A/N: Thanks for the compliments, finalotte! :)

Chapter 2:

Forty-six minutes later:

He had finally found a door that wasn't next to a reflective Bat-sticker. This one had a handle that turned easily when Batman twisted it. The door swung open and Batman's eyes widened in shock. The obviously plexiglass windows were clear, the dark gas was gone, and his partner was lying on the floor in a crumpled heap.

"Robin!" he exclaimed quietly as he raced to the boy's side and dropped to his knees. The chest was evenly rising and falling, the pulse was strong and there were no visible injuries. Putting his right hand on the small shoulder, Batman gently shook the teenager's body.

"Wake up, chum!"

There was no movement, so Batman increased the volume of his voice and repeated the phrase. A flinch, a full-body shudder and then the Boy Wonder opened his clear, blue eyes.

"Batman?" he questioned softly and received a nod in reply.

"How do you feel?" the Caped Crusader asked, concern filling the tone.

"Tired," the teenager sighed.

There was a long pause as Batman waited for further information.

"Okay, what else? Does anything hurt?"

Another long pause and Robin looked thoughtful. His mind walked itself down his body, examining it for injuries, and found nothing.

"No," he grinned slightly. The expression quickly faded when an image of large waves slid across his mind.

"How did I get back here? Am I dead?!"

The last question was shouted in confusion and Batman raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"You've been here the whole time, kiddo. No, you're not dead. Why would you think you were dead?"

"I tied myself up and jumped into the lake," the boy responded wearily. He ran his left hand through his dark hair then carefully sat up. The dizziness was unexpected, and Robin closed his eyes while waiting for his body to stop swaying.

The young hero looked like he was about to collapse so Batman wrapped his right arm around the small shoulders. Tied himself up…jumped in the lake?!

"If you jumped in the lake, why aren't you all wet?" the Caped Crusader asked logically.

Opening his eyes and glancing down, the Boy Wonder replied, "I have no idea. I'm tired, Batman, really tired. How many bad guys are there?"

Batman, in his concern for his young partner, had completely forgotten that they were here because of alleged criminal activity.

"I don't know," he replied. "I haven't seen any. I did hear a voice, although I couldn't identify it."

"Did it sound kind of ghostly?" Robin asked and received a confirming nod. "Well, let's go investigate before I fall asleep again."

Both members of the Dynamic Duo stood up. Batman wrapped his arm around Robin's waist, but the teenager shook his head.

"Too easy to relax if you do that," he mumbled sleepily. The Caped Crusader reluctantly removed his arm but decided to stay close, just in case.

Taking the lead, Batman strode to the door and stepped through. There was no sound from behind him and he glanced back. Robin was in the same spot, eyes closed and chin resting on his chest. He had fallen asleep while standing up.

Grinning, but with concern dancing around the edges of his eyes, the older hero retraced his steps and scooped up the younger hero. The teenager didn't even flinch as his body gently flopped over the man's arms. Turning toward the door again, Batman walked into the complicated maze for the second time. Hopefully, it wouldn't take him four hours to get out.

The next day:

Dick slept for sixteen hours straight and was still drowsy when Alfred finally woke him up to eat something. He was currently sitting at the dining room table, his left elbow resting on the wood and his head propped up on his left hand. The spoon in his right hand had made it into the bowl of soup but had stayed there instead of going up to his mouth. The teen's jaw suddenly went slack and his head dropped to the table, just missing the bowl and flipping the spoon into the air. A small portion of the soup jumped off the spoon and landed in Dick's hair.

Bruce chose that moment to enter the room and he froze, staring at his ward in both amusement and concern. Alfred, already standing over the boy, looked at his older charge and chuckled.

"He's merely asleep, sir. There are no injuries and his pulse is steady and strong."

Frowning, Bruce replied, "But shouldn't he be able to stay awake by now? He did take a really long nap."

"I realize that, Master Bruce, and it is a bit concerning. However, you said he was breathing whatever the substance was for at least three and a half hours. Perhaps this is a side effect, sir, a long-lasting side effect."

A muffled groan came from the tablecloth and Dick lifted his head. His forehead was an inch off the table and Bruce strode to his side.

"'M tired," he mumbled as his head dropped down again.

"No, come on Dick, it's time to wake up," Bruce lightly demanded. "Let's go take a walk outside, get some fresh air into your lungs."

"K," the boy replied and somehow managed to get his body off the chair. Bruce reached out to steady him, but Dick was already shuffling toward the front door. The teenager abruptly stopped, and the man bumped into him.

"We out yet?" Dick sighed.

"No, young sir, you are not yet outside. Open your eyes, Master Dick, so you can see to walk through the door."

Grabbing his ward's shoulders, Bruce gently twisted him toward the front door that Alfred was patiently holding open.

"He's right, Dick. You need to open your eyes. I need you to stay awake for at least an hour. I need to know you're okay. Can you do that for me – one hour?"

"Suuuuuuure," the boy slurred sleepily. He tripped over the small step that led outside but quickly regained his balance.

"You still have to open your eyes," Bruce commented. Dick slowly obeyed and Bruce, who was standing in front of him, carefully studied his face.

Both eyes were encased in a circle of red, as if they had been in the sun too long. The blue circles were surrounded by pointed crimson streaks and the dark eyelashes kept reaching for the boy's cheeks. Everything else looked completely normal.

Frowning again, Bruce walked behind Dick and placed his hands on the small shoulders. He guided his ward off the porch and into the bright sunlight that was leaning toward the western horizon.

Why was he so tired? Dick couldn't understand why his movements were so sluggish. It felt like he was a lump of wiggly jello; he had no control over his body. The only reason he was still stumbling along was because of the firm hold that his guardian had on his shoulders.

"Been hour yet?"

"No, Dick, it's been less than five minutes."

A strong hand gently grabbed the teenager's chin and carefully shook his head from side to side. The motion made his head hurt and Dick squeezed his eyes shut again.

"Open your eyes, Richard!" Bruce demanded loudly and Dick, startled, quickly obeyed.

"What's wrong with me?" he whispered, a touch of fear in his tone.

"It's probably a side effect from the gas," Bruce replied, "but I need you awake so we can try to figure it out."

Nodding, Dick started walking. His guardian was right; the fresh air was clearing the cobwebs out of his mind and prodding his brain to become alert.

"Holy villain, Bruce, who did this?!" he suddenly exclaimed.

"I went back after putting you in bed and discovered nothing. Not even any evidence that we had been there. I don't know who we're dealing with but there are several criminals who are known for their toxic creations."

"The gas was green – Joker. I thought I was drowning and about to die – a Scarecrow hallucination. The smell was atrocious, though, so it couldn't be Poison Ivy. But…the voice I heard was only slightly familiar."

"I think we may be dealing with someone new. However, since we have no clues as to the identity of the villain, we should continue our evaluation of you. How are you feeling?"

"I'm still tired but I can think clearly and," Dick grinned, "form coherent sentences again."

"Are you sleepy tired or physically tired?"

"Sleepy," the teen immediately replied. "My muscles are practically begging me to use them, but my brain is winning this battle."

"I think you should obey your brain. We don't need a trip to the hospital because Dick Grayson fell asleep in the middle of a tumbling run and cracked his head open."

They both chuckled at the image of a sleeping acrobat flying through the air.

Glancing around and then leaning in toward his guardian, Dick whispered, "Batcave?"

"Batcave," the man quietly agreed, and they turned back to the Manor.

Several days later:

Robin was flying around the high bar, executing an Olympic-level gymnastics routine he had recently watched on the sports channel. The moment he had seen it was the moment he had known that he had to try it. It was complicated and required his full attention. So, when Batman shouted his name, the teenager completely ignored the sound and prepared for the dismount.

"ROBIN! Don't you dare try it! You're not ready!"

Batman had also seen the routine and knew what was coming. A triple back dismount required an intense amount of strength and the Boy Wonder was still recovering from the effects of the green gas. He had been sleeping at least ten hours every night and Batman wasn't allowing him to go on patrol. There was no way that Robin was going to have enough rotation for a triple. Even a double would be a stretch right now.

"ROBIN, STOP!" he commanded even as he realized that it was too late. Robin had just let go of the bar and tucked his knees in to his chest. The boy was only at the level of the bar and would be landing flat on his back.

But Batman, for one of the few times in his career, was wrong. Robin didn't land on his back because he only allowed himself to complete one rotation. He kicked out of the tuck when he saw the ground, landed perfectly and looked over at Batman with a grin.

"Did you say something?" he asked as he wiped the sweat off his forehead.

Growling at what he thought was a sarcastic comment, Batman turned away. Confused, Robin quickly went to his partner's side. He didn't understand why the man was seemingly mad at him.

"What did I do?" Robin asked and Batman stared at him in disbelief. "Did you say something to me while I was flying? Because I heard noise, but I blocked it out. Did I do something wrong?"

Shaking his head at his misunderstanding, Batman smiled at his partner. "I was trying to stop you from attempting the triple. You were ramping up your speed, so I just assumed that you were going for it."

"Oh."

There was a beat of silence and Batman felt like he had to explain.

"It's just that you sometimes have trouble listening to your body. And you tend to push yourself when you should be healing."

It was Robin's turn to stare in disbelief and Batman shook his head again.

"You know it's true. How often have I had to force you to stop training or force you to stay home from patrol or force you to keep a cast on some broken bone?! You have a high pain tolerance, everybody in this house knows that, and you want to go full out every time. You have always ignored your body's warnings about what it can and cannot do. That is why I thought you were going for the triple."

Shrugging, Robin admitted, "That's true. But I'm trying to do better!" he added defensively. "I could have added a twist or done a double, but I didn't!"

"Thank you for that," the Caped Crusader said with a slight smirk. "No flying without supervision for now. Understand?"

"You've got to be kidding me!" the Boy Wonder muttered under his breath. His eyes narrowed; he was perfectly capable of executing a simple high bar routine without a babysitter.

Batman knew exactly what his young partner was thinking. Perhaps no flying was a little extreme. He decided to compromise.

"No difficult flying without supervision. Better?"

"Fine," Robin grumbled. "So, I guess the one I just did is out?" he questioned meekly.

"Only when I'm not here," Batman replied and was not surprised when his partner raced back to the bar and began the complicated routine.

Two days later:

"…thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven…" Robin was grunting out the number as he completed each pullup. His record was forty-six; he was almost there.

"…for…ty," he gasped, his arms shaking vigorously. "For…ty…one." His chin just barely made it over the bar, and he knew it was over.

"Holy failure," he muttered, dropping to the ground. The exhaustion in his arms he understood but why were his legs trembling?

"Robin? Are you alright, old chum?"

Batman landed on his cushion and saw his young partner standing on wobbly legs and struggling to catch his breath.

Holding up his right index finger, the Boy Wonder closed his eyes and began taking deep breaths. Several seconds later he could breathe normally again, and he opened his eyes.

"Forty-one, Batman! I only got to forty-one! I've been consistently at forty-six for two weeks – before the gas, anyway – and now I can barely do forty-one?! And why are my legs so shaky? I haven't even used them for the last five minutes!" Robin flopped onto the thick, blue mat and swept his left hand across his sweaty face.

Batman was slightly concerned. Robin had been feeling much better. He was back to his normal six-hours-a-night sleeping schedule and could easily land a double back from the high bar. But his legs were shaking after doing pullups? A very delayed side effect, perhaps?

Striding over to his partner, the Caped Crusader knelt down and began testing the strong muscles. Everything felt and appeared normal, other than the fact that the boy's legs wouldn't stop twitching.

"Does anything hurt?" the man inquired and received a shake of the head in reply.

"What's wrong with me? What did that gas do to me?" Robin's tone contained a tinge of fear and Batman sighed.

"I don't know, Robin. I've been searching everywhere for information about the disembodied voice. If anyone knows anything, they aren't admitting it. Not even after receiving threats of severe bodily injury."

"The Bat-computer doesn't know anything, either?"

"No, but we haven't been able to give it much to go on – a vaguely familiar voice, green gas, a single death hallucination and extensive fatigue that lasted several days."

"You're right, that's not much."

Silence reigned as both crime-fighters became lost in their own thoughts. Batman was reviewing every tiny piece of information and Robin was trying to decide whether or not to attempt a high bar routine before going on patrol.

"I'm still going, right?" the Boy Wonder asked, suddenly worried that his partner was going to change his mind about patrol.

Batman stared at the teenager for a moment. He had been sure that Robin was okay to go but then this had happened. If the boy was in an extended fight, would he easily be defeated if the workout became too long?

"Let me think about it," he finally answered.

"WHAT?!" Robin exploded, exasperation filling the one word.

"What if this happens while you're fighting? What if your legs suddenly decide to give up and you get hurt because of it?"

Batman was struggling to keep from yelling. Did Robin not see the danger?

"Okay, I get it."

The Boy Wonder quickly gave in and the Caped Crusader was surprised. Usually the young crime-fighter would begin to argue and a loud disagreement would ensue. The immediate surrender only served to increase Batman's concern. It meant that Robin was listening to his body and that was good. However, it also meant that Robin knew something was very wrong and he was worried.

"We'll figure this out, okay?" Batman said softly. He ruffled the boy's dark hair and received a small grin in return.

"Sure, we will," Robin replied with absolutely no confidence. It had been a week since the incident and they still knew nothing. The trail was cold; they weren't going to figure it out anytime soon.

The older hero saw the discouragement on the face of his young partner and tried to lighten the mood.

"Hey, we're the Dynamic Duo. We always figure everything out. This is a problem that might be more difficult to solve but we'll find the solution."

"Sure," Robin said again with a shrug. "We'll find the solution…eventually. I may be old and gray before we do and then it won't matter but sure, we'll figure it out."

"Chin up, old chum. We'll catch a break soon. No flying while I'm gone tonight. Your legs might not be willing to solidly land a dismount and I don't want you getting hurt. In fact, why don't you just go up to the Manor and get ready for dinner? Tell Alfred I'll be there soon."

Nodding, Robin stood up and walked to the Batpoles. Batman carefully watched the movement, searching for any trembling or limping. The shakiness was gone, and the Boy Wonder's strides looked completely normal. Hopefully they would remain that way.

Midnight:

"Robin, get up. Find a really tall tree and climb to the highest branch you can see. Grab it and start swinging around. You're athletic, you can do flips. Swing around a few times and then let go and do some flips. Don't land on your feet; go for your head instead."

Dick opened his eyes and sat up, his heart pounding and horror racing through his veins. Someone had just told him to go kill himself, just like when he had allowed himself to drown in the lake. No, it had been a dream. But the voice had been so commanding, and he remembered that tone from his previous hallucination.

"Bruce," he whispered. Bruce would know what to do. Jumping out of bed, Dick raced out of his room and down the hall to his guardian's bedroom door. Knocking quietly, he waited for an answer. Then he glanced at his watch – midnight. Of course Bruce wouldn't be in bed. He sprinted down the stairs, into the study and slid down his Batpole.

"Batman!" he yelled as he landed. But the Batmobile was gone and the Batcave was empty. Robin ran both hands through his hair and tried to remain calm. Now he was hearing voices; that was just fantastic. Another side effect to add to the rather lengthy list.

"Robin, find a tree, do some flips and land on your head. NOW!" the voice commanded.

The Boy Wonder shook his head, trying to fling the voice out of his mind. It didn't work; now he had a major headache and the voice was still there.

"You will do this, Robin. Stop fighting and just do it. Make it easier on yourself."

His mind chose to obey. Robin strode to the high bar and slipped off his gloves. Without chalking up, he went to the edge of the mat, sprinted toward the bar, jumped off the springboard and began to fly. Thirty seconds and fifteen giant swings later, the teenager released the bar and tucked in for the first flip.