Dick Grayson one shots

Don't ask me to stay

Whumptober day 12: starvation

An explosion shook Gotham, a section of the city going up in flames, buildings crumbling. Screams echoed through the night, and members of the Bat family rushed to get to the site of the disaster.

"Nightwing," Bruce nearly shouted, pressing a finger to his earpiece, seeking the smoke pluming up from the section of the city his eldest had been patrolling.

There was silence for a long moment... a bit too long not to be worrying.

Pained coughing sounded in Bruce's ear as his eldest tried to respond.

"Br-ce," Dick mumbled.

"Don't worry, we're on our way," Bruce tried to reassure. The shaky breath he received in return didn't exactly help soothe his concern.

He raced across the city, the Batmobile straining at its max speed.

Tires squealed as Bruce slammed on the breaks, yanking the wheel to the right as he approached the sudden end of the road.

He leaped from the car, desperately surveying the damage. Some naive hope deep within him checked each stack of rubble for any sign of his son.

Another boom shook the city, followed closely by a third, buildings crumbling as their foundations were destroyed. How many people were trapped beneath rubble at this very moment?

"Wing?" Bruce called, pressing his finger to his communication device.

The crackling sound of silence was all he got in return for a long moment.

"I'm here," Dick finally replied, his voice strained.

"The city... it's... the whole south side is rubble," Tim's voice called over the link.

"I'm going to try and contact the League," Bruce said, returning to the Batmobile to make the call. At least in the darkness of the car nobody would be able to see his hands trembling.

He pleaded for someone to answer l, exhaling a breath of relief when Clark's face appeared on the screen in the Batmobile.

"I'm assuming you're calling about Gotham," he said, pausing to wait for Bruce's nod of agreement. "How can I help?" He asked.

"I need a Green Lantern," Bruce began. "Someone who can move the rubble without causing a collapse."

"Bruce, all the Lanterns are off world right now. I can send out a message to them, but it'll take at least a week for them to get back," Clark replied.

"You... you don't understand," Bruce said, his voice pleading. "My son's under there. He's buried in that rubble."

Clark tensed slightly, his eyes showing his pity. "I'll get whoever I can to come help," he replied, ending the call.

Bruce closed his eyes, leaning his head back to rest on the seat. He took a few shaky breaths, wishing he could simply hide away in the Batmobile forever.

"B," Jason's voice called over his comms. "We could really use your help out here."

Bruce took a steadying breath, accessing the tracking software for his eldest's tracking device.

'No signal,' flashed on the screen.

"B?"

"I'll be there in a minute," Bruce replied, rebooting the tracking system.

No signal.

"No," Bruce mumbled. This wasn't happening. His son was lost, buried in rubble... dying. And the only thing he could do was blindly search.

—

It had been approximately 7 days and 16 hours since parts of the city had been blown to pieces. Approximately 2,000 people had been rescued, none of which had been Dick.

Bruce refused to rest, working until he physically collapsed.

Dick had stopped replying days ago.

"B," Jason's voice spoke. "We found him."

Bruce's heart skipped. "Where?"

"I'm not sure," Jason said. "It'll be easier if you meet us at the evacuation site. Flash is running him there now."

Bruce sped to the evacuation site, hoping for some sort of news, at least confirmation that Dick was still alive and receiving care.

No such call came, however, and he was left to agonize over the possibilities. He remembered the last thing Dick had said before going radio silent.

"Maybe it's time to say goodbye," Dick's quavering voice had crackled over their comms unit. "I'm so tired..."

Bruce shook those thoughts from his head as he arrived at the center the refugees were being temporarily housed in.

The streets were lined with tents, people milling around, many of whom had an empty look in their eyes, looking as if their whole world had just crumbled around them... and perhaps it had.

The crowds parted as Bruce drove through, eventually deciding to abandon the Batmobile in favor of going on foot.

The medical tent soon came into view, and Bruce couldn't restrain himself from sprinting the rest of the way, pulling back the flap and walking inside without any hesitation. His eyes scanned the room, landing on Clark's bright red cape.

He hurried over, nearly pushing the other hero away in an effort to get to his son's bedside.

Dick was pale, his eyes and cheeks sunken from lack of food. His uniform hung loosely on his malnourished frame, a feeding tube taped down as it exited his nose.

Bruce grabbed his son's boney hand. He couldn't imagine how torturous the past week had been for him, stuck under the remnants of a building without access to food or water... not knowing if he was going to live or die...

As if in response to Bruce grabbing his hand, Dick stirred, his eyes flickering open. His gaze drifted lethargically over to Bruce, his lips curling in the slightest of smiles.

Dick lifted a hand, his fingers brushing over the feeding tube. "Not hungry anymore," he breathed, his relief clear in his voice.

Bruce squeezed his son's hand.

"Wasn't sure if... if you'd find me in time," Dick mumbled, looking from Bruce to Clark.

Clark gave him a sad smile. "We weren't going to stop looking until we found you," he said, resting one hand on Dick's knee. "When I finally found your heartbeat it was easy enough to dig you out."

Dick nodded, letting his eyes drift closed. "Sleeping with a domino on is weird," he mumbled.

Bruce snorted a laugh.

Clark chuckled. "They'll discharge you as soon as you can eat on your own. You'll undoubtedly be sore once the pain meds they gave you wear off. You were pinned pretty thoroughly under that rubble.

Dick hummed.

"I'll stay with him," Bruce said, mainly to Clark. He couldn't help but notice, however, the smile that tugged at his son's lips when he processed what his mentor had said.

Clark nodded. "There's still plenty to rescue," he replied.

"I think I'm going to need some of Alfred's spaghetti after this," Dick mumbled softly.

"You don't even like his spaghetti," Bruce pointed out.

"Yeah, but it was the only thing I could think about while I was under there," Dick replied.

Bruce laughed. "After this, you can have all the spaghetti you want."