Chapter Text
Swirling pools of water lapped at Dick’s feet as the tide steadily rose. He watched the waves roll onto the shore, breaking against the rocks in the shallows. One splashed against his legs, soaking his jeans, but Dick didn’t move. He couldn’t. He’d sunk deep into the sand, frozen in place.
A large wave crashed into him, knocking Dick onto his back. He gasped as he struggled to keep his head above the water. Panic seized him, and he thrashed wildly, accidentally swallowing a mouthful of ocean spray.
His body sank like a stone to the ocean floor, completely submerged. Above him stood a blurry figure, watching him slowly drown. Dick reached upward, begging for help, but the person couldn’t hear him.
His chest burned. He wouldn’t be able to hold his breath for much longer.
The air escaped his mouth in a stream of bubbles. He’d run out of time. Dick closed his eyes and let the tide pull him under. Inky blackness swallowed him whole.
Slowly, Dick opened his eyes to the sight of his bedroom ceiling. He lay flat on his back, naked and drenched in sweat. His head felt hazy, as though it too had been submerged underwater.
Dick wiped the stray tears from his cheeks, ignoring the dampness on his pillow. The pressure on his chest shifted, followed by a soft whine. Haley, his twelve-week-old puppy, licked his face, having woken when he did. Dick blindly reached out and pulled her closer. She wriggled in his grip, squirming to get free.
“Mornin’, Haley,” Dick said gently.
Haley wagged her tail before leaping off the bed and darting towards her food bowl. She yapped once, then glanced back at Dick with pleading eyes.
“I guess it’s breakfast time.”
Dick sat up, letting the blanket slide down his torso. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed, then paused. Something felt… off.
Haley whined, sensing his distress.
“It’s okay, girl—” Dick started, only to stop short.
An intense pressure pierced his head. It felt as though someone had driven an ice pick straight through his eye socket.
Dick scrunched his eyes shut, blinded by the pain. Haley barked, adding to the chaos. The noise echoed in his ears, worsening the pounding in his skull. Before he could quieten her, his body stiffened. He froze completely.
Dick tried to lift an arm. Nothing. He tried wiggling his toes. Still nothing. He couldn’t even turn his head.
What was going on? Why couldn’t he move?
Then a series of images flooded his mind faster than he could process them. Dick recognised one of the recurring faces. Jason.
His breathing quickened as everything came rushing back: the break-in at his apartment, the strange, off-putting behaviour, the spiked tea, and the… assault. Dick shoved the memories aside before they could fully surface. Dwelling on them for too long would only send him spiralling.
Jason had infected him with an unknown entity, a being that called itself the Apollis. Dick had never heard of it before, not even in passing. He didn’t know whether it was artificial or natural, an alien life form or something born on Earth. All he knew was that it had an uncanny talent for worming its way into his mind, and that he wasn’t the first—nor would he be the last—to be infected.
It had been a few days since his brother left, disappearing to who-knew-where and leaving Dick alone to pick up the pieces. But that wasn’t a fair assessment, was it? Jason had been mind-controlled at the time, forcibly puppeteered by the Apollis to do its bidding. Dick didn’t know how long he’d been compromised. Days, maybe weeks? It was impossible to tell.
The more he thought about it, the more anxious he became. How many others were under the Apollis’ control? How widespread was its influence? With the Justice League temporarily disbanded, the responsibility would fall to the Titans, but what if they were already compromised? What if Dick had been the last one taken?
There had to be something he could do to stop it. Some weakness he could exploit. He just hadn’t figured out what it was yet.
As Dick contemplated what to do next, his body twitched, then moved against his will. He watched his limbs push him upright and carry him off the mattress towards the kitchen. The sensation felt strange, similar to dissociating but less detached, as though his body had been switched to autopilot.
Passing the hallway mirror, Dick caught a glimpse of his reflection. His movements weren’t jerky or uncoordinated. They were smooth and natural. Perfectly mimicking his usual mannerisms.
It could fool anyone. Maybe even Batman himself.
Dick grabbed his phone from the kitchen counter, where he’d left it charging overnight. A brief pressure in his head brought forth the memory of his passcode. The Apollis forced him to scroll to Damian’s contact and type out a message.
Dick
Hey D, are you up for patrolling tonight?
It was eerie how well the Apollis mimicked his texting style, using the same inflections he always did. Even more concerning was that Dick hadn’t intended to visit Damian. Usually, they only spent time together on weekends, both too busy with school and work during the week.
Three dots appeared on the screen, indicating Damian was typing.
Damian
Of course. I wasn’t aware you’d be in Gotham.
I’ll inform Father at once.
Dick
Awesome! I’ll pick you up after school
Damian
Do not be late.
Dick hovered over the on-screen keyboard. He needed to warn Damian, to tell him about the mind control.
His thumb twitched.
Pressure exploded through his head, sharp and sudden, forcing the phone from his grip. It hit the floor with a crack.
Dick let out a shaky breath. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t warn Damian. The Apollis were too powerful; their grip on his mind impossible to break.
Dick picked up his phone and placed it face down on the counter. As he turned away, the tension in his body abruptly receded, leaving him unhindered once more. The Apollis had gotten what they wanted. He’d been used.
Fear gripped his chest. What did they want with Damian? Why force Dick to patrol with him?
A soft whine at his feet interrupted his spiralling thoughts. Haley pressed her head against his leg, trying to comfort him. Dick reached down and stroked her fur.
“Good girl.”
If Dick couldn’t send a message, he’d have to try another method. He only needed one person to notice something was wrong, and in a family as paranoid as his, it hopefully wouldn’t take long.
Dick hurried against the clock as he prepared for work. There wasn’t enough time for breakfast, so he’d have to eat something on the bus instead. Fortunately, the City Loop arrived every fifteen minutes and stopped just down the road from his apartment complex.
On his way out, he nearly tripped over Haley. She was curled up in her dog bed, tired from their earlier walk. Dick had made a habit of taking her out every morning. It helped curb her more destructive tendencies, especially when he had to leave her alone for long stretches.
He gave her a quick pat, picked up his messenger bag from the couch, and locked the door behind him.
In the hallway, Mrs Lang—a notoriously nosy elderly neighbour—stopped him on his way to the elevator.
“Oh, Richard, I’m glad I caught you.”
“Good morning, Mrs Lang. Sorry, but I don’t have time to stop and—”
She spoke over him, ignoring his silent plea to end the conversation.
“I wanted to ask you about the strange noises coming from your apartment a couple of nights ago.”
Dick leaned against the wall, repeatedly pressing the elevator button. “Oh? What kind of noises?”
“I’m not sure. They were muffled. But if your dog starts yapping like that again, I’ll have to report you.”
She was insufferable, as usual.
“I’ll do my best to keep her quiet.”
Behind him, the elevator dinged, and Dick quickly stepped inside. “That’s me. It was nice talking to you,” he lied.
Dick wasn’t entirely sure what noises she meant. It could have been any number of things, not necessarily Haley. Ever since the Apollis had taken over his body, things hadn’t exactly been normal.
After hailing the bus, Dick took a seat near the front beside a man dressed in business attire. The City Loop stopped at a major intersection, where he’d need to catch a connecting bus to the northern suburbs. Until then, he had time to spare. Dick pulled out his laptop and checked his emails.
Over the years, Dick had worked numerous jobs, but none felt as rewarding as the one he held now. When he first arrived in Blüdhaven, he joined the BPD as a beat cop. After that fell through, he returned to his roots and taught gymnastics. From there, he qualified as a social worker, dedicating his time to helping at-risk youth.
It had taken some trial and error, but he’d finally found his calling.
His first case of the day involved a core group meeting at an elementary school. They were scheduled to review the progress of a child protection plan. The child in question had suffered emotional harm after witnessing their mother’s alcohol abuse.
After receiving his visitor’s badge, Dick followed the secretary to a private meeting room. Thankfully, he wasn’t the last to arrive. The school nurse had been called away, so the meeting was postponed until she returned.
Looking around the room, Dick recognised a few familiar faces. Darrell, a child protection officer, and Jones, an adult mental health social worker, greeted him as he took a seat.
“Cutting it close this morning, Grayson,” Darrell teased.
Dick often partnered with Child Protection Services and, as a result, knew most of the officers by name. If he remembered correctly, Darrell was well-respected in his field.
“Took the scenic route this morning. Nothing beats the early fog,” Dick joked.
Darrell snorted. “And here I thought you’d slept in.”
“Me? Sleep in? Never.”
Once the nurse arrived and the meeting properly began, all of Dick’s worries faded into the background. If there was one thing he excelled at, it was compartmentalising.
He listened to the child, her mother, and then the school nurse before he and his colleagues discussed the resources available to the family. It made things easier that the mother was cooperative and genuinely wanted to improve things for her daughter. Acknowledging she had a problem was an important first step, but she still needed to commit to an outpatient program and address the root cause of her alcohol dependency.
As Dick packed away his laptop, a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over him. He tried to stifle a yawn, but Darrell noticed. Approaching him, he placed a sympathetic hand on Dick’s shoulder.
“Are you sure you’re getting enough sleep, Grayson? You look dead on your feet.”
Dick hesitated. As a public-sector worker, Darrell had connections within the Department of Metahuman Affairs. He could arrange for experts to examine Dick for external influences, maybe even rid him of the Apollis for good.
“I need—”
Agonising pain pierced Dick’s skull. He cleared his throat.
“You’ve caught me. Had a bit of a late night. Movie marathon.”
The Apollis had taken control, dictating his words for him.
Darrell shook his head. “I’ve got no idea how you do it. I’m always in bed by ten at the latest.” He grabbed his bag and headed for the door. “Try to get some rest, Grayson.”
Dick swallowed down his frustration. Getting angry wouldn’t help anyone.
“I’ll try. Thanks, Darrell.”
Getting back on the bus, Dick travelled from one school to another. Halfway there, his phone buzzed with a new message from Bruce.
Bruce
Damian mentioned you’re in Gotham today.
I hadn’t realised you were planning to visit.
It was Bruce’s roundabout way of probing for information. Dick’s fingers moved of their own accord, typing out a response against his will.
Dick
One of my cases involves split custody.
I’m visiting the mother in Gotham this afternoon.
Even if Bruce violated his privacy—as he often did—he’d have difficulty disproving the excuse. Dick had several ongoing cases, many involving split custody or limited parental contact. It was entirely plausible for him to travel between cities whenever work required it.
He arrived at his next appointment ten minutes early and sat alone in the front office. Due to the severity of the case, a police officer had been assigned to assist with the investigation.
“Well, look who it is. Ex-officer Grayson, right here in the flesh,” a voice sneered behind him. “Never thought I’d run into you again.”
Dick turned towards the familiar voice. Officer Anderson glared back at him. Last year, Anderson had slipped through the cracks, avoiding a court-mandated inquiry that sent thirty-seven of his fellow officers to prison and forced another twelve into retirement. To say there was bad blood between them would’ve been an understatement.
“Officer Anderson. I see you’re as cheerful as ever,” Dick replied dryly. “I assume you’ve been assigned to the Moore case?”
“What’s that to you?”
“I happen to be the case manager. So, if we’re done with the pleasantries, let’s get started.”
Anderson grumbled under his breath but complied. Dick knocked gently on the door before stepping inside.
Waiting for them were Noah Moore, a thirteen-year-old boy, and his distressed parents. Dick introduced himself and Officer Anderson before explaining the investigation procedure.
“With your permission, I’d like to speak with Noah alone. Is that alright?” Dick asked.
“If that’s what you need to do,” Mrs Moore replied. She reached out to comfort her son, but stopped short. “Will you be alright, sweetheart?”
Noah didn’t look up from the table. “It’s fine, Mom.”
“We’ll be right outside the door, okay?”
Mr and Mrs Moore left the room, quietly closing the door behind them. Dick placed a small video camera on the table, angling it towards Noah.
“Hey, Noah. Is it okay if I sit down and talk with you?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
Dick nodded towards the camera. “Just so you know, I’m recording our conversation. Do you understand why we’re here today?”
“Yes...” Noah briefly glanced up at Dick. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get in trouble.” His shoulders curved inward, subconsciously trying to make himself smaller. “My uncle, he… he’s a good person.”
Dick’s chest tightened.
“Good people don’t hurt others,” he replied gently.
His heart ached for the boy. Noah had endured years of sexual abuse at his uncle’s hands, only for it to come to light recently.
“This is your first day back at school, right? How’ve your classes been?”
“Fine.”
“The school counsellor mentioned you visited her this morning. How’d that go?”
Noah shrugged.
Dick changed tactics, hoping to coax him out of his shell. “You know, it was really brave of you to speak up. It takes a lot of strength to do what you did.”
Noah lifted his head, carefully considering Dick’s words. “I don’t feel brave.”
“Then how does it feel?” Dick prompted gently.
Noah glanced towards Anderson before looking back at Dick. “Like I ruined everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“I-I didn’t think anyone would believe me. I had no idea he’d get arrested.” Noah scratched absentmindedly at the desk, chipping at the wood. “He made me feel special. I don’t want to lose him.”
A familiar voice whispered in Dick’s ear, dragging old memories to the surface—
“You’re wanted. Desired. You’ll make it easy for us.”
—Dick blinked hard, forcing himself back into the present.
“Those are all valid feelings, Noah. You’re allowed to feel conflicted.”
“Sometimes I wish I hadn’t said anything at all...” Noah closed his eyes and fell silent.
“Speaking up was the right thing to do,” Dick assured him.
Noah looked down at the table, unable to meet his eyes. He still hadn’t fully grasped what had happened to him.
Have you? thought Dick.
Images of Jason flashed through Dick’s mind. Suddenly, he was back in his apartment, pinned down against his will. His own desperate cries echoed in his ears—
“Jason, stop! Don’t do this!”
—Dick’s chest tightened painfully.
Not now. Not this memory.
He was losing his grip on reality.
“You planning on asking any more questions, Grayson? Or are we done here?” Anderson snarked.
He hadn’t realised he’d stopped talking. How long had he spaced out for?
“No, sorry. I was just…” Dick cleared his mind, forcing himself to refocus on the task at hand. He refused to crack. Not in the middle of a case.
“Now, Noah. Have you spoken to anyone else since your initial report?”
Noah shook his head.
“How would you feel about speaking with a therapist?” Dick asked.
“I’m not sure…”
“Everyone needs support from time to time. I think you’d find it helpful.”
Noah hesitated before giving a small nod. “Yeah... okay, if you think it’ll help.”
“I do. I’ll organise a referral with your parents.”
Dick wrapped up the conversation, assuring Noah that he’d be available if he needed anything. He switched off the video camera and slipped it into his messenger bag.
“I’ll go get your parents. Hang tight.”
Mr and Mrs Moore waited patiently in the hallway, leaning against the wall. At the sound of the door opening, they turned towards Dick.
“Thanks for your patience,” he said. “There are just a couple of things I’d like to discuss with you.”
Dick emphasised the importance of getting Noah into therapy and provided the family with a list of recommended therapists. Although the police had arrested the uncle and removed the immediate threat, Noah still needed ongoing support.
Mrs Moore sniffled as her husband placed a gentle hand on her back.
“We had no idea that—” Her voice cracked. “—that my brother could do something like that. If only we’d noticed sooner.”
Dick’s expression softened with understanding. “You’ve got to stay strong. Noah’s very vulnerable right now, and he needs your support. I’ll be here to help every step of the way, so please don’t hesitate to reach out.”
Mrs Moore wiped at her eyes, composing herself.
“You’re right. Noah needs us.”
Dick opened the door and guided them back inside. Noah hadn’t moved. He sat with his head lowered, unable to face his parents.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” Dick said. “I’ll talk to you later, Noah.”
Noah continued staring at the table, completely withdrawn. Dick understood just how difficult the road ahead would be.
Outside in the hallway, away from the family, Dick turned to Anderson. “I’ll send the department a copy of the footage along with my statement.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, Grayson,” Anderson scoffed. “Some of us have actual work to do.”
He shoulder-checked Dick as he stormed towards the exit.
Dick sighed. Some people never changed, no matter how many second chances they were given.
As three o’clock approached, Dick drove over Chen Bridge, making his way into Gotham City. He ducked and weaved through traffic, avoiding the more congested roads.
Gotham Academy loomed in the distance, surrounded by beautifully landscaped gardens and hauntingly elegant architecture.
Dick slowed as he reached the front gates, joining the long queue of waiting vehicles. A pair of security guards ushered him inside and directed him toward the pick-up zone. He parked his bike behind a Mercedes-Benz, unintentionally sticking out like a sore thumb.
Nervous, Dick scanned the grounds in search of Damian. He spotted him sitting under a tree, with several classmates gathered nearby. As Dick approached, he lifted a hand in greeting, immediately drawing the attention of both students and faculty alike.
The whispers started the moment he removed his helmet.
“Who’s that?”
“Isn’t that Richard Grayson?”
“He’s so cool!”
“Did you see his motorbike!?”
Dick ignored them, long accustomed to the attention that came with being a Wayne. Most people didn’t recognise him without a suit, but as a former Gotham Academy student, he remained a familiar figure around campus.
“Hey Dami, how was school?” Dick asked.
“Tedious.”
“Surely you enjoyed at least one class?”
Damian scowled, perfectly mimicking the all-too-familiar glare of his father.
Dick raised his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.”
Behind them, a group of girls whispered loudly amongst themselves, giggling as they stared in Dick’s direction. One of them approached Damian, nudging his arm.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” she asked, openly eyeing Dick.
Damian’s scowl deepened, thoroughly unimpressed by the interruption. “Why? You already know who he is.” He turned his back on her. “Let’s go.”
The girl stormed off, muttering “rude” under her breath.
Dick walked beside Damian towards his bike, his mind racing. The Apollis had arranged this meeting. It wanted him to patrol with Damian. But why? And why Damian specifically?
A familiar pressure built at the back of his skull. The Apollis probed at his thoughts, ready to intervene the second he attempted anything. Dick clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay silent.
“You're quiet today,” Damian observed. He studied Dick carefully from the corner of his eye. “Usually you would’ve talked my head off by now.”
Dick screamed silently inside his own mind, trying to warn Damian about the mind control. He opened his mouth, but the Apollis cut him off. Instead, it forced him to lie.
“It’s nothing to worry about, Dami. I’ve just been dealing with a difficult case, that’s all.”
Damian’s eyes lit up, the same way they always did whenever he was presented with a challenging puzzle. “A Nightwing case?” he asked.
“No, just a run-of-the-mill work case. Split custody, if you must know.”
Damian instantly lost interest. “Oh.”
“Hey, you’re the one who asked,” Dick teased.
He ruffled Damian’s hair, earning himself a sharp slap to the wrist.
“And I regret it already.”
Dick tossed him the spare helmet before climbing onto his bike. His head throbbed painfully, tension building behind his eyes. Damian slid on behind him, gripping Dick’s waist as they rode back to Bristol in silence.
When they arrived at the Manor, Damian immediately beelined for Bruce’s study.
“Woah, what’s the rush?” Dick asked. “It’s not even four o’clock yet.”
The longer he delayed patrol, the more time he had to figure out what the Apollis wanted.
Damian raised a sceptical eyebrow. “I assumed you’d want to train together. Aren’t you always lecturing me about practice?”
“Hey!” Dick scoffed, feigning offence. “Don’t you have homework or something to finish first?”
“…No.”
“Uh-huh,” Dick smirked. “Tell you what, if you finish your homework, we can practice whatever you want together. Sound fair?”
“Fine.” Damian shot him a cheeky grin. “But I’m choosing swordsmanship.”
Dick groaned. He should’ve seen that coming.
In the main study, Damian adjusted the hands of the grandfather clock, unlocking the hidden panel with a soft click. Together, they descended the stone staircase into the Batcave, the entrance sealing shut behind them automatically.
Damian pulled over a chair and retrieved his laptop from his school bag. While he worked on his assignment, Dick settled in front of the Batcomputer. It was one of the most advanced systems in the world, connected to countless databases and archives. If he were lucky, there might be something on the Apollis hidden somewhere in its files.
Dick opened the search bar and hovered over the keyboard. He managed to type “Ap” before an intense pain slammed into his skull.
He lurched backwards, struggling to stay upright.
Clenching his jaw, Dick forced his trembling hand towards the keyboard and tried again. Slowly, painstakingly, he typed the rest of the name. But just as he reached for the enter key, a vision flashed across his eyes.
Broken shards of glass littered the floor, cutting into Dick’s back. He rolled onto his side, struggling to steady his blurred vision. He’d been concussed.
Across the room, beside a shattered display case, Damian fought Heretic.
“…Mother. Call off your monster,” Damian shouted at the absent Talia.
When no answer came, Damian grabbed a crossbow and fired. The bolt embedded itself deep in Heretic’s chest, splattering blood across the floor. A perfect shot.
Enraged, Heretic retaliated by hurling Damian to the ground. The two grappled violently, trading punches and kicks as each fought to overpower the other.
Dick struggled to stand, fighting through the blood loss. He had to reach Damian. He had to help him.
“Coward!” Damian spat, launching a glob of blood towards his clone’s eyes.
Heretic seized Damian and slammed him against the wall hard enough to crack the stone. Fear flashed across Damian’s face, making him look painfully young. Every bit the eleven-year-old child he still was.
“…Call him off at once… Mother…”
Dick forced himself forward, ignoring the blood soaking through his uniform. He had to— he had to—
Heretic drove a blade through Damian’s chest. Instantly ending his life.
“NO!!” Dick screamed.
“Richard? Hello!? Are you listening?”
Dick blinked.
He was sitting at the Batcomputer, hands hovering over the keyboard.
What had…?
He turned towards Damian, forcing an easy smile onto his face. “Sorry. You were saying something?”
“I asked if you were alright. You stopped moving.”
“I’m fine. Just deep in thought.”
Damian rolled his eyes. “Well, don’t strain yourself.”
Dick swivelled back towards the Batcomputer, his heart hammering in his chest.
What the hell was that? Why had he relived Damian’s death?
The search bar blinked on the screen, waiting for him to press enter. Dick cautiously reached for the keyboard.
His fingers moved against his will.
Instead of pressing enter, the Apollis forced him to erase “Apollis” from the search bar and replace it with the “Department of Extranormal Operations”. The organisation monitored Metahuman activity alongside alien and supernatural incidents, often acting as a support branch for the superhero community.
Dick clicked through known liaisons, compiling a list of names, addresses, and departmental roles.
Was this why he’d been brought here? To gather information on a dozen or so agents?
Damian slammed his laptop shut the second he finished his homework. Bursting with energy, he sprang from his chair and headed straight for the weapon racks.
“Hurry up, Richard!”
He browsed through the blades, inspecting each one carefully. “Let’s go with... scimitars.”
Damian grabbed a pair of curved swords before tossing one through the air.
Dick caught it cleanly by the hilt and gave the blade an experimental twirl. It felt perfectly balanced in his hand.
“Tape up and get on the mats,” he instructed.
After warming up, Dick and Damian circled one another, ready to engage. Damian made the first move, thrusting his scimitar forward. His blade crashed against the flat of Dick’s sword.
The longer they trained, the better Dick felt. His stance loosened, allowing him to properly enjoy the fight. Damian struck again, slashing downward. Dick deflected the strike and twisted smoothly to the side.
Then, without warning, the pressure in his head intensified.
Dick watched in horror as his body lunged forward with enough force to maim.
A vision of a Damian bloodied and broken flashed through his mind. Dick adjusted his grip at the last second, redirecting the strike. The scimitar sliced across Damian’s arm, drawing a thin line of blood.
Damian stepped back, momentarily stunned by the ruthlessness behind the attack. A second later, he schooled his expression, masking the shock.
“Cutting it a little close, Richard.”
“I thought you liked a challenge?” Dick teased weakly, though his heart wasn’t in it. He’d almost hurt Damian.
“Tt. You call that a challenge?”
Damian lunged again, swinging his sword in a wide arc. Their spar resumed, but this time Dick focused entirely on defence. He couldn’t risk hurting his brother… or worse.
The Apollis’ message was clear.
If Dick didn’t cooperate, Damian would pay the price.