AN: I'm going to be honest in this. Though Dick Grayson is my third favorite DC character (following Diana Prince and Pamela Isely), there is just so much Batman that there are going to be plot holes and inconsistencies everywhere. This is also my first fanfic focusing on Dick. I have ones focusing on Jason, Kirk, and Pamela already. Thank you for your understanding and acceptance. I'm just here to have fun 😊

Dick in a Box

Chapter One – New Identities

Another night in Bludhaven meant another night of exhaustion and crime fighting, another night trying to be a good guy and strike out on his own. At least, that's the way Nightwing or once-travelling-acrobat, Dick Grayson, thought about it. He wanted to do some good and whether that meant leading a team, like Batwoman had been charged with, or going out on his own, he wanted to follow his values just as his guardian had taught him.

There was the sound of alarms and Dick once more went out in the black and blue to try to take down the criminal. As he made his way through the residence, he landed on the ground and stretched his hand down, looking for clues. There were so many things that Bruce had instilled in him. You had to make sure to find each exit way out of a location, you had to learn how to turn anything into a life saving weapon, you had to learn the limits of your opponent before engaging in a fight with them because you wanted to be able to challenge them and win but leave them able to contemplate their actions which required a working brain.

Hearing another noise, Dick did a back flip and managed to look around. He could create a mental map of any place with only being there less than three minutes and he was working on getting that time dropped. He needed to figure out how each fight would play out as soon as his foot touched the pavement. That's what Bruce would do, what Batman would do.

With a deep inhale, he managed to hear the sound of two guys about to break the glass of a building. If he went to the wall, jumped, grabbed the railing, used it to do a double flip to grab onto the other railing, then he could drop down successfully in front of the crooks and deliver a flawless one-liner.

Or he could have had he not felt a piercing sting of an arrow in his shoulder.

What would Green Arrow be doing shooting at him? Or what would he be doing out of Seattle and in this neck of the woods? Those were the questions that Dick asked himself before he fell onto the ground, unable to get up. He heard menacing laughter and felt somebody grab his body. Okay. Play dead. Why wasn't he able to get up?

…

…

"You, sir, have the intelligence of a dung beetle and the sense of humor of a piece of dry toast."

"Yeah, and I ain't thinking that joke's funny,"

"Why don't you let the coin decide if that's funny, you know the black comedy of the tragic clown."

Richard Grayson opened his eyes as he heard those familiar voices but he couldn't move. White padded cell. What on earth was he doing in here? The way the place looked, the way it smelled, the sounds….this was Arkham. Why was he in Arkham?

"New convict, ey?" Dick heard and he managed to soften his breath. He looked up to see Waylon Jones staring at him. Wasn't he supposed to be on the Suicide Squad? Turned over a new leaf? Well, trust Waller for letting her special task force remain influenced by the people in this crappy psycho jail.

"There's been a mistake," he tried to say before freezing. That voice wasn't his. What was happening? Why was he so weak? He had to keep a low profile. Jason was blown up by the Joker alone, the first death of a Robin. He could take the Joker on solo when he was at his best, he had stepped in as the Batman in Bruce's absence, but even Bruce would have difficulty finding his way out of Arkham.

Maybe he could get some answers if he saw him.

"What are you newbie?" Waylon continued, "You look like you're in your forties."

"And you look like you've escaped from the zoo," Dick returned attempting to be in character. Obviously people here didn't recognize him as either Nightwing or Robin and it was best if he kept a low profile. He closed his eyes and tried to take notes of his situation. He was in the body of a criminal or at least he had been mistaken for a criminal. Without any glass around, maybe he could find out how he looked in one of the bars of the cell.

He managed to stand and then immediately fell down.

This wasn't going to be easy. As he moved forward, he noticed that his body was smaller, weaker. He saw his reflection and froze. This wasn't his body and he had honestly believed that…who knows what to believe anymore, with so many flashpoints and time changes and superheroes wanting to fly around the earth and go back in time, it was hard to rule anything out as an impossibility.

He looked like a dirtbag hobo but his eyes were different colors, one was a deep red whilst the other was gold. Okay, so magic. Maybe this man had some type of magic? Dick made his way back to the bed and sat down on it, closing his eyes and trying to think of all the powers that he could have. He listened hard to the sounds around him, something felt as if it were connecting to them. Sound frequency? Who had he been against who dealt with sound frequency apart from Manbat.

Dick's mind wandered as he thought about Wayne Manor and the grandfather clock and the Batcave. Maybe he could manipulate some sound frequency to send a signal, maybe he could work out if there was a way he could break free from this cell.

Bruce, he thought deeply to himself, Bruce. God damn it, if there's a way to get me out of this Bruce would -

Hello? Who is this?

Dick heard that voice play inside his head and felt hope within the darkness. He had to keep hold of it, remember all the steps to what he was doing. Maybe he wouldn't need to break out of here after all. Just keep looking forward to parole whilst Bruce helped him. It was good to have connections like that.

Bruce, it's….listen, my voice it doesn't sound like mine but it's Dick. I'm in somebody else's body. I'm -

To my knowledge, Richard Grayson died early this morning. I'm not sure how I'm communicating with you, wouldn't you prefer to talk face to face, it would certainly be easier for me.

Sorry, to disappoint, but I'm in Arkham right now. Pretty hard for an escape.

In that case, hold tight. I don't belie-

Just wait a moment, I'll see if there's something that, Dick focused his attention of a couple of more intimate moments that he and Bruce had had over the past. He didn't know whether he had just left the man in silence or whether Bruce was actually able to read what was going on but he had to at least want for these images to play in Bruce's head.

How are you doing that? How are you control- I'll come down. I don't think there's a way of getting you out and into a warm bed but I'll come down and see if there's anything I can do. Hold tight, okay?

…..

…

Bruce had been staring at the documents in shock as he sat opposite Gordon in the police station. He didn't know what to say because the evidence seemed to be there. Dick had been burnt alive after failing a jump he would have made easily had he been concentrating. There was enough physical DNA and other samples to prove that the body was his and he had his Nightwing costume on. That might mean the way that Jim was looking at him was only justified.

"I've always had my suspi-" Jim Gordon said as he studied Bruce Wayne's jawbone. "I wouldn't have know-"

"Can we please keep the attention on Dick," Bruce said as he looked at the photos of the corpse and the outfit that Bruce felt he had put on him himself, the calling card for those needing somebody to stuff in a coffin. After thinking that he had lost Tim and the feelings that crippled him after Jason, Bruce needed to concentrate on how to honor the original Robin but more importantly how to honor Richard Grayson.

There was silence in the office and Bruce sighed.

"If you would like to arrest me then I ask that I find out the details of my ward's death before you stick me into the asylum. I know that you could gather the proof quite easily and if you want to then it should definitely be you bringing me in," Dick said and Gordon shook his head in response.

"There are select photos for my files only and as for the suit he was wearing, let's say that some cans of oil were near the body," Gordon commented before looking at the photos. "That piece of information will be between the two of us but as you know, we will have to keep certain things confidential which means we can't make too great a spectacle of.

"I know how to honor him," Bruce nodded, "And I am thankful for your continued support."

"So, Bruce Wayne has given me definitive proof that he is the Batman," Gordon said as he got to his feet and Bruce looked at him with a deep and heavy exhale. This hurt more than anyone could understand. His idea of the Robin came from Dick, from knowing he could achieve great things. They had known one another for years. It wasn't as if he were a bird that could be replaced. His life would never be able to be replaced and it made Bruce entirely sick of the vigilantism.

"And it's with that proof that I am asking for you to keep this private. If it comes out, I'm going to have to say that you didn't know anything," Bruce commented and then looked at him and Gordon smiled.

"I just had to say it once," he said and Bruce nodded. "Now, my lips are tightly sealed."

"Do you mind if I get some air?" Bruce asked in a hollow voice, "I need to think about how to appropriately take care of this and whether there may be some chance that Dick is exceptionally good at hide and seek these days," he said though he had had numerous people looking for him.

If Dick was alive, he most likely would have heard about it by now.

Bruce took a step out into the crowded street before hearing a rough and labored voice in his head. He looked around trying to locate the origin of the voice. Was somebody pointing some kind of device at him?

Bruce. Bruce. God damn it, if there's a way to get out of this Bruce would -

Bruce surveyed the area, trying to take in anyone who had a phone or other electronic device, he tried to see if anyone was looking in his direction but he came up empty. Was this some new criminal that he didn't know about?

Hello, who is this?

It was so weird talking to his own head like this but hopefully this person wasn't a genius or a criminal mastermind. Hopefully they were someone who had some powers but didn't know how to us—was somebody reading his mind. He had to clear his thoughts, had to get Dick out of his mind.

Bruce froze as the voice tried to tell him that it was Dick Grayson stuck in somebody else's body. If only that were true? But the person was trying to coax him down to Arkham. It sounded very fishy and then it happened. It was as if someone had taken his mind and turned it so it was facing a screen where there were memories from Dick's point of view that only the two of them knew about.

There were so many other possibilities for what this could mean but Bruce wanted to hope for the best. He wanted to see if there was a way of getting Dick out of Arkham if it was him, maybe creating a half-way home of some sort. He knew that he could vouch on Dick's behalf no matter who he was. Maybe this was a way he could give back to him and save yet another pretty little Robin.