Bruce Wayne ran through his garden.

He had never been a fan of these kinds of chases. As much as he enjoyed spending time with his best friend in the world, as he referred to her at the time, when she made an attempt to get him to chase her, it was easily tiring.

But she had found something, and he hadn't gotten a good look at it. It had been enough to make her, "Ooooh," and if it interested her, it interested him.

"Weiss!" he called as he ran into the greenhouse. "Lemme see!"

He stepped foot into the greenhouse, and slowed into a walk. His blue eyes surveyed the room, searching for his friend.

Then, his ears started to pick up a feminine chuckle. He ducked down, meeting the pale blue eyes of Weiss Schnee.

Weiss gave him a smug smile, making no attempt to run away again, much to Bruce's relief.

"Let me see," he said.

Weiss shook her head, that sly smile still not leaving her face.

"Finders, keepers," she said, "and I found it."

"In my garden," Bruce added.

Weiss shrugged a silent, "Fair point," and opened her cupped hands, revealing an arrowhead.

Bruce looked from the stone back up to Weiss, and his lips curled into a sly smile. In an instant, Weiss realized what he was planning. But before she could close her hands to hide the stone, Bruce snatched it from her hands, running out of the greenhouse faster than Weiss had ran in.

"Finders, keepers!" he shouted.

The moment he exited the mansion, his eyes settled on the old well. It was broken, nothing but a ring of old cement bricks, the hole in the middle nailed shut by wood. His parents had never warned him about the well. In hindsight it was probably because the house was so big, the backyard so wide, it had slipped his mind.

But in the moment, that had never come to mind. Bruce stepped straight into the well, kneeling over the wood, and hiding behind the bricks.

He peered over for only a moment to watch as Weiss stepped out from the greenhouse, looking around for him.

"Bruce?" she called.

The boy smirked, mentally praising himself for the perfect spot he'd chosen.

But the smirk faded in an instant as the wood beneath his feet collapsed into the well, taking him down with them.

The impact came to him in an instant. The pain left him not injured, but paralyzed as his mind struggled to comprehend what had happened.

He didn't see Weiss peer into the well, though he did hear her call down to him.

"Bruce?!"

He paid no attention to her voice, even when he heard it fade as it called to the house.

"Winter! Mr. Alfred!"

Bruce could only focus on one of two things. At first, what he chose to focus on was the pain. The pain in his back, but especially in his feet after they had hit the ground below hard.

But after a moment, his focus shifted to the second thing. Before his line of vision was a hole in the wall, which led into a shadowed cave. Inside, he could hear a chirping. At first it was soft, barely noticeable. But, the more Bruce stared into the cave, the louder the chirping became, and the more his fear began to build.

Suddenly, a swarm of bats burst from the cave, and the chirping was deafening, and surrounded his ears. The bats flew up towards the top of the well, but not before scratching at Bruce.

He screamed, his state of paralysis vanishing the same instant the bats had appeared, as his hands waved wildly, batting at only a few of the winged mammals. But with every bat he managed to hit, it seemed ten more scratched at him.

The swarm of bats that flew from the cave seemed as if it didn't end, the attack leaving Bruce's body covered in scars.

He could feel one last bat landing on his shoulder, razor sharp fangs sinking into his neck.

Blue eyes snapped open as Bruce Wayne awoke.

He almost expected to see the hole at the top of the well. Instead, he saw the stone roof of his cell.

There was almost a sense of relief as his mind pieced together where he was. It was odd how fond he'd grown of this prison. He'd come here with almost no opinion on the matter, as he had since he had left his home. But not too long into the time he'd spent here, he already viewed it as a home.

"Did you have a dream?" his cellmate asked.

Bruce still didn't know the man's name. But they were more like acquaintances than friends. He hadn't made any friends here. Not that he cared at all. The man didn't know his name, and he didn't seem interested in sharing his own.

His mind piecing together the question that had been asked, he shook his head to answer. A hand reached for his neck, feeling that bite mark he had received so many years ago, when he had learned what fear was.

"Nightmare . . ."