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Only One Zombie Plan

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“So, what's your zombie plan, Grayson?”

The joke had been going around the department for a while now, and Dick had heard just about every answer he could stand, some of them more than once. He was too close to losing his temper and knocking out the next person that mentioned zombies. Rohrbach had deflected for him a few times already, not asking him why it bothered him but helping him out anyway because that was what partners did.

Dick didn't know where he got the smile from, how he managed to summon it, but he did, leaning back in his chair. “Which one?”

“One what?”

“Zombie plan,” Dick went on with a false cheerfulness. “I've actually got over fifty of them, you know. At least ten of them involve using you as bait, a body shield, or a weapon. I'm definitely letting them eat you. In one of them, I purposely infect myself and join the other side. Then I eat you.”

“There's something wrong with you, Grayson,” the other detective muttered, and Dick shrugged, letting him walk away. He added a few more notes to his paperwork and grabbed his coat, more than ready to get out of here.


When he closed the door to his apartment, he leaned against it and closed his eyes.

Zombie plans.

Like that was really something to joke about.

He'd seen too many things close to that in his time as a hero, because in his world, there wasn't much that hadn't been done before, no matter how weird or impossible it might be. He knew of a man who should be a zombie, someone who should have been dead centuries ago but went down into a pit and came back alive again.

He wasn't just angry because he knew zombies could be real.

“I lied, Jaybird,” he whispered into the empty apartment. “There's only one plan for the zombie apocalypse.”

Seeing his brother again. Dick didn't care if Jason came back as a mindless reanimation. He knew that was wrong, but he wanted to see him again, needed to. He needed to say so many things to him, to set right. He would apologize for not being there, for not helping, for allowing it to happen... He would tell Jason how much he'd meant to him, how he'd loved having a brother. How he missed him.

Even telling those truths to a zombie would feel better than the aching knowledge that he could never say them to Jason. His brother was dead.

Dick slid to a seat on the floor. He wanted a zombie apocalypse, damn it. He wanted his brother back.