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The kid is deliberately getting himself hurt. Slade wishes he was being paranoid, but this is the third injury in as many days he’s had to patch. He frowns and ties off the last stitch in Robin’s arm. The kid lets out a little hiss of breath between his teeth, but otherwise stays still.
He’s tense, always is when Slade is this close, and Slade can read pain in the tightness of his eyes. A nicer man would have given the kid something before going into cleaning and stitching the wound. Slade is not that man. He sets the needle down and grabs a roll of bandages.
The wound was caused by a knife to the arm that Dick hadn’t dodged until the last possible second. He’d been too late to avoid the gash from his shoulder to his elbow. Slade’s grip momentarily tightens in frustration on Dick’s arm. Dick looks up at him, alarm sparking in his eyes. His heartbeat speeds up. Slade exhales, loosens his grip, and continues bandaging. Dick doesn’t stop staring.
“I completed the mission objective,” he says after another long few minutes of silence. As if Slade doesn’t know that already.
He hums in answer, securing the bandage in place. He stands up to his full height. Dick shrinks a little under his gaze, but doesn’t move from where he’s sitting on the infirmary table. He knows he’s in trouble and he knows it has nothing to do with the mission objective so Slade waits him out, only raising an eyebrow.
Dick clearly wants to bolt, but he stays seated. Another three minutes and he starts fidgeting.
“I didn’t see the guard.”
Slade frowns. Right subject. Wrong answer.
“You did,” Slade refutes.
Dick looks up at him, opens his mouth to argue, then seems to think better of it and looks down. Slade breathes in slowly, tries to keep his temper in check. It’s so easy to get frustrated with Dick, but he’ll never get to the bottom of this little setback if he gets into an argument with him.
“I’m going to give you the opportunity to explain yourself to me truthfully. I suggest you don’t waste it.”
His tone promises repercussions for disobedience, but Dick still snaps his head up to glare at him. Slade resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. The only saving grace is the fear right under the anger. He can hear it in the way Robin’s heart beats even faster, can see it in the way his fingers twitch. Whatever reason Dick has for being sloppy, it has him afraid of Slade’s reaction.
“I’m waiting.”
Dick swallows, casts a split second glance to the remote around Slade’s wrist.
“Can-If I tell you, can you take it out on me and not them?” he asks.
Interesting. He asks like he has a choice of whether or not to share. But Slade would like answers sooner than later. He nods and then waves his hand in a ‘go on’ gesture. Dick takes a deep breath.
“I just thought...if I die, you don’t have a reason to kill them.”
He hunches in on himself as soon as the words leave his mouth. Slade stares. He’d suspected the deliberate injuries were a way for Dick to get himself hurt badly enough so Slade would take him out of the field, not this.
"That is such a horrendously stupid idea, I can’t-”
“No, it’s not because I’m right! If I’m dead you don’t-”
“Oh that's cute, Robin. Really, it is. Do you even really want to die?”
He spits the question like venom. It’s one thing for the kid to want to escape, but this is something else entirely.
“Anything is better than being here with you,” he says, hands balled into fists, face twisted in a sneer.
Slade reaches out and grips his face in his hand. His fingers dig into skin hard enough to draw a startled noise out of him.
“Don’t forget who you’re talking to, brat.”
Dick tries to pull away, but Slade just holds on tighter.
“Now, I’m going to ask you one more time and I want an answer without the attitude. Do you want to die?”
With the way he’s holding onto the kid and invading his space it probably feels like a threat more than a question. It does produce the desired effect, however. Dick’s bottom lip trembles, his eyes go glassy, he shakes his head with the limited range of motion Slade’s grip gives. He lets go and back out of Dick’s space. Slade rubs a hand over his face and observes the way Dick’s hands shake.
“No. I don’t want to die,” Dick mumbles. “I want to go home,” he whispers the last part, but Slade still hears it. He frowns.
“Keep up with this behavior and I will kill them whether you’re dead or not.”
He leaves the room as the kid’s face crumples.