Leslie took off her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She looked exhausted. Dick noticed how pained her expression was, and he knew right away she had anything but good news.
"When Dick was held hostage last weekend, the kidnappers made sure that if the plan didn't succeed, which it obviously didn't, that you, Bruce, would still lose." She paused at the two faces twisted in confusion. "They injected Dick with a toxin, one that I have never encountered before. I'm guessing they figured if he got away, he'd need the antidote, in which case you would still have to pay the ransom to save him."
The information was sinking in slowly, but Dick knew it didn't end here. He scratched the cast on his arm anxiously.
"I've run several tests on the poison." Leslie pushed a stack of papers in front of Bruce. "The toxin is complex, and it would take months to create an antidote, if it is even possible. By then, we'll have run out of time."
"Out of time?" Bruce questioned. Dick glanced at him. The man was holding back a truckload of rage ever since he was kidnapped (again), but he managed to tuck it away so deep inside that only a growing frown struck the surface.
Leslie sighed. "Bruce, the toxin is eating away at Dick's organs; it's destroying him from the inside out. Luckily, it's moving very slowly, but," she looked Bruce in the eyes and lowered her voice, "he only has about three weeks left."
Dick felt his throat swell as the world around him blurred out of focus. The office became cold, the seat beneath him rigid. Bruce stiffened beside him, probably resisting the urge to punch a hole through Leslie's computer. "We can just get the antitoxin from the kidnap –" Leslie shook her head, and Bruce fell silent.
"I made a run by the prison yesterday to try and find out any information involving the antidote. Apparently the one they created was a fake; there was no cure. Once they had the money…" She turned to Dick, who was pale and eerily silent. "I'm sorry Richard. I'll do my best to find an antitoxin."
But Dick had stopped listening. He had approximately three weeks left. Weeks.
How could this happen to him, to Robin? He was a good kid, you know, besides an occasional rebellious act or two. He ate his vegetables! (Alfred made sure of that.) He didn't deserve this.
No one did.
Leslie had been explaining all the details, using big words that all meant the same thing: not good. Bruce's hand had made its way to his knee, which was anything but comforting. When Batman was worried, he should be terrified.
And yet, all Dick felt was a mix of disbelief and numbness. He was out of time; his life was going to be over, like a lighted candle in a blizzard. He didn't even have time to write a bucket list, let alone accomplish all that would be on it.
He didn't deny it; the facts were there in front of him. It didn't matter how hard he willed them to be wrong. He didn't cry. He couldn't in front of his mentor, not anymore. When he was younger and he had nightmares about his parent's deaths, Bruce would comfort him and let him ball it out. But now he wasn't haunted by the past. He was haunted by the future, or lack thereof. He also knew Bruce would find a way to blame the whole thing on himself, and that was the last thing he needed right now. He just wanted all the pain and stress in his life to be zapped away. It wouldn't be the first time he'd wished for such a thing.
But most of all, he didn't understand. Hadn't he suffered enough already, losing his family and nearly every fiber of hope, but now to be diagnosed with an expiration date at 15? He was not whelmed, and he was worried he'd never be whelmed again.
The ride home had consisted of Bruce telling him all the symptoms he should be expecting, and which ones, if to occur, they should go to Leslie for.
"I'm not going to lose my hair, am I?" Dick asked, half-joking. He must have lost his sarcastic charm because Bruce took him seriously.
"Probably not. It isn't cancer." He answered. He didn't take his eyes off the road.
"Right, my chances would be better if it was." Dick said, leaning his head against the window. It was raining outside, and he wondered if the day could become any more depressing.
"Don't say that. Leslie said she would try to find a cure, and I'll be doing the same in the cave."
"Bruce, let's face it. I'm not going to make it, so you can stop trying to be all optimistic-"
Bruce slammed on the brakes, the wheels screeching. The force sent Dick forward and then back against his seat. They were left in the center of the road of a busy highway. He snapped his head around. "Dick, I don't want to hear you say anything like that again! I am not going to let you die, okay?" His voice was harsh, and yet Dick could identify something else in it. Certainly not fear, but… "You'll get through this. I promise."
His dark blue eyes bore into Dick's, and he nodded. Several cars honked as they hastily weaved around the Lamborghini. Dick realized Bruce hadn't just said those words for him, but for himself as well.
The rest of the drive home was silent, save the pattering of rain on the tinted windows.
"You look awful dude." Wally said, as Dick reached for his sunglasses to conceal his heavy eyes and the shadows underneath.
"Rough night," he replied. It was true. He hadn't been able to sleep, and his sprained arm had been killing him. However, he had decided against wearing the cast today; it would raise too many questions. With that they walked into the kitchen where everyone was gathered.
M'gann was mixing something in a large yellow bowl, and Connor was choking down a batch of her cookies with a façade of pleasure. Artemis was sitting on the counter, laughing at Connor's expressions, while Kaldur read the newspaper by the sink.
"Robin!" M'gann exclaimed happily, and the others looked up at Dick with surprise.
"Batman said you weren't going to be here for few a more days." Artemis said, sliding off the counter to greet her teammate.
Batman had informed the team that Robin had gone with him on a mission in Taiwan over the weekend, when he had actually been tied up to a wall with a gag in his mouth. It was hard when his friends didn't understand what hell he had been through, and at the same time, it made things much easier. If they knew everything that had ever happened to him, he'd go from the youngest and most experienced on the team to the poor little boy who would never be treated as an equal again. That was his theory, at least.
"Yeah, well he doesn't exactly know I'm here." Robin said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. The others exchanged glances. "He'll figure it out though, don't worry."
"Well it is nice to have you here, my friend." Kaldur said, and the others nodded in agreement.
"We were just eating some of M'gann's cookies." Wally raised his eyebrows, warning his friend. Knowing Rob's identity had made him terrified for him when he saw the report of "Dick Grayson's kidnapping" on the news. He had been extremely glad to receive a call from him the night he returned.
"Yes, Robin, please have one. We've got lots!" M'gann levitated the tray towards him.
"No, I'm okay." Robin said. Normally he would have eaten one just to please M'gann, but he wasn't the least bit hungry. He had skipped breakfast, much to Alfred's dismay, and snuck to the cave to avoid seeing Bruce. Just the thought of eating made him want to puke, and he didn't think it was all from the disheartening information he had heard yesterday. The toxin was beginning to take its toll.
He noticed the hurt expression on M'gann's face, and immediately felt bad. He had to tell them sometime, but it was going to be hard. How was he supposed to tell his best friends that he was only going to live for another month? How would they respond?
Robin took a cookie, and M'gann lit up again. He decided he'd just have to make the time he spent with them count, and then maybe they wouldn't even have to know. He didn't want their last memory of him as a dying, pale teenager. He would preserve their feelings, at least until the time was right.
"Rob? Are you okay? You've been staring at that cookie for like five minutes." Wally's face scrunched in concern. He leaned close and whispered through his teeth, "They aren't that bad; you aren't going to die or anything."
Robin blinked, feigning a smile and biting into the rock-hard cookie. If only you knew.
Well that's it for now, guys! Let me know what you think! This is my first story here, so don't be too harsh pretty please. ^_^