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Anon: Could you do Timinette where one of them wakes up from a nightmare but the other isnt there to comfort them
Note: mentions of various deaths, and not very Dick Grayson-friendly, though that part's brief.
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Darkness.
It closes in on him.
Inch by inch, the shadows creep closer, with their nasty grins and hissing laughs, claws swiping at his feet.
Worthless, they snarl. Useless. Can never do anything right.
He backs away, shaking, until he hits another wall.
They come closer, cackling at him as the whispers continue.
Couldn't save your parents. Couldn't save Stephanie. Couldn't save Kon. Couldn't save Bart. Couldn't save Bruce. So many failures. No wonder even your parents didn't want you.
A shadowed hand swipes at him, and he doesn't leap back fast enough. It draws blood on his leg, and he bites back a cry of pain.
They left you alone for months at a time. The darkness hisses, an evil smirk growing wider, even though it has no face. Poor little Timmy, all alone in a big, empty house, with no friends and absent parents and no one who loved him.
But there is someone who loves him, isn't there?
That's not true! He cries. Bruce took me in after Jack died! He adopted me! I have brothers-
He cuts off, realizing that he doesn't, not anymore. Dick ripped Robin, the only thing he had left, away from him, and gave it to Damian, who tried to kill him, multiple times. Jason also tried many times to end his life.
And his team? Kon and Bart are gone. Cassie, like the others, thinks he's crazy.
The shadows laugh as he realizes that he's alone. But he isn't, isn't he? There's someone else-
He bows his head as they finally reach him, accepting whatever comes next, and then he wakes up.
In a dark hotel room in France.
It's midnight. The room is shrouded in shadows.
He reaches to the side, trying to find her, to bask in her comforting presence until he can go back to sleep.
His hands hit cold blankets instead.
But he can still hear her whispers in his head.
Another nightmare, mon chou? She says softly, and he thinks he can feel her fingers gently running through his hair. Would you like me to stay, or do you want something to drink to calm you down?
"Stay, please." He whispers hoarsely, and waits for the warm embrace of her arms around him.
But it never comes, because she's not there.
Marinette Dupain-Cheng is dead, gone, her ashes scattered to the wind.
