The Family of Bats (DRABBLES)

Gone With the Wind (Part 2)

Part 2: Dick.

WARNING: GRAPHIC, BLOOD, INJURIES, NIGHTMARES, YELLING

"I don't know how Dick survived living with that monster!" Jason growled, pacing in the kitchen, ranting to Alfred.

Alfred chuckled a little, "Master Richard had his moments as well."

"But he's gone now." Jason whispered in pain.

"I can remember a young man dying in this house before. Everyone in his family were very sorrow-filled. But it's a natural part of life. We all must die, Master Jason. Richard's time was just shorter then everyone else's." Alfred said, sadly.

"Why? Why take him? Why, Alfred?" Jason looked up, tears falling from his eyes.

"That, I cannot answer. The world sometimes just takes people. We won't know for sure why. But, let's not dwell on the sadness. Master Richard would want us to be happy. He always wanted everyone to be happy. That was his only wish." Alfred said.

"I love you, Alfred." Jason hugged Alfred tightly.

"And I, you, Jason." Alfred hugged Jason back, just as tightly.

"I miss him." Jason whispered.

"We all do." Alfred said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Bruuuuce." A voice called out. The voice was cracking and scratchy.

Bruce looked around in the dark.

But it was too dark to see anything.

"Bruuuuuuuce." The voice called out again, this time closer.

Suddenly, Bruce's hand hit a brick wall.

The brick wall was dirty with black bricks and splats of blood.

"Brruuccee." The voice was right there. Right behind him.

Bruce slowly turned around.

There stood a medium-sized man.

A familiar medium-sized man.

Black hair stuck up in all directs, speckles of blood, dandruff, and cement in it.

Skin as pale as a sheet of paper stood out on the man.

Once sky-bright eyes, now black with white cracks, like shattered glass. A haunted look sealed into the orbs.

Blood poured from a wound on his head, the blood flowing down one side of his face.

The head tilted.

"You did this." Dick said.

A pale, clawed hand came up.

"You killed me." The hand gripped Dick's neck in a tight grasp.

Bruce gasped awake, sitting up in his bed.

Dick wasn't there.

Oh gosh!

Dick wasn't there!

"What have I done?" Bruce asked himself, looking at his hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damian looked down.

In his hands he held the sharpest sword he owned.

The one he never used before.

Even though it was a tradition to sharped it every day with the poison.

He had decided, when he was given it, that he would leave this one for only special cases.

Like Richard Grayson's murderer.

Damian pulled the sword over the sharpening stone.

Yes.

It was ready.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim looked at all the charts in front of him.

It wasn't possible.

It just wasn't!

Everyone else who died had come back!

So why hasn't Dick yet?

"Tim." Jason said from the door.

"It's not possible. I mean, you came back, Kon did, Bruce did, hell even Black Mask did! Why hasn't he?" Tim thought out loud, rummaging through some papers.

Jason grabbed Tim's wrist, "Tim."

"It's not right! He's not here! He's supposed to be here!" Tim yelled.

"Tim!" Jason spoke louder.

"Why is he the only one that doesn't come back? Everyone else did!" Tim yelled.

"Tim!" Jason spoke louder yet.

"He NEEDS to! He NEEDS to come back! It's not right! Statistically, he should come back!" Tim said.

"TIM!" Jason yelled above Tim's.

Tim stopped and turned around.

His dark blue haunted eyes pierced Jason's dark blue orbs.

"He has to. I need him." Tim said.

"I'm sorry." Jason said.

Tim suddenly collapsed, crying out in pain.

"He's gone!"