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Old Comforts|| Dick and Barbara (Chatzy)

Barbara 's sensors detected him before she heard him knock through the speakers. Which was really just another sign in a long list of worrying things that she'd picked up on since Dick had started talking to her again. Not that Barbara herself was much better, but she hadn't lost track of time in hours, and was averaging at twenty four breaths per minute, which was only slightly above regular breathing. At first, Barbara had planned on speaking into her mic and telling him to come up, but now, examining him on the feed, he looked too lost to ask that. So instead she came down to him. When she opened the door Barbara realised he was much worse off close up. He was mumbling an apology, but all she could see was a lost young boy, as if Dick had literally shrunk during his task. Barbara pulled him in for a hug, trying to pay attention to any flinching, to see whether her touch hurt. After a moment, he hugged her back, and she sighed in relief that he hadn't forgotten that that was okay. "Come inside, Dick, it's warmer in here."

Dick wanted to keep holding on to Babs, because with her arms around him he felt safe and warm. She ushered him inside and he followed her in, glancing around the room. It felt to him like something he'd seen in a dream once-- somewhere he didn't quite remember, but he knew. Something vaguely familiar because he'd seen it once or twice. He shuffled. He knew he should know exactly what this place was, he should feel excited to be here-- but it felt just like the manor. Old, but new. The same, but different. He looked at Babs. "I didn't mean to-- sorry I didn't," he paused, his brain churning as hard as it could to come up with the right words. "I was just on a walk and then I ended up here. I don't remem--" he stopped himself. "I would have let you know," If I could have remembered.

Barbara followed his eyes around the room, watching them grow wide like a child's in a new place. "It's okay," she reassured him, even though it was a lie, even though none of them were okay in the slightest. Her hands held tight to her wheels when she wasn't comforting him so that he wouldn't see the trembling. If she'd known he was coming Barbara would have put on make up to hide her reddish eyes and the dark circles that hung below them, to add colour to her cheeks. Her face was almost as pale as his. "It happens, and you're always welcome here. Always." She paused, folding her hands together tightly. "Do you want to go to a less busy room? I know there's a lot of things here, it can get overwhelming."

Dick's eyes fell on Babs, the only thing in the room that he felt comfortable with. And even then, it was a long stretch. There were things about her that he couldn't quite remember. That he'd forgotten? No, he hated thinking of it that way. Forgotten meant they were gone, and he needed to believe that one day he'd remember everything that had temporarily left. He just nodded slowly. "Wherev-- uurgh," he groaned a little, grabbing his head. It felt fuzzy again. Words were becoming harder to say, harder to put together coherently. "Whatever's best," he finished quietly. She looked tired and pale and he wanted to sit down and comfort her, but he knew anything that he could offer right now wasn't enough. He knew it would never be enough until it came back to him. Until he remembered. Still, he wanted to try. She meant something to him that so far no one else did. She made his heart feel lighter and his legs feel tingly. "I, um..." he tried to start, but the words left his mouth almost as soon as they got there. "Um, yeah. Let's...yeah."

Barbara moved forward slightly as he groaned, hand reached out. She retracted it slowly as he found the rest of his sentence. And that was exactly what it looked like too, like he lost his words. The boy who was always talking, always cracking jokes, struggling through each syllable. Barbara didn't know who had done this, but a very real part of her wanted the Game Master dead. For all their sakes. Just being around Dick meant Barbara's heart had picked up a beat, and not in a good way. More of an anxiety thing. There wasn't a safe place for her anymore, the Game Master had destroyed that, but there was room that felt safer. "Come, and you can sit down." She took his hand in her own, leading him through her home. "Here." She pushed open the door to her bedroom. It still had a gentle scent of vanilla in it, one that she couldn't mistake for the smell of blood or the smell of gunpowder. "Lights at fourty percent," she instructed, before gently pulling Dick onto the bed. "Do you want something to drink?" Barbara asked quietly, still holding his hand. It was an anchor to the present, and while that minute wasn't too bad, there was no guarantee what her brain would do in the next.

He knew there was something wrong with her, something wrong here. Dick felt his heart twisting as he reached out for him, then pulled away. Not only had he been taken from himself, he had been taken from her. He was clearly something very important to Babs, and it made him angrier and angrier that he couldn't remember what. She lead him to another room, her bedroom, and sat him down on the bed. Her hand remained attached to his the whole time and he tightened his grip a little once he was sitting. If he said he wanted something to drink, she would probably leave. If even for a bit. He didn't want that. "N-no," he said. "I'm fine. I'm not-- no. I'm fine," he said, blinking heavily. Where was he again? Barbara's. The-- the...Clocktower! Where Babs lives. He stared at her for a long time without realizing it. "I'm sorry if this-- if this is awkward, or," he started. "I can... I don't have to stay."

Barbara squeezed back when he tightened his grip on her hand, trying to give him a small smile. The door she'd forgotten to close behind them clicked shut, and Barbara startled a little, trying to hide how bad she really was from someone who was in no state to comfort her. He was staring at her now, and Barbara was almost afraid to move, as if moving would blur his image of her even worse. Babs hesitated as Dick spoke again. There was a part of her that needed to be alone. And there was a part of her that couldn't turn Dick away right now, not when he had brain damage and seemed to need her more than she needed him. And there was a part of her that selfishly wanted the company. "I want you to stay," she replied, "and I'm going to need my hand back for a second," she added as she let go of Dick's hand. As soon as Barbara's hand was free, she carefully lifted her feet onto the floor, careful not to break the scabbing on her left knee. Tomorrow the bandage had to go, she had to let it breathe so that it could heal. Which would involve looking at it, looking at the place where the Joker Cisco had shot her. A trigger on her body. Barbara shook that thought away, putting one hand on the bed next to Dick and the other on her arm rest. One quick lift and she was sitting next to her closest friend. Not that this put her any less at a loss of how to help him, but the proximity helped her, at least. If it made things harder for him then Barbara would transfer back. "What do you want?" she asked, taking his hand back in both of hers. "I'll give you some options. You can stay sitting or lie down. We can do nothing and be quiet. You can talk, or I can talk to you about things. I could turn on some gentle music. I have a stress ball that you could hold in your hands." Babs stopped, realizing she was rambling. Too many options could overwhelm him. "Or something else."

Everything was becoming more difficult to do-- to process. Dick shivered a little when Babs took her hand away, but without a moment's hesitation, she had lifted herself and was sitting next to him. He wished he could help her, he wished he could remember why her eyes were so sunken and her face so pale, and her hands so unsteady. Holding things had become difficult for him, and he shook slightly under her touch. She started listing off things for him to do. Did he want to sit or lie down? He didn't know. Talk or be quiet? He didn't know. Turn on music? Hold a stress ball? Listen to her talk? He didn't know, he didn't know, he didn't know! He jerked away slightly, not meaning to, shaking the whole bed. "I don't-- I don't know," he said. "I don't know. I just... it's not like I-- m-meant to come here. I'm sorry, I shouldn't-- clearly you--" the more he tried to talk, the more jumbled words were becoming. He grabbed his head, groaning again. It hurt to think too much. His skin felt tingly, like needles were pricking him. Like he was being shocked again. He jerked once more, more of a twitch, folding in on himself. He saw the pain in her eyes, the pain she was holding and the pain he was causing her. "No, no," he said, shaking his head. "No, it's-- Babs, no," he repeated. "You said not-- I shouldn't say-- But I am." His words were broken, being left unsaid in his mouth, but complete in his head. As if his brain weren't communicating correctly with his words. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry what h-happened to you. I'm sorry I can't-- I don't remember. I'm sorry," he muttered, leaving over and hugging her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder. "I'm s-sorry."

Barbara flinched when he jerked away, realising she'd gone too far. It was hard, not knowing what to do, and clearly she'd done the wrong thing. So she'd learn. Too many options meant bad. She bit her cheek as he reacted, her free hand curled into a fist that was hidden from him. Her mind was slipping, so Barbara bit her tongue to keep herself in the present, to keep herself with him. She'd been in the Sacred Heart, she knew how fast two sick people could bring eachother down, but that wasn't her and Dick, she wouldn't let that be them. I don't remember, he said, and it was like a punch to her chest. Because Babs couldn't forget. Even now, a white face and bright green hair hung out in the peripherals of her vision, not there when she looked, but always taunting her. She hugged him tight back, stroking patterns onto his back and arms. "It's okay," she murmured in his ears, over and over, letting him shake. Dick wasn't the only one trembling, but together they were more or less steadyish. They stayed like that for a moment, drawing comfort from eachother. "You're my longest and closest friend, Dick, you don't need to apologize for coming here. I'm staying right here, I've got you. I've got you."

Dick wasn't sure how much time passed before he looked up again. Time was something that was beyond his capabilities right now, but in this moment, he felt it didn't matter. It wasn't needed. He was her longest and closest friend, and she repeated those words to him sever times. She would stay and he would stay, and they would be there for each other. Together. That feeling was in his chest again-- the good tightness. The kind that made him feel light and heavy all at the same time. The one that made him feel like his memory loss was going to be okay. After what could have only been a long moment, he finally looked back up at her, his eyes puffy and red from holding back tears, her nearly the same. "I love you," he said quietly. He wasn't sure of a lot of things right now, of anything, really, but he was sure of that one fact. He didn't amend the statement, didn't say anything more, in case it wasn't what she wanted to hear. In case that was too much right now. But he was lost and confused and unsure of everything, he needed to say the one thing out loud that he was sure of. And that was that he loved the woman sitting next to him, holding him.

Barbara estimated they stayed like that for maybe half an hour. Give or take an hour. Her mind kept slipping, either into the soul crushing numbness of dissociation or the all consuming certainty that there was someone else in the room with them, just outside of her line of sight. Someone with metal murder in their hands and a grin on their blood red lips. But holding them together meant they could be a comfort for one another again. It couldn't last indefinitely, Barbara knew, but for now it was good enough. She felt him move, and looked up to meet his eyes. At first, the words that left his mouth didn't fit, and she froze, trying to process them. Barely a moment later, trying to hide her surprise, Babs smiled sadly, running her fingers through his hair, careful for the bruising around his head. They'd said it before, but now, both vulnerable, it felt different. "I love you too," she replied softly, but couldn't let it mean more than it always had. She was barely holding the threads of herself together, and he had brain damage. They were trapped in a game where the statistical odds of them both surviving wasn't high, especially not with the conversation she needed to have with the boys tomorrow. Her eyes started stinging again and Barbara pulled him close again, resting her chin on his shoulder.

Dick wasn't sure what it meant, but his heart was beating so quickly. The time that had passed felt like nothing to him, but he wondered if she calculated it. Babs always knew. She didn't respond to him right away-- there was surprise on her face. Or...at least that's what it looked like. He was usually so good at reading expressions, had that been taken from him, too? He wanted to cry. Her fingers brushed the side of his face, careful to avoid the bruises on his head. He'd forgotten they were there until they pounded dully again. He winced but didn't move away from her. He enjoyed her touch. The words were repeated back to him, but they weren't the same. She meant family. He'd looked at the photo a million times since Bruce had left it for him, and his eyes had always stopped on her figure. Barbara Gordon. Barbara Gordon. Richard Grayson, Barbara Gordon. They weren't related, but they were family. "Okay," he said quietly as her chin rested on his shoulder. He reached up and traced circles on her back. She needed comfort, too, and he wanted so badly to give it to her. "Okay," he repeated, his mind forgetting he'd already said the word aloud once. "Okay."

Barbara felt his hands on her back, and for a moment the tension in her body eased slightly, and she just let herself breathe him in, her own hands stroking up to the nape of his neck and back down again. Earlier, her mind had told her that Damian's kiss wasn't him at all, so Barbara kept her eyes open, forcing herself to remember that this was Dick and no one else. "It will be," she replied to his repeated okays, feeling her eyes prickling, and a lump in her throat that she hadn't noticed before. After a while, Barbara pulled away again, looking into his eyes even though the eye contact was hard. "So we can keep doing this, and because you need to rest we should probably try lying down, but I'm thirsty, so I'm going to grab something to drink first. Do you want something?" Carefully disentangling herself from his arms, Babs reached for her wheelchair and lifted herself back in it.

Dick wasn't ready to let go, but Barbara was pulling away and he had to let her. Water, right. His eyes searched for a clock, but he couldn't find one-- his mind couldn't put two and two together and the analog clock on her wall read like a foreign language. Blinking, he looked back at her, trying to concentrate, almost forgetting she was waiting for a reply. "Water, right," he repeated quietly. "Water is good, okay. Good," he said, nodding his head slowly. It hurt to move it too much, so he stopped, watching her pull herself back into her chair. He'd seen her do it a million times, and each memory tried to push itself back into his brain at that very moment. He held onto himself just long enough to see Babs' chair disappear down the hallway before the headache became too much and he curled over, falling onto his side on the bed. Time once again slipped away, but he made sure that by the time she came back, he was sitting up again, staring blankly at the floor. His mind had disconnected without an anchor to hold onto. The picture Bruce had given him was lose in his hands. Barbara Gordon. Richard Grayson. Jason Todd. Tim Drake. Damian Al Ghul Wayne. Cassandra Cain. Stephanie Brown. Barbara Gordon. Barbara Gordon. His closest and oldest friend, Barbara Gordon.

Barbara nodded, giving his hand a quick squeeze before leaving him. His sentences were growing more disjointed, more lost, and it was painful to see the guy who was usually so charismatic and quick to make jokes so shaken and lost as he was. As soon as she rolled into the Kitchen, Barbara pushed her hands hard against the fridge door, until some of the anger and frustration at her helplessness had dissipated. Taking a few deep breaths, she grabbed two glasses and filled them with cold water. Holding both glasses in one hand, she rolled back to her bedroom. Dick looked distant now, a thousand mile stare boring into the ground. "Hey, I'm back," she told him quietly, in an attempt not to startle him. When he looked up, she handed him his glass, taking a deep sip of her own.

Dick almost lurched when Babs' voice cut through the room. But he had been expecting her back, and he had tried to remind himself not lose sight of things. It was getting harder and harder as the day went on, and the more tired he became. He glanced once again at the clock in her room, but it still made little sense. His brain couldn't quite put together the information he needed to read the damn thing. Frustrated, he reached out for the glass she was handing him-- in his mind, his fingers wrapped around the cup perfectly. But his body didn't seem to comply. Instead, his unsteady and shaking hand let the glass slip perfectly through his fingers, as if he had not tried at all. "Shit!" he grunted, jerking away as the glass fell and shattered on the ground, water spraying both of them. He stared, dumbfounded for a quick moment before shooting up from the bed and pacing away from Babs, running his hands through his hair. He was shaking uncontrollably now. "Shit, I'm so-- dammit!" he breathed, pressing his hands up against the wall. Don't get angry. He looked back at Babs, who was staring at him. "I'm sorry, I'll-- I'll clean it. I don't know what ha--." he had to take a deep breath. "Happened."

Barbara saw what happened before the glass shattered, so the smash wasn't a complete surprise, but it was enough to get her heart racing. The water splashed up her legs but apart from that Barbara was unscathed. Putting her glass down on a bedside table, she kept her eyes on Dick. "Hey, hey! It's no big deal. It's just a glass of water." Except it was a big deal, oth of them knew. Your mind or your body failing you was the worst feeling, it was terrifying and frustrating, and she understood. "Dick, it's going to be okay," Barbara said more calmly, "It happens. We'll clean it up. There's a dust pan and brush in that cupboard over there. Is that okay for you?"

Dick tried to breath in deeply. He hated that he couldn't do anything for himself, and he hated that people kept looking at him like that. With those big, sad eyes. They walked on eggshells around him, and while he appreciated it, he also hated it. He hated that he'd become this delicate object that needed to be watched after and taken care of. The Game Master had taken something from him he wasn't sure he'd ever get back. He might as well have just taken his life, instead of leaving him to suffer like this. Dick's hand curled into a fist. "Yeah," he muttered, shakily heading over to where Babs had said the dust pan was. He stopped and opened the cupboard, stared inside it. What was he getting again? He blinked, trying to focus, but the thought had slipped from him and it wasn't coming back. He stood there, slightly ashamed, of the fact that he couldn't remember. He looked back over at Babs, saw her picking up discarded pieces of the cup. Right! The dust pan. He grabbed the two things and headed back over to her, leaning down and holding out the pan, trying to scrape up the pieces. "It's not..." he mumbled. She looked at him questioningly. "Okay. It's not...I'll never be--" his shoulders drooped. "I'll never be me again, will I?"

Barbara carefully gathered the larger pieces of broken glass into a visible heap, outside of the puddle of water. She was acutely aware of how long it took for Dick to return, but she knew as soon as he did. His hands and arms were shaking, struggling to scrape up the pieces that she hadn't gotten to yet. When he started speaking, Babs looked up at him, waiting patiently for the words to come. When he spoke, her lips wobbled. She knew that question. How often had she asked herself it? How often had she cursed the answer that she'd given herself. "Dick, you are always you. People are constantly changing, but they don't stop being them." Barbara hesitated, putting her hand on his. "But I know what you mean. And it's not a simple answer. You will heal. The shaking will decrease, memories will return. Maybe not all, but some. There'll be hard days, and harder ones." Barbara had done too much research when Tim had been hit, and while she hadn't done much since Dick had been tortured, the facts sticked with her. "I know how hard it is, losing a part of yourself. I know it's not the same, and I know that it hurts like hell now. But you live on. You adapt. You improve. You might not be the person you were two weeks ago, but eventually you'll be better. I promise you that it's possible. And I promise that you will always be Dick Grayson, that you will always be family."

Dick sat down on the floor, listening to Barbara talk. He tried for as long as possible to stay strong, and the way she was talking, how familiar she sounded with the subject, he knew she had been through something just like this. Probably with him being the one talking to her. Slowly, he lifted himself from the ground, picking up two broken pieces of the glass, and fitting them together. He stared at them for a long time, as he seemed to be so prone to doing, then looked up at Babs. "I guess I just need to pick up the pieces," he said quietly, and then set them down on the dust pan again. "And put them back together." It wasn't meant to be so poetic, really, just the first thought that had popped into his mind. He was the cup, broken and shattered on the floor. It wasn't up to him alone to clean up the mess. This wasn't a one man job. He needed help. He /wanted/ help. He wanted Barbara's help. He wanted his old friend Babs back, to remember her. He wanted to be ale to smile at her again. He reached out, hand still shaking like a leaf, and set it on hers, which was gripped on one of the handles of her chair as she tried to clean up the mess. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I know it's not-- I know you know that, but I just want--wanted to say it." He paused, his eyes feeling tired, his head heavy as lead. "Can I-- is it alright if I, um-- s-stay here?"

Dick was clearly thinking, so Barbara let him, mopping up the water now that most of the glass had been removed. The pile of glass and wet rags was dumped into some Tupperware, leaving the floor clean underneath them. She looked up as Dick started speaking, smiling at his metaphor. "That sounds about right. And if anyone can do it, it's you." Barbara turned her gaze back to the floor, scouring it for spare shards. He'd be okay, Barbara was sure. He had to be okay. His hand trembled against hers, making Babs look up in surprise. Her own hands were steadier now than earlier, but by no means steady. "You're welcome." She replied, holding his hand tight. His question wasn't surprising, but it made her pause. Instinctively, she wanted to say yes to him on the spot, but Dick wasn't the only one who was sick. She had to think if herself too, or the precious little progress she'd made would have been for nothing. Barbara took her time weighing the options, before smiling at Dick. "Yes, you can, as long as you need. Get in the bed, and I'll put this away. Or there's a spare bedroom if you prefer."

Dick noticed her hesitation, and he understood why. Maybe he shouldn't have asked? But then, after a bit, she smiled and he couldn't help but smile back. It was infectious. They both looked tired. "Um, wherever is...cause you need to sleep, too," he said, looking around the room. "I can..." he started to stand up, then realized he didn't know where the spare bedroom was. The rooms outside of this one were a maze to him, just like the manor. Just like his own brain. He promptly sat back down. "Can I..." but the look on her face was all he needed. Smiling, he slipped off his shoes and crawled into the bed. The pillow felt nice against his face. Cool, comforting, safe. He let out a breath. He didn't notice when Babs crawled into the bed next to him.

That night, he fell asleep next to his best friend; and in his dreams, he remembered everything about her.

#chatzy #barbara #potw #old comforts #this was draining and long #but worth it #such feels

Old Comforts || The Alessi Brothers

Nico hummed quietly to himself in the kitchen, cutting neatly through the chocolate moonpie on the plate in front of him. It was tradition, right? And enough had changed recently, enough things were different and new, that Nico thought they could both use some good old familiarity.

And it didn't get much more familiar than Cody's favorites-- apple juice and moonpies. Since he'd gotten back from Oregon, Nico could tell that something was up with the boy-- something pretty big, even if Cody wasn't spilling the beans easily. It wasn't as though the blond was alone in that-- it wasn't as though Nico had exactly been upfront about what had happened to him in the Nexus HQ while Cody was away, but he kept feeling that maybe if he could push it off a little while longer, it wouldn't be as big of a deal-- maybe he was blowing it out of proportion, anyway. Maybe it wouldn't be a big deal to Cody-- it was all part of the job, anyway. And it wasn't as though Nico had straight up lied about it yet. Even if he had been covering up more than usual.

It was the scars, more than anything, that bothered him. Usually scars didn't-- and they wouldn't, if he wasn't trying to hide what all had happened. If Soph hadn't put herself and her job at risk by rescuing him-- right. Now wasn't the time.

"Cody?" Nico knocked gently at his door, glass and plate in hand, "Can I come in?"

#para #Cody #Old Comforts #I hope this is okay sjfkldsfj