(A/N)- It wouldn't be Whumptober without me hurting Robin in some fashion. Have an apprentice!fic!
Prompt used was No. 16 On A Need To Know Basis: Recovery/Scars/Aftermath.
Warning for *deep breath* needles, major injuries, and very Stockholm-y dissociation by an abuse victim.
Disclaimer: DC would be wise to give me the rights to its properties but alas.
Static
His ankle stabbed sharply with every limping step. Robin squeezed his mouth tightly, taking his breath in through his nose to hold back on the urge to cry out. His left hand gripped his slack right elbow, the arm hanging awkwardly by his side as he crept through the shadows, a furtive, timid figure hiding from the eyes in the sky and on the street level.
His back burned, his uniform sticky and caught on the drying blood from the deep gash that cut diagonally across his shoulder almost down to his ribs. His head throbbed, the left side of his face bruising purple. Every step made him wince, made pain blossom with sharp explosions through his injuries. But he pressed on.
With a wilting sensation of relief Robin rounded the corner to the hideout. He limped quicker now, ignoring the flashing darkness on the corners of his vision, the dizziness, the sudden tightening and nausea inside his stomach.
Just get in, just get in, he willed himself.
He made it up the three steps to the large, unmarked warehouse door and reached for the handle.
His hand closed around it and then... froze. For a moment he couldn't move, his head blanking out in white noise.
Robin felt himself falling away from his own body, seeing the door through a disconnected filter, like it was someone else's hand trembling on the cold metal.
He heard himself exhale and then his body moved, pulling open the door, shuffling in quickly and letting it fall closed behind him.
Slade was already standing there, arms crossed over his chest and single eye narrowed with withering displeasure and tranquil anger.
"What happened?" he snapped.
Robin sparked back to life briefly, the jolt of terror shooting down his body from Slade's unhappy tone waking him to alert attention like an icy splash of water.
He lowered his head and looked at the floor, letting himself fall slowly back down into the static.
"B—broken rib," he explained. "Dislocated shoulder. Incision across my back. Smashed my face on a wall. Twisted ankle." Robin's own words sounded far away to him, no emotion in his voice, just a dull, robotic monotone.
Slade said nothing for a moment, then stalked forward and grabbed for Robin's arm—the bad one—giving a yank.
Robin yelped, pain whiting out his senses as he stumbled forward. Slade quickly let go but let his hand land behind Robin's head, fingers gripping around his neck, steering him forward.
Robin let himself be directed, watching the dark gray hallways pass in an incoherent blur, tripping and wincing every time his weight landed wrong on his injured ankle.
He bit his lip until it turned white and prayed to stay conscious long enough to reach the medical room.
-TT-
"What were you thinking?!" Slade chided sharply, rubbing another splash of antiseptic across the gash in Robin's back with a thick cloth, smearing away the blood and dried scabs.
It was the first he'd spoken since they'd made it in, Slade all but hauling Robin onto the table and popping his shoulder back into place before stalking over to the medical cabinets and yanking them open with irritation. Robin had quickly and methodically stripped off his armor, gloves, and shirt to allow Slade access to the long tear in his back. The antiseptic stung sharply as the cloth wiped the wound clean.
"I told you not to attempt that jump!" Slade barked, tossing aside the cloth. Fingers prodded at Robin's skin as he examined the cut, and Robin could feel the weight of Slade's displeasure, tingling on his back.
He kept his eyes and head down, staring squarely at his lap, his face gray and blank.
"I thought I could make it..." he mumbled towards his lap.
Slade snorted. "Clearly not," he bit, acidly. He leaned away, giving a grim pronouncement. "You'll need stitches. Hold still," he ordered.
Robin didn't even stir, the order falling around his head and shoulders like invisible gravity, his mind already retreating backwards into the hazy rain curtain of numbness.
He didn't even feel the needle as it pinched through his skin.
Slade worked a bit slower now, more carefully, but still efficient, stitching up the nasty-looking wound with military precision.
"Your recklessness tonight was unacceptable, Robin," Slade told him sternly as he worked. "And not just because you'll be out of commission for six weeks." The man's one eye narrowed, brow furrowing behind his mask. "Shall we review your list of blunders?" he asked with dripping sardonic bite.
Robin said nothing, only curled up a fraction tighter, bangs shadowing his eyes, his stomach clenching.
Slade didn't wait for an answer, beginning to list off the night's failures. "You tripped the alarm almost immediately, and ran from the security drones instead of disabling them, allowing them to summon human reinforcement." He pinched the needle deftly through Robin's flesh. "I ordered to you to go left at that hallway junction; you went right, and trapped yourself in the laboratory." He yanked on the end of the thread. "You're lucky you weren't shot."
Slade's scolding washed over him like so much pulsing noise. Robin registered almost none of the words, only the disparaging tone, and every cognitive sense whispered for him to shrink, shrink, shrink. So he faded into the numb haze, drifting off into memory. Slade's words subtly guided him to that claustrophobic lab, hiding in the dark, squeezed into... a tight ball under a labtable as bullets ricocheted and splintered around him...
His heart knocked painfully inside his chest, breath caught in his throat, hearing Slade curse in his earpiece but unable to focus past the roaring panic ringing in his head.
Help came unexpectedly; there was a shadowy fizzle and a flash of red, and a security guard went flying and was pinned to the wall by a xenothium construct.
Shouts as the security team turned to face the new threat. Thuds and bangs and discharges as Red X zipped in and out, disposing of each of them swiftly.
He teleported behind the labtable to reload a canister into his belt and gave Robin a cheery tilt of his head.
"Hey kid," he greeted brightly. "Fancy meeting you here."
Robin didn't answer, and as soon as Red X stood up out of cover scrambled away, pushing up to his feet and leaping frantically for the industrial air grate on the ceiling. One hand grabbed the stem of a hanging lamp, one threaded fingers through the grate and yanked it from its moorings.
Red X snapped his head back around at the crash.
"Wait, kid—!"
Robin had already shoved himself into the vent, crawling quickly through the cramped metal quarters, struggling to breathe through the vice locked around his chest.
He made it to open air and stumbled out of the duct, heaving, gasping with frantic gulps. His eyes darted around the rooftop. Hearing the static of Red X teleporting behind him, he picked a direction and ran.
"Kid, stop!" Red X called, the words bouncing off the back of his head. "Look, whatever that old creep has on you I can help—"
Robin tossed back a smoke grenade, dropping it haphazardly rather than throwing it with any kind of aim or precision. It burst right in the thief's face and he swore loudly, disappearing from sight for a moment. Robin pulled up short on the ledge, briefly glancing down into the alley below. He eyed the gap between the buildings in front of him. It looked a little far, but he could make it with enough of a lead-up.
"Don't try it!" Slade warned him suddenly in his ear. "Robin, do not attempt that jump, do you hear me?! That is an order, apprentice!"
Robin ignored the warning, taking a couple steps back and getting a running start.
His right foot was just beginning to push off from the ledge when the bladed shuriken sheared through him, slicing across his back with fierce pain.
He gasped, and then he was falling, and several things happened in rapid succession.
First, he slammed face first into the opposite wall, and nearly blacked out from the concussion.
He dropped, smacked the side of a fire escape railing, turned over, continued falling. Tried to grab a window ledge lower down only to feel his shoulder rip.
Finally ended up feet down on a parked car that he immediately splayed backwards onto and rolled off of.
Only then was he able to get enough air to scream, and it came out warbling and pitiful, agony rippling all down his body as the initial shock wore off.
He was horribly paralyzed from the pain for several moments, weakly scrambling with his hands to move, get up, get away. Sparking fizzed in one of his ears; groaning, he reached up and dug the remains of his earpiece out. The device was horribly mangled, probably from the impact, and the other one was glitching, static breaking Slade's voice up into fragments.
Robin dropped the broken comm piece wearily. Just one more thing he'd be inevitably punished for once he got back.
There was no dread at the thought, just tired resignation. Robin pushed up to his feet, grimacing as his injuries shrieked.
A soft fizzle as Red X appeared near him, apologetic cringe wrinkling his blank eyeholes.
"Jeez, sorry kid. Didn't mean for you to take a spill like that."
Robin hissed, shying back like a frightened, cornered animal, heartbeat racing, lungs tight. He splayed against the wall defensively, mentally calculating the distance around Red X to the alley entrance.
Counting, counting...
Red X's shoulders and posture softened oddly. "Don't go back to him," he said, his voice laced with genuine concern. "Let me take you to a hospital. I'll tip off the police and the Titans. You'd be safe," he promised.
Robin shook his head, pushed off with his good foot, and somehow managed to run the fourteen steps to the end of the alley.
"I'll never be safe," strained out of him as he dodged around the thief.
He made sure he was already gone by the time Red X looked around the corner.
Robin emerged to the realization that Slade was almost finished wrapping his chest, to stabilize his broken rib. His tone still sounded harsh and scolding. But he was winding down, which meant that Robin's expected punishment was due.
Once again there was no fear or dread, just the slightest twinge in his stomach. Head down, eyes down, tune back in so he could respond properly to Slade's demanding questions. Mechanically, he pulled his clothes back on, easing his shirt hem carefully over the bandages, sliding his gloves over his shaking hands.
"Could you not hear me, or did you think you could ignore me?" Slade was growling.
Robin unstuck his dry lips. "No sir," he whispered. "I could hear you."
Slade leaned back, pulling to full height. "Then what went wrong?" he asked harshly.
His throat tightened involuntarily. Robin stared down at his hands, now folded into fists on his thighs.
"I..." A lump strangled his voice a second and he swallowed it thickly. "I panicked." He ducked lower. "I'm sorry."
Slade stood there silently a long moment. At length, he gave a long sigh.
"My pre-operation research failed to account for the new motion sensor tripwires," he admitted. "Triggering the alarm that prematurely was not supposed to happen." His eye turned hard again. "But I know you've been better trained than to immediately come apart at the seams the minute something goes off-plan."
Robin bit the inside of his cheek, sinking guilt moving through him. He was better trained. He was quick, efficient, silent. He couldn't explain why the alarm had jolted him so much, except maybe...
...Maybe it had been his worried split-second thought that the lab was high profile enough that... the Titans might come.
"You need to focus. I can't always have eyes on the situation to help you out of it," Slade continued. He snorted. "Though a lot of good that would have done tonight, with you determined to disobey me."
"I'm sorry," he mumbled again.
"Apologies mean nothing if you let it happen again," Slade spat. Robin didn't respond right away and the man seized Robin's right wrist, jerking his hand up. "Hey!" he snapped. "Listen to me!"
Robin flinched sharply, giving a tiny, frightened gasp. He squeezed his eyes closed, bracing.
A tense few seconds passed, in which Robin's heartbeat was loud in his ears.
Slade sighed again, and released Robin's arm. "You did well not getting caught this time," he said, softer. "But I expect better from you the next. Understood?"
Robin nodded, uncurling slightly in relief. "Yes master," he acknowledged. He shifted to begin getting down from the table.
The man's arms reached out to steady him, firm but not squeezing, easing him carefully onto his feet. Robin held back a wince as his twisted ankle twinged, just the corners of his mouth pinching.
Slade's hands lingered on his shoulders a moment, taking one last careful look over him to make sure there was nothing else to attend to. "Can you make it back to the room on your own?" he asked.
Another nod, automatic, mechanical, accompanied by a soft, "Yes." Eyes that wouldn't make contact. He was already fading into his protective shell of white noise and static.
"Good."
Slade stepped back, all gentleness gone, the hands lifting off Robin's shoulders and clasping behind the villain's back as he looked down sternly, eye narrow.
"You will skip breakfast and lunch tomorrow," he pronounced, tone harsh and final. "And you will stay locked in your room, quietly, for the next three days. Panicking does not excuse or forgive you the fact that you repeatedly disobeyed direct orders tonight, apprentice."
A sinking pulled down at his stomach. Of course. He stared straight ahead at the vague point on the floor he'd chosen and did not argue.
Slade sneered down and seemed almost disappointed at how passively Robin accepted his grounding. "If you make any excessive noise," he warned, "the lights will be turned off, and they will remain off until the three days are up. Do I make myself clear?"
A numb, whispered, "Yes master," was the reply.
Slade jerked his chin. "Dismissed," he said.
Robin's feet stirred and he was already moving towards the door, motions stiff and careful, limping, trying not to put too much weight on his ankle.
Wishing there was enough left in him to feel... something.
The hallways blurred. He knew the route by memory, his body turning by itself around the corners.
He didn't look up even when he reached the long hallway. There was still a vague relief tingling through him at the familiar path to his door. Quiet for three days? He could do that.
He rarely spoke anyways, now.
He wished Slade hadn't felt the need to add the threat of turning off the lights. Slade knew how much he hated being left alone in the dark.
Three more steps. Reach up. Press the button to open. Slade would lock it behind him from the building controls on his end.
Inside. Two steps. He waited in place for the door to slide closed behind him.
It latched with an ominous thunk!
One step, backwards, as he sagged into the closed door. A shaky exhale escaped him. He blinked slowly through the gray-white florescence, seeing nothing, thinking of nothing, and listening to nothing but the quiet wash inside his ears.
His arms came up dully, hands clutching his elbows as he slowly slid down to the floor.
(A/N)- I'm so sorry.