Original Author's Note

This might be my favorite chapter so far. We're past the halfway point now.

Prompts

breaking point | stress positions | reluctant caretaker

Chapter 17: hanging by a threat

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

He closes his eyes. He opens them. It hurts. Everything hurts. Even twitching the muscles in his face. Pain bleeds from his shoulders to his chest to his core. His body screams at him. His body begs him to listen. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

He doesn’t know how long he’s been here. He doesn’t know. He woke up when Owlman grabbed him and chained his arms behind his back and ran another chain from his wrists to the ceiling. And pulled the chain tighter until Dick had to stand on his toes. And left him there. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be here. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out. 

He doesn’t know how much more he can take. 

The door opens. It shouldn’t be a relief. Heavy boots pace across the bare floor. A weighted cape swings through the air. That shouldn’t be a relief either. 

Dick closes his eyes. 

Breathe in. 

Breathe out.

The boots stalk closer. They cross in front of Dick. He waits for them to stop. He waits for Owlman’s voice. The hand on his face. 

It doesn’t come. The boots turn and pace behind him.

Breathe in. 

Breathe out.

A stress position is a stance that places the body so that a large amount of weight is placed on one or two muscles. It is a common torture technique. It is effective—as far as any torture can be—because it creates intense pain with minimum involvement by the torturer. 

Dick knows this. He trained for this. He trained to withstand torture. He knows how to lock his mind away while pain wracks his body. This is nothing new. If this is what breaks him—this, after everything—

A hand brushes the back of his thigh. 

Dick freezes. It’s involuntary. The movement pulls his shoulders, and Dick feels how close they are to dislocating. He pushes up with his toes, trying to take some of the pressure. His muscles scream. 

Owlman’s hand slides over his skin. His naked skin. 

Dick can’t breathe. 

“How much longer before these give out?”

Breathe. Just breathe. He sucks in a shallow gasp. Just breathe.

Fingernails dig in like claws. Dick flinches. Pulls against the chain. Cries. 

“I asked you a question.” The claws disappear. Fingertips trace over burning skin. “How long do you have before your legs give out?”

“I…” Dick pants. It hurts. Everything hurts. “Don’t. Know.”

“Hm.”

The hand falls away. Desperate prayers of thanks pour through Dick’s mind. He can take torture, he can take pain, but that—that— 

Owlman circles him. Dick tracks the heavy tread of his boots. He hears Owlman step in front of him. And stop. 

A calloused hand grips his jaw. 

“What happens when they do?”

Dick pants. Answer. Answer. Just say something. Owlman must be feeling lenient, if he takes I don’t know for an answer. Maybe he’ll take it again. 

“I don’t… know.”

Owlman slaps him across the face.

Dick’s head snaps to the side. The movement pulls at the chain and something in his shoulder tears. 

Dick screams. 

It hurts, it hurts, everything hurts so much that he doesn’t feel the hand on his face until it drags his head up. The first thing that Dick sees is Owlman’s face. 

He isn’t wearing the cowl. Dick wishes he was. 

“Try again,” he says, and for a second Dick hears Bruce—

No. That’s not it. Try again. 

—and he wants to scream no please not here he’s not here it’s not him it’s not real—

“What happens when your legs give out?”

The hand grips tighter. It hurts. It hurts. Everything hurts. 

“I—it—” Dick gasps for breath, desperate not to move, but he can’t breathe with his head pulled back and his chest thrust out, and if he moves his shoulder will tear, but he has to breathe, and he can’t move, and he can’t breathe. “Arms. Dis—locate. Dis—tend—”

Owlman drops his hold. Fingernails rake across Dick’s cheek. 

“Hm. Maybe you do learn.”

Please—please—

“And what will happen,” Owlman says, “when you hang your body weight from a pair of dislocated arms?”

Dick knows the answer. It’s in his head somewhere. The right words, the anatomy, he knows it, but all he can find is screaming pain spread across his skin like oil. He can’t breathe. 

“Tear,” he gasps. “Joint—apart—” Please be enough please be enough please—

“Good,” Owlman says, and Dick could cry from relief. He doesn’t have to talk any more. He pushes up onto his toes. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. 

The pain recedes, just a little, just enough for him to feel the hellish strain in his shoulder. The joint is already damaged—but it can be fixed. It can heal. Eventually Owlman will get tired of this, and he’ll stop. He’ll unhook the chain, he’ll let Dick down, and he’ll fix the damage he caused. 

Dick just has to survive until then. 

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Owlman clicks his tongue. Dick flinches. The motion arcs up his body, into his shoulders. White-hot pain sears his nerves—he can feel his shoulder tearing—

“What a waste,” Owlman says. 

He turns and paces away. Dick doesn’t realize where he’s going until he gets there. Until the cell door starts to swing shut. 

“Wait—”

Owlman stops. 

He turns back in the doorway. Dick closes his eyes, like that will call the word back, like that will protect him from the weight of Owlman’s gaze on his strained, naked body. 

“You have something to say?”

No. Dick squeezes his eyes shut. His thoughts break along jagged lines. Just leave me alone—please—don’t leave me here—please—

Footsteps. Heavy boots. Walking closer. He can’t breathe. 

A hand closes around his jaw. 

“What did you say?

Tears pool in Dick’s eyes. 

“Wait,” he whispers. “Please.”

Fingers trail across his jaw. It doesn’t hurt. Everything hurts—his shoulders, his wrists, his back, his feet. But the hand on his face doesn’t hurt. 

He can’t do this anymore. 

“Please,” he whispers. “Don’t—don’t leave.”

The hand falls from his face. 

Owlman smiles. Dick hears it in his voice. He doesn’t have to open his eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” he says. “Lois will be here soon. To keep you company.” 

Dick can’t breathe. His skin is on fire, burning up, his skin naked and open to the air, all of him, and he know what Lois, what Superwoman wants and if she comes here where he’s chained up and burning and puts her hands on him—

He’s speaking. His voice is weak and crushed. 

“No, no, please—please—”

He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe, he can’t move, and Owlman is gone—and Superwoman is coming—and—

The chain goes slack. 

Dick drops like a corpse. An arm wraps around his chest before he falls and slowly lowers him to the floor. Dick flinches away from it, stiff and aching—no, no, please—

“Easy,” Owlman says. The chain slips off of Dick’s wrists. Calloused hands massage Dick’s shoulders, gently drawing them forward into their natural position.

“There,” Owlman says. “That’s better.” He cradles Dick to his chest.

If he hears Dick crying—if he sees the tears dripping off his chin—he lets it pass.