Dick coughed as another knife landed in his thigh. It stung, adding onto the pain he felt. Cuts, bruises, burns, Dick felt it all. His wrists were chained to the wall, and his mask was half torn. Blood ran down his chin in a trail, sticking to his skin uncomfortably.
"You asleep up there, Grayson-West? You know that won't change anything. I want my information. I'll go until you're on the brink of death, then I'll rip you back. You won't escape me this time." Deathstroke snapped, grabbing his chin harshly. Dick took a shake breath in, mustering up the strongest glare he could send.
"You could just tell me. Tell me who the League is, then you won't feel pain anymore." "You mean…you'll kill me. I'm not dumb." Dick wheezed, feeling a rib press into his lung. Her probably had so many broken bones he'd be in a body cast for months. "I gave you a chance. Don't say I don't warn you." Deathstroke let go of his head again, which thumped against his chest. As long as the others were safe.
Deathstroke picked up a sword which had been over a pile of coals. "Let's see how you handle this one." Dick couldn't see Deathstroke's face, but something told him the villain was grinning under the tacky mask. Seriously, that mask made Dick cringe every time he saw it. He hadn't had the best fashion sense in the past, but at least he made up for it.
Dick had accepted the fact that he might die. He would hate it, it would tear Wally apart, but Deathstroke wouldn't get anything. Wally would be safe. Dick was willing to do anything for Wally.
Deathstroke had the sword raised, ready to find a patch of unharmed skin, however rare that was, and destroy it. Dick had lost so much blood he swore he saw three of Deathstroke with three swords. Maybe this would be the mission Dick died on. He went out being a hero, so that was all he wanted.
Before Deathstroke could bring down the sword, a figure rammed into all three of him, knocking him and the sword away from Dick's weak body. The figure moved to Dick, gently cupping his face. Dick managed to open one eye farther to see Wally in front of him, worry displayed in tears. "What did he do to you, Dickie?" "A lot. Can I go home?" "I'm taking you to Leslie. I'm going to get you out of here."
Other figures dropped down, making a loose circle around the injured bird. Wally vibrated Dick out of the cuffs, catching him so he didn't fall. Dick's blood caked the wall and the floor, and many of the weapons on the metal trays. "I'm getting Dick out of here. Can you hold him off long enough?" "Yeah. Go, take him." "His heart is slowing down. He need help, now!" A flurry of voices invaded Dick's mind, making him confused. He just wanted a nap. Deathstroke hadn't let him sleep for however long he'd been there.
Dick leaned into Wally as he ran, shivering. It was cold, and he was tired, and everything hurt. "Hang on, Dick. You're going to be fine. I promise." Wally said, holding Dick tighter. Dick tried so hard to stay awake, but it was too much. He fell unconscious, eyes sliding shut.
Wally hurriedly set Dick on a gurney, worried when there was no reaction. Leslie started immediately, instructing Wally to grab item after item. Wally zipped around the medbay, retrieving the items as quickly as possible.
It took three hours for Leslie to stabilize Dick. He had three broken ribs, four cracked, his left shoulder was dislocated, his right arm was broken, and his left ankle was sprained, not to mention the nearly fatal blood loss. He had a concussion, and would need to stay in bed for at least four weeks. He had an IV, a breathing tube, a blood drip, and a heart monitor connected to him.
Wally didn't leave Dick's side for days. He ate, and he slept, but he didn't leave. Dick was too important to leave. He couldn't be left alone, not in this state. It was just too dangerous.
The ninth day Dick had been rescued, he woke up. It was a weightless waking, as he couldn't feel anything. He could only see a white light, and he briefly wondered is he was dead. They always talked about a light at the end of the tunnel, right?
When his sight cleared, he could see white walls, and a mop of red hair laying on the gurney. Wally was holding Dick's hand, which Dick squeezed lightly. Maybe he could wake Wally up. Wally needed to know he was alright.
Wally groaned and tried to hide his face. Dick sighed, living to sit up. His ribs and arm quickly said no. Dick hissed in pain, laying back down. His chest stung, and his head was starting to pound. Deathstroke had done a number on him.
The groan was what woke Wally up. He knew that groan. His eyes snapped open, and his body immediately sat up. He smiled down at Dick, who looked like he was barely awake. "Hey, Dickie. You ok?" "Can't…feel anything." "I know. It's a drug Leslie used, it's keeping all the pain from hitting you at once. It'll probably be a while before you can feel anything again."
"Oh." "Yeah. What do you remember?" "Waking up in a dark place chained to the wall. Deathstroke coming in a few minutes later with a tray of weapons. Probably days of torture. Then you coming in and bringing me out." "That's good. That means you're doing better. Can you sit up?" "No. I tried. My chest and arms killed me." "Alright. I'm going to go get Leslie, and she's going to check you out. Just stay with me, ok?"
Dick nodded, feeling Wally press a kiss to his forehead. Dick missed this. He missed being doted on. They'd been so busy recently, they seemed to have no time together. Dick swore when he recovered that would change.
Leslie set to work, doing test after test to make sure Dick was alright. Dick flinched at some of them, trying not to squirm and mess it up. He held onto Wally's hand tightly, which Wally had no objection to. It was just another way for him to know Dick was alive.
"Alright, you're looking good for right now. Nothing life threatening. You still need to take it easy, and stay in bed for four weeks. After four weeks are over, call me, and I'll check you out again. For now, sleep. You still need it." Leslie adjusted a few monitors, making room around Dick. Dick took Leslie's advice, eyes closing. He was going to be in a lot of pain, but he was home.
