Welcome to the first chapter of the story! I've had this idea for a while, but I finally decided to write it up. It's a bit slow towards the beginning, but I promise it's going to pick up in the next few chapters. Enjoy the story, and don't forget to tell me what you think :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing
The high pitched beep of his alarm clock startled Dick into consciousness. He rolled over and turned it off, squinting a little at the bright light coming from the phone. As soon as the beeping stopped, he pulled the covers over his head, curling into a ball and closing his eyes for what felt like a few seconds. He realized he had fallen back asleep for about thirty when Alfred was knocking on his door, telling him something about being late if he didn't hurry.
He gave a grumbled reply and got out of bed, turning on his light as he started getting ready for school.
When he finished, he checked his phone to see how much time he had: four minutes. He frantically ran down the stair, pulling his blazer on as he went. He skidded to a stop before entering the kitchen, calmly entering the room as if he hadn't just broken the "no running in the house" rule.
"You know, Dick, I don't see the point in setting your alarm if you're not going to bother waking up when it goes off." Bruce commented from behind his newspaper.
"I get up," Dick defended, pouring himself some cereal. "Sometimes."
"Uh-huh," Bruce said, leaving Dick to inhale his breakfast.
"Slow down, Master Dick." Alfred scolded.
"Sorry, Alfie." Dick apologized, even though his breakfast had already disappeared.
"Are you ready for school?" Alfred asked, clearing the table as he did.
"Yeah, I'll go get my bag." Dick slid off his stool and headed towards his room. When he came back down, Alfred was handing Bruce a travel mug of coffee.
"Have a good day at school, Dick." Bruce said before he walked out the door and towards his car.
"Bye, Bruce," Dick waved.
"Are you ready, Sir?" Alfred asked.
"Uh-huh," Dick nodded and followed Alfred out of the house and into the car.
.oOo.
Dick said goodbye to Alfred as he hopped out of the car. He walked through the gates and into the building, keeping an eye out for Barbara as he walked in the general direction of his locker. He found the red head waiting by his locker, and by the looks of it, she had already made a stop at her own.
"Hey Babs," he greeted as he walked up to her, trying and failing to hide a yawn.
"Hey, Dick," Barbara smiled, moving a little to the side so Dick could get at his locker. "Long night?"
"You have no idea," Dick replied lightly, putting his lunch and unneeded textbooks in the locker before shutting it.
"Yeah, same here. After I got home from practice, I waited up for my dad." she mentioned.
"Any particular reason why?" Dick asked, smirking.
"He was talking to Batman about a case I was interested in." Barbara shrugged.
"Sure, it was the case, not the fact that your dad was talking to Batman." Dick said, rolling his eyes dramatically.
"Shut up," Barbra punched him in the arm playfully. "Like you're any better."
The two of them would talk about Batman and Robin every so often; everyone in Gotham did. And it happened that they both wanted to meet the Dynamic Duo, especially Batman. After all, for two nerds who liked reading and solving mysteries, meeting the World's Greatest Detective would be pretty cool.
"You're just upset because your dad hasn't introduced you yet. And you're still jealous that I already met him." Dick pointed out, remembering the time Penguin had tried to burn down a theatre that his class was seeing a play at. Batman had been close behind and ended up getting Dick (who had actually been helping others evacuate) and a few other students out.
"I already told you," Babs started, retuning the smirk, "it doesn't count; you were unconscious."
"If it makes you happy, we won't count it. But I'll still meet him before you do, he'll probably' even let me ride in the Batmobile." Dick mused.
"Whatever you say," she said in a patronizing manner. "Come on, we should get to class."
"So does that mean you admit defeat?" Dick asked.
"Watch it, Grayson," she warned in a serious tone, but he saw the ghost of a smile cross her lips as she brushed passed him.
"See you at lunch," Dick called, completely ignoring the threat as he walked off to his biology class.
.oOo.
Dick swerved through the crowded hall packed with students, trying to make his way to the cafeteria without being run into. He had almost succeeded, too.
Someone bumped into him, causing Dick to stumble and drop a few of his papers. "Oh, I'm sorry," someone said behind a stack of boxes.
"It's fine," Dick brushed it off and bent down to collect his papers, happily surprised when the man set the boxes down to help him.
"Here you go," someone wearing a nurse's uniform said as he passed over the papers, prompting a quick "thanks" from Dick. "Richard Grayson, right?" the man asked as they both stood up.
"Yeah, that's me." He smiled, counting his papers to make sure he still had all of his notes. "I haven't seen you around before, are you new?"
"You can call me Peter, I'm substituting for Nurse Linda." Peter explained, shaking Dick's hand in greeting.
"Nice to meet you." Dick had been to the nurse's office plenty of times, usually with some excuse to get him out of class so Robin could make an appearance, but a few times he had actually been sick. She was nice enough sometimes a challenge to convince that he was sick, though. "So is she sick or something?"
"Yeah, but she'll be fine. I have to get back, thanks for the help, and have a good day," he waved, and Dick headed towards the cafeteria again.
"Richard," the voice of Ms. Albert's—the meanest teacher in the entire school—called. Dick internally sighed. He had just gotten out of her class, why would she be looking for him?
"Hi," he smiled politely. "Was there something you needed?"
"Is this yours?" Ms. Alberts asked, holding out his lunch bag to him. Dick had grabbed it before her class so he could go straight to lunch without having to backtrack to his locker.
"Oh, yeah it's mine," he replied, taking it from her. He must've left it in her classroom. Man, he really was tired today.
"Another student saw you had left it and brought it to my desk." She explained.
"Thanks for bringing it to me," he said, and she nodded before walking into the teacher's lounge.
Finally, Dick entered the cafeteria. He walked towards their normal table, feeling a little guilty when he saw she was almost finished with her lunch and was reading a book.
"Hey," Dick greeted, taking a seat across from Babs.
"Nice of you to join me," she replied, setting down her book. "What took you?"
"Some nurse ran into me in the hall and I dropped my notes, and then Ms. Alberts brought me my lunch that I accidently left in her class." Dick explained, taking out his lunch and beginning to eat it hungrily as Barbara made some comment about their teacher.
"We should do something this weekend. My dad won't be home, but we could go to your place or go to the mall," Barbara suggested.
"Sounds fun, but—"
"But you're busy, so maybe next week," she finished in a bored tone.
"Yeah, I have something Saturday morning." he shrugged apologetically. "I don't know when I'll be back, but I bet we could hang out in the evening."
"Just call me, so I can make other plans," Barbara told him.
"Good to know I'm so replaceable." Dick muttered, pushing his food around, suddenly not very hungry.
"Well, now you know," Babs teased, then tilted her head in a questioning way. "You feeling okay?"
"Fine, just feel kinda weird all of a sudden." Dick answered.
"Maybe you're coming down with that bug that's going around," she said. It was that time of year where everyone was getting sick, and there was a virus that was going around, but wasn't there always?
"Maybe," he pondered, but something was telling him there was more to it than that. He gave up on eating and breasted his head and his arms.
Barbara reached over to feel his forehead. "You're not feverish, just a little warm. But if you don't feel good, maybe you should go home."
"I don't need to go home," came the mumbled response, but that was exactly what he wanted to do.
"If you say so," Barbara shrugged. "Just don't get me sick."
Dick gave a small laugh. "I'll try my best."
They were quiet again, Barbara going back to her book and Dick tried to distract himself by focusing on his breathing. It seemed to be working, but then his stomach lurched violently. Dick instinctively slapped his hand over his mouth and ran to find a bathroom, Babs right behind him.
He didn't make it to a bathroom, but he was lucky enough to find a trash can just outside the cafeteria. He heaved into it, sweating and shaking as he did. Barbara started rubbing his back in a soothing, circular motion. He spat a few times to try to get the rest of the vomit out of his mouth before sliding down a wall and onto the floor.
"Not sick, huh?" she asked, sitting next to him and letting him lean against her.
"I don't feel good," he said, clutching his stomach a little tighter.
"Was it something you ate?" she asked, concern laced in her voice, knowing that wasn't the problem the second the words left her lips.
"No, maybe, I don't know. My stomach really hurts, and so does my head," he mumbled, as the pain only increased and he felt like he would pass out.
"Come on, let's get you to the nurse," she said, helping him stand up and continuing to support him as they made their way down the hall.
"Barbara," Dick suddenly stopped and grabbed her arm. Moving was a bad idea. A very bad idea.
"What's wrong?" she looked him over, trying to decide if he would need a trash can.
"Something's wrong," he told her just before he slumped in her hold and his eyes started to close.
"Dick? What's wrong?" she practically yelled, her reflexes catching him before he could fall to the ground. "Talk to me!"
.
.
.
Dick woke up confused to find himself on a medical bed.
"What happened?" Peter asked, but the question was directed at Barbara, seeing as Dick wasn't coherent enough to answer for himself.
"I'm not really sure. He wasn't feeling well at lunch and then he threw up," she started. "I was helping him to the nurse's office when he said something was wrong and then he passed out."
Peter nodded and started to do a quick examination. "I can take it from here, miss; you can head back to lunch now."
"He's going to be okay, right?" she asked tentatively, trying to get a better look at Dick who was currently throwing up into a bucket the nurse had given him.
"I'm sure he'll be fine. It's probably his appendix, so I'm going to call an ambulance," he told her.
"I can stay with him until the ambulance gets here." Barbara offered as Dick curled up on his side.
"No, just leave it to me," Peter said firmly, and started to usher her out the door. She gave Dick one last glance before leaving.
The pain grew worse by the second, and soon Dick couldn't hold back the moans as he started shaking. Why didn't he ask for Barbara to stay?
"Hurts," Dick hissed.
"Calm down, kid," he started. "Your ride's almost here,"
Soon, another man walked into the room pushing a gurney, and Dick was placed onto it and then wheeled out of the building. He was put in the ambulance, a little surprised when the substitute nurse took a seat.
"Told you it would work," the new man said as the ambulance pulled away, and suddenly Dick was feeling more awake. "No one even questioned it."
Oh god, this wasn't happening.
"Fine, you were right." Peter agreed. "He keeps fighting the drug, shouldn't he be passed out by now?"
Drugs?
"I don't know. How much did you give him, anyway?" the new man questioned.
Dick didn't know, but he knew he didn't want any more. He started to fight against the gurney's restraints, but didn't have much luck.
"I don't know. Think I should give him another dose?" Peter—or whatever his real name was—asked.
No!
"Sure, but maybe a half dose. And do an injection this time instead; it probably works better, not to mention faster." the man driving the most likely stolen ambulance said.
Dick finally found his voice and started screaming at the top of his lungs, praying for someone to hear him.
"Do it fast and shut him up," the driver yelled, and next thing he knew, there was a wad of cotton in his mouth.
Once the cotton-gag was secured with medical tape, the man started looking around the ambulance for something. Dick's eyes went wide and he started to struggle even more when the guy came back with a syringe. His struggles didn't do much, and he felt the prick of the needle before burning liquid ran through his veins. Not a second later, and he let out a muffled scream of pain. He was breathing fast, and the corners of his vision were going black. He felt himself falling into oblivion with one thought: he was going to die.
What did you think? Too slow? Not exciting enough? Did you know what as happening right away? And how about that cliffhanger? Thanks for reading, I really appreciate it!
Until next time
-TheImaginativeFox
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