Robin one shot part 3!

It's Britney Bitch PT 2

alyssa579437744 here is thine request

EDIT: TW INTENSE INJURIES//BLOOD

When they got back, Dick was immediately treated for his injuries. Normally he'd make playful comments about everyone fussing but he was much too shell shocked. He couldn't believe it. He was trying desperately to believe that he'd escaped. That his family members were right there and not dead in a ditch somewhere no one would ever think to look. Yet he found himself waiting for someone to jump out and snatch this reality out from underneath him. He couldn't be this lucky. Everyone's conversations were nothing more than mumbles. He couldn't focus. Whether that was from the shock or his ill-treatment was another matter. All he knew was that he didn't believe this. It was too perfect. He glanced around the room. His siblings were talking to one another, discussing things he couldn't quite make out. He was so sure that they'd died. He'd imagined how they'd been killed when Slade told them they'd met their ends. All of those scenarios were gory and drawn out as much as he hoped that it had been quick and painless. The guilt had weighed him down for so long that he still felt it even now when they were alive. Or were they alive? This could all be a dream. He studied them. If this was a dream, there'd be imperfections. Small things that wouldn't make sense. However, it was all sensical. Everyone looked how they were supposed to look. His eyes trailed down to his skin. He knew that there was a trick to see if you were dreaming. Pulling your skin in a dream would lead to it stretching and stretching. It was a good indicator to see if he truly was dreaming. So he pinched the back of his hand and pulled. A hand slapped him and he jumped, his eyes darting to meet those of whoever hit him. "You'll hurt yourself, sir. Now, let's get that's uniform off for your check yes?" Alfred told him. Dick stared at the butler blankly for a few moments before numbly taking his shirt off. 

The room went silent. There was all manner of injuries littering his skin. He'd moved so well that they hadn't expected there to be that many. They expected a bruise or two, cuts here and there. "Oh, Dick," Tim whispered. The hero cocked his head at them then looked down. He'd almost forgotten what bad shape he was in. He could feel them, yes, but he supposed he got used to the pain. Maybe he was so numb that it'd slipped his mind to be in pain. There were cuts, shallow and deep, some were infected and had red irritated skin surrounding a puss-filled scab. Dark blue bruises surrounded part of his side whilst a mix of yellow ones weaved from his top left rib to the bottom ribs. On his back were more bruises from sleeping on the stone floor and small cuts that looked to be from a small dagger. His long sleeves had hidden the scratches and the grazes, some still having dirt and grime around them. "That psychopath," Jason muttered. Torture sessions had resulted in worse injuries but the fact Dick was probably still made to train despite his injuries added salt to the wounds. He would've been pushed to his limits every day no matter what. The thought of it all made him feel sick. He should've filled Slade full of bullets instead of just leaving him there to leave. Damian had to look away. It wasn't right. None of this was right. But here they were. He hated it all. "It was training," Dick mumbled.

"It was torture," Damian corrected. 

"I believe it will be best if Master Dick and I are left alone. I'll call you in when necessary."

"But Pennyworth-" 

"Listen to Alfred," Bruce interrupted. "He's never steered us wrong before, has he?" he added as he herded the group out the room despite their grumbles. He trusted his butler to do the right thing. He had to.

Despite some reluctance, Bruce managed to send everyone home. They had places to protect and they would only feel worse about themselves by sticking around with no way to help. Although they put up fights, they had to agree with his logic. Not every hero could be there when there was no need for them to be. Dick would understand that and even though he loved all of them dearly, right now probably wasn't the best time for all of them to be crowded around his bed. Alfred let them in to say their goodbyes though they suspected that it was all just background noise to their brother. His eyes had a glazed look to them like he was empty. His mind was somewhere else and they knew where that place was. Alfred tried to get him to engage in some conversation since he'd always known that to be comforting to the young man but it seemed like he wasn't one for talking. Throughout the two hours it took to check over, inspect and treat every consequence of Slade's ill-treatment Dick had remained eerily quiet. He only ever spoke when asked a question and the answers were short. After fixing him up and failing to get him to engage in a conversation that lasted longer than one question and one answer, Alfred called in Bruce and Damian. "Master Dick will need plenty of bed rest and I suggest he does it in somewhere more comforting. One of you should stay with him during the night," he told them.