"Robin? You okay?"
The voice sounded muffled and thick, as though coming from a long way off. Dick cracked an eyelid, winced at the bright light, and decided it would be better to stay in bed. Let Bruce handle whatever new emergency had come up... he needed to sleep. Bruce didn't seem to be able to take a hint, and started shaking Dick's shoulder.
"Come on, snap out of it."
No, he didn't want to get up! Dick made an effort, swallowed hard, and told Bruce exactly how tired he was feeling.
"Ermph."
Okay, so that didn't work out so well.
"I think he's waking up!"
And that definitely wasn't Bruce Wayne's voice. Reluctantly, Robin opened his eyes, and a blurry, overexposed image of Commissioner Gordon assaulted his eyes.
"Commish?" he slurred, rubbing his eyes groggily. Okay, so the mask was still on. That was good.
"Robin," Commissioner Gordon said. "Thank goodness. You were attacked by Poison Ivy."
"Scarecrow," Robin added, his vision still blurring at the edges. The room was slowly coming into focus- the shattered window to his left, the sterile whiteness of a hospital corridor, the blinding fluorescence of the overhead lights. Behind Gordon, a hulking, trench-coat clad figure was snapping pictures left and right. The brilliance of the flash made Robin want to close his eyes again.
"That's right," Gordon said. "We think they broke in to spring the Mad Hatter. Or at least the Scarecrow did."
"Hatter's gone?"
"Eh... his room's empty, and there's no way he could have snapped the handcuffs," Gordon replied. "You all right? You don't look so good."
"I'm fine," Robin groaned, sitting up and immediately regretting it. Gordon grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. "Eh... 'fine' is a relative term, y'know."
The Commissioner opened his mouth to reply, but was rudely interrupted.
"Well, well, looks like Sleeping Beauty's finally awake," Bullock jeered, crouching next to Commissioner Gordon. "I guess not even the Boy Wonder is invulnerable to Poison Ivy. Where's Batman, anyway? I'd a' thought he'd have shown up by now. Oh yeah, Commish, here's the pictures you wanted."
"Thanks," Gordon replied, taking the hefty detective's camera. "Did you and Montoya sort out what happened yet?"
Bullock scowled.
"We're working on it," he muttered, and retreated. Robin winced and shook his head.
"Someone's in a good mood," he commented.
"Yeah, well someone's trying to figure out who murdered Jeffrey Aster," Commissioner Gordon replied.
"Jeffrey Aster? The businessman?"
"That's right. He was here for heart trouble, I think- across the hall from Jervis Tetch. Maybe you'd better come take a look," Gordon suggested. Robin sighed, closed his eyes, and slowly got to his feet. His head was starting to clear, but he could also feel the beginnings of a massive headache forming. Just perfect.
"So what happened?" Robin asked, stepping over the broken glass as he headed down the hallway. "The fear toxin cause another heart attack?"
"I wish it were that simple," Gordon sighed. "Aster was strangled to death."
Robin stopped short.
"Strangled? That doesn't sound like Scarecrow or Poison Ivy's MO," he said.
"No," Gordon agreed. "It... doesn't."
There was a slight hesitation in the aging Commissioner's voice. Robin glanced at him sideways and raised his eyebrows slightly.
"Is there something you're not telling me?"
Detective Bullock slammed the cell door shut, hard. The barred iron door snapped shut, and Renee Montoya stepped up to lock it.
"There's your murderer, Commish," Bullock boomed, gesturing broadly at Gotham PD's newest prisoner. "Bruce Wayne. Who'd have thought?"
Inside the cell, Bruce Wayne groaned and slumped against the cement wall, his right hand going to his head. Robin gasped and stepped back. The billionaire had changed his hospital gown for an orange jumpsuit, and looked haggard and unkempt. Sweat beaded his forehead, his hair stuck out at impossible angles, and his face appeared to be swelling slightly from Poison Ivy's spore dust.
"Gordon, there has to be some mistake," Robin said, turning towards his friend. "I know Wayne- he would never-"
"That's what they all say," Bullock scoffed, manuevering his toothpick from the left side of his mouth to his right. "'Oh, officer, Johnny would never do such horrible things.' 'I know this woman, she wouldn't harm a fly.' Ya never can tell with criminals." He shook his head. "Wayne had motive, he had means, he had opportunity. We got a statement from a, uh, Miss Mercy Graves that Wayne hated Aster's guts. Then, when Scarecrow and Poison Ivy broke in an' flooded the place with fear gas- and that toxic spore stuff- Wayne had the perfect distraction. He snuck out of his room, strangled Jeffrey Aster, and then collapsed on his way back to bed. We even found the murder weapon in his room. What more do ya want?"
"Well, first of all," Robin broke in, "what was Scarecrow doing at the hospital with Poison Ivy?"
"They broke in to spring Tetch," countered Bullock, folding his arms across his chest. "Least, that was Scarecrow's motive. Ivy... well, I dunno, maybe she was casing the joint, gonna come back later and steal something."
"Yeah," Robin said. "I'm sure that's exactly what it was."
Bullock's heavy fist slammed into the Commissioner's desk.
"You got a better idea?" he growled.
"Now, Bullock," Gordon intervened. "Robin does have a point." Then, turning towards the boy vigilante, "But all the evidence does seem to point to Bruce Wayne as the primary suspect. If you have a better theory of what happened at the hospital, or you have any evidence that might acquit Wayne, we'd be more than happy to hear it."
Robin ground his teeth.
"I'll find the evidence," he snapped. "I'll find it, and I'll bring it back."
"Good," Commissioner Gordon said. "None of us want to see an innocent man condemned."
"But we don't want to see a guilty one get off 'cause he's filthy rich, either," added Bullock.
"We're still investigating the matter," Gordon finished. "If you hear anything or find anything, let us know."
Robin glanced at the holding cell one last time before turning to go.
"Oh, I will," he said. "You can be sure of that."