He was freezing.

And he was outside.

And quite frankly he was beyond confused. In a blink of the eye he found himself outside the manor with no recollection on how he'd gotten there or why. Dick's teeth chattered as he looked up at the front entrance, why was he out here? How did he get here?

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath trying to retrace his footsteps and when he opened his eyes he found himself somehow inside and at the end of one of the many staircases that led upstairs. "W-What?" He furrowed his brows and stood there, freezing.

uh.

He didn't remember getting inside here, all he remembered was looking up at the door. Not actually opening the damn thing...was he losing his mind today? How much sleep had he gotten? Was he even awake? Dick shook his head and just walked up the stairs and once he reached the top he shuddered. It was absolutely freezing in here today, "Bruce?!" He called out as he walked down the hall, "Alfred?!" No reply.

He paused when he noticed the door to Bruce's room was cracked open and rushed over to it. "Bruce...you in there?" He peeked his head in and he felt his confusion continue to grow when he saw Bruce's room was completely trashed and the curtains were closed. Clothes were strewn about and he could hear his phone going off on the nightstand, he walked over to it and there was a missed call from Clark? He was about to pick the phone up but paused when he heard something coming from the bathroom, he turned around and sighed a breath of relief. He could see the light from underneath the bathroom door, Bruce was in there.

Thank God he wasn't alone.

"Bru-" He started to say but he immediately stopped when he could the shower running and what sounded like- muffled crying? "Bruce is that you?" He asked stepping back, well it had to be him. Alfred sure as hell wasn't using Bruce's bathroom, he had his own. And he knew it wasn't him because he was obviously standing right here.

Bruce had his demons and he knew it. But he had no idea it was this bad though, "Bruce are you okay?" He asked, the sound of running water stopped and after a moment of silence the sound of some drawers opening could be heard. Just as Dick was about to leave the room the door opened quickly startling him.

Bruce stood in the doorway wearing a bathrobe, his hair sticking up in every direction and he looked as if that shower had taken every ounce of energy in his body. He gripped the doorway and stood there silently for a moment, "Shit, I'm sorry I thought I heard something and I wanted to make sure you were alrigh-" Dick started to say but Bruce just looked ahead and slowly walked past him and sat at the edge of his bed not even acknowledging him.

"Uh..." Dick just stared at him. "Bruce?"

Did the guy forget his name or something? He felt as if he'd called for him at least a hundred times by now, "Bruce are you okay?" He asked as he went up to him, frowning. "You look like you haven't slept for days." Did he really have to nag at his guardian now? Where was Alfred?

Dick stood there and waited for a response but Bruce didn't move or even look up, "Bruce come on." This was getting really annoying now, "You get ticked whenever I ignore you, don't go and do it to me now!" He hissed, crossing his arms. "That's rude. I just want to make sure you're okay."

Nothing.

"Bruce stop it please, you're starting to worry me." Dick knelt down and waved his hand in front of Bruce's face and his eyes widened when Bruce didn't seem to notice him at all, he just shivered. "B-Bruce?"

He stepped back and just stood there wide eyed.

It was like he didn't exist.

Like he wasn't there.

He couldn't see him.

He couldn't hear him.

Bruce finally looked up when his phone went off again and he seemed to want to ignore it but after a moment or two he grabbed it and stood up and he answered it. "Clark." His voice sounded hoarse, unused. He clenched his eyes shut and exhaled and rushed out of the room the door slamming shut behind him.

Dick felt his lip quiver, "No wait! Bruce!" he went to run after him but when he tried to turn the door knob he couldn't get it to turn.

He couldn't grip the knob.

He couldn't even get his fingers to bend. They felt like they'd been frozen.

Dick stumbled back, the room growing colder by the second. Dick looked at his hand and he felt his lip quiver when he noticed how pale his hands were, there was no color to him. He rushed over to the mirror Bruce had near his dresser and he just stared at his reflection- or the lack of one.

There was nothing staring back at him in the mirror.

It was as if he really wasn't here.

He forced his eyes shut, none of this was happening.

This was a nightmare, a nightmare. That was it.

Just a dream.

Just a dream.

As soon as he would open his eyes he'd be in his room and he'd probably scream, Bruce would hear him and see him. He'd exist, he'd be real. This was just a dream, a crazy stupid dream that didn't make sense at all.

That's how dreams worked they weren't supposed to make sense.

It would be okay.

Dick forced his eyes open and he shrieked when he found himself standing in the middle of a brightly lit room that stunk badly of death, the walls were an old white tile as was the floor, and two men stood by a stainless steel table. They seemed to be covering something with a sheet, one stepped back and Dick could now see what looked like a pale foot and a hand hanging over the edge. "Are we putting him with the others?"

The second man frowned, "He won't be here for another day, as long as he isn't room temperature he'll be fine." The man shivered and shoved his hand in his pockets.

His coworker shrugged and checked his watch, "Well I'm getting out of here," He said walking up to the sink. "This shit is fucked."

"You can say that again," The man replied as he just left the room not even bothering to wash his hands. His coworker just scowled and rushed after him like a lost puppy, muttering something about not wanting to be with the dead any longer.

Dick watched the men leave and shut and lock the door behind them and he fixed his attention to the stainless steel table.

This felt wrong on so many levels.

He just stood there for what felt like hours but in reality was most likely seconds. Dick shuddered and just looked at that table and he didn't even realize he was walking over to it until it was right in front of him.

A white sheet covered the table but he could see a pale hand sticking out from underneath and a foot with a tag tied to one of the toes. A toe tag?

This was a morgue.

God why couldn't he wake up!?

He knew he shouldn't read the tag but he was so confused and he just needed to know what the hell was happening. He needed to know what the hell was up with this dream, if it meant something or if Scarecrow had done something.

Scarecrow...

Now that would explain so much! He must have broken out of Arkham and he must have used his fear toxin! That had to be it.

Dick felt himself relax slightly and he looked at the tag and any amount of relief he had was suddenly ripped out from him when he read that name.

Richard John Grayson

"Oh god." He whimpered, "Oh God." This wasn't happening, this was just a nightmare. This wasn't happening, just a nightmare. A really fucked up nightmare, it was impossible. He couldn't be dead he was standing right here! He wasn't dead, it was impossible he couldn't be dead.

Impossible.

This was a dream.

He wasn't dead.

Now if he just took a deep breath and closed his eyes he'd open them and find himself back in his room. Alive.

He wasn't dead.

You're not dead.

It's not possible.