So this is just a little something I wrote last night. It was intended to be a reverse!batfam fic, but I just have to many of them floating around. Little bit of Dick x Babs (or Dibs, whatever), and some OOCness. Rated for some graphic images, but none too bad.

Dick cracked against the chocolate, feeling it's chocolate-y goodness spread through his mouth like a warm, delicious fire. He loved chocolate.

A knock on the door cruelly ripped Dick from his own little Heaven. He swallowed the chocolate, hiding the wrapper in his binder. He'd have to find a better place later, but it would do(for now). Dick opened the door, scowling.

Little Timmy stood there, big eyes brimming to the top with innocence Dick didn't even know a child hero could have-much less in Gotham. But he knew that the sparkling innocence was all a fake Tim. It would all be back to normal any minute now.

"What is it?" Dick snapped, not exactly looking at the younger boy so he didn't feel the pang when he flinched.

"Alfwed said tonight'za move night and that I had to go..wetweive you." Little Tim said. That lisp was just so innocent. Dick almost wished it was real.

"Tell Alfred I'm not coming if I don't get to pick." Dick said, about to close the door when Timmy stopped him.

"Wait!" Dick did, freezing in place just like he had when...no, no, no, don't think about it. "Pwease, Dickie? For me? For us, as a family?"

Way to go Tim-bird. Playing his weaknesses. Just like the real Tim would. Dick sighed. "Oh, alright."

Timmy cheered, and Dick followed him downstairs.

They all sat there, a family. Bruce and Selina sat intertwined, gazing lovingly into eachother's eyes. Dick saw the flash of two rings and almost felt sick. Jason sat next to Bruce, smiling with protected innocence and lovable mischief at the tender age of ten. Damian was sitting on Bruce's lap, a baby at barely three years old, making adorable baby sounds. Even Barbra and her family was there, sitting on a separate couch. The commish's hand was locked with his wife's, and they smiled. Barbra waved at him, bringing the spotlight to Dick.

"Hey, Dick!" Bruce said. "Ready to watch a movie?"

That was it. Pure joy. No alternative motive. How sweet. How nice. How unrealistic. But Dick only smiled his artificial smile, as fake as the faces in front of him, and said, "Sure."

The popcorn was brought out by Alfred, who smiled kindly at Dick, and was buttery and salty and delicious. It melted in Dick's mouth, almost making him moan in pleasure.

As the credits started rolling, Dick decided that living a petty lie was as good-if not better-than living a harsh and painful truth.

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Cerulean blue eyes slid open. White ceiling. That's all they saw. A boring white ceiling. With three hundred and sixty titles on it. I would know. I've counted before.

The next sense to come back is sound. The shrill beeping off a heart monitor. It just wouldn't stop. Beep beep beep beep. Almost masked the sound of heavy, comforting breathing. Almost. It meant that somebody was in the room with me. Once upon a time, I might've cared. Now-not so much.

Then came feeling. The hard restraints cutting into his skin, almost breaking through the delicate flesh. The would-be comfiness of the bed beneath me, rushing up to greet me. Pain. Oh, yes let's not forget pain. So important it lit up the night sky with it's neon letters and flashy lights. I've always been one for a show, anyway.

Smell was next. Smelled like a hospital room. Clean, disinfectants, clean, pills, clean, blood. Fresh. A musky scent of a cologne drifted next to him, suffocating him and washing away the cleanness like the ocean does to a beach.

Taste was last. Though there wasn't much to taste, really. Plaster, possibly.. Sandpaper, maybe. Blood? Most definitely.

But the thing that really made me know that it was real, all real, was the fact that I couldn't feel from the waist down. Yeah, I'm awake. I wished I wasn't. Maybe if I was still away, flown off to La La land deep into my subconscious I wouldn't have felt pain, but chocolate and buttery pop corn. Laughs and movie. Family around him.

But, no. I am awake and he was here. Might as well face it. Beep beep, said the heart monitor. My only friend. How sad. Well, the blood bags were his friends, too. Except they were helluva lot uglier than the Heart Monitor. And they didn't talk as much. Beep beep beep, said Heart Monitor. Though, maybe I could use some peace and quiet for once. Beep. Beep.

The breaths inhaled and snorted. I vaguely wondered who was in the room withme, and it wasn't like I could turn his head to see. But the musky cologne hinted at Bruce. Reality seemed so stark compared to my dream world.

Why did the ceiling have to be white? It was bright. I don't like bightness. I've grown up in the dark, in so many shadows. Of people. Of buildings(as in, literal shadows). Hide in the dark. Away from the spotlight. No light no light. Not a single shard of light should be directed my way, lest it pierce my soul and shatter through me like my bathroom mirror. Alfred had thrown a fit.

I wondered what kind of painkiller/drugs I am on.

I counted heartbeats. 64. A minute had passed. Y'know, the heart beats an average of 64 times a minute. That's how I told time,when there was no watch or clock in sight(or hearing) . Of course, it was sometimes inaccurate when it sped up or slowed down but that's how time worked. How it felt. So, more accurate than the actual time (or, at least, that's how it worked in my mind).

I remembered the last time my heart had sped up, pounding so quickly I thought it might overload and explode, splattering my guts out through my chest(thank god that didn't happen… though I hoped I would've been alive for a little bit longer to see people's faces if it did). It was dark out, and we had been stupid. I would willingly admit that. We had been crossing the road-Jason, Wally, Roy(who said he was too old for Tricks and Treats and was just along so we didn't get in any trouble. Way to go, Roy. Maybe you should join the team just to make sure there's no trouble there, either-or any moles) and I- when a car slammed, full force, into me(I was like a deer a deer more than a robin except for when I went flying, spinning out of control).Asphalt. Tires. Yells and screams and the musty smell of the woods and gasoline just choking me as the car sped on by. Didn't care. That's how a lot of people are. Then there were sirens. Lots of sirens. And red. Red all over my blue hoodie, making purple. Tee hee. My head had hurt, and so had my spine, and all I really could remember were colors.

Blue. Black. Grey. Red, lots of it and different shades too. The disappearing smudge of brown and light yellow as Wally disappeared past him. Green. Bright, jarring yellow that hurt my eyes. Purple. White.

White. All I saw now was white, and very light blue of the hospital gowns and sheets. And the staff. There were three main people who took care of me. Margret, Madge and Rowan. Margaret liked to talk, chatting on more endlessly than the heart monitor like a little bird trilling it's song. Tweet tweet tweet(I vaguely wondered if she used Twitter obsessively*). Madge was kind, and sometimes snuck him little bits of candy. She was very nice, if a bit too professional. Rowan was silent. Period. Hee hee.

Whatever painkiller I am on, it must've been strong.

There was some shuffling next to him, and the soft sounds of sleep stopped. Bruce must've woken up. I didn't move-as if I could-as rustles of fabric slid through skin, indicating that Bruce was leaning forward. (or was it Bruce?)

"Oh, Dick," said a rough voice. Yeah, definitely Bruce. The sudden noise echoed around the room and I flinched. Or, I would've if he was allowed that room. "I'm so very, very sorry this had to happen to you. Damian misses you very much. I don't have the heart to tell him what really happened, and he...just wants you back soon. Jason feels guilty, and Tim...doesn't know what to think. We all miss you, Dick, and we need you. Please come back soon."

There was some more rustling of starched thin fabric against cut, weathered and thick flesh as Bruce moved. Something took my hand. His hand was rough, cut from working out so long and from long nights in Gotham. My callouses are from the trapeze, and very different from his. And Bruce's hand is so much bigger, so warm compared to my cold, dead one.

My first human contact since...I came here. Le gasp.

Bruce started humming. It was a familiar song , something I'd heard countless times when I was young, injured and bedridden. You are my sunshine. Some might think that Bruce's voice was rough and rusty, like a machine that desperately needs to be oiled. But no. It is beautiful, hitting the high and low notes with equal amount of emotion and...just pure amazing ness. My only sunshine. The same is to be said for when he laughs. I am a proud reason for that laugh. Well, me and my adopted brother. You make me happy Y'know, when I first started out as Robin, people weren't happy. They said I was too young, a child soilder even. And so many other things they probably shouldn't have said in a child's presence. Protester indeed. And you're such a great role model, cusser, potty mouth, whatever. When skies are grey But Robin stopped Batman from killing. Made him into a family guy. I'm proud to say that, as Robin. You'll never know dear And that song has come to symbolize our relationship. To me, anyways. And maybe Bruce, too. It's hard to tell. How much I love you. And, it has also come to symbolize these circumstances. Think about it. Please don't take my sunshine away.

Heartwarming performance, Bruce. I think I might cry. Or clap. If I could.

"Dick?" Bruce said in surprise. Another achievement:surprising the goddamn Batman. And, yes, I know that saying is overused. So is the achievement. "Are you crying?"

And so I was. Silently. Tears were forming in my tear ducts and sliding down my fresh cheeks. Which hurt. ...What? I said I might cry! Actually, I said I would. So don't act so surprised.

And, Bruce? You might want to rethink what you say to your not-quite-dead-but-almost technical son when he's first waking up.

"Here, have some water." Bruce said and I saw his sleeves briefly as he got a glass. Long. Black. Maybe he's wearing a suit, but why would he? He hates those things. Unless he came here straight from work, which explains his snoozing. Bruce is a little bit of a workaholic, in case you haven't noticed.

The cool, glassy glass was held against my lips. The water slid through my parted, chapped, gnawed and really broken lips, swirling down my throat in a welcome relief. At least the feeling of swallowing a section of a wall was gone. Mostly.

All too soon the glass was lifted away. I called out for more, but it didn't come out that way. More like "Mrr pliz wn mrr." Yeah, I sound like Frankenstien. Or a zombie. Concussions will sometimes do that to a person.

Bruce looked shocked(well, as much of him as I could see, but I could imagine his face as he said…)"They never mentioned you having any problems with your voice."

This is weird. Extremely weird. Bruce is not acting like Bruce, He's actually acting all concerned and all. When I'm conscious/awake, too! I almost think this is a dream, but wait-

White ceiling? Check.

Immobilization? Check.

No feeling below the waist? Check.

Well, this isn't a dream. What's left of the hairs on my arm prick up when I feel Bruce is staring at me. Oh, awkward. But, hey, know what reminds me of awkward? Batman and Catwoman. Or, recently at least. (yeah this is just my brain's way of escaping reality. is it working?)

They've always had the hots for eachother. But then Bruce proposed and Selina declined and now… awkward. I hoped it would get better soon, and they'd be back to the chase, always flirting and me as a messenger boy(which got kind of annoying after a while but hey. they were in love. Or close enough, anyways).

That was last year.

Now, I don't really want Bruce to get married and stop paying attention to me and my brothers but-Beep beep, says Heart Monitor warningly. Oh, hey. Welcome back to Reality. Thanks Heart Monitor. Now excuse me while I unfriend you.

Oh, and hello pain and awkward staring. Hey, is that a crack in the perfect ceiling? Oh no! Better go fix it! …(nice try, brain) Well, Bruce is staring at me and I'm staring at the ceiling. Stare, stare, stare. That's all I ever do(which isn't true. I can still blink, y'know).

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep, says the heart monitor. I see a flash of green-so nice to see another color- and the pain builds up, blossoming into a wide and terrible flower. The only way to describe it is a thousand OWs all compacted and screamed as bloody murder. No, more. It hurts and Heart Monitor is working on it's es. However much painkillers I am on isn't enough.

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

But I don't cry out. I've never cried out, never screamed, since I was ten years old(Well, that I remember. Maybe I did during the Crash. I don't remember that, though, I'll have to ask Roy or something…) Oh, but it hurts. And I can practically feel Bruce's panic as he fumbles about the room (sometime later I'll have to make a witty joke about Batman being clumsy. And panicking) And it's so terrible and fierce and sudden and…

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.

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"So, what did you think of it?" Tim asked as soon as the movie is over and their bowls of popcorn are just kernels now. It was good while it lasted, anyways.

"It was good," Dick says coldly.It was great. Because these aren't real Dick doesn't want to share any positive experience with them. More than he can help it, at least.

"I liked it," Jason announced, yawning. Dami was already asleep, drooling a little on Bruce's shirt. Selina had teased him for it. He laughed it off. They weren't even trying to seem real anymore…

"Alright, guys, bedtime!" Bruce announced, standing up and swinging Damian from side to side. "Thanks for coming, Jim." The only time he ever says that is when one of them is kidnapped. Or at a party/charity event, aka hours of doom.

"It was my pleasure." And looking into his eyes, Dick can tell it really was. smiles, and says something Dick didn't catch. Cuz Barbra pulls him close, and stands on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. Dick blushes. Tim and Jason make kissy noises.

Dick wishes Real Barbra would feel this way towards him. He wishes Real Barbra would kiss me, or let him kiss her.

Fake Barbra smiles her fake smile and Dick stares right through it. His cheeks are ablaze. Somebody needs a fire hose to quench the fire.

The Gordons leave. Bruce and Selina take Damian up to bed, singing soft, duet lullabies together as they go.

"Carry me, Dick!" Timmy cries, big eyes pleading, and arms up in a CARRY ME gesture.

"No, carry me!" Jason protests. "You carried him last time!"

Dick stares at them both. Real Tim and Jay never fight over him like this. They'd never let him have the honor of such affection. But, moving on to more important matters. Who should he pick?

Dick ended up carrying both, though their unreal weights nearly topple him. They're swaying down the hallway, Tim shrieking in delight and Jason crowing to go faster. Something else blossoms up in him, something Dick hasn't felt since that one Halloween night. It is the opposite of the pain, but it has the same build up. It is happy, it is joy. Pure and innocent as these fake blues, fake kids on his back(but they feel and look so real)

Dick laughs and he runs. His laughter joins theirs, and he can't quite remember why he is so sad or why this had all seem fake. But then he does remember, and it hits Dick like a ton of stops running, much to Fake Timmy and Fake Jason's disappointment.

He'll never, ever be able to run like this in real,life ever again. No more trapeze. No more Robin. No more...moving. Just poor little pitiful Dick Grayson moving about in his wheelchair.

There's a reason Dick likes these little fake worlds more than the real one, y'know.

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When I wake up again, there's quiet, friendly muzak dancing through the air. The kind Madge likes. I see a flash of light blue from my peripheral vision, and hear her clinking through the instruments. Unlike Bruce, she senses my awakening as soon as it happens. Must be a medial thing.

"Good morning, mi pajarito," Madge said, and the tinking increased. So it's morning.

"Gdd mrnin Mgge." I said. Well, I tried to say 'Good morning Madge' but it came out like that. Again, head injuries. I wondered what happened to Bruce.

Beep beep, said Heart Monitor. I guess he was mad at me for unfriending him. Well, he started it. (what am I doing? making friends with inanimate objects? I must be crazier than the Joker)

"Your guardian was very worried," Madge said as she slipped a small bar of chocolate into my mouth. I smiled at her the best I could in grattitude, which still felt like my face was being stretched out unnaturally(Alfred has long since hammered not speaking with food in your mouth not my very being). "Don't give us a scare like that, okay?"

It wasn't really my fault. Stupid heart. Stupid Heart Monitor. And, most of all, stupid car. It should've seen us...well, okay, that was on me. But, still, it wasn't really my fault. I can't really control what my heart does. I kind of depend on it and it just let me down. (dear heart, please never do that again. love, Dick)

But I nodded the best I could because Madge is Madge and she just wants the best for me. So does Bruce. And everybody else(well, except for rich high society and criminals and bullies etc., but the points still stands). I could feel rather than see Madge's red lipsticked glow of a smile.

I bit down on the chocolate, and it cracked open, the flavor washing over my mouth like a delicious tidal wave. It was like Heaven in the midst of Hell.

Which is exactly what it was.

All you need to know about those wacky POVs: When he is dreaming, it's 3rd person POV and when he's awake, it's 1st person. I could continue this, I guess. This is kind of like a beggining chapter.

Astrick=Twitter because of the tweets and the bird. Get it? ...oh, nevermind.

Dick-Age 13

Jason-Age 10

Tim-Age 6

Damian-Age 3