Under Batman's guidance, Y/n was reborn as Falcon, alongside Dick's Robin. They thrived as Gotham's protectors until a pivotal moment shook their world: Dick was seriously injured by a gunshot. Batman, fearing for their safety, proposed to sideline...
The sharp report of a gunshot shattered the silence, followed swiftly by the sensation of being pushed aside. Blood sprayed across the grimy floor of the warehouse. Y/n's memory flitted back to the heated argument with Bruce, the words still echoing in his mind. Then, his thoughts spiraled further into the past, to a darker time—his hands shaking as he cut the rope, the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground, a sight that had once made his stomach churn.
Abruptly, the vehicle lurched over a bump in the road, wrenching Y/n from the clutches of his nightmare. Above them, the stars scattered across the sky like diamond dust. Y/n found himself riding shotgun in Dick's car, the neon lights of the highway streaking by as they headed towards Jump City.
"You okay?" Dick's voice cut through the silence, tinged with concern as he glanced over at Y/n.
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"Hmm, yeah, I'm fine." Y/n responded, though his voice lacked conviction. Dick could always tell when something was off; Y/n's telltale lip biting gave him away, a clear sign of his inner turmoil.
"You know I'm here right. If you ever need to talk." Dick said.
"Appreciate it. Just a nightmare. Good thing your terrible driving woke me up," Y/n attempted a chuckle, reclining his seat slightly and clasping his hands behind his head. The laughter didn't reach his eyes. He hated the nightmares that haunted him, the guilt gnawing relentlessly at his conscience. He glanced at Dick, burdened by a secret he feared would destroy them if ever revealed.
To distract himself, Y/n turned his gaze outside, counting the cars that zoomed past. His focus shifted from the vehicles to the trees whipping by, and then to the stars above, a welcome reprieve from his troubled thoughts.
Eventually, they reached their destination. Jump City loomed larger than Y/n had imagined, sprawling and vibrant, a stark contrast to Gotham's oppressive shadows. They pulled into a motel parking lot, a humble substitute for what they had left behind. "Definitely not the mansion," Dick remarked as they got out of the car.
"I'll miss Alfred's cooking the most," Y/n said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. He walked to the trunk and popped it open, revealing several duffle bags inside, including their suits and gear. He slung two bags over each shoulder and grabbed another pair by the handles. Meanwhile, Dick headed into the motel office to check them in, leaving Y/n to manage their gear alone.
He slammed the trunk shut and walked over to Dick, who was exchanging a few bills with the motel clerk. "You kids look a bit young to be on your own at a motel. Traveling?" the clerk inquired with a raised eyebrow.
"You could say that," Dick responded casually.
"Have a nice night," the clerk said, sliding the room key across the counter. Dick grabbed it, and Y/n followed him upstairs to their room. The door creaked open to reveal a disappointing welcome: a large mildew stain adorned the wall.
"Definitely a big step down from the mansion," Y/n muttered, dropping the duffel bags with a thud. He scanned the dreary room and sighed, "So, what's the plan now?"
