Title: Still Here
Rating: T
Summary: Dick lives, because it's something he has to do.
A/N: There were requests for a follow up to Helpless, so this was made. Can be read as a standalone, since it sort of acts as both a prequel and sequel.
Notes: Post-reboot, New 52. Sequel.
Don't own Batman.

"You've been in a coma, you know. For three weeks. Drake isn't sure if you're going to make it."

It would be nice if mission plans were followed. Considering it's a plan Batman came up with, and considering he's the one who raised them, Dick is utterly baffled by how poorly they seem to work out when they really need it. Tim is a stickler for plans, and while Dick's better at thinking on his feet, he does appreciate the finer arts of having a clue of what to do, and what to really avoid.

But of course, nothing wanted to work out right and now both Batman and Robin are offline and Dick is having trouble contacting Tim, whose comm-link is making static-y noises and refusing to give up more than a few sounds of Tim's voice, which were mainly broken words and the sounds of something being hit. Dick's not as tech savvy as Red Robin, and since all other possible technological allies are unreachable, Nightwing has to find a way to get from point wherever he is, to point wherever Tim is, really fast.

Unfortunately, that's roughly around the time Dick runs into a crazed lunatic hyped up on drugs.

"Father has faith. So does Pennyworth. But they are worried, still. Father's temper has taken a subtle turn for the worse, you only have to look at the trail of broken bones on the streets to tell, and Pennyworth has cleaned every single item possible in this cave. Twice."

Venom was one thing. Titan was another.

Titan was like Venom jacked up on steroids, taken up a hundred fold. Venom made people power crazy and violent, with increased muscle mass. Titan just made them crazy, easily to manipulate if all you needed was someone to smash things, and enlarged their bodies to grotesque proportions.

Dick just had to run into the latter.

Damn Joker. Damn him and his stupid plan to contaminate Gotham's hospitals with Titan and Venom and whatever else he could get his hands on; Tim should have been doing tests on that. Tim, who was fully suited and a couple miles south of the old Wonder Tower. Tim, who Dick still wanted to find so this sudden search fest for the newest Dynamic Duo could be slightly more productive.

Tim, whose communicator just suddenly died.

Today just was not going his way.

"You're lucky you were only hit with Venom, even if the amount you were given was nearly lethal. If it had been Titan, you'd have been dead instantly. There would have been nothing we could have done."

When his head meets the ground, Dick doesn't see stars. What he does see, is the ground dotted with blood that certainly isn't from the guy that just threw the twenty-something-year-old into the concrete, and another fist aimed at his midsection.

Dick rolls out of the way, and watches as the ground cracks and splinters beneath the force of the missed punch. He decides he does not want the same thing to happen to his head, (or any of him, really,) so Nightwing throws down his last smoke bomb and waits until the creature draws back in surprise to stagger out of the haze and retreat to the safety of a nearby rooftop. It's not the best plan possible, leaving that crazed being perfectly conscious and able to harm whoever's unwise enough to go outside while there are more poor, albeit twisted, souls like this one out and roaming the streets.

But that one lucky and abnormally powerful hit that the Titan managed was enough to make him slip up. He was having difficulty moving in a straight line, and his head sure as hell hurt. He couldn't take on someone doped up on Titan now, and he needed backup more than ever.

Nightwing pushes himself up, and takes care not to tumble over the edge.

"You didn't make this easy on us either, though, Grayson. Father was immediately assaulted the moment he got near you, and I'm fairly certain you nearly gave Drake a concussion. And while I approve, it wasn't particularly productive, given that he was attempting to help relocate you to somewhere we could both make sure you didn't manage anything that was beyond your normal level of incompetency, and so Father could begin seeking an antidote. You'd probably feel comforted; I'd estimate that some of the top scientists in the world wouldn't have been able to engineer a cure as quickly as Father and Drake did."

It takes some actual detective work and a lot of luck, but Dick finds Tim. Red Robin is wounded and standing next to two relatively normal looking, unconscious bodies, but mostly seems fine. Dick announces his presence subtly with him more or less dropping down from the ceiling, far less graceful than usual, and Tim greets him with an expression of relief.

"Ran into two people high on Venom." Tim explains, eyes darting to the massive, dark bruise that peaks out from Dick's hairline. "I take it the same happened to you?"

"Even better, met someone on Titan. Couldn't finish the fight. Was a little busy thinking about more pressing matters."

Tim frowns.

"Still no contact from Batman or Robin?"

"No. I also was worried that same happened to you, you know."

"…Oh, yeah. My communicator broke – something's been jamming our signals, so I was hoping that if I could trace it I could take down whatever it was and bring communications back online. Got out this far before I ran into these two, and well, poor luck and even worse timing put my comm in between the ground, my face, and one of their fists."

"Sounds like bad luck is just going around to us all tonight."

"Would that explain that bruise you've got?"

"Well, it's not like I purposefully bashed my head into a fire hydrant or something."

Tim is not really amused, but moves on regardless.

"I last recorded Batman's position down by the Industrial district; it probably has something to do with Joker. Rumor has it that he's set up base there for now, so it's pretty obvious why Batman would head that way. Robin was last at the outskirts of Amusement Mile, might have veered into the Bowery."

"Lovely. And I don't suppose either of them are likely to have decided to carry any extra communicators on them?"

"Batman might've, but we all know how he is with getting help and whether he wants it or not. And unlike me and presumably you, I doubt his got shattered, so it could just be the jammers getting in the way. I sincerely doubt the demon spawn did though."

Damian wouldn't, of course he wouldn't. Prideful and so determined to emulate his father even in Bruce's less than likeable habits. After this, Dick doesn't care if he has to stick an extra tracker or something on Damian with scotch tape or whatever; he has to teach his youngest brother to seriously consider the possibility of needing spares.

Not for the first time this night, Dick sighs.

"You get Batman," He tells Tim. "Even with your goofy wing costume, I'm faster, and the Bowery is farther from here than the Industrial district."

"It's practical, not fashionable." Tim retorts, "Besides, it looks better than your first Nightwing costume."

"We'll chat about my clearly superior sense of fashion and all around beauty later, bro. I kind of want to get this all over before the sun comes up."

"Same here. Alright, good luck in finding the homunculus."

"…You were even hurting yourself. Like an animal backed into a corner. You screamed for hours, too. You kept at it nearly constantly, like a dying banshee. It was… It…"

Damian is beating up kids.

That was Dick's first impression upon reach the monorail systems at the Bowery, looking down towards the abandoned shopping area below.

Further inspection showed that it was Damian beating up kids with glowing, vivid green eyes. Kids on Venom. Kids, who Dick would have assumed were given Venom by accident if it weren't for the fact that any given hospital that had been confirmed infected were at least several miles away, and these kids weren't just high on the drug, they were wasted, and that took a lot longer usage than Joker's plan had been in effect. Dick could see needle marks on their arms, with tiny bruises that could indicate repeated use of a used needle – something no respectable hospital would do.

It's roughly when Damian punches the last child to the ground when Dick lands a few feet away. Damian spins, and is seconds from launching himself into another attack before he recognizes Nightwing, and relaxes slightly.

"Nightwing," Robin says, evenly. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, naturally. Please tell me your comm-link broke and that you didn't dump it into the harbor or something."

"It fell out as I was defending myself from a teenager on Titan. I believe it was smashed into several pieces as he stepped on it. I can't really recall – I was busy attempting to force him to ram into a wall."

"Well, better than what happened to Red Robin's, I guess. Had me worried for a while."

"I don't see why. I'm perfectly capable of handling myself."

"So you tell me. Those cuts on your face say differently."

"And I suppose that bruise on your temple has just always been there."

"…Touché, little brother."

"Again, I ask you, why are you here?"

"What, not happy to see me?"

"Nightwing…"

"Like I said, you and Bats both went MIA. Something's jamming all our signals too. Things like that tend to make me worry, so I came looking for you."

"Penguin's has somehow acquired military grade jammers. His men have been talking about them as they patrol the surrounding area." Damian flicks his wrist in the direction toward the subway, where Dick can see a few dead bodies of what he assumes were Venom victims who wandered too close, and boards barricading the stairs down. "They aren't very quiet."

"Wonderful. Penguin decides to hole up underground while jamming communications, Joker's having his annual killing spree, and no one wants to stick to the plan."

"I recall the plan simply being to clear our designated areas."

"I recall your designated area being Wonder Tower."

"There was no one there in the first place."

"I also recall protocol being that if we lose contact with each other, we're supposed –"

"Yes, yes, I know."

"Then what's so hard about following it?"

"It was not well suited for this type of problem. Where is Father?"

"Batman, from what Red Robin and I are guessing, is probably hunting for Joker about half a mile west from here."

"Tt."

"C'mon. This place looks most clear for now. We should back, and work on seeing if we can call in backup or finish the analyzing Red Robin was supposed to do." Dick tries to throw an arm over Robin's shoulders. It predictable is rejected, and Damian retreats several paces away with a scowl.

"Will you stop that?"

"No, why? Don't like it?"

"We're working right now – there's no time for goofing off."

"Sooo… You're fine with it during normal hours?"

"What?"

"Great! Children's movies, popcorn, unhealthy snacks, and cuddling. You'll love it, I promise."

"What – no – no I won't!"

"I… I'm… sorry. Grayson. I'm sorry…"

Teasing Damian is always fun.

It's also distracting.

Before Dick sees anything, he hears it. A laugh that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up, a sound that makes him tense and reach for his escrima sticks – which he lost, he realizes a minute too late.

There's a shadow that looms behind Damian, thin and horrible, green hair and wild eyes. He doesn't even try to hide himself anymore, discarding stealth and any tiny amount of common sense he ever has at any given time (what does it matter when he's exactly where he wants to be?). And in his hand lies an unusually long syringe glows with a bright green liquid inside.

By now, Damian has already heard the sickening laughter, the footsteps, and in the midst of turning. Because Damian isn't the type to run away, isn't one to leap back and assess the situation before fighting. He tends to face his challenges head on, and that's the problem.

Nightwing is fast though. He doesn't really notice that he already started moving until he pushes Damian aside in a stupid, emotional move, because that little stunt leaves him wide open. It's amateurish and foolish, lessons that Bruce beat into him from day one not to make.

And Batman, as always, is proved right when Dick feels something plunge into his neck with a painful jolt.

Whoops.

Joker would be keen enough to aim for the neck, not the arm or something his Kevlar suit could deflect. It doesn't matter if he missed on bird, after all, Dick was stupid enough to push Damian instead of pull him away or something.

Dick smiles at his little brother, trying to seem apologetic. He would say something, like "Sorry" or "Run", but Venom is fast acting and he doesn't get more than a few seconds before the liquid is fully injected and he hears Damian furious cry.

And then everything else – sounds, smell, sight – are drowned out by a deep, burning that spreads nearly instantly across his entire body. His blood is boiling and freezing, his muscles are trying to become larger, to expand, and have no qualms about pushing his bones and organs aside in its haste. Pain and oh God he can't take this, he can't – he has to – he can't –

Something from the outside tries to take his arm. Dick doesn't even think – he can't, not now, rational thought is a thing of the past – and he freaks out, thrashing in any direction. The outside touch – cool, hot, gloved – hurts, everything hurts, and he can't… he can't…

He can't fall unconscious.

He can't die.

"…Drake arrived with Father in tow rather quickly. I don't know how; they either had piss poor timing or simply heard your screams from a mile away. Father pursued Joker until he was apprehended, Drake stayed with you. It took all three of us to hold you down. The Venom in your blood rendered us unable to sedate you, and by my estimation, you were awake and aware of your pain for nearly eighty-hours."

"…There's a chance he might never wake up, you know."

"That's not how things work according to all popular pop culture media I've observed."

"We're all human, and therefor biased toward the unrealistic, what's more ideal. Don't tell me you suddenly believe in 'happily ever after's now."

"…"

"I don't think I need to tell you of all people how reality works. Dick was also suffering from some major head trauma while simultaneously battling a drug overdose that nearly killed him."

"Is that why you've been hiding up in the manor, Drake?"

"What?"

"I never took you for such a coward – if Grayson means so much to you, why haven't you been here? You haven't so much as been down here more than a handful of times since he was injected with the cure, and even less before that."

"…You're right. I don't want to be here, not while Dick's… like this. It's not him, not the same, and it doesn't feel right. But no matter what I do want and am able to bring myself to do, there are lives beyond these walls. I have one, Bruce has one, and there are thousands we've promised to protect. Dick will be here, and while I know you two made a bond during your time as the dynamic duo, I know him just as well. You think he'd want us to waste time moping over him when we have an oath to fulfill?"

"…I've stayed with you. This entire time, you know. I… I haven't even been out on patrol with Father. I'm… not really sure why."

"It's my fault."

"No, it's not Damian."

"It is. I –"

"If you start down that path of regret and self-loathing, you'll never be able to dig yourself out of it. It brings nothing of value to you and only lets you ask 'what if' a thousand times, as if coming up with different answers will change the past. It won't."

"Father…"

"Focus on what you can do. Never forget what you couldn't do, so you can make it right the next time it happens. Dick will recover, but this will neither be sped up or down by regret and misery."

"I – understand…"

"…Grayson… Wake up… Please."

He wakes up to human mirrors, people standing around him looking tired, pained, and confused as he felt. They morph into varying versions of relief and happiness, and then Dick is able to separate them into individuals instead of a singular entity.

His family surrounds him, a protective circle that emits warmth and safety. Alfred holds some sort of sugary sweet that he rarely makes, Tim starts asking him how he feels, and Bruce lays a cool hand on his forehead. It feels nice and comforting, so Dick leans a little into the touch.

Damian stands at his left, radiating guilt and relief so much it nearly engulfs the entire room.

"Took you long enough, Grayson." Is all Damian says, voice even and carefully composed. It wouldn't give anything away to a complete stranger, or to someone who maybe only knew the latest Robin for a couple months. Dick had the pleasure of living and working with the kid for a year, though, and it told him all he needed to know.

"…Let's see you… do any… better…" Dick manages to say, cracking a weak grin. "Besides… still… here… aren't I?"

Damian watches, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth, because it's all he can do for now.

Dick lives, because it's something he has to do for as long as it's possible.

Fin.