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dickgraysonwayne · 23 days

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Today? Yesterday?

Ao3

Summary: Of all the things to kick off a time loop…

@dickgraysonweek 2024, Day 3: DILF Dick Grayson | Apologizing To Dick | Time Loop

Day 0

Dick knows it’s bad news when the man shrieks “A curse upon you!”

He changes course mid-flip, trying to predict where he’d be hit. He feels nothing, so he lands on the ground steadily, looking up at the platform where the man stands: finger pointed in his direction and a wild look on his face.

“Whoa,” Dick says, putting his arms up. “I didn’t know we were rolling like that.”

For all he had figured, this was supposed to be a quick grab-and-go rescue of a Blüdhaven mayoral candidate. She’d made a promise to clean up the city and, of course, certain groups weren’t very pleased with the concept.

Instead, he’d run into an armed-to-the-teeth gang that were not making this rescue any easier. So, he’d opted for a more subtle approach, sneaking around on rooftops until he was able to maneuver his way into a large warehouse. He’d wandered through, found a locked room in the corner, and then—

And then he’d run into…whatever this was, and the situation turned from guns&gangs to curse&magic territory.

He really hadn’t been ready for curses.

“Okay,” Dick says, eyes darting around. He needs to get to that door. “So, um. When you say curse, do you mean a plague on both your houses lamenting type curse or may you turn into a frog type curse?”

The man doesn’t clarify. “A curse,” He screeches again. “May you never find satisfaction in validation. May you be locked in a cycle of discontent. May the one who you need the most from—”

The man squacks as he’s interrupted by a Batarang to the head. Stunned, he falls backwards onto the platform and stays there.

Dick puts his arm down. “Well,” He says. “That was more…high minded than curses usually are. Very psychological.”

He hadn’t seen any physical indications of anything actually happening, but you can never be sure with this kind of thing. He hopes that whatever this was didn’t take.

“Okay,” He mutters to himself. He wishes Roy would’ve seen this, he would’ve found it hilarious. “Let’s finish this.”

He runs towards the door probably holding the promise for Blüdhaven’s future, hoping that the rest of the day goes by without any further incident.

Day 1

They’re not even in costume when it happens.

Hell, they’re not even working when it happens.

Instead, Dick finds himself making the long trip to Gotham the next morning, called in to assist with something Tim is working on. It’s something from your files, back in the day, Tim had said over the phone. Can you make your way over?

He’d slept in a bit, hoping to enjoy his Sunday. But getting to spend time with Tim is always great too, so he had agreed to make his way over.

It had taken maybe a few minutes to explain the case (Two-Face, now that was a time), before Tim had gotten what he needed. “Thanks, Dick,” Tim says, scribbling down in his notes. “I think I just need to set up a trap, and then we’ll be all good here.”

“Need any help?” Dick asks, tapping his fingers on the table, feeling restless.

“If you’re staying,” Tim says. “I’ll be going out at, like, 2300 so. You sticking around?”

Dick shrugs. “Sure,” He says. “Since I’m here. B around?”

“Yeah,” Tim says, sitting back into a stretch. “He’s workin’ on something else, I dunno.”

“Look at you!” Dick says, messing with his hair. “Solo mission guy over here!”

“Quit it!” Tim says, batting his hand away. “I’ve been solo mission guy!”

Dick laughs. “Hey,” He says, getting off of the chair. “You wanna go get some burgers or something? There’s still a long way to go til 2300 hours.”

“Sure,” Tim says, languidly getting up. “Man, I feel like I’ve been sitting here for ages.”

And that’s when, whilst heading over to grab a burger in town, Dick tells Tim about his encounter the day before.

“It was pretty insane,” He tells him as they pull out of the manor’s driveway. “The whole curse thing made me a little nervous, not gonna lie. That stuff gives me the heebie jeebies. But I got up just fine today, everything totally normal. So either the dude didn’t actually get me, or he was talking a big game.”

Tim frowns. “That’s a little weird,” He says, taking a sip of water from his Robin branded water bottle. “You should be careful though. You never know with magic.”

Dick nods vigorously. “Exactly!” He says, making his way to the manor’s large gate. “There aren’t any rules or anything to watch out for. You just gotta wait and see for something to happen before you can do anything about it.”

Tim’s frown only deepens. “I don’t know about that,” He says. “Maybe you should go talk to Zatanna. I dunno, I wouldn’t mess with this stuff. Have her check you over or something.”

“Yeah, but it’s not even a guarantee with her,” Dick says, waiting for the gate to open. “Sometimes magic doesn’t show up or whatever even when she checks. It’s a total crapshoot. But the smart idea still would be to check anyway—”

He jumps as Tim loses his grip on his water bottle, spilling it over his lap and the seat. “Ah, shit!” Tim says, hurriedly picking the bottle back up.

“No worries, Timbo,” Dick says, grabbing some tissues from the side of the door. “It’s just water.”

“I know,” Tim says. “Even so, though, I’m sorry-”

Everything stops.

Day 2

Dick wakes up.

He blinks up at his apartment ceiling. Damn, he thinks, yawning deeply. That was one hell of a dream. He feels around on his bedside table for his phone, then blinks at the numbers on top: 08:04

Damn. Slept in.

That curse must’ve really been playing in his thoughts, to follow him into his dreams like that. Unless it was a curse about dreams, which means it was now starting to work…

Dick shakes his head. He can’t think like that. If he does, it’s never going to end.

He levers himself up, stretching again. He’s going to enjoy his Sunday morning before updating his reports on the night before, maybe figure out what to do about the whole curse thing…

His phone buzzes, and he picks it back up. Tim.

Curious, and trying to push away the ominous feeling in his gut, he answers.

Okay. So this is a little weird. But, hey. It’s not like he’s never had a dream about hanging out with Tim before. It’s a perfectly normal thing for him to do. Plus, well, he has been keeping an eye on Gotham. Maybe he’d subconsciously known that something was going on, that Tim would reach out to him for help…

And then it had gotten weirder. But. Still explainable. If he’d been keeping an eye out on Gotham, maybe he’d figured out somewhere back in his mind that Two-Face was going to be the problem…

“Thanks, Dick,” Tim says, scribbling down in his notes. “I think I just need to set up a trap, and then we’ll be all good here.”

“Hm,” Dick says. He taps on the table, feeling off. “Okay.”

“Dick?”

He looks up. Tim is looking at him, concern in his eyes. “Everything good? You seem a little…distracted.”

“Oh,” Dick says, trying to pull himself together. “Yeah. I’m good. I’m just…you know. In my head a little. There’s a whole—” He waves it off. “I’ll explain later. Um, you gonna need any help on your mission?”

“If you’re staying,” Tim says, still eyeing him with concern. “I’ll be going out at, like, 2300 or so. You sticking around?”

The Deja Vu hits him even harder. “Sure,” He says. “Hey. Is this a solo mission?”

Tim gives him a small smile. “Yeah,” He says. “I’ve been doing them for a while now. B’s working on his own thing, I’m working on mine.”

“Nice, Timmy,” Dick says, finding a smile for him in return. “Hey, wanna go get something to eat? I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.” He shoots to his feet, needing to move, needing to do something.

“Um,” Tim says, stumbling up with him. “Yeah, sure. Yeah let’s get…let’s get burgers, or something.”

Dick nods, fast walking his way out. An icy feeling grows in his stomach.

“What were you saying earlier?”

Dick starts, looking away from the slowly opening gate. “Hm?”

“You had a whole,” and Tim makes a circle gesture with his hands. “Thing you were thinking about. What was it?”

“Oh,” Dick says. “Well. Um. I had a little…run-in yesterday. Some guy yelled that he was gonna put a curse on me. And, like, I didn’t feel anything off or anything like that. But today…I don’t know. It’s all weird today. Like majorly Deja Vu or something.”

Tim frowns. “That’s weird,” He says, taking a sip of water. “You should be careful though. You never know with magic. In fact, you should probably—”

“Go to Zatanna, I know,” Dick says distractedly. “I will. I think I should. After our mission today, I will. It’s just…nothing specific, you know? Just an off feeling.”

The gate opens, and Dick quickly turns to the side. “Hey—”

He catches Tim’s water bottle, just as Tim drops it.

“Oh!” Tim says, flinching back. “Hey. Nice catch.”

Dick hands it back to him, mind spinning.

“I don’t know what happened,” Tim continues. “I wasn’t paying attention, I guess, sorry—”

Everything stops.

Day 3

Dick wakes up.

He shoots up in bed with a gasp. He throws his sheets off of him then lunges at his phone, unlocking the screen to check the day and time. Sunday. 08:04.

He falls back into bed, phone clutched tightly in his hand. Okay, He thinks, slightly hysterical. Okay. This is…this is probably the curse, huh? This is probably the curse.

What had the man said again? Something about…validation. Satisfaction in validation. And a cycle of discontent.

Well. That’s the cycle part figured, then. He’s gonna keep resetting until he breaks whatever curse this is. So, all he needs to do is figure out exactly what it is that’s going on that’s causing the resets, and he should be good to go. Right?

“Okay,” He tells himself. “Okay, what were the factors that set this off? What made me reset?”

The obvious answer, is, of course, Tim.

He thinks on this for a moment. He’ll need to tell Tim everything, brainstorm through the issue with him. He’s smart, he’ll probably help him figure this out…

His phone rings. He looks down. Tim.

He picks up.

“Hey, Dick,” Tim says. “So, I’m working on something—”

“I’m on my way,” Dick says, running to his closest to grab something. “Just gimme a—”

“Hey,” Tim says, confusion clear in his voice. “It’s okay, there’s no emergency or anything, I just need your help with something.”

“I know,” Dick says. “And I can do that. But I need your help with something too. Buckle up, it’s a weird one.”

“Time loop?” Tim says, eyes wide.

“Time loop.” Dick confirms with a nod.

Tim sits back in his chair, baffled. “Well,” He says. “The good news is that you’ve only just started on this, I guess. Maybe you won’t have to deal with it for much longer.”

Dick groans, going facedown on the table’s surface. “Don’t do that,” He says, voice muffled. “You just jinxed me.”

“Shut up,” Tim says, but he sounds distant. “What did the guy say again?”

Dick lifts his head. “He cursed me with never finding satisfaction in validation,” He says. “And told me I’d be stuck in a cycle of discontent. And then he started saying something about a person I’d need it from before I stopped him.”

“Hm,” Tim says, steepling his fingers together. “And when you went through the days with me, it reset at about the same time both times?”

“Yeah,” Dick side eyes him. “You’ve got your I-have-an-idea face there, Timbo.”

“I do not,” Tim says, making his I-have-an-idea face. “Well. I do have an idea…not a very specific one, but still.”

Dick raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“There’s a specific series of events,” Tim begins, “That lead to your reset. I speak with you, you come here, we discuss the case, we go out to get food, I drop my water, and then you wake up. Is that right?”

“Yeah,” Dick says. “That’s right.”

“So,” Tim says. “What if we disrupt it? We break the chain of events. And then we can see from there. It could be time related. Did we leave at about the same time both days? Did the reset happen at about the same time both days?”

Dick thinks about it for a second. “You know what…” He says slowly. “Yeah. It did. Around…12:30, I wanna say?”

“Okay,” Tim says. “So let’s stay in. And then wait for 12:30. Disrupt the chain of events, and then see if you reset or not. And if you don’t…we’ll know it’s not time dependent, and we can try to work on it from there.”

“Timbo,” Dick says, beaming at him. “That’s a great idea. You’re great!”

Tim blushes. “Come on,” He says. “Stop it. It’s just an idea. I didn’t even think about what the actual phrasing of the curse could actually mean.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dick says, grinning. “It’s a start! And if I don’t reset at 12:30…it means we’re making progress! And maybe I won’t have to be stuck in this, which I would very much appreciate.”

Tim smiles back. “Well,” He says. “If you do reset, come find me, okay? We can pick up where we left off, and you can explain everything we’ve tried so far.”

“You’re the best, Timmy,” Dick says. He checks his phone. “I think we’ll find out soon, anyway. We hit 12:30 in about half an hour, so. We’ll know then.”

Tim nods at him. “Okay,” He says, sighing. “So. We wait.”

Half an hour passes with the speed of molasses. Dick can’t sit still the entire time: his knee jumps constantly, he fiddles with anything he can get his hands on, he gets up and paces on occasion.

Fifteen minutes in, Tim looks at him askance. “That isn’t helping you, Dick,” He says, clearly trying to be patient with him. “Sit down. Nap, or something. Wait, actually don’t. Go watch puppy videos on your phone, or something.”

“As cute as that sounds,” Dick says. “I don’t think that’s gonna help.”

Tim sighs. “You’re so fidgety,” He complains. “You must have been such a nightmare child. I feel like apologizing to Bruce on your behalf.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” Dick defends. “If anything, Bruce needs to apologize to me for not being able to manage my energy.”

Tim grins. “Well,” He says. “Can’t say I disagree with you on that.” He checks his phone. “Okay,” He says, countenance turning entirely. “Minute to go. Tell me if you start feeling weird, or something.”

Dick nods, shifting nervously. “Will do,” He says, then starts counting time in his head. 60, 59, 58…

He makes it to the last few, 4, 3, 2, 1, then braces himself.

Nothing happens.

Dick turns to Tim. “I feel normal,” He tells him. “No resetting feeling or anything going on from here!”

“Let’s wait a little longer, Tim says, eyebrows furrowed. “Maybe there’s a specific time to the minute or second to hit, and we haven’t gotten there yet.”

Dick groans. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” He says, sitting down again. “Okay. Let’s wait.”

Another fifteen minutes pass. Then twenty.

And still nothing.

Dick turns to Tim again, eyebrows raised. “It looks like I’m still good,” He says. “I think we can say that I’m in the clear?”

Tim nods. “Looks like,” He says. “So it’s not time dependent. Nor chain of events dependent. There has to be a trigger here. We have to find out what it is.”

Dick nods, tapping a finger to his knee. “Satisfaction in validation,” He mutters. “So that means…it’s something where I got validated for something? When did that happen in the previous resets?”

Tim frowns. “Let’s try to go through your day,” He says. “Specific things you did. Specific things you said. Maybe we’ll figure it out that way.”

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. “My memory isn’t as good as yours,” He says, running through his days in his head. “And…I don’t know, the details are kinda fuzzy. But I’ll try.”

“I know, Tim says, not unsympathetic. “It’s not easy, sorry—”

Everything stops.

Day 4

Dick wakes up.

Shit, he thinks. It’s unnecessary at this point, but he checks his phone again. Sunday. 08:04.

He taps his phone to his chin, frustrated. Right. So, it clearly isn’t a Tim-specific problem. Or, maybe it is? Maybe it’s the combination of location and person?

If that’s the case…maybe if he just doesn’t go, then he doesn’t reset.

Satisfaction in validation.

He still isn’t sure about that one. But if he can hack it by breaking the curse without figuring that out, then he’ll take it.

Anyway, if he stays away from Tim for the day, he might figure out how long it’ll let him go before it resets. Will it go on forever, until he sees Tim. Will he have to avoid him for a while? Can’t let that happen, He thinks. That would be ridiculous.

He really should give Zatanna a call. She might be able to break the curse without even needing to figure that part out.

His phone rings, and he picks up without even looking the screen. “Hey Timmy,” He says, deciding not to try to tip him off that anything was amiss. “How’s it going?”

“Hey Dick,” Tim responds, “I’ve got something here—”

“Okay Tim,” Dick says, going to get his day started (again). “If you need my help with something, I’m all in. But I’ve got something I gotta go do, so I can’t actually come over. Is it something you can send me? Promise I’ll help out.”

“Sure,” Tim says, sounding a bit taken aback. “Yeah, no worries. Thanks for the help, Dick. I’ll send it to you now. Standby.”

“Thanks, Timmy. See ya.” Dick says, disconnecting, and feeling a little bad about the whole thing. He’d usually jump at any opportunity or hang out, which Tim knows. He doesn’t think he’d hurt his feelings or anything, but he still does feel a bit guilty for blowing him off like that.

It’s for a good cause, He thinks. I’ll come by to see him when all this is over.

He thinks about Tim’s directive to come see him during the next reset. Sorry, buddy. Maybe if I reset again. So, what can he do? How does he go about solving this problem?

He gets ready, thinking about how to go about his day. Maybe I should call Zatanna, He thinks, putting his jacket on. And hopefully she’ll be able to see me now.

Dick heads out of his apartment, not having a particular plan in mind. He pulls out his phone, considering giving Zatanna that call. He scrolls through his contacts, hovering over her name, conflicted.

As he goes to open the doors to his building’s stairwell, they suddenly swing open in his direction. Startled, he steps back, just about missing being flattened by the door.

One of his neighbors emerges, almost bumping into him. “Oh my god,” The man says. “I didn’t see you there, I’m so sorry—”

Everything stops.

Day 5

Dick wakes up.

Sunday. 08:04.

He sighs, leaning back against his pillow. Take 5, I guess.

Right. Okay, so. It’s pretty clear what’s causing this now.

Satisfaction in validation. Apology.

If he receives an apology, no matter who it’s from, then his day resets.

He can’t believe he hadn’t noticed before. Both times with Tim and the water bottle, he’d apologized to trigger the time loop. In the non water bottle day, Tim’s “sorry” had triggered it. With his neighbor, the apology from the door had triggered it. Getting it from a new person had really brought it home.

So, solutions?

He sits back up, holding his phone, waiting for Tim’s call. The obvious play would be to just…not receive any apologies. While it’s easier said than done, it would definitely give him an idea of what’s going on, and help him test how far this loop is going to let him do. Could he go days, weeks, even years without an apology, then receive one and loop back around? That would be a problem.

Well. Maybe he can test it out, just for today. A no-apology-day.

The phone rings. He picks it up. “Hey, Timmy,” He says. “How’re you doing?”

“Hey Dick,” Tim responds, “I’ve got something here—”

Well. If he wants to be left alone today…

“Oh yeah, Tim,” Dick says, trying his best to remember his earlier statement. “If you need my help with something I’m ready. But I’ve got something i have to do today, so I can’t actually come over. Can you send me the files and I’ll give you a call about them later? I’d come if I could, promise.”

“Sure,” Tim says, and he sounds the same as last time, excellent. “Yeah, no worries. Thanks for the help, Dick. I’ll send it to you now. Standby.”

“See ya Timbo,” Dick says, disconnecting with a sigh. It’s more waiting, then. And this time, he’s gonna have to do it alone.

Staying away from people all day is difficult.

He knows he’s got a reputation as a people-person, but that’s only because he has the fortune to be in probably the most socially awkward family in history. He actually doesn’t mind a little alone time every now and then.

This, though? This is total isolation. And, while he’s wired and worried and anxious, is a tough thing for him to overcome.

He spends the first part of his day working on the stuff Tim sent him. He’d seen it all before, of course, but he makes sure to really pour over the information, adding a lot of very detailed explanations and analyses. He hopes this doesn’t make Tim suspicious (who is he kidding? Of course it will) but hopefully he won’t have enough time to actually act on his suspicions before Dick can hopefully move on to phase two of his curse-breaker plan.

After he sends all his notes to Tim, he finds himself left with hours and hours of time and people to avoid. Which, actually, is harder than he’d anticipated.

He spends the rest of the day from late afternoon fielding calls. As a general rule, Dick always picks up (just in case. You never know who’s using a burner). But man, he hasn’t realized exactly how many people call him until he wanted to avoid talking. After checking to see if anyone was in any immediate danger (they were not) he’d make his excuses and hop off swiftly before anyone got it their minds to give him an apology of some kind.

Not to mention the texts. And half of them aren’t even work stuff: just Wally sending him memes, or Donna sending him memes, or Babs sending him another article on the activities of the Red Hood, or Amy sending him memes, or Clark sending his weekly “good afternoon 😊” texts that he somehow manages to stick to every single week. Dick doesn’t know if apology-by-text would count here, and it is a minefield navigating conversations to make sure that the word is never sent from the other end.

“Sorry” is, in Dick’s opinion, very overused.

As for the rest of his time in self-induced isolation, he tries to keep himself busy. The TV is on, and he scrolls through all the things he’d put on his watch later list on streaming services (he watches nothing). He picks up a book he’d planned to trying (only to put it down minutes later, unable to concentrate). He tries stretching and running through some gentle warmup exercises (this one takes).

Overall, it’s not an experience he’s keen on repeating. If I make it 24 hours without looping, he tells himself firmly. I’m going to call Zatanna.

It probably would’ve been smarter to start with her, like Tim had said, but hey. The more info he can give her about how this works, the easier time she’ll have lifting it.

He makes it to the evening, and then into the night without further incident. Thankfully, Tim hadn’t tried to call him back. Nor did, to his relief, Bruce. Bruce would probably see through him in a heartbeat, and involving him in this would be a headache and a half to deal with.

As time ticks down to midnight, Dick feels exhaustion wash over him, thanks to the nervous tension he’d held on to the entire day. No he tells himself, staring at the blurry numbers on his phone. Stay awake.

Once midnight passes, maybe he can take a nap. Then he can figure out what to do next.

He rubs at his eyes, glancing at his phone again. 23:59.

Well, he’s almost done with the full day. This should give him a good idea of how this curse wo—

12:00

Everything stops.

Day 6

Dick wakes up.

Sunday. 08:04.

He doesn’t even wait for the phone call this time. Instead, he scrolls through his contacts, tapping on Zatana’s name with a determined finality.

“Ah. Well, that seems like an issue, doesn’t it?”

Dick groans, putting his head in his hands. “Yeah,” He says, voice muffled between his fingers. “It really is. Thanks for coming to help break it. I couldn’t risk going out to you.”

A hand pats his head. “No problem,” Zatanna says, sounding amused. “And, look. Could be worse. You’re, what, a week in? Not too bad. And with the myriad of curses out there? This is a pretty light one, comparatively speaking.”

Dick sighs, dropping his hands on his lap. “I guess,” He says. “So. What’s the deal here? Can you break this…whatever it is?”

“Let me check,” Zatanna puts a hand on his head and closes her eyes. Her hand glows into a warm, white light, and he feels a sense of peace wash over him…

She takes her hand away. “There’s definitely something there,” She says, sitting back down across from him. “But. I’ll tell you right now, it’s more risk than it’s worth to break from my end.”

Dick frowns. “What’s the risk?” He asks.

Zatanna shrugs. “Since I don’t know the magician, or the source of the magic,” She says. “I’d have to go with a general curse break. It would require a lot of energy from both our sides, and then you would need to keep feeding the break from your own energy. It takes too long, or you don’t have enough? Well…it would be risky, let’s just say that. It wouldn’t be worth it for a relatively low stakes curse like this.”

“Okay,” Dick says. “Yeah. I see your point. So,” He crosses his arms. “What do you think? How would I break this and resolve the time loop normally?”

Zatanna goes over to his fridge, pulls out a water bottle. “Here,” She says, giving it to him.

Dick takes it, confused. “Will drinking this solve it?”

Zatanna laughs. “It’s just water,” She says, sitting back down next to him. “You look dehydrated. Okay. I need your memory recall.”

Dick takes a sip. “Okay,” He says.

“We need to go through the exact wording of the curse,” She says. “Figure out exactly what you were cursed with, and then resolve it. Probably the best way to deal with it would be to confront it directly.”

Dick frowns. “Okay,” He says, going through the memory. “Exact wording? I went through this with Tim earlier. Um,” He thinks for a moment. “May you never find satisfaction in validation. May you be locked in a cycle of discontent. May the one who you need the most from—” He stops. “He cut off there.”

“Huh,” Zatanna says. She looks elegant even when she’s confused. “That’s…verbose.”

“Tell me about it,” Dick says. “Anyway. I think I’ve figured out what the first two parts mean. Satisfaction in validation probably refers to the apologies, because every loop occurred right after I got one. Cycle of discontent is probably the loop, because, well, I’ve been looping. The third part got interrupted, so I don’t know if it went through…”

Zatanna gives him a piercing stare. “Interesting,” She says. “Wait a moment. Let me try something.”

Dick nods. “Go for it.”

She looks directly at him, mouth curled up in a slight smile. “I’m sorry,” She says.

Dick flinches, slamming his eyes shut. A moment later, he opens them to find Zatanna still sitting across from him, eyes sparkling.

“Why’d you do that?” Dick demands, heart pounding. “At least warn me first.”

Zatanna laughs. “I know,” She says. “I needed to check something. So. It looks like the apology needs to be sincere in order to trigger the reset.”

“Oh,” Dick says. “Okay. I see what you did. So this is better, right? Just hearing sorry won’t be enough to catapult me back?”

“Yes,” Zatanna says. “I have to tell you, though. I think this just made the curse break a lot more complicated.”

Dick frowns. “How so?”

“Well,” Zatanna says. “The third part of the curse. That’s the key to breaking it. He may not have finished the phrase but he started it, which should’ve been enough to make it stick. It looks like you’re gonna have to hear an apology from a specific person, a sincere apology, in order the break the curse.”

Dick breaks out into a smile. “Thanks, Z,” He says. “Should be easy enough, right? I have to tell you, I was expecting something a lot more—”

He trails off at the sympathetic look on her face. “What?” He asks, an ominous feeling settling over him. “What is it?”

“Well,” She says. “The wording says ‘the one who you need the most from’ is the person you’ll need to get the sincere apology from. Tell me, who do you think that is?”

Dick turns it over in his mind for a moment, then…

Bruce…A voice in his head whispers. It sounds like his own, but not.

He freezes. “Oh no.”

“Yeah,” Zatanna says, exuding sympathy again. “I think we both know who that should be.”

“How do you know?” He asks, heart pounding. “Are we even thinking of the same person?”

“Oh, please,” Zatanna says. “Who else could it be? We can confirm it though. Does he dress like a bat and fight crime?”

Dick groans. “Oh my god,” He says. “How am I even gonna do that? Get a sincere apology from him? I can’t even talk to him most of the time.”

“You’ll have to, to break the curse.” Zatanna says. Dick takes another sip of water. “And remember, you only have til midnight of the same day to do it.”

“A deadline,” Dick says, despairing. “Even better.”

“Right,” Zatanna says. “So you have a plan, then? Know where you’re going?”

“Yeah,” He says. “I just have to come up with an idea…”

“You’ll probably need the full day,” Zatanna says. “So allow me, okay? Good luck.”

Dick frowns at her. “What do you mea—”

She looks him right in the eye. “I’m sorry.”

Everything stops.

Day 7

Dick wakes up.

Sunday. 08:04.

He groans, considering just going back to sleep and dealing with this again tomorrow. Today. Yesterday. Whatever.

Because, well. Getting Bruce involved? That’s gonna be a whole ordeal.

Not to mention, getting Bruce to give him a sincere apology in less than a day? Talk about an impossible task.

He might as well get started now. He’ll need all the time he can get.

The phone rings.

“Hey, Timbo,” Dick says. “How’s it going?”

In many ways, this day plays out a lot like the first one.

He shows up at Tim’s invitation, then takes him through the case that he now knows like the back of his hand. Tim’s shocked but impressed, and it’s really amusing even though he’s kind of cheating.

“Thanks, Dick,” Tim says, scribbling down in his notes. “I think I just need to set up a trap, and then we’ll be all good here.”

And here’s where the divergence has to happen.

Dick nods. “No worries,” He says. “Hey. Bruce around?”

“Yeah,” Tim says. “He’s around here somewhere, probably down in the Cave. Why?”

“Gotta talk to him,” He says, standing up. He ruffles Tim’s hair on the way. “See you later.”

He can’t tip them off. If the apology needs to be sincere, Bruce cant be aware that it has to be, or the sincerity is gone. Right?

It’s gonna be a challenge either way, and he takes the route down to the cave in a grim sort of silence.

He taps on the large wall twice as he walks in, sound echoing across the cave. “Hey, Bruce,” He says, heart pounding. “How’s it going?”

Bruce is sitting at the computer, staring at bits of data that only make sense to him. “Dick,” He acknowledges, without turning around. “Working on this. You been hearing about what’s going on in New York?”

“Hm?” Dick goes through his non-time-loop-related memory bank. “Oh. You mean…the alien incident? Yeah. Why, is that relevant to us?”

“Maybe,” Bruce says, still staring at the screen. “Possibly. There’s something there…”

He trails off. Dick is familiar with the pauses, so he waits patiently.

He’s putting it off. Time is of the essence, and he’s putting it off. But goddamn. He really does not want to do this.

The only thing he can think of doing at this point is to go in bluntly. He doesn’t have time to plan a more nuanced approach, and Bruce’ll probably see right through it anyway.

Here we go, Dick thinks, before taking a deep breath. “Bruce,” He says, and he can barely get the words out. “We need to talk, okay?”

He’s not sure if it’s the words or the tone that gets Bruce’s attention, but it works. Right away, Bruce whirls around in his chair. His focus, previously fully on the screen in front of him, is now concentrated entirely on Dick. “What is it?” Bruce asks, and he staring at him like he’s able to see right into his brain, like he’s reading through his thoughts one by one.

The weight of his attention is almost too much to bear. “Um,” He says, taking another breath. “It’s. Well. It’s kind of a long story.”

Bruce isn’t moved. “You’re sacred,” He observes, leaning closer. “What is it? What’s happened? What’s wrong?”

Dick lets out a shaky breath, trying to regain his composure. “Do you trust me?” He asks.

This probably doesn’t help with Bruce’s concern. His eyes narrow. “Why?” He asks. “What’s wrong?”

“If you do,” Dick says. “I need you to trust me on this. Um. I need an apology, okay?”

Whatever Bruce had anticipated he’d say, it was clearly not this. “What.” He says flatly, more of a statement than a question.

“I…” Dick says, feeling like he’d made a mistake with his approach. “I need you to say sorry, okay? To me.”

Bruce is, uncharacteristically, shocked into silence. He sits back, face impassive, eyes confused. “For what?” He finally asks, when Dick doesn’t elaborate further.

Of all the questions…“Anything,” Dick says, and he feels his face grow hot. “Pick something. There’s a lot… I just need a verbal apology from you, okay? And you need to mean it.”

Bruce’s face finally cracks, settling on a frown. “What is this?” He asks, voice rising. “Where is this coming from?”

“You trust me, right?” Dick says, an edge of desperation to his voice. “I need you to do this. Please.”

He thinks the plea will be enough. It isn’t.

Bruce just stares at him. “What is this?” He repeats, then: “Tell me this: how old were you when I fired you?”

Dick’s stomach drops. “Bruce,” He says. “It’s me. I’m me, you don’t need to check—”

“How old?” Bruce snaps. Dick can see his hands drift to his belt.

He exhales. “Seventeen,” He says, conceding defeat. “It was after I got shot.”

Bruce’s hands pause right before they get to his weapons. “Then,” He says. “Why are you asking this? You’re not making any sense.”

“I know,” Dick says. “But…I’ll explain later. I just need this from you. Please.”

Bruce grits his teeth. “I can’t do that unless I know..”

Dick stares at him. “You won’t?” He asks. “You’re not gonna trust me on this?”

Bruce doesn’t answer, still eyeing him suspiciously.

Dick tastes defeat on his tongue. Embarrassment, rage, and sadness battle in his throat. “Fine,” He says shortly, turning around. “I’ll…I’ll go then. See you tomorrow.”

Bruce doesn’t go after him.

Dick gets back home and goes right to his apartment, slamming the door shut as he enters.

He’ll need another plan tomorrow. Today. Yesterday. But, for now…

For now, he sits and stares at the time until it hits midnight.

Day 8

Dick wakes up.

He doesn’t even bother to check the date and time, jumping out of bed and grabbing for his clothes.

Okay. New plan. New approach. But what? Straightforward isn’t going to work. Subtle isn’t going to work. What’s left to him now? How can he possibly get Bruce to apologize to him and mean it?

He freezes in the middle of putting on a sock. Maybe…maybe he wasn’t doing enough earlier. Maybe he needs to get more straightforward. God knows Bruce can pull out sincerity when he needs it. Maybe hearing that the world is in a time loop that only he can break will do enough.

Grimly, he pulls the rest of the sock on. He’ll be able to tell Tim this way too, and maybe the both of them can convince Bruce of doing this together.

The phone rings. He grabs it. “Timmy,” He says. “It’s Two Face, by the way. Your case. You’ll just need to set your trap for tonight, and you’re golden.”

There’s a short silence, then: “How did you know that?” Tim asks, baffled. Dick can practically hear him peering at all corners of his room. “How—”

“I’m on my way, okay?” Dick says, grabbing his keys. “I’ll explain everything when I get there.”

“Time loop?” Tim says, eyes wide.

“Time loop.” Dick confirms with a nod.

“Damn,” Tim says, shaking his head. “And I told you to keep coming to me to figure this out and you didn’t? Lame. This could’ve been over by now.”

Dick huffs a laugh. “Honestly,” he says, shrugging. “You might be right.”

“How’re you gonna…you know?” Tim says, giving him a sideways glance. “Get Bruce to agree? Think cluing him in to all this is gonna help?”

“It has to, right?” Dick says, sighing. “I mean, asking him to do it didn’t work. If he knows it’s a time loop, then he’ll try.”

“But what if trying is the problem,” Tim says, and Dick stops him before he can continue.

“I know,” Dick says. “I considered that one too. But we have to try. The other way didn’t work, and if this does then we’re golden. If not…then I guess I’ll have to try something else.”

Tim rubs his head. “Well,” he says. “At least you get a bunch of do overs, free of charge. It’s not even a this-place-kinda-sucks Groundhog Day situation.”

Dick can only laugh. “Yeah,” He says. “We’re only on round 8, too. Haven’t even reached double digits yet.”

“Light work,” Tim scoffs, then stands up. “C’mon. Let’s go tell Bruce now.”

“Yeah,” Dick says, the familiar dread starting to form in his stomach. “Okay, let’s go.”

When they make their way down to the Cave, Bruce is exactly where Dick had left him. Staring at the a screen, contemplating the information within.

“Dick,” Bruce says, almost like an announcement. I know that you’re there. “Come take a look at this. You been hearing about what’s going on in New York?”

“Yeah,” Dick says, making his way over. He doesn’t look at the screen. “I couldn’t tell you if it’s relevant or not to us, though. But, Bruce. Listen. I need your help with something.”

“Hm?” Bruce says. His eyes stay on the screen, but Dick can tell that he’s listening. “What is it?”

Dick gives a side glance to Tim. Tim gives him a thumbs up. “Well,” He begins. I seem to have found myself in a…time loop situation. Groundhog Day style.”

This interests Bruce enough that he turns around, pinning Dick with a very familiar searching look. “Time loop?” He asks, then. “Report.”

“I got cursed,” Dick says, keeping it short and simple. “In Blüdhaven. I’ve completed about 7 resets so far. The loop triggers whenever I get an apology, and when the day ends. I spoke with Zatanna during one of the resets, and she told me that I essentially got cursed with needing to hear a sincere apology from…well, you. And if you do that, it’ll stop the loop.”

Bruce barely flinches. Dick’s kind of impressed despite himself. “Hm,” Bruce says, eyeing him critically. “Is this verifiable?”

“It is,” Tim chimes in. “He knew about the thing I’m working on. Knew the questions I was gonna ask him before I was able to do it.”

“Interesting,” Bruce says. “Well. An apology, you say?”

Dick shrugs. “Yeah,” He says, “Should be easy enough, right? It had to be sincere to work, though. The word itself doesn’t trigger anything. It’s more like the word plus the intention.”

Bruce considers him further. “Right,” He says, almost to himself. “Well then. My apologies.”

Dick waits. Nothing happens.

“You have to mean it, Bruce,” He tries. “Just…anything. Anything you have any guilt about. It should work.”

Bruce looks him in the eye, holds contact for a few second, then darts a glance to the side. “I’m sorry,” He says. It sounds somber, real.

Another beat. Nothing happens.

“Are you sure?” Bruce says, and Dick makes an annoyed sound. “That this is supposed to be me?”

“Pretty sure,” Dick says, already tired of the conversation.

“Why?” Bruce says. He gets up, clearly getting into detective-mode. “What did the curse say exactly? I need precise details.”

Dick sighs. “Bruce…”

Tim sidles up to him. “Dude,” He says, sympathetically. “Sorry.”

Both their eyes go wide at the same time before—

Everything stops.

Day 9

Dick wakes up.

He knows what’s gonna happen, but feels the need to check anyway:

Sunday. 08:04.

Great.

Well. He’s still chasing this Bruce angle, so he needs to up back to the manor for take 3 there. One more round of loops, and I’ll hit double digits. He thinks.

The straightforward approach didn’t work. Telling him the situation didn’t work. So he’s going to need to be more subtle with it, try to manipulate the situation into getting an apology.

Dick shakes his head. How is he going to do that, when Bruce has never apologized to him for anything big that he’d done?

Well. He doesn’t have a choice, does he? If this fails, maybe he’ll make a PowerPoint presentation of all the relevant points, and maybe Bruce will be convinced enough to apologize…

He’s getting ahead of himself. He should just try this round and see…

He grabs his phone, dials Tim.

“Hey!” Tim picks up. “I was literally just about to call you.”

“Oh, great,” Dick says, grabbing his shirt. “What a cool coincidence. I just wanted to check with you if Bruce is around, I wanted to talk to him.”

“Yeah,” Tim says. “Mind if I pick your brain before you go in?”

“Sure,” Dick says. He doesn’t want to alert Tim’s suspicions. “I’m on my way.”

Dick stops right outside the Cave, indecision burning away at him.

He needs a battle plan. If he doesn’t go in fully prepared, Bruce is gonna pry him apart in seconds.

Okay, He thinks to himself. Be friendly. Be open. Be helpful. And then…pick a fight. But don’t yell. Act hurt. And see

Oh, this is gonna go great.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he saunters into the cave, tapping at the wall twice. “Hey, Bruce,” He greets. “What’s up?”

“Yeah,” Dick says. He approaches the screen, actually looking at the information this time. “Why? Think it’s something we should look at?”

He tries to include himself in the discussion, signaling to Bruce that he’s here to help.

It works. “Maybe,” Bruce thinks. This time, he gestures to Dick to come forward. “If you look here,” He points. “The origin of these beings seems…oddly familiar.”

Dick nods, barely processing the information. He keeps looking for a way in, a way to fall into an argument. “Sure,” He says. How is he going to do this? How is he ever going to get Bruce to say sorry? “You think it’s…uh….”

The words get stuck in his throat.

Bruce looks at him. “Dick?” He asks.

His voice sounds so genuine in that moment that Dick almost can’t handle it. “I’m good,” He says. His voice cracks. “Yeah, I’m good. Just…uh. I’m good.”

Oh boy. This is going great.

Shut up. He tells himself. Pull yourself together.

He looks down at his hands. They’re shaking.

He feels himself being pushed into a chair. “Dick?” A pair of hands grabs his face, lifts it up. He sees Bruce peering into his eyes. “What’s going on?”

Dick chuckles between breaths. “Nothing,” He says, trying to get himself back under control. “I’m good.”

“Clearly not,” Bruce eyes him. “Hold on. I’m going to do an assessment.” He pats Dick’s shoulder. “Stay calm.”

“I am,” Dick insists. He’s mostly embarrassed, really. His hands are still shaking.

In no time at all, he feels his head being yanked back over the top of the chair. A bright light is shined in his eyes.

He hisses, the sudden change in position confusing him. Pain radiates through his neck. “Sorry,” Bruce says, offhandedly, peering into his face. “Need to do this. You don’t look like you have a head injury…”

But Dick…

Dick has…

Sorry…

The word echoes in his head. Did he just…

He gets a feeling like a bucket of ice water has been thrown on him. Everything around him comes into focus with a scary amount of clarity.

Bruce clearly feels a difference, because he pauses. “Dick?” He asks again.

Dick blinks. Once. Twice. “I’m okay,” He gasps. He thinks he means it this time. “I’m okay.”

Bruce had been reluctant to send him home after that.

Dick doesn’t blame him. He’d completely fallen apart right then and there and probably scared the shit out of him, so.

And, well. His panic had been clear in the fact that. That he’d apologized. And…and it may have broken the curse? He thinks? He’s no expert, but there’s only one way to find out, really.

So, Bruce’s absolute insistence that he stay the night didn’t push his buttons the way it usually would. Instead, he gives in to the pushing. He’s too tired not to.

Plus, once Bruce got Alfred involved…there was no way he was gonna get away after that.

That’s why Dick finds himself in his childhood bedroom hours later, staring at the stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars and moons on the ceiling.

Satisfaction in validation. He thinks, then. Suck it.

He should probably go back to the warehouse anyway. Can’t have the dude going ahead cursing other people willy-nilly. Next time, he’ll bring Zatanna.

Bruce apologized. He thinks. It still blows him away. He actually apologized.

Not for anything major, either. Just…just in the moment, not even thinking about it. The words slipped out, just like that. Like he did it all the time.

Dick thinks he should be feeling some type of way about that. That it should resolve at something inside of him, at the thing that’s been there ever since he was seventeen years old.

May you never find satisfaction in validation..

He shakes it off. Maybe he would feel differently if it was a bigger apology. Or maybe it hasn’t quite sunk in yet. Either way. He’s pretty sure that the curse has lifted, but he’s not gonna count it a done deal until he hits the next day without incident.

May you never find satisfaction in validation…

Dick keeps an eye out on his phone, trying his best to stay awake.

The time ticks down…

12:00.

He draws a breath, then another. He waits.

Monday. 12:01.

He drops his phone on the bed, breathing deeply. I did it. He thinks. I did it.

May you never find satisfaction in validation

He swallows all the feelings still simmering below the surface, then drops off to sleep.

#dickgraysonweek #dick grayson #nightwing #Tim drake #Robin #Bruce Wayne #Batman #speaks

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river-bottom-nightmare · 1 year

Text

The kid really wasn’t supposed to be an issue. Dick assured himself it wasn’t going to be an issue. He crossed his heart and hoped to die, dragged a knife over his throat, offering Tiger a solemn promise before flipping the knife between his fingers, dancing too close to his jugular, and winking. (One of these days, he’d put a flash of panic in Tiger’s eyes, he just knew it.) Agent 37, especially now with Tiger, was damn near unshakable.

But here’s the thing: this little brat with a suit more expensive than half of Bruce’s wine cellar and a pout sweeter than a baby’s and pudginess still clinging to his cheeks hadn’t stopped talking about jaguars in the past ten minutes.

“Eyes on target. Two minutes to break through security’s last defense,” says Tiger’s voice in his ear, quiet even through their tinny comms. Dick can picture the concentrated furrow on his forehead, the set of his shoulders and flex of his traps to settle himself before a mission’s last stretch. He can picture it better than he can his siblings, somedays.

“That’s great, buddy!” Dick tells Tiger and the kid damn-near clinging to his leg. His hair is blonde, ruffled, clinging to any vestige of its gelled style with a sort of hopeless desperation, like trying to ground a ghost. And this wouldn’t be an issue, it really truly wouldn’t, if Damian Wayne hadn’t also spent their last gala running his tiny, calloused hands through his sticky hair, doing his best impression of not clinging to Dick’s leg, and continuously talking about tigers.

How long has it been since someone’s last touched him with such simple trust? Dick feels the boy’s faith angularly, like a spear of glass through his ribs, through the ribbons of his tendons.

It’s frigid. The two of them are on the ballroom’s balcony, letting the wind use her cold fingers to trace the underside of Dick’s scalp, letting a night of dancing and quiet drugs and secrets spill out behind them. (Letting Dick protect this child’s innocence a day longer.) He isn’t true royalty but he may as well be, the way Bruce always was, because underneath the balcony overlook is a very illegal jaguar enclosure. Inside, the jaguar seems to be stretching, waking herself up for the day, taking note of the iron fence surrounding her as Dick supposes she does every morning. Dick can sympathize. There’s a different sort of freedom they’re both experiencing for the first time, and Dick thinks they both rather prefer before.

“—and they have the strongest bite of any big cat! Compared to its size, I mean.” The boy clearly thinks this fact is splendid—it actually kind of is—and he looks up at Dick, pleading with his eyes for acknowledgement. His aunt and uncle, the child’s new guardians, are attempting to use him to release a bioweapon four nights from now that would potentially kill millions. He’s resisted them for weeks, and here he is, begging for a morsel of praise.

Dick lets his eyes go wide. “Whoa, really? That’s actually pretty cool.” The boy beams, his little wildflower head bobbing and his smile unburdened, beauty like something peeking up out of the earth for the first time. God, Damian used to hate these parties. Used to scowl at any mention of fumbling himself into a child’s suit and making nice with shark-toothed civilians for hours. Used to look up at Dick with that same unfiltered joy when they sat in the hall, asking Alfred to sneak them some tarts, Damian leaning into Dick’s arm and telling him about a cool new tiger fact he learned. That arm still prickles. Emptiness does the opposite of pain, and somehow that is always worse.

“Everything’s disabled,” Tiger’s voice nudges him out of his reverie. “Except the last password. Needs to be handwritten. You got that kid to open up yet?” Dick can hear the challenge in his voice, ever so subtly weaved into his even tone, and he can’t keep his lips from turning up at the edges.

The jaguar in the enclosure below folds up from her stretches, smooth like a burn, and leaps atop a large rock in her enclosure. The boy is stunned into silence for a brief moment. He seems to be gazing at the jaguar with a dangerous sort of longing in his eyes. Like he wants to be cracked open, like a stone-fruit ripped in two and devoured, like trust seems to be at once a holy and sordid thing to him. (He seems to be exactly the son of parents who, rather than entrusting any of their relatives or partners, made their child create the password for access to a mass bioweapon, then had the brilliant sense to be assassinated before they could tell him about it.)

Quietly, murmuring into the comm on his wrist, Dick says, “Try panthera onca.”

There’s a pause, then, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“He’s a kid, Tiger.” It wasn’t really that long ago that Dick was making up stupid passwords for Bruce to guess. The password to the pillow fort Dick made for Bruce’s birthday was the binary nomenclature for a bat. The password Damian uses—used, fuck, used—for his phone was the king cobra.

Silence from the other end of the comm. Silence from the kid, too. Dick glances over, and sees he’s still hypnotized by the jaguar. He follows the child’s line of sight, and finds the jaguar staring straight at them. I am hungry, her eyes tell him. I have not felt another living being in so long that I will devour the next one I touch. I am so fucking starving and I want you like an organ taken out of your guts, I want to swallow you into a lanky-shaped hollow near my stomach, and maybe, Dick thinks, maybe she’ll name it “Agent 37” or “Nightwing” or possibly even “Robin.” But what I want most of all, she says with a flick of her tail and a twitch of her ears, is to rip out your bones and hold them, craft them, use them to wrench open the bars of this cursed cage so that I may run, and never return. I will take your bones with me, the jaguar promises, so you will be free as well.

The jaguar growls quietly, and Dick can somehow hear it from the balcony. Then, she flits away. Dick untenses in time with the boy next to him. He thinks of iron bars and bloody torsos and a time when he could wear his own face. He thinks of a boy, only a little taller than the one standing next to him, who would have kept him from ever giving in to Bruce’s demands to renounce his face to begin with.

(He thinks of Damian’s bloody torso, specifically, and thinks that he would let the jaguar carve open his gut and tear out his bloated bag of organs, if only she would give them to Damian. They would be more useful than his unknowable face.)

Tiger’s voice filters through the comm. “Package secure. Heading towards safehouse delta.”

The kid next to him sighs happily, again. “Pretty cool, isn’t she?”

Dick smiles down at him. “Very. What’s her name?”

The boy frowns, confusion on his face. “She doesn’t have a name. It’s better not to have one, I think.”

“Oh really?”

A nod from the child, more serious than Dick imagined “She did bad things. She killed people. That’s why they let me have her. And I think she’d like it better if I didn’t use her old name, the one that she had when she did the bad things. But I don’t want to give her a new name and have it be wrong! So she doesn’t have a name.”

“Do you think she likes that?” Dick asks. “Names are—names are important.”

“I don’t know,” the boy says, suddenly looking very unsure of himself. “But I think it’s better to not have a name than to have one that hurts you. Or to have one that doesn’t fit.”

Dick hums. Considers. Offers the boy another smile and straightens up in the way people do when they’re getting ready to leave. “I suppose you have a point, kid.”

The child nods. There are bruises in the tender skin under his red-rimmed eyes and his lips have scabs from his own teeth all over them. They’re so chapped, they’re nearly bleeding. Dick knows how much sleep children get after their parents are murdered in front of them. “Thank you for the jaguar facts,” Dick tells him, sincerely. “They made the night much more fun.”

The boy nods. Opens his mouth, closes it, then seems to make up his mind and opens it again. “Before you go,” he says, with all the hesitation he’s kept close and quiet this entire night, “can I—can I just have a hug? Please?”

And Dick, without hesitation, folds to his knees and opens his arms.

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@dickgraysonweek dick grayson week day 2: first responder au | “can i just have a hug? please?” | spies & secret agents

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taglist who will probably shoot on sight thinking i've risen from the dead: @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption @capricorn-stark @batshit-birds @buticaaba @comics-observer @newsical @queenofbooknerds @scattered-winter @amillionandonefandoms

#dickgraysonweek #someone know if this is long enough that i should post it on ao3 it's much longer than my normal crap and idk the protocol for ~1.5k fics #scribbles from the swamp #dick grayson #nightwing #agent 37 #dc #dick grayson fic #nightwing fic #agent 37 fic #dc fic

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