Dick staggered into the foyer, the world spinning around him. Crane was actually in the manor. He was in the manor! Bruce had invited him in.
One part of Dick wanted to believe that this was all some elaborate scheme on Batman's part, but another very real part of him was certain that Bruce's judgement might actually be that poor.
"If it's any consolation, I tried to talk master Bruce out of it." Alfred said, materializing at his side. He seemed to notice Dick's rather despondent presence and tipped the boy's chin up with two fingers. "Master Dick, are you unwell?"
"I'm alright Alfred." The boy said, limping past.
"If there's anything I can do..."
Dick paused on the first step. "Maybe if you could make me a snack...?"
Alfred smiled an eighth of an inch. "I'll bring it up as soon as it's ready."
Dick padded up the stairs, crutch stuck awkwardly in his armpit.
"I just don't understand, he's been acting himself but this one concrete delusion..." Bruce muttered, hands clasped in front of him on his knees.
"It sounds like this might be a deeper problem," Dr Crane hummed, "what we see of the psyche is merely the tip of the iceberg, and often goes much deeper than we expect."
"So what do you suggest?"
"Give me five minutes alone with the boy, I'll soon have it figured out." The scrawny man assured.
"I'm not sure about that...," Bruce began, "he really is terrified, I wouldn't want to put him through that."
"It will only be for Five minutes." Crane persuaded. "it will be necessary to assess him if you want to find out how to help him."
Bruce hesitated, he didn't want to frighten Dick like that, but if it could get him answers as to what's going on... he just couldn't take not knowing. He wanted to help. "Alright, Five minutes."
Dick sat on his bed, staring at the two men, his heart beating in triple time. "...alone?"
"It will just be for five minutes." Bruce assured.
"No!" Dick exclaimed. "He's, he's..."
"What am I, Richard?" Crane asked slyly, sitting on the desk chair opposite him.
"I'll be right downstairs." Bruce promised. "Just yell if you need me and I'll be right up."
"I just want to help you." The doctor set his bag on the floor. "Won't you cooperate, Dick?"
"No..." He looked pleadingly at Bruce. "Please?"
Bruce tore his gaze away. "I'll be right downstairs."
and with that, he closed the bedroom door behind him.
Dick stared at Crane. Crane stared back, a soft smile growing on his lips. "Now, Richard."
"What are you going to do?" The boy asked hollowly.
"Have you ever heard of the Amygdala?" Crane asked, opening his bag.
"I've heard of it." Dick replied stiffly, watching the man's hands.
"It's the part of your brain that makes you feel fear," The professor continued. "The thalamus sends information to the amygdala, and the amygdala activates your sympathetic nervous system, that causes the fight-or-flight response."
Dick hesitated. "Why are you telling me this?"
"In my years studying fear, I discovered that there was a particular, potent, chemical brew which can simulate a frightening situation, activating phobias and replaying trauma... and you, young mister Grayson, you've got quite the traumatic experience to experiment on."
"I'll tell Bruce." Dick said immediately. "I'll scream and he'll be right in here..."
"And I'll tell him your imagination is getting the best of you." Crane removed a thin medical needle, he snapped it onto a syringe and began filling it from a fluorescent green bottle. "After all, who's he more likely to believe? The professor of psychology, or the little kid who sees imaginary boogeymen behind every corner?"
"I just don't know." Bruce said, head in his hand as he languished against the kitchen island. "I feel bad for leaving him with Dr. Crane, but how else are we supposed to figure out what's wrong?"
Alfred spread peanut butter on toast methodically, deep in thought. "I imagine master Dick was not pleased."
"I hoped... I hoped talking with the Professor would help him over come whatever obsession he had..." Bruce sighed. "I don't know, Alfred."
"My first plan was to test it on Bruce Wayne, his trauma is almost as famous as he is." Crane explained. "But that night I snuck in, when I saw you... it was perfect." He smiled a very slight, transient smile. "Nobody believes children."
"Why, though?" Dick ordered, though his voice was starting to shake with worry. "Why do you have to test it on me?"
"For research." Crane replied. "I needed someone with a traumatic event in their past, and no undergraduates stepped forewords, so I sought something out. If you're lucky, your case will be included in my curriculum next semester."
"What about me?"
Crane shrugged. "Maybe it will wear off, maybe it won't, but you're contributing to important research." He leaned close, grabbing Dick's forearm. He pushed the bubbles out of the syringe. Dick squirmed and fought, but Crane was stronger, he began lowering the needle towards Dick's veins.
There was a deafening crash as the door was kicked open.
"Alright, what's going on here?"
"Alfred!" Dick shouted, using the momentary distraction to break from Crane's clutch. He scrambled into the corner.
"I was just assessing Richard--"
"I heard enough of your assessment." Alfred said, cocking his ancient shotgun. "The police are on their way, I suggest you put the needle down."
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The Man in my Doorway
FanfictionThe kitchen lights flicked on above them. "Whatever is going on here?" Alfred demanded, as trim and prepared as he was during broad daylight. "What is master Dick doing out of bed?" "It's fine, Alfred." Bruce rested a hand on the boy's head. "I thin...