Warning: Includes cutting triggers.

"Control yourself, take only what you need from it." MGMT


Just One More Taste (Again)

By: Cas


Chapter Two:

Barbara Gordon awoke with a start. She blinked heavily, hid her face back into the pillow, and remembered where she was. Only Grayson would have memory foam pillows. There was also the filter of noise coming from his fan, tv, tablet and God knew what else. (A newly acquired bad habit she meant to get to the bottom of). Drawing herself up she pulled away the covers, tossing them onto the slumbering Richard Grayson.

1. Bathroom.

2. Drink of water.

She tiptoed around to take care of things before confronting the fridge. She found only a package of cheese and a carton of orange juice. Heaving a sigh she drew the O.J. out and drank her fill. Complacent she returned to the bed and was somewhat surprised to see Dick awake and aware. "Hi'ya, sweet pea," she greeted.

"Hi."

Barbara snuggled back under the covers, purposefully kicking her cold feet against his shins.

"Stop, Babs." He muttered, shaking her away.

"Billionaire's kid should have heated floors, alls I'm saying."

A grunt and nothing more as he turned away.

"Billionaire's kid should have actual food in his fridge."

Dick snorted. "Alls you're saying?"

"Alls I'm saying," she chirped.

"I'll get food tomorrow."

Smiling, she turned and checked the time on her phone. 3:45 AM. "You wanna talk or sleep?" In all honesty she was awake, her necessary time allotment for sleep was about five hours. Should she try and rest more? Yeah, but … She wasn't wired that way. None of the Bats were. Though Bruce was getting older, he'd probably be needing more sleep sooner rather than later.

"Neither. Sleep or whatever. You left. I woke up and you were gone."

She relied on her intuition/obvious facts. Dick was a talker but tonight didn't want to talk. Dick almost always thought about sex, yet tonight he needed her like 'The Lost Boys' needed Wendy. (She preferred it that way). There were also the obvious bruises littering his body, but they were faint enough that they had to equal slight pressure. He hadn't been hit. Perhaps restrained? She'd have assumed self induced, but that couldn't explain the few marks littering his face.

He'd been hazy all night long, partially aware. Probably drugs. Jason had said he'd either drank or used. "Were you robbed or something? Too out of it to stop the guys?"

Dick's breathing hitched and his eyes squeezed shut. "Yeah, sure … but I don't want to talk about it."

"No, it's more than that…"

The Romani sat up, shoving her away before getting to his feet. "Stop with the detective work, ok?" He offered a fake laugh, trying to diffuse the situation. "If I wanted to be analyzed I'd have stayed at the manor."

"Sorry. Ok, ok, ok…"

"And stop with the 'oks'!" Dick took in a deep breath but that wasn't enough. He knew what was happening as it happened. This was a panic attack. He struggled to breathe, yet held out a hand to show Barbara it was ok. He focused, zoned. His frenzy breathing continued.

In through the nose.

Out through the mouth.

He could do this.

Barbara patiently waited. She knew he knew how to get through this. They'd all been trained to deal with panic.

Finally his breathing normalized and Dick gave his head a shake. "Sorry that took so long."

"…Is it ok to ask questions?"

"I'd rather you not. And no need to tattle to Batman."

She ignored the slight and sat up, easily pulling her legs Indian style. "You're safe. You're always safe with me." A pause. The fact that he'd referred to his mentor as Batman rather than Bruce (in this situation) signaled the two must have fought.

"I know I'm safe!" Oh boy, he was mad.

"I'll give you a few days, but I'm going to ask what happened eventually. I won't stop till I find out you're ok. But for now let's both just be, ok?"

"You're a shit, you know that?! A fucking shit!" Dick lashed out. His anger unbearable and abusive. "This isn't a crime to solve! This is me telling you to stay outta my personal life!"

Clearing her throat Barbara shifted and got to her feet. She grabbed her jeans, keys, jacket and t-shirt and went to the bathroom, Dick trailing behind. She shut him out and locked the door.

"You always have to invade and intervene!" Dick thumped a fist against the door so hard it vibrated in the walls. "I want you out, ok? Ok, ok? Enough 'oks' for you?! Out. And leave my fucking key." He stomped back to the bedroom, slammed the door and listened as the girl did as instructed. He trembled, a mixture of regret and anger and a whole lot of other emotions he didn't want to read into.

Instead he crawled back into bed and covered his head with his arms and tucked his knees to his chest. 'You're a bad person.' He told himself.


It was late afternoon before Bruce showed up. He didn't even bother to knock. Dick wondered how he'd gotten a key. Sometimes having the Batman as your 'dad' sucked. "Do you need rehab?"

Dick rolled his eyes as anger mounted, yet again. Since before Barbara had left sores had been opening in his mouth. He counted about ten, but in all honesty had no idea how many were littered across his gums and on his tongue. Enough that it hurt to talk and eat, he knew that much. He attempted anyway. "Babs sent you?"

Bruce's glare hardened at the strange slur Dick produced with his words. "Are you drunk right now?!"

"No." Just mouth sores. "I know you guys love to assume I'm always fucked up, but no, I'm not drunk."

"You're talking odd, but pupils seem normal." Bruce caught Dick's chin. "Open."

Dick stuck out his tongue in a fit of rebelliousness and pulled away.

"Minor aphthae. Stress induced?" Bruce declared at the various sores. "Gums as well?"

"I know how to deal with stress, ok?! I'll meditate and guzzle some 'Magic Mouthwash'. We'll all forget and go back to normal."

"Normal." Bruce repeated the word, as if discovering it for the first time. "Why are you so stressed?"

And here he'd been thinking the mouth sores were a pain.

"You were hostile to a friend." Bruce said upon realization that the eighteen year old wasn't going to talk. "Yes, Barbara told me."

"Of course she did. Her need to be perfect easily allows her to find fault in everyone else. You know, she's so busy finding fault in everyone that-."

"Dick." The interruption was lined with annoyance. "You're deflecting."

Jesus Christ! Dick ran the tip of his tongue against his partially fake tooth. It'd been shattered when he was eleven, and while half remained it's normal self, the other half had been cheaply crafted. Bruce had offered to pay for better, but Dick had refused. Since then he'd shattered another and the sculpting was so perfect Dick couldn't even remember where it was. It was so seamless that he'd almost asked to replace the other, but in the end had refused. The foreign tooth hurt his tongue if he rubbed them together, and helped to focus his attention. "Can we be done?"

"Barbara is right. Something is off."

That was too much to handle. Dick clutched his fists and held back a scream. All he wanted was support from his family. He didn't want the poking and prying. He didn't want them to know.

He couldn't have them know.

If they knew the truth … Oh, God, if the they knew.

'Bad person, bad person. Shut up. Bad person. Can't go over, can't under, bad people - shut up!' The panic was rising. Dick reverted it to anger. "Get out!" He shrieked, so unexpected. "Get out or I'll call the fucking cops!"

Bruce wasn't moved physically, but something moved behind his eyes. "Just like that? Your mood alters just like that?"

"I don't give a damn how my mood alters, I want you out! OUT!"

Bruce observed momentarily, noticing Dick's increasing hitches as he breathed. "You're going into panic."

"Out! Get the fuck out! Get the fuck out!" Dick didn't know where this was coming from, he picked up the nearest object, a glass cup, and hurled it at his guardian. "Out! Out! Get the fuck out!"

It was damn near heart breaking when Bruce actually left, slamming the door behind him.

Dick tried to control his breathing. How much information had he given away? What if Bruce and Barbara suspected? Even an inkling, if they knew it'd be too much… the panic rose and Dick dug his fingers into his hair and pulled hard. He stumbled forward, thinking of the many cases Bruce had taught him.

Self harm was a form of cope, and right now, Dick needed to cope without family or friends. He pulled out a cheap razor and unearthed a hammer, needle nose and regular screw driver from his tool box. He set to work extracting the razor blade, aware of the noisy thumps created by his hammer. When he finally got to the thin blade he retreated to his bedroom and sat down on the edge of his unmade bed.

No.

No, no, no…

(Eyes closed, quick, hard pressure applied, and slice)

Fuck! That kinda hurt … Dick clamped a hand across his shoulder, waiting a few seconds for the blood to come. Somewhere in those seconds his eyes flickered up and pain forced his brain to zone. He was no longer thinking of the bad, just the pain, and that was just so perfect. It was so much easier. When the blood came it was thick and heavy.

Hot liquid rose up underneath his palm and between his fingers. Dick felt the warm liquid begin to drip down his arm, and it felt good.

Why did it feel so good?

It wasn't till he realized that the blood wasn't stopping, but rather creating a puddle on his blankets and sheets, that he released the hand and looked to assess the damage.

Tried to look rather, he had to confine his embarrassment and shame (because, yeah, he'd fucking cut himself). The blood was making it hard to tell, but a careful swipe reviled a near half-inch gash, blood beginning to leak to cover the displayed white below. Dick realized his choices were stitches or…

Getting up, tightly holding the cut, he retreated to the bathroom. He rustled in the cabinets and found a wrap, bandages, and then warmed a washcloth with water. He wiped the cut and saw that it was pointless, blood seemed all the more eager to flow with water. Ignoring it, he forced two large bandages over. He quickly wrapped the offending, blood stained mark, tight as necessary and waited. He watched, somewhat exhilarated, as blood continued to seep.

It's steady stream was slowly leaking though, but he'd be fine with more applied pressure. He tightened the wrap around his arm.

Scar? Yeah, probably, but he was Nightwing. He could easily explain that away.

There were heavy droplets of blood littering the sink and the floor, so, accompanied with a heavy sigh, he set to the task of cleaning.

TWO DAYS LATER:

Bruce and Jason had just finished patrol, it was 3:15 AM and he'd sent the youth to shower. A sound to his left focused his attention. It wasn't the noise that surprised him, it was the weight of the sound. He recognized the foot falls and glanced over to confirm it was Dick approaching him. Something was off, Dick held a hand clapped over his mouth tightly, as if trying to hide the lower portion of his face.

Was the kid drunk?

No.

High?

Didn't appear to be.

"What's wrong?" Forever the guardian, he was concerned, but part of him refused to be nice to the eighteen year old. Dick had been obscenely rude to Barbara Gordon and himself. An explanation would be required.

Dick pulled his hand away ever so slightly, but still held it to make it so it was impossible to see whatever he was hiding. "Swollen."

Bruce got to his feet and approached, only to have Dick dance away. He felt anger begin to lash it's head. Anger and confusion. He had a feeling this had to do with the mouth sores. As a kid, Dick had dealt with high stress levels and the inside of his mouth was one of the more obvious signs his brain was trying to cope but couldn't. "Are you here for something? If you want treated then let me see."

"…Want Alfred."

"Show me, Dick."

"No quiero." Dick actually whined. "Come on, no quiero!"

"Too bad."

There was some trepidation, but the hand finally lowered.

Bruce snagged the penlight from his utility belt and approached, noticing how the teenager became rigid. He focused on the obviously swelling of the cheeks and quietly instructed. "Open." Dick did as instructed and upon examination of the gums and tongue Bruce easily assessed. "I see."

Dick once again covered his mouth and took two steps back that didn't go unnoticed.

Ever the teacher Bruce tilted his head. "Do you remember what kind of medication would you suggest to someone in your position? Swollen gums, mouth sores…"

"Eww!" A high pitched voice filtered in as Jason Todd approached. "He's got herpes!"

"Not herpes." Dick seethed, though his words were hard to decipher. His face was slightly red as he turned towards Bruce, answering the question. "Steroids."

"Indeed." Bruce confirmed as he turned away, heading to the med bay.

Jason continued to tease his older brother. "Herpes, herpes!"

"I think you are herpes, you shit." Dick spat. "You're friggin' Montezuma's Revenge!"

"Didn't he curse people and give them herpes?"

"You're such a little, uneducated shit! You know that?"

Bruce ignored the pair and found a bottle of Decadron. "Jason, Decadron, do you know what this is?"

Rolling his eyes, the fourteen-year-old glanced towards his mentor. "First off, I heard Dick say he needed steroids, so yeah, they're steroids most likely." He snorted, looking back to Dick who still was attempting to hide his face yet again. "Hate medical shit."

"Language," was all the billionaire said as he returned, handing two pills to Dick. "You know the drill."

"One now, one within 12 hours." Dick took the pill dry, showing his swollen cheeks momentarily.

"Herpes," Jason whispered, a huge smile in play. It was all in good fun.

Dick lunged for him.

As the two began their brotherly fisticuffs, Bruce decided to withhold his interrogation of Dick. Something had happened, he knew that much between his and Barbara's matching stories. Whatever it was, Dick didn't want to share, and while normally Bruce could have pushed the overly stressed young adult to the sidelines, this time was different.

Dick had relapsed. Dick had relapsed and something had happened.

Bruce couldn't stop himself from needing to know.

FIFTY MINUTES LATER:

Jason was aware of the moon and stars above. He was aware of the slick grass underfoot. He was also aware that Dick could run circles around him. "No fuckin' fair!" He panted, slowing his trot. They had both decided to jog towards the cliffs behind Wayne Manor, as to see the ocean with the stars backdropped against it. It was near hell trying to keep pace with the eighteen-year-old.

Dick slowed and returned to the youth. His gums still were swollen, by the way he spoke. "What, done?"

"No! We're almost there, let's just walk."

So they did.

Jason loved spending time with Dick, even if the guy was a push over and a HUGE baby. His new family was more, more then he'd ever thought possible. His older 'brother' more-so than the others. A mix of cool and weird, and all around fun.

"Barefoot it? Since we're walking?"

Jason smiled and slipped his socks and shoes off, carrying them as the two toed the grass naturally.

Nothing seemed off, not till they'd returned home and Dick followed him upstairs. He turned on the gaming console, took a seat, and began to play, ignoring Jays as the fourteen-year-old showered and brushed his teeth. Dick and he used to fight about which was better, tooth brushing in in the shower (Dick) vs. the sink (Jason). This early Saturday morning Dick said nothing. Rinsing with fluoride, Jason spat and returned to his bedroom.

Dick took no notice, rather continued to play. Not a glance, not a word, total focus … for Dick, that was weird.

"You ok?" Jason tried as he snagged his tablet before pulling his covers back and slipping between the sheets. He was tired. "Dick-Head?"

A swish of dark hair as the elder turned around to his disagreeable nickname. "Hate that name." He unplugged the controller and crawled to rest against the pillows beside Jason. He resumed the game, not sparing a glance. "You mind if I hang around for a few?"

"No…" Jason started his tablet and scrolled to find a decent audiobook. Within twenty minutes he was fast asleep, Dick still focused on the television screen before him.


Dick winded up playing till the sun came up, Jason breathing steadily beside him. The eighteen-year-old felt his eyes sagging, so he shut down the console and put the controller on the nightstand to his left. He had to admit, he felt safe. Home was safe. Home was also quiet. He snaked a hand out, moving Jason's arm and removing the currently paused tablet.

Jays had been listening to 'White Fang,' the nerd. Dick giggled at the discovery and searched for some reasonable music.

"Go home, Dick!" Jason harshly whispered at the shuffling.

"Go to sleep."

A grunt from Jason, "you need to shower," but otherwise instructions were followed, and Dick soon took his own advice.

/He was slugging through a swamp of dead bodies. Laughter polluted the air behind him, laughter and high fives. They were getting closer and Dick couldn't move.

Laughter.

High fives.

A whispered, "I'm sorry."

Dick tried to escape, but the sludge was thick and he realized he'd have to eat his way out. He bent down to take a bite…/

A hand brushed against his cheek.

(Wake up fast)

Dick allowed his eyes to open, and as he moved he felt fingers quickly encircled his wrist. He went for a kick as words to his right were uttered.

"Dick. Stop."

The voice was enough to halt his motions. (Safe). He lowered his body to relax, eagerly collapsing into the bed. It was then he realized just how hard he was breathing.

Bruce spoke: "you're safe. Focus."

Dick focused and realized how stupid he seemed. "This is a person," he breathed out, unsure why he'd spoken the words.

"Yes, you're a person, it was a nightmare."

Dick jerked his head to the right, searching for Jays.

"Jason has been downstairs for the past hour…"

Dick returned his gaze to Bruce, searching the familiar face, panic still high.

"Dick, you and I need to talk." There was some kind of accusation behind Bruce's tone, but it was intertwined something thicker – something more important. He lifted a hand and reached across Dick's chest, going to the young man's right shoulder.

Dick displayed momentary confusion until he remembered the self-inflicted cut. He tried to sit up, pushing away his mentors hand and that's when he saw the blood stained sheets. Suddenly speech was a struggle.

"Do you remember hitting Jason?" Bruce interceded.

The inability to talk rose by multiple degrees.

"He woke up and saw the blood. He woke you up and you let him look. He said you needed stitches and you slapped him. You slapped him right across the face, Dick."

"No – im-impossible." It had to be impossible, right? Dick covered his ears and tried to focus. Flickers rushed past. Jason had woken him, but that's all he could recall, and even then … He wasn't sure that had been real or a dream. "Is he ok?"

"He's angry, but quite reasonable." Bruce was shockingly patient, though there was an anger hidden there. Static like. "He said he thought you were 'sleep walking'. He swears you couldn't be high, but I'm wondering if you took something. So here are the options…" He cleared his throat and shook his head. "You explain the cut and why it triggered a violent reaction, you let me do some blood work, and then you tell me everything that's going on."

"…Those aren't options." Dick muttered, his heart pounding. "You're telling me how is."

"If you want to be welcome around Jason, Alfred and Barbara again, then correct – that's how it is." Bruce cleared his throat yet again. He wasn't allowing himself to feel any pity regarding the situation. No, he was going to get to the bottom of it, because if Dick was becoming violent it was his job to protect the others.

"I don't hit kids, Bruce, I don't. I would never ever, ever!"

"I know you don't. I know you wouldn't. But you did, and I'm not going to discuss this. Accept the terms or you need to leave."

Dick pulled in deep breaths, trying to make sense of the situation. He glanced to meet Bruce's eyes and felt the panic rise, so in response he buried his face behind his arms.

"Ok. Fine. I'll escort you out." Bruce Wayne was true to his word.

To be continued...

1. Please inform me of any mistakes.

2. Thanks for reading.