Sleeping Sickness

summary: Dick Grayson gets abducted out of costume and neither the Batman nor his team know where and how to save him. But whoever has him knows his secret alter-ego and on the brink of madness from psychological torture, Dick is having a hard time clinging to his own identity. (Contains slash between Conner and Dick & heavy on father/son dynamic between Bruce & Dick)

genre: Angst, Hurt-Comfort, Drama

rated: M (Torture, Language, Adult themes)

author note: Shameless Conner Kent/Dick Grayson slasher. Title and chapter themes inspired by the song "Sleeping Sickness" by City and Colour. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy.

Epilogue

Bruce walked slowly and cautiously through the dimly lit hall, bare feet almost moving soundlessly across the wood floor as he approached the door to Dick's bedroom.

It was the first night since Dick had been released from Medbay that there was no screams, no shouts for help. Bruce couldn't relish in the relief until he checked on Dick, to assure himself that the young man he viewed as a son was safe and sound in his bed.

His hand slowly twisted the knob while the other gripped the inner edge of the door as he slowly eased it open. A small stream of low light cast through the room as Bruce peeked his head in, relief instantly washing over him.

Conner slept flat on his back, one of his arms wrapped around Dick who lay curled up on his side, holding him close. Conner's hand absently brushed at Dick's upper arm as Dick twitched slightly in his sleep before settling. Conner's other hand clasped over the one that Dick had entwined in the materiel of the tank over Conner's chest. The sheets were tucked up around them and covered their pressed bodies. Dick's face was smooth in his sleep, an almost peaceful expression Bruce hadn't seen since they rescued the young man.

Bruce knew everything wasn't all right. The fear, tension and anxiety would stay with Dick, with all of them, for a while as they worked through this. They would take it a day at a time. Grief and struggle weren't knew to them; it had shaped them into the men they were today and they would use this, like their miseries before it, to fuel their nightly fight with the darkness. But tonight at least, as Dick lay sleeping entwined in the arms of someone who cared for him almost as much as the man watching from the doorway, Bruce felt hopeful. He shared the peace he saw on Dick's face, and for tonight that would suffice.

Batman said nothing as he watched Nightwing, back turned to him, pull his gauntlets onto his arms. Dick took a few minutes to obsessively ensure all compartments were fully stocked in the gloves and hidden compartments of his uniform. As he bent down to grab his escrima sticks, he quickly turned and with precision hurled at hit at the man lurking in the shadows behind him.

Batman caught in one hand just inches from his face, stepping into the light of the changing area of the cave. He himself was in full gear, cowl hanging behind his neck.

"Your throwing velocity is slower," he smirked, tossing the stick back to Dick who caught it, holstering them in the back of his uniform.

"I was aiming to smack your stupid face, not knock you out," Dick smirked back, facing Bruce.

"Dick," Bruce started.

"Don't," Dick shook his head, sitting on the bench in the center of the room. His hands were clenched into fists resting onto of his knees, eyes staring down at the floor. "I know you've tracked down the thugs and are close to finding the Doctor. I'm not asking to tag along on the mission but I need to get back out there on patrol, Bruce. Its been almost a month. I feel good, my injuries are mostly healed. I need to get back to normal. Please. don't try to talk me out of going on patrol."

"I wasn't," was all Bruce said, pleased by the surprised look on Dick's face as he moved to stare up at him. He reached out a gloved hand. "Ready to go, partner?"

Dick secured his mask before looking up to Bruce, clasping his outstretched hand in a firm grip. As Bruce pulled Dick to his feet, their gloved hands clasped, Dick wanted to thank him, but he also wanted to make a quip to ease the knot in his chest at the nervousness he was embarrassed of feeling on his first night out on patrol. He wanted to reassure Bruce he was fine but also wanted to throw a punch to prove it.

Their dynamic was complicated. They were master and apprentice, father and son, brothers and partners all in one messed up package. But Dick was also complicated; simultaneously an optimist with his faith and trust that countered the vigilante lifestyle he lead at night in a constant raging battle against the evil he knew existed out there. This dichotomy they existed between was their normal. So Dick embraced it and knew that much like with the loss of his parents that thrust him into the life of a ward of the richest man in Gotham and the heir to the throne of the Dark Knight, his most recent struggle would in turn propel him forward.

"I'm ready," was all Dick responded with before patting Bruce on the shoulder and moving past him to head out and move forward.