Chapter Text
It was out of the blue that Bruce realized that Dick’s medications were no longer working. After being on anti-anxiety pills, anti-psychotic pills, and medication for PTSD related symptoms for years, they were wearing off and becoming ineffective. And the rest of the Bat Family was witnessing the fallout of his mental state.
Sometimes Dick would wake up from terrible night terrors, screaming like he was dying. This often led to all his siblings, Alfred, and Bruce rushing into his room to wake him up. He would thrash and scream until he finally regained consciousness.
While the other bat kids were terrified to see Dick reacting like this to a nightmare, Bruce and Alfred knew things were to get worse.
And it did. Dick’s behaviors quickly changed, and his normal cheeriness dampened. He became anxious of things that seemed relatively normal, such as becoming suspicious of food that Alfred made for them and checking the Batcave at night many times for intruders. He also began to daydream without warning, sometimes not moving or responding for several minutes at a time. Not even Jason or Barbara’s loud attempts to get his attention could stop his daydreaming. After any of his family members got injured, he would fly into a panic and check them for injuries in an overreacting manor, mainly on Damian, Cassandra and Stephanie. He also appeared to be having occasional hallucinations, as Bruce and Tim had caught him talking to himself audibly when he thought he was alone.
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Alfred was concerned and told Bruce the obvious in his private quarters , “The effects of combination exposure to the Fear Toxin and Joker Venom are making the medication that Master Dick takes ineffective. We need to have stronger ones formulated.”
Bruce sighed and said, “The ones he was taking were the strongest of their kind. Right now, there's nothing stronger for him to take. And that's concerning.”
Alfred asked the obvious, “Why is he more affected than you are, or any of the other Bat Family members for that matter, Master Bruce?”
Bruce pulled a file out from his drawer, with Dick’s medical history inside of it, “Simple, his entire brain development was affected by the toxins. While the others may have begun fighting young, none of the others fought alongside me as long as Dick has. And no one has been exposed to these toxins at the magnitude that he has, as he's spent most of his life fighting in Gotham. The toxins give the user extreme anxiety, psychotic symptoms, post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms, hallucinations, and paranoia. We need to order a stronger drug to be reformulated, perhaps with small amounts of anti-venom in them-”
The door to his office sprung open and Tim ran in, pale as a ghost, “Bruce! Bruce, help! It's Dick...he's acting really weird!” The three of them rushed down to the cave and were met with an unnerving sight.
Dick was on the ground, holding himself and laughing uncontrollably like the Joker. A painful smile was spread across his face and he appeared to be crying. The others could only watch in absolute horror as Dick convulsed like he was having a seizure and laughing like the Joker.
Bruce was at his side in moments, himself seeming unsure of what to do. Dick had the most severe reaction to the toxins that he had ever witnessed, and without the medication that he had been on for years, he wasn't sure how Dick’s mind had gotten so out of hand. Bruce administered a strong dose of Antivenom, which halted the laughing but not the seizure. His loved ones could only watch as he convulsed for the next several minutes.
When the seizure was over, Jason made the call. “I'm calling him . Dick has to be with him right now.” When he was met with protests, he held firm, “Dick’s in no position to be Nightwing right now. He needs to stay in a safe place with someone until we can stop these fits! I know you guys hate him, I do too, but at this point, we can't trust anyone else!” Jason’s eyes went neon green for a moment, a reminder of his death and reincarnation from the Lazarus pit. Once he was angry, there was no stopping him, and they all knew it. Besides, he made a valid point and Bruce knew that this was likely the best course of action.
It took a matter of hours before Slade, AKA Deathstroke and Dick’s estranged husband, came to pick him up. It was the last thing Bruce wanted to do, but Dick needed to get away from Gotham until the new medication was developed. Slade was the only one they could trust for this.
Dick was in a fit of paranoia when Slade came, asking, “D-Don't tell me you rode your motorcycle to get here! Without a helmet too...what if you get hurt and get brain damage! What if I get brain damage?! You might die if you ride so fast! No! I love you, I don't want you to get hurt!” He ran to Slade as a sobbing mess and hugged him. He began to have a short laughing tic, which caused Slade to raise an eyebrow. He'd never seen his husband act like this.
Bruce sighed, “He's been like this for...a few days. But after he had this seizure...I think he's better with you right now, as much as I hate to admit.”
Slade sighed and asked his lover, “Geez, you decide to move home and this is what happens to you? You need to spend more time at my place, little bird.” Slade was petting his husband’s head, trying to stop him from shaking and laughing.
Alfred came back to them, holding two motorcycle helmets, “I think it would be best you both wear these. I doubt that Master Dick will let you go without them.” Slade put one on Dick first before putting one on himself.
Slade grumbled, “I haven’t worn one of these in a decade, minimum.” Alfred also gave him Dick’s current medications, several needles of anti-venom, and anti seizure medication in a bag for his time with his husband.
The other Bat Family kids came to see Dick leave, and Jason made it clear, “You better not let him out of your sight. You promised on your wedding day to be with him thick and thin, and you better keep up to it!” Slade chuckled and put Dick on the back of his motorcycle. Then he got on the front.
Dick wrapped his arms around him, “Mmm...forgot how nice it felt to hug you.” The ride was a smooth two hour excursion to one of Slade’s safehouses on the outskirts of Gotham. Dick had held on the entire time, falling in and out of consciousness and laughing fits. Slade parked the bike and carried his husband into the safehouse. Luckily, this one was neat and well-stocked, so Dick wasn’t going to have paranoid fits about the cleanliness.
Dick yawned, saying, “Slade…? You’re staying right?”
Slade nodded as he took Dick to the bedroom, “Yep, pretty bird. I will stay by your side until you can go home.” Dick turned and held his husband like a pillow, ignoring the bit of bite in Slade’s voice. He already knew that once Dick recovered, they would separate again, as Bruce wanted. Until then, he pet the younger man’s jet-black hair and talked him to sleep.