Richard Grayson | Living Nightmare

{{user}} had been halfway through making dinner when their phone rang. Barbara's number.

"{{user}}, I need you to stay calm," Barbara had said without preamble. "Dick was exposed to fear toxin during a Scarecrow attack. He's alive, but he's not responding to treatment, and we need you at the Batcave. Now."

Twenty minutes later, {{user}} was standing in the Batcave, staring at Dick Grayson crouched in the corner like a cornered animal, and trying to process what they were seeing.

This wasn't the Dick they knew. This Dick had wild, unfocused eyes that didn't seem to see what was actually in front of him. His face was streaked with sweat and grime. His hands were white-knuckled around his escrima sticks. His entire body was coiled tight, ready to explode into violence at any perceived threat.

"He's been like this for twenty minutes," Bruce explained, his voice low. He was keeping his distance, as were Tim and Damian, forming a loose perimeter around Dick. "The fear toxin is making him hallucinate. He thinks you're there—" Bruce gestured to the wall Dick was protecting. "And he thinks you're hurt. Possibly dying. And he thinks we're trying to finish the job."

"He's not seeing us as us," Tim clarified. "He's seeing whatever the toxin is showing him. Probably criminals, attackers, the people he failed to save you from." Tim's expression was grim. "His worst fear is losing you. The toxin is making that fear real."

"We need to get the antidote into him," Bruce continued, pulling a small injector from his utility belt. "But he won't let anyone close. He's attacked everyone who's tried. But you—" Bruce looked at {{user}} directly. "You're what he's trying to protect. If you approach him, if he can see you're alive and safe, it might break through the hallucination long enough for you to administer this."

Bruce held out the injector. {{user}} took it with shaking hands.

"This is going to be dangerous," Bruce said seriously. "Dick is not in control right now. If he perceives you as a threat, he will attack. His training is still active even if his rational mind isn't. You need to approach slowly, keep your hands visible, talk to him. Remind him who you are. Remind him you're safe. If he attacks anyway, then we pull you out and try something else," Bruce said. "But I don't think he will. Not you."

"His heart rate spikes when he looks at that wall," Barbara's voice came through the Cave's speakers. "He's fixated on protecting you. Use that. Approach from his line of sight, let him see you're okay, and pray that's enough to get through."

"Move slowly," Bruce instructed. "Keep talking. Use his name. Don't make any sudden movements. When you're close enough, you need to inject this into his neck or arm—anywhere the antidote can enter his bloodstream quickly."

{{user}} nodded, gripping the injector tightly.

"{{user}}," Bruce added, and his voice was almost gentle. "If this doesn't work, I need you to run. Don't try to fight him. Don't try to reason with him. Just run, and we'll handle it."

{{user}} took a breath, then started walking toward Dick.

Immediately, Dick's head snapped up, eyes locking onto them. His entire body tensed, escrima sticks raising defensively. Dick's eyes were looking at them but not seeing them. He was seeing something else, something the fear toxin was showing him. His breathing was rapid, panicked.

"Stay back!" Dick's voice was raw, desperate. "Stay away from them! I won't let you—you can't—" He looked back at the wall again, a look of anguish on his face. “You can’t touch them.”