A/N: I had to change Robin's (Dick's) past a bit so it would fit in better with my story and make him look delusional. After all, this is only fiction. Please review and let me know if it's good the way it is or if there are ways I can improve it.
I Miss My Mind the Most, Chapter 2
What is going on? I think angrily as I begin my fight with the restraints again.
"Good morning, Dick."
I stop struggling at the sound of a familiar voice. Looking up, I find Dr. Leslie Thompkins entering the room. It's been a while since I saw her last, but she looks just the same, smart and sophisticated in a navy blue skirt suit. I can't help but smile.
"Leslie, thank God you're here," I say in relief. "Get me out of here, okay?"
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Dick," she says in regret, holding the door open for Benjamin who is bringing in a chair. He sets it beside my bed and leaves. Leslie closes the door behind him.
"So, how have you been?" she asks as she slowly makes her way over to my bed.
I can hardly believe she just asked me that. "Oh, I'm just peachy," I reply sarcastically. "I wake to find myself in a nut house, strapped to a bed. I don't know how I got here. I don't know why I'm here. According to Nurse Perky, it's because of a delusional disorder. And how are you?"
She sits down, crossing her legs at the ankles, and opens the notebook she brought in with her, setting it on her lap. "So, it seems you've had a rather exciting morning then," she says and puts on a pair of glasses.
"What is going on, Leslie?" I ask desperately.
Her blue eyes are kind as she studies me for a moment. Rather than answering my question, she asks one of her own. "What's the last thing you remember, Dick?" she asks in a soft voice.
I have to think about that one as I look around. "I was at the Tower with the other Titans," I finally reply once I'm sure the room is secure. "We had just returned from a fight. It was pretty late, so I decided to go to bed. I said good night to the others and started to make my way to my room. The next thing I know, I'm waking up here. That's all I can remember. What does that have to do with what's going on?"
She writes something down in her notebook. The quiet, professional calm she exudes is almost frightening. "Tell me about your past, Dick," she says solemnly.
I was becoming irritated as she kept dodging my questions. "You already know about my past," I answer in exasperation.
She shrugs her shoulders slightly. "Humor me," she says casually.
"What's the point?" I ask angrily.
Various emotions play across her face, but they are too many for me to decipher clearly. "The point is," she finally says, sounding weary as she removes her glasses, "that the life you know has been nothing more than a delusion." I stare at her blankly. "A lie, Dick," she continues softly.
"I know what a delusion is," I snap. "I just don't believe you. I mean, how could my whole life be a lie?"
"Not your whole life," she corrects me. "Only since your parents were killed—"
"They were murdered," I interrupt her bitterly.
"—and you moved in with Bruce," she continues. "You were unable to cope with this loss at such a young age, especially since the authorities were unable to tell whether it was an accident or intentional."
"They were murdered," I repeat stubbornly as I glare at Leslie.
She sighs. "There are different ways to deal with loss. You chose to mourn at first, but this was not enough, was it?"
I shake my head slightly. "I knew who did it. I'd seen him earlier that day at the circus harassing the manager. I wanted to make sure he paid for what he did. But I was just a kid," I finish hatefully.
"You wanted vengeance," Leslie recounts. "You found someone to focus that anger on. Yet, as you said, you were only a child. You needed someone to fight for you, a hero, if you will, and who better than Bruce, the one who took you in during this time."
I stare at her, appalled. "Wait, wait. What are you saying? That Bruce isn't Batman?"
"What I'm saying is that there never was a Batman, that you merely created him by fashioning him after Bruce," she answers.
I continue to stare at her in disbelief. "No, you're wrong," I say in a slightly shaky voice. "Bruce is Batman. The Batcave is located beneath Wayne Manor. You've seen it. You've been in the Batcave." I begin to struggle against the restraints again, succeeding only in wearing myself out.
She writes something down in her notebook again and proceeds. "This was your first delusion. To most people, it would have only seemed like a child with an overactive imagination or one who had an imaginary friend. But it persisted, even as you grew older. You were having trouble keeping in touch with reality. Everyone was becoming concerned about you, especially when you made a costume for yourself and insisted that they call you Robin."
I stop my struggle and feel myself becoming panicky. "But I am Robin," I say urgently. "I mean, sometimes I'm Robin and sometimes I'm Dick. It's called a secret identity."
"Yet the purpose of a secret identity is to hide a person's identity so the actual identity is not known or suspected," she countered.
"Well, sure, a couple of people are bound to find out sooner or later," I say easily.
"No, Dick, not a couple. Everyone at your old school knew. Bruce sought the best professional help for you that money could buy. You were flown all over the world to see different doctors and psychiatrists. They tried various treatments and medications for you, yet nothing seemed to work, at least not for very long. We've even tried various medications for you here, but as you can see from your relapse today, we've had about as much luck as the professionals Bruce took you to see."
"How long have I been here?" I ask suspiciously.
"About three years now," she replies. "Bruce feared for your safety and those around you. He had you submitted here and visits as often as he can." She closes the notebook and rises slowly from the chair. "Now, I think it's time we go and see your friends."
"What friends?" I ask absently, trying to understand any of this.
"The other Teen Titans," she answers and calls in Benjamin to undo my restraints.