Memories

By AJ

Part 2

As Bruce traveled to Metropolis his thoughts went back six weeks ago . . .

"Dick I don't want you to do this."

"You know I'm more suited for it," Dick reminded Bruce. "No one knows me over there. It's been ages since Dick Grayson has been in the news. And that particular Wayne Tech plant has only been around for three years."

"I could send in Tim," Bruce said.

"No offense to Tim's abilities, but the area we're looking at has nothing to do with the software, it's the components. I helped you build this equipment and you need someone on the inside who can recognize what it is that's being stolen. You can't go in, unless you can disguise yourself as a computer geek. Bruce Wayne isn't supposed to be big on those things."

"And you're big on all of that," Bruce sarcastically conceded with a slight smile, trying not to give away the pride he was feeling and the angst. "Just be careful."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Dick answered, though in truth he had some trepidation. They didn't know whom they were dealing with, and going in cold he would have to be extra careful.

"Before you go, take this," Bruce handed Dick a small bat-shaped disk.

"A bat tracker," Dick observed. "I'm way ahead of you there," Dick opened his hand to reveal five tracking devices in his hand.

"I wasn't thinking about the equipment," Bruce said under his breath.

"I guess one more won't hurt," Dick conceded. He placed the tracking devices in a small pouch hidden in his belt. Taking any of his Nightwing gear was out of the question. Where he was going, the manufacturing plant was outside of New York, in Jersey City, no one would know him and he wanted it that way.

Dick went upstairs to his room and packed a couple of suitcases. He packed his older looking clothes to give the impression he was down on his luck. A hiring letter from Lucius Fox and the chief of personnel gave him the means to be at the plant free and clear, working as a security guard. It was the perfect cover. He knew what components to look for that could be stolen. His training under Batman and working as a police officer in Bludhaven gave him unique skills that no other security guard had. And that made him the right person for the job.

Dick was just finishing his packing when Bruce walked into his room.

"I'll have Alfred drive you to the airport. I wish I could take you there myself."

"And what would that look like," Dick said, smiling. "Hopefully, I'll only be gone long enough to learn who's been stealing computer parts to create their own Cray. I'll be sure to plant the tracking devices the same day I start. Um Bruce . . ." Dick had his suitcases in hand waiting for Bruce to move from the doorway.

Bruce moved aside and let his eldest exit his room. Dick stopped for a moment and looked him in the eye. "It's not like when I went off to college. I will be back. You know after all this time you can trust my word."

The last statement stung, reminding him of their last argument, the one that drew . . . . Bruce wanted to believe his son, but a feeling of foreboding danger crept into his soul.

/

Bruce arrived at Clark's apartment and knocked. Clark opened the door and let his friend in.

"Where's Dick?" Bruce asked looking around and getting right down to business.

"I moved him to the bedroom. He's still asleep. I got a chance to examine him under his clothes. He's lost some weight and he has bruises all over his body like he had been punched or struck several times with a blunt object. His wrists were rubbed raw from what looked like shackles. His ribs were broken at one time and both shoulders were dislocated as well. His back looks like someone was trying to strip it of its flesh. Whatever he's been through was pretty nasty."

"You said both his shoulders had been dislocated?" Bruce asked. "Sounds like he had escaped from somewhere that he had to crawl through. Also if he was tied up, possibly in a straight jacket, dislocating the shoulders help in escaping. Houdini learned that trick. Dick also learned that from the circus. He taught it to me. Came in handy quite a few times. I'd like to look in on him." Mentioning the shackles around his wrists and about his back worried Bruce more. They probably chained him somewhere and beat him with a blunt object, which caused the broken ribs as well. 'They were trying to break him,' he thought. 'It was obvious they kept him alive, but for what purpose would have to be determined.'

Clark led Bruce to the Master Bedroom. Bruce observed that Clark had removed Dick's shoes, belt, jacket, and what was left of his tattered shirt. He also spotted the bruising on Dick's arms as well as the raw marks on his wrists. He glanced at Dick's back and hitched in a breath. The lashes looked red and infected. Bruce sat on the bed and brushed his hand through Dick's unruly hair. It had grown out since he last saw him. 'He's going to need a haircut,' he thought.

Bruce continued to sit next to Dick, watching him sleep then he said while staring into his son's sleeping face, "Tell me more about the other problem that you told me over the phone."

"He remembers you, and possibly Alfred, your butler. He didn't know me, but he clearly remembered the death of his parents. For him, he believes it's only a few days after you took him in as your ward, before you officially adopted him."

"Was there any head injury that could account for the memory loss?"

"He did receive a nasty blow to the head, but it looks like an old injury, at least a few weeks old, not days. The cut has healed. May have happened when whomever took him prisoner. It wouldn't account for the memory loss."

Bruce sat for a moment thinking on what Clark said about what Dick remembered. No, he wouldn't do that, unless . . . There was one way to test it, but he didn't dare risk waking his son. He would just have to trust his judgement, which it's been hard to do ever since their argument. "Before Dick went off to college I taught him some mental techniques to quadrant off certain memories in order to protect vital information so it wouldn't get lost, especially if he found himself caught and alone. It involves going through a trance and setting up blocks and triggers. The information had to be considered so vital that he must have set up several such layers. The deepest layer must involve the investigation we've been working on with Wayne Tech. Each subsequent layer he must have added to protect other information he did not want his abductors finding out."

"I've never heard of such a technique," Clark said.

"I learned it in my travels when I was younger, before returning to Gotham City. It's similar to setting up folders on a computer. Each folder contains a certain number of memories. Each is locked and cannot be opened without a trigger word or event or both."

"How do we get him to remember?"

"That's just it. The memories have to be triggered and not just any old way. Saying a word or telling about the event won't unlock the memory. It may mean re-enacting the event or creating the right setting, but there is a danger."

"What kind of danger?" Clark asked.

"Unless you know the person well, if you don't follow the right order of those memories or events, it could trigger something else, and his memories could be completely erased.

"This isn't a computer hardrive we're talking about here," Clark said.

"I know that," Bruce snapped back.

Clark looked at Bruce's face and saw the anguish he was going through under the surface and excused the outburst. "Bruce, what happens if something goes wrong?"

"Mentally, and emotionally," Bruce brushed his fingers along Dick's jaw-line. "Dick could remain as a 10 year old boy, and every event and memory up to the present day that defines who he is will be gone forever. And we will never get those moments back."

Continues with Part 3