The Collector

Chapter Fifteen

Bruce's fingers traced gently across his skin, feeling the slightly raised scar tissue as he checked over Dick's spine. He hadn't noticed the scars when he had first brought Dick to the cave that night. The bruising to his back had covered them, but now that the colouration was beginning to fade, the scars were once again beginning to show.

'Your back seems to have healed well.' Bruce said. Dick sat silently, cross legged on the bed. It had been several days since he had agreed to stay at Wayne Manor. In that time, he had become quieter and more withdrawn, which Bruce suspected was his way of protecting them from his darkening mood. The pills Leslie had prescribed, were to help curb the cravings. But Bruce surmised they were likely a poor substitute for the substances Dick had been putting into his body for nearly a decade. He passed Dick his shirt and went to leave.

'You can ask, it's okay.' Dick said, not turning around.

'Ask?' Bruce stopped in the doorway.

'The scars,' Dick said. 'I can tell you have questions.' Bruce closed the door and came back to sit on the bed beside him.

'How much do you want to tell me?' He asked him gently.

'How much do you really want to know?' Dick scoffed. 'I was running some gear for a dealer. Before Slade I used to work with him a lot. He sent me to do a drop off, but he didn't tell me it was Joker territory.' The memories of being strung up by his wrists with the mad clown's laughter bouncing off the metal walls, made him clench his jaw. 'You know until that day I'd never really touch the worst stuff. I ran the drugs for money, but I didn't use them.'

'What happened?' Bruce prompted.

'It was Harley's idea to inject me with the gear I was carrying.' Dick rubbed his arms self-consciously. 'I don't remember much after that, but I woke up in a pool on my own blood with his name carved into my back.'

'How old were you?'

'Fourteen.' He sighed deeply. 'After that it all kind of went to shit. Which was saying something considering the shit show my life was before it happened.' Dick wrapped the weighted blanket around his shoulders and drew his legs up to his chest. 'After that I started trying any drug, I could get my hands on and did some stupid things to get them. I got arrested, which is always an enjoyable experience in Gotham.'

Bruce stopped him. 'You got arrested in Gotham? When?'

'About four years ago. They dropped the charges, what does it matter?' Dick could sense that Bruce was becoming mad, but somehow, he knew it wasn't at him.

'I had an agreement with Gotham PD, that I would be notified if you ever showed up. They literally had you in custody, and they never told me.' He said in disbelief. He tried to swallow down the anger. Dick's whole ordeal with Slade could have been avoided if someone under Gordons's command had done their damn job properly.

'To be honest, I'm glad you didn't see me back then,' Dick muttered. 'I was...not a functioning human being.'

'What did you get arrested for? Possession?' Bruce asked. After Dick's complete honesty, he was surprised when this question made him hesitate.

'You don't want to know.' Dick shook his head. 'Or I'd rather you not know. Remaining scraps of dignity and all that.' He pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes and groaned.

'How bad is it today?' Bruce asked.

'It's not great,' Dick laughed humourlessly. 'You know when you're hungry and all you can think about is food. And you start imagining all the food you could eat which only makes the hunger worse until its physically painful. Well, it's kind of like that.'