luxuriousmisery wanted this so blame them for any sadness

EDIT: TW MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH//BLOOD

Nightwing was fucked. He knew he was fucked. How could he not know he was fucked? He didn't think this would be how it went but then again, he never spent much time on how he would kick the bucket. It always was something a villain did. They wanted him dead so it seemed fitting that's how he'd go. This ending felt fitting in some way. He just wished his former mentor wasn't right there seeing it. 

The pair had been working on a case together. Nightwing was insistent this would be the last time he'd do something like this since he was getting too old to deal with such a stubborn man when he could handle things on his own. He'd only joined the case because it was bleeding into his city. They were dealing with a gang connected to Bane and both were well prepared to meet the brute. Batman made the plan and didn't listen to any suggestions his former protege made which wasn't anything unusual. He took the lead as he always did. He made the calls as he always did. He made the signals. Nightwing found him insufferable the entire time. 

They were fighting when it happened. They'd been so sucked into their disagreement that Bane took his chance to make his escape. He picked up a rock and whilst Nightwing had paused to say something, he threw it. The rock was massive and heavier than a car, more of a boulder than anything. It was half the size of Nightwing so when it hit him, it hit him hard. He was thrown off his feet and pinned against a wall. A scream left his lips as his whole torso was crushed under the weight. Bane watched Batman immediately stop what he was doing and laughed when he saw the desperate look on his face. The criminal knew what he did. He'd done it before. He knew the ending and he couldn't wait to tell the story to anyone who'd listen. After years of meddling in matters that didn't concern him, Nightwing was going to get his just deserts. At least, to the criminal underworld he was. As Batman ran to help, he made his escape. He wished to stick around and watch but he had places to be. His imagination would have to fill in the blanks. 

Nightwing wheezed as he tried to breathe through the pain. He couldn't move. That was his first sign this was bad. Still, it wasn't until his mind immediately flashed to a crime scene he was called to as police officer. A woman had been hit by a car. The driver hadn't meant to hit her and had swerved off the road thanks to the snow. The woman was conscious, speaking as though this wasn't happening and not complaining of any intense pain. He wondered why no one was rushing to get the car moved. He was told that the pressure of the car was pretty much the only thing keeping her alive. Once that pressure was relieved, she'd die. She was dying as they spoke. Someone was trying to get a hold of her family. He remembered sitting there, speaking with her. She knew what was coming, he could see it, but she still talked to him. She had two sons. One as old as himself, the other as old as Damian. They were good kids and she talked about how they were currently in Canada. They were visiting their dad. No one came because no one could. The most they could do was get them on the phone. She died before she could say much though. It was upon remembering this that Nightwing checked himself. The pain was there but he realised it wasn't as bad as it should be. The rock was just jabbing into his pecs but beyond that, it felt cold? Maybe numb. He shifted a little and saw the blood pooling. That was too much blood. A feeling swept through him. A chill of sorts. It was his body giving him the heads up. Sign number two. Then he looked up to see Batman running towards him. His final sign. The other had given up bagging a criminal. He'd become so bitter and stubborn over the years that it had to take something really bad for him to give up the fight. Nightwing teared up. He was fucked.

Batman was by his side soon enough and his eyes scanned over the rock, examining every way he could go about this but they both knew there wasn't anything they could do. He'd seen the state his ward was in. He could get a better look than Nightwing could so he was just confirming what the other already knew. They shared a brief look and that's all either needed to know they were thinking the same thing. Only Batman didn't want to accept it. "Hold still, I'll get you out. I'll call in and get you help," he insisted. He got out his communicator but paused. Who should he call? 

"B," Nightwing said quietly. He wore a sad smile. It was a beg for the other to just accept the situation as it was. He didn't want to waste his last moments trying and inevitably failing to solve a problem that was already determined. There was no way of lucking out. He wasn't going to be paralyzed, he wasn't going to miraculously recover, he was going to die.

"Superman will be available. He'll have the strength to move this without hurting you too much," Batman stated, ignoring his ward's plea. "It'll be half an hour, just try to stay awake."

"Bruce c'mon," the younger mumbled. He reached out and managed to get the communicator. He turned it off and gave it back. "This is it B."

"No, it's not. We just need to move this and-"

"For once can you not fight me on something? Please, I don't wanna waste my time," he whimpered. Batman nodded and reluctantly put away the device. He looked around, scowering the walls for cameras before finding there were none. Upon finding this, he pulled down his cowl. The white lenses covering his eyes weren't what he wanted his son to see. Besides, Batman wasn't losing a son. Bruce was and he deserved to see his son one last time. Nightwing smirked and took off his own mask. Neither of them wanted to be heroes right now. They wanted to be people. 

"Alright, son. No more fighting."

"Thank you."

They had minutes left. There was no one coming to save Dick. He had to make use of this time but he didn't really know what he wanted to say. It's not like he practised his final words. He'd thought about his death but never thought about what he'd say before it. That seemed rather silly in retrospect. He'd have to just go with what felt right and right now he was feeling guilty. If he'd been more forceful with changing the plan or never tagged along in the first place, this wouldn't happen. He wouldn't be watching his father figure trying to hide how upset he was. Bruce pushed some of his hair out of his eyes in an attempt to make him more comfortable, letting his hands glide through the acrobat's black locks. "Sorry Bruce," he croaked pathetically.

"Don't speak if you're going to apologize chum. There's nothing you could've done better." 

"Are you proud of me? Even if I did get beat with a rock?" he asked softly. 

"Of course, I'm proud of you and-and I'm sorry it took until now for you to hear that," Bruce told him. "Do you think you can hold on whilst I call Damian? He might be able to make it in time."

"We both know he won't. Can you do something for me though?"

"Anything."

"Can you record my voice? I need to say some things. Calling would be too much of a hassle," he replied with a smile. He couldn't do this without keeping some of his humour. Bruce nodded and pulled out his voice recorder. He turned it on and placed it near the younger so it would pick up his voice perfectly. The last thing they needed was for his message to become muffled by noise pollution. "Hey, guys I suppose you know what's up. I'm dying. You've tried it, and it looked rather tempting, so I thought I'd get a go. Not fun, I can't see why you've tried it," Dick joked. He watched his mentor frown at him. Another son is dead with no guarantee of coming back this time. "Though with our history, you might see me again in a few years." He coughed wetly and small flecks of red splattered onto the rock pinning him. Bruce shushed him gently and continued to run his hand through his hair. "Better make this quick. I've not got much stuff for you to take but you can have what you like. Suppose I should get into specific messages huh?"

"Save your energy chum. Take your time."

"I've not got much time to take."

Upon saying that, Dick began his messages. "So to Alfie, you gotta look after these idiots like you always have but you gotta be especially on it now. You know what B is like." He laughed to himself, thinking about when he was a boy. The butler would sneak him sweets and always have his back but he knew when to put his foot down. That man had a glare that could kill the strongest of people and Dick always loved him for it. He was like a grandad in the best of ways and it pained him to know that Alfred would see him buried. He'd gone through enough in his life. 

"To Jason, let me feed my ego and think you'll try to kill Bane to which I say don't. Use your energy on something else. Maybe gardening. Whatever it is, keep safe Lil Wing," he continued. Ah, Jason. His little trouble making brother. His first replacement so to speak but he wasn't a replacement now that he was old enough to see it. He was simply picking up the torch Bruce had handed to him. Gotham needed a Robin. Bruce needed a Robin. Despite his very obvious changes, Jason was still his Lil Wing. He always would be. He did wonder what type of revenge would befall Bane and who would be the one to deliver it. That question would have to go unanswered.

"To Cass, sorry this is so soon. You take good care of my family, I know you'll fill in for my role as the badass sibling. That goes for you too Steph and yes you can have my Xbox as long as you look after yourself," he cackled. His sisters would do right by him. They were smart and would be worthy title holders of the badass siblings. He could trust them to do right by him. They were the best after all.

"To Tim, sleep. Do it. I know you want to spend your life-solving crime but you gotta sleep dude. Pretty sure your growth is already stunted from your coffee intake so like maybe cut down on that," he joked. Oh, Tim. The poor kid. He really was stuck in the middle of things during his time as Robin but he seemed to be doing better now with Red Robin. Maybe he'd take over Batman completely but be his own version. If he were sticking with the red theme then he'd be Red Batman or Red Bat. He wished he could see it.

"Damian, my little gremlin, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry for doing this to you again. I'm sorry for doing this to all of you." He bit his lip trying to keep the tears from falling but what was the point. He was dying. It wasn't like he'd be embarrassed about it later. He'd be dead. If he was a ghost then it wouldn't really matter either because he'd never hear anyone talking about how he cried because he'd be on an island in the middle of nowhere. He sniffled a little as tears began to roll down his cheeks. "I don't know what's next and I won't lie, I'm scared. Now I won't be here to make sure you're all okay and God the fact I have to leave you so soon is terrifying. I wanted to see you grow up Dami but I suppose I'll just have to accept that's not happening." His breath was getting harsher and he tried to even it out so he could get out what he wanted to say. He needed them to know how he felt. "I love you guys. I'm proud of all of you. Play Britney at the funeral." 

He looked to Bruce to turn off the recording which he did quickly. He pocketed the recorder and wiped off some of the tears falling on his son's face. "Dad. I'm scared."

"I know chum but it'll all be okay. I'm right here and I won't be going anywhere okay? Just stay awake whilst I say this for me," Bruce told him. "I know I've been awful to you. You've put up with so much of my bullshit and I made you run away I was that bad but I hope you know I've loved you like you were my own. You're my son. I need you to know you've always been my son."

"Of course," he gasped. Why was it getting harder to breathe? He could hardly form a sentence now. Dick felt his eyes begin to droop as he got an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. He leaned into Bruce's hand more as his breathing slowed. Everything slowly became fuzzy as he almost forgot where he was. For some reason, the thought about when he was a kid. He'd get so tired on patrol sometimes that he could hardly stay awake on the journey back. He'd always wake up in his bed though. Somehow. Maybe if he fell asleep now then he could wake up in his nice warm bed. "'M tired."

"Dickie, please. Stay awake. Please."

"But B 'm tired. Can I jus' go sleep?" he asked. Bruce's bottom lip trembled as he blinked away the tears. What was the point in prolonging the inevitable? Nothing was going to change. Death was knocking on the door and Dick had no choice but to let him in. Bruce had to say goodbye whilst he could. He took a deep breath as he tried to summon the courage to sound as normal as possible but it was killing him inside to see his boy go. Dick had been so small when he was a kid that he couldn't help but think of him like that now. His little boy fighting crime and saying how he was going to protect him from all the bad guys even though he was tiny. 

"Okay, chum. You get some sleep."

"Tomorrow can we get ice cream?" Dick asked with a lopsided smile.

"Of course. We'll do whatever you want," he answered. He kissed him on the forehead as his eyes slowly closed. He continued to run his hands through his hair until he noticed that Dick wasn't breathing. "I'm sorry Dickie," he whispered, his voice echoing through the empty building. Just him and his son. A grieving father forced to watch his son pass on. "Please, please be like the others and come back to me. Please."