Dick woke up in a dark place. It was cold, and the floor was hard. Dick groaned as he pushed himself up, head throbbing. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, letting him see a very small space.
Dick sat against one of the walls, trying to think. There was one door to the chamber, a small slot near the top. There was a small glass of water in one corner, but Dick left it alone. There may be poison in the water.
Wherever he was, it was safe to assume the door was locked. His body seemed heavy, weighing his mind down. Dick tried to stand up, but crashed to the ground. His body shook, partially from cold and something else. Something Dick couldn't place. Something familiar.
A clanking drew his attention. Dick laid still, watching with curiosity as someone came in. They were in a white robe, a red cross on their arm. They knelt down in front of Dick, rolling him onto his back. Dick's head was propped up, and his hair brushed out of his face.
There were things done to him. Dick couldn't describe them; he'd forgotten how to describe almost anything. His mind seemed to get fuzzier, words erasing from his vocabulary. What he did know was that it hurt. He recoiled from some of them, trying to escape. The doctor held him firmly, keeping him still.
When it was over, Dick was laid back down and left. The door closed, and that clanking returned. Dick found no energy to move, so he stayed still. His body felt as if it was a shell keeping him inside, keeping him from flying away.
Dick eventually drifted off. Everytime he woke, he was back in that room. He was usually woken up by someone entering the room, although there were occasions he woke up on his own. When that happened, Dick just laid there. His energy seemed to drip out, never replenishing.
Dick spent most of his days sleeping. There were times he could sense people doing things to him, tests and other such things. But he never felt it. Never saw it. He simply couldn't.
Then Dick was fighting. He was in rings, crowds of people watching him. He was not his own anymore; someone else controlled his body. No fighter controlled their bodies. They were toy soldiers. Someone they hid behind glass screens controlled them. They were given the glory. He fought someone he had never seen every night, the only way for him to track the time being the moon.
The eighth night he fought, people attacked the ring. People with capes and colorful costumes. A boy with a yellow costume and red hair caught Dick's eye. He…he knew these people. They were his family. He couldn't be fighting against them.
Yet he was. The person behind the glass screen controlled him, making him take down hero after hero. People called his name, trying to get him to see reason. He saw the reason; his body did not. He could hear the person behind the glass laugh, ringing in his ears. The boy in the yellow seemed torn up, tears in his eyes.
The person behind the glass stopped controlling him. He was unable to move as a fist came his way, making contact with his chest. Dick crashed to the ground, black dots inviting him to join them. Come, they said. There is no pain here. You don't fight them. Dick went with them.
The next time he woke, he was somewhere bright. Something was making noise in the background, making him want to curl up and never uncurl. His memory was still uncertain, but something told him he was safe. This bright, strange place was still familiar.
Straps held his body down. Maybe to keep him from fighting? But Dick didn't want to fight! He wanted to go home. He wanted his family. His heart wanted the boy in the yellow, even though his brain cold not remember why. But Dick wanted him badly.
The next time he woke, someone was treating him. A woman with grey hair, dressed in a white coat…white coat. White coats were dangerous. White coats meant they wanted to hurt you, they didn't care about you. Wherever Dick had been, the people all had white coats.
Dick tried to escape. The straps held onto him tightly while the woman tried to calm him. Dick didn't listen, couldn't listen. The white coats had hurt him before, they were there to hurt him again. He wasn't safe anymore.
The woman called for someone. A Wally. It must be another white coat. Dick struggled harder, feeling the straps dig into his wrists. He didn't care, he just needed to escape. He couldn't be around the white coats.
The boy in the yellow came in. It was enough to shock Dick into stillness, his mind trying to think. He knew this boy, and he knew him well. Why did he know him well? The woman stepped back, watching Dick with interest.
"Dickie? Can you hear me?" The boy, Wally, asked. Dick couldn't answer, mind racing. Wally grabbed his hand, petting his head. The woman stepped into a corner, backing away from the two. "Can you hear me? Do you know who I am?" Wally seemed to be closer to crying. "He may not be able to hear you. The drugs are still in his bloodstream, no matter how much they've been diluted." The white coat warned.
"I…I know you. I can't remember where, but I know you." Dick said breathlessly. "Yeah, you know me, Dickie. You know me very well. I've got a few pictures to show you. Here, just let me grab them." Wally said shakily, reaching for his wallet.
Dick watched intently as Wally showed him picture after picture. There was a man he knew, in front of a manor. Wally told him it was his father, Bruce. Dick had a lot of siblings, and a lot of friends. With each new name, part of his memory returned. Whether he remembered all of what happened with that person or just one memory, it came back to him.
Wally stayed with him that night. Dick couldn't sleep, knowing there was a whole life he couldn't remember. Wally showed him videos and more pictures, smiling when he smiled. Wally seemed to be hesitant to show videos of their relationship, explaining that he didn't want to make Dick uncomfortable, or feel forced back into a relationship he didn't remember. Dick had assured Wally that he wanted to know.
When Dick slept again, he dreamt of his life. He dreamt of fighting crime with Batman, dressed in bright colors and a cape. He remembered an argument with Bruce, and suddenly he was in black and blue. Then he started dating Wally. There was a dog who passed away. A puppy that came to their family. Every memory seemed to spark more, making it very easy for Dick to remember everything.
When he woke again, Dick was calmer. He was still a little nervous around Leslie, but he was no longer terrified. They brought Bruce into the room, Wally being the only one allowed in there. When Dick showed no signs of terror, instead recognition for both men in there, they brought more people in.
They started with his siblings. The older ones came in first, and Dick was fine once again. They brought in younger ones. Dick was fine still. Wally held Dick's hand the entire time, watching closely.
The decision came to unstrap Dick. Dick's arms were released first, a test before undoing the rest of the straps. Dick could move his arms again, his body no longer under someone else's control. The other straps were slowly undone, until they were all off.
The group of people in the room, crushed Dick in a hug. There were tears, laughter, and a kiss placed on his forehead. Dick found himself crying, his body having been deprived of his family for far too long. His family didn't let go until Dick stopped crying. There was still plenty of work to be done, but Dick was home once again.
