Dick wakes up but something is not quite right.

. . .

Dick groaned as he managed to pry open his eyes. Everything was aching. As gently as he could, the ex-Boy Wonder tried to roll from his side onto his back so he could sit up only to find his body was seemingly frozen in place. The acrobat couldn't even tilt his head in order to get a look at his alarm clock. In truth, all Dick wanted to do was close his eyes again and sleep but the bright light filtering down through the gaps in his curtains begged at him to rise. He tried to turn over again to the same result. Suddenly, realising his utter helplessness, the young man's heart began to race wildly. He couldn't move. He was stuck. Oh God! A wave of panic overwhelmed him. His breathing came in erratic gasps. Too short. Too shallow. Not enough oxygen to his brain. He was stuck. He was stuck, helpless and very, very dizzy. Stuck. The word looped over and over in his frightened mind. Stuck.

Salvation came long seconds later in a loud, persistent pounding that announced a visitor.

"Grayson!" came the annoyed demand of the youngest Robin. "Are you decent? We are overdue for our sparing lesson." A brief moment of silence. Dick couldn't even find the strength to call out to his brother. All he could do was let out another soft, breathy groan as he tried to get his heartrate under control.

"Not that I need any lessons," the boy added. More silence. More knocking. Harder this time. More insistent. "Grayson! I demand you answer me." Fed up with waiting, Damian forcibly swung open his older brother's bedroom door. Catching sight of the apparently sleeping form of the older boy's back, he sighed loudly.

"It is no time for sleeping in, Grayson," he tutted. "Father will be most perplexed if you do not train me as he has asked you to." The statement was met with more annoying silence. "Do not ignore me." The boy marched to the other side of the bed so he could see Dick's face.

The ex-assassin took a few involuntary steps backwards when he met his brother's eyes. The alarming blue orbs were wide and desperate, radiating a crippling fear and panic. Dick's lips twitched, trying to form words he couldn't convey. He was so white that Damian thought he could blend right in with the starched sheets.

"Grayson..." the boy's voice was uncertain. "Grayson, are you ill?" Nervous, the Robin surveyed the man before him. Shortness of breath, useless heaving chest, blown irises, inability to talk, apparent paralysis of neck and limbs.

"I will fetch Pennyworth," he informed coolly, turning to leave. A low keening pierced his ears and Damian, realising the source of the noise as his bedridden brother, whipped back around.

"It will be okay, Grayson," the young boy assured, stroking his brother's dark hair on a whim. "Pennyworth will fix this." Damian raced out of the room to locate the butler.

. . .

497 words.

Okay, so a lot of these are very short. Is this okay or would you guys prefer bigger pieces? What is your optimal word length? I mean, I'm mostly just posting these in the hope of getting critiqued so I can write better illness and injury segments but I want you to actually read them so if you want me to add more detail and lengthen things a bit I'm more than happy to do that. So just tell me what you think. Also, if you ever come up with better titles or prompts, I'd love to hear them. 

Until we meet again!

~SpanishFox