Traumatised

Anger Management

'Come on Dick, up and at 'em,'

The covers were pulled off his body and Dick curled himself into a tighter ball.

'5 more minutes.' He whined, burying his face in the pillow.

'No, now.' Said Slade, switching on the light. 'Get dressed, were training today.'

'Training?' Dick asked sleepily. 'You mean sparring?'

Joey suddenly appeared in the doorway.

You're going down! – He signed animatedly, before winking and leaving the room.

Dick uncurled himself and stretched, his joints popping audibly.

'That sounded like it hurt.' Slade commented, waiting in the doorway until he was sure the boy was going to get out of bed.

'Not really.' Said Dick, finally standing up. 'Wally calls them my dancer's joints.' He had said the words before he had really thought about it.

'Do you dance?' Slade asked eyebrow raised.

'No.' said Dick. 'Gymnastics was always more my thing.'

'Shame.' Slade's words surprised him. 'You probably would be good at it.'

'Oh, I am.' Said Dick, making the bed. When he turned around Slade once again had his eyebrow raised in amusement. 'I said I didn't dance, not that I couldn't.' He said with a grin.

'You are full of surprises.' Slade commented as Dick walked past him. They both made their way out of the room; Joey was practically bouncing on his heels.

'Why are you so excited?' asked Dick.

Are you kidding me? – Joey signed. You're The Robin! I'm looking forward to seeing what you've got!

For some reason, Joey's words hit a nerve. Dick's smile dropped, and he headed to the bathroom. Slade hit his son upside the head.

'For someone raised by an assassin, you have no sense of tact or timing.'

Once in the bathroom, Dick quietly locked and door and then sat on the toilet seat. He sat there quietly for a few moments. He had always known that dividing his personality in two wasn't healthy. Even from the age of ten, when he first realised Dick Grayson and Robin were practically two different people. But the separation had helped him cope...especially recently. Joey wanted to see what Robin could do in a sparring match, but there was just one problem...he wasn't Robin. Not right now.

He wasn't even sure he could change to think like Robin right now, his mind was still so broken. The moment he had turned his back on Slade in the car, the night he had walked in front of the train, Robin had taken a back seat.

'Dick, are you alright?' The knock on the door told him he had been sat thinking for longer than he had intended. 'Dick?' The voice sounded even more concerned.

'Yeh, I'll be right there.' He called, hoping Slade would go away. The knocking stopped, but there were no retreating footsteps, so he knew the older man was still outside the door, waiting.

Forcing himself to stand back up, he got himself ready. Pulling on some sweats and a baggy hoodie, that Joey had lent him. When he opened the door, Slade was frowning.

'Are you ok?' he asked. Dick nodded but Slade didn't look convinced. He opened both of his palms as though he wanted Dick to give him something.

'What?' asked Dick, confused.

'Arms.' Slade said sternly.

Dick rolled his eyes and sighed as he rolled up his long sleeves and placed both his arms in Slade's hands. The man gently but firmly, turned both of the arms over, looking for new cuts.