Don't Say His Name. . .

~16~

Dicks POV

"Y'knmf? Thesm comkies arnt tbat bmad!" I mumbled all 3 of my cookies shoved into my mouth. Which roughly translated into 'Y'know? These cookies aren't that bad!'

Which they weren't, not bad at all. I should've kept that one I gave to gills though, stupid 'trying to be a decent human being'-ness.

I somehow swallowed all the food in my mouth and decided, 'Hey! I'm gonna lay on the bed today!'

So I flopped down on that baby and stared at a new spot on the ceiling! To pass my abundance of time I counted the cracks on the ceiling . . . Again.

"Un, duex, trios, quarte, cinq, sees, sep–" A rough cough interrupted me, shaking my insides like a maraca.

Eventually it stopped, leaving my thought sore and mouth feeling weird. But it stopped so that was good.

"Sept, huit, neuf, di- Di–" I started to cough harder than before, having to sit up and hold my stomach as my lungs basically tried to escape me.

I stood up, using the wall for support as I bent over to cough more. Geez that hurt! The attack on my throat stopped again and I shakily got my breathe back.

I shook my head, sniffling a little, the walked over to other door in the room. Turning the handle and revealing a bland bathroom on the other side.

"And here I was, hoping it was a gateway to Narnia . . ." I mumbled hoarsely, stepping inside.

There wasn't even a mirror inside! Or a bathtub with the shower! What kind of 1 Star - No. Half Star! - Bathroom is this!

But that was besides the point, the lack of mirror prevented me from seeing how I looked. I didn't feel hot or sick really. But the way my stomach was starting to cramp was nauseating.

"What the flap-jack, snick-snack, tic-tac, paddy-wack, is wrong with me?" I whispered, running a hand down my face.

My stomach gurgled in a way I did not like. I was not about to like what was about to happen.

To spare myself the embarrassment of having the author write what happened, I'll explain in the quickest way possible.

For the next, uhh, give or take 10-20 minutes or so, my stomach rejected everything.

Not my finest moment.

But when that was over, man, did my everything hurt. My head was heavy, my throat was sore, my dumb stomach was just a pain. Pretty much everything important hurt. Besides my face, luckily that masterpiece was still intact.

My throat started to burn again, and more ragged coughs ran threw me. But this time they wouldn't stop.

It was nonstop, nonstop. And dang, it's getting a little hard to breathe.

That didn't make the coughing stop, though.

Normal POV

"Sir, it appears you have a call from," Alfred paused to look back at the bat-computer, "Mr. Allen."

Bruce turned around from where he was working, "Barry?"

Alfred nodded, "It appears he's been calling you frequently. 2 missed call in 3 minutes, and he's trying to reach you still."

Bruce threw his cowl back over his face, a precaution he'd taken after Barry called him once with a young Wally on his lap.