Catch Me If I Fall || R.Grayson ||

Breathe:

Dick jolted awake in a cold sweat. He gingerly placed both hands on his chest and stomach to monitor his heavy breathing until it softened; something that Alfred had shown him to help with a panic attack. Not that those happened regularly, but the technique helped calm down after a nightmare. It was late; 2:30am. Bruce was probably still out on patrol.

He felt around his sheets for his elephant, and slid out of bed, drawing it in close to his chest. It was softer than his old elephant, and though he loved this one very dearly, there was just something about the old one that couldn't be replaced.

The little boy was used to the silence the manor held by now, and he learned very quickly how to navigate the maze like corridors on soundless feet to go unnoticed, and undisturbed if there were any unannounced house guests that often haunted his nightmares. The way to the batcave was one of the most followed paths, though he could never find the courage to go down unless it was with Bruce to train. Most nights would be spent by the clock, waiting for Bruce to come up; often times Dick would fall asleep, and the millionaire would carry his ward up to bed, and neither of them would speak of it in the morning. But this time, Dick went down. There was something gnawing at the back of his conscious. He ran his hands along the paneling of the clock, still unaware of what triggered the opening. The entrance revealed itself, and he wrapped his arms tighter around his elephant as he started his journey down all those stairs.

Bruce was sitting at the batcomputer, cowl down, and eyes holding more exhaustion than focus as he scanned over the files that appeared onscreen. He had been looking tired all week, and Dick suspected that he wasn't sleeping at all. The boy inched toward the computer, shivering violently against the chill of the cold ground beneath his bare feet.

"Go back to bed, Richard,"

Bruce didn't even look away from the computer.

Dick deflated. He could never get past Bruce.

"I'm lonely," he lied, stopping beside his chair.

"Because you should be sleeping," Bruce sighed. "Did you have another nightmare?"

"What do you think?" Dick asked innocently.

"Are you okay?"

"No,"

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Yes."

There was a tense pause, both knowing full well that neither of them were going to actually talk about anything. Dick leaned against the arm of the big chair, resting his head against Bruce's elbow. In turn, the Dark Knight draped his arm around the boy's shoulders. They stayed like that for a long while, until Dick shivered and gave a heavy yawn; Bruce swivelled his chair, and scooped him up onto his lap, wrapping them both in his heavy weighted cape. Dick laughed softly, snuggling into the Dark Knight's chest, grateful for the embrace.

This was better than talking about nightmares, anyway.

Richard's eyes were beginning to feel heavy again, when a picture popped up at the corner of the screen, underlined with a set of code that he couldn't decipher. He recognized that face all too well.

Zucco, he was called. Dick faintly remembered Pop Haley confronting him on the night it all happened. He remembered the way Zucco had flicked his forehead when he bumped into him, and those cold eyes.

Bruce noticed the way his ward tensed against him.

"What's wrong?"

"Zucco," Dick said, pointing to the image. "That's Zucco, right?"

"You recognize him?"

"He was there before the performance," Dick said. He took to fidgeting with the inside of the cape. "I accidentally ran into him when I was looking for my dad. Pop Haley was mad to see him. Is he a bad guy?"