When Nightmares Come Part 5
Dick calmly sat in the paisley chair in Dr. Thaggan's office. His hand traced the patterns on the chair. His mood was somber, but calm. He had been calmer in the last week. He had been eating the food they had given him, he wasn't causing any more problems for his doctors. The doctor's wanted to help him. The staff wanted to help him. He knew that now. It was the medications. They were working. He had a chemical imbalance, Dr. Thaggan told him that. Explained to him that the medications were helping him become "regulated".
And the hypnosis. That helped too. Helped him relive the abuse Bruce had inflicted on him. He could admit it in hypnosis. Dr. Thaggan had explained to him that he couldn't admit it outside hypnosis because it was "too painful". Dick accepted it as reality. Bruce abused him. He wasn't Nightwing, Bruce wasn't Batman. They didn't exist. It was all in his mind.
Wasn't it?
But the memories seemed so real. More real than the memories of the abuse. Memories of swinging over Gotham, side by side with Bruce, were ingrained in his mind. Pictures. He could see pictures. The abuse he couldn't see. It was words. Was that his way of protecting himself? That's what his doctor told him.
"How are we today Dick?" Dr. Thaggan asked as he entered his office and moved around to sit at his desk. He opened Dick's file and started writing.
"Better."
"Good. I think the medicines are helping you," Thaggan replied.
"Yes, they are," Dick replied. His speech was still slightly slurred, his tongue still swollen. Side effects of the medicines he was taking.
"Do you think you're ready to have Mr. Wayne join us n your therapy sessions?"
"NO!" Dick replied sharply. "I. Don't. Want. To. See. Him."
"You are going to have to face your demons Dick. You have to purge your demons."
"Purge. Yes."
"Let's try a little hypnosis shall we."
"Yes."
***********************************************************************
Sitting alone in his cell, he heard voices. Not the voices of other prisoners or rather, patients, for he was still isolated on his floor. Dr. Thaggan told him Bruce had requested he be isolated. No the voices he heard were in his head. Weren't they? He didn't tell his doctor he was hearing voices. He was afraid it would be seen as a set back.
Dick didn't want any setbacks. The doctor said that if he continued getting better he could have day passes into Gotham. He wanted to go into Gotham. He wanted to see people.
No one had visited him since he was here. No one but Bruce. And he didn't enjoy Bruce's visits.
The voices he heard brought him out of his thoughts. He didn't like the voices -- well one voice -- it was Bruce's voice. He didn't like it. It talked about the things Bruce had done to him. Always describing in graphic detail what they had done for eight years.
Dick didn't like that. How could Bruce think he'd like that? Why did he do that? Did he do that? What was real? Dick didn't now what was real. He knew what his doctor told him was real. He had to believe it too, so he could get his day pass.
Dick was so tied of being in this cell. He wanted to get out. He wanted to be free. To see the sun. To fly.
To fly? He couldn't fly. What was he thinking? Fly? He did fly -- once -- with his parents. He was a Flying Grayson. But that ended when he was eight. Then he went to live with Bruce where he flew as ... NO! He wasn't ... hadn't been ...
Why? Why didn't he understand? Why couldn't his mind just have ONE set of memories rather than two? Why did his memories conflict with each other? Why did one seem more real than the other?
Bruce. It was Bruce's fault. Dr. Thaggan told him it was Bruce's fault. He had to purge his demons. Bruce was the demon. Wasn't he?
***********************************************************************
Dr. Thaggan smiled at Dick. "You have improved so much in the past month. You are making good progress."
"Thanks Doc," Dick replied with a smile. He was smiling. How long had it been since he had smiled? He didn't remember.
"We're going to allow you to go home for the day today. Do you remember?"
"Yes. I ... I want to go home."
"I know you do. Now remember Dick, you can only go to Wayne Manor. You cannot leave there without the orderlies. But you can spend the day there."
"It's Saturday, so Bruce will be there."
"Yes, he will be there. You need to talk with him about your past."
"Yes," Dick nodded, "I remember. I know what I have to do."
"Good. You've done so well. You had a rocky start, but I'm glad to see you made it this far." Dr. Thaggan handed Dick a paper bag. "You'll need this when you go home."
Dick opened the bag and looked inside it. His brow crinkled as he saw the object. Yes, he did need it. He had to talk to Bruce. He looked at his doctor and smiled slightly. "I'm ready."
Dr. Thaggan smiled back at him, "You're a good boy Dick. I know you know what you need to do. And once you do confront your father, you will start getting better. Healing. And that's what you want to do."
***********************************************************************
Dick stepped out of the car in front of Wayne Manor. The orderlies from the hospital sped away leaving him to stand and look up at the great manor. He smiled. Then he frowned. His emotions were conflicting, his stomach was in knots. Taking a deep breath, he started up the steps, his hand securely grasping the paper bag.
Dick used his key to enter the Manor. He looked around. It was familiar, and yet, different. It wasn't the same house he grew up in. The earthquake had destroyed that house. This house was new. It was purged of the bad memories. All his bad memories... all but one... Bruce remained.
Dick turned and started toward the study. He stood at the door, nervous about entering. He heard Bruce on the phone. He waited outside of the door until he heard Bruce hang up the phone. Tentatively, he turned the knob and opened the door.
Inside the study, Bruce looked up at the door. Alfred had just left for town, he shouldn't be back so soon. Bruce's eyes grew wide when he saw Dick enter the room. Bruce stood from behind his desk, "Dick? Is that you?" Bruce started around the desk.
Dick shrugged his shoulders as he gripped his bag. "Yeah, it's me. They let me out for the day."
"They? Dick where --"
"I have to purge my demons Bruce. You ... you're my demon," Dick said flatly. His voice devoid of emotion.
"What are you talking about Dick?" Bruce asked, confused.
Dick's hand went into the bag. Taking a deep breath, Dick pulled the gun from the bag and pointed it at Bruce. "You know what I'm talking about!"
Bruce felt his breath catch in his throat. A gun. Dick was pointing a gun at him. Why? He was frozen in place. He didn't know what to do. This was a situation he had never planned for. Finding his voice, he simply asked, "Dick?"
"You HURT me! Abused me! And you thought I LIKED it. How could you do that to me? Because of you ..." Dick said as he waved the gun in his shaky hand, " Because of you, I'm in Arkham. Because of you."
Bruce saw the tears start to fall from the young man's eyes. Arkham? What was he talking about? Abuse? Bruce was confused. Obviously Dick was confused. Something was wrong, very wrong. He had to do something. But the space between Dick and he was too great for him to act. So he talked. "Dick, son, I have no idea what you're talking about. Put the gun down and we'll talk about this."
"Talk! For the last month and a half all I've done is TALK! I have to purge you from my system. From my LIFE. From life. That's what the Doc told me."
"Doc? Dick! What are you doing? What are you talking about? Put the gun down. You KNOW they are not allowed in this house." Bruce said forcefully. Dick was under someone's control. Some kind of mind control. This wasn't Dick.
"I have to get better," Dick cried. "Why ... why did you ... to me?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about Dick. I --"
Dick unlocked the safety as he aimed the gun at Bruce. His blue eyes becoming hard.
Bruce knew that look. He had seen it many times. "Dick! Richard! Don't do this!"
"I have to," Dick cried as he steadied his aim.
"Nightwing! Don't! Robin!" he growled in The Voice as he saw Dick's finger starting to squeeze the trigger.
BANG!
To be continued ....
Dick calmly sat in the paisley chair in Dr. Thaggan's office. His hand traced the patterns on the chair. His mood was somber, but calm. He had been calmer in the last week. He had been eating the food they had given him, he wasn't causing any more problems for his doctors. The doctor's wanted to help him. The staff wanted to help him. He knew that now. It was the medications. They were working. He had a chemical imbalance, Dr. Thaggan told him that. Explained to him that the medications were helping him become "regulated".
And the hypnosis. That helped too. Helped him relive the abuse Bruce had inflicted on him. He could admit it in hypnosis. Dr. Thaggan had explained to him that he couldn't admit it outside hypnosis because it was "too painful". Dick accepted it as reality. Bruce abused him. He wasn't Nightwing, Bruce wasn't Batman. They didn't exist. It was all in his mind.
Wasn't it?
But the memories seemed so real. More real than the memories of the abuse. Memories of swinging over Gotham, side by side with Bruce, were ingrained in his mind. Pictures. He could see pictures. The abuse he couldn't see. It was words. Was that his way of protecting himself? That's what his doctor told him.
"How are we today Dick?" Dr. Thaggan asked as he entered his office and moved around to sit at his desk. He opened Dick's file and started writing.
"Better."
"Good. I think the medicines are helping you," Thaggan replied.
"Yes, they are," Dick replied. His speech was still slightly slurred, his tongue still swollen. Side effects of the medicines he was taking.
"Do you think you're ready to have Mr. Wayne join us n your therapy sessions?"
"NO!" Dick replied sharply. "I. Don't. Want. To. See. Him."
"You are going to have to face your demons Dick. You have to purge your demons."
"Purge. Yes."
"Let's try a little hypnosis shall we."
"Yes."
***********************************************************************
Sitting alone in his cell, he heard voices. Not the voices of other prisoners or rather, patients, for he was still isolated on his floor. Dr. Thaggan told him Bruce had requested he be isolated. No the voices he heard were in his head. Weren't they? He didn't tell his doctor he was hearing voices. He was afraid it would be seen as a set back.
Dick didn't want any setbacks. The doctor said that if he continued getting better he could have day passes into Gotham. He wanted to go into Gotham. He wanted to see people.
No one had visited him since he was here. No one but Bruce. And he didn't enjoy Bruce's visits.
The voices he heard brought him out of his thoughts. He didn't like the voices -- well one voice -- it was Bruce's voice. He didn't like it. It talked about the things Bruce had done to him. Always describing in graphic detail what they had done for eight years.
Dick didn't like that. How could Bruce think he'd like that? Why did he do that? Did he do that? What was real? Dick didn't now what was real. He knew what his doctor told him was real. He had to believe it too, so he could get his day pass.
Dick was so tied of being in this cell. He wanted to get out. He wanted to be free. To see the sun. To fly.
To fly? He couldn't fly. What was he thinking? Fly? He did fly -- once -- with his parents. He was a Flying Grayson. But that ended when he was eight. Then he went to live with Bruce where he flew as ... NO! He wasn't ... hadn't been ...
Why? Why didn't he understand? Why couldn't his mind just have ONE set of memories rather than two? Why did his memories conflict with each other? Why did one seem more real than the other?
Bruce. It was Bruce's fault. Dr. Thaggan told him it was Bruce's fault. He had to purge his demons. Bruce was the demon. Wasn't he?
***********************************************************************
Dr. Thaggan smiled at Dick. "You have improved so much in the past month. You are making good progress."
"Thanks Doc," Dick replied with a smile. He was smiling. How long had it been since he had smiled? He didn't remember.
"We're going to allow you to go home for the day today. Do you remember?"
"Yes. I ... I want to go home."
"I know you do. Now remember Dick, you can only go to Wayne Manor. You cannot leave there without the orderlies. But you can spend the day there."
"It's Saturday, so Bruce will be there."
"Yes, he will be there. You need to talk with him about your past."
"Yes," Dick nodded, "I remember. I know what I have to do."
"Good. You've done so well. You had a rocky start, but I'm glad to see you made it this far." Dr. Thaggan handed Dick a paper bag. "You'll need this when you go home."
Dick opened the bag and looked inside it. His brow crinkled as he saw the object. Yes, he did need it. He had to talk to Bruce. He looked at his doctor and smiled slightly. "I'm ready."
Dr. Thaggan smiled back at him, "You're a good boy Dick. I know you know what you need to do. And once you do confront your father, you will start getting better. Healing. And that's what you want to do."
***********************************************************************
Dick stepped out of the car in front of Wayne Manor. The orderlies from the hospital sped away leaving him to stand and look up at the great manor. He smiled. Then he frowned. His emotions were conflicting, his stomach was in knots. Taking a deep breath, he started up the steps, his hand securely grasping the paper bag.
Dick used his key to enter the Manor. He looked around. It was familiar, and yet, different. It wasn't the same house he grew up in. The earthquake had destroyed that house. This house was new. It was purged of the bad memories. All his bad memories... all but one... Bruce remained.
Dick turned and started toward the study. He stood at the door, nervous about entering. He heard Bruce on the phone. He waited outside of the door until he heard Bruce hang up the phone. Tentatively, he turned the knob and opened the door.
Inside the study, Bruce looked up at the door. Alfred had just left for town, he shouldn't be back so soon. Bruce's eyes grew wide when he saw Dick enter the room. Bruce stood from behind his desk, "Dick? Is that you?" Bruce started around the desk.
Dick shrugged his shoulders as he gripped his bag. "Yeah, it's me. They let me out for the day."
"They? Dick where --"
"I have to purge my demons Bruce. You ... you're my demon," Dick said flatly. His voice devoid of emotion.
"What are you talking about Dick?" Bruce asked, confused.
Dick's hand went into the bag. Taking a deep breath, Dick pulled the gun from the bag and pointed it at Bruce. "You know what I'm talking about!"
Bruce felt his breath catch in his throat. A gun. Dick was pointing a gun at him. Why? He was frozen in place. He didn't know what to do. This was a situation he had never planned for. Finding his voice, he simply asked, "Dick?"
"You HURT me! Abused me! And you thought I LIKED it. How could you do that to me? Because of you ..." Dick said as he waved the gun in his shaky hand, " Because of you, I'm in Arkham. Because of you."
Bruce saw the tears start to fall from the young man's eyes. Arkham? What was he talking about? Abuse? Bruce was confused. Obviously Dick was confused. Something was wrong, very wrong. He had to do something. But the space between Dick and he was too great for him to act. So he talked. "Dick, son, I have no idea what you're talking about. Put the gun down and we'll talk about this."
"Talk! For the last month and a half all I've done is TALK! I have to purge you from my system. From my LIFE. From life. That's what the Doc told me."
"Doc? Dick! What are you doing? What are you talking about? Put the gun down. You KNOW they are not allowed in this house." Bruce said forcefully. Dick was under someone's control. Some kind of mind control. This wasn't Dick.
"I have to get better," Dick cried. "Why ... why did you ... to me?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about Dick. I --"
Dick unlocked the safety as he aimed the gun at Bruce. His blue eyes becoming hard.
Bruce knew that look. He had seen it many times. "Dick! Richard! Don't do this!"
"I have to," Dick cried as he steadied his aim.
"Nightwing! Don't! Robin!" he growled in The Voice as he saw Dick's finger starting to squeeze the trigger.
BANG!
To be continued ....