Nightwing Oneshots

Robin XXVI

⚠️Mentions of PTSD | Mentions of Self Harm | Depression | Anxiety | Mention of Death | Mental Health Struggles | Implication of Suicide⚠️

3rd person POV

"You just need to be cautious," Bruce said, interlocking his fingers as he leaned forwards. "Dick is still really sensitive about your death. Once he finds out you're alive, he's going to be all over the place."

Wally nodded, pursing his lips together. "I understand."

"Just take it slow," he said, the concern becoming evident on his face as he stood up. "It's going to take time for him to get better, so be patient with him. Please."

Wally stood up too and shook his hand. "I will."

***

Wally's POV

I gently knocked on the door, stepping back a little bit and breathing deeply to calm my nerves. It had been a good 3 years since I had last seen Dick. From what Bruce had briefed me on, he still wasn't taking it very well and his PTSD attacks kept getting more frequent. I was excited to see him, but at the same time, I didn't want to cause anything bad to happen to him.

I also had a lot of explain.

The door handle twisted and suddenly, standing in front of me was Dick. He still looked the same as I remembered; long black hair, blue eyes, fair skin. He was dressed in a well-fitting sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of sweat pants, but tattooed around his arm were two bands. That was new.

I forced myself to meet his gaze. His face remained emotionless, but his eyes looked shattered. He reminded me of when we were younger, when we thought that Roy was dead.

"Wally?" he whispered, the pain becoming more evident in his eyes and his voice.

It was so quiet I almost didn't hear him. I smiled gently and patted myself down jokingly. "Yup, pretty sure that's my name," I said, looking back up at him.

He just stared at me some more, looking overwhelmed with shock and sadness.

"I-I'm not having an attack, right?" he eventually forced out, his voice trembling as his hand tightened around the doorknob.

My heart shattered to hear him so devastated. I quickly shook my head and smiled to reassure him as I gently touched his hand.

"No, no, you're not," I said. "I'm here. I'm sorry I took so long to find my way back."

He took a deep, audible breath and stepped back, allowing me to come in. I glanced around his apartment as he closed the door behind us. It was clean, which I almost expected, given it was Dick. He was always some sort of a neat freak.

"I need a minute," he said, brushing past me to his living room and beginning to pace back and forth in front of the couch.

I noticed that his sleeves were pulled back down, but I didn't ponder on it too long as I took off my shoes and sat down on the couch to watch him pace back and forth.

This isn't the welcome back I expected at all, I thought, watching him twist the anxiety ring on his thumb as he paced.

I thought he would either be extremely happy or extremely sad, but he just seemed like he didn't care. Or maybe he did, and he was just masking his emotions again. 

We sat in silence for a few moments before I decided to break it.

"So, uh, I was thinking maybe we could talk-?"