A birthday gift for a friend. Sorry it took so long!

Disclaimer: I do not own Young Jusice or the characters.

Seven teens sat anxiously in the game room as the negotiations raged on next door. Seven out of the usual eight either sat in tense contemplation or paced in worry—in fear—for their missing member. The silence was unnerving; nobody was willing to speak, to discuss the events that led them here, and Batman was a calm negotiator. Even in such desperate situations, he always maintained the cool, aloof air. He would negotiate calmly, possibly get Robin out of—

"Goddammit, Joker! What the hell do you want?" Everybody jumped up in fright; a few girly shrieks were uttered. Batman never lost his cool…

They didn't hear the response, but it couldn't have been pretty. No matter how much the walls muffled sound, the awful laugh still reached their ears, still chilled their blood. Zatanna shivered, pulling her coat in tighter; she really hated the Joker, especially now.

The transmission was terminated. Nobody was quite sure how the Joker had gotten onto their secure line, but nobody questioned it. It was their only lifeline at the moment, the only way they had any idea how he was doing.

Robin.

They heard Batman's footsteps pound away from the communications room, a distinct change from his usual soundless stalking. It unnerved them even further. They knew Batman loved Robin like a nephew, maybe even like a son; it physically hurt them to realize that no matter how bad they felt, the Dark Knight probably felt 3000 times worse.

The silence pounded in their ears. It was suffocating, crushing them despite the relatively open space. Tension was running high, though no words were uttered and no mental links established. They could all barely look at each other without feeling utter contempt for their ineptitudes. Failure had landed Robin with the most dangerous villain Gotham's hell could spit up. Their failure

Her failure.

Wally couldn't stand it anymore. He finally stopped pacing, turning on Zatanna. "It's your fault," he whispered accusingly. His voice was croaky and hoarse, gross-sounding from disuse. "Robin's captured by the biggest psycho on this side of the Atlantic and it's all your fucking fault!"

Zatanna only looked up at him, her eyes blank, while everyone else jumped to her defense. "Kid!" Kaldur protested. "We cannot place the blame on Zatanna. We all are to blame for our team mate's—"

"Don't even try to lie to me," Kid Flash laughed bitterly. "And don't try to kid yourselves. If she had just protected his blind side like she was supposed to, we wouldn't be in this—"

"Wally!" M'gann finally jumped in. "I can't believe you. Yes that was her job—"

"Her only job."

"Look, Kid Douche," Artemis interjected, "we may have all had our assignments. But we all knew Robin was the most important part and we all tried to protect him. Last I remember, you weren't at his side trying to defend both you and him with a giant gash in your face."

"Look, guys—" Zatanna started.

"Rob is my best friend!" Wally hissed passionately. "I was protecting him. Maybe I wasn't by his side, but I was taking on at least three guys twice my size, all with guns."

"Yeah, like we weren't?" Conner was getting pissed; his hands were clenched into meaty fists. "Like Robin doesn't mean anything to the rest of us? Like we all aren't giving ourselves hell because we lost him?" He was standing now, stalking towards Wally.

"Enough!" Kaldur finally demanded. Everybody looked to him expectantly, desperately in need of a leader but equally refusing to admit it. "It does not matter whose fault it is. It does not matter that the mission was a failure because of our own incompetence. What matters is that our team mate is in danger, and arguing amongst ourselves isn't going to—"

"You're wrong," Zatanna finally spoke. Though she was quiet, they all heard her. Seeing as she had their attention, she continued on. "Wally's right; it's my fault that we're in this situation. I should have done better." She stood up and walked towards the garage entrance. "I don't want to stick around. Text me when something happens." She gently closed the door behind her. Choosing one of the less flashy motorcycles, she revved out of Mount Justice.

She drove for a short period before ditching the bike in an empty lot. The full moon shined overhead, illuminating the hilltop. The city roared on only a few miles away, bringing a shadow of life into the deserted place. Zatanna gently picked up a stick from the ground and started tracing into the hard-packed dirt. The tracings were random, aimless in their paths. She started writing into the ground, hoping the words would make sense. Kill. Take. Save. She tried to empty her mind, convince herself that this was meaningless, but deep in the recesses of her brain, she knew what was going to happen next.

It was just past midnight when she finally dropped the stick. Standing up from her crouch, she stretched her hands over her head, releasing all the tension from being hunched over with a stick in her hand. After popping her shoulders, she started a spell. Looking down at the ground, she picked out the words she needed, careful to pronounce them exactly, or God knows what would happen to her.

"Ekat em ot eht s'rekoJ tuoedih!" She closed her eyes as she felt the wind around her pick up speed, slowly building up to a windstorm. She hoped that her confidence was enough to get her there, that she had crafted a clear enough spell, that she would have the strength to go the distance. She felt the typical sapping of energy, slightly reassuring her that she was at least going somewhere.

She felt the storm calm around her. Tentatively, she opened her eyes, praying that she hadn't landed at some abandoned warehouse. She lucked out—or was out of luck, depending on your perspective. She stood in front of an abandoned circus. The grounds were littered with broken bottles and outdated flyers. She turned around, trying to find any indication of her location, but this tent was setup miles away from any notable landmarks. It was warm outside, but the place sent chills down her spine.

Realization at what she was planning to do almost made her turn back in fear. Teleporting here had been one of Zatanna's greatest feats of magic, but it had left her feeling incredibly drained. She stepped away from the dirty red and yellow tent, fearful of what lay ahead. But the thought of Robin somewhere in there—Robin broken and bloody like they had seen on the transmission—replaced her courage with anger. She boldly pushed back the tent flap, stepping into the Joker's den.

"tceteD efil," she muttered quickly. She had finally perfected that detection spell, the one that had failed her only hours ago. Closing her eyes, she allowed the world to come crashing in, showing her all the life it contained in this dead-looking area. Crickets chirped loudly, competing with skittering mice. A few ne'er-do-wells a few miles off; two larger, older adults; Robin. Worse so, the Joker.

She continued forward, trying to orient herself in the dark. "Joker?" she called out tentatively. "I'm here to make you a deal."

"Is that so, sweet cheeks?" She jumped in fright. The voice echoed around her, probably projected by a sound system; despite knowing this, it was still terrifying. She flashed around, trying to determine the source. "What could you possibly offer?"

She gulped, pushing her fear to the pit of her stomach, unblocking the choking dread that blocked her throat. "Release Robin," she answered bravely.

"Boy Blunder?" A piercing giggle. Zatanna tried not to drop in fear and cry. "Why would I give up my favorite toy just now?" It was like he was behind her and around her all at the same time. She closed her eyes, blocking the dancing shadows from her view.

"I-I offer something more valuable."

"And what could that be?"

"Me." No immediate answer. No giggles. No indication that the Joker was still listening. "Joker?"

"I'm listening." No echo. He was right behind her. She barely stifled a shriek as she turned to face him. "And why would I want you?" He laid a finger on her nose; it was cold and dry, and it felt so wrong on her hot face.

"I-I can do magic. I'm—"she cleared her throat, "I'm the greatest magician in the world."

If it were possible, his laugh was even creepier up close. "You?" he practically shrieked. "You're the reason Batman's little bird is locked up here in the first place! You're no more competent than him—and less flexible to boot!"

Zatanna almost ran away, almost decided to forget everything that had just transpired. But she was too deep in, too far gone. "But I'm a girl. An oh so helpless female." She forced a swoon, nearly tripping over her feet. "Please let Robin go! I beg of you." She could hear Artemis yelling at her within her head, telling her to cut the degrading crap. She couldn't; she was out of any other ideas. Besides, the Joker might be insane enough to take the bait—

"Interesting proposal." She was torn between utter terror and a strange sense of relief. "It might be fun to see Batsy squirm. Nope, wouldn't want one of his little babies to die on the job, would he?" He laughed again, and Zatanna swore that a small part of her soul died. "Rodolf, Arman, take the girl away."

"No!" She couldn't stop the outburst.

"What was that, girlie?" He leaned in disgustingly close; she could barely see him.

"R-release Robin first. I-It's not like he can save me." She looked away. God, I can't go back now.

The Joker looked like he was about to strike her down; Zatanna already braced herself. Instead, she felt spittle on her face as he laughed at her.

"Boy, she's a feisty one! Gonna be so much fun to break! Go get the brat; I'll even grant them a brief goodbye. But brief!" That damn creepy Joker laugh filled the large tent. How could everything be so fucking funny to him?

Zatanna felt herself being shoved forward. She tentatively stepped forward, egged on by their not-so-gentle prodding. One of them roughly grabbed her shoulder, stopping her in front of a door. Though her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she still couldn't tell where she was. She heard a click and the squeak of an opening door. She was suddenly blinded by the harsh light that emanated from a single fluorescent bulb hanging from the ceiling; at the center of the spotlight lay Robin—broken, bruised, beaten, but breathing.

She rushed forward, carefully cupping his face with her hand. His skin was hot and bloodstained. She tried to sit him up, and he groaned in protest. He tried to wrestle away from her, but she grabbed him carefully by the shoulders, gently shaking him into consciousness.

"Robin?" she said carefully. She couldn't see his eyes flutter open, but his face twitched. She felt his muscles tense, and she sighed in relief.

"Zee? What are you—get out!"

"Listen, it's going to be alright," she said quickly, ignoring his confused expression. "Get back to Batman as soon as you can. No, get to a hospital first. Patch up quick, then tell Batman what happened."

"Zee, what's going on?"

"I love you so much; it's totally worth it."

"Zatanna?" She leaned in and kissed him quickly. His lips were chapped and dusty, and he tasted of blood and sweat; it was the most memorable kiss of her life. Unsure of how to respond, Robin kissed back, taking in Zatanna's sweet scent, knowing that something wasn't right. Though it physically pained him to do so, he lifted his arm, running his fingers through her silky hair.

She broke the kiss; tears were streaming down her face. "I love you so much. Never forget that." Robin could feel the blood drain from his face as he realized what was going on. Before he could respond, the door burst open again. The two henchmen tromped in. One grabbed Robin by the scruff of his grimy cape and dragged him away.

"No! No no no no NO!" he protested. He vainly tried to reach out for Zatanna, and she reached towards him as well. The tears were now full-blown waterworks. She let out a choked sob that sounded vaguely like "Robin!" before she felt a scarf come around her mouth. She tried to spit it out, but this guy was a professional; the scarf restricted her speaking and mouth breathing without interfering with her nose too much. He roughly pulled her up and dragged her out of the lit room.

Thrust back into the darkness, she couldn't see; she could only hear the fading sounds of Robin's protests and screams. She wanted to break away from this ugly ape and run after the love of her life. She wanted both of them to escape, either both alive or both dead. However, Zatanna had resigned herself to the fact that indeed only one of them would make it out for certain, and that was Robin. She had her chance, and she refused it.

The thug dragged her into the moonlit lot. He didn't seem to care that he was hurting her, seeing as every large rock and broken bottle seemed to be in their path, but he kept pulling through. He bodily threw her into her holding pen, a room of mirrors. It was octagonal, and all the walls were sparkling clean mirrors; even the floor and ceiling was made of mirrors. The room was well illuminated by lights on the walls and ceiling.

Before he left, the thug tied her arms behind her back. The strain on her shoulders set her arms on fire. "Sayonara, sweetheart," he sneered creepily as he left.

Zatanna looked around, faced with her raggedy reflection. Her pupils were dilated from the dark outside, but they were retracting at the sudden light. The white of her costume was dirtied with mud, and her hair was a rat's nest. She tried to turn away, but everywhere she looked, she was faced with her reflection.

Faced with her decisions.

Faced with her failure.

She started laughing. It was muffled against the gag, but soon enough her body was convulsing in laughter to the point it hurt. Joker gas she deduced to herself. He meant to kill her via her own insanity.

After the past hour, she was probably halfway there already

She struggled to stand up without using her arms. From within, she tried to regain control over herself, but the gas was working. All she could do was bunker down deeper within herself and stave off the toxin from taking her completely for as long as possible. The insanity was getting to her though; she could see it in her eyes. Her reflection turned back at her, half crouched like she was, laughing at her, mocking her.

Stop mocking me! she cried inside, running towards her. The mirror cracked slightly, but the distorted Zatanna continued to laugh, tears streaming down her face. Zatanna continued running at the mirror, laughing as the fracture expanded. Her right shoulder stung from the many cuts, and the cold air inside wasn't helping either.

Ha. Hahaha HA! Who's funny now? she thought viciously to herself, ramming the mirror one more time. It shattered, shards falling to the ground. Fine grains of glass stuck in the wounds, causing Zatanna to hiss in pain. One reflection was gone but seven more faced her, judging her. She stared into her own eyes, seeing the insanity, the sheer madness to which the Joker was trying to drive her.

Oh God, she told herself, the madness clearing. Somewhere, whether by pain or force of will, she found the power to resist the Joker gas, at least for a little longer. She was acutely aware of the toxin creeping into her pores though. Quickly, she sunk to her knees, grabbing a large shard of glass. She started sawing away at the ropes around her wrists. It was awkward and inefficient, and more often than not she slit her own wrists. Whenever the shard broke because she sawed too hard, she grabbed another one blindly. She didn't mind; the pain cleared her brain.

She wasn't sure how long it took—minutes? hours?—but the ropes finally fell away. She quickly brought her arms to her sides, stretching them out and letting out a sigh of relief. She brought her hands up to her mouth to undo the gag, but she stopped before she undid the knot. If I increase my exposure to this, I'm screwed. Even so, who says I'll be sane enough to cast a spell? She brought her hands to her face, examining the cuts. Looking at them made them throb more, and she felt a hot surge to her wrists.

There may be another way…She grabbed a shard. But will it even work. There was no time to reflect on that though. She brought the glass to her left wrist, stabbing the sharpest part into the pale blue vein. She bit down on the gag, barely holding back tears as she dragged it down her forearm, letting the dark crimson flood loose. She let the blood pool a little before wiping some onto her fingers. Quickly, she started writing onto the floor. It was like a sick recreation of her childhood. She used to write spells with her finger paints when she was younger.

Eerf em. Free me.

The walls exploded outwards, sparkling her with small glass shards; they didn't compare with the stinging pains already in her extremities. The roof exploded upwards and outwards, totally clearing her of any falling debris. Zatanna smiled weakly, exhaustion quickly overwhelming her. But she wasn't out of the dog house yet; she still had to escape.

Still had to complete her mission.

But she was too tired. She barely had enough energy to stay awake, let alone cast another spell. She sorely wished that she had taken a granola bar or something. It was irresponsible on her part; she had been mildly aware that it would be a draining night.

She heard an angered cry from the tent—the Joker, no doubt about it. "No! Nonononononono NO!" She saw a tent flap fly open, a tall figure stomping in her direction. She so wanted to fall asleep, but she'd be damned if she stopped now.

She worked at the gag around her mouth, sliding it down around her neck. She burst into a fit of giggles. It was as she feared: the Joker toxin was getting to her. Not yet. Holding her arms into the air, blood dripping from her wrists, she uttered one more spell.

"Llik eht rekoj," she managed to call between giggles. A sudden drain washed over her, and she collapsed to the ground. Her eyes closed, and she fell into a deep sleep, dreaming of a great victory celebration when she woke up.

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The lot was still for nearly four hours before the first responders arrived. Robin stared down in horror from the Bioship. The abandoned circus grounds were decimated, littered by glass and wood; oddly enough, the tent remained untouched.

"No," Robin whispered lowly to himself. The rest of the Team seemed to be having the same reaction.

After limping and hitchhiking to the nearest zeta beam transport (those poor college kids had the shock of their lives), Robin had passed out in front of the Team, Wally barely zooming forward in time to catch him. Batman, who had been in the middle of a communiqué with the Joker, immediately terminated the signal at the sight of his adopted son. He was hooked onto life support, and all manners of healing were worked on his body.

After an forty-seven minutes exactly, he woke up, screaming, "Zatanna!" Any further outcries were stopped by the sheer pain of moving or speaking. Regardless, he attempted to detach himself from the machines so he could debrief everyone, but he was forced back onto the gurney, where he relayed his story multiple times to Batman, Black Canary, and the Team.

As soon as he heard the story, Batman started tracking Robin's path and turned up detectors for supernatural energy. To his surprise, there was a huge spike forty miles outside of Las Vegas. Zatanna. It has to be her.

The teenagers and Batman piled onto the Bioship. Despite everybody's protests, Robin rolled onto the ship in a wheelchair. He wanted to be there in person to see the damage he had inadvertently caused. I'm not worth it he repeated in his head. I wasn't worth all this.

There had been many predictions about what was awaiting them, but the scene below blew even their wildest predictions. As soon as they landed, Robin wheeled himself out of the ship, running over Wally's toes. The speedster didn't protest though; this was far more important than any petty argument they might have.

The first discovery was the body—Joker's body. They found him lying on the ground, barely alive. With disgust, Batman pitched the unresponsive criminal into the back of the Bioship, sealing him into a claustrophobic cage. It didn't matter though; he wasn't waking up any time soon.

Artemis found Zatanna. She was crumpled to the ground, blood streaming from multiple lacerations around her body. Though she was unconscious, her body was convulsing, Joker toxin forcing the demonic movements. With the help of Superboy, they got her onto the Bioship, hooking her up to life support. They weren't sure if she'd make it, despite their best efforts.

In the middle of it all, Robin sat in his wheelchair, staring into the setting moon. The night was cool, and the landscape was empty. Everything felt dead, though it wasn't. Robin felt dead, though he wasn't.

I wasn't worth this. Zatanna, what have you done?

I'll just leave this here. Please do not Alert this story because it will never update ever again. Please review, whether you liked it or not. Constructive criticism is a gift.