chapter seventeen - disordered

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WAYNE MANOR
OCTOBER 17th — 02:15 EDT

dick muttered eloquently, "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck."

he grabbed the nearest piece of cloth he could find, pressing it over the wound. it was, regrettably, a wrinkled crewneck. dick pulled it off, squinting in the darkness of his bedroom to see which one.

"really?" he sighed. it was his gotham gymnastics crewneck from last year. making a face, dick pressed it back onto his forearm.

he held it for a minute, stretching his legs while he waited for the bleeding to staunch. because the world did not revolve around idiots, dick's music continued to play quietly. eminem was talking about everyone envying him. quite a juxtaposition from the issue at hand.

he pulled off the crewneck slowly, tossing it into the laundry bin by his closet. letting out a string of curse words in multiple languages, dick surveyed his current situation.

not great.

he washed up quietly, bandaging the wound with a sick sense of familiarity. nine months, down the drain. nine months over a training exercise.

he changed into a long sleeve, pulling a zip-up hoodie overtop for good measure. he tidied his room and finished his calculus homework but anger consumed him. his fists shook and all he could do was resist the urge to scream and thrash. he did this to himself.

dick closed his window and made his bed.

his stomach heaved with the thought of what he did. it rolled with how everything he worked for, fought for, was thrown away for nothing.

he sat down on the edge of his bed, facing the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. his leg bounced up and down, up and down.

he looked unkempt. he looked tired. his hair was too long, his eye bags were too dark. his mouth was set in an unhappy line.

dick took a melotonin and listened to eminem until he passed out.

MOUNT JUSTICE
OCTOBER 23rd — 17:12 EDT

recognized: robin-B01

dick pulled his sleeves down past his palms. his hoodie was unzipped, revealing the graphic tee he wore underneath—merch from a local gotham band called new genesis.

he walked with light footsteps, his fingernails pushed deep into his palms, causing little crescent-shaped indents. the sight of the mount justice living room—the green couches, the holo-screens displaying live footage of the capital cities, the flat screen playing static—just made him more anxious.

the league had decided to put them into therapy. dick didn't really care—been there, done that—but he could tell that the rest of the team was fighting against it just based off of bruce's expression when telling him.

bruce also drilled in that it wasn't optional. coming to the mountain was the first time he'd left the manor in nearly a week. it was a silent trade: dick could skip school for however long as he needed as long as he attended therapy.

"robin?" m'gann's voice broke through the silence. it would have startled him if he wasn't trained to hide fear.

dick spun around slowly to face her. she looked rough. paler than he'd ever seen, hair tied into a messy ponytail, dark eyebags under her green eyes.

dick's throat was suddenly too dry to talk. he opened his mouth, so many words on the tip of his tongue, so many apologies. he said nothing.

"i'm surprised the league let you in," she said, crossing her arms. "you're not a hero, you're a murderer."

dick blinked.

"you BETRAYED US," m'gann spat. "YOU KILLED US ALL. TRAITOR, TRAITOR, TRAITOR!"

he murdered connor. he murderer artemis. he murdered bruce and barry and iris and-

his fist hit m'gann's face.

he couldn't remember swinging, or even deciding to punch her. he was standing there, and then he was punching her.

she yelled out, her hands flying to her nose. red blood dripped down her chin, a stark contrast to her green skin. "MURDERER!" she yelled. "COLD BLOODED KILLER!"

dick pulled a bird-a-rang from his pocket, holding it up, pulling his arm back, preparing to swing-

"earth to robin?" m'gann said softly, placing one hand on his shoulder.

her nose was not bleeding. he was no longer holding a weapon. dick slowly let his arm fall back to his side. where was his sanity?

he was ready to hurt her. murderer, murderer, murderer!!!!!!!

she pulled him close and wrapped her arms around his frame. "you didn't kill anyone," she whispered.

dick opened his mouth to argue, but found himself unable to speak. he choked down a sob and pushed his head into her shoulder. the only one he didn't kill. the only friend he had left.

m'gann pulled away slowly. tears ran down her cheeks. "i love you," she said. then she turned around and left the room.

dick stood there, frozen. he could barely breathe. choking down air was difficult and moving was impossible. murderer! murderer!

you didn't kill anyone.

murderer!

-

dick didn't know how long he stood in the centre of the room, gasping for air. it wasn't until connor stormed past him, not a glance his way, that dick snapped out of his trance.

he stepped closer to the couch, setting down one hand to balance himself. connor was headed toward the back exit. dick didn't care. he should care. he should be curious.

"robin?"

spinning toward the voice nearly knocked dick to the floor. in the doorway of the usually-unused "office" room leaned black canary, arms folded casually. her long hair was tied into a low ponytail and she was wearing reading glasses.

"you're earlier than i expected," she continued. "would you like to start?"

"yeah, i-" dick paused. i was trying to avoid seeing wally. "i would rather get it out of the way."

she nodded to him to follow her, and he did. the room was small and minimally decorated. a couch and a chair, a small coffee table and a few plants. the dim fluorescent lighting made the room feel even smaller.

dinah sat into the chair and picked up a notebook from the table. she flipped to a new page, scribbling a couple words down. dick sat on the very edge of the couch. the silence was deafening.

"how are you today?"

dick rolled his eyes at the surface-level question. it was a good thing he was wearing dark tinted sunglasses. "feeling pretty shit, to be honest. how are you?"

dinah's pencil scraped the notepad. the only sound. "have you been in therapy before, robin?"

"did you ask that to everyone?"

"no," she answered truthfully. "and i already know the answer."

dick leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. his hair fell in front of his eyes. "i was in therapy for three years after my parents died."

pencil on paper. "why'd you stop?"

"i started patrolling full-time. it felt like all i was doing was lying to her." dick ran a hand through his hair. "and she kept freaking out over any injuries. she knew i was lying about them."

dinah wrote for a long time, humming to herself quietly as she did it. eventually, she stopped and looked him in the eyes. "will you give me a rundown on how the mission went for you?"

murderer.

"uhm." dick licked his lips. his mouth was suddenly dry again. "it went shit, as you saw. we- i failed."

"of course the mission failed. that was how the simulation was designed. no matter what choices you made, you'd fail."

"and i made the wrong fucking choices."

dinah clasped her hands together. "what do you mean by that?"

"you knew." wally had said. "from the beginning. you never came for survivors."

dick stared at his hands. "i chose to kill them."

"you couldn't have known how it would play out."

the longer dick stared at his hands, the harder they shook. he wasn't crying, but it sounded like it when he spoke. "i knew. i knew that kaldur and connor would die when i sent them. i told wally that we were going to save his family but i went in there to-"

kill him.

dinah was writing again. dick pulled his hoodie sleeves to cover his shaky, shaky hands. "i didn't even care. i didn't even feel bad."

"you knew."

"TRAITOR, TRAITOR, TRAITOR!"

"you're the most experienced. your training kicked in. you're not to blame for their deaths, dick."

"i'm just not a good person." his eyes prickled. he swiped at them, knocking off his glasses. "i'm selfish."

dinah kept writing in that fucking notebook. dick's stomach turned with the memory of his friends, dead. his family, dead. his boyfriend, dead.

blood on his hands. tears in his eyes.

he wasn't going to fucking cry here. dick stood up, forcing his shaking hands to press into his eye sockets. he pulled on his hood and slipped back on the sunglasses.

"dick, please just sit-"

"i can't do this, dinah."

it was pathetic how meek he sounded. pathetic how a fucking simulation was making him feel this way. but no, he'd always been like this. a selfish, mean, no-good coward. ever since he could remember.

dick zipped up his hoodie and left the room. the word 'sorry' played on his lips. he couldn't bring himself to say it.

WAYNE MANOR
OCTOBER 25th — 01:51 EDT

the world spun.

dick inched himself closer to the mirror, scissors in one hand and a handheld mirror in the other. he used the handheld to see the nape of his neck, craning his head to one side.

he bit his lip as he snipped off an inch of hair. layering is hard enough when one's sober, and dick could barely see straight. dark hair littered his shoulders. a bottle of near-empty vodka stood beside his knee.

his eyes struggled to focus on the task at hand. dick set down his mirror and scissors, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

"you're making connor be a distraction?" m'gann cut him off, voice rising. "that's a death-wish! you're using him as a sacrifice! aqualad would have never done that."

dick threaded his fingers through his hair. it was short. similar to how he wore it before they started the team.

she whimpered loudly, holding her head with one hand and using the other to steady herself on the wall.

"he's gone." she slipped down the wall, landing on buckled knees. "con-"

his phone dinged. dick pulled his palms away from his eyes, looking down at the screen; it was a text from wally. he frowned, throwing his phone onto his bed. wally and he hadn't talked since the call after failsafe. it had been three days now.

after a few more snips, dick considered his hair done and layered. luckily for him, it was curly and black and hard to notice how awfully he had cut it. he ran a hand over his scalp, fluffing it out.

"charming." he nodded at his mirrored self.

dick took another swig of vodka. barely a sip remained. daring to stand, he stumbled his way over his unmade bed. he ran his tongue over his too-perfect teeth and grabbed his phone, shoving it in the back pocket of his pyjama pants.

-

"do you ever think about death?" dick asked the uber driver.

they were driving fast down the highway. music in a language he didn't speak played quietly. skyscrapers filled the night sky and dick wished he could see the stars.

he didn't quite remember calling an uber. or why he called an uber. but now he sat in the back of a pretty nice car, being taken to a forgotten location.

in the back of his mind, robin told him to be vigilant, to pay attention. to memorize the licence plate and to make sure he had the upper hand, just in case. in the front of his mind, however, dick told him to find the stars.

his hands were trembling as he used them to wipe his eyes. the stars, oh. he missed the way he saw them in bialya. he missed how they twinkled and shone and how the night sky was not black but an explosion of colours from all over the milky way. he could see more constellations than he knew of and the stars stretched endlessly in every direction.

in gotham, you were lucky to see the north star.

dick pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the window. he would move. he would leave this city and live where he could see the stars overhead. he would move to where the sky was endless.

kansas.

the corn field near wally's house. the clear air, cloudless sky, expanse of stars. the smell of earth and the faraway sound of summer wind amongst trees. wally's hand in his.

dick opened his phone. he looked at the missed call from wally today. he couldn't keep ignoring him. how would they live together in kansas then?

dick shifted his thoughts: romania.

long-ago memories of his childhood. the dark trees and crisp air of cluj-napoca. the stars, the constellations. his family, his friends.

"i think everyone does."

dick snapped back to the present, focusing again on the car, the road, the uber driver. a middle-aged man with photos of his wife and kids clipped onto the dashboard.

"not everyone thinks of it the same," dick replied. his mouth moved slower than his brain and his words came out slurred.

"and yet it is the one thing that makes us equal, after all. death."

a beat.

dick folded his hands in his lap. "i think my brain may kill me, sir."

the driver exhaled loudly. he kept his eyes on the road. "you're young, mr grayson. don't beat yourself up about petty mistakes. try again, fail again. fail better."

"you're very philosophical."

the driver pulled to the side of the road. he parked and turned off the car, before turning to face dick. "the most selfish thing you can do in life is die."

dick blinked.

"we're at your destination. would you like me to wait?"

"no, no," dick said, shaking his head and making the world blur. "thank you very much."

"don't drink too much, kid. stay safe out there."

dick stepped out of the car. he was hit all at once by the cold air of downtown gotham. he shut the uber door lightly, staring up at the grand building he'd been dropped off at.

the church of catholocism.

dick almost laughed at past him's decision. sure, he was born catholic, but when was the last time he practiced the religion? the night his parents died?

the large, ornate doors to the church were locked. dick picked them with ease. the sound of aged, creaking wood was loud against the quiet serenity of night.

mosaics and murals lined the walls and pews the floor. dick looked up to see the god he once prayed to.

"i'm an atheist now," dick said. his whisper was deafening against the silence. he wasn't even sure why he was whispering. who was he even talking to?

slowly, he made his way to the front of the pews. he lay across one in the front row, and stared up at the ceiling. a mural was painted there, too.

"is this the best it gets?"

he ran a hand through his hair, surprised to find it short. he missed the way it ran so long before, hiding him, enveloping him. dick threaded both hands through his hair once again for good measure, before settling them on his eyes.

"i killed my friends. i saved myself every step of the way and i killed them all. i lied to them and i didn't even care."

the walls didn't reply.

"and now i'm drunk and alone, trespassing in a church downtown."

dick moved his hands off his eyes, folding them in his lap.

"there's my confessional then. forgive me, god."

he lay there until the first rays of morning sun began to peak through the windows, filling the church with an abundance of pink-red light. dizzy and uncoordinated, dick makes his way through the pews, back toward the grand doors.

he salutes the statue of jesus one last time. "'til next time. ciao."

when dick walks out toward the street, surprise hits him like a logging truck. parked just outside is a familiar black vehicle and in the driver's seat: alfred pennyworth.

rolling down the window slowly, alfred pulled his sunglasses down so that he and dick can properly make eye contact. "ready to go home then, master richard?" alfred asked.

dick stuffed his hands in his pockets and made his way to the passenger's side door. he sat down rather abruptly and leaned his forehead onto the door. "thank you, alfred," he mumbled.

and before alfred had the chance to scold him, he was fast asleep.

MOUNT JUSTICE
OCTOBER 28th — 3:57 EDT

"how you are today, robin?"

it had become routine, therapy every day. dinah had yet to ask him to recount the simulation, and he had yet to walk out on her. they talked about things that were easy: school, patrols, the future.

"swell. how are you?"

dick's head throbbed. headaches were constant. his skin hurt like shredded paper and his heart hurt with the knowledge of everyone and everything he was ignoring.

"i'm well, thank you."

dick's hands hadn't stopped shaking since the first time he walked in this room. bruce had taken him off patrol because of it. it didn't matter, anyhow. he couldn't save anyone.

"have you gone back to school yet?" dinah's voice was sweet, always too sweet. it felt pitiful and sappy, the voice that you hear at funerals.

dick ran his hands through his hair. the length still felt strange, even after days of having it. "no. i can't."

"will you elaborate?"

i would rather fucking kill myself than have to sit down in a classroom and pretend my entire world didn't fucking end. pretend i didn't sacrifice everyone i know to save myself. pretend i wasn't a raging narcissist with a knack for killing everyone around me.

"i can't focus." his left leg bounced up and down, up and down. he felt like wally, though wally's leg-bouncing was for an entirely different reason. "i'm losing myself."

dick pulled a bird-a-rang from his pocket, holding it up, pulling his arm back, preparing to swing-

he didn't know what was real anymore.

"what do you mean by that?" dinah asked. "losing yourself?"

dick stared at the cream-coloured wall behind dinah. she had recently hung a large painting of a lake up. two fishing poles ran from one corner of the painting to the centre, where a splash in the water drew the eye. it was tacky.

"like who i was a week ago isn't who i am now."

dinah scribbled that down in her notes. "let's talk about that," she said with a polite smile.

dick thought of all the texts wally had sent that had gone unanswered. all the times he called until he gave up.

"when my parents died, i felt completely different too," dick admitted. "but i also moved across the world, lost contact with the circus, and took on an entirely new identity."

he couldn't tear his eyes from their skeletal bodies, covered in dirt and moss. both of their fingernails and hair were long and yellow-tinted whilst their skin was ripped and eaten and protruded by bones. his parents.

"but now, i..." dick closed his eyes, trying to focus his thoughts. "it feels like everything is the same except i am worse."

MURDERER!

dinah nodded, crossing her legs and flipping her notepad to a new page. "the worst part is that everyone keeps telling me i did my best and i tried my hardest to save everyone. but i didn't."

a pause. silence that lasted too long. dinah, judging him.

"i knew sending connor out was going to lead to his death," dick continued. "i knew that kaldur wouldn't make it back. i knew that bringing wally with me into the mothership would guarantee his death and i-"

the lump in his throat stopped him from rambling. his head throbbed and his hands shook and all he could think was selfish, selfish, selfish.

"i can't do it anymore."

"do what?"

i can't live anymore.

"i can't be the leader. i can't be in charge."

dinah set down her pencil and pad and leaned in closer to him. "you did what you had to in order to save humanity. you did what batman would've done."

"FUCK BATMAN!" dick yelled, standing. "i killed my friends. i killed my boyfriend. i was doing what he would've wanted me to do and i hated it."

dick's voice broke. he sat down slowly.

"i don't wanna be him anymore," he whispered. "i just wanna be me. dick grayson. i just wanna feel okay."

i don't wanna be robin, sat on the tip of his tongue.

"you're resilient, dick. i know you." dinah placed her hand on his knee, finally stopping the endless bouncing. "it's hard right now, but eventually you'll feel okay."

-

after leaving dinah's office he usually headed directly back to the manor. dick would do anything he could to avoid any chance of running into any member of the team.

today, however, something made him pause.

dick rooted through the pockets of his cargo pants until he found his headphones. his hands shook as he slipped them into his ears, but the moment music started playing they seemed to calm.

he headed toward the kitchen. it looked the same as always: clean but disordered. dick zipped up his hoodie and climbed up onto the counter. he opened the cupboard closest to the roof and and pulled out the fake backing. behind it was what he called his 'post-mission hot bitch stash:' candy, chocolate, drugs, and alcohol.

dick grabbed a bag of skittles and his dab pen. he replaced the fake backing and climbed down from the counter. walking in beat with the music, dick took a few hits of the pen. he headed to the west side of the mountain, to the part they barely used. at the dead end of two corridors was the mountain control room.

the room was filled with monitors on three of the walls, weapons on the fourth. desks with computers on them formed a semi-circle around the biggest desk in the room, complete with a big pillowy chair.

the big desk was littered with files and notepads, the monitor was covered in sticky notes. the majority of sticky notes were case updates written in layman's terms. the others were notes and drawings from wally.

dick sat down and booted up the computer, crunching aimlessly on the skittles. he rooted through the justice league files until he found everything on the simulation.

he didn't know how long he sat there, reading and re-reading any information they had on the simulation. he skimmed through scientific articles on the benefits of a virtual reality, sorted through memos from j'onn on how the exercise would work, and he read kaldur's mission report over and over and over again until it felt like his eyes were bleeding.

the cause-and-effect list of what went wrong was nearly six pages long. dick's name was on every line.

"robin?"

startled, dick spun his chair around so that it faced the door. leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed was connor, one eyebrow raised.

slowly, connor walked over to the desk. "...what are you doing?"

"working a case." dick switched to a new tab rather suspiciously and crossed his arms over his chest. "what are you doing?"

"checking out suspicious noises." connor gestured to his ears. "your typing sounds like rats in the wall."

dick didn't say anything back, and connor just stared at him for an awkward amount of time. the absence of sound was penetrating.

"i don't blame you, y'know." connor placed a hand on dick's shoulder. "i thought i was indestructible too."

dick's hands shook. "i wasn't thinking clearly, i'm so sorry con-"

"it's over," connor cut him off. "we were kids trying to save the world. it's not your fault."

dick shook his head. "it should've been me," he whispered.

connor smacked him over the head. "i said it's over."

"ow."

"consider us even."

-

WAYNE MANOR
OCTOBER 29th — 23:13 EDT

dick had been listening to taylor swift for the past five hours. he only knew this much time had passed because he was nearly through his third full listen of speak now tv.

dick was hanging off his bed when i can see you (tv) began. with a dramatically loud sigh, he rolled off the bed and onto the floor, reaching for where his phone lay in the centre of the room.

23:15 | dick -> wally

dick: are u up

wally: yeah

dick chewed on his lip anxiously. he'd been ignoring wally for so long he had half-expected wally to just ignore his text message. he deserved that. he didn't deserve wally.

the ghosts of butterflies racked in dick's stomach. their bones rattled and shook and for the first time in a while dick felt alive. he felt the blood coursing through his veins and he felt the anticipation of a crush, of love, of life.

dick: i wish we were under the same sheets.

explosion, fireworks. heat from a fire, heat from another. blinding light—from a sunny day. a taste of death and a dependency to live. a desire. a promise.

-

at the sound of something hitting his window, dick looked over. from where he lay on top of his bed, he watched the window shake, then open.

a hand reached through, and in an impressing four seconds wally had swung himself into the room. he was wearing beige-coloured jacket and fingerless gloves.

"it's cold in new jersey!" wally huffed, pulling off the gloves and sticking them in his pocket. he closed the window with a dramatic shiver.

dick sat up cross-legged. "you could've come to the front door, y'know."

wally shot him a grin. "more fun to do it like old times."

he pulled off his coat, laying it on the back of dick's desk chair. soon they were sitting side-by-side, knees touching. wally ran his hand through dick's hair.

"i like it," he said. "shorter. it's more you."

dick kissed him.

wally kissed him back.

dick wrapped his hands around wally, pulling him closer, closer, closer until they were not two people but one grouping of stardust. they kissed like it was their first time, their last time, and every time in between.

stardust.

dick choked on a sob. hot tears ran down his cheeks, heavy and persistent. wally pulled away slowly, still holding dick close in his arms.

"dickie?"

his body wracked with sobs. tears ran down his cheeks, falling onto the light blue crewneck he wore and sporadically turning it a dark shade of blue, the colour of his eyes. "i'm sorry," he choked out. "i love you."

wally pressed a kiss to his forehead. "i love you."

"my fault," dick muttered. "my fault."

they kissed again. two people so intertwined, so full of love for eachother. so full of pain.

"it was my fault too."

"i'm sorry."

"i love you."

wally pulled dick into his arms, holding him tight against his chest. he was talking, but either he was speaking too fast or dick's brain was moving too slow because the only word he could catch was failsafe.

"i don't wanna lose you," dick sobbed. "i didn't wanna lose you. i never want to lose you-"

"you won't," wally cut him off. "you won't."

-

by the time dick had calmed down, wally's shirt was a mess of tears and snot. the only sound in the room was quiet sniffling. dick leaned against the headboard of his bed and wally sat cross-legged at the end of the bed, facing him.

"sorry for getting your shirt all gross." dick sniffled.

wally looked down as if seeing his shirt for the first time, an overdramatic shocked expression on his face. "this old thing? you like me better shirtless anyway."

dick laughed. a genuine, real, laugh.

wally pulled off his shirt, throwing it carelessly by his jacket. and that night, they both slept soundly.