The Collector

Chapter Fourteen

'I think he needs a hospital,' Bruce said, placing his arms onto the table.

'No, believe it or not, this is normal. He'll be fine,' said Jason.

'I don't know. It's been three days and he just seems to be getting worse.' Tim said, looking down into his coffee mug. 'Maybe Bruce is right?'

'He just needs to ride this bit out. Once he turns this corner, he will start feeling better.' Jason insisted. When the others turned to Doctor Thompkins, she nodded.

'He's right. Even if we took him to a hospital, they would do exactly what we are doing now.'

'But at least here he is safe from Slade.' Jason said.

'Forgive me, Doctor but isn't there anything else you could give him to ease his discomfort?' Alfred asked. But Leslie shook her head.

'I'm giving him all I can. It would be a lot easier for him if he wasn't also injured. He's dealing with the pain of his spinal injuries, as well as recovering from the withdrawal.' She closed her bag and handed Bruce a pill box. 'These should take the edge off for the next few days. I'll be back at the end of the week to check on him.'

'Thanks Leslie.'

'I shall walk you out, Doctor Thompkins.' Alfred followed the doctor to the front door. When they were gone, Jason also pushed himself away from the table.

'I'm going to go check on Dick,' he said, picking up a few of the muffin from the centre of the table. 'See if I can get him to eat something.'

'I'll come with you,' Tim said. Out of everyone in the house, he had spent the least amount of time with the newcomer. It wasn't anything personal to the young man. Tim just didn't have the experience that Jason did, and he often felt like he was simply in the way. But he also wanted to make sure that his brother was okay, so as he had on a few other occasions, he followed him up to the room Dick was recovering in.

When they opened the door, they both immediately noticed that the bed was empty. Over the previous few days, Dick's withdrawal symptoms had left him weak and disorientated, to the extend he hadn't been able to get out of bed. When Bruce had left him that morning, he had said the young man was still in no state to leave the room. Which left both brothers confused to see the pillows vacant. But it didn't take more than a few seconds to locate him. Dick had removed himself from the bed and was sat in the corner of the room on the floor, back pressed against the wall and knees up to his chest.

'Dick? You, okay?' Jason asked, approaching slowly. Dick's head raised from his knees to show bloodshot eyes and cheeks damp with tears.

'I can't do it,' Dick sobbed. Instantly both boys were at his side.

'Yes, you can,' Jason said. 'You're doing so well.'

'No,' Dick shook his head. 'It's never been this hard before. I don't understand why I'm so weak.'

'You're not weak, Dick.' Tim said gently. 'It's Sleeper. Even in small amounts its toxic and you had a lot of it in your system.'

'I don't even remember taking it,' Dick choked, fresh tears falling from his blue eyes. He moaned in pain and lowered his head back to his knees, mumbling that he felt like he was dying. Jason slowly sat down next to him, looking up at Tim with concern filled eyes.

'Try to calm down, you're only going to make yourself more tired.' Jason coached. He smiled slightly, when he saw Dick attempt to take a deep breath and then another. As his breathing became more even, the eldest of them began mumbling under his breath. Jason and Tim both listened quietly, but it was clear he wasn't talking to them. He was whispering words that sounded rehearsed, like a mantra.