Self
A.N.: I'll admit that I'm in a bit of a rut for Tooth and Claw, so I'll add another chapter to this to keep myself busy. Don't get used to it, now!
I'm also working on The Sane in the Asylum and a new story called The Silent Hear the Loudest Screams, which is a RWBY fanfic. You'll see those pretty soon. I've also gotten a FaceBook page, which you can find by searching my pen name. Enjoy!
"The-there's no way," he concluded, running a trembling hand through his hair. "I-I'm not, I can'tbe…"
He sank his head into his hands, clutching his raven locks. He could feel his heart pounding and his lungs burning as they inflated and deflated, each breath more ragged and rapid than the last. IT WASN'T REAL!
Hands roughly grabbed his shoulders and turned him in his seat. Bruce fixed him with a steel glare.
"Breathe. Slowly." He drew out each word as he growled them, his eyes never leaving Dick's. The boy matched his father's slow, deliberate breaths on instinct, the stern glare grounding him, pulling him back from shock. Bruce maintained eye contact, continuing to draw his speech.
"We don't know for sure if that really was you that fell out of the window," he glanced down to the boy's arm. "Pull up your sleeve; I'm going to take a blood test." Dick obeyed, wincing slightly as the needle pricked his skin.
"Do you know when this might've started?" asked the elder, trying uncharacteristically to keep the conversation going. There wasn't an answer.
Bruce glanced up, and found his former ward staring blankly into space. He snapped a finger nest to the boy's ear, making him jump back to attention.
"Did you hear what I said?" Dick nodded.
"No, I have no idea how it could've started," he lazily replied.
His breath hitched as the needle was drawn out.
"Go to bed," the older man commanded. "You need the rest. Let me know if you remember anything else."
Dick nodded as he indolently got up from the seat, shoving his hands into his pockets. His footsteps bounced around the cave's walls as he left.
The halls of the mansion were empty, for which Dick was eternally grateful. It meant no one could see the way he kept clenching his fists so that the tendons glided across his now white knuckles or the way he drew his breath through his teeth. Apparently, even Batman could only do so much to aid shock.
By the time he got to his room, the shock had given way to something else. Something that burned and twisted in his gut and fought its way into his throat.
With the loud crash of the nightstand Dick had impulsively tipped over, it found its way out.
Not satisfied, he grabbed a small clay pot – a former art project – from the floor and chucked it at the opposite wall. When it only succeeded to put a large, ragged dent in the wall, he picked it up again and sent it into a picture frame. And then through his window.
His feet carried with a few backwards steps before he flopped onto his bed, his fury-induced energy spent.
"I'm not a werewolf. I'm not a werewolf. I am not a werewolf," he told himself on a mantra as he lay there, perpendicular to the bed with his legs hanging off of the edge. His voice caught on the last word, as if just saying it aloud was belief enough to make it true.
He somehow failed to convince himself with his little pep talk.
He felt himself drift into a dreamless sleep.
When he woke again, it was to torture. A persistent thumping rang in his ears. Covering them helped, but not by much.
'It's not my heartbeat,' he told himself, still not convinced. 'It's probably just Alfred's footsteps.'
When he failed to return to the respite from before, he made his way downstairs to the living room, earbuds in hand.
The muted crackling of the fireplace did its part to calm his nerves, but it still didn't put him to sleep.
After twenty minutes, the grandfather clock slid open and Bruce stalked his way up. Another throbbing noise joined with Dick's own, prompting him to sit up.
At the sound of Dick's movement, Bruce turned to address the teenager.
"The computer didn't detect any known viruses, but when I took a look at your blood manually, I discovered a new kind of pathogen. I sent the results to Leslie; she's never seen anything like it before." Dick nodded in understanding.
"I reviewed the rest of the footage from the traffic camera. No one else in or out of your house, until that woman drove you home."
Dick could tell what he was doing. He was dancing around the word, trying to open the possibility of alternative answers by simply stating the facts, as well as keep him calm. He was trying, but it wasn't working.
"Yeah," his voice rasped. "Yeah," he repeated so Bruce could hear it, making his ears ring.
"Did you remember anything?" the man continued, sitting in the chair adjacent to Dick, who shook his head.
"No, but it doesn't matter." He cleared his throat. "My hearing's been escalating. And smell," he realized. "There's no explanation for that. It's official: I'm a werewolf." He all but hated himself just for saying the word.
"We can't-" Batman started to say, but Dick cut him off.
"What's your explanation, then?!" he screamed. "'cause I've got nothing! Absolutely nada!"
Silence stretched like an unstable bridge between them. Finally Dick sighed and got up.
"I'm going to back to bed." And he did.
A.N.: I don't particularly like this chapter, but it could be worse. Let me know if there are any scenes you'd like to see in Tooth and Claw, because I'm still in kind of a rut with the story, and I may have bitten off a little more than I can chew. Please note, however, that this origin story is in no way similar to that of Tooth and Claw. Thank you for your time, and GOD BLESS!