I’ve been slowly trying to write this, but I really do feel tapped out regarding inspiration on like everything.
So, here’s part of what I have. Maybe posting will help motivate me:
“Hey, are you going to sleep all night? Or are you going to get up?”
The voice that managed to rouse him from unconsciousness sounded familiar and familial. He couldn’t place the name. Had it been that long since he’d heard the voice? But, if someone he knew was talking to him, then he had to be safe, at least for now.
As he tried to move, stars temporarily filled his vision. He must have hit his head pretty badly. A concussion? Maybe, but he didn’t feel nauseous. At least not yet. Small victories.
“Wait, are you hurt?” Honest surprise could be heard in the familiar voice. “Shit. Come on, Dick. Wake up.”
Groaning slightly, Dick forced open his eyes, and for a moment, his vision swam. After blinking a few times, he found himself on the ground in one of the various back alleys in Gotham. To his right, a teenager was nervously kneeling next to him with his left hand outstretched as if he was ready to shake his shoulder.
For a moment, Dick thought it was Tim. But why would Tim be in civies and trying to wake him up in an alley? Blinking again, he noted the teen was wearing a red hoodie and torn up jeans. Both were smudged with dirt, as was his face. But his face belonged to someone long since dead.
He had to be hallucinating again. Just how hard did he hit his head when whatever happened happened for him to be seeing his dead brother? He tried to sit up, but the hallucination gently put a hand on his chest to stop him.
“Whoa! Don’t move too much yet. I need to check for injuries,” the hallucination told him. There was an edge to the voice that was somewhere between firm and exasperated.
“You changed your costume. Looks a heck of a lot better, but I have no clue where anything is…” it muttered as it looked him over. “Where are you hiding the pen light in this thing?”
“There’s a hidden compartment near my right ankle,” he replied, somewhat amused by the response. “You like the change?”
“Yeah, you don’t look like an out of place disco dancer anymore.”
“I’ll have you know that suit was a classic… Ow!” The sudden light shining in his eye from the light the hallucination somehow managed to find hurt. Actually, how did it do that?
“You can’t excuse that collar or the V-neck, Dick,” the hallucination said as it turned the light off and sighed. “At least your pupils are reacting normally. Can you follow my finger with your eyes?”
The hallucination leaned closer so it could preform the necessary test. As the spots from the sudden bright light faded, Dick studied its face. He didn’t quite look the same as he remembered. This Jason looked slightly order than when he died. Fresh scars could be seen on his skin, with the worst fading into his hairline where a touch of white could be seen at the base of his bangs. His eyes, vivid blue with a strange green glint, were both focused and concerned.
While those scars betrayed what happened to him, Jason looked so real and alive that Dick gave into the impulse to reach his hand up and touch his brother’s face. Instead of finding nothing but air, his hand touched something very real and solid. Alarmed, Dick sat up and scooted backwards away from whatever that was.
“I don’t think you should be moving yet,” the imposter said as he reached out but aborted the movement when he noticed Dick’s defensive posture.
“Who are you?” he snarled as he reached for an escrima stick. The movement hurt, but it just felt like a combination of stiffness and forming bruises.
Frustration flickered across the imposter’s face before anger and then resignation replaced it. “Shoulda guessed you wouldn’t remember me. You weren’t around a lot, and B didn’t really want me away from Gotham. I don’t even know how long it’s been since I died.” Shaking his head, he stood up. “Guess I really wasn’t family…”