It was just one stupid spider that had wandered its way into his apartment. Dick stared at the spider as it crawled up the wall and onto his ceiling. Normally he wouldn’t mind spiders as much as he did at this moment, but the image of the spider kept flickering.
One moment it was a small and practically harmless jumping spider, and the next it was… Catalina. Her eyes weren’t visible because of the mask that she was wearing, but Dick could feel her staring regardless. He felt exposed even under the two blankets that he’d gathered for warmth.
He hated it. How the feeling of being watched never actually went away.
The image flickered again, and it was back to the jumping spider. Dick wanted to get up to capture it or do something at least, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.
He was back on the rooftop, rain falling on his face and guilt overcoming him in waves, but he was also on his couch staring at a spider on the ceiling, frozen and waiting for it to strike. He kind of felt like he was floating. He’s in his apartment, laying on his couch, but he’s also not anywhere at all.
The spider moves, and suddenly, Dick is snapped back into his body. The fear and panic hit him like a truck as he watches the spider’s every move, afraid that looking away will allow it the time to strike.
The spider is moving back to the wall, and Dick needs to move quickly. He can’t have a spider in his apartment. Just the thought of it alone brings him intense anxiety.
Dick grabs the nearest empty cup and a sheet of paper. He slams the cup against the wall over the spider and slips the paper underneath. Gripping the cup and paper tighter than is probably necessary, he brings the spider through the apartment door and down the stairs. He lets the spider go and stares as it crawls across the sidewalk.
Something about watching the spider crawl is almost hypnotizing, and Dick continues to stare until the spider is completely out of sight.
He hadn’t even noticed the rain. It was only sprinkling, but Dick still finds himself shivering.
He turns around and heads back up the stairs to his apartment. He shuts the door and takes a deep breath. The spider is gone, but his heart is still pounding. The feeling of being watched hasn’t gone away.
Dick shakes it off, puts the cup in the sink, and promptly passes out on the couch.
It’s only when he wakes again that he notices he is still clutching the paper he used to catch the spider. It’s one of Damian’s drawings from the last time they hung out together; it’s a sketch of him and Damian walking Titus together.
It’s a beautiful drawing and the memory is a happy one, but Dick still feels like crying. He hasn’t seen his siblings in what feels like forever, and he desperately wants to see them again. But Bruce’s words echo loudly in his brain.
“Spyral is hunting Earth’s heroes. They want our identities, who we love, who we hate, what makes us tick. And they don’t care what it takes to get that information.” Bruce’s face scrunches up in the way it always does when he’s at a loss for what to do. “I’m worried that they’ll come for you now that your identity has been compromised.”
Looking at Bruce’s face, Dick notices that, for perhaps the very first time, he doesn’t have a plan. And, God, Dick wants nothing more than to just be able to live his life again. Even if he can’t be Nightwing anymore, he at least wants his siblings and his friends to know that he’s actually very much still alive so he can spend time with them.
Noticing Dick’s inevitable spiral, Bruce continues, “Spyral is a danger to all of us with its current goals, but maybe with some persuasion they would be willing to change their goals.”
Dick looks back at Bruce and mentally facepalms. Of course he has a plan; he is Batman for a reason. Upon further inspection though, he notices the way Bruce hesitates. He's unsure of this plan. “I’m listening.”
“This mission will require you to go undercover at Spyral. You will keep in contact with me through a secure line as you work to dismantle the current administration and their goals.” Bruce takes a deep breath, “If we follow through with this, no one can know that you are still alive but me. It’s safer that way.”
Dick can see now why he hesitated. This would mean him staying dead.
As much as he would love to see everyone again and let them know he was alive, something about staying dead seemed freeing. No more galas, no more fake smiles. Maybe this was a chance to find out who Dick Grayson really was.
Besides, it would mean that he can keep his family safe.
And if that isn’t a worthy goal, then what is?
Looking at the drawing again, he’s now more sure of his decision than ever. His siblings deserve to be safe and happy. Well, as safe and happy as one can be as a vigilante anyway.
The next time Dick wakes up, he’s feeling really disoriented. His stomach is grumbling at him, letting him know that he should probably eat something. He sits up to go and make something, but the throbbing headache he has stops him in his tracks.
He sits there for a moment, gathering the will to stand up. Everything from the past few weeks must have caught up with him now that he finally got some sleep.
Dick gets up, pushing through the pain that blossoms in his head when he does so, and walks to the kitchen to go make some cereal. Alfred might not approve, but it's all he has the energy to make right now.
He eats the cereal quickly, and downs a glass of water after putting the bowl in the sink. His head feels a little better now, but it still hurts. Dick reaches into the medicine cabinet and grabs the ibuprofen, shaking out two of the tablets. He refills the glass from earlier and tries to swallow the first one.
His throat didn’t seem to get the memo though because next thing he knows, he’s throwing up in the sink.
He feels like he’s being choked and- Oh. That’s probably why he couldn’t swallow the ibuprofen. Luthor might have just ruined his ability to swallow things. How fun.
Dick washes the vomit down the drain with the faucet, and he goes ahead and washes the few dishes that were in the sink. He’ll be gone for a while anyway, so he might as well clean up his apartment.
He packs up the few belongings that he has laying around, which mostly consists of drawings from Damian and various photos of his friends and family. Some of the photos are from Tim.
Photography had been something that Tim really enjoyed doing before he became Robin. Though Dick is the only one that he really shared any of his photos with. Bruce had become very closed off after Jason died, but Dick vowed that he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
When Tim first showed him the photos, he felt like crying.
The very first photo he had seen was one of both Bruce and Jason. They were standing on a rooftop, capes flowing in the wind behind them. Jason was smiling, standing with both hands on his hips. There was an air of confidence around him, and he looked so happy, like he was right where he wanted to be.
Bruce looked happy too. It was harder to tell because he was always so reserved, but Dick could tell from his body language that he was proud of Jason.
It was too much, and Jason’s death was too soon. A tear had slipped down his cheek that night, but he had quickly wiped it away before Tim could see.
Maybe he should get a camera for Tim the next time he sees him. The kid was always so good at capturing the little moments between people.
Looking at the photo now alongside Damian’s drawing, he felt like Tim and Damian both understood how to really capture things around them. They don’t really fight a lot anymore, but Dick realizes now that perhaps they are more alike than they realize.
He decides to take the drawing and photo with him as he heads to the Batcave to prepare for a mission, not as Nightwing, but as Dick Grayson.
“Mr. Malone, this is Birdwatcher. Please respond.”
Please, please Bruce. Just respond damn it.
“Mr. Malone. Repeat. This is Birdwatcher. Please respond.”
Dick let out a frustrated sigh.
“Mr- As previously reported, initial mission completed. Need confirmation on how to proceed.”
“Please just confirm. Please just answer.”
Dick waited a moment before continuing.
“Bruce- Mr. Malone. This is… please. Please. Can I come home?”
Dick was aware that he was beginning to sound desperate, but he just couldn’t take it anymore. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see his family again.
Dick shut off the comm and decided to try and get some sleep.
Spyral wasn’t all bad. If anything, it gave him something to do. He just wished that he didn’t feel so alone all the time. At least having contact with Bruce gave him some relief, but now that was gone too. It’s like his only safety net was ripped out from underneath him and now all he had was the cold, hard ground to support him if he fell.
With that last thought, he’s thrown into a dream that he’s had more times than he can count.
He’s preparing to go on stage with his parents. A show they’ve done many times before and one that he knows inside and out. His mother pulls him and his father into a hug and plants a kiss on the top of his head. It’s warm and comforting and Dick never wants to leave.
It ends anyway, and his parents pull away.
The three of them walk to the stage, unaware that the show they are putting on today is a tragedy.
Everything is going fine until it’s Dick’s turn to jump. He hesitates when he notices the loose bolts on the trapeze. His parents fall to the ground like the tears that spill from his eyes. He’s alone. (He’s not, there’s a crowd of people around him all in shock of the unexpected event, but Dick’s mind can’t process that right now.)
All he sees are two crumpled bodies on the ground below him, and all he can feel is the crushing weight of sadness and loss. To him, there is nothing else.
The scene changes and he is sitting at Jason’s grave. Bruce hadn’t even bothered to tell him about the funeral. Sure they hadn’t been on great terms, but shouldn’t a death in the family warrant communication?
Dick places the letter he wrote underneath some rocks and a bouquet of flowers. Jason might not ever get to read the letter, but Dick wants to give him something more personal than just flowers. He felt the loneliness again, but this time it was mixed with an overwhelming amount of guilt.
Bonus (this is Dick's letter to Jason):
I know you will never get to read this, but I wanted to write it anyway.
I want to start this off by saying that I’m sorry. No words will ever be enough to express how sorry I am for not getting to know you better. You’re so brave and so selfless that sometimes I wonder just how you do it.
There is no one else I would rather take on the mantle of Robin.
The truth is that I let my emotions blind me. When Bruce first took you in and made you Robin, I felt replaced. I let the anger and pain that I felt keep me from actually getting to know you, and that was the biggest mistake that I ever made.
I do remember, though, that from the few times that we did hang out, you reminded me a lot of myself. Those are some of my happiest memories, and now I really wish that I had more.
I think that’s maybe why I’m writing this, as a desperate attempt to turn back time. But I know that’s not how it works. Life is like a river, always moving as you try desperately to grab on to something to make it stop.
But it won’t stop, and I can’t stay stuck grasping at rocks forever. I need to move forward.
Though, that doesn’t mean it won’t hurt. But that’s kind of the beauty in life. The bad things drag us down so that the good things can bring us back up.
But even though I must move forward, I will never forget you. So if you take anything away from this letter at all, let it be that you are loved. I know Bruce has a funny way of showing it, but he misses you too. And I will forever regret not taking the time to get to know you.
