[One of the swings had stopped. He was waiting for it, knew that it was supposed to be coming, trying to brace himself again and again and again--
He could hear the sound of impact, but didn't feel anything new. Maybe he'd gone so numb he didn't feel it anymore. Maybe Dent was just waiting, winding up, so that the next one would hurt worse. The anticipation is almost as painful as the rest of it.
And something touches him again, and he sucks in a breath on reflex, curling away, waiting for more pain to course through his nerves, but-- but it's not forceful, it's not cruel. It's-- it's gentle and mindful and.
Dick tries to crack his eyes open, at least one was swollen and throbbing and everything was blurry from tears trapped in his eyes but. But it was Damian. Batman, who was awake, and he was OK and he was here and oh god thank god he was here.
He lets out a breath, almost a relief but it felt sore and painful and wet. He knows ribs are broken, and his inside felt sharp and torn, and he's not even sure if it's from legitimate internal injury or not. And one arm he can't move and the other it hurts to move, and he's almost certain he can feel some bone sticking out somewhere and the pain is unbearable but he's hardly even sure what part.
But on some parts there's pressure now, not the kind from impact but a constant force. The kind that's trying to hold in everything that wants to fall apart, and that kind of makes it feel better. He's not entirely sure what 'better' is at this point. His memory must be awfully short, he tells himself.
Damian's talking and the roar of blood and nothingness in his ears is almost deafening. But he wants Damian to keep talking, he wants to be able to listen he wants to be able to say something but his tongue feels heavy and everything tastes metallic. His chest feels worse than congested and his throat and most of his face doesn't even feel like it exists.]
I-I-- [A cough, a hiccup, some kind of involuntary reaction and everything feels more red. He still reaches out, desperately, clumsily, with the arm that he can at least move with some pain to grip the material of Batman's coat as tight as he can.
'Hold on.' Had to stay awake. Had to-- even if he couldn't form a sentence right now, had to say something.]
B-Batman... you're... [You're OK thank god you're OK] b-b--... D-Dent-- [What happened to Two Face please stop him please stop him.]
no subject
He could hear the sound of impact, but didn't feel anything new. Maybe he'd gone so numb he didn't feel it anymore. Maybe Dent was just waiting, winding up, so that the next one would hurt worse. The anticipation is almost as painful as the rest of it.
And something touches him again, and he sucks in a breath on reflex, curling away, waiting for more pain to course through his nerves, but-- but it's not forceful, it's not cruel. It's-- it's gentle and mindful and.
Dick tries to crack his eyes open, at least one was swollen and throbbing and everything was blurry from tears trapped in his eyes but. But it was Damian. Batman, who was awake, and he was OK and he was here and oh god thank god he was here.
He lets out a breath, almost a relief but it felt sore and painful and wet. He knows ribs are broken, and his inside felt sharp and torn, and he's not even sure if it's from legitimate internal injury or not. And one arm he can't move and the other it hurts to move, and he's almost certain he can feel some bone sticking out somewhere and the pain is unbearable but he's hardly even sure what part.
But on some parts there's pressure now, not the kind from impact but a constant force. The kind that's trying to hold in everything that wants to fall apart, and that kind of makes it feel better. He's not entirely sure what 'better' is at this point. His memory must be awfully short, he tells himself.
Damian's talking and the roar of blood and nothingness in his ears is almost deafening. But he wants Damian to keep talking, he wants to be able to listen he wants to be able to say something but his tongue feels heavy and everything tastes metallic. His chest feels worse than congested and his throat and most of his face doesn't even feel like it exists.]
I-I-- [A cough, a hiccup, some kind of involuntary reaction and everything feels more red. He still reaches out, desperately, clumsily, with the arm that he can at least move with some pain to grip the material of Batman's coat as tight as he can.
'Hold on.' Had to stay awake. Had to-- even if he couldn't form a sentence right now, had to say something.]
B-Batman... you're... [You're OK thank god you're OK] b-b--... D-Dent-- [What happened to Two Face please stop him please stop him.]