The first thought that hurtled through Dick's scrambled mind as he stepped back was that of his inner child."He's abandoning me. My Daddy is abandoning me." He thought. It was a thought too troublesome to bear. he barely heard Bruce continue:

"It won't be forever. I just want you to stay there until you're healthy again. Alfred and I will be by every day to visit you and make sure you're doing okay."

His voice was smaller than he anticipated it to be. "You're leaving me?"

Bruce's eyes were glued to the boy, and saw hurt carved into his eyes. He got up and put his hands on Dick's shoulders, as if trying to anchor him in reality.

"No, Dickie. I'm not going anywhere. I just want to keep you safe, okay?" He said, meeting the boy's eye level. The look in Bruce's eyes was sincere and true, but that didn't stop the voice in his head from thinking "He's abandoning me.". He nodded mutely, still in too much shock to do anything else.

"I'll take you in two days." Bruce declared, somberly.

Dick nodded, feeling more out of control at that moment than he ever had in his entire life.

The two days passed quickly as he packed his things. His civilian clothes, pictures of his family, and his old stuffed elephant, Zitka, were among the things he'd packed. He passed the days feeling numb, and yet felt a sense of dread that only manifested itself in his stomach. He'd hardly eaten, and hardly spoken a word since he'd found out. He spent his days quietly sitting in his father's lap. A vague voice told him that this would be the last time he saw his father in a while, so he should make the most of the time he had with him before it was over. This slightly disturbed Bruce, who hadn't seen Dick so clingy since his parents had died. He passed it off as nothing, knowing how much this change was going to affect Dick's life. It didn't bother him in the slightest that Dick wanted to be close to him- in fact he got a secret satisfaction from it. It felt like he was getting in the years he missed when Dick was a small boy. The night before he left, Bruce let Dick sleep in his bed for the first time since he was nine years old. He knew he needed the comfort of having his son close to him, Just as he knew Dick needed to be close to him.

Finally, the day had arrived. Alfred had made all of Dick's favorites for breakfast that morning, and the tiny Bat Clan sat and ate in silence. Dick stared at the food with glassy, unfocused eyes. It took Bruce's constant urging and encouragement for him to eat most of his plate. He wasn't hungry. He pushed the plate away, and went outside as Alfred loaded his trunk into the Limousine.

It was time to go. With a sad sigh, Dick looked at his childhood home with a longing face. He would miss the place more than words could say. Bruce placed a hand on his son's shoulder and guided him toward the limo and getting him settled before climbing into the back seat with him. The drive was hauntingly silent. Bruce looked over at him periodically, worried sick. Whenever Dick was nervous he was quiet, but never in all his days had he heard the car so deathly silent. Still, the ride strung on, until they had finally arrived. They pulled up to a large, grey, brick building. The black iron gate not far behind them read "Gotham City Mental Health Institution". It sent a chill up Dick's spine, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to run away from the place, screaming. Bruce took his hand, and he held onto it like a life preserver. The front door of the institution was victorian-style, making it look like even more of a prison. The dark mahogany wood was opeened for them, and Dick timidly stepped inside.

His first thought on enetering the place was that he was in purgatory. It was white everywhere. Glowing, obtrusive, shiny white. The workers there wore white uniforms, making them look like floating heads as the walked through the halls. Dick gripped his father's arm tightly. As a sixteen year old- and a superhero, no less, there were few things that frightened him. This place, however, was pure terror. It might as well have said "Welcome to Hell" on the front door. Bruce too found the place a bit unnerving, but kept his face expressionless. A brown haired woman greeted them and gave Bruce paperwork to fill out. A nice woman with blonde locks and too-white teeth showed Dick to his room. For once he wished he was a child so it would be acceptable to hide behind his father, but he wasn't, so he went with her.

The room was all white, just like the rest of the place. He had pictured a padded cell, like the ones they put Joker or Riddler in. This was disturbingly similar to what he'd pictured- minus the padding, that is. He felt that he might cry- It was a prison. Then suddenly Bruce was behind him, and he could breathe again.

"Okay, Dick. I've got to go now- I have a meeting in an hour." he said, bending down to his son. Even though he didn't have to, it somehow felt like the right thing to do.

Dick felt his eyes well up as he hugged his father. "Daddy, please don't leave me here." He knew he was one small thing away from breaking.

Bruce lifted Dick's chin so that their eyes would meet. "You'll be okay, Dickie. You're a fighter." He planted a soft kiss to his child's forehead, then turned to meet Alfred in the hall. "I love you, son." he said, looking at the boy one last time.

Dick watched Bruce leave the room, hurt beyond all belief. He began to cry and struggle as the nurses tried to calm him down. The thought "Daddy's gone. Daddy left. He's not coming back." echoed around his head like a church bell.

It was at that moment, that the grasp he had on his sanity disappeared, and there was only black left.