Part Nine

The drive back to Wayne Manor was tense, quiet and heavy with all the things no one was saying.

"I'd like our own doctor take a look at you if that's all right with you."

"Sure."

"I wasn't sure if you'd be hungry so I thought you could decide if you felt like dinner this evening, Master Richard. The kitchen is at your complete disposal.

"Thank you." Pause. "Could you please not call me 'Master'? It's a little archaicly class system."

"As you wish, sir."

They stopped at the main gate, Alfred pushing the dashboard button to let them pass. Dick turned his head to watch them close behind them but didn't say anything. They drove along, slowly navigating the three mile long driveway, goin g past the lawns, small lake, stables, outbuildings, tennis court and finally pulling up to the front door. He looked up at the huge house as though seeing it for the first time.

"Is any of this familiar?"

"No."

"Perhaps you might like to change into some of your own clothing, you may be more comfortable."

"All right." He looked around the foyer.

"It's up the stairs, third door on the right."

"Thank you...?"

"Alfred."

He nodded and headed over to the stairs, his hand resting lightly on the bannister he delighted in sliding down as a child, as though feeling the polished wood for the first time. In the bedroom, which he discovered was a large suite with, in addition to the bedroom itself included a sitting room, walk in closet and full bath along with a walk-in closet larger than the room he was sharing at rehab. It was furnished with obviously old and somewhat heavy furniture, a state of the art media center with a window wall and balcony which overlooked the outside pool and acres of lawn.

He found a pair of jeans and a black sweater then spent long minutes studying the room's personal contents, things which were supposedly his but which he had no memory of ever seeing. There were large framed circus posters on the wall featuring the Flying Graysons and which he assumed referred to his family since he'd been told his last name was Grayson. There was a photo on the bed stand which looked like a younger version of himself smiling with two adults, presumably his parents. They all looked happy and he wished he could remember them, they seemed like they were—are?—nice people.

If his name was Grayson, why did he live with the man he'd met today, Bruce Wayne? Did Superman say he'd been adopted? He wasn't sure. So, his parents were dead? Or was 'adopted' a euphemism for something else? Were he and Wayne lovers?

And who was Alfred, an employee, a relative?

Next he moved over to the large bookshelf, curious as to what books he liked enough to keep close at hand. Whatever he was, he wasn't someone who delved deeply into philosophy. There were dozens of science fiction paper backs, a few biographies of circus performers like the Wallendas and some old high school year books which he was just about to look through when the soft knock interrupted his thoughts. "Come in." It was Wayne.

"'Settling in?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Is there anything you need?"

He was at a loss. It seemed like everything known to man was probably in this room so, aside from his memory, he was sure he could cope with the place but the man was trying and deserved an answer, "Like what?"

Wayne seemed stiff, uncomfortable. "I don't know, is there anything you can't find in here?"

He decided to cut to the chase, the niceties could come later. "Do you know why I know who Superman is, his real name? Do you know him or something?"

"We've worked together for a number of years and have mutual friends. You've known him since you were nine years old and he's very fond of you, 'treats you like you're a member of his family."

"Really?" Superman? Holy crap, how cool was that? "What do you mean that you work together? What work? And why would he trust you and me—a kid—with his secret identity? Isn't that supposed to be like top secret?"

Wayne seemed uncomfortable with that. "That's complicated and we'll get to it but let's start with easier questions, okay?"

Annoyed, Dick didn't push it for now. "Why do I live here? I think someone said that you adopted me; why? I get it was probably because my folks (he glanced at the framed photo) are either dead or bad parents but why you?"

"Your parents were aerialists, so were you. The show you all worked for was targeted by organized crime in a protection scheme. Your parents were the first accident, I saw it happen, was at the show and..."

"Felt sorry for me?"

"And thought I could help and understand what you were going through; my parents were killed when I was about the same age."

"What age?"

"You were nine."

Dick nodded, it made sense. "And I've been here ever since?"

"Yes, in this room and you decided on the décor as well. You went to college for a semester but it didn't take. You've been living in Bludhaven the last few months, waiting to test for their police department."

He didn't like that he was treating what should have been the pivotal moment in his life like a movie he hadn't seen (and he should remember something like that, he should remember them, they looked like nice people) but it made sense that he might channel it into wanting to avenge their deaths by being a cop. "I want to be a cop? Because of my parents being murdered?"

"More or less, yes. That's the short version, but it's accurate."

"Who's the old guy?"

"Alfred Pennyworth and don't refer to him like that. He raised us both, he's the best thing here and you'll treat him with respect no matter what you've been through the last few weeks, is that understood?"

"Yeah, sure. 'Sorry. So does he work here?"

Wayne's small temper tantrum was over but an edge had crept into his voice. "He's worked for my family for over thirty years, yes. He's technically the butler but he's my right hand—and yours, too. He'd lay down his life for either of us if he needed to and I'd do the same for him."

Dick held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. I get it. Lay off Alfred. So, 'you married, have any kids or anyone I should know about?"

"Never been married, no kids, no." He didn't like that he was getting a little testy when he knew Dick needed to feel safe and made comfortable, maybe a change of subject would defuse things a little. "Dinner should be about ready, why don't we head downstairs and I'll show you around a little. Maybe something will strike a cord."

"Sure, fine."

"And I've arranged for a family friend, a doctor who's known you since the first day you came here, to come over and check to make sure that you're all right physically. Leslie Thompkins, you like her and she's as good as they come. She'll be here after dinner."

"You don't waste time, do you?"

* * *

Dinner was strained, which surprised no one.

"I've made all your favorites, young sir, so do eat up. After what you've been through I would think you'd be famished."

"Thank you." He looked at the loaded plate, at the steak, two baked potatoes, con on the cob and a large stein of some kind of no doubt imported beer. It was overwhelming and he felt nauseous at the thought of eating it all.

"And be sure to save room for desert, chocolate cake, just as you love it; Ala mode." The man withdrew, practically bowing on his way out. Dick wondered if this was to be expected every meal or if this was just in honor of the prodigal's return.

They were trying, God knew they were all trying here. He spoke to Bruce as he sliced a piece of meat. "What else do I like, aside from enough food for a small African village?"

"You're one of the top gymnasts on the planet; I think you're currently ranked about number three."

"I'm like on the national team?"

"No, but you have a standing offer to join whenever you want. There have also been similar offers from the coaches from Russia, Romania, Germany, Belarus and, I think China."

"Seriously?"

"Um-hmm. You're really quite good."

"No shit? Cool." He slathered more butter on his potatoes. "So what's the complication about you and Superman knowing each other. You said we'd get to it."

"And we will, but not yet."

"Why not?"

"I don't think you're ready." He saw the dark look. "We will get into it, but I want to make sure that the doctor is happy with your progress first."

"'Must be something major for you to be this paranoid but whatever. Do I have any friends? Seeing someone besides you and the old...Alfred might help."

"It might and as soon as..."

"I know, as soon as the doctor okay's it we'll get to it."

The rest of the dinner passed in relative silence.

* * *

Dr. Thompkins was as advertised, professional, no-nonsense and clearly personally concerned about him as she went through a thorough examination up in his room. "You've had worse and I suspect that you'll recover from this round as well. Physically you're in good shape, a little thin but Alfred will take care of that soon enough. As for your memory, it will come back by itself, the key is not to push it. The more you obsess over it, the more you worry, the more it usually blocks."

"So just try to let it go and one of these days I'll wake up and the light will be back on?"

"Something like that. It could take a few months, it could take a year, but in almost every case like this, it does come back."

"All of it or will there be gaps?"

"There's no way top tell yet. Some things may take longer than others, it's not uncommon but you should be close to where you were before you were knocked over the head."

"Great."

She softened her demeanor, "You're one of the toughest people I know, Dick; you always have been and this won't be any different. You're going to come out of this even stronger than you were before this happened and, knowing you, you'll find a way to use this to your advantage—mark my words." She squeezed his shoulder for emphasis and he was grateful for the human contact, something he realized with a rush of feeling that he'd been craving.

"Do I have any friends? Bruce said I do but..."

"Of course you do, good friends, close friends who would do anything for you and who have been looking for you since you went missing."

"Could I see them?"

"I don;t see any reason why not but I do suggest that you wait at least until tomorrow. You've been through a lot and it's been quite a day, even for you. Get a good rest and then see, all right?" She was closing her bag, finished with her exam. "And you know that if you need me for anything, even if it's just to talk, all you have to do is call."

"Thank you, you've been very kind."

It was in that simple, polite comment that she realized just how far away the young man they knew really was. No hug, not enthusiasm, no real joy; Dick was still lost.

* * *

Donna almost squealed, barely restraining herself. "He's back! They found him in Bludhaven and he's back at the Manor and he's all right except Bruce said that he has some trouble remembering—but that should pass." She hugged Wally in her excitement, twirling herself around him and laughing.

Roy's laughter wasn't nearly as innocent. "Grayson's gone for almost a month and now he's pleading amnesia? Oh, man—she must have been something for him to pull that old chestnut."

"You think he was, you know, with some girl?"

"Wally, my man, this is the Boy Wonder we're talking about. What? You thought he was being held captive by some crime lord, maybe under alien mind control? Our boy Nightwing was getting himself some serious..." The last was lost as Speedy started laughing again. "So much for innocence lost."

"God, Roy, you're such an ass."

TBC