krikanalo: Not to fear! More will come! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Bruce hurried through the corridor of the Gotham City Mental Institution, stopping only to meet Alfred outside the door.
"How is he, Alfred?" Bruce asked in a rush.
"See for yourself, sir." said Alfred with depressed eyes.
Bruce went straight to the bed where his son was laying. He was staring straight ahead, pulling at the restraints that had once again been placed upon his wrists. He could hear his son murmuring to himself, over and over again.
"I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy..."
What tore his heart in half were the four red marks above and below his eyes. He went over and placed a hand on his son's head. Dick jerked away, frightened, then relaxed when he saw it was only his father.
"Hi, Dickie." He said quietly.
"The voice wouldn't stop. It said that I h-had to..." Dick shut his eyes and stopped talking as tears went streaming down his face. Despite the protests of an on-duty nurse, (Whom Bruce shot the dirtiest glare in his arsenal) Bruce undid the restraints around his Son's wrists. He was heartbroken to see that his son had struggled so hard against the restraints that his wrists were bleeding. Dick stuck his thumb into his mouth and wept into his father's shirt.
"What did the voice tell you, Dick?" Bruce asked, continually stroking his son's hair.
"T-To kill myself..." He said. Bruce instantly felt that he left something out.
"Dick, what else did the voice tell you?" He asked, searching his son's eyes.
"To... T-To..." And suddenly he was crying too hard to respond. With silent communication, Bruce understood.
The voice had told Dick to kill him.
It was time for Batman to investigate.
"Is there a time when the voices get really loud?" He asked.
"At bedtime, and during the night they don't stop. In the morning, too." He said.
Bruce held onto his child, as if trying to protect him from everything that could hurt him. His eyes landed on Dick's pillow, and he lifted it up. It felt... heavy.
Too Heavy.
He ripped the case off and looked at the pillow. It had a zipper on one side. He slid it open and felt inside.
aha!
He felt some cold metal inside and pulled out an old-fashioned tape recorder. It was shiny black with large buttons, and something small with a circular shape. He was about to take it apart when the tape started without warning.
'Damn it! A motion sensor!' Thought Bruce as he quickly tried to push the stop button. But it was no use- the button was broken. He went to rip the tape out, but the eject button was disabled.
The tape began to play.
The only thing Bruce heard was a high-pitched whine, which he knew was easily blocked out at night by the sound of washing machines.
But to Dick it was something completely different.
He felt the room begin to shrink until he felt suffocated. The voices were back and screaming.
You're worthless
Your Father is abandoning you
The food here is poisoned, don't eat it
Go Work for Slade
Kill your father, he deserves to die
He never loved you, you were just a pawn in his little game
Go kill yourself you fat piece of crap.
He clamped his hands over his ears and started to cry, curled up into a ball and propped himself up against the wall.
"No... no, I don't want to..." He said, shaking, before he started to shriek. Bruce wanted so badly to go over and just hold his baby, but he didn't know how his son would react. He could do nothing but watch his son be tormented. He wanted to smash the tape recorder, but he needed to analyze it.
The nurses came swarming in, and Dick was sedated. Bruce kissed his son on the forehead, wishing he could take every bit of pain from his son and inflict it on himself.
But for now, analyzing the tape would have to do.
He had Alfred stay in case Dick wanted him, before heading out of the door.