Blood Ties

Chapter 21 -Revelations Part 1-

Dick hadn't really slept, he was too scared he'd wake up somewhere else with more blood on his hands. The result was expected, the bags under his eyes felt as heavy as his eyelids, and his brain was trying desperately to either turn off or sputter back on. It's not like he had coffee or anything stimulating, it was just him and his fear keeping him awake.

"You look deplorable Grayson, have you tried sleeping at all?"

Ah, so it was real, or maybe he actually was sleeping and this was a dream. A very weird dream. Dick's eyes narrowed on the masked stranger, didn't dreams only include people (faces?) you've seen before? Or would that be negated by the fact the stranger was wearing a mask?

"Can't," Dick responded, still staring at the other (assumed) vigilante. "Too risky."

"Does sleeping increase the chance of evil Dick Grayson?" The stranger asked, a reasonable if not surprising question.

Dick had enough of staring into white lenses, he let out a sigh through his nose and looked away. "No. I just don't... want..." his voice tapered off and he felt ashamed. He couldn't even speak about what was wrong with him in fear of it. Why was he so messed up?! Why couldn't he deal with things like a normal human being?! Just talk to the stranger about your gosh darn fears about everyone else's safety because you might become a slave in your own murderous body and then have to live with the blood on your hands afterward and never be close to anyone ever again.

Dick's eyes were stinging as he stared furiously into the wall that was steadily getting blurrier while his hands clenched the ball of Batman's cape too tightly.

"If you're really insisting on isolating yourself you should at least conserve your liquids," Nightwing mentioned. The tone was supposed to be patronizing, but Dick heard soft sighs where there could have been sharp whips.

Dick sniffed and swiped at his face to get rid of the stinging. "Right."

Nightwing was so weird, but he understood the words were supposed to be helpful. The words weren't helpful at all, in fact, if Dick wasn't paying enough attention he probably would have gotten offended at the notion he shouldn't cry. It was all just words though, his tone is what spoke to Dick and it said 'You're upset, crying is reasonable, but it won't fix anything.'

He looked up at Nightwing, the frown on his face feeling heavy and unchangeable. It was not lost on Dick that Slade was the reason he could read the vigilante like that, and any thought with Slade made Dick feel the black hole in his chest suck a little bit more of his soul away.

"Anyway," Nightwing jabbed a thumb at his accomplice, a shorter, younger man wearing a red and black suit with some sort of black and gold emblem on his chest. "Drake has been finally cleared to meet you against my better judgment, we also have some questions."

Dick looked over this 'Drake' guy, instead of just staring at his face to see if he could ID him he took in everything. He had subconsciously done so earlier, but he was being too angsty to pay too much attention. (Stupid feelings)

'Drake' had shaggy black hair, masked eyes similar to Nightwing's, his belt was yellow and had shoulder belts strung across his torso with his emblem where they intercepted. The process of elimination said this guy is that one weirdo who liked him enough to want his picture in his wallet for some convoluted reason. Red Robin, one of Batman's weird family of vigilantes, the same vigilante who also figured out his ID.

The ebony-haired boy's face soured and took a small step back from the man. The guy had done himself no favors, everything about him and what he had done in relation to Dick was very suspicious despite Nightwing's comforts. So Dick was content to label him 'Sketchy Weirdo Maybe-Ally' and was totally going to wipe the floor with him if anything weird or uncomfortable happened.