I might take a break soon because I've got a 3000 word essay due for the end of November as part of my dissertation 

TW: SUICIDAL THEMES 

https://suicideprevention.ca/

https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

https://www.inclusivetherapists.com/

"You selfish bastard," Jason muttered. He, along with the rest of the Batfamily, had received a call urging them to meet in the Batcave. They weren't told the details but they were told they needed to be there because it was incredibly important. In their line of business, you didn't go into things blind without good reason and when Bruce was drawing you in blindly there was definitely a good reason for it. However, none of them could've guessed the important thing that required all of them was the return of their beloved Dick Grayson. He was covered in dirt, his hair a complete mess and his skin still had a ghoulish tone to it. Jason knew right off the bat what had happened in a way only he and Damian could know. He could see the slight green tinge of the Lazerous pit coursing through the acrobat's veins and it didn't take a genius to figure out who was the culprit behind giving him the shot of revival. He rushed forward to Dick and brought him into a tight hug. 

"I wasn't selfish. It simply wasn't his time," Damian insisted, unable to recognise any fault in his actions even after all he'd seen. He was like his dad in that way. 

"I'll deal with you later," the older replied. Dick had been almost limp in his arms, completely malleable in a hug he very much needed but in a way that made him seem still dead to the world. It would take a few days to adjust to everything let alone come to terms with all that had changed from a body returning to life. His joints would be sore, locking from time to time, he'd always be cold no matter how many blankets were wrapped around him nor the number of fires lit in the room and there would be a rotten taste to everything he ate no matter how fresh it was. Jason didn't know how he'd react to the incisions made by his autopsy, the scars left from the fall that crushed bones and incaved his skull. 

Admittedly, he'd been pissed off that Dick had taken his life because it was so preventable. Everyone knew the signs and everyone knew he was presenting the signs but they never said anything other than the surface-level shit you say to everyone who looks slightly down. Yet even he knew that you don't just bring people back because you feel guilty or because you can't come to terms with their absence in your life. Of course, he'd thought about bringing back Dick but he'd never actually do it because he knew better than to play God like that and coming back to life was fucking hard. It wasn't this joyous experience. It was traumatising and hard not to mention the Lazerous Pit had a way of messing with you. Damian clearly didn't understand despite his experience. Maybe he had a selective memory.

"I'm sorry," Dick whispered.

"Don't. We all let you down. Replacement, go tell Alfred he's back so he doesn't get a heart attack," he ordered. He kept an arm around the older as though he'd collapse without it and maybe he would. Coming back to life was tiring. He began to lead him towards the stairs but stopped when he felt a presence following them. "Damian, if you know what's good for you, you stay the fuck away from us." He couldn't even look at the kid. It only made his stomach churn at the lengths he went through to revive someone who didn't want to be revived. Dick would never want this even if he'd died differently yet here he was, a shaking hollow shell of the man he knew. 

"You can't keep him away from me after what I did. He's here because of me."

"Actually I can. You don't do this without at least telling someone else."

"You would've stopped me!" He shook his head.

"Yeah! Some of us don't like playing God. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy he's here and that I have my brother back but look at him. Trauma drove him to that rooftop and now you've just given him more."

"He's alive. That's what matters."

"Is it?" The conversation ended there.

That first night was rough. All Dick did was cry or go catatonic. He didn't move from where Jason helped him lay down for the most part aside from shifting to curl into a ball to sob. Surrounding him were the dusty remains of his bedroom that none had dared to enter for fear of somehow wiping away his memory. There were so many rooms in the manor that there was no reason to prevent his bedroom from becoming a sort of memorial and in hindsight it was a good idea although they never expected him to come back. Jason sat with him throughout the whole night, sending everyone away because as much as they meant well, they couldn't understand. This was a burden only he and Damian shared. His mind and body were still grappling with the fact that they had been restarted after being dead for so long. Sometimes his fingers would freeze up and Jason had to gently message them back into working. Sometimes he'd be hit with full-body shivers like he was going through a horrible flu and Jason would just have to pet his hair to help him through it. He didn't like how useful it made him feel to be one of the few that understood what Dick was going through. He hated how he felt like he was somehow making up for ignoring the signs that put Dick in the ground. People said not to blame themselves for what happened but that was just courtesy that you tell everyone even if it's not true. It wasn't like they did everything they could and Dick still died or that he just wasn't accepting the help or that they had no idea what was going on behind closed doors. They knew and did nothing. Everyone knew Dick was imploding and they all sat by watching the pressure build until he couldn't handle it anymore. If it wasn't affecting his work then he must be fine, right? What a joke. They were a joke. Eventually, Dick somehow managed to sleep but Jason couldn't. He sat there all night, continually petting the older's hair, and watched which he knew was creepy but he couldn't help it. He was alive.

In the following days, Dick didn't leave his room and apologised to anyone who entered. He didn't say what for but it didn't take a genius to connect the dots. They tried to get him to eat but he complained of the taste, asserting that everything tasted like it had been rotting or festering in the back of a cupboard no matter how fresh it looked. Jason said it would be like that for a while and he couldn't keep refusing to eat. He warned if he kept refusing they would take measures to make sure he was getting the calories. Tim did some research and found a handful of foods that didn't rot like honey and frozen fruits so logically they couldn't taste horrible. Something about seeing the acrobat force himself to eat that in his room by himself, unable to smell their meals without feeling sick to his stomach, just made it all the more depressing that he'd come back to life. They should be happy that he was back but it was so hard seeing the ghost of a man they once knew haunt the halls. 

In the month that followed they witnessed a rollercoaster of emotions from the acrobat.

Sometimes there'd be a tiny piece of the acrobat they once knew. He'd smile softly at Titus who'd nose at his hand when he stared at a wall for too long or he'd make a joke that sounded just like something he'd said before. That image of their brother gave them hope that things could go back to normal especially when he expressed interest in going to events that weren't until months later. He was excited for Damian's tennis tournament in the spring and he wanted to see a movie that wouldn't come out until the following year. Then that spark would be snuffed out and remind them that he wasn't the person he once was. They could try to breathe some life into the dying flame of passion but it was like trying to light a candle underwater. Once the flicker was drowned out there was no getting it back. 

Damian's attempts at getting that piece of life back into his brother were something even the hardest of villains would take pity upon witnessing. He'd show Dick various mission reports he missed that he'd been great at, and he'd show him all the tribute pieces he'd done. He'd force Dick to come on walks so he wasn't in his room all day and forego patrol in order to be there for his brother just in case. Although he still had that same exterior of pretending this was all a big hassle, there was such desperate softness in his acts and yet Dick wasn't responding to any of it. His old self would be gushing about how far the teen had come but now the best he could muster was looking vaguely interested if he simply wasn't in the right mood.

It was horrible, they knew it, but when they saw Dick mad it made them feel a little better. It was an emotion that would get him to talk and sure he'd punch a wall, scream at them for not doing anything when he was alive or he'd rip into Bruce for how he treated him but it was all something. He was less of a shell in those moments. They'd leave as soon as they came and he'd say sorry for it bringing it up. He'd assure them it wasn't their fault he died, that he just wanted to know why no one helped. They could never give him a satisfactory answer and eventually he'd just sigh and shrug it off. It was clear the outbursts had been building up for a long time since he was bringing up things from long before any of his siblings were in the picture and on occasion the topics brought up would give them pits at the bottom of their stomachs. When Dick mentioned his fake death and how he was forced to do it, none of them even wanted to look at Bruce let alone work with him. Then they'd see him with his eldest, an arm around his shoulder as he cried because he was never comfortable these days, and they'd understand why Dick would never bring this up. He wanted a family and he was making do with what he had no matter how toxic it would be which would stop them from wondering why he'd never brought this facts up before he died. 

Then one day early in the morning, Dick just snaps. Like a fuse got tripped in his brain and now the only thing he could focus on was the one thing that he'd done in the past to escape the bad situations he often found himself in. Run. He didn't even bring anything with him. He wore sweatpants, a hoodie and running shoes that were all various shades of black. He didn't think to pack a bag to bring with him or bring the phone Bruce gave him. All he had was the clothes on his back and the five dollars he'd found in the sweatpants. His hair was a mess of unkempt curls and he looked like he'd been dragged through a bush backwards but that didn't stop him from racing out the door as though he'd just accidentally given Damian non-vegetarian sweets. 

No one knew he was even gone until Damian came home and went straight to his room to see how he'd been. The teen wasn't particularly happy that he was being forced to go to school when his newly resurrected big brother was right there but he'd done it anyway, silently hoping it would bring some normalcy. Apparently, it hadn't because he found Dick's room empty and immediately got sent into a panic about where he could've gone. They searched for him for hours, occasionally catching him on CCTV but quickly losing him within the dense Gotham crowds. His outfit was so mundane that he blended in and he weaved through crowds faster than CCTV could capture an accurate picture of his face. They weren't sure where he was going or if he knew he was evading surveillance or why he was even running in the first place. He couldn't have thought that his apartment was still waiting for him and they weren't aware of anyone meeting up with him. They'd been understanding that he needed time to adjust to being alive again and even if they couldn't wait, they'd see him at the manor. 

Jason was the one to remind them what Dick did when he felt cornered and uneasy but that only left them with more questions. 

"But where could he be running to?" Tim asked. The older grew uncomfortable at the question but pushed past that to answer. He could feel it now, all the things that Dick was going through and being completely unable to fully comprehend it all. It didn't matter how much help was available because some things were just not meant to happen. Coming back to life after being dead for so long was one of those things no matter how happy everyone was that it'd happened and no matter how much progress he made. 

"I don't think he knows," he admitted, tapping into his own time post-ressurection. "He just knows he has to run to somewhere he feels better. Right now, that place doesn't exist. It's like when I came back. Logically I could've come home but I was so blinded by seeing Joker alive it didn't feel like home."

"So he's just running until that feeling stops," Damian concluded. "Why would Grayson not say anything?"

"Oh, you mean the guy who threw himself off a building but staged it to look like a murder? You're asking why he wouldn't say anything?"

"Don't be a dick," Tim snapped. Sure the gremlin of a brother he had was the bane of his existence but bringing up Dick's death was a low blow. The kid was torn up about it, so torn up he couldn't live in a world without his big brother there. God knows what would've happened had he not thought to use the Lazurous Pit. 

"I'll call in some help. He could be anywhere and I don't want him alone for as long as he has been. Especially if he's not in the right frame of mind," Bruce announced. He must be worried if he was allowing other people to get involved in family business. "Get what evidence you can then suit up and head out. We need to get him home."

Dick wasn't sure how long he'd been running. He figured he'd been mostly running in a straight line for the most part although he might've gotten turned around a couple of times if his path was obstructed. He wasn't sure where he was heading but he was going and that made him feel better. Suddenly something was stood there in front of him, preventing him from running any further and breaking him out of his blind need to just go as he let out a yelp before toppling back from the recoil. Hands shot out to steady him and when he looked to find their owner, he found Clark all decked out in his Superman suit. The older felt like a brick wall, sturdy and strong. A bold slap to the face or a dunk into freezing cold waters. It was then that Dick realised he wasn't in Gotham anymore. There was grass beneath his feet but no smog invading his lungs or sound of cars rushing by. Where the hell was he? He looked to the sky and found it was dark. He was sure the sun was just coming up when he left. Had he been running all day? His eyes began to water as he just leaned against the superhero as though he'd fall apart at any moment. Dick didn't put his arms around him or even look Clark in the eye instead he simply stood there with his forehead resting on his chest and his teary eyes directed to the floor. 

"You're a long way from home," Clark stated. 

"I don't know where I am." 

And just like that, he's nine again and he's lost Bruce in the halls of the Watchtower. He doesn't remember running off or what distracted him but he's this kid all alone without someone to help. Superman appears out of nowhere and helps. He's doing it again and Dick can't say how thankful he is that someone is there who feels much more stable than he is but also vulnerable enough to feel like someone to talk to. 

"You've ran into the woods. You must've been going some to end up here after a day's running," the older explained. Dick doesn't know why but he feels in his pocket for the five dollars he thought he had but finds it empty. 

"I think I drove?" he answered but it was more of question. "No more five dollars."

"Well, I think it's time we get you home. You've obviously had a big day."

"I don't have a home," he said before he could stop himself and instead of pausing to somehow play it off, he just continues. "I mean, I have a house but it's not home. I don't feel safe there. I'm-I'm not happy." 

"Why don't we get you back to the manor and talk about this with your family? You've given them a bit of a fright disappearing like you did-"

"Haven't I given enough?" he asked quietly before finally letting the tears fall. "Haven't I given them everything I had left?"

"You and I both know there's never enough to give. Not when we are the way that we are. We'd both do anything for those we love and in the end it's often not enough," Clark answered. If Bruce had said it, the younger would've been crushed under the weight of inadequacy but this was Clark. Everything he said, even if it was depressing in any other context, held that tiny piece of hope. Then Dick was sobbing. His legs had finally given out and he would've dropped to the floor if the alien hadn't cradled him in a tight hug. "You're going to be okay."

"How? I'm so tired and it feels like nothing will ever be the same again."

"The same way Damian and Jason are okay now." He shook his head and pulled away, only just about managing to stand on his aching legs. How far had he ran? Too far for too long. He had no idea where he was. One minute he was standing in his bedroom the next he was standing in the middle of nowhere with Clark trying to help him but help was there left?

"They didn't want to die!" he cried. Anger bubbled up inside of him and sure it wasn't Clark's fault but he was the only one around. He'd regret it later but he was too tired and frustrated. "They would've never chosen to die. God, they were just kids when they were killed. No, I chose this. I chose to die and I was brought back and people are just expecting me to somehow treat this like another chance well I never wanted another chance! If I wanted that, I wouldn't have planned my death the way I did."

"You didn't want to die either, not really. You were exhausted with no options. You wanted to rest and you never had the chance to." Rest sounded a lot like dying in his mind. He turned away, wiping his eyes and running a hand through his hair. It was almost laughable how helpless he felt. He had to chuckle no matter how dead in the air it came out. "People like us can never tell when enough is enough and when it's time for us. Especially when in the times that we are selfish, bad things happen."

"Then what's the point, Clark? Look me in the eye right now and give me a reason why any of this is worth the energy because I'm flat out of ideas right now. I gave my whole life to the hero gig and all it ever gave me was trauma. I gave everything to my family and all that taught me is I will never be enough. Why wasn't my swan dive my finale? Why am I back just to be miserable again?" He glared at the older, daring him to offer hope.

"Damian hasn't finished high school. Tim's still in the early stages with Bernard. Jason is working through his trauma. Barbara is becoming a sort of mentor to Steph and Cass. Duke's got a date next week." Dick sighed and felt a firm hand on his shoulder. "You've got people growing up around you and you've got to be there to witness it. You've missed enough."

"What about when something happens to them hm? What then?"

"You'll never be alone. You never have been. For as bad as things have been, you've always had at least one person and you always will."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You're Nightwing but more importantly you're Dick Grayson." How Clark made that sound like the best reply in the world, he'd never know. "I've seen you grow into something special. Something I don't think I've ever seen before. Give people the honour of seeing it too."

"And when that's not enough?"

"Then they never deserved to see it."

"Did I really scare them?"

"They called in everyone."

"Then I better get home."

"Hey," Dick greeted quietly. Damian glanced up from his work and smiled softly. The acrobat was looking much better nowadays. Still not the man he was, the scars made it obvious, but he was the best he could be. Just as Damian could never be the boy who he was before he was killed. They'd learned to bond over that together and he liked to think it made them that much closer. 

"Can I help you?"

"Is that important?" he asked, pointing to the papers. 

"Uh, no?"

"Oh cool." Then, for God knows what reason, Damian was hit in the face by a water balloon. He spluttered and covered his face a few moments to late as his brother almost doubled over laughing.

"You did not just do that."

"I did indeed just do that," Dick replied mischievously. 

"I'm giving you a minute to-" he was cut off by another water balloon. "That's it!" He got up and chased after the cackling acrobat who was now running full force down the hallway. "I'll get you, Grayson!"

"Yeah right!"