1A/N This is a response to a challenge called killing a character once a month (2022). Thus in every single chapter (which is an unrelated one-shot), I will kill Dick Grayson. The characters and themes will be spelled out at the top since they vary between one-shots.
Relationship: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Characters: Tim Drake, Dick Grayson.
Themes; possession, angst, dying.
This one-shot is for January, February's will be up soon.
"No Dick!" Tim screamed. Just seconds ago he had been so relieved. So happy to see the familiarity the warmth come back into his brother's eyes. It had cut through the darkness and the pain from the wound in his side. More warmth was leaving. But that was before Dick had driven the knife into his chest. Tim ignored the liquid streaming out of his own wound to put pressure on Dick's. There was already moisture on his eyelashes from the same knife that had been driven into his side.
He couldn't die. He couldn't die. He had just gotten him back, Dick couldn't die.
"No, No, No," Tim pressed harder on the wound as red kept saturating the white shirt that was already speckled. Dick's eyes opened slightly even as his breathing started sounding wet. That wasn't good. Where was Bruce? Bruce had to be coming for him right? If Bruce was coming for him then he could help Dick right?
"I'm sorry that I hurt you." His older brother spoke weakly referencing the wound in his side. Tim knew enough about the human body to know that his brother had probably punctured a lung from the sound of his breathing. He needed help and he needed help now. Why wasn't anyone here yet?
"It wasn't you..." Tim insisted as he put pressure on the wound in the middle of a dirty, abandoned, old office building. "You shouldn't have done that. You shouldn't have done that."
"Had to stop it. Had to stop it. Was the only way I could stop it." Tim shook his head, even though he wasn't sure what he was disagreeing with exactly. He sniffled because he let one hand take a break from keeping pressure to check Dick's pulse and it was weak. It couldn't be weak. Dick was one of the strongest people he knew. He would be okay, wouldn't he? How couldn't he be okay?
"Couldn't let it hurt you anymore." He should have. He should have, he could have taken it. And even if he couldn't, it was better if he died than if Dick did to save him. Everyone needed Dick more. Dick held them all together, not Tim. Nobody needed Tim the way that they needed Dick.
His tears filled his eyes that he didn't have the hands to wipe away, so he tried furiously to blink them back. If this was the last time he might see Dick alive, he wanted to actually see him.
"I'm not worth it," Tim sobbed.
"You are always worth it," Dick said weakly but without hesitation like it was a fact. He couldn't be dying. He couldn't be. It didn't matter that his skin was getting pale. It didn't matter that his heart rate was slowing. It didn't matter that his shirt was getting more and more saturated in blood. He couldn't be.
"I love you. Tell them that I-That I-" Dick was losing the war he was fighting, as much as it hurt to even think of it. He could see it. He could see it. Tim nodded, he would, he would. They would probably never speak to him again, but he would. Dick's eyes closed and he went still. He couldn't help it when the tears came back again.
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