alyssa579437744 here is thine request

EDIT: TW INTENSE INJURIES//BLOOD

When they got back, Dick was immediately treated for his injuries. Normally he'd make playful comments about everyone fussing but he was much too shell shocked. He couldn't believe it. He was trying desperately to believe that he'd escaped. That his family members were right there and not dead in a ditch somewhere no one would ever think to look. Yet he found himself waiting for someone to jump out and snatch this reality out from underneath him. He couldn't be this lucky. Everyone's conversations were nothing more than mumbles. He couldn't focus. Whether that was from the shock or his ill-treatment was another matter. All he knew was that he didn't believe this. It was too perfect. He glanced around the room. His siblings were talking to one another, discussing things he couldn't quite make out. He was so sure that they'd died. He'd imagined how they'd been killed when Slade told them they'd met their ends. All of those scenarios were gory and drawn out as much as he hoped that it had been quick and painless. The guilt had weighed him down for so long that he still felt it even now when they were alive. Or were they alive? This could all be a dream. He studied them. If this was a dream, there'd be imperfections. Small things that wouldn't make sense. However, it was all sensical. Everyone looked how they were supposed to look. His eyes trailed down to his skin. He knew that there was a trick to see if you were dreaming. Pulling your skin in a dream would lead to it stretching and stretching. It was a good indicator to see if he truly was dreaming. So he pinched the back of his hand and pulled. A hand slapped him and he jumped, his eyes darting to meet those of whoever hit him. "You'll hurt yourself, sir. Now, let's get that's uniform off for your check yes?" Alfred told him. Dick stared at the butler blankly for a few moments before numbly taking his shirt off. 

The room went silent. There was all manner of injuries littering his skin. He'd moved so well that they hadn't expected there to be that many. They expected a bruise or two, cuts here and there. "Oh, Dick," Tim whispered. The hero cocked his head at them then looked down. He'd almost forgotten what bad shape he was in. He could feel them, yes, but he supposed he got used to the pain. Maybe he was so numb that it'd slipped his mind to be in pain. There were cuts, shallow and deep, some were infected and had red irritated skin surrounding a puss-filled scab. Dark blue bruises surrounded part of his side whilst a mix of yellow ones weaved from his top left rib to the bottom ribs. On his back were more bruises from sleeping on the stone floor and small cuts that looked to be from a small dagger. His long sleeves had hidden the scratches and the grazes, some still having dirt and grime around them. "That psychopath," Jason muttered. Torture sessions had resulted in worse injuries but the fact Dick was probably still made to train despite his injuries added salt to the wounds. He would've been pushed to his limits every day no matter what. The thought of it all made him feel sick. He should've filled Slade full of bullets instead of just leaving him there to leave. Damian had to look away. It wasn't right. None of this was right. But here they were. He hated it all. "It was training," Dick mumbled.

"It was torture," Damian corrected. 

"I believe it will be best if Master Dick and I are left alone. I'll call you in when necessary."

"But Pennyworth-" 

"Listen to Alfred," Bruce interrupted. "He's never steered us wrong before, has he?" he added as he herded the group out the room despite their grumbles. He trusted his butler to do the right thing. He had to.

Despite some reluctance, Bruce managed to send everyone home. They had places to protect and they would only feel worse about themselves by sticking around with no way to help. Although they put up fights, they had to agree with his logic. Not every hero could be there when there was no need for them to be. Dick would understand that and even though he loved all of them dearly, right now probably wasn't the best time for all of them to be crowded around his bed. Alfred let them in to say their goodbyes though they suspected that it was all just background noise to their brother. His eyes had a glazed look to them like he was empty. His mind was somewhere else and they knew where that place was. Alfred tried to get him to engage in some conversation since he'd always known that to be comforting to the young man but it seemed like he wasn't one for talking. Throughout the two hours it took to check over, inspect and treat every consequence of Slade's ill-treatment Dick had remained eerily quiet. He only ever spoke when asked a question and the answers were short. After fixing him up and failing to get him to engage in a conversation that lasted longer than one question and one answer, Alfred called in Bruce and Damian. "Master Dick will need plenty of bed rest and I suggest he does it in somewhere more comforting. One of you should stay with him during the night," he told them.

"I'll stay," Damian stated quickly. The older pair glanced at one another then back at him. 

"No offence Damian but there is a need for emotional support here. If he has a nightmare I don't think simply saying it was just a dream will help," Bruce explained. His son rolled his eyes dismissively.

"You discredit the efforts made by Grayson when he was my guardian. Our bond goes beyond your feeble interpretation of it," he replied defensively. "Grayson? Would you rather father or I looking after you tonight?" he asked to prove a point. Dick's eyes flickered between the pair before falling on his brother. 

"Damian since, y'know, we were taken together," he answered. His voice was nothing more than a whisper, a fraction of what it usually was. It sounded like a poor half-hearted attempt at an impersonation. Damian looked back to his father with a triumphant and almost smug look. One that made a pit in the older's stomach but he couldn't quite say why. It was a look that insured some sort of foreseeable problem in the future but the future was far too foggy to get an exact image. He sighed to himself. "Alright. If Damian is looking after you then I'll be able to go on patrol."

"Keep your phone on then sir in case there's an emergency," Alfred ordered. 

"Of course. Now let's get you to bed."

Once Dick was settled into bed, the older pair left Damian to look after him. They trusted that if anything really bad happened they'd be notified of it. Damian took a seat on the chair nearest to the bed whilst he waited for them to leave not intending on staying there. He simply needed to keep up appearances for a few minutes. Sure he wanted to flaunt his close relationship with his brother and flex that they were obviously closer than all the others were but that would risk showing he wasn't a completely stone-cold badass with no regard for others. Besides, Dick had already proven he was closer than even Bruce so that should be enough to assert his dominance on the others. Speaking of, Dick was laying in bed with a slightly distant look. One that worried the younger greatly. He'd never heard him this quiet before. Damian strode over to him and sat beside him as soon as the door was closed. He guessed just sitting there with Dick for a moment would be enough comfort for now. "I thought I lost you again," the acrobat whispered, not looking at him. His eyes were set firmly on the ceiling, following the swirls in the paint. 

"I wouldn't put you through that," Damian replied quietly. "I can assure you I didn't die again if that helps?" That got an airy laugh. He grew smug at achieving that. 

"I suppose it does help. Just can't get over seeing you so limp. Stupid of me really to not notice you were just sleeping," he continued. His expression went blank for a moment before he turned to face his younger brother. "Looked so real."

"Of course it would look real. It's like those ghost shows. They play some crackling nonsense that you wouldn't think said anything at first. Then you're told what it says and suddenly you hear that. You were given the prompt needed for your brain to make a conclusion," Damian told him. "My point being, despite the information you being fed was wrong, it was your reality for much longer than I would've preferred it. You are valid for feeling the way you do."

"That's a very roundabout way of saying I'm valid Dami," Dick chuckled. He winced afterwards though, having aggravated about every wound on his battered body. Damian shot him a concerned look. "I hope you know we never stopped looking."

"In all honesty, I think I gave up that hope. I'd been told you were dead." Things went quiet for a moment as the acrobat sighed and rubbed at his eyes before Damian could see the tears caused by that memory. 

"It'll be okay Grayson. This won't happen again," he told him. 

"Oh? You gonna protect me?" he asked, obviously making light of the situation. He didn't expect the kid to be serious. Then again, he probably should've. Damian nodded, making him smile. "Well at least I know I can sleep easy then."

"Indeed if your awful sleeping patterns permit. Speaking of, it'll be a restless night tonight if history serves me right so you should try to sleep now whilst the night is still young," he insisted. 

"And you'll stay with me?"

"Of course I will. Is there anything I can do to help you sleep?"

"Could you read to me? So I know you're here?" Damian nodded and opened the bedside drawer which held some of the books Dick had been reading before he was taken. Nothing had been touched in his absence aside to be cleaned. The room was exactly as it was left. He chose one of the books, Dracula by Bram Stoker, and flicked through to where the bookmark was. "Thanks for this Dami."

"No problem. You'd do the same if it were me."

"I love you little D."

"The feeling is mutual."