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Chapter 11
Prosopagnosia
PART I
…
Whenever someone knew joined Haley's Circus, it didn't take them long to notice the strange behaviours of their new coworkers when it came to the youngest performer. The child appeared shy, hesitant to approach other members of the troupe. But there were a few people he would approach enthusiastically. Like the fortune teller; she was always draped in shawls and wearing lots of bracelets, or Pop Haley, who was never seen without his top hat. He rarely ever spoke first, but almost as soon as someone spoke to him, the young boy would open up as if something within him had been unlocked.
It was incredibly odd when he would approach his own parents with hesitation. Often times they would smile at the boy, show him something on their wrists, and he would become an energetic chatterbox. Sometimes he would grin, or laugh, or even cry in relief when this happened. Ever stranger than that, this never occurred when his family was wearing the top half of their green leotards with a bright yellow G, which they did often.
The newcomers never understood, but the ones that stayed eventually learned. Few people could remember the name of the boy's condition, but knew he couldn't recognize faces because of it. He could remember people's names and other distinctive details, but never their faces.
It's why the fortune always wore her bracelets. The sound of them clinking together would tell the boy who she was. He was the reason Pop Haley hardly ever took off his top hat, because without it the youngest performer wouldn't recognize the man he considered a grandfather.
Dick Grayson is the reason the flying Graysons have leather bracelets with their names sewn onto it, and why they normally wear their very distinctive uniform. Because without it, he would not recognize who they were.
…
If watching his family be murdered wasn't enough, Dick's short tenure in the Gotham Center for Juvenile Delinquents was spent in a perpetual state of confusion. He didn't know anyone. The first few days a couple people tried to befriend him, but they stopped when they realized he wouldn't recognize them not even an hour later. It didn't help that everyone wore the same orange jumpsuit. He could recognize his cellmate in the morning and evening, but only within the context of their shared cell. Outside of it he had no idea who the other boy was.
The other kids would look at him and sneer, whispering loudly about how "There's something wrong with that kid, he's messed up."
The first kid that said that, Dick punched in the face. Over the next couple of days, Dick didn't get why these kids with bruised eyes kept glaring at him. He would quickly forget what they looked like when they turned away, but another one always showed up. He was too busy trying to watch out the boy he'd hit, but couldn't remember what that kid looked like either.
Three weeks had passed when the stranger took Dick out of the detention centre. The man said his name was Bruce Wayne, a famous name in Gotham. Then he explained he was the man who approached Dick after his parents died, asking if Dick would like to live with him.
The former aerialist naturally didn't recognize him, but he remembered the moment. Dick thought the man had forgotten what he looked like.
Despite the understanding of the circus folk, and the effort some of them put in to make themselves more recognizable, Dick had never fully understood his condition. To him, one day faces just stopped looking familiar. Everyone turned into a stranger. He was six when it started happening, obsessed with growing up, and assumed forgetting faces was just a part of it. His mother had tried to explain it once, but at the time he didn't get it. His family never even knew.
It wasn't until he screamed in surprise when he was awoken by a strange old man after his first night in Wayne Manor that he learned not knowing people's faces wasn't normal. He was eight when that happened. The butler, Alfred, quickly reminded Dick of who he was and said he was going to get Bruce. Dick didn't recognize the younger man Alfred brought into his room, but assumed it was Bruce. Still, he felt uneasy.
"How are you recognized?" Dick asked, and the two men looked at him in confusion. He reworded the question. "How do you recognize each other?"
Again they looked confused, and Dick sighed in frustration.
"You know!" He said in annoyance. "When you become strangers again, and your faces aren't your faces, how are you recognized?"
It was a question he asked frequently at the circus. Whoever he was talking to would smile and show him a necklace, or a tattoo on their leg, or a pair of shoes they always wore that meant they were exactly who they said they were. He thought those were for everyone, not just him. It's why he always wore something blue, so the other members of the circus could recognize him.
"Master Grayson, I'm not sure we know what you mean," Alfred said as Bruce left the room. "Our faces are never not our faces."
"They aren't?" Dick asked in surprise. Maybe Bruce and Alfred were different for some reason. When Bruce returned—and Dick only knew it was Bruce because of the striped grey tie—he was carrying a big medical dictionary, and showed something to Alfred. The butler's eyes widened and he looked at Dick.
"What?" Dick asked, feeling uncomfortable.
"You have prosopagnosia," Bruce stated bluntly, and proceeded to explain. That was the first time Dick understood what was different about him, and he wondered if the other kids at juvie had been right. Maybe he was messed up.
…
Dick always loved vigilantes, mostly because they were so easy to recognize. Their costumes hardly ever changed, and their faces were usually covered anyways, so he didn't have to know their faces to know Flash was actually the Flash, and Batman was really Batman. This was a very reassuring thought when he became one of them. Batman was a little jealous when Dick recognized most of the heroes on sight as he was introduced.
The other members of the Justice League were impressed with how observational the young child appeared. Even though many of them frowned upon his induction into the superhero world, they were also enamoured with him. Robin was talkative, skilled, and could even make the Dark Knight smile. He was quickly gaining their approval. Until Hal Jordan left the room, and returned without his power ring, meaning his Green Lantern uniform was gone as well.
Robin stiffened when the stranger entered the room. The man wasn't wearing a super hero's costume, and Robin wondered if he was an intruder. He looked at each Leaguer, judging their reactions to this newcomer. When no one panicked, Robin turned to the man and ask, "Who are you?"
Batman quickly informed him it was just Hal Jordan without his uniform, and ordered Robin to head home. The little bird was crestfallen, but listened. As the Zeta-Beam powered up, he heard Superman's first question.
"Batman, what's wrong with that child?"
…
It took a year of Robin kicking criminal ass on the streets of Gotham for the Justice League to accept him. He knew the moment he asked Bruce to train him that being a vigilante who was unable to recognize faces had its dangers. Ironically, the problem did not lie with the big time criminal crazies. Joker, Scarecrow, and Two-Face all had very recognizable appearances. And Robin knew he would never mistake Killer Croc for some innocent bystander.
But how would he know if someone walking past him on the street was Penguin's thug who had escaped during a bust? Or even Penguin himself without his top hat and cane? It just meant he had to do more, see more, and prove himself worthy of the name Robin, and he did.
This was exactly the boost of confidence Dick needed to gather his courage and tell Bruce something he always wanted to since his first September at the manor.
"I want to go to school." Dick, now ten years old, stood in front of Bruce with a determined expression. He had been homeschooled for the past two years, which was no different from the first eight of his life, but now he wanted to experience the real thing. Bruce gave him one calculating before nodding.
"Okay, if you think you're ready. You'll start in September."
"Yes!" Dick cheered. For the past two months he had been slowly gathering supplies as he built up his nerve, and already had a backpack stuffed with pens, pencils, and notebooks. He was only worried about one thing, how people would react to his prosopagnosia. When he was first taken in by Bruce, the media exploded, and reporters hounded them for weeks every time they left the manor. It take long for some of them notice Dick's strange behaviour, and Bruce decided it would be better to reveal Dick's condition rather than leave the media clinging to rumours and fabricating theories.
Because of this, almost everyone in Gotham knew of Dick's struggle. That didn't mean his classmates would understand it when they met face to face for the first time, or the second time, or the third time. But considering how improved Dick's observational skills were, he was confident everything would work out.
Two weeks before the start of the schoolyear, Bruce took Dick it for a placement test, to determine if he was up to par with his peers. Three days later the results came, and Dick had performed so well on his test that Gotham Prep was offering to bring him up a grade. Dick eagerly agreed.
Two days before his first real day of school the panic set in. Dick woke up and saw a uniform folded neatly on top of his desk. He hadn't bothered to consider that Gotham Prep was the middle school for Gotham Academy, a private school that demanded its students wear uniform. The task of recognizing his classmates had just become infinitely more difficult. Dick had taken into account that outfits would change daily, but for that one day he would know who someone was based on what they were wearing. The next day, he would just have to hope they sat in the same seats. He stared nervously at the dark blue blazer and slacks for several minutes before taking a deep breath and nodding firmly.
He was Dick Grayson, he was Robin. He could recognize a criminal from the smallest details, and he would recognize his classmates.
…
One person. Out of five classes, each with an average of twenty other students, he could only recognize one person his second day of school. Dick tried, really, but no one else he met was quite as distinguishable as Barbara Gordon, with her flaming red hair. They'd had an interesting first meeting during first period. Dick took the seat in the back corner of the room, so there were only two people he would have to try and recognize. Barbara was to his right, and he quickly started examining her features to try and store away anything he could remember her by. It didn't take her long to notice his unusual amount of focus on her, and she snapped at him to quit staring. Flustered, Dick introduced himself, and she did the same, then promptly ignored him the rest of the class. But as it turned out, they had several classes together, and Dick felt reassured every time he walked into a room and immediately recognized her, even if she wasn't so fond of him.
On his second day, Dick zeroed in on Barbara and immediately sat down beside the first class they had. He glanced at her, and saw that she was staring at him this time. Although it was more like a glare. He quickly focused back on his desk.
"Hey, Grayson." Dick looked at the boy sitting in front of him, and felt the panic rise when he couldn't figure out who it was. Yesterday first period, Louis had been sitting in front of him. But there was nothing to tell Dick whether this really was Louis, or another student he introduced himself to.
"Hey." Dick nodded, then looked at his desk again. Maybe-Louis just shrugged and sat down. Dick looked at Barbara again, and caught the slight turn of her head as she pretended she hadn't just been staring at him again. He hesitantly reached across the aisle and poked her shoulder.
"Um, Barbara?" He asked. Dick normally wasn't so quiet. Most people he met agreed he seemed very outgoing and talkative once he got going. But in a still unfamiliar setting, with no one he knew well beside him, Dick's nerves were getting the best of him.
"What?" Barbara asked, her voice just shy of snapping.
Dick checked to make sure maybe-Louis wasn't listening, or at least wasn't paying enough attention to overhear, and leaned across the aisle to whisper his question. "Um, who is that?"
"What?" Barbara asked again, giving Dick that look people gave him, like there was something wrong with him. Dick hated that look and fidgeted uncomfortably. "It's Kyle. You talked to him yesterday when class finished."
"Yeah, right." Dick nodded and chuckled nervously, quickly moving back to his own seat. Maybe he wasn't ready for school yet. There were several seconds of silence before he heard it, a soft "Oh," falling from Barbara's lips. She looked his way, and made the sound again.
"Right, you have, uh, progonosia?" She guessed.
"Prosopagnosia. I can't recognize faces," Dick explained.
"Oh. But you knew who I was?" She leaned towards him, obviously curious.
"Being distinguished helps." Dick shrugged. "I don't forget hair, most peoples' just isn't as memorable as yours."
"Oh," Barbara said again. "Yesterday, when you were staring, you were…"
"Trying to find something to remember you by," Dick confirmed.
"Sorry, then, for snapping," she said. While she didn't sound particularly sincere, Dick knew she meant it. "Does anyone else here know?"
"The teachers were told. The other students, they probably heard it at some point two years ago, when everyone was making a big deal about it. But I don't think they'd remember right away," Dick said.
"So no one knows that you won't know they're, well, them," she summarized.
"No, they won't."
"Then I guess this means I'll just have to help you," Barbara stated matter-of-factly and leaned back in seat. Dick blinked and looked at her in surprise, not expecting the offer.
"Hey, you already know how to recognize me. Look at some other people," Barbara jested. It was the first joke someone had ever said about his condition that made him laugh.
"Okay. Kyle, then."
"Okay. It's not easy to see with these uniforms, but I know he's got this birthmark on his wrist…"
…
Robin was proud to say he only accidentally called Wally Roy, or Roy Wally no more than three times. Both older, but less experiences, protégés were similar in height and build at the time. They had similar hairstyles, and were both redheads, a feature Dick decided was a good crutch when it came to recognizing people. After all, it was the rarest hair colour in the world. He found it thoroughly ironic, then, that he knew three redheads, two of which were very alike.
Batman wasn't pleased the first time the Flash suggested all three of their protégés get to know each other outside of the uniform. The archer and speedster did not know of Robin's difficulty, and Batman didn't want any of Robin's weaknesses to be leaked. He already didn't like it that half the Justice League knew, thanks to that first incident with Hal Jordan. But eventually he relented, because without his mask Dick had the greatest puppy dog eyes, and Bruce couldn't resist those wavering blues when Dick begged to give him the chance to make more friends. It was something Dick struggled with enough as it is, considering Barbara was his only friend. He didn't want to be separated from the other junior heroes too.
Their first outing together went well. They were in Central City, arguably the calmest of the three, and with Wally talking a mile a minute there was never an instant for Robin forget which of redheads was which. Their second time together was when he made the first mistake. Robin was late getting through the Zeta-Beam, and exited the faux photo booth to find the archer and speedster glaring at each other, after what was presumably a rather heated fight. It didn't look like either of them had plans to speak soon.
Robin looked back and forth between them, adjusting the sunglasses that obscured his own identity, and made a decision. He swivelled to face on of the redheads, wearing a gray sweatshirt.
"Wally, what did you guys do?" He asked. When the boy looked at him in confusion, Robin knew he'd made a mistake.
"Hey, dude, did you already forget what I look like?" Wally asked, waving a hand in front of Robin's face. The younger hero recoiled and looked shamefully at the ground.
"Yes," Robin muttered and, against Batman's orders, explained prosopagnosia to his two newest friends. Roy gave him a weird look, but otherwise just shrugged and accepted it. Wally immediately started comparing himself to the archer, holding a hand above his head, and moving it across the space between them to measure their height, then tugging at Roy's hair while struggling to look at his own.
"I'll grow it out," Wally decided. "I'm hungry, does anyone want pizza?"
…
At the age of thirteen years, Dick had grown adept at handling the downfalls of his condition. He was an excellent vocal analyst, and now managed to recognize most new people he met by their voice alone. He learned to notice every little detail, looking for the most distinguishable thing about a person, so he would know who they were the next time they met.
As Robin, he had undergone a few unfortunate experiences over the past five years because of his struggles. But he never let that slow him down. The scars he earned served as a reminder of how much he needed to see. Batman had tried, once before, to talk him down from being a vigilante after a particularly brutal beating at the hands of Two Face. It was completely unrelated to Robin's prosopagnosia, but Batman still tried to use it against him anyways. It didn't work. Bruce tried to take away the uniform, and Robin simply struck out on his own. He was away from the manor for three days before Bruce relented. Dick knew he would see sense.
Thirteen years, and Robin was sick of having to prove himself. When Batman promised they would get to see the League headquarters, Robin thought he had finally done. But he was sorely mistaken, and almost regretted not walking out with Roy. But he would never regret the following events that night. Hacking into the Watchtower, finding the sublevels of Cadmus, and rescuing Superboy. It was one of the greatest moments of Dick's life.
Standing defiantly in front of his mentor, and the rest of the Justice League, with his best friend by his side he felt stronger than ever.
"We're ready, Batman," Robin said. It wasn't a statement, it was a demand, a threat. Robin was the only one who saw it, but when Batman gave a slow, almost imperceptible nod, he grinned.
Prosopagnosia be damned, Robin knew he was a great hero, and soon the Justice League would know it too.
…
I don't really like this chapter, at all, and I'm gonna rewrite it, but I didn't want to miss an update. I'll let you guys know when I do so anyone interested can reread it. I sort of already have an idea, but it's too late to work on it right now! I might do a second version of prosopagnosia where he isn't born with it, if you guys are up for it.
This topic was originally supposed to appear later in the story, but I stumbled across a section about it in my psych text book and just had to write it. The next prosopagnosia chapter will be with the Team, and probably how they learn of Robin's condition (as well as the issues that come with being a vigilante with prosopagnosia)
I promise 100% that Hyposmia will be the next chapter. I probably would have bumped it back anyways since, if you haven't noticed, I follow a pattern. Odd chapters are Robin-centric, even chapters focus on Nightwing (some even chapters may start out as Robin, but that's just for the start of the mini-story, the later sections are all Nightwing)
I struggled a bit at the beginning, trying to get into the head of a child with prosopagnosia. Obviously it would be very confusing for them, and for a while they wouldn't understand what's wrong. For most children with prosopagnosia, you don't even know they have it. They just appear shy and wary when around people. It typically isn't until they're older than the condition can be diagnosed.
People with outstanding features are easier to remember (such as Barbara's red hair), but often times those afflicted with prosopagnosia must be observant to remember details about people, such as their voices. This is why, when Dick was younger, he would only talk to someone if they spoke first, because he would recognize their voice if he knew them well enough.
Nightshadowgirl: Thanks! This schedule is definitely working better. I've had to hold posting on a couple of my larger stories, but this one will continue on as planned!
Grayson4life: It's gonna be an interesting and tumultuous time, that's for sure
Mirnava: Thank you for the correction about paralyzed and paralysis, and the well-wishes about my writer's block! I have a better idea of what to do for the Hyposmia chapter now. I'll probably stick with monthly updates on this story for a while. I don't think it will be permanent, but if I start to speed up, then suddenly slow down again, you can be rest assured that I will still update on the 17th of every month (unless I'm completely tapped out of ideas)
Goingdownwithmyships: Is it wrong that I'm happy to hear that? Or read it, technically. As a writer, there's just something enjoyable about knowing my writing can make you guys feel things. It's amazing
Culinary-Alchemist: Not to worry! There will be more of the Paralysis story!
Ms. Rhianna Grayson-Wayne: Thank you, I'll do my best!
'See' you next time!
