Blank: Extras

Another Prologue (Scrapped Rewrite)

Good morning everybody! Just wanted to let everyone know that I may leave authors notes or comments about certain sections and my thoughts on it, so look out for comments on certain paragraphs!

CW: Unknown Diagnoses, Medical visit, downplaying a situation (let me know if I should add anymore!)

>> 1: Prologue <<

Bruce stepped through the door to see Dick sitting on his bed, staring off into nothing. "Dick," The boy looked up at him. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes." Dick nodded. "I feel fine."

"Can I sit down?" Dick nodded and scooted over on the bed. Bruce sat down beside him. "Are you sure you're feeling ok? You know you can tell me if anything feels different, right?"

"Yes, I know that." He said, "I just don't feel anything."

"Anything? You don't feel anything at all?" It had just been his parent's anniversary, and Dick was saying he didn't feel anything?

"Nothing." Dick said, it was almost nonchalant, but it was to monotone to even have a tone of not caring.

"Dick why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"Nothing was wrong." Dick responded. "It didn't seem necessary."

Bruce set his hand on Dick's shoulder, attempting to figure anything out. But Dick did look like he was telling the truth, that he wasn't feeling anything. He looked like a sculpture, empty and hollow. He'd gone through tough phases of feeling empty after his parents, but this seemed different. Dick looked too empty for it to just be the spiral of grief. Dick had been doing better too, why would this suddenly happen?

"Do you remember when this happened?"

Dick looked over at the window, "After the [redacted] accident." Bruce flinched at the mention of it. He had started to see some oddities in Dick's behavior after he'd gotten Dick home. But his . . . time, with [redacted] hadn't been any different than any other time either of them had spent with [redacted]. What made this time any different?

"Dick . . ." He looked up at Bruce. "Did [redacted] do anything different while you were with him?"

"He [redacted]." The boy sounded like a robot, retelling something that'd normally give him nightmares for weeks without even getting teary eyed.

"It felt," Dick stopped, trying to find the right word Bruce assumed. "Different, like something wasn't right." Bruce watched him, seeing no change in his expression. Those [redacted] did something, nothing else could have.

"We'll figure this out." Bruce put a hand on Dick's shoulder, the boy didn't respond. Bruce felt his stomach clench at seeing the boy so hollow compared to his usually overly energetic self, it just didn't seem right. Nothing about this was right.

"We'll figure this out."

"Mr. Wayne," The Doctor sighed, setting down her clipboard. "This is the oddest case of – well – anything I've ever seen."

Bruce sighed and ran a hand down his face. He sat back  in his chair across from her in the starch white room. "Is there anything that you can explain? Anything at all?"

She pushed her glasses farther up her nose. "There the chance that its Congenital Insensitivity to Pain, CIP for short. But–"

"What's CIP?" Bruce interrupted.