His arms were heavily wrapped in duct tape to the metal chair. He was sat up in a bright room. If his eyes closed a shock was sent rippling through his body. A wooden dowel kept him from biting his tongue. He had been here for an undetermined amount of time, but he thinks at least three days. He had been freed several times, to eat, drink, and use the restroom. But then he had been beaten down again to be restrained in the chair. They hadn't asked him a question or spoken to him. They were masked and treated him like an object or animal shoving him and pushing him where they wanted him. Inflicting pain when he needed to be corrected. He eventually stopped trying to communicate with them.
They would not let him sleep. His thoughts were muddled. He was becoming confused. Not sure if is this was happening, or if he was trapped in nightmare. They had freed him to eat but he kept tossing the food to the floor trying to incite them to strike him into unconsciousness. But they won't. They forced him back in the chair, taped him down, then poured a sweet tasting protein shake into his mouth. He hated that it tasted good. He closed his eyes again the tiredness, but the shock arched through his body bring back to full awareness. The dowel was between his teeth again. He didn't remember when that happened. His eyes fell shut and found himself screaming in pain, his chest heaving as he desperately pried his eyes open. What did they want?
He found a spot on the wall and he stared at it. It was the only form a rest he could find. His body seemed to fade in the distance.
He came to with a jerk and a small cry as someone yanked him to his feet with a bruising grip on the underside of his arm. His feet threatened to buckle under him as someone else grabbed him on the other side. He felt nauseous as he was pulled along, his head throbbing and his mouth dry. He tried his best to get his feet underneath him as he was yanked down a hall he did not recognize to relieve the bruising grip. They shoved him into an overstuffed arm chair, and after days of sharp edges and pain, he couldn't stop his hands from running over the soft velvet cushion. Was he at Wayne manor? Could he sleep? He head lolled to the side and his eyes slipped closed.
He was on the floor, his knees bruised and folded underneath him, his hands curled into fists against the hard floor, his face a hot flash of pain. He was frustrated and tears started to pool in his eyes. "What do you want?" he moaned. Part of him wished they would haul him back in that chair. The only small slice of comfort he had in days. He was granted the opposite as a boot slammed into his side, and he groaned in pain curling in on his middle. It took him a minute to shake the pain fog to realize he was being led into a bathroom. He was sat in a chair and was being a fed a bottle of water. The taste was amazing until he began to feel it was too much. He tried to pull away and began choking as the rest of the water poured down his body. Cruel hands shook him as if he was the problem for not behaving. He was shoved into a stall next where he took the opportunity to relieve himself. And then he was being grabbed and shoved out of the room again.
"Please," he mumbled. They hadn't fed him, but he doubted he could eat with the amount of water he had just consumed. No one spoke to him and he saw no one's face. "Please" he begged. He didn't even know what he was saying. He was slowly going crazy. He didn't know who had him or what they wanted. They shoved him back into his hard chair, one man holding his arm while the other one duct taped him back down. "No," he protested. He could feel a tear trickle down his face. A faceless man grabbed his head and applied the bite guard he tried to pathetically struggle. But in the end there was nothing he could do but submit. He tried to hold in a cry as the door slammed shut on his torture, but he couldn't stop tears from tracking down his face.
He was hot all over and it hurt. He didn't know how long he had been here. The room was never dark. The only other thing in room to look at was a camera. They watched him all the time. Sometimes he would close his eyes quickly just to feel the shock through his body. That meant he was still alive.
His eyes zeroed in on the crack in the wall. It gave him a little bit of peace. When would they be back. He was weak. Couldn't walk without the assistance of his jailers, but even that little bit of torture made him feel like he had a purpose. Survive. Everytime the door creaked open he was overwhelmed with feelings he couldn't control. Dread and hope doing a waltz in his head. He almost forgot what happiness felt like. How long had it been? The sleep deprivation was getting to him. Survive.
They hadn't come for him in awhile. Had they forgotten? Thirst was becoming an issue. Did they leave him? He took a deep breath and then closed his eyes. The electric shock rippled through his body and he gasped opening his eyes with a mournful cry. So they were still there watching. What did he do to deserve this abandonment. "I'm sorry," he tried to say around the bite in his mouth. "I'm sorry….please…"
He was staring at the wall, his mind wondering. His mouth a desert, his head pounding and hot. His body aching and rigid and twitching due to the electricity. Silence was interrupted by an explosion, dirt and debris rained down his wall. He held his breath. He had imagined a similar scenario in the past, and it had crushed him when it had been some kind of waking dream. Not real. Not real.
He couldn't turn his head, forced to keep staring at that wall now, his hands flexed curled into fists over and over, trying to lose some of the anxiety. His eyes slid to the camera were they watching?
Soft footsteps approached him and then a serious familiar face appeared in his vision. "Grayson," he heard the boy say reaching for his bite guard. Dick gasped and pulled away coughing as his mouth was freed. Dream. Dream. He rolled his head away with a sob, his nails digging into the chair. He didn't think he could survive this disappointment. This was too much. He felt a cool hand cup his cheek and a thumb brush away his tears. "Grayson. What's happened?" the dream asked. No. Too much. But he couldn't escape the gentle touch.
Then the hand was off his face and on his arm and working on removing the duct tape. He thought he could hear more explosions and he had to stop himself closing his eyes against the noise. Suddenly free his arms dropped in his lap and he could feel the boy rubbing feeling back into them. "Grayson…Brother, can you stand?" He felt the boy trying to drag him to his feet. Never had a fantasy gotten this far. He was so hot. He swallowed and tried to get his feet under him, but he was too shaky and he felt himself sliding in a controlled fall to the floor. He felt the boy manipulating his limbs, protecting his head until he was laying in the boy's lap. The boy stroked his hair gently. "It's okay brother, you rest. We will get you out of here." Tears began to flow from his closed eyes as he realized there was no pain. No shock. No shaking to get him back up. Only soft gentle touches.
He was conscious before he realized he was. He was leaning against a small body, Damian. His head on his shoulder. Someone else was feeling along his body, but they were not doing it unkindly. "Water," he mumbled. "Please." He felt the grip on him tighten, and hated himself for feeling fear.
"Dick?" a gravely deep voice responded, and a large cool hand tilted his face towards the new voice. "I thought you'd be out still," the voice said gently. "I'm sorry the water is in the car but we will be there soon."
Dick closed his eyes in disappointment and swallowed thickly. And then opened them in surprised when no shock came. No water but no shock? He was confused. Where was he? The voices over his head continued to speak softly as he drifted. Then he felt himself being lifted and cradled. His head being cradled gently held against a hard body. His head pounded and he gave an embarrassing whine of feeling sick. He hated being carried, but escape under his own power was impossible.
"Hot," he complained. A wave of nausea rippled through his body and he groaned and sudden a wave cold chilled his body. He was so miserable he didn't even notice his rescuer had set him down until the first spasm of sickness had passed his lips. He felt tears start trickling down his face as another painful spasm emptying his remaining stomach on to the ground. "Easy Dickie, I got you." A couple more dry heaves and then he was given small sips of water and a cool cloth draped across his hot face.
The next time Dick became aware he was resting on his side in the car. Damian was crouched in front of him his hand stroking his hair gently. "Father says they hurt you for sleeping. I will not allow that to happen."
Dick closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. When he opened his eye a faceless mask was staring at him reaching for him. He reared back in fear, "No!" he screamed and the faceless man grabbed his wrists tightening its grip and started shaking him.
"Grayson!" he opened his eyes to find the worried eyes of his brother on him. Dick closed his eyes his chest heaving as he caught his breath. "I'm sorry," he said softly, ashamed. Damian pulled Dick to him, "Don't be ridiculous," Damian muttered then maneuvered them both so Dick could wrap his arms around his brother. Dick couldn't sleep. When he started to drift off he would jerk awake and tighten his grip on Damian. So instead he lay quietly not quite asleep.
Dick lay on the med cot in the cave. He was feverish badly sleep deprived and dehydrated. Damian stayed close, his presence was calming to Dick. Bruce and Alfred had hooked him up to a saline solution with some antibiotics and gave him something to help him sleep, but he was still fighting it. "Dick, you need to sleep," Bruce told him gently.
Dick knew Bruce was right. "Why?" Bruce knew what he was asking. "They were researching torture techniques. We found rooms of files." Bruce wiped a tear off Dick's face. "They chose you because you were strong. If they hadn't have grabbed you they would have taken one of your brothers."
Dick eyes blinked sleepily. "Close your eyes and let the medication do it's thing." Bruce continued. "Someone will be with you." Damian laid his hand on Dick's arm. "You're safe."
"Sleep Grayson." And he did.