Dick Grayson one shots

Hang on

Bruce gasped as reality shifted around him. He was looking at a much older version of Dick Grayson, 20 years old maybe. He was a different hero now so it seemed, the once brightly colored costume exchanged for one of sleek black Kevlar, a blue bird symbol stretching across his chest.

He tried to convince himself he was mistaken, that he wasn't seeing the boy he'd taken in bleeding out in front of him... but he couldn't deny that he recognized those pain filled eyes.

Dick's hand was clasped in his own, the younger's grip slackening with each rattling breath.

"Don't... don't leave me," Bruce said, his voice full of anxiety.

"M-maybe... it's t-time," Dick mumbled, blood trailing down his chin.

Bruce's shoulders shook as he sobbed, pleading with Dick to hang on, promising him it would all be ok.

The world shifted once again, and Bruce fell to his knees gasping.

A woman with one glowing hand was sneering down at him. "Don't like your future do you?" She taunted. "Perhaps it'll change if you're not in it." She drew a knife from her belt and lunged at him.

Still disoriented from his vision, Bruce could only stare as the knife arced through the air.

A streak of red, yellow, and green caught his attention... Robin, his Robin swung through the room, his feet landing solidly on the woman's chest and sending her flying into the wall, her knife clattering to the ground.

"Did you see that B?!!" Dick shouted, his excited smile exposing one missing baby tooth. "And I lost my wiggly tooth fighting those other guys!" He went on, pulling the little tooth out of his utility belt to show to his mentor.

Bruce smiled and pulled Dick into a hug. "Good job bud," he said, holding on to his ward a little longer than was probably necessary, his vision still lingering in his mind.

Dick melted into the embrace, closing his eyes and resting his head on Bruce's shoulder.

"Let's call it a night," Bruce said quietly, scooping the little acrobat up in his arms.

Dick continued to rest his head on Bruce's shoulder, his breathing deep and even.

Bruce smiled, trying to keep his steps as smooth as possible as he made his way back to the Batmobile, pressing a small button on his belt to alert the police of the woman still unconscious in the building.

They were almost back to the car when Dick started squirming in Bruce's grasp, jumping out of his arms and doing a flip on his way to the ground. "Can I drive?" he asked, staring up at Bruce with pleading eyes.

Bruce's initial reaction was to say no, but with what he'd seen earlier that night... if anything it had made him realize that time with his ward was limited. "You can steer, I'll do the peddles," he said after a moment.

Dick was ecstatic, his smile stretching from ear to ear as he raced to the Batmobile.

—
Le long time skip
—

Bruce hadn't been able to calm his breathing even after Alfred had assured him Dick would make a complete recovery. All he could think of was the nightmarish scene he'd been shown years prior. He remembered it so vividly... the rattle of Dick's breath, blood pooling between his slightly parted lips, eyelids falling to cover pain filled blue eyes, the mask that usually covered them lying discarded.

There was only one way to keep his son safe. And that was to end his stint as a vigilante.

Bruce wandered into the med bay and gazed down at his son. Could he really go through with this? He pondered it for a long moment. What would he even say?