33A/N: Um, originally posted this on my tumblr. Then certain people asked why I didn't post it here. So here it is. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO TITLE THIS THIIIING.
...but, enjoy? :'D
The first thing Damian thinks when he comes to is that, wherever he is, the lighting sucks. He squints and tries to make out his surroundings, but everything's hazy and his mind is all fogged up, making it hard for him to think. Damian's pretty sure he's been drugged, and he's still struggling to figure out just where he is when the door opens and Dick enters the room.
"Hey, Damian. How—how are you feeling?" he chokes out.
Damian shakes his head a little, trying to clear it. "Tired," he mumbles. "Want to sleep."
"No!" And Dick sounds so panicked, so afraid, that Damian's shocked into awareness as he wonders what could possibly be wrong.
"Stay awake," Dick pleads, "for a little while longer."
Damian is confused, but he agrees anyways. "Okay."
Dick looks ready to break any second. Damian takes one look at his face, then one look at the room he's in. It's a hospital room. Everything clicks into place.
"I'm dying, aren't I." It should have been a question, but it comes out as flat as any statement.
"No—Damian, no. Don't say that." Dick moves to stand by the bed. "The doctors all say you're not going to make it," he tells him. "But they don't know you. You're strong. You're tough. You'll be fine."
The only person he's trying to convince is himself.
Damian sighs. "Even I'm only human in the end, Grayson."
"Do you remember what happened?" Dick asks, hesitantly, and Damian nods. He remembers well enough. He remembers a gun that was really just a distraction—albeit a damn painful one—and a concealed dagger. Aimed at Batman.
"Damian, I'm so sorry."
"Tt. What are you sorry for?"
"That attack was aimed at me. You shouldn't have..."
"If I die protecting Batman, then I've done my duty as Robin."
"No. That's not your duty. That's not what's supposed to happen. You're supposed to become Batman. You're supposed to be a hero."
"I'm an assassin. We're not meant to be heroes."
"..."
He's tired, but something tells him not to fall asleep yet. Dick's not ready to let him go. So he waits.
Damian had always imagined that, when he died, it'd be in the midst of battle. Fighting. But not this. Not laying in a hospital, just waiting to die. It gave him room to think about a lot of things he'd rather have never thought about at all.
"Grayson," he says.
"Yes?"
"Do you believe in life after death?" He asks it off-handedly, as if it were just a random thought on a normal day. Not as if he were about to find out.
Dick swallows. "I don't know, Damian. But if there is a heaven, I'm sure you'll go there. I'm sure it'll be a nice place. Very beautiful. You'll be happy there."
Damian doesn't have the heart to tell Dick that the only place he's ever been happy was by his side.
"Grayson," he says again, his voice growing fainter by the second. "Will you lie to me?"
"Lie?" Dick echoes, voice cracking, just a bit. He probably thinks that Damian wants him to tell him that everything will be okay, that he's going to be fine. But that's not what Damian wants to hear. He already knows he's going to die.
"Tell me... Tell me you're proud of me."
"...Oh, Damian. I don't have to lie to tell you that," Dick says. "I'm always proud of you."
Damian can almost believe it's true, and he sighs.
Dick takes his hand and squeezes it gently. "Sleep now, my little Robin," he whispers. "You've earned your rest."
And Damian obediently closes his eyes and feels the blanket of darkness wrapping around him.