A/N: READ THIS FIRST!

Hey, you guys, you should know, I updated twice today. So, those of you who follow this, thank you for that, if you just went to the last chapter, which is this, go back one and read the eighth chapter first. Then, read this last chapter.

This for all of you guys and your wonderful reviews!


Let's make this, uhh, one week and two days before the and of the last chapter. Basically, it should be two days right before Dick died. Got it? Good.


Batman walks through the Arkham Asylum. The criminals either try to get as far away from him as possible, or press themselves against their cell walls trying to touch. Why? The Dark Knight had no idea.

He looks around in disdain, sighing as he ventures further into the corrupt building. A cacophonous screeching laughter becomes more and more distinct with each step.

A guard, who has been assigned to accompany the Bat dressed man, gestures to the door to their left. It has obviously been reinforced. Batman nods, and the guard takes out his ring full of keys. The only purple one is plucked from the mess, and he inserts into the lock.

After undoing the other locks, he steps aside to allow the Batman entrance. The hero's gloved hand steadily grips the door handle and pulls it open with a strong yank. It groans and creaks in protest, revealing the straight-jacketed Joker, bound to a chair, feet chained to the floor.

The psychopath's grin grows, basically reaching to his white ears, as the silhouette of his enemy comes into view. He leans as close as his restraints allows.

"Batsy! What a surprise! I certainly wasn't expecting to see you! Anything I can do, buddy?" He finishes with a cackle, throwing his head back.

Batman glares. Hard. "Just give me the antidote, Joker."

Joker feigns a confused expression. "Antidote? What antidote? I don't know what you're talking about! Are you imagining things? Wow! One day, you'll be stuck here, too! Just as crazy as the rest of us!"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about. Now just give me what I want so I can get away from you."

"Gasp! Language, mister! Some vigilante you are. That sounded an awful lot like a threat a second ago. Guards, arrest this man!" He tries to point at the Batman, but settles for the nub that's sticking out from his jacket and laughs again.

"Joker. I need the antidote to the poison you got into Robin. Give it to me."

"Batsy, Batsy, Batsy. Don't you listen? I didn't make an antidote. But only I know what would make the antidote."

"What do you want for it?" He feels somewhat pathetic for asking the Joker for anything.

"Hmm~? Wow, so you do have manners~! I only want one teensy weensy thing!"

He is starting to lose his patience. "What?" He growls out.

"Hmm, I don't know! How about...Robbie-poo's dead body? Good deal, huh?"

"This is pointless..." Batman grumbles.

"Something wrong~? Come on now, don't go saying I've got you stumped now!"

"Look. I'm just going to leave now, if there's no other way to change your mind." He growls this out through clenched teeth.

"Hmm...I don't know~! What about money!" His distorted voice reaches a screeching point as he squeals the last word.

"Money? How much?"

"What about, eight million dollars?"

"Fine. Just give me the legit antidote and the money's all yours."

"What! You mean that! Really! Happy day~! Oh, happy day!"

"So you're sure you know an antidote that will work?"

"Of course! Don't you trust me~?"

"No," Batman deadpans.

"Oh, you wound my poor heart~!" The clown frowns in mock sadness, grinning madly as he does so.

"That's fine."

"Oh! And let me and Harley out while you're at it! It's so dingy in here! I miss 'Ol Gotham!"

"...Fine."

The guard unchains the Joker and leads him down the halls, wincing as the psychopath screeches joyous words of nonsense in his ears. Batman follows and is left with his enemy in the cold science lab of the asylum.

Batman places a small vile of the Joker's poison, which he obtained through the blood samples from Dick, on a table beside him. With his guard up, he watches as the Joker walks around the room ridiculously.

The green-haired man skips and dances around the dimly-lit area, feet tapping against the cold cement annoyingly. He's managed to snag a white doctor's coat, the tail of it swishing slightly with his idiotic movements. His arms flail around spasmatically as he grabs viles and tubes from the shelves and tables, seeming unfocused as he pours the liquids together. He's humming 'Tiptoe Through The Tulips' in an off-key tune. He takes two dangerous poisons from the cabinet marked 'WARNING!' and before Batman can react, he has poured a good amount of the toxins in his odd concoction.

"What the Hell are you doing?" Batman is at his side immediately, interrogating the clown frantically.

Joker frowns. "Yeesh. Batty-Bats, I said I knew the antidote. Tru-ust me!"

Batman returns to his brooding watching corner, begrudgingly, making sure to keep a more careful eye.

Joker jumps around a few times, looking around before snatching one transparent acid from another shelf, giddily pouring it in. With excited eyes, he watches as the purplish mix bubbles, turning orange, then forest green, then finally settling for being a bluish-lavenderish shade, somewhat clear. He whoops and Batman walks over.

"Have you finished?"

Joker smiles eerily. "Yeesss!"

Batman stares at the claimed 'antidote' and pours it onto the Joker's purple toxin, watching as it bubbles a bit, making a 'pssss' noise and both liquids disappear.

"Will this have any affect on blood?"

"Huh? Oh, I don't know!"

Batman groans. He pulls out another small vile, it's filled with Richard's blood, which also has the toxins in it, and pours the antidote into that as well. He watches as it lets out another hiss, the blood returning back to it's normal red, in contrast to it's previous blackened color.

Taking it under examination in a microscope, the man dressed in black finds the blood completely pure, as it was before. He sighs in relief.

"Alright, Joker. This seems safe. Are there any harmful later reactions, or long time effects?"

"Yeesh, don't you trust me? Well, he may be really tired, but that wears off in a day or so. Besides, even if it did, I'd have made a safer version anyways. Our nighttime fights would be sooo boring without the little birdie~! Well, if you'll excuse me, I gots to get my honey." He walks to the door, skipping merrily as he does. Before he actually makes his way out, he turns to the Batman. "Ooh! Give little Robbie a kiss! From Uncle J!"

Batman grimaces, as he makes his own way out, antidote now stored in his utility belt. He explains to the guards what he has unwillingly promised the Joker.

Reaching the BatMobile, he drives to the BatCave hurriedly. Having Alfred examine the mix, just for safety measures.


In Dick's room, the Young Justice team, plus Roy, are diligently watching the sleeping boy on the too-large bed, waiting for him to wake. He tired out after running, attempting to catch Wally, who had playfully stolen Dick's mask, plastering to his own face in pure amusement.

The heart monitor beeps loudly, and there is a strange sense of comfort from the machine.

Dick's chest moves up gently, each breath low and ragged. He's shivering slightly under his comforter. He barely moves, almost completely still, unconscious.

Wally grimaces as he takes another good look at the too-small body of his brother and Roy sighs, sounding defeated. The team is silent as they think of a way to end this uncomfortable silence.

Bruce slams the door loudly as he makes his entrance into his ward's bedroom, Alfred following diligently. Each head turns to them, expectantly, anxiously. Dick opens his eyes groggily, groaning slightly as he stirs, barely awake.

Bruce strides to the side of Dick's bed, crouching down to get within eye level with his son. He whispers to him softly, "Dick. Dick, come on, chum, you have to get up now."

Dick rubs at his sapphire eyes tiredly, mumbling what sounds like 'I'm tired.' Bruce eventually coaxes the boy into consciousness, sitting him up gently. The team is now curious. What could the Dark Knight be up to?

Alfred is at Bruce's side, preparing a just cleaned syringe , handing it to his eldest charge. Bruce takes it silently, opening the medical equipment. He pours the blue-lavender liquid into it, measuring carefully. Richard watches, confused and curious, yet feeling oh-so drained, wanting desperately to evaluate his situation, but also to return to his blissful rest.

With an alcoholic wipe, Bruce cleans at the inside of Dick's elbow, where he knows there is major blood vein. He inserts the tip of the needle quickly. Dick doesn't react, having felt nothing at all. Injecting the antidote, Bruce sets the needle down.

"How are you feeling?" The playboy-billionaire questions nervously.

Dick repeats what he said earlier. "I'm tired..." With this, he burrows back into the promising warmth of his plush bed and pillow, snuggling deeper into his comforter.

"Alright." He makes his exit, signaling for Alfred to follow him. Without another word.

As confused by the scene as they are, the team decide not to delve into it. It's probably one of those medicines that doctors are suggesting could make him last a bit longer.


The next day, Dick continues to sleep through most of it, his essential daily nutrients being given to him via IV. He wakes in the late afternoon, around 5:30 P.M. The team questions him on how he feels, if he needs something, etc. Basically, just about his condition in general.

He answers back nonchalantly. "I'm fine. I don't think I need anything. Nothing hurts. I remember all of you. You're holding up three fingers, Wally. My name is Dick Grayson-Wayne. I'm thirteen. I'm in my room, at the Manor." His voice is still as quiet as it's been these past few weeks, but it feels stronger. The youngest sighs, exasperated at how frantic and worried his teamates can be at times.

Throughout the night, Dick finds himself feeling a bit more awake than he's been lately. Bruce and Alfred check in on how he's doing every now and again, sonce the team has left.

He finds himself not in any pain. He's not extremely cold or overly hot. His appetite is still lacking that night, though, it's nothing to worry about. He's not as tired as usual. He sleeps a little later than yesterday, and wakes up early the following morning.

Okay. Now, he's really curious.

He makes his way to Bruce's study without trouble, amazed at that, and enters. Bruce turns at the sound of his door being opened, but relaxes when he sees that it's Dick.

"Hello, Dick. Is something the matter?" He's a bit worried about the response.

"Uh, yes...and no. I mean, there really isn't, but it's got me curious, is all..."

Bruce smiles gently, so it was noticeably working. "And what is it that's got you curious?"

"I'm getting...better. It's no problem, but I thought I was dying..."

Both wince at the reminder, but Bruce is quick to brush it off. "Ah. I'm glad to see it's working."

Dick perks up. "What? What's working?"

"Remember, two days ago, when I woke you up, and injected you with something?"

"Uhh, sorta. I was really tired."

"It was the antidote."

"What? Really? Not that that's bad or anything, I just...really?"

"Yes, really. From the Joker."

Dick blanches at the villain's name. "Ugh. Well, I guess he finally did something right..."

"Yes. If you feel tired at any time, feel free to rest. It's an after-effect to the antidote."

"Oh. All right. Thanks, Bruce. Wait. Does the team know?"

"Yes," Bruce replies calmly, lying, so his son won't spoil the surprise.

"Okay. Bye, Bruce." He walks out his father's study, sighing in relief at finding out that nothing is wrong, and that he will pull through.


Bruce and Alfred notice the significant differences very quickly.

Dick seems more energetic. His random bouts of dizziness, as well as his headaches, have decreased tremendously. He is regaining his appetite, as small as it may be. The healthy color returns to his skin, and his body is beginning to fill out in all the right places again. Everything is going back to normal.


Passing into the seventh week, the teams is so very anxious. They seem to be spending less and less time with their little bird, as things have been piling up from all the time spent with Dick. And the short times they are around, the boy is always asleep.

It worries them to no end. They are unaware of the antidote and aren't there to see the major improvements it brings.

The team and Roy knock on the polished wooden front doors of the Manor. They stare at the decorative carvings upon the outside furniture before light footsteps are heard. Alfred.

They are surprised, to say the least, when the doors swing open wildly and is Dick is beaming at them widly. At their befuddled expressions, he, himself, becomes confused.

He looks around and behind himself, as if making sure of his surroundings. "...What? You guys act like you saw a two headed...Batman. That is scary."

They continue to gape. He shrugs casually, stepping to the side. When they remain at their spots, he speaks up.

"Well? Aren't you guys coming in? Alfred just finished making lunch. Come on!" He finishes in a childish whine.

Again, no movement from his teammates. He huffs. In a too-large white T-shirt, probably Bruce's, and black boxer shorts, he walks out, around his team. From behind, he spreads his arms out, and attempts to push them all inside on his own.

When that fails, he huffs again and pulls them all in by the wrists. It's super effective! Finally, the young Gothamite can shut the door.

He stares at them expectantly, one hand resting on his cocked hips. "Why didn't you come in?" He's not honestly mad at them. He just like to be a bit childish every now and again. Okay, really childish, sometimes.

"..D-Dick..." Wally manages.

"I don't know if you were just pointing out the obvious, which is my name, or insulting me. For your sake, Walls, I'll imagine that it was the former."

Roy steps up hesitantly. He walks over to his youngest brother. One strong hand is one Dick's shoulder and the other is attempting to go through his stomach. Dick, feeling odd and uncomfortable, jumps back.

"Are you guys okay...?"

"Are you...really Dick?"

"Uh, yeah! Nobody can pull this off," he finishes, gesturing to his entire self.

Wally smiles and puts an arm around Dick, shaking the boy a bit. The rest of the team have managed to get over their shock-paralysis and follow the duo to the dining room. Their questions dying in their throats.

Bruce Wayne greets them with a casual nod. As does Alfred. Dick sits, watching the team strangely. They stand at the doorway, awkwardly.

"Hey, Dick...?"

"Yeah?" His voice is more light and upbeat.

"...What...happened to you?"

"What? Is there something on my face?" His fingers run over his face, checking himself. After double-checking on a nearby mirror, he grins. "Nope! My face is fine!"

"That's not what we meant."

"Well then, what did you mean, Roy?"

"You. You're...healthy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dick is obviously feigning a hurt expression, and it makes Bruce and Alfred smile.

"Whuh...I...You...You've been sleeping everytime we come over! And it's the seventh week! And now you're all okay!"

"Wait..." Dick turns to Bruce questioningly. "...I thought..you..told them..."

"Wait. What didn't he tell u-"

Bruce cuts Wally off. "No. I just didn't want you to spoil the surprise."

"Uh...okay?"

Wally interjects. "What going on!"

Bruce smiles in his direction, and Wally is honestly feeling quite terrified right now. 'Meep'-ing, the speedster hides behind the redheaded archer.

"Dick is fine."

"How is that possible...?"

"Amazingly...the Joker saved his life."

"But he's the one who put it in danger!"

"I know. But in the end, he undid what he had done."

The team is frozen once again. Dick pokes at Wally, half-amused, half-worried. There was no more bad news. And there was Alfred's cooking on the table. Why wasn't Wally attacking it?

Dick squeals as, suddenly, he is engulfed in the arms of his team. He stiffens, before hugging back. He tries his very best, to catch every word they say, but they keep overlapping each other's voices.

"Oh my gosh! You're okay! I di-"

"I knew you'd be able to p-"

"You scared us half to death! But, I'm so happy that yo-"

"I'm still going to kill that basta-"

"I can't begin to explain what I-"

"It's so great to know that everything's alri-"

Dick just lets them ramble on. He appreciates how happy they are, but this is sort of cutting off his air supply now.

"..Guys.." he rasps out weakly.

They instantly release him, letting apology after apology leave them.

Dick accepts each apology, managing to end his teamates' incessant vindictions.

He offers lunch to them and they accept. And there are smiles. Real, genuine smiles that mean everything's going to be better.

And it doesn't matter that Dick nearly died. Because he's alive now. And it doesn't matter that they almost ran out of time, because now they have all the time in the world. To be with Dick.

END


A/N: This is for you guys! As a thank you for all your wonderful reviews and as my own apology, for making you guys cry.

I finished it. Cool. In my opinion, I think the ending could've used something more, but I thought you guys would be really happy with updates, so yeah.

Please review and vote on a poll I have up~!