Control

A.N.: I'm still working hard on Tooth and Claw, but this little plot bunny turned up and, since I can't include it in the story itself, I'm writing it as a stand-alone piece until I can start uploading Tooth and Claw. Consider it a deleted scene, if you will. Enjoy!

Dick's eyes were barely open before he could feel a bright light shining into them. Instinctively, he brought a hand up to shield his eyes as he flinched, not that it did any good. Even in his groggy state, he knew a headache when it squeezed on his skull.

"Motherfu-, JERRY!" a man's voice roared. He didn't get a look at his captor, for the man stormed out of the room before the afterimage could clear from his vision. Once it did, however, silver bars made their appearance in front of his face.

He made to pick himself up off of the floor, only to worsen his head by smacking it against the ceiling. His claustrophobia began to kick in; there was hardly room to breathe in the small, barred space, let alone move.

"I don't care how many you had, Jerry; you shouldn't have been drinking in the first place. Now, we've got a dude in there, instead of a wolf, and the wolf is still out there! When we're through with this, you are FIRED, you hear me? FIRED!" The muffled conversation continued, growing clearer as two clunking sets of footsteps approached. "Hey, hey, get the kid a towel, will 'ya? He's showing more than a post-mortem hooker."

Nightwing glanced down and found the man was right. Sapphire eyes weren't the only jewels being displayed. He laid his head back on his folded arm and idly took note of the numb, tingly feeling enveloping his body.

"For the last time, I wasn't drunk! I know what I saw, and what I saw was a freaking wolf. People don't call animal control over some dude, naked or not."

Despite his confidence in his tipsy decisions, Jerry let out a string of curses upon his entrance. Dick silently followed him with his eyes as the older man stared through the wire bars in amazement. Then, for good measure, he glanced down before shining his flashlight in the boy's eyes, making him squint again. Something groaned as it was dragged across the linoleum floor; he supposed the other guy had pulled out a chair.

Jerry, after thoroughly blinding his captive with his flashlight and far over-stepping his boundaries, unlocked the wire door and dragged Dick out by his shoulders. Whatever he was on must still have been in him, since he couldn't do much more than slump against the plastic cages stacked behind him, head leaning against the top one that had previously been his. That said, he forced himself to move when the elder got too close for comfort as he went to wrap the boy in a towel. Tired though he was, that was just too far.

"Sit down, kid. You really shouldn't be standing just yet," the other man, Phil by his name tag, ordered. Dick obeyed without question, too groggy and high to argue. Still, he couldn't help but feel more than a little uncomfortable with two burly men in the room, and him in nothing but a towel.

"We're not gonna hurt you," Phil began, which somehow alleviated a fraction of his discomfort. "What's your name?"

"Dick. Grayson." He was really tired. "H-how'd I get here. Where am I?" He ran a tingly hand over his face and through his hair in an attempt to wake himself. He listened with half an ear as he dropped a bit of dried leaf from his sluggish fingers.

"We're Animal Control. And Jerry, here," Phil paused to glare at his subordinate. "Got a little drunk last night and tried to capture a wolf, who turned out to be you. How do you remember it?"

Dick squeezed his eyes shut, trying to recall last night's events. They came to him in choppy flashes.

Himself, pulling off a sweaty T-shirt and vowing to get the heating in his apartment checked out.

A headache arriving soon after that, and white-hot, agonizing pain taking over his body as soon as he stood up.

A nightmarish, barely recognizable image of himself reflected in the mirror.

Screaming. His screaming.

"I was…watching TV at home," he told the men. Wait; did that match what they had said? "I went for a walk, after. Everything after that is kind of a blur."

Phil leveled Jerry with a fiery glare.

"Sorry about this, kid. I-" Dick waved a hand. Whatever happened last night didn't matter. He just needed to get home.

"I'll have our receptionist drive you home. What's your address?"

"1013 Parkthorne Avenue."

"What town?"

"Blüdhaven, Connecticut."

"Connecticut? Kid, you're in New York!"

Dick looked up at the two men in surprise. New York? How'd he get to New York?

"We're not that far from the state border," Phil continued. "Janet'll take you home. Jerry and I are going to scrounge a pair of pants for you, okay? Stay here." Dick nodded.

"You better count your stars, Cruncher," Phil's voice continued in the hallway. "You're lucky I checked on him. We were gonna euthanize the kid, for crying out loud!"

"Coulson, please. I told you-"

"You're fired. No ifs, ands, or buts." A minute later, they returned with a pair of slacks in hand. They were a size too big, but wearable. Phil let him lean on his shoulder as Jerry left, probably to get his belongings out of his locker. The man passed the address on to Janet, who graciously agreed to take the boy home.

The ride was long and blessedly silent, save for the mesmerizing sound of the road. The tranquilizers finally began to wear off in the hour it took to get home, which he would have been glad for, had the numbness not worn off into aching limbs and a killer migraine.

"We're here, honey," Janet sweetly announced. Nightwing looked up from the space he'd been staring into and smiled an awkward thanks to the old woman.

"Are you sure this is your house? I don't think such a strapping young man should be living here." Dick's brows knit together as he turned to see what she was looking at.

Glass trailed along the sidewalk, the bulk of it being below his broken window. The lights in the apartment were still on, making the apartment look that much sketchier.

"It's fine, ma'am," assured her. "Thanks for taking me."

"Oh, it was my pleasure. Be careful over that broken glass, you here?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The senior drove off once Dick was through the door.

The apartment was trashed.

Shredded remains of clothes laid on the floor. His kitchen looked like an animal had ripped it apart, with magnets and empty boxes of cereal strewn about the floor. Farther off, pieces of Styrofoam that had previously been a package of chicken sat in their own small patch.

He observed scratch marks as he pulled his bedroom door ajar.

The bedroom itself, thankfully, was somewhat intact, if only for the fact that there wasn't much to break.

The thought flashed through his mind that he might've been the one responsible for the destruction, but he pushed it away almost immediately. Whatever it was that he remembered was just a bad dream.

Deciding to leave everything until tomorrow, he flopped onto his bed to examine his weary body.

Janet had been right about those glass shards, but everything else appeared in order. No redness or visible injuries anywhere. So why was everything hurting so much?

He got up again and made his way to the bathroom. The painkillers behind the mirror were downed in an instant.

Of their own accord, his eyes travelled upwards to meet his reflection in the mirror, just to make sure it was still him. Still human.

The reflection met those standards. At least, it was now.

He shook the thought from his mind as soon as it had arrived. He was watching TV last night.

He was watching TV, someone got into his house, drugged him, knocked him out, and tore the place up on their way out. Then they went to New York and stuffed him into a dog crate. It was a man who had captured him and left him sore.

This it was and nothing more.

But that didn't explain why his kidnapper would go to such a distance to kidnap him and then vanish. Or why he didn't remember the kidnapper. Or why Animal Control specifically had been singled out.

Or why Phil and jerry had expected anything to be in his crate at all.

He shook his head again as he got dressed. He needed a fresh pair of eyes on this.

"Nightwing, B01," the computer announced. Bruce, predictably, was typing away at the computer. Dick tiredly went up to him and pulled up a chair.

"Where were you?" The words were clipped and strained out of Bruce's mouth. Dick noted that even each keystroke was a short, jerky movement. He sighed.

"Whatever you called me for, I didn't get the alert. I was in New York."

Bruce's brows furrowed as his typing stopped. "Why were you in New York?"

"I don't know!" he exploded. In that one sentence, all of his frustrations and unanswered questions came out. "That's why I came here; I wanted your opinion."

This time, it was Bruce's turn to sigh, a silent invitation for him to start talking.

"I woke up in a dog crate this morning, without any clothes or any memory of last night. Apparently the Animal Control guy who put me in the crate was a little drunk and got me instead of a wolf."

Bruce's brows furrowed deeper as he processed the ludicrous information.

"I think someone got into my house last night and kidnapped me. They must've used some sort of gaseous drug to put me out and then they dragged me off to New York."

"What's the last thing you remember?" Bruce growled, resuming his typing. It appeared he was trying to hack into the CCTV system.

"I was watching TV in my room. I must've passed out and had a bad dream or something, next."

"What happened in the dream?" It wouldn't be the first time that one of his unconscious escapades had proven useful.

"That's what I'm still confused about. I was watching TV, like I said, and then it started getting… ridiculously hot. I got a headache later on, and when I went to get some painkillers for it, the second I got up, it was like I was being burned alive. I got to the bathroom, regardless, and when I did, I caught my reflection in the mirror. It looked…terrifying. Just…" he trailed off, staring into space.

Bruce looked away from his son, redirecting his attention to the screen in front of him.

"Here's the feed from a traffic camera outside your house.

The computer showed, for several minutes, the calm and peaceful exterior of Dick's lighted apartment.

"Could you turn it down? It's kind of loud," the boy complained. Bruce shot a passing glance at him, but complied, nonetheless.

Five minutes later, a glimpse of a shadow appeared in the window, gone in a split second. Three minutes after that, something smashed through it and tore off in a blur.

It wasn't until the twenty-sixth frame of the crash that they finally got a somewhat clear image of the form, but when they did, somehow neither could truthfully say they were all that shocked.

In the frame, falling from his window and dashing off at great speeds, was a big, black wolf.

Dick leaned his back against the chair, all of his carefully built theories crumbling down.

It hadn't been a dream. Oh, man, he was a werewolf.

A.N.: I couldn't think of a better way to end this. I hope you enjoyed the scene as much as I did. Then again, I think we all can enjoy a little bit of exposed Nightwing from time to time.

To the guest who reviewed on Bludhaven's location: very observant of you. However, when I checked it on the Young Justice Wiki, it said that Bludhaven was a suburb of Gotham, so I figured they'd at least be in the same state. Still, I'm impressed that you know what you do. Congratulations!

Thank you for your time, and GOD BLESS!