Dick laid in his cot with his eyes closed attempting to fall asleep after his eventful day of treatment AND a "bath", but the constant playing of the tape made it difficult. The medications that he starred to take willingly made his head spin, they also didn't help in his efforts to fall sleep, however the side affects were preferable compared to the feeling of his body breaking down.

Dick tired to occupy his mind by attempting to count the number of days he had been trapped in this hellhole. He came to the conclusion that he had been here for one and a half months, maybe two.

Why haven't they come? With each passing day Dick's faith in his family dwindled. Dread and fear stirred within him.

He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on, they were beating him down, physically and mentally. No matter how many electroshock session he had experienced the pain was still unbearable, with each treatment it damaged his mind. Dick's focus was lacking and he found his mind wandering off, as if it was trying to disconnect itself from this horrible place. Dick shifted in his bed trying to get more comfortable, his body screamed in protest. He couldn't remember the last time when he wasn't in pain, even if the Doctor said the pain is artificial, all in his head. The constant meetings with Owen and Clive left Dick bloody and bruised; if Dick ever saw a bathtub again it would be too soon. His wrist and ankles are never given a chance to heal from the restraints, he was constantly hungry, he was robbed of his hair and on top of it all his head never stopped pounding. Self-pity won't help you now Richard.

He shifted his attention towards tuning out the world around him; he was getting better at it with each passing day. Dick was close to sleep when he was disturbed by a shift in his bed. I didn't hear my door open; I must be really out of it. Dick kept his eyes shut not wanting to greet his unwanted visitor sitting on his bed; they would bring more un-pleasantries to his day.

"Wake up Dickie."

Dick almost didn't respond to the name, until a thought crossed his mind. Dickie? Nobody here calls me Dickie. Dick cracked open his eyes to identify the person sitting on his bed. After his vision cleared his blood ran cold at who he saw.

"Jason?"

Sitting at the foot of his bed was his little brother Jason, emphasis on the little. Sitting in his prison cell was 12-year-old Jason clear as rain. Dick jaw dropped open as the colour from his face drained, how is this possible?

"Get out of bed Dick! You promised me that you would teach me how to ride my bike today!" Whined the young Jason.

Dick recalled back to when he was 15, he told Jason that he would teach him how to ride a bike so they could explore the woods by the Manor once he got the hang of it, but that happened years ago.

"J-J-Jason, what… what are you doing here?" better yet, HOW are you here!

"I'm here to tell you to get off your lazy butt and help me ride my bike," Jason scooted closer to Dick, but Dick consciously avoided making contact with his brother.

"B-b-but you can't be here y-y-you're Nine-teen years old, you ….you can't be real."

"Nine-teen! HA! I wish.," Jason brushed off the comment, but noticed the horror in his brothers face. "Don't be ridiculous Dick of course I'm real, stop talking crazy."

Dick was trembling in his bed, trying to process what was happening in front of him, too scared to move.

Jason let out a little sigh, "See I'll prove it to you."

Jason reached out his hand and moved it towards Dick face. Dick's heart was pounding, his eyes refused to break contact with Jason approaching hand.

When the small hand reached its destination Dick fully expected to have the hand pass through his flesh but instead Jason's hand was solid. The small hand pressed against Dick's pale face, transferring warmth and comfort into Dick. Dick lightly leaned into the touch absorbing every moment of physical contact.

A thought flashed through his mind, Jason it's real. Dick flinched away from the touch as if he was burnt, a heart retching sob fled from Dick's mouth.

"Dick what's wrong?" Jason's concerned green eyes studied his older brother. Dick was crying too hard to breathe properly, let alone to answer his imaginary brother.

"Dick's having a rough day Jason just let him rest." Dick snapped his head in the direction of the third voice in the room. Sitting in the corner was 15-year-old Tim contently colouring without a care in the world. "Come colour with me instead and let him sleep."

Jason gave one last look over at his sobbing brother before shrugging off the bed and joining Tim in the corner to colour. Dick ogled at his two brothers in the corner not believing his eyes, this whole situation was impossible, I truly am insane.

Dick laid strapped to the ECT table in a daze. The rest of Dick's night had be a blur, members of his family would appear and disappear without notice, sometimes attempting to talk to him or they would just completely ignore his existence. At the moment Dick was trying to ignore the nine-year-old Damian leaning next to the door sharpening a sword.

A few moments passed before Dr. Grove strolled into the room.

"Since you were resistant to talk during your session we might have to increase your voltage Richard."

The man got no response from Dick and he let out a soft sigh. "Alight Richard as always, please repeat after me "My name is –""

Dick was all to quick and cut off the older man "My name is Richard Grayson…. I killed 9 men, and I went insane." Tears ran down Dick's face as he caught his breath. "I created a family in my head….. Bruce Wayne isn't my adoptive father, Jason ….isn't real, Timothy isn't real, ….Damian isn't real," Dick looked desperately into the Doctor's eyes, "none of it is real."