Title: Hi, My Name is Harvey Pt Deux
Author:
Brendan Storm
Rating:
PG
Disclaimers:
As usual the DC comics characters are owned and created by
another
and I am getting nothing but pleasure from this, but the created
character
and the idea are mine dang it, all mine
Warning: Yes I wrote my furry butt into the
story. Greeno got to.
Author's
Notes: This one's for Cyndi who
remembered the alley behind the
Eight
Ball a few months back.
"Concussion, bruised nose and a black
eye." Leslie smiled at the young man on
her examining table. "You need
observation for the next twenty four hours and no saving the world, but you
never did listen to me did you Dicky?"
"Dicky?" The fluorescent light glinted off of the lapin's mirrored eye
patch.
"Leslie, I'm hallucinating a talking
rabbit. That's not a normal
concussion."
"A white rabbit? Describe him."
Dick held Barbara's hand and lay
back. He thought about hallucinating
things, which was common with Crane. Talking white rabbits were indicative of Lewis Carrol and Tetch. He also thought about the situation this
afternoon with Amy and the handgun.
"As far as I can factually describe a
hallucination. Rabbit, white in color,
male, according to him he's six foot six. He's wearing a black t-shirt, forest camouflage pants, military issued
and an eye patch over the right eye. Looks like a nasty scar tracing over to the left ear."
"Psychiatrists could probably be able
to explain the details, but I'm at a loss," Leslie said.
"Explosion in ninety eight," Brendan
said quietly.
"Explosion?" Dick asked.
"Well yes that would be one
explanation." Leslie replied. "But why would you subconsciously create a scarred lapin anthropomorph?"
"We prefer furries."
"Whatever, why are you here?" Dick
asked exasperated.
You have to discover that for
yourself, Dicky." The rabbit smiled.
* * *
"Leslie," Babs asked once they were
outside the hospital room. "Is he ok?"
"Besides the concussion, you mean?
It's got a long name, but it boils down to that he's conjured himself a
"Harvey" which under normal circumstances means that the stress of working
three jobs and being in a new relationship has finally gotten to him."
"Normal circumstances?"
"Yes, dear. This means I haven't ruled out gas, telepathic attack or transmission
to his brain by invisible headband. I'm
afraid we have to do a little more research than normal when Dick is
concerned."
"Yes, he does run in those kinds of
circles. What can we do?"
"Unless he gets dangerous, it's best
to humor him. You do have a
psychiatrist friend who knows about his 'jobs?''
"Only one I could trust."
"Call him."
"Bruce is going to love this," Babs
sighed. "They hate going to the moon."
* * * *
Inside the room, Dick lay in bed
trying to block out the chatty rabbit.
"Come on, it's word association. That's all. You say something and I respond. You can prove I'm not a figment of your imagination. Come on, Dick, or should I say Nightwing, or
do you prefer WFB?" Dick put a pillow over his head. "Come on! Say something!"
"Sleep"
"Deprivation"
"Nap!"
"Kin!" Dick lay quiet. A stabbing pain shot between his eyes. It might lose interest and go away. "Hey, wake up over there, it's a concussion,
no losing consciousness."
"I don't have time for this."
"For what? Healing? Resting once in a while?"
"Wasting my time on a concussion. I have to be at the tower in two hours, and
then I have to train and tail a shipment of stolen goods on the wharf all
before work in the morning."
"Busy day planned. Better call em and tell em you won't be
there. You're going to get some rest if
I have to beat it into you."
"I am not. I have responsibilities, and you're a figment of my
imagination. You can not beat anything
into me." Dick stared defiantly at the
figment.
"I can point out that your beautiful,
delectable older girlfriend is very worried about you and is wondering if she
should book you a stay in the holiday inn side of Arkham." There was a knock at the door.
"Hey, hunk wonder, I have to make a
couple calls, before I get you out of here. You going to be ok?"
"Oh, sure, Contact Robin and tell him
about the heist tonight, hon? And um,
can we not mention this to Bruce just yet?"
"Tim's in lockdown at Brentwood, I'll
call Cass. And Bruce already
knows. We're taking a trip in a little
while."
"Where?"
"Watchtower."
"Awwww, not there. Why there?"
"Because J'onn wants to see you."
"J'onn? The Martian Manhunter? So
cool!" The rabbit gushed.
"Oh Crap," said Dick.