Chapter 20:

Sixteen days later:

"Dick, you look like a zombie," Bruce stated with a sigh. "I told you this would be too much. How many hours of sleep do you get?"

"Enough," Dick mumbled through a bite of cereal.

The man was right – the teenager was exhausted. Total training time was about ten hours per day and then he usually spent another hour on tumbling. Dick's grades hadn't been affected by his new schedule so Bruce had allowed it to continue through its time limit. But he had just decided that sixteen days was more than enough time for his ward to realize that this new schedule wasn't going to work out.

"We need to talk about this, chum."

"Sorry, gotta get to school," the boy mumbled as he shoved a pancake in his mouth.

"Dick. It's Saturday."

"Oh. Right, I know. I meant I'm going to go train at school."

"Why?"

"Um…."

"Maybe you should go back to bed, kiddo."

"But I have to be prepared and I can't get stronger if I don't train harder!"

"The sixteen days are up, Dick, and we're throwing this new schedule thing out the window. I let you try it and now it's over."

"But I have to be ready!" Dick exclaimed. "How can I be better if I can't train more every day?!"

The boy was suddenly on the verge of tears. Everything caught up to him at that moment – the overwhelming hours of training, the not-enough-sleep every night, the food that wouldn't fill him up because he used the fuel almost immediately. And he was always worried that Joker was going to escape before he was ready, which added an enormous amount of stress to his already overworked body.

"I have to be ready," he whispered.

"Let's go, chum," Bruce answered softly. "Back to bed. You'll be ready when the time comes. But you don't need to kill yourself trying to 'get ready'."

Bruce put the teenager to bed and heard a very familiar beeping sound when he came back downstairs. He immediately went into the study and shut the door.

"Yes, Commissioner?"

"Joker has escaped, Batman. He knows about the new Robin…"

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't have a new Robin!" Batman interrupted loudly. "I took a kid for a ride, that's all I did!"

"Well, Joker thinks you have a new Robin and there was a very disturbing image on the wall where he escaped."

"Okay," Batman growled.

"It was a picture of a birdbath with two robins, both floating dead in the water."

"I'll take care of it, Commissioner. And I DO NOT have a new Robin!"

Bruce slammed the phone down and ran a hand down his face. How many times was he going to have to say that? Why couldn't people just accept the fact that he had given a kid a short ride? Why did everyone think he needed a new Robin?!

"I'm ready."

Bruce lifted his head, which he didn't even realize he had dropped. Dick was standing next to him, the head of bust lifted and the switch already twisted.

"I just put you in bed!" the man exclaimed.

"I. Am. Ready."

"Dick, I don't…"

"Joker is on the loose, we don't have time for this," Dick stated.

Bruce sighed the, shaking his head, he said, "To the Batpoles."

Joker's hideout:

It had been easy to find. All Batman had to do was follow the lengthy trail made up of pictures of dead birds. He walked into the old warehouse and folded his arms across his chest.

"What do you want, Joker?" he demanded to the empty room.

"Your new bird," the villain stated sinisterly.

Batman looked up and saw Joker twirling in the chair in the manager's office.

"I don't have a new one."

"But I saw you with him," Joker sneered. "Everybody did."

"And 'everybody' is wrong. I gave a kid a ride."

"Just let me see him. Is he as sugary sweet as the first Boy Blunder? Is he as strong and stubborn? Is he as annoying?"

Robin had entered through the back and was now silently climbing the stairs leading to the manager's office. He was almost to the door and his heart was racing with anticipation.

"I don't need a new one," Batman stated angrily.

"Because he still has this one!" Robin exclaimed as he dove through the open doorway.

He popped up to his feet, his right arm already swinging. His small but strong fist caught Joker on the side of his head and the villain immediately slid off the chair and crumpled to the floor.

"I'm not really dead," the Boy Wonder said to the nearly unconscious Clown Prince of Crime. "Sorry to disappoint you. Actually, I'm not sorry. Have a good nap."

Joker stared up at the boy through cloudy vision. He recognized the face and the voice but the kid was dead! Batman had found a good look-a-like.

"New one!" Joker whispered before slipping into the dark world of unconsciousness.

"I did it too fast," Robin stated regretfully. "He doesn't think it's me. Can we keep him until he wakes up?"

"What?! No, Robin, we're not going to keep him. I'll give him some Bat-awake so you can prove it but that's it. Then he's going back to the State Pen."

Batman sprayed a mist in front of Joker's face and the villain immediately opened his eyes.

"New Boy Blunder," he muttered groggily.

"No," Robin retorted as he crouched in front of the villain. "Same Boy Wonder."

"Nope," Joker replied, popping the 'p'.

"Yes, and I'll prove it. Ask me anything about the night you killed Robin."

Joker giggled, "Yep, I killed him!"

"Ask me," Robin demanded.

"What happened to my knife?" the man pouted.

"I kicked it out the tiny window," the teenager stated with a smirk.

"How many of Robin's ribs did I break?"

"None."

"Aha!"

"The guard's nightstick did it for you. Three, by the way. It broke three."

"Oh."

Joker sounded very disappointed but still unbelieving.

"What's the last thing Robin said?"

"Out loud or in my mind?"

"Out loud! You're as idiotic as the first Boy Blunder. How would I know what Robin said in his mind?!"

"Joke's on you, again."

Robin whispered this answer. The words brought on a slight feeling of terror but Batman put a hand on his shoulder and the feeling fled.

"Nope, you're wrong!" Joker shouted.

"No, he's not," Batman growled. "Those are the exact words that you told me when you were bragging about killing him."

"No…oh. Okay, here's one that nobody knows. I said, 'I'll miss you' and then there were three words after that. Robin was so broken by then that he was nearly unconscious so there's no way he would have heard that!"

A shudder ran through Robin's body. Those words had been spoken right before his head had been shoved into a bowl full of water. Batman's hand tightened on the boy's shoulder when he felt the trembling.

"For two seconds," Robin whispered again.

He was wheezing now, trying to keep what he knew to be a panic attack from happening.

"Breathe, chum," Batman commented softly.

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" Joker wailed. "Nonononononono! You're dead, I killed you!"

"Almost," Robin stated, his voice a little stronger. "You were so close; it must be very disappointing to realize that you failed. How long have you been celebrating, a month? Wait until everyone else finds out. You're going to be the laughing-stock of the State Pen!"

The Boy Wonder chuckled as he pictured the other villains' reactions to the news. Joker was never going to live this down.

"Didn't you die?" Robin continued. "I heard they put you in the morgue. Oh, and thanks for the password, by the way. It would have been much harder to live if I had been forced to wait for another six hours. We're all extremely grateful that you gave Lt. Muschamp the words. He and Batman were able to quickly figure out the phrase. You're not very original, are you?"

"Okay, Robin, enough," Batman commanded quietly. "He knows and believes it now. Time to get him back to the State Pen."

"Why are you so stubborn?" Joker whined. "Why can't you just go away? Batman and I were having a grand time playing games and then you entered the picture and now he's with you all the time!"

"He's still here and arresting you," Robin retorted. "Sure, I'm here, too, but look how focused he is on you."

Joker glanced over the teen's shoulder and found himself staring at a dark Bat-glare.

"Phooey," the man grumbled with a frown. "He's got his hand on your shoulder so obviously he is not completely focused on me."

"Batman is intelligent," the Boy Wonder declared, "and can focus on many things at one time. You should know that by now."

Robin shrugged his shoulder and Batman removed his hand.

"See? He's still focused on both of us, even without his hand on my shoulder."

"Robin," Batman warned softly.

"Whatever," Joker muttered.

The villain swiftly pulled a knife out of his jacket pocket and swung it at the teenager. Rolling his eyes, Robin blocked the motion with his left arm. With his right hand, he punched Joker in the face again.

"Ssssstupid…Blund…"

Joker trailed off as his arm dropped limply to the ground. His eyes closed and the knife clattered gently out of his slackened hand.

Standing up, Robin looked at Batman with a grin.

"You're bleeding," the Caped Crusader commented.

The Boy Wonder glanced at his left forearm, where the knife had knicked the flesh. A tiny trail of blood was slowing making its way toward his hand. He swiped his hand up his arm and the crimson line disappeared.

"Not anymore."

Dropping to a crouch again, Robin pulled his Bat-cuffs out of his utility belt. He flipped the villain onto his stomach, grabbed the man's wrists and attached them together behind his back.

Batman was already on his Bat-communicator, telling Commissioner Gordon that Joker was ready for pickup.

"Also," the man said, "I would like to set up a press conference for tomorrow morning. I have some important news to share with the citizens of our fair city."

There was a slight pause and Robin stood up, staring at Batman in surprise.

"Ten o'clock in front of Headquarters is fine," Batman continued. "Thank you, Commissioner."

Another short pause and then the Caped Crusader growled, "No, it has nothing to do with a new Robin!"

Shutting off the Bat-communicator, Batman sighed and mumbled, "How many times am I going to have to say that?"

"If I know what you're thinking," Robin replied, "then that's the last time. And I'm pretty sure I know what you're thinking."

"You will not be speaking, Robin," the man stated firmly. "I will have you come out, I'll explain the circumstances and then we'll leave. We won't take any questions and you will remain quiet. Is that clear?"

"No," the teenager growled. "Either let me prepare a short speech or let me answer questions. I'm not going to stay quiet after coming back from death!"

"Remember what happened a month ago, with that crowd of people?"

"Of course! But this time I'll be ready and they won't know what to say!"

"There will be reporters, chum. Not just ordinary citizens at a small protest!"

"Then let me prepare a statement. A short one, just so they know it's really me."

"They're going to know it's you, Robin. Everyone knows who you are!"

"No, they're going to know it's a Robin, not necessarily your first sidekick. Everyone, even the commissioner, thinks you have a new one!"

Batman mumbled something unintelligible then turned and began walking down the stairs.

"I'm going to speak, Batman," Robin declared from the top of the stairs. "If you don't let me say something during the press conference, I'll take questions as we leave."

Whirling around, the Caped Crusader growled, "If I tell you not to speak, you will not speak! And I'm telling you that you will not, under any circumstances, speak to the ravenous wolves known as the Gotham City media! They'll tear you apart!"

"If I have to answer questions," the Boy Wonder stated, "then yes, they probably will. But if I just give a short statement and then we leave, you won't have to worry about that."

Robin began marching down the stairs, arms folded across his chest and eyes exuding both anger and confidence.

"They'll throw out questions."

"We'll go out the back."

"They'll ambush us."

"We'll go to the roof."

"The Bat-copter? They'll know it's there and ambush us there."

"We'll park the Batmobile far away and use the rooftops to get there."

"They'll run after us."

"Come on, Batman. Do you really think a bunch of running reporters can go faster than two experienced crime-fighters who can jump and fly across gaps?"

"There will be people by the Batmobile no matter where we park it."

"Not if we camouflage."

"As what?!" the man exclaimed in disbelief. "A sidewalk?!"

"Park it in an alley, by a dumpster."

"This is ridiculous. It won't work."

"Only because you think I never have good ideas," the boy retorted.

Batman nearly rolled his eyes at that comment. They were now in the Batmobile and on their way to the Batcave.

"Do you really want Joker to be the one to tell everybody that I'm alive?"

That was a good point, Batman had to admit that.

"No," he growled. "But you'll be right beside me and now we're back to where we started."

"Batman," Robin ground the word out, "people are not going to believe you if I just stand there. I've been 'dead' for a month! That's plenty of time for you to find a new sidekick and, interestingly enough, present him to the citizens the day after you capture Joker!"

There was a long pause. The Batmobile sped into the Batcave and coasted smoothly to a stop. Both heroes climbed out and Batman begin striding toward the Batpoles.

Suddenly, Robin was in front of him with a small hand on his muscular chest.

Glaring at his young partner, Batman stated, "If you're going to speak, I'm writing your statement. I only have a few hours to figure out what we're going to say so you should probably get out of my way."

Robin dropped his hand and stepped to the side. The Caped Crusader marched away and the Boy Wonder smirked.

Just because you write it, doesn't mean I have to read it.

He waited until Batman had disappeared up his Batpole. Racing to the Bat-changing area, Robin quickly changed clothes and ran to the service elevator. Bruce would be in his study, already working on their respective statements, and Dick wasn't going to give his guardian a chance to see the satisfied expression on his young face. The man would figure out what the boy was going to do and Dick's plan would be ruined.

So, up the service elevator he went. Upon exiting, he sprinted up the stairs to his room, already thinking about the statement he was going to write for himself.