Six hours later:
Alfred had deemed the concussion a mild one, and Dick had been asleep since that diagnosis three and a half hours ago. Bruce was where he usually ended up when Dick or Robin was injured: on a chair by Dick's bed. The man stared at the boy's face, attempting to find a way to explain his words and actions after bringing Dick home from police headquarters three days ago.
No matter how he phrased it, the attempt at an apology sounded stupid. How do you take back a comment that hurt someone so much that they ran away? How do you tell them that you hadn't meant it the way it had sounded?
That happens a lot.
The thought assaulted Bruce like a slap to the face. He realized that he often spoke without thinking about how others might interpret his words. Dick Grayson was not a younger Bruce Wayne, so it was ridiculous to assume that Dick would know exactly what Bruce 'meant' to say. Even Alfred had said it had sounded like Bruce was giving up on helping the teenager.
Dick stirred and slowly opened his eyes. He started to sit up but thought better of it when he felt the throbbing in his head increase. With a soft sigh, he lifted his right hand and began rubbing slow circles on his right temple.
"How long have you had that headache?" Bruce asked, keeping his voice quiet.
"Since I got my picture taken," Dick replied.
"On and off?"
"No."
Bruce narrowed his eyes. The headache was a continuous one, which was not normal for Dick. It had been three days.
"It gets worse when I remember things," the teen said with another sigh.
Bruce kept his mouth shut, deciding to let Dick take the lead instead of asking questions.
"Master Dick, I brought you some medicine."
Alfred entered the room carrying a small tray with a single pill. Bruce raised his eyebrows when he saw that it was a Bat-pill. The butler offered the tray to Dick, who grabbed the pill and swallowed it without asking for a drink. It was the wrong thing to do.
Dick's head exploded with pain. He bit his tongue to hold back the scream and grabbed his head with both hands. Bruce immediately pulled the boy's hands away so he wouldn't injure himself further, and Alfred pulled a different pill out of…somewhere…and shoved it down Dick's throat.
The sixteen-year-old instantly calmed down and his eyes slid closed.
"A sedative, sir," Alfred explained. "I don't know why I brought it with me, but I'm glad I did."
"The first one was just a pain pill, right?" Bruce asked, leaving out the 'bat'.
"Yes, Master Bruce."
"Hmmm," the younger man murmured. "The only other time he's had that reaction to that particular pill is when he…"
Bruce jumped to his feet, startling Alfred.
"Stay with him, I'll be right back."
"Of course, sir."
Bruce raced down the stairs, through the study, and into the Batcave. He went straight for the Well-Known Criminals drawer and began sifting through the files.
"Just as I thought – electricity!" Batman yelled triumphantly.
A few years ago, Robin had been hit with an extra-strength version of Joker's prank palm shocker. It had given him a large headache and Alfred had immediately given him a Bat-pill when they had arrived at the Batcave. The twelve-year-old had reacted then just as he had reacted today: screaming in pain and clutching his head.
Batman ran to the medical area and opened a cabinet. He grabbed the bottle labeled, "Shock Reversers" and sprinted to his pole. Thirty seconds later, Bruce was standing in Dick's room and handing the bottle to Alfred.
"We'll have to wait until he wakes up, sir. I cannot give him anything else until the sedative is out of his system."
Bruce nodded, returned to his usual chair, and sat down to wait. Seventy-two minutes later, his patience was rewarded. Dick repeated the waking up process, including beginning to rub his temple.
"I think I know what happened," Bruce stated softly as the teenager carefully forced himself to sit up.
"Mmmm," Dick replied noncommittedly.
Forging ahead, Bruce explained, "I don't know the exact details, but I figured out a few things. Somehow, for some inexplicable reason, you met up with Joker. He used some kind of powerful electronic device on you, making you compliant. Then he told you what to do and you did it. I'll get the exact details when I find him."
Bruce leaned back in the chair, looking very proud of himself. Batman, as usual, had figured it out.
"You're wrong."
Bruce raised an eyebrow, sat up, and said, "You told me you don't remember."
"That was before Harrisburg."
"Harrisburg?"
"It's a long story."
"I have nowhere else to be right now."
"I saw…this is going to sound either really weird or really stupid. And probably unbelievable to you."
"Try me."
"I saw the school photographer on the bus."
"Dick…"
The sixteen-year-old closed his mouth and shrugged his shoulders.
Bruce heaved a sigh then motioned for the boy to continue.
"He's not a school photographer, Bruce. I don't have all the details, and you'll find out why in just a minute, but I know why I did everything."
"Okay," Bruce said when Dick paused.
"The Mad Hatter."
Bruce almost laughed out loud. Robin had met the Mad Hatter exactly once; the boy knew nothing about that particular criminal.
"You have no…"
"Will you just hear me out? Please?"
"Fine, go ahead," Bruce answered with an impatient roll of his eyes.
"You probably think I don't know anything about that villain. I do know how to read, Bruce. I've been through most of the case files, even the ones from before I joined you. The Mad Hatter is unique, so he's memorable."
"I really…"
"Last chance to let me finish," Dick warned, a tinge of frustration outlining the words. "If you can't give me the chance to fully explain, I'll give up like you already have."
"Richard John Grayson, I have not given up!" Bruce retorted furiously.
"Then let me finish!" Dick exclaimed.
Bruce angrily folded his arms across his chest and curtly nodded his head.
"It all started on picture day. Something weird happened when he took my picture. It was like my mind got all foggy and then I couldn't remember anything. When I saw him on the bus in Harrisburg, everything came back. I don't know how he did it, but somehow he used the camera to hypnotize me. Bruce, I agreed to meet him at the museum at midnight! Why would I voluntarily agree to that?!"
The man opened his mouth to answer but immediately shut it when Dick raised an eyebrow.
"He was wearing a purple hat at the museum. I remember bright beams, and then my mind got all foggy again. It was like I had no thoughts of my own, I was just waiting for someone to tell me what to do. And he did, so I followed instructions. I followed instructions!
Remember that photographer that popped up in front of us on the steps at police headquarters? My mind got all foggy again and then the clouds just disappeared. I still couldn't remember anything, and I don't understand that part, but I did not do this on my own. I was hypnotized, Bruce!"
Bruce was staring at Dick incredulously. The boy was right, it was an unbelievable story. But he had to admit that it was also somewhat believable. Facts rushed through his mind: glazed eyes, the inability to remember what had happened, committing crimes – which was something that Bruce now realized he hadn't really believed. Dick Grayson was not a criminal, except when Robin had been drugged by a villain. But that hadn't been his fault. Being hypnotized by a villain did make sense, especially if it was the Mad Hatter. However, there was also a small chance that Dick was making up a story to try to get out of trouble.
Dick was scrutinizing his guardian's face, searching for some clue as to what the man was thinking.
"You don't believe me," he finally said. "That's fine, you're entitled to your own opinion, but at least now I know what to tell the police and, eventually, the judge."
Alfred suddenly entered the room.
"Master Bruce, there's a telephone call for you. Master Dick, please take this pill. It should work much better than the last one, considering your symptoms."
"My symptoms?" Dick asked as Bruce left the room to take the phone call.
"This is a shock reverser, young sir. Some kind of elect…"
"Lasers!" Dick exclaimed. "They were laser beams, Alfred!"
"Forgive me, Master Dick, but I'm afraid I don't know what you are talking about."
"It's a long story, but I've figured out that Mad Hatter hypnotized me. I didn't know how, but you just gave me an answer. Lasers use electricity, and you're giving me the anti-electricity pill!"
Meanwhile, Bruce was in his study, attempting to stay calm while talking to a reporter.
"No, he is here in Wayne Manor."
A pause, and then, "No, I do not – and never will – regret taking him in."
Another pause, and then angrily, "That's just rude, Charisse. I had hoped that a reporter with the Gazette would know better than to ask something like that, but apparently I was wrong! This conversation is over."
Bruce slammed down the phone and picked up the Batphone.
"Yes, Batman?"
"Dick Grayson is back in Wayne Manor, Commissioner. Did you check out the story from the alleged eyewitness? Bruce Wayne told me about the old man."
"We tried to, Batman, but the old man has disappeared. Without him, there is no evidence of any drug purchase or possession. Dick was not tested for drugs here, a grievous oversight that will be discussed with several of my men. Did Dick tell you anything when you brought him back?"
"He told me…" Batman paused and shook his head – the commissioner was going to think he was being ridiculous.
"Batman?"
"He told me that he thinks he was hypnotized by the Mad Hatter."
"That makes complete sense!" Commissioner Gordon immediately exclaimed.
"It…does?"
"Yes, of course! Dick Grayson is an honest lad. He has never been involved in any kind of criminal behavior, and I have never for a moment believed that this was something he did on his own! I wasn't sure if it was blackmail or coercion or something else entirely, but I have no doubt that he is telling the truth."
Dick Grayson is an honest lad.
The commissioner's statement echoed in Batman's mind and a solid, lead ball of guilt slammed into his chest. Bruce had accused and assumed, but both Alfred and the commissioner hadn't even considered the idea that Dick could commit these crimes without some kind of nefarious villain in the background.
"Batman?"
"Thank you, Commissioner. If you'll excuse me, I have a villain to catch."
"Of course, Batman, of course. Good luck."
Bruce replaced the Batphone and sprinted back to Dick's room.
Honest lad.
"I'm sorry!" he burst out as he strode through the door.
Both Alfred and Dick were startled by the sudden entrance and the unusual words.
"I believe you, chum. I should have believed you from the beginning. Like you said, you have never given me any reason to believe that you would do something like this. I'm going to find Mad Hatter and we are going to straighten this out."
"We?" Dick asked softly.
Bruce ran a hand through his hair and sighed.
"Dick, when I said that there was no 'us' I didn't mean it like you took it."
"Oh, so it's my fault."
"No, and now it's my turn to explain. I meant that Robin was grounded."
"Then why didn't you just say that?!"
"I don't know," the man admitted with another sigh. "You said something about 'us' and it just popped out. I…sometimes I word things the wrong way."
"Sometimes?" Dick inquired with a smirk.
"Yes, sometimes," Bruce replied defensively. "I'll work on that."
The teenager burst out laughing, but quickly quieted down when he saw the look of chagrin on the man's face.
"And I'll work on trying to understand what you mean instead of listening to what you say," he said solemnly, although he couldn't completely erase the grin on his face.
"Don't be a smart aleck," the man responded grumpily.
The grin widened, and the expression finally made Bruce chuckle.
"I'm ready to go find the Mad Hatter," Dick commented.
"Absolutely not," Bruce said firmly. "You are recovering from something he did to you, and I'm not putting you in a situation where it could happen again."
"But…"
"No. I will have Alfred give you a sedative if that's what it takes," Batman threatened.
"Then you better do it tonight," Robin warned, "because Alfred already cleared me to go on patrol tomorrow."
Batman glanced around the room and the absence of the butler finally registered in his mind. With a frown, he turned around and left Dick's room.
"ALFRED!" he yelled, frustration filling the single word.