Dick awoke to the beeping of a heart monitor and the stench of rubbing alcohol.
A hospital.
Dick hated hospitals more than anything on the planet. They smelled like old people who had bathed in sanitizer all their lives. He opened his eyes, and it took way too much effort. The bright light of the room cast down on him gaily, and he saw Bruce Wayne sleeping in the chair next to his bed.
There was one of those damn tubes up his nose. He hated those things too. An IV line and several other hoses and wires decorated his arms and bare chest. His stomach bore a new scar that was an ugly shade of purple. He lifted the blankets and gave a sigh of relief that at least his boxers were there. He shouldn't be embarrassed about that kind of thing, but hey – he was only 15.
He stretched for the cup of water that was on the nightstand, but he couldn't quite reach it. His fingers barely made it to the rim of the glass, but when he tried pulling it towards him, the cup fell over and water spilled all over the floor.
Bruce started at the noise, snapping his head up and looking around in alarm.
Robin cursed. He reclined back on the so called "mattress", wincing in pain.
"Sorry," he said.
Bruce smiled and scooted closer to the boy. "I'm glad you're awake." Dick opened his mouth, but Bruce answered him before he could speak. "You were out for three and a half days, Dick. It's Tuesday."
Dick glimpsed at the window sadly. He was running out of time. He looked back at Bruce. "The team –"
"They're all fine. Sportsmaster was taken care of…They're mainly upset about you," Bruce said. He watched Dick shift uncomfortably. "I didn't tell them anything, but you better do it soon. Wally almost had a cow…" Bruce sighed. "You really gave us a scare this time. Your lungs were shutting down because the toxin was leaving no space for oxygen in your cells, you had extremely low blood pressure, and when you fell you went into shock. Simultaneously, as if it couldn't get any worse, your liver was failing due to all the poison it couldn't filter. You needed a transplant immediately."
Dick bit his lip. He really should have died. If Bruce wasn't, well, Bruce, he would never have gotten a donor in time. He thought back to that night, and the memories began to resurface all at once – the pain, the thought of dying just like his parents, the way he'd given up so willingly. Why did his life have to be so screwed up?
"Fortunately you came out of surgery just fine. Your lungs are functioning back to normal now, and you should be out of the hospital by tomorrow night. The poison however, is still underway," Bruce's smile faded completely. "Leslie's been working on that antidote. She's almost there, Dick."
Almost there. It should be reassuring, shouldn't it?
It wasn't; instead it just bounced off of Dick like another meaningless pair of words.
God, where was his sanguinity? He used to be the positive one. He used to be the little troll who could make everyone laugh and lighten everyone's mood, even Batman's. Now, things were just so messed up.
Dick's eyes began to water, and he tried to wipe the tears away before Bruce saw. Bruce's hand caught his forearm and pulled it away. "Dick, look at me."
Dick sniffled and slowly met his mentor's eyes. What he found in them, he didn't expect. "It's okay to be afraid."
Dick's eyes stung and a lump formed in his throat. He let out a noise that was supposed to be a snicker, but sounded nothing alike. "That's coming from you, Batman."
Bruce sat down on his bed and placed his hand on his adopted son's shoulder. "I was terrified when you were kidnapped, and even more so when I saw you fall off that building, or when Leslie told me about the poison. But sometimes fear gives you the strength you need." Dick gazed up at him with glistening blue eyes. "Dick, I'm here for you, and so are your friends."
Dick felt a salty tear drop off his chin. "You and me, we're invincible, remember? Batman and the Boy Wonder! We'll work through this together, and you will pull through. You always do."
Dick smiled and Bruce pulled him into a hug. The boy had grown so much since he had taken him in at the age of nine. He had matured and become a leader much like himself. But Bruce also knew that while they shared many things in common, that Dick would never be the Batman. He didn't have the severity for it. He would become his own person, and Bruce wouldn't want it any other way.
Dick refused to use the crutches. There was already enough about his kidnapping on the news and public media; he didn't want an entire new story about his little "accident". He limped to the front doors of the manor, but before he could knock, Alfred opened the door and pulled him into a tight embrace.
Dick wrapped his arms around the old man, although he would hardly describe him as old. Alfred was a beast when it came to doing things, plus his cooking was godly.
Alfred cleared his throat and smiled at Dick. "Master Richard, I've made a fresh batch of cookies and a tall glass of hot chocolate. I do hope you have an appetite, I could barely stand the idea of you eating that dungeon food."
Dick stepped inside. No matter how sick and awful he felt, he couldn't turn down that.
Hope you guys liked it! I know it's sad. The next chapter is really sad too. Anyways, please review!