Thirteen

Chapter 22 - Hunt

He was staring at the ceiling.

The room was pitch dark and Dick was laying on top of a lumpy mattress. The mattress was thrown on the ground with a thin blanket and a flat pillow. Slade had mentioned much earlier in their trip that he did not have the proper accommodations but Dick hadn't been paying much attention to him.

Slade had not tended to any of the wounds and instead left Dick isolated in the dark room by himself. Dick closed his eyes. He didn't know how long it had been exactly, but Dick knew Slade hadn't beaten him like that in quite awhile. He tried to breathe in deeply but the pain in his chest was too great to allow his lungs to expand and take in that much oxygen. Dick coughed slightly in pain.

He wasn't sure if he was bleeding from his chest or not but Dick could not see well enough in the dark to check himself anyways. His nose stopped bleeding after he laid down and began to drain down his throat. The taste was gnarly but Dick did not have the strength to roll to his side and spit it out. The rest of his blood had dried to his face and stained his hair. He attempted to rub some of it off his skin awhile ago but in the dark and without any water, there was not much use for it. He had no idea how long he had been laying here either.

The door opened and light poured into the room for the first time since Dick had been laying in there. Dick grunted and shut his eyes at the offensive brightness but made no move to cover himself with his hand. Slade stood at his feet, casting a large shadow over Dick's body. He stared down at the crumpled boy at his feet. Dick had not moved an inch since he had left him in this room.

"Can you breathe?"

"...Barely." Dick's voice was hoarse.

"I will examine you in the medical room." Slade told him, "Get up."

Dick groaned and rolled over onto his side slowly. He pushed his hand out and caught himself before his chest rolled onto the mattress. He evened his weight out by extending his other arm. He brought his knees up towards his chest with a grunt, resting on his hands and knees. His hair was a mess on his head, hanging down and blocking some of his vision. Dick took short, shallow breaths before he pushed himself up to his feet.

The moment he stood, his blood rushed and he felt extremely light headed. Before he could say anything to Slade, his vision went black and he fell backwards. Slade's eye widened slightly but he reached out and caught Dick as he fell. He put a hand behind Richard's back and the other arm beneath his knees. As he straightened his back, he carried Dick off the ground and in his arms instead. Slade stepped out of the dark room and into the hallway. Dick was limp in his arms.

Slade walked forward and carried Dick to the medical room. It was a small medical room. He rarely ever found himself in Central City and therefore did not have the same type of massive haunt as he did in Gotham or Jump City.

As he walked into the medical room, Dick slowly began to wake up in his arms. The blue eyes opened behind the thin strip of a mask.

"W-wha-?"

"You passed out." Slade explained shortly.

Slade bent forward and gently placed Dick down on the medical table. Dick moaned as his back came in touch with the hard table. He tried to focus on his breathing but his lungs were on fire and his throat was tight and caked with blood. He felt Slade press a cool, damp towel on his face. Dick kept his eyes shut as water dripped down his flesh and dripped all around him. Slade removed the mask from his eyes and began to wipe some of the blood from his skin.

He winced in pain as Slade wiped the area around his nose and his left eye. There was a bruise on the bridge of his nose and around his eye. Slade pressed the towel along his hair line, removing the black hair from sticking to the side of his face. It took Slade awhile, but after a few minutes and multiple rags, there was no more blood on Dick's face.