Disclaimer. I have no rights to Batman or any other DC Comics character. I make no cash on this.

Chapter Fourteen - History

Leslie looked at her tea as she continued. "He was such a smart child, and very precocious. He'd decided at the age of six that he was to be a priest, and he lived his life like he was. His family nodded and smiled, and let him play his little game." She sighed. "They didn't laugh and smile nearly as much when he left for his studies. His memory is excellent, he'd read something once and it was with him forever."

Dick spoke up. "Photographic memory, right?"

Dr. Thompson nodded. "Most likely, but it was more than what he could see. You could describe a room to him, and he could walk through it with his eyes closed and pick out the right book from the shelves. He could tell you a conversation, word by word, three years after hearing it. That child had a mind like a steel trap, nothing ever escaped."

Alfred poured a bit more tea into her cup. "And as for becoming a priest?"

"He was so excited, so thrilled. He was a grand priest, completely loyal to his faith and adopted family of the congregation. Then came the accident." She took a sip, then continued. "He was driving, one of only three passions he considered un-priestly. The other two were his smoking and caffeine. He simply nodded off at the wheel one night, and the car wandered into the oncoming lane. The other driver didn't see him in time, and they collided head on. The other driver was fine, just a bit battered, even though his truck was totaled. But Tyler..."

"His eyes." Dick took a sip of his own tea.

"By the time it was realized what was going on, and with them trying to save him from massive internal injuries, those glass shards in his face had done irreparable damage to his eyes. He lives in complete darkness now, no light or shadows. A man that could see the world with such detail can't see his own hands when he holds them in front of his face."

She sighed, then continued. "I was a friend of the family, and they called me in to see if anything could be done for him. It was hopeless, and I was so afraid for him. Many times when someone is disabled in some fashion, they end up rather bitter at life and those that are whole. He was never like that, not once. To him, this is a fine joke, something to laugh at. His church won't let him perform many of his duties, but he's still happy in his faith." There was a glimpse of a smile. "He's in charge of filing paperwork and typing out reports. No one dares pull him from the church library, and his typing is perfect once someone tells him the layout of the keyboard. He's also involved in marriage counseling, confessional, and generally helping those around him."

"How old is he? He sounds so old, to have lived through so much." Dick finished his tea, and set the cup aside.

"He's all of thirty-two years old. The accident was when he was twenty-three."

Alfred took that moment to speak up. "He is still a young man, in the great scheme of things. To be faithful to the world and his faith, after such a loss..." He glanced over to Dick, who was looking at his hands in rapt contemplation. "In that, he reminds me of two other people in my life that have suffered through their losses and found a way to survive." Grayson remained silent, but nodded slightly.

Leslie took a moment herself, then continued. "He's even sharper now. He has this way of finding his way around, by means that I've never understood. He touched that stone, turned his head, and immediately knew he was far underground. His sensitivity is such, from before the accident and now, that he's able to find his way around with very little difficulty." She smiled again. "In fact, the only time I've seen that man lost was in a shopping center, when a door he walked through by accident led to the walkways behind all the shops. He was panicked, and it took security finding me to talk to him, that he was willing to be calmed down. I personally think the echoes and strange doors boggled him for a moment, and he didn't know where to go anymore."

Alfred cleared his throat, then spoke. "Master Bruce has told me of those that, with no sense that can be quantified, can produce actions that seem impossible to modern science. "

"That's true, Alfred. He's spoken of martial artists that have such concentration, you'd think they could see everything, even in a pitch black room, to reach out and pick up something on a table, or on the floor." Grayson sighed, and ran a hand through his short hair. "I don't see though, how that's going to help him with Bruce. He's become something that's colder than the wind and weather outside the Manor."

Leslie smiled. "If anyone has enough faith in the impossible, it's Tyler. And we should trust him in his actions."

*memo-sorry for getting carried away with my original character, but some of this was important to me, in more ways than one. next chapter, back to the fun!