Dick Grayson one shots

Mistakes

Whumptober day 24: radiation poisoning

The Gotham air was cool and surprisingly pleasant as it had been raining earlier that day, clearing out the usual fog of pollution.

Dick sat on the manor's roof, eyes closed and head tilted back as he enjoyed the slight breeze. He was still in his Nightwing suit, the tight fabric sticking to his sweat dotted skin.

A sad sigh left his lips, his brow furrowing. He'd hoped to talk to Tim... but now that he was actually there he couldn't bring himself to go inside. He knew the younger would have nothing nice to say to him in return.

He could see the light on in his little brother's room, Tim's shadow passing periodically in front of it. He wondered what the little insomniac was working on this late... or rather, this early.

The room's light flicked off, only a smaller lamp left to light the room.

It was now or never.

Dick swung down, perching on the windowsill. He took a steadying breath and tapped on the windowpane.

Movement inside the room preceded his brother's face peering out at him. The window slid open, Tim's eyes narrowing when he saw the acrobat.

"What are you doing here?" Tim demanded, his voice less than friendly as he glared at his brother.

"I... I wanted to talk about what happened when... when Bruce was gone," Dick replied softly, figuring his younger brother deserved to be at least a bit angry at him.

"I think you already know how I feel about that," Tip snapped.

Dick sighed. "I know... I... I guess I just wanted to apologize for... for not believing you," he said.

Tim's eyes narrowed. "Don't you think it's a bit too late for that?" He asked. "Nobody believed me... because of you. I had to find Bruce all by myself," he spat. "Don't you think we would've found him earlier if you'd actually helped me?! And not just that, no. You didn't stop after labeling me as delusional and grief addled. You stripped me of my title as Robin and gave it away to the next black haired little boy... do you even know what that felt like?"

A pang went through Dick's chest, the memory of his own time as Robin being cut short by Bruce flashing through his mind. "Of course I know how that feels," he said softly, his gaze drifting to his feet. "I didn't mean..." he breathed. "I didn't mean for you to feel that way."

Tim glared at him.

"Everything was so much... I-I tried," Dick said, his voice impossibly broken.

"I know, and that was your mistake." Tim turned and walked away.

Dick sat on the window sill for a moment longer, his heart feeling like it was being crushed within his chest. He stood and climbed back onto the roof, swiping at his tears as he made his way back to his bike.

He'd tried.

—

Dick crouched next to a decorative gargoyle as he watched Tim peering inside the nearest building, a glass and metal behemoth standing far enough away from any other building that Dick wouldn't be noticed by the younger.

He'd watched as Tim had scaled the side of the building, no doubt after either breaking or misplacing his last remaining grappling gun.

Dick made a mental note to grab a backup grapple when he got home that night. He currently had one clipped to his belt, though he doubted it would hold much more than his weight if the slight catch it had developed in the past few days was anything to go by.