Sleeping Sickness
summary: Dick Grayson gets abducted out of costume and neither the Batman nor his team know where and how to save him. But whoever has him knows his secret alter-ego and on the brink of madness from psychological torture, Dick is having a hard time clinging to his own identity. (Contains slash between Conner and Dick & heavy on father/son dynamic between Bruce & Dick)
genre: Angst, Hurt-Comfort, Drama
rated: M (Torture, Language, Adult themes)
author note: Shameless Conner Kent/Dick Grayson slasher. Title and chapter themes inspired by the song "Sleeping Sickness" by City and Colour. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy.
Chapter 2
And I'm afraid
To sleep because of what haunts me
Such as living with the uncertainty
That I'll never find the words to say
Which could completely explain
Just how I'm breaking down
"I appreciate you all meeting me here," Bruce spoke to the small crowd gathered in the large living room of Wayne Manor. He stood by the large fireplace, evening light flooding the room through the expansive floor to ceiling windows. He looked to Barry Allen who stood behind the black leather couch to Bruce's right, his arms crossed over his chest. Conner Kent was seated in front of him on the couch, one hand clenched into a fist resting on his knee, the other raised to his forehead where his fingers seemed to try to massage his temple quite forcibly. Wally West sat on the other end of the couch, one foot propped up on the cushion, knee drawn to his chest, his head resting atop folded arms over his knee.
"We're here to help, Bruce," Clark Kent spoke from the chair to Bruce's left. He too glanced around the room at all the heroes gathered. However, today they were in their civvies, not assembled as world protectors but as concerned friends and family of the missing Dick Grayson.
Tim Drake sat on a one of the black club chairs, legs folded criss crossed on the cushion beneath him, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. Alfred stood beside the chair, one arm folded behind his back, the other rested a comforting hand on Tim's shoulder, providing quiet support for the teenager.
"We searched up and down the campus, the parking lot, the nearby area," Wally sighed, defeat lacing his voice. "We found no prints, no fibers, no hairs, not even shoes with discernible sole prints. All trackers in Dick's clothes, watch, comm and backpack were left behind which means we have no way of knowing where the hell he was taken to once they left campus. And there was no evidence of anyone being in that alley other than Dick."
"And the hypodermic needle left behind had traces of a neurotoxin that causes muscular paralysis," Tim added, also not able to hide the defeat in his voice. "All we were able to get from that was that its generic needle from a company that supplies to the Northern East Coast including Metropolis, Bludhaven, Gotham and everything in between."
"Dick's been missing for 72 hours now, we need more than that," as Barry spoke up he spared a glance to his protégé and nephew, Wally. Dick and Wally had been best friends for years and Barry knew this was eating him up, just like it was everyone else in the room.
"Master Dick was taken off campus as civilian Dick Grayson. We've informed the authorities but we do believe this has less to do with his identity as Dick Grayson and more to do with his, shall we say, nightlife," Alfred supplied, his stone face and steady voice refusing to betray the anger and sadness boiling inside the older man.
"You think Dick was taken out of costume because someone figured out he's Nightwing?" Clark looked to Bruce. The implications that someone knew Dick's identity meant it could only be a matter of time before they discovered Tim's, Bruce's or any of them for that matter.
"Bruce Wayne hasn't received any communications, no ransom demands, or any acknowledgment that his adopted son has been taken. But then again, neither has Batman," Bruce rubbed at the back of his neck as he spoke, finding it difficult to keep his worry at bay. With the cowl, he could almost always suppress his emotions; without it he was finding it nearly impossible at this moment. "If they're not looking for money or an exchange of any kind, his abduction leads us to three possible conclusions. The least likely is that Dick was merely wrong place, wrong time. Which leaves either someone enacting on a personal vendetta against Dick or, as Alfred suggested, we have to assume someone discovered his identity and is looking to use or punish Nightwing."
"Does it matter?" All heads turned to Conner who finally spoke.
"It does matter, Kon," Clark leaned forward on his thighs, hands clasped between his knees as he looked at the young man. "If we figure out the 'why', it helps us figure out the 'who', and more importantly the 'where'."
"All that matters is that we find him," Conner made no effort to stop the rage in his tone. "Dick is missing and we're wasting time sitting here talking about him being missing!"
"I understand your frustration, Conner," Bruce spoke steadily, "but I need you to keep your head straight so we can handle this rationally."
Conner didn't respond with anything other than a glare, pushing himself off the couch and leaving the room. Clark sighed, leaning back in his chair as the young man left.
"He's not wrong," Wally broke the heavy silence in the room that had hung with Conner's departure. "It's been three days and we're no closer to finding Dick."
"I'm going to go to the Watchtower to speak with J'onn and M'gann. Maybe they can pick up something, some trace of the kid," Barry patted Wally on the back before zooming out of the manor.
"I think I'm going to head back to the school," Tim stood from the chair. "We've seen the security footage from the alley but If I can get into the security office I can look through the cameras and try to get some sort of visual of campus that day, before, during and after his abduction. See if there's something."
"I'll go with you," Wally followed Tim out of the living room at Bruce's nod of approval.
Bruce watched as Alfred sighed and hurried to leave the room to busy himself with some meaningless task. Bruce knew Alfred was having just as hard a time as he was with Dick's disappearance, if not more. It wasn't easy for Alfred, watching his family go out there every night, missing days at a time, waiting and praying for their safe return when they were on duty. But when it was one of them out of uniform taken, Alfred couldn't escape the grief or anxiety. Despite the lack of blood relation, Bruce and Dick were his family, his children and Alfred couldn't bear the thought of losing them. Unlike Bruce and Dick, Alfred hadn't been crippled by grief at a young age; but he did help both of them pick up the pieces of their life after they had. Bruce wished there was something he could do to reassure Alfred that Dick would come back safe, but at this point Bruce was in need of it himself.
"Bruce, I'm going to go talk to Conner," Clark moved to stand beside his friend.
"No," Bruce shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, before turning to face Clark. "I'll talk to him. I need you to take the needle to Star Labs as Superman, see if their more sophisticated equipment can further break down the sample of the toxin, something unique or distinguishable. Maybe there was something I missed." Bruce pulled a small, narrow sealed container that housed the needle with what little trace it had left in its vial.
"You don't miss much, Bruce. You really think it'll help? " Clark asked, eyeing his friend up and down.
"Honestly? No," Bruce sighed. "But I'm running out of ideas and Dick could be running out of time."
Clark nodded, accepting the package with one hand and squeezed Bruce's shoulder once with the other before leaving him alone. Bruce took a look around the now empty room. He was so angry, wanting nothing more than to trash the furniture in some satisfying fit of rage. But it would serve no purpose and would do little to satisfy his anger and helplessness. Instead he set off to search the manor for the other man he knew was filled with a helpless rage.
Twenty minutes later found Bruce crossing Dick's bedroom and heading towards the balcony leading off the room. He'd searched the fitness center, the kitchen, and a couple other rooms in the manor before he was compelled to Dick's room. He could see Conner on the other side of the windowed doors leading to the small balcony. Dick had revealed his identity to some of his team shortly before he transitioned from Robin to Nightwing and over the last few years since, Conner had been to Wayne Manor quite a few times. Although in the last year it had been much more frequently. As he crossed the room, Bruce recalled one particular time about six months ago where he waked in on Conner and Dick making out on the couch in Dick's room. Conner had turned as red as the insignia on his shirt, scrambling to get out from beneath Dick who had been straddled on his lap. Bruce remembered clearly that Dick had merely just smirked and sighed at Bruce, simply impatient and slightly annoyed that the man had interrupted him; try as he might Bruce couldn't embarrass the boy.
It wasn't the first time Bruce had caught Dick in some room of the manor with a love interest, male or female; although it had been the first time he'd actually caught him with a teammate. Dick knew how Bruce felt about dating within the team and although Bruce knew Dick had pretty much casually dated about half of the young justice league, Dick had been smart enough to not do it under Bruce's disapproving nose. Dick had a reputation of being a 'dog'. He was charming, flirty, and someone that craved interpersonal connection. It wasn't that Dick Grayson was a player, he just loved so freely and cared so deeply about people that it was easy for him to fall in and out love. But the fact that Dick and Conner had been romantically involved for at least six months now, much longer than any of Dick's usual trysts, Bruce was willing to overlook the fact that they worked together.
Dick was so the opposite of Bruce in many ways that one would never think he'd been raised by the billionaire since he was nine years old. He sometimes wished Dick wouldn't fall so easily for other people, that he'd sometimes save a little part of his heart for himself. But that trait, that strength in faith and trust in heart, was so uniquely Dick that Bruce wouldn't trade it for anything. His son had always placed his trust and faith in his friends, always led with his heart. Bruce suspected that was part of the reason he was still friends with every single one of his ex's, that it was part of the reason why every member of the league trusted Nightwing. He didn't blame anyone for just being completely drawn to Dick, even to the point of risking the wrath of the Batman by making out with his son in the Batman's home.
Bruce smiled sadly at the memory as he crossed the room and went out to the balcony. Conner was hunched over, hands spread out, gripping the balcony railing that came no higher than his waist. If Conner heard him approach, he didn't acknowledge Bruce's presence as he came to stand beside him. The two stood in silence for a while before Conner spoke.
"I can't hear him," was all Conner said, gazing intensely at the Gotham horizon. Bruce didn't say anything in return, just turned to look at the young man. "I know his voice, I know his heartbeat, but I can't find it amongst all the noise out there. I keep listening for him but I can't hear anything."
"He may not be close, Conner," Bruce sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Or he may not be able to speak."
"Clark taught me to hone my super hearing, to listen for certain buzz words like 'help' or 'bomb' or whatever," Conner pushed away from the railing and straightened up, turning to Bruce. "If I just keep an ear out…I don't know."
"It's something," Bruce nodded his approval at Conner, sensing the boy needed it in that moment. The moment passed though as Conner's hands tightened into fists and the infamous anger that often plagued the young man, though not nearly as frequently any more, took over.
"It's not enough," Conner slammed a fist into the railing, cracking the marble. "We're supposed to be super heroes, you're supposed to be the World's Greatest Detective! How is it possible we can't find one of our own?"
"Conner, I need you to keep your head clear and not let your personal relationship with Dick cloud your emotions," Bruce spoke steadily.
"Don't you dare tell me how I'm supposed to feel," Conner growled at the older man, fury in his eyes. "As for our relationship, it's none of your damned busi-"
"It absolutely is my business," Bruce interrupted, voice loud now, grabbing Conner by the shoulders. "Anything that has to do with that boy, with Dick, is my business. I've seen his heart break, his body break, had his blood on my hands, had my blood transfused into his veins. I've broken his heart, broken his bones, put him back together and am responsible for a few of those scars on his body. He is my family, my son. I know how careful and protective he is with every single person he cares about, and how reckless he is with his own well-being. So, yes I will tell you how you're supposed to feel because I know that you're angry. So am I! No one wants him back more than I do!"
All the anger suddenly drained from Bruce's body with the last sentence. He let go of his hold on Conner's shoulders. The anger had faded from Conner as well, who was no longer looking like the angered young man from moments ago, but the lost one Bruce had come across when he first stepped onto the balcony. Bruce sunk onto a nearby bench, exhausted.
"For what its worth, Conner, I'm not angered by your relationship with Dick. I'm completely fine with the two of you being in a relationship, despite the fact that you're teammates. As long as you do it right, for yourself and for him. He's been through enough; so have you. What I do care about is you keeping your head during this. You're his team member first; do you think you can remember that?"
"Yes, sir," Conner nodded. Bruce waited for him to continue, sensing the younger man had more to say. "Did you ever listen to 'Blue'?"
Bruce was taken back, surprised by the random question and not sure what Conner was talking about or where this was going. He thought a moment and then it dawned on him.
"I didn't peg you as a Joni Mitchell fan, Kent." Conner chuckled at the caped crusaders confusion. He was aware how crazy he probably sounded in that moment.
"I'm not. Well, I wasn't" Con smiled but with a hint of sadness. "I don't know much about music. It wasn't exactly Cadmus priority and I just never gave it any thought. But Dick, Dick can't get enough of it, as I'm sure you know."
"Oh, yes. I had to remind him that having the radio playing while patrolling in the Batmobile was counterproductive on more than one occasion. Didn't stop him from trying to install Satellite radio in the Batmobile though."
"The guy has a playlist for everything. Training, studying, meditating, you name it. And he just couldn't wrap his head around me just not being into music," Conner spoke, leaning back against the balcony railing, facing Bruce with his arms crossed over his chest. "So early on as a team after missions I would find these flash drives in my quarters with a playlist on it that he had made and insisted on me listening to. Rock, mostly. He figured I'd be into it based on my 'raging out' as he called it. Then the day after he found out that M'gann and I broke up, he invited me over to the Manor to just hang out. We're sitting in his room on the floor, just talking and chilling and he asks me about the break up, about how I feel about not being with the person I love anymore. All I said to him was that I didn't really think I knew love at all. His eyes lit up when I said that and he tells me that's a line in a song. So he runs to the other side of his room and he pulls out a vinyl record. I'd never seen one before and didn't see the big deal but he told me it belonged to his mother. He said he didn't have much from his parents because they didn't have much. But this he kept."
Conner moved to sit beside Bruce on the bench who was just staring at the younger man as he spoke, listening to Conner tell him a story about his adopted son.
"This was his mother's favorite. He said his mother used to play music as she was getting ready before they would go perform and the album 'Blue' she would play the most. He tells me what I just said is in a song 'Both Sides Now' on this album and then just starts telling me about Joni Mitchell and his mother and this album; that there was a song on the album that Dick was convinced why his parents named him Richard," Conner paused the story to smile to himself before looking at Bruce. "I could have sat there for hours just listening to him talk about it. And you know how he gets, he can talk for hours."
"All too well," Bruce chuckled.
"So he's talking and then it gets to 'A Case of You' and he stops mid-sentence," Conner continued. "He lifts his finger to his mouth to silence me, even though he was the one talking. He closes his eyes, and starts mouthing every word, silently singing, with a sad kind of smile on his face." Conner closed his eyes, remembering that night vividly. "I'd never seen that side of Dick before. It's one of my most favorite moments with him. We weren't even seeing each other then. We didn't start seeing each other for almost a year after that but I've never looked at him the same way since then. I know every lyric from that album now."
"So what then Conner," Bruce asked, not harshly, just curious as to why Conner was choosing to share this particular memory with him.
"You're right. He's not just a member of my team, Bruce," Conner spoke; his demeanor dropping from the lighthearted story to the most serious Bruce had ever seen him. "He's in my blood like holy wine. I need him back."
"We'll get him back, Conner."
Dick couldn't stop the tremors that randomly racked his body. His jaw ached, his limbs were sore, and his head throbbed. He wasn't sure how many electro treatments he'd endured; fading in and out of consciousness between treatments was messing with his timeline, messing with his memory and perception.
He didn't know how long he'd been captive. It had definitely been days, maybe longer. When he wasn't undergoing treatments he was sedated. They weren't feeding him; all his necessary nutrients were coming from an IV drip, providing him just enough of the essentials so that Dick's body wouldn't shut down. They hadn't even untied him once. Dick suspected it was because he was nice and secure and they weren't going to risk giving him an opportunity to let him get the drop on them by trying to move him.
Dick slowly turned his head, revealing that he was not alone in the room; one of the Doctor's orderlies hovered over him. He hadn't had a moment to process before his captor descended on him swiftly, clasping one surgical gloved hand over his restrained throat, the other pinching his nostrils. Panicked, Dick pushed his head back against the chair, letting out a strangled scream behind the gag, his eyes widening in fear as his air was cut off. Dick yanked at the restraints, desperate to shove the attacker away. There'd been no time to inhale. Dick's head pressed harder into the headrest, body arching upwards.
Then his captor removed his hand, and Dick deeply inhaled those first crucial breaths through flaring nostrils. With his mouth still gagged tightly, all he could draw breath though was his nose, his chest and abdomen heaving desperately.
He sensed it coming-by intuition or from the experience of his very recent lesson. The man shifted slightly, a quarter-turn toward him. Dick sneaked in a breath this time, the hands clamping down on his face, strong. A groan emanated from his throat, trailed by soft muffled grunts within his sinuses as the membranes made contact with one another, craving for sustenance.
Dick's fisted grip weakened; his eyes blinked rapidly. His captor held on until Dick's vision began to darken. Suddenly he was released. Dick gasped, his initial breath violently desperate as panted quickly.
"You don't know me Bird Boy. But back in the day when you still wearing a cape, you and Daddy-Bats put my brother in jail on some two-bit heist he pulled with the Penguin." The man was just inches from Dick's face, his hand tightening over the neck restraint. Dick could feel his hot breath that reeked of tobacco even through the surgical mask he wore to cover his face as he hovered over Dick's. "He died in that cell two years ago. He got shanked by some asshole that you and the bat probably threw in jail too. I loved my brother. And now I'm gonna make it so that you thank me for every breath you get, Bird boy."
He felt the movement towards him, and the strong hand clamped over his gagged mouth and nose, halting Dick's head movement and cutting off his air supply. Dick moaned desperately under the smothering hand. He felt his head spin and could hear his own heartbeat rushing into his ears. He fought to twist his head free, but succeeded only in exhausting the oxygen in his system. Dick grunted and his eyes rolled back, head spinning from lack of oxygen as his the edges of his vision began to close in.
"Enough!" a mechanical voice bellowed from the entrance to the room and the hands were quickly removed from his throat and face. Dick gasped beneath the gag and tried to pull in as much air as he could through his nose. He inhaled deeply, panting through ragged breaths as the orderly moved out of the way and the Doctor rushed to hover over him, eyes still covered by the mirrored glasses and face still covered by the surgical mask. He checked Dick's pulse, finding it to be rapid and fair and the Doctor took Dick's face between his hands and checked his pupils as Dick's breath's evened and slowed.
"What in the hell were you thinking?" the Doctor let go of Dick's face to turn and shout at the hired orderly.
"Look, Doc, I wasn't going to kill him," the thug raised his hand's up in the air signifying surrender. "I just wanted to have a little fun with the punk."
"You will have your chance to have your fun," the Doctor reprimanded. "Now is not that time. Now go prepare phase two and I do not want to catch you alone with the patient again or I will reconsider your pay-grade."
"Yes sir," the orderly grumbled and left the room.
The Doctor sighed and turned back towards Dick who was finally recovered rom almost suffocating. Dick tried to flex the kinks in jaw but the gag still held steady and provided him little opportunity for relief.
"I'm terribly sorry about that, Richard," As the Doctor spoke he moved away briefly to adjust the IV drip inserted in Dick's arm. "What is the old cliche, hired criminals who don't have a personal vendetta against the Bat are so hard to find these days?"
Dick couldn't suppress the chill that ran down his spine as the Doctor laughed at his own joke. The Doctor pulled at the extended arm above and positioned the video screen into Dick's line of sigh but Dick was confused because he was not hooked up with any of the electroshock apparatus.
The screen sprang to life and started with an interview of a Diplomat from Bialya and Dick was certain now there was a drug also in the IV bag that was relaxing his muscles and keeping him docile because for whatever reason he continued to watch the video footage time and time again, each time with each treatment a new video reel.
Suddenly the interview ended and news footage sprang to life with The Flash and Dick's body tensed, his heart raced, his breathing hitched, and he couldn't suppress a scream at the sight of the hero.
It was as if his body had been shocked, but no current ran through him. As the screen changed to a news report about politics, Dick panted as his body recovered, his muscles twitching, cursing himself at the involuntary response.
"Well, well, well," the Doctor sneered, moving into Dick's line of sight, shining a flash light into Dick's eyes, pleased with Dick's pupils dilated in fear. "That is most certainly a desired response. You're progressing quite well, Mr. Grayson. I want to observe one more thing and then I think we can move on to the next stage in your treatment."
The Doctor grabbed Dick's chin in his hand and forced him to look at the screen as an image of Batman came onto the screen.
"MMMMM!" Dick screamed, squeezing his eyes shut, his bindings keeping him well restrained as he fought them, trying to get away from the fear and the pain he felt as Batman's image stared back at him from the screen.
