Chapter Text
So the nurse had shoved everyone out of the room, but maybe rules did not apply to the suited mannequin because he came back again after maybe hour or so.
Dick (yup that’s his name) heard a noise similar to someone punching a hole in the wall, not too long ago and the redness of this guy's knuckles tells him that it was him.
And to think he thought Jason would be the violent short temper type.
He should never judge a book by its cover and speaking of books, he might as well be one because this dude has been reading him for the last five minutes. This man was not speaking, just fucking staring at him.
Alright, guess Dick would be the one to break the ice.
"So…” he began and stopped because holy shit, what was this guy's name again? Also, should he be calling his sort of maybe kinda dad by his name?
“.... Ah, so what do I call you usually?" he continued.
"You can call me anything you find comfortable. Usually you would call me B."
"The B word?!" he exclaimed. That seems concerningly disrespectful. Is he a rude piece of shit? No wonder someone decided to shoot him!
"No! God no, just the letter B. It’s short for Bruce," he said, his voice still very controlled.
"Oh, alright then," he sighed, a bit relieved to know he was not a verbally abusive asshole.
"I have talked to the doctors. They say it’s alright to take you home." Bruce said.
"Home? … right, home. Isn’t it too soon though? I just woke up. Who knows, I might still have some brain damage." He said awkwardly.
"We have all the means to take care of you at the manor, and it’s not safe right now with the man who shot you still on the loose. So what do you say?"
Well, he definitely doesn't wants to be shot again, but he also really didn’t want to go “home.”
Who knew what that is like? He knew this Bruce Wayne guy was rich by how the nurses and doctors talked to him.
Rich rich, since he was allowed to adopt so many kids, and all those kids must be back at his home, and Dick was not sure if he was ready to live with so many strangers yet.
But either he took too much time answering or maybe what he wants doesn’t matter because before he knew it, he was standing in front of a fucking haunted house, complete with bats flying into gray skies and everything.
Yup, he was not going in there, so he turned around to leave, but Bruce grabbed his hand and guided him inside the murder mansion.
Of course this happened when he didn’t recall any prayers.
The door opened, and an older gentleman greeted them. He was British. Cool.
"Master Dick, I am very pleased to see you return." He said and Oh my god, so much sudden respect almost made him cringe.
“Just Dick is fine," he said sheepishly.
"Ah, I see we will have to play the old games again since you lost your memories, but as I have told you many times before I shall only refer to you as Master Dick."
"Right… and what are you… I mean, who are you?"
"My name is Alfred Pennyworth. I am the butler of Wayne Manor."
"Alfred is a friend. He practically raised me after my parents’ death, and you too," Bruce said.
"So you raised him…" he asked, then he whispered to Alfred, "Do you ever sit down and wonder where you went wrong?"
"More often than not." Alfred replied easily.
"That’s enough for now," Bruce said, a bit annoyed. "Dick, there is something I need to show you."
“Seems you decided to not take my advice after all.” Alfred said, crossing his arms.
"He needs to know." Bruce argued.
"Know what? Needs to know what? Do I get a say in it?" Dick asked quickly.
"Dick, there are things I couldn’t tell you in the hospital, things you need to remember, and for that you need to come with me to the cave."
"Cave?" He looked at him but Bruce didn’t answer, so he looked at Alfred and asked again, "Cave?"
"It’s easier to just show you," Bruce said.
Dick swallowed hard. "It’s not a name for a cult, right?"
______________
Turns out it wasn’t a cult, but an actual freaking cave. This guy had a freaking cave in his basement. What the hell.
Dick stood in front of the monitor, which played a video. There was a guy dressed as… a bat.
That very same costume was displayed among many others in this cave, so that meant that was Bruce. And the one with him in the video in that other costume who just died… was him.
Well, not really dead.
He just looked like he died with blood pouring out of his head and mixing with the rain water.
What a sight.
"Why… Why are you showing me this?"
"You are Nightwing, Dick. We are vigilantes. It’s our duty to protect the people."
"You… are insane. Are we sure you also didn’t get shot in the head? Because you are out of your mind."
"Dick, I know it sounds ridiculous, but its the truth."
"That’s not what I am fucking worried about! It’s you who is freaking me out. Why would you show me a video of myself fucking… dying, man? You couldn’t think of another way to go on about it?"
"I thought it would be the fastest way to get your memory back, and—"
"Well, I don’t have my memories back, but guess what? I now have the image of myself getting shot. God, what’s wrong with you? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I know it’s a bit much, but it’s important that you remember who you are."
"A bit much… no offense, but I would be calling the authorities if I remembered any of their numbers."
"911," Alfred said from the corner.
"Alfred!" Bruce said, his eyebrows furrowed.
"I told you this was a terrible idea." Alfred said.
"I need to be alone," Dick said, because his head felt like it was going to split any second now, he started walking away.
"Dick, Wait." Bruce stopped him, putting a hand on his shoulder, and without thinking, almost instantly, Dick grabbed his hand and threw him on the floor. For a moment, there was dead silence.
"Oh shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to… or maybe I did. Whatever, you deserve it for being a jerk," Dick blurted out.
To his absolute shock, Bruce was smiling.
Alright, that looked wrong considering the situation, and even in general, a smile felt odd on this man's face.
"Why is he smiling?" Dick asked Alfred. "Don’t tell me on top of everything he is also a masochist."
"That’s not it!" Bruce said immediately.
"Then why are you grinning, laying on the floor?" Dick asked suspiciously.
"Because this means you still have your muscle memory intact. We might be able to use that," Bruce said, getting up.
"Are you actually for real right now?" Dick said, sounding done.
"Dick, this is for your own good."
"No, you… God, I can’t even look at you. And the worst part is you act like you are helping me. Fuck, you actually think you are helping me, don’t you?"
"I think it’s best if I show Master Dick to his room," Alfred said, putting a hand on his back and leading him out of the cave and upstairs.
“That man is unbelievable.” Dick said his voice louder than intended but he couldn’t care less about that.
“That I can't argue with.” Alfred said.
Alfred seemed to be completely sane and logical, unlike Bruce, yet for some reason he still subjected himself to working for him. He doesn’t understand these people at all and this place…it doesn't feel like home, not even a little.