Within the Mind's Eye... (Nightwing)

[Deleted]

Given the fair amount of time that had passed since Bruce’s mentioning of some different methods to help Dick deal with the psychological treatment the Joker had put him through, Bruce had finally scheduled a time to meet up with his young protégé in an effort to help remedy the harsh psychotic scars the insane Clown Prince of Crime tried to inflict upon the young Nightwing. He was down in the bat-cave, having rigged up a device that dealt heavily in the ways of neuro-censors and electrolyte readouts… He had spoken to Dick of the teachings of Tibetan monks he had undergone himself during his 8 year absence while he studied abroad… now, given the breakthrough modern science and technology was coming up with—he was able to have Lucius Fox tweak some latest technology to meet his needs—which of course was re-worked once he got a hold of the newest gear.

He truly intended to help Dick overcome the terrifying fiasco with the Joker and he knew he could do so on a much more personal/private/effective/invasive method of help… He could use the given device for virtual reality computer input—a head and body piece of tech equipment that once worn it would enable the wearer of such a suit to be digitally implanted into the computer mainframe itself where actual software programming could occur from the foundation’s ground up. However, if such a device was tweaked in such a proper way—given all of the electrodes, neurons, and synapsis readings a human brain creates—the functionality proved to be not much different from the neural network of a computer mainframe—ergo, Bruce could tweak the device to access Dick’s brain, going through his mind and sectioning out the night of his beat down as given by the Joker to best help him deal with such a dark dilemma. He had tried it out once already—his unknowing test subject a fruit bat. No sides effects to be had, he was confident that his own newly improved method of deep psychosis therapy for Dick might prove to be most helpful.

“Dick,” He suddenly buzzed into the communicator chip in the bat-computer’s comm-link. “Come see me in the den.”

Of course, whenever Bruce mentioned the “den” the word acted as the secret passcode phrase that actually meant: the bat-cave.

[Dick Grayson - Nightwing]

It had been some time now. Dick was still not talking of the event that had taken place to break him down how it did. Still blocking it out and trying to move on. It was the best way he knew how to deal with it. The torture had been too personal and to dark for him to want to go through it so soon.

He was embarrassed and ashamed of how it had all gone down. The start to the finish had been a set up for disaster. The 'walking right into the trap' per say. And he had been unable to protect himself. He had been rendered helpless by the toxins he had been given at the time. Having to take every bit of torture. Though through out the torture he had only cried out in pain, but never begged for the Joker to have ended it there and then to end his suffering.

It have him shivers still thinking about that old bell tower. A place he did not wish to see again anytime soon. Dick had tried to move on past it. He tried to cope with it through his workouts and physical rehabilitation.

Dick had been healing slowly, but surely. He was still on crutches, but would often venture on without them at points on his left leg to get some weight on it. He had gotten better at working on getting around without the crutches. But that would be a call by Bruce and Alfred as far as if there was any type of physical damage done that could be worsened with him walking on it again. But for the short times he was on it. This were going well. The swelling and bruising of his foot had gone down greatly.

As for his wrist, he was now wearing a wrist guard. One step closer to freedom of no restrictions by ace wraps or gear to help stabilize the injuries.

At the time of the intercom going off, Dick had been in the library. He was still keeping to his studies at school. Though continuing his classes from online at this time. But he kept his word and keep up his school work. He was doing fairly well in his classes. Though stress was expected over some deadlines and exams, but he got the work done.

Dick had been just reading through on of the law books from a criminals case class, when he heard the intercom. He stopped and looked over at it at the rest of the words. Shutting the book he had been looking over, he eases his chair out a bit and grabbed the crutches.

Standing up, he began to crutch out of the study and head down to the 'den'. The journey was still quite something for him being in his condition. But he could manage. Once at one of the secret entrance ways. He got into one of the hidden elevators to the bat-cave.

It wasn't long before he was now in the bat-cave. "You wanted to seem me, Bruce," Dick stated as he crutched his way toward the main computer of the bat-cave. Truly, he was not exactly sure what Bruce had called him down for. He hadn't remember any appointments of anything to go over. But then again, Dick had kept busy with the physical therapy and his studies.

[Deleted]

During the time it took for Dick to make his way down into the depths of the high functioning and heavily equipped bat-cave, Bruce worked on setting up the virtual-reality console. Once the main computer was set to monitor and record all vital signs and neural network feeds, he readied two separate med-lab beds for both he and Dick to use as well as a mild sedative mixed with a few other ingredients to help obtain total recall in memory. Upon hearing Dick’s arrival to the cave through one of the many hidden entrances Bruce glanced up, blue eyes scanning the healing form of his original crime fighting partner.

A quick sweep was done through his short, thick jet black hair—save a few strands falling into his pale, chiseled, slightly unshaven face. It was clear Bruce hadn’t been getting much sleep lately, but that fact didn’t hinder the intensity such blue eyes and sharp features like his held. Clad in all black clothing, Bruce was in what he considered to be his “casual wear”—clothing that could be light weight enough to be worn beneath his bat-suit should he not have time to do a proper change.

Always prepared.

“I’ve been working on a side project these last few days; one that I think may help you recover a little faster physically and especially mentally.”

He lifted up before Dick what appeared to be some extremely high-tech looking headband complete with a shaded visor lens to cover one’s eyes when worn.

“Remember when I mentioned the techniques I studied with the Tibetan monks to help focus and achieve inner clarity by accessing total recall in memory? I created a way to help you process the events of that night between you and the Joker, step by step, by actually having you witness the memory as a third party viewer—and you wouldn’t be alone to deal with being exposed to something like that, I’d be able to experience that memory with you.”

He paused a moment to give Dick a second or two to grasp what he was explaining.

“These censors are able to place projections of ourselves into the memory bank of your mind and will allow us to view any events in your memory at full detail. Given the harsh times this city has fallen upon and the intensity of the brutality you survived… I think unlocking the memory of that night in the bell tower, dealing with it and processing it, will help to heal all of you.”

He stood before Dick now, watching the young man closely. Despite the positive response his body was having the recuperating process, Bruce could see that the boy of light hearted banter and charm was faded, becoming hidden beneath the darkness that now took precedence in his eyes. Joker would NOT claim Dick Grayson as another one of his psychologically tormented victims—not while he was around to stop the madness.

“What do you say? Want to give this idea a shot?”

[Dick Grayson - Nightwing]

Dick made his way over to Bruce. But he stopped short. Keeping his distance. And at his works. He wondered just what Bruce had been working on. He knew he'd get his answer soon enough. Through all the workouts they had been going through, he had a feeling that Bruce was eventually going to try and dig deeper to the root of the problems.

Lately Dick had become more withdraw to his activities with others more so than usual. Sure his studies were going well and the workouts as well, but there was just more and more of his behavior coming off as an act now a days. Dick did notice the lack of Bruce in the Manor. Which only meant one thing.

He looked at the man before him still strong and focused even without probably days of sleep. Unlike himself, Dick kept up on his sleep lately. But with sleep, only came the torment of the memories he had sealed away since that night. He was hardly dressed in impress. Going more causal as usual, but caring less and less how he looked. The injuries still bothering him to the point to stick with just loss t-shirts and either sweatpants or gym shorts. And that day he had gone with a pair of black sweats and a grey shirt.

He remained silent as Bruce held up this new device he had said to be working on. Giving a very slight nodded at recalling the day Bruce had brought up about what he had mentioned. His dull eyes watching the man as he spoke. There was no longer that spark of liveliness when they often worked together or even talked. Even with Barbara, that that little spark in his eyes were dying down. Yet he remained and continued on with the day to day interactions with everyone. Telling them not to worry. But he grew a bit more snappier over subjects and more likely to want to storm off when he felt like he was being attacked.

At Bruce's pause for the moment. He remained silent still. His dull gaze falling to look at the device as the time he had been speaking of recalling that night. It made his blood boil to even think about going back to look back at it. His mind wanting him to yell out in protest. Why in the world would he ever want to look at it from a third person view?!?!

Still he remained as silent as the cave around them. Only his own thoughts echoing through out his mind. But never speaking a word. He had become so withdrawn from the real world. Keeping up, but not living in it. Just merely there for the ride lately. Even Jason started to steer clear of the guy Dick seemed to becoming.

Finally, his darkened blue eyes met with Bruce's. No emotion to his face, but his piercing blue eyes staring back at the man. A glare coming to them. "Do you think I'm some kind of computer? To process my own torment?! Why don't you just ask me to jump of a building while I'm at it," Dick snapped back, breaking free from what had been holding him back all that time. The bottled up emotion showing. But the anger from the denial he had been going through. The torment of his own silent treatment to over come his trauma. This wasn't Dick. This was what he had become. He was finally breaking through that wall he had put up to protect himself from the memories. He had only been hurting himself through out this time. His smaller arguments and anger leading up to this. He had finally snapped. This was him acknowledging the fact that what had happened had happened and he had to deal with it. No more running and hiding from it like a criminal on the streets. He was being attacked in his mind. But in truth he was just being approached to help pull him through this.

Though the scars were deep and it was going to be painfully to have to go through this. The heat of his anger getting the best of him. His stubborn ways blocking him off. Wanting to close out any type of help at this point, wanting to deal with it on his own.

This wasn't Dick Grayson. This was something that was created by a combination of effects of Dick Grayson's way of handling this and the horrific manipulation and torment of the Joker. It was merely a cry for help. But no one said helping others in pain was easy.

"Do you really think I want that information out? For others to experience what I've gone through," Dick growled out. His voice hitting a bit lower in a darker tone. This was just something that needed to be ridden out at the moment. If Bruce knew what was best for the both of them, he'd let him rant and get it out of his system and not take everything too much to heart. This was just the anger and hatred that had been building up within Dick from the experience and the silence he had put himself through.

"You don't understand I've been to hell and back. And now your asking me to relive it and experience it again? To watch my own pain and suffering at the hands of the Joker?! For all I know that recording he has of the whole thing, he could be playing it in a theater for the other criminals to view while I've been off the streets," Dick opened up about the event being recorded. Something he hadn't said at all, just like he hadn't about every other thing that had happened that night. "You don't know how long I was there! You don't understand the mind games he put me through and the tactics of his torment. Or how hard it was to get out of there the way I did!" He stomped his left foot to the ground after he had been trying to keep off of it. His anger causing him to ignore any point. Dick moved the crutches away from under his arm and turned them a bit so they were no longer touching the ground. All within a few second he slammed them to the ground. The clatter of the crutches echoing through the cave. A few bats tussled at the loud sound that waved through the silent cave.

His darkened gaze still on Bruce's that seemed unchanged by his manor of action. Inside, Dick wanted to remain silent, he didn't want to act this way. But something was driving him to. "Am I some kind of test subject to another experiment," Dick yelled out. He still kept his distance from Bruce at this time. "Why don't you just test it on Jason? He seems like the perfect enough rat for the process."

"Hey...Here's an idea. Why don't we just got back to the bell tower and invite the Joker with us," Dick said sarcastically. This was not him at all. But just a wave of the trauma. They'd just have to ride through it. And Dick was just going to have to deal with it and let it out. He hadn't stopped ranting since Bruce had asked him the question. He wasn't giving him the chance.

"Do you really think I want anyone else to see what or go through what I went through," Dick ranted on. "I'm not some computer, Bruce. I can't just go through it again. Not after almost dying. What he did was not something to look back on. It's not some case to be looked into. What happened happened and I moved on. And getting me to want to bring it back and be there to watch it? Do you think I don't go through every day wondering why he didn't just finish me off when he had the chance? Wanting to leave me almost on the verge of madness?!"

"And now you're asking me to go through it again," Dick yelled out in anger as he took a stronger step forward with his left foot. But this time his foot wasn't as steady as it had been while he had been standing there. His mind not focusing on what he was doing as he came down that on step. His foot missing the small step down and causing him to lose his balance. Dick was able to catch himself on time with his arms first to protect himself from falling flat on his chest. He was now on the ground with his lower arms on the ground and his knees on the ground. He yelled out in pain and anger over the whole thing. His ribs aching with now being jarred so suddenly and the past injuries becoming a bit more sore again. But his focus wasn't on his pain.

As he was now on his knees and his lower arms, he slammed his left fist into the flooring angrily and his head dropped down to the ground as he pulled himself back to be less of kneeling on the ground and now sitting on his legs a bit so there was less weight on his arms and chest. But his head was down. Not wanting to look up toward Bruce. He was humiliated by this one false step and his pain coming through in his anger.

He was silent for a moment, not moving. He then leaned back a bit to bring his upper body more up right. He was still hanging his head, not wanting to look up at Bruce. He could only see his black shoe and the ground through the black shaggy hair that hung in his face. He tried to collect himself.

"I can't," Dick voice spoke once again, now in a bit of a shaky voice. The fall had rattle him a bit. He had been blinded by his own anger and this was what happened when blinded by rage. He had always been taught that. And he was learning the lesson harder. "I don't know if I can," Dick said. The anger was no longer gripping his tone. It was revealing the what he had been hiding. His fear. His pain. He had been suffering alone and only made it worse with his way of keeping away from others.

"I don't understand why. I know why he did it...But why this way," Dick started to say. "I don't want to go through it again...but I can't do this..." By this, he meant by denying it. Ignoring it any longer. It needed to be addressed. The sooner the better. He didn't have time. Time was not their friend. With time it was only making it harder. But he didn't want to go through it again alone. And he didn't want anyone else to go through it. He fell silent again, not looking up as he sat there on the floor. He had hit just about rock bottom at an early enough point that he was still able to be reached. He wasn't lost entirely. There was still hope of turning this around and building from it. He just needed that push.

[Deleted]

Though Bruce was no psychologist (if anything, he was far from it) he did understand the signs and symptoms of severe PTSD, Post Traumatic Shock Disorder. He also knew how detrimental such a condition could be on the daily activities of one’s life, and especially how dangerous such a disorder was when it came to performance in battle, namely his war on crime and injustice.

Dick had chosen to remain on his side and continue to fight in the war by taking on the mantle of Nightwing—so by donning such a title, Bruce had to be sure of Dick’s commitment to the cause, as well as be sure that Dick would be capable when faced with such dark situations in the future.

He couldn’t allow room for a mental breakdown or shut down during the heat of the battle and if Dick didn’t deal with his condition, then Bruce would have to ban him from participation as Nightwing on the field. The liability would simply be too great. And then of course… a deeper rooted part of Bruce wanted nothing more than to fix the young man he had raised for years as his own.

Dick was hurt because of the world Bruce introduced him to—essentially making Dick’s painful situation his own fault, he felt—so he had to fix Dick Grayson, the boy was still his responsibility. The words that suddenly left Dick were harsh but needed to come out; strangely enough this was something Bruce understood.

He was reminded of his own training when he was just a little older than Dick, before he had become the Batman. He too had used rage and anger as a way to fight back… But the only thing that got him out of his own “funk” was being pushed harder and being forced to deal with what he feared, being made to face the harsh reality of this cruel world.

Henri Ducard was such a mentor who taught him how to harness his anger, grief, and rage—channeling such emotions into something much more powerful, showing him how to become more than just a man to his opponents, showing him how to become a legend…

“Anger does not change the fact that your father failed to act!”
“The man had a gun!”
“Would that stop you?”
“I’ve had training!”
“Training is nothing! The will is everything! …The will to act!”

Harsh, potent words of the past during a particularly grueling training session with Henri flooded his mind—the will to act is everything. He watched Dick silently, letting the boy snap and release all that had been pent up until he seemed to physically wear himself out. With a stony look upon his sharp features, icy blue eyes met Dick’s own weary blue gaze as silence now spread before them.

The fluttering and squeaking of bats along with running water and the whir of the machines seemed to be deafening loud as the two men stared at one another.
Finally, Bruce spoke in a firm, dark, unwavering tone of voice that exuded authority and complete strength.

“You’re hurt, Dick. Hurt beyond the way a bandage or ointment can make you better. You’re unstable. The type of torture you went through should never have happened—not to you, not to anyone. But it did. I’m not asking you to relive the memory of that night as a form of punishment or ridicule. I’m offering you the chance to go back to that night and rather than become a victim all over again, you will have the ability to take control of your pain, face your fear, and fight back. Face your fear, Dick, accept it, and then defeat it. I am offering you a chance to act rather than re-act by giving you the WILL to act.”

He watched the boy closely and then folded his arms over his broad chest.

“You can refuse this option, fine. It’s your life, Dick—but just know that if you keep refusing to deal with what you went through? You will not be allowed to take on the mantle of Nightwing in Gotham anymore, you’ll be a liability. If you refuse to seek help and heal from this event how do you plan on facing anything else in this damned war? I can’t be responsible for losing you entirely. I won’t.”

Though his words were harsh they rang true.

Suddenly he reached out to tenderly place a hand on the boy's shoulder, a suspiciously father-like action, while quietly adding, “You’re losing yourself, Dick… Let me help you.”

[Dick Grayson - Nightwing]

The silents between the two was tearing at Dick. He couldn't stand this. His mind was shatter in pieces with all this. He had finally broken down. This was a new level. He wasn't completely helpless. He had a choice to make. But two things tore within him. His doubt and his heart. His heart was in the game, but his head no longer had the drive it once did. He just needed to get that mentality back.

When Bruce finally broke the silence. That familiar dark voice of his and the ruling over the situation was check as day to him. He sat there and took it for a moment. He collected himself enough to keep himself together. He didn't want to fall any deeper than he had. It had been enough for him. He couldn't take it any more.

He didn't move. His gaze upon Bruce as his words were spoken. There was so much more than just the words being said. The way he had been speaking focused Dick now to avoid eye contact at that time. It was a sign of respect and intent of listen to his mentor. This man had trained him just about more than half of his life.

Sure they had their differences, but there was no denying who he was and where Dick stood in line within this crusade. He was the next in line in the command of the Bat-family. Dick had been the first one to join the fight against crime in Gotham. As much of a choice as it had been for him to. And it being the way life had turned out for the young acrobat after his parents' deaths. There were so similarities to their lives.

But Dick was not Bruce. He had his own life to live and was creating his own path. As much as he wanted to be on his own and knew how to care for himself. Sometime there was a need for outside help. And this was one of those times. Dick could not pull through this on his own. This wasn't something Barbara would be able to help him work through either. Only his mentor had gone through such things to be able to have the strength to pull through. Just like time after time, beating after being, gun shot after gun shot, Dick had still gotten back into the line of work that he knew.

He watched Bruce cross his arms. His gaze slipping from the eye contact of his mentors as he continued on. The harsh reality of the situation hitting him. Getting him to open up his eyes and stop shutting out everything around him like he had been. And at the works of no longer being allowed to the mantle of the vigilante he had become and not allowed within this city...it crushed him. The words cutting deeper than a knife could.

Dick's eye contact was fully lost at this point. And at Bruce's words, he knew truly that Bruce would do that and make sure of it. His head dropped in disbelief at such a ruling. It was like being sentence to life in jail without parole. It was almost like the whole thing again of leaving and not longer being Robin any more. But at this, he would no longer be able to live the life he knew best.

Dick was silenced for the time. Almost in a state of shock over what Bruce had just ruled. Almost a disbelief for what he had just heard. But it was all true. Bruce didn't lie and he didn't say things he never meant. He was always straight forward and to the point. These were the ones he faced if he didn't pull himself together.

He could go on like this, but it would be unhealthy for him to do so. As well as what Bruce had said would happen. Dick wouldn't give up the one thing that made him, him. Taking away the vigilante life was like clipping the wings of a bird. Without that freedom, to Dick, there was no point.

Then out of no where, Dick felt a hand rest upon his shoulder. His gaze shooting up to meet with that of Bruce's own, almost stunned at this new action of Bruce. It wasn't a side he saw much and was not used to. Thought it was the kind of push he needed from the man who seemed to be stone cold toward everything.

This situation was not only affect him, but it was affecting Bruce as well. His words gave him sight to the burden the Bruce seemed to hold over the responsibility of this situation. Bruce wasn't going to let him fall into the darkness like how he had been sliding away slowly.

Dick's own blue eyes searched that of his mentor. The same strength still set in his view. Seeming to always remain unchanged and unshaken.

"Alright...What do I have to do," Dick finally answered after the longest time. After sitting for a moment longer, his left hand searched and found one crutch laying along his side. He grabbed for it slowly. Ready to stand and try to fight this. Still not wanting to do this, but he needed to move on truly. With now regrets left on the subject.

[Deleted]

Dick’s words echoed within the silence of the cave serving to finalize his agreement in accepting Bruce’s help. Though the task at hand wouldn’t be easy or exactly pleasant, it would become more then useful for Dick in dealing with his trauma—it would teach him how to harness his fear, accept the brutality of the war they fought, and become stronger and more unstoppable in the vigilance to uphold justice. The only way out sometimes was by going through.

Once Dick was on both feet Bruce led him to the med-lab portion of the cave where he had the virtual reality equipment all set and ready to be utilized. A quick yet thorough explanation was given to Dick of how the device worked once the VR helmet and bio-censors were put on. After a few moments, both Dick and himself were hooked up to the high-tech equipment, everything now set and ready to go with Bruce still at the helm of the computer to keep monitored control.

“I’m giving you the mild sedative now, Dick. It will help clear your mind from outside distractions so you can focus on that particular memory of that night in the bell tower. Once you become present within your mind’s eye as your external self, I will then join you. You’re not alone Dick. I’m here, every step of the way.”

He then administered the specialized sedative into Dick’s arm as he lay on the examining bed before Bruce clad in the VR related gear all syncing to the supercomputer. Bruce was also hooked up to the VR bio censors and gear just like Dick, but unlike Dick, he wouldn’t be under any sedative’s influence—that way he could also maintain control over the monitors and would be able to pull both of them out of Dick’s mind should things become unexpectedly too intense. Once Dick’s bio readings appeared on the computer screen, a light blinked on to indicate Dick was now fully conscious and aware within the confines of his own mind.

Bruce sat back in his massive chair before the supercomputer, the bat-computer, and placed the VR helmet onto his head. It would take a moment for him to adjust to the obscured perception and suddenly he found himself transported into Dick’s mind—appearing before Dick’s own external self as the way Dick truly viewed him to look like.

“See? Told you I’m here for you, every step of the way.”

Bruce reassured the projected image of the young man before him, seeing Dick the way Dick viewed himself to look. He glanced about the current setting they were in, taking in the details and noting the images before him.

“Remember, we’re in YOUR mind, Dick. You have complete control over this reality, controlling everything from how it looks, to what happens, to which memories you want to go into, even to how you want me to appear to you as. Don’t forget, no matter what happens in here, you ALWAYS have ultimate control.”

[Dick Grayson - Nightwing]

Dick followed silently as they made their way to the med-lab. Dick stood in understanding and silence as Bruce hooked him up the equipment. He saw that Bruce was preparing himself almost the same way. Dick climbed up onto the medical bed after Bruce's explanation of the equipment and what was to be done.

He lay still as he watched Bruce move about. Preparing the both of them for this. Dick wasn't all that thrilled to be doing this, but it needed to be done. As the needle came toward him, he flinched a little bit over it when it got close to his neck at first. But the tension was gone when it had been jabbed into his arm, The explanation to the flinching with the smallest amount would show through his memories.

Dick slipped away into a state of unconsciousness to the world around him after the sedative was administered. He was traveling through his own mind. the memories flashing pass him as he walked down the empty darkness of a hall within his mind. He stopped just short of a door that resembled the entrance of the door way to the bell tower.

In his own mind, Dick only saw himself as Dick. Not Nightwing and not fully Dick Grayson. But the person in between the two. There was no noticeable conformation of this. It was merely the way he presented himself. The person on the in between that only those who knew him well and all his secrets knew. Barbara knew this part of him best. The young man that didn't need to hide the secret life of Nightwing and didn't need to put up any type of act in public. The guy he wish he could just be all the time. Though in the real world, Dick presented himself more true then most in the Bat-family seemed to. But even in the real world, he still had to hide.

But in his mind he stood as just Richard 'Dick' Grayson. The middle between what he was. Unlike Bruce, he was true in some ways with himself as to not having to put up a total image like him. Dick looked just like his usual self. Dressed in causal black clothes, consisting of jeans, a hoodie, and black sneakers. This was the same Dick Grayson Bruce would see before him like he had in person. To Dick in his own mind, he didn't have the need to charge things about him.

He still stood there looking at the door, not wanting to venture in. The long hall of of images and doors disappeared in the darkness only to the bell tower entrance. Dick turned his around a bit to the voice slightly beside him. There stood Bruce. It was still Bruce beside him. Not some kind of monster some might think Dick to see Bruce as. Dick saw people as they were. He didn't live in some delusional world where he could manipulate the people.

Though the image of Bruce was that of the many times Dick had often seen Bruce dressed in his Bat suit, but with no cowl to hide his face. This image projected that it wasn't the Bruce Wayne image he saw. Nor was it fully the image of Batman. This was Dick's way of settling on an in between image of the man he knew had known. The true man that many others did not see. This was Bruce. The Bruce that was Batman, but still looked like Bruce Wayne. It wasn't distorted in any way. Dick was honest with himself and saw people as they were, not as he wanted them to be. He had no choice over that, even in his mind he couldn't bring himself to do such a thing at times.

At Bruce's words that he was there every step of the way, he closed his eyes for a moment. And the scenery of the darkness surrounding them by the door of the bell tower, a flashing image of a past memory flickered of the images that were locking in Dick's mind. It was the memory of Bruce talking with a much younger Dick Grayson. It had been after his parents' deaths. When it had been just Bruce and Dick at the time before everything. When Bruce had said he was there for him. Bruce had been there ever since. Dick did no see the images flicking around them with his eyes closed. It would only be something Bruce would have noticed around them.

Dick opened his eyes and listened to Bruce, but was looking at the door again. He didn't want to go in there, but he had to. He looked at the door. He reached a hand out for the door knob of the door. Then door vanished. The darkness filling with that haunting laugh of the Joker playing out. Shadows around them showing the laughing figure. His mind passed through his memories of being trapped and the Joker dragging him up the long stair way to the tower. Dick just stood there, the images flashing around them. A fragmented memory trying to break loss and take over again. The voice of the Joker echoing through. Some key phrases he had said from that night that Dick had not forgotten. The ones haunting him the most.

Aug 2, 2011 23:33:19 GMT -5 @missj said:

”You’re too easy, Bird Brain. Fatman never would have fallen for that old trick, heheh.” - The Joker

”This’ll hurt you a lot more than me…”

His mind transported them without the need to move at the time. The surrounding area, now as the bell tower. The darkness around them in the old stoned building. A wall of weapons on one side. And the large arches of the bell tower open to the night air. And there in the lone light that hung over head in the seen was the image of Dick, him viewing it as if he was there watching the event.

There was Nightwing being dropped to the ground unable to fight back. The Joker exhausted from having to haul him up the steps. The image of Joker then hauling him up onto a stone stab in the middle of the room and removing his gear like his escrima sticks, gloves and boots. Once again a comment from the Joker ringing out.

Aug 2, 2011 23:33:19 GMT -5 @missj said:

“Heh, I asked a TSA agent for a few techniques!”
“Any last words?”

The figure of Nightwing was now strapped to the slab by the cuffs and his gear withing sight, but out of reach. Then Dick's own voice could be heard in this conversation for once.

Aug 3, 2011 1:03:49 GMT -5 Dick Grayson - Nightwing said:

"Yeah...You're going to regret this," he growled at him in a harsh tone.

The words of the Joker now being heard by Bruce. The harsh truth of the situation. The teasing and fun the Joker had been having through out it, on display for Bruce to witness as well as Dick to relive if by watching it for himself. Remembering every detail of the place.

Aug 3, 2011 11:40:22 GMT -5 @missj said:

He shrugged his shoulder haphazardly before placing his index finger on the vigilante’s forehead, steadying his movements. “No, I don’t think I will. You see, you came to me and challenged me. You struck me in the cell. As far as I’m concerned, you were asking for this, Bird Brain. Besides, when was the last time Batman had a movie night?”

He stepped over to the corner and flipped a few switches before returning to his captive’s side with a menacing glare. ”Smile pretty, Robin, you’re on candid camera!” His laugh echoed through the bell tower as he pointed out the camera hanging from the ceiling right next to the only source of light, looking down at young Nightwing. The red dot shining below the camera was Nightwing’s indication that it was in fact recording. ”I thought about giving Bats a live feed, but I thought this might be more fun! Maybe I’ll stuff the disc inside you so they find it during your autopsy!” His laugh boomed out again as he skipped around the room, deciding what to start with first.

Pulling out his switch blade, the Joker slowed down and inspected his captive. Where to start… With a sudden lunge, he pierced Nightwing’s side just between the Kevlar plating on his suit. He smiled as he watched his victim begin to bleed. The first of many, many wounds to come.

Moving to Nightwing’s right side, the Joker repeated the action, only this time he widened the wound with his knife, dragging upward and pushing deeper until he could almost feel the knife scraping against the boy’s ribs. He looked at Nightwing’s face, searching for the pained reaction he desired. He knew it would come with time, he just hoped the boy could hold out for a while longer.

”There’s no point in being brave, Nightwing. It’s just your good ol’ Uncle Joker. I already know what a wuss you are.” His grin grew as he circled his prey. ”Harvey told me how you screamed and begged for Batman to come save you as he beat you with a crow bar, but the Bat didn’t show. He was out saving Gotham. He was too busy for you. Everyone’s always been too busy for you. So, Harv just kept hitting you and hitting you and hitting you until you cried like a little girl, screaming for the Batman. Only, he didn’t show for a few more hours. By then, it was too late. You were practically dead anyways.” He lowered his head until he was even with the boy’s ear, whispering menacingly. ”I heard you begged Harvey to kill you and get it over with.”

He stood up with a look of disgust on his face before slashing his knife across Nightwing’s chest, cutting through the Kevlar suit’s emblem but not quite reaching the flesh. ”You’re pathetic. No wonder you’re so easy to capture. No wonder the Batman didn’t bother saving you from Harvey. He knew you were a waste of time. But it’s ok, kiddo! I think you’re valuable. Who else could I torment Batsy with? HehehehahahahahahaaHAHAA!”

Aug 3, 2011 12:37:49 GMT -5 Dick Grayson - Nightwing said:

Though it with the blinding light, Dick caught a glimpse of the shining metal blade of a knife being pulled out. Dick tried to struggle, but was still unable to move. He could tell what was coming by the movement of the Joker, he braced himself as the blade pierced into his left side going right through his suit. He bit down hard, almost grinding his teeth together as he tired to withhold any shouts in pain. His eyes shut tight as he took the pain. The shadow cast by the Joker stretched over him as the clown moved to the other side and repeated the action. Dick once again bracing himself and not letting any yells escape him as he felt the blade. His eyes widening and he looked off toward an empty corner, trying to escape the pain. His shoulder tense as he wished he could get away from this. His breathing becoming faster at the shock of the sudden action the Joker had taken.

He tried to regain himself from the attacks as the Joker circled him. Not looking at the clown, he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of letting his comments getting to him. "You're living in the past, trying to relive the old so call glory days," Dick replied through heavy breaths as he continued to withhold a reaction to the pain. Thought when the clown lower himself to ear level with the vigilante, Dick glared at the clown and spat out drily, "I don't beg for death."

As the clown moved away from him, Dick saw him raise his blade. He flinched as the blade came within less than a millimeter from his skin as the knife was slashed across his chest. A large tear now lay across his chest where the knife had cut through. His chest raising and falling as he tried to remain still even though he couldn't move anyways. The clown still haunting him now with the past and saying how worthless he was to Batman. "I rather be dirty than to be worth anything to you, you lunatic. You know nothing about me," Dick replied. He could careless about the facts of the days of Robin. They were over. "And you don't know the Bat as much as you think you do," he tried to haunt the clown himself a bit. No one knew the Batman. A smug look on his face as he looked up at the Joker. It was either the dumbest thing he had done or perhaps the guttiest move against the situation. Either way, he wasn't going to let the clown talk him down.

At all this replaying exactly how it had happened, Dick himself, present in his own mind watching this. Turned away at the sight of the blade. Watching his own reaction to being stabbed. It wasn't every day someone saw themselves being stabbed. The memory continued on as Dick watched. Not speaking at first.

Then Dick's own voice could be heard after the scene of being stabbed and the words of the Joker. Not of the Nightwing on the slab, but Dick standing along side of Bruce. "He knew it was me," he said quietly. "He knew I was Robin. He targeted me for this. Saying I was the one asking for this after the visit to Arkham," Dick said. His sight looking back at the scene for a moment.

"I had struck the first blow in Arkham, reacting to his taunting in that place before all of this," Dick said, but became silent again. The scene fading a bit for the moment. Dick preparing himself for the next part of the memory.

[Deleted]

Upon glancing about the landscape within the reality of Dick’s mind he had entered into Bruce would notice that his long-time friend had placed them right into the foreboding and dark memory of that tormented, fateful night. He noted the structure of the gothic designed bell tower door, the stony layout of the archaic establishment around them seemed more confining, cramped, and darker than Bruce knew the real bell tower’s atrium to be. Given the fact that he was in Dick’s mind and experiencing Dick’s memories he also kept a mental note of how Dick’s memories appeared, getting an idea of Dick’s perception and thought process.

He also noted that the young man who stood before him wasn’t the outwardly over-the-top vibrant youthful persona that his prior protégé portrayed before the public, media, and social interactions as Dick Grayson; nor was the dark clothed youth before him the wisecracking, savvy, diligent, and agile vigilante crime fighter Nightwing—instead, the person who stood before Bruce was Richard Grayson in the way he saw himself truly. He was a blend of casual normalcy, carefree youth, respectful intelligence, keen inner strength and resilience… He was Dick, but also elements of Nightwing, and still even held elements of Robin. He wasn’t some dichotomy of separated identities; he had accepted all sides of himself and now appeared to simply just “be”.

Then again, such an image of the young man wasn’t too far off base in regards to how Dick was in the real world—Bruce had to admire the boy’s ability to actually embrace the duality of living such a lifestyle in a rather healthy sort of way. Though of course Bruce would never outright validate the kid on such a strong skill, but the appreciation and respect was unquestionably there. He was proud of Dick, the boy was actually becoming a very powerful man to be reckoned with (though no matter Dick’s age Bruce would still seem him as that little boy he took under his wing all those years ago…)

Hence why Bruce was more diligent than ever to help Dick—Dick’s uncanny ability to accept and embrace all sides of his life was in jeopardy due to the torment he had endured at the Joker’s hands. The light that had once seemed eternal in Dick’s eyes had been fading bit by bit as the days passed; so going through such an extreme measure like this method of unconventional therapy was a last resort in effort to help get the boy on a healing path, to help him be strong once more and face his fear—failure was not an option for Bruce.

Once he turned his gaze back to his form now gauging how Dick viewed him he couldn’t help but secretly be both amused and disheartened over his projected appearance. He was clad in the bat-suit, but the masked cowl was removed, exposing his identity as Bruce Wayne. As to where Dick was an accepted version of all sides of himself collecting as one person--actually dealing with his unique lifestyle in a remarkably healthy way , Bruce was split between the bat and the man--the two sides never having truly accepted one another, handling his unique lifestyle in a self destructive way.

Suddenly, the scene they stood in of the eerie and dampening atrium complete with threatening gothic door leading to the bell tower’s chamber flickered and faded briefly to show another memory of Dick’s… one that seemed so much lighter and free, despite the sadness that accompanied it. He was shown the image of the small young child, Dick as a little boy and a somewhat younger version of himself engaged in conversation—a memory of the golden days when things seemed more simple and yet still laced with the dampening darkness of grief and sorrow over the harsh reality that was life.

The memory flickered back to the same gothic bell tower door and when Dick glanced to Bruce, Bruce gave a single nod—Dick opening the door, starting the first step of his healing process by facing his fear. Bruce followed right behind Dick and was then presented with the scene of horror that was one of many now haunting Dick’s mind. Rage was the first emotion to boil up within him, anger, blind madness and fury all at the deranged homicidal sociopath known only as the Joker.

Of course the rage was an immediate go-to emotion for Bruce, covering up the immeasurable guilt he felt for not having been there to save Dick and for not cracking that damned scrawny neck of the Joker every time he had the chance… Emotions pushed aside, he watched, acting as a witness to the show of horrors before him. Finally when the scene ended Bruce looked to Dick and listened intently to his shaky words of explanation over the memory they had just watched.

“You didn’t “start” anything, Dick. You cannot put reason and justification to the acts of the Joker—you’re not being fair and reasonable to yourself if you do. He’s a twisted psycho, plain and simple. He would’ve struck at someone else if it hadn’t been you… You just happened to be his target of interest at the time.”

He added the last part in a grim tone. He remained beside Dick, allowing his prior protégé to ready himself before the next grueling memory was focused on and presented, steeling himself for what further acts of depravity were to come.

[Dick Grayson - Nightwing]

"Seems like an awful long time then if he had that much time to plan out his twisted mind games and torments," Dick replied. Things went flashing back to the dim lite area of the torture. There was now the added sound of dripping water. It was at a consistent rhythm. It had been the doing of the Joker. The Joker could be seen walking away from the pipe line at which the sound projected from.

At that second the scenery flashed between like lighting the scene from back when Barbara had visited with him a few days after the torment to see how he was. It had been a rainy day. And the dripping at the window reminded him of the water dripping of the pipes in the bell tower. Dick cringed at the annoying flash backs between things recalling and connecting to the torment memories. He wanted them to stop. He didn't want to connect his life with the ever lasting torment. He wanted away from it. The bell tower was seen between the scene quickly returning.

Aug 3, 2011 13:35:57 GMT -5 @missj said:

”That’s the intent, Nightwing. You kinda have to be dead before someone performs an autopsy. Seriously, you are dumb.” He patted the young vigilante trivially on the head before wielding his knife again, waving it through the air menacingly. He listened to each of Nightwing’s responses carefully, calculating his reaction perfectly. ”If I was living in the past, I would have dressed you in one of your old Robin costumes and beaten you with a crowbar.” His tone was short as an annoyed look crossed his face. He wasn’t going to let this brat undermine his perfect plot nor ignore the pure brilliance in it. The Joker was not some random brute. He was an artist who specialized in the area of murder.

Turning his back on the boy briefly, the Joker retrieved a small, purple, cylindrical container; something he knew the boy would recognize the moment he saw it. Joker toxin. “You know what your problem is, Birdie? You take things waay too seriously. Why, I’ve haven’t seen you smile in years. So, I whipped up something special for you.” He pressed down on the top of the cylinder which caused a needle at the opposite end to pop out. ”Just remember, the more you resist, the more it hurts.”

With his grin growing, the Joker pressed the needle into the vigilante’s neck, pressing the top of the container again to dispense the toxin into his victim’s body. Now, this toxin was extremely watered down. It would cause Nightwing to giggle, not quite as uncontrollably as most, but he would still feel his mind warped with laughter. He would also feel the tugging of his lips and tightening of his face as it contorted into his Joker grin. Basically, this drug would make Nightwing feel the effects of having Joker toxin in his system, but he would still be conscious enough to remember it; enough to damage his psyche.

For an added bonus, the Joker pulled out a crowbar and smashed it against Nightwing’s ribs several times until he heard a satisfying snap. With all the laughing Nightwing was about to be doing, cracked ribs were going to make it impossibly more painful. "Oops! Looks like I am living in the past... heheheheHAHA!" He would learn what it meant to take on the Joker.

Aug 3, 2011 14:19:21 GMT -5 Dick Grayson - Nightwing said:

The sound of water dripping caught Dick's attention. And his mind started to focus on it for a moment as the Joker came back towards him. Listen to the clown as he spot, he glared up at the clown has he was patted on the head, The Joker would pay for this. He treated him as if he was nothing more than a minor pest and a threat at all. Nightwing would show what a threat he was once he got out of his. He wasn't going to fall victim to the hands of the Joker, not this way. "That's not the point," Dick mumbled over the Joker missing the fact that he had meant he wasn't going to be able to kill him. He wasn't going to allow it. No matter what, he was going to fight.

Aug 3, 2011 14:19:21 GMT -5 Dick Grayson - Nightwing said:

By the way the Joker said it and the look of what he was holding in his one hand, Dick knew exactly what it was. Joker toxin...Nightwing desperately tried to struggle against his restrains, not much more than him being able to start moving his shoulders, but hardly enough to cause the Joker any worry. His fingers wanting to dig his nails into the slab of the table as the Joker approached with the needle. Dick pulled away in the direction trying to escape the needle, but it was no good.

He could feel the toxin surging into his system. He tried to fight it off. There was no way he was going to let the Joker win this. Dick closed his eyes and started to thrash his head from side to side as he tried to fend off the toxin getting to his mind, gritting his teeth as he tried. His system still trying to restrain them even though he had been rendered helpless against fighting back.

Nightwing's chest heaved up and down faster as he tried to control himself. Trying not to let the toxin take affect. His mind getting pulled away from his concentration. And with the crowbar landing on his rib cage, it had been too much for him to control it. "Ahh!" He had finally cried out as the crowbar came down on his ribs. A smile creeping onto his face as he tried to restrain himself. Within another few blows from the crowbar, Nightwing continued to cry out over the pain as he could feel one crack.

At this point, the toxin was taking more affect. A smile was almost on his face as he cried out in pain, followed by gasps to catch his breath after the wind being knocked out of him, laughter start to come between his breathes as he struggle to breath properly. His chest aching from the pain of his ribs as he continued to laugh. His lungs having trouble taking in the air through his laughter and his attempt to regain himself over the pain.

"You are going to pay for this...no matter what it takes," Dick said through the laughter that was forced from his system because of the toxin. The constant dripping still within his mind, as the toxin started to magnify the subtle sounds. His head lay flat against the slab looking up, as he tried to regulate his breathing as he continued through his laughter. His ribs starting to hurt more as it continued.

Mentally Dick could recall the pain of the still injured ribs. His flinched a little at the action. Hating to watch himself being force to laugh while being tortured again. His right hand with the wrist guard coming up to his chest as if the chance to protect them this time while watching it all. Dick wasn't sure about Bruce, but he wondered what was going through Bruce's mind. This couldn't be good for him or easy either to sit through.

Aug 3, 2011 18:58:30 GMT -5 @missj said:

”Precisely! Why even have a point? Why does everyone live their lives with a certain set of rules? Why can’t they just live to live? Everyone needs rules now-a-days. Everyone but me, little birdie. I’m just trying to bring you to my level.”

He watched as realization struck Nightwing as to what was in his hand and his fate. This was the Joker’s favorite part: the reaction. Each person reacted in a different way when they realized what was going to happen to them. Some broke down crying and begging for mercy. Others would begin name calling and threat making. Nightwing did neither. He kept all verbal responses bottled up inside. The Joker shook his head. ”You’re wasting your energy, kid. Everyone caves eventually.”

The Joker's words continued. The sights and sounds filling Dick's mind. More taunting of the Joker. The mind games continued through out the whole torment. "I know he was waiting for me to cave," Dick commented to Bruce.

"He water down the toxin to force me to be able to know what was going on. The toxin he used on me before had rendered my body...practically....helpless," Dick had a hard time getting the last part of the words out. Helpless was not a word he ever like to feel nor say. And he hated to admit it to Bruce as well at this point. It wasn't easy. But he could not have done anything about it at the time. The toxins he had been given had done that to him.

The next scene that played out was of the Joker beating his left foot with a paddle until it was red and started to swell. The whole time, Nightwing had been laughing through out it. Trying to yell out in pain as the ribs had been causing pain as well as the next attack. The Joker had clearly been enjoying it.

It was almost like a workout for the Joker, taking out any aggression he had on taking a swing at his foot. The hitting continued on and on. Dick blocked out the words during most of this. Watching it as it happened. Dick moved the scene in his mind to the car battery the Joker had jumper cables for.

"I don't know what more painfully watching myself go through the torture or actually going through it," he said as he watched. The laughter of Nightwing being blocked out as well. But it was clear the image of him there was quieting down from the toxins affect.

The sight of the Joker walking over with a bucket of water came back to mind. Dick got a cold shiver casting over his mind as he remembered that freezing cold water that had been dumped on him. And Nightwing on the slab was shivering at the chills from the cold water and the damp bell tower. Then suddenly the Joker had pulled out the knife again and slashed it across Nightwing's chest. Nightwing on the slab had been bracing himself for it, trying to grab at the slab with his hands. Then the Joker was placing his hand on the open wounds cause by the knife. Applying pressure on them to cause more pain. Nightwing yelling out at this action.

"He seemed to get me a bit with the electricity," Dick said in almost a coded way. There had been something the Joker had said that bothered him. Dick stopped and looked at Bruce. He wasn't sure he wanted Bruce to see what was next. He wasn't sure he wanted to go through it either with the conversation.

"Bruce? You remember the crowbar incident with Two-Face....Joker used that. Trying to get me to crack...He did....well a bit," Dick said. For once saying something that happened before it had in his memory to be shown. It wasn't the torture method of it, but he was opening up a bit about it before it. "I failed then...he went on later about blood on my hands. It's true. Like it had been with that DA's that night against Two-Face. If it weren't for me...that man might still be alive..." It had taken place when he was first starting out. The beat down with Two-Face when Robin had to make the decision between help Batman or the DA. He tried to help the DA and it had been a double trap. The DA had ended up losing his life. And Dick had moved on from that years and years ago. But never forgot the lives that were lost in his hands. Dick never knew how Bruce felt about that. But Joker had gotten it out of him that he had failed. Dick was going to show in his mind the torture how the Joker got it, but it seemed best for him to try and say something about it before hand. He had just come out to say it on his own before the images.

[Deleted]

Without shadow of a doubt the torture that Nightwing had endured by the Joker’s hands was painfully twisted in a way that left damaging mental scars way deeper than any physical wound could ever cause. Though Nightwing was a fully-fledged hero and a man by society’s definition via his age, he was still in some way forever the same young boy Bruce had adopted so many years ago in Bruce’s mind. How the Joker could inflict such heinous treatment on a boy was beyond both Bruce and the Batman. He kept himself grounded, shrouded in stony silence watching the scene display before him, suddenly feeling an icy sick wave of horrified disgust…

So enraged and focused on the Joker, he found himself fantasizing about taking that damned paddle and cracking it against Joker’s skull full force. Not just one debilitating swing would be taken—oh no. He fantasized about beating that eerily clown-painted face in over and over, striking a heavy handed blow for each painful laugh Nightwing gasped out. Beating the sick, murdering psychopath’s head in until it was nothing more than a bloodied pulp, a mashed stump, sitting atop his scraggily neck—choosing to finally just end the clown violently and brutally.

Of course… the mortified sick feeling of weighted guilt and diligence held such actions back at bay in real life. He didn’t kill not just because he refused the role of executioner, but also because he knew that once he took one life he would never be able to stop given all the madness, sickness, and corruption that seethed within the world. Once the scene finished and Dick now added his reserved explanation of things, Bruce said nothing in response—acting now as the listener and portraying himself as the pillar of strength he was known to be. He was stable and composed for Dick; he had no other choice to be anything but. When Dick brought up that fateful night from some time ago, Bruce suddenly placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder and finally spoke firmly and unyielding in response.

"You didn’t put that DA into such a situation. You did all you could at the time. For people like us… Doing all we can will never be enough. But doing something to stop the injustice and sickness in the world is better than adding to it. The blood would truly be on your hands if you did nothing to stop it."

He watched Dick a moment and then removed his hand and gave a small nod. Though he wasn’t the number one “go to” person when it came to pep-talks, or being a little more open about his emotions, or showing gratitude when help is proffered, or even providing validation over successful feats for that matter—Bruce was, if anything, straight to the point and focused on the heart of the matter, stating the true logical justice of things, justifying the situation by empowering the intentions to ensure an improved outcome next time. Relentless. Diligent. A militant-type leader working endlessly to motivate his soldiers by keeping total focus on the desired victory of the war, rather than the schematics of the battle.

“I know there’s more to see—I’m ready whenever you are.”