Officer Grayson One-shots

Pushed away part three

When the chief walked in, he knew it was bad. Dick had tears in his eyes and running down his cheeks. He was curled up shaking, his face as pale as a ghost. The blankets were everywhere, kicked away. His tail was so tightly wound around his arm that it was bleeding.

He set down his stuff and sat down next to Dick. He seemed to know the chief was there, but he didn't respond. The chief pulled Dick onto his lap and started hugging him. "It's ok, Dick. I'm here, and I'm sorry. I should've taken you with me, or stayed here. I'm so sorry." Dick started shaking more, and buried his head in the chief's shoulder.

"Am I really that bad?" "As bad as what?" "Are Gypsies bad? I've been one all my life, but I've never stopped to consider how people use it. Now that I have, the only time someone's used it is as an insult. So am I really that bad?"

"No! God no, Dick. You're not bad. Hell, you're better than some of us. Never think you're bad, because you're not. Ok?" He lies to try and comfort you. "And if that little voice is saying anything, you tell it to bug off, cause it doesn't matter. Just one more day, Dick. One more day, and it's gone. It's going to go away, but I need you to stay strong. If not for you, then for me. For us. Amanda, Selina, Brutus, James, Tom, all of us. We need you, Dickie. We really do."

Dick laid against the chief's chest, pondering what he meant. Even the little voice was silent. "Just a little bit longer. Hang on for just a little bit longer." That was all it was: a little bit longer. A little bit longer, and that voice would go away. He just needed to hold out for a little bit longer.

Dick didn't manage to get a lot of work done that day. His head was killing him, from the voice screaming at him all night. Looking at the screen made his eyes hurt as well. He was exhausted, as he didn't sleep last night. His arm hurt from where his tail had injured it, both yesterday and last night. Last night, however, he actually cut into the skin.

He didn't eat much either. His appetite has shrunk, and that worried the chief. Grayson hadn't eaten since he's transformed, no matter how much they tried. He pushed it away. "If I eat, I'm going to throw up." He'd always tell the person trying to get him to eat. The most he could do was a granola bar, and that felt like a rock in his stomach.

He realized he was probably destroying himself with this behavior, but he couldn't stop. The voice came when he slept. He had no appetite. It was pain everytime he tried to work. He just couldn't do it. But he could hold out. He could do that while the voice tried to get him to stop. While it tried to get him to kill himself. I'm already in the process of that now, he thought grimly to himself.

He's gotten shot about five in the evening. It was currently noon, so about five hours. That's when the voice really started trying

No good gypsy. That's what they all said. That's the truth: you're no good. You have to sit in here, hiding yourself from the world while others are actually working. You're pathetic. "Shut up." Why? So you can convince yourself everything is alright? That you're going to be normal if you can just hold out? That you're going to be able to jump right back in to society? Cause that ain't gonna happen.

"I said shut up!" Dick started raising his voice again. Oh, got a temper, now, do we?  Maybe it's because you know I'm right. Maybe you know you won't be able to go back. You'll be an outcast wherever you go. The team, the league, even the cops. You don't belong, Dick Grayson, and you never will.

Dick shook his head, trying to ignore the little annoying voice. But you don't want to accept that, do you? You want to believe you live in a perfect little world where you fit in. Where you actually have friends. I'll break it to you: you don't. No one cares for you. No one has, and no one ever will.

Bruce only picked you up from that circus floor because he felt pity. Alfred has always had to follow Bruce's orders, so he's faked caring for you. Your brothers don't care at all. Wally only started acting like he loved you because he knew you would be worthless without it. They all use you, and that's all you'll ever be: a tool. Something for people to use.

"But some people care for their tools. Take care of it, use it wisely. Some even fall in love with their tools. What you call me means nothing." But it does. Your whole life, all you've ever wanted was to be loved, and to have people's approval. You've lost their love, all you have is their approval. How many times have they tried to intervene? How many times have they tried to stop you? Do you really think they care?

"Just go away already." "Only a few more hours, Dick. Just a little while longer." The chief reminded Dick. A few more hours of me. I wonder what all I can break? Maybe your self worth? Maybe even your will to live? A few hours can be an eternity to the right person. "You can't do anything to me." No? I've done something already. Just have to prod that wound, get it to open further. That's all I have to do, and you're done. "You can't do anything to me anymore. The wounds have already closed." Dick growled.

And so the voice tried. It tried to break Dick, it tried to tear him into pieces. But Dick didn't care anymore. He could hear the voice panicking, knowing it was out of time. Knowing that soon, it was going to be gone. It wouldn't matter anymore.

About four o'clock, a pain started growing in Dick's stomach. He doubled over, knowing it was about to get worse. The chief knelt down once again and waited for the transformation to complete. Slowly, the pain spread to Dick's ears and lower back. He leaned against the chief, just wanting the comfort.

Suddenly, the dull pain turned into fire and knives. It ate away at him, taunting him, trying to make him scream. It didn't work. He never screamed. He never let the taunting get to him. He was stronger than they were.

When the pain ended, he sat up slowly. He didn't feel his tail anymore. When he reached for his ears, he found normal, round ears. He was normal once again. The chief nearly choked him in a hug. "I knew you could do it."

Dick left for his apartment that evening. It felt good to be able to go out on the streets again. He recognized some people from the riot, but they didn't do anything. It seemed his transformation had just scared them. Once changed, he left for the streets. The city needed him. No matter what that voice had said, Blüdhaven needed him.