Chapter twenty-one
DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING
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Slade and Dick sat together on the bed for a long time, until Slade gently pushed Dick back into a seated position.
"I should get back to working on that antidote," the man said quietly. Dick nodded, though neither of them moved. After a few minutes, Slade cleared his throat. "I'll need more blood. Let me get you some water first."
Slade did so in silence and not a word was spoken between the two as Dick finished the water and Slade got the blood he needed.
"Your life is in my hands, you know," he said quietly, as if the thought had just occurred to him. "If I fuck this up...you're dead."
Dick shuddered before trying to put a more positive - or at least joking - spin on it.
"Well then," he began, wincing at how bad his voice sounded. "You'd better not fuck it up."
Slade chuckled and kissed Dick on the cheek before leaving the boy to his own devices.
When the mercenary returned at half past eleven PM, Dick was curled in on himself and gasping quietly, lips and fingers tinged a terrifying blue.
Forcing himself to stay calm, Slade quickly stripped them both down to their boxers before sliding into the bed next to Dick and pulling the boy's icy form against his own warm one.
The acrobat relaxed almost immediately, though he was still shivering slightly.
Placing a quick kiss on Dick's forehead, Slade settled back and fell asleep soon after.
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Dick woke up hot and coated in sweat. His lips were dry and chapped and his breath came out in sharp gasps. He could feel Slade sleeping beside him, if only because Dick was curled against the mercenary's side with his head on Slade's chest.
Moaning softly, Dick rolled over onto his back before discovering that it became even harder to breath doing that. Squeezing his eyes shut when the world began to spin, Dick slowly pulled himself into a seated position and gripped his head in his hands.
It was then that his body decided it felt nauseous. Dick shuddered but swung both legs over the side of the bed. He blinked when his vision turned fuzzy at the edges for a second or two. While he knew he shouldn't try and walk to the bathroom alone, he was feeling increasingly worse and had a feeling that Slade was not a light sleeper.
So he forced himself to take a deep breath and stand. He remained on his own two feet long enough to close and lock the bathroom door before collapsing gracelessly in front of the toilet.
After five minutes of nothing, his empty stomach decided it didn't really have to throw up after all. Shaking his head when he felt dizzy, Dick used the sink to pull himself upwards and over to the window which he carefully opened, sighing quietly when the cold night air hit his face.
He sat on the windowsill and closed his eyes, relaxing for the first time since he'd been poisoned.
It lasted all of thirty seconds until a dart landed in his neck.
He lost consciousness soon after that.
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When Dick regained consciousness some time later, he found himself in an abandoned warehouse, hands tied above his head with his feet hanging a few inches above the floor. His head was pounding and the naked bulb above him was not helping matters.
"Hello, Mr. Grayson. It's been awhile, hasn't it?"
Dick tensed at the voice, eyes wide as he tried to find it's owner.
No, please. He begged as the man stepped into the light. Anyone but him.
"Zucco," he growled, though his voice was hoarse. The man chuckled lightly, holding a cane in one hand as he walked towards Dick.
"It's been awhile, dear boy," the man crooned, walking forward and running a hand down Dick's cheek. "How many years? Over ten, I know that much. Have you missed me?"
"What do you want with me?" Dick demanded, though his voice sounded strained.
"I want you dead," Zucco answered bluntly, grinding when Dick's eyes went wide. The man then gestured around them. "Of course, dying here or by poison is less than right. Wouldn't you agree?"
Dick opened his mouth to respond, but Zucco shoved a rag between his lips and sealed it with duct tape before tightly tying a blindfold around DIck's eyes.
"I think," the man hissed in Dick's ear, grinning when the boy shuddered. "It would be rather...poetic, I think, if you were to die like them. Would you agree?"
With that, Zucco left Dick alone as the boy began to panic. He fought against the ropes holding him off the ground, though when he felt blood running down his arms and the sting of broken flesh he forced himself to relax.
Oh god, please. He thought, entire body shivering despite the heat of the warehouse. Please, someone find me.
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I know it was a short story but this is where I really really wanted to end it. Is that bad?
I'm sorry. Trying to make it tense, ya know?
ANYWAY, PLEASE REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!
WHAT IS GOOD OR BAD?
DO YOU GET WHAT ZUCCO WAS IMPLYING WHEN HE SAID DICK SHOULD DIE LIKE THEM?
REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW!
THANKS!