Author's Note: Constantine was supposed to make an appearance in this chapter, but the chapter was getting a bit long. I decided to split it into two, so chapter six will technically be chapter 5 part 2. I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

"I'm not wearing it."

"Stiles, it's a black-tie event. You have to wear it."

"I like my plaid jacket."

"Stiles-"

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

Parrish took a deep breath. "If you wear it, then I'll give you your phone back."

Stiles poked his head out from under the bed. "Give me the suit."

Parrish smirked, leaving it on the bed. "Come on, we're late. I got you a clip on because I know you suck at ties."

Stiles crawled out from his hiding place and quickly got dressed. He stood in front of his bedroom mirror. The last time he'd worn a suit was for the winter formal in Beacon Hills. He had bared his heart to Lydia only for her to confess that the reason she went out with him was to appease Allison for kissing Scott. It had hurt at the time, getting rejected by his longtime crush, but he learned to push past it and settle for being good friends. When they talked on the phone, she gave him updates on what was happening in Beacon Hills. She didn't bring up his dad or ask why he was ignoring Scott's calls. She was an avid listener, never interrupting him and giving him advice where she could.

Sadly, tonight his date would not be the fiery redhead but the overprotective Parrish,

who asked him to come to the auction so he could mend his relationship with Tim despite saying otherwise.

He put his hands together, imitating the famous British spy.

"The name's Stilinski. Stiles Stilinski."

"Stiles. We're late. Come down here." Parrish's voice carried through the house on the police megaphone.

Stiles rushed out of the bedroom, grumbling about Parrish's abuse of police resources. He should get his own megaphone and see how he likes it at four in the morning.

Parrish was waiting outside; the cruiser was already running. He tossed Stiles his phone. "I know we've been having some problems, Stiles." His hand lingered on the door. "I'm here for you, okay bud?"

Stiles pulled open the passenger door without saying a word. Parrish entered quietly, looking slightly disappointed when Stiles put in his headphones.

He knew he shouldn't put Parrish through the ringer, but there was so much anger building up inside of him. Anger at his situation. At Parrish for caring so damn much. That Tim wouldn't help him. He couldn't help lashing out despite how unfair it was to Parrish.

They arrived an hour later due to horrendous traffic. They were running up the stairs two steps at a time. Three security guards were blocking the door.

"Hold it! Who are you two?"

Stiles pointed at their attire. "We were invited." Of all the people. Maybe he shouldn't have put up such a fuss about the suit.

One of them smiled, his beady eyes making him uncomfortable. "Were you boy?"

Parrish slammed the invitations on the podium. "Look, Bruce Wayne invited us personally to the gala and auction. We were running late. If you want I can call Mr. Wayne himself and have him sort this out. So, if you don't want me to do that, then kindly move out of the fucking way."

Stiles looked at Parrish with a new appreciation. With a flip of switch, Parrish adopted a cool and confident persona. It was kind of badass.

The man glared and stepped out of their way. As they hurried inside, Stiles looked over his shoulder. The man gave him a short wave, sending shivers down his spine.

They made it into the ballroom just in time to see the beginning of Mr. Wayne's speech.

He scanned the audience and saw Tim standing near the front. He turned away, not wanting Tim to catch him staring.

"Good evening, fellow Gothamites. Tonight, we honor the men and women who defend our wonderful city. They are the true heroes of Gotham. In about an hour, the auction will begin after some dancing!"

Mr. Wayne raised his wine glass, eliciting a wave of applause.

Gentle music filled the ballroom and Stiles found himself gravitating towards the buffet. Stiles tried not to be embarrassed at Parrish's sorry excuse for dancing.

"Hello, stranger."

Stiles looked up from the plate of chocolate cake he was eating to see Barbara Gordon standing next to him. She was stunning in her red ball gown.

"Barbara! What are you doing here?" Stiles set down the plate and wiped his mouth. He remembered her from his many visits to the station.

Barbara rested a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, Stiles. My father is the commissioner, remember? I've been meaning to talk to you."

"About what?" Stiles asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I mean- I'm not that interesting to talk to."

Barbara had a solemn look. "Stiles. That's not true at all. You're such a good person. I wanted to give you this." She handed him a card from her purse. "There's a support group for kids in your situation. In case you need someone to unload on."

"Thanks. Um, I'll keep it in mind."

"Please do, Stiles. By the way, have you seen Dick Grayson around? Tall, dark, and somewhat handsome?"

"Tim's brother?" Stiles asked.

"You know Tim?"

"Yeah, he and I are friends. Well, I think we're friends."

Barbara put a hand under his chin, causing him to blush. "Try not to mope, Stiles. It doesn't suit you. If you'll excuse me, I have to find my boyfriend."

Stiles gave her a half smile. "See, not moping. Just needed the right motivation."

Barbara rolled her eyes. "I'll see you later."

She disappeared into the crowd to find Dick. From behind, she reminded him of Lydia. Way out of his league.

"Ladies and gentlemen. The auction will be commencing shortly."

A woman beckoned everyone over to the stage. Stiles was pushed to the front by the tide of guests. He tried to find his way to the back but stopped when he caught sight of Mr. Wayne walking to the podium.

Following Mr. Wayne was a group of men carrying in objects hidden by white sheets.

"I hope everyone's been enjoying their evening. We will start off this auction with a one of a kind painting done by the late Nico Lafayette."

Mr. Wayne walked towards one of the hidden objects and pulled off the sheet, unveiling a beautiful painting of the French countryside.

The bidding began almost immediately. Excited hands shot in the air. As the price went up, Stiles' head began to hurt at the thought of paying so much for a painting. It was nice but not thousands of dollars nice.

Stiles' gaze wandered to the side of the stage, finding Tim standing there. He was also wearing a suit, a lot nicer than Stiles', watching the auction with visible interest.

Guilt wormed into his heart. Tim had been there for him since the day his father was arrested. Although Stiles stood firmly by his choice, he understood that their disagreement stemmed from Tim wanting to protect him.

He wrung his hands and made his way over to Tim. "I don't know about you, but I thought Iron Man 2 sucked."

"Well you're entitled to your own opinion." His face gave away no surprise. "I didn't think you would come. You were out of school for a while."

Stiles shrugged. "I tried to blame you when it wasn't your fault. You were just trying to be my friend."

"It's okay, Stiles. I understand why you think you need to do it, but I want you to know you're not alone. You have me, Parrish, and your dad."

He felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Stiles turned back to the stage. "Your dad sure knows how to party."

"Bruce likes this. Me, I hate parties."

"Stiles."

Stiles looked at Tim. "Did you say something?"

Tim wasn't paying attention to him but scrolling through his phone. "I was going to show you the end credits for the new Ant Man movie. Totally bogus, right?"

Before he could respond, the front doors burst open. Two of the security guards from earlier were brandishing weapons.

The last one, the one that had put him on edge, came out from behind them. Gone was the security garb. He wore a purple suit and green vest. His hair was also green, and white makeup caked his face. His smile was the most terrifying. Two cuts extended from his mouth to his ears.

"I would say freeze, but it looks like you already have! Hahahaha!"

Whispers erupted from the crowd.

"The Joker!"

"Oh, no! Where's Batman!"

"Someone help!"

Tim's eyes searched the stage. Mr. Wayne was gone.

"Line up now you classy ladies and gents. Joker is here!"

Stiles stood frozen. He had heard stories about the Joker from the other officers at the GCPD. No one was safe when that clown was around.

"I know you're afraid. Just do as they say." Tim said, nudging him towards the line beginning to form.

Stiles lined up behind the other guests. Joker's crew were holding out bags, demanding their prized possessions. He spotted Parrish near the back. He was frantically peering left and right of the line until his eyes landed on Stiles, his shoulders sagging in some relief.

He watched as people threw in earrings, watches, rings, and money. Stiles rifled through his pockets. He came up with his phone, two dimes, and a nickel. Stiles was royally screwed.

When it was his turn, he dumped the contents of his pockets into the bag with trembling hands. The bag didn't move. Stiles chanced a look at the thug. His face was pulled into an angry scowl as if he were personally insulted. He grabbed the front of his shirt. "I don't want your chump change. Give us what we want!"

"I d-don't have anything else." He stuttered. He looked at Tim with pleading eyes.

"Here, take this!" Tim took off his watch and threw it into the bag. "That should be enough."

"Not good enough." Stiles was shoved out of line. He lost his balance and landed hard on his knees. The muzzle of a gun was put against his head. "Boss, this kid is holding out on us."

"Leave him alone!" Parrish yelled from his place in line. He looked ready to charge like a bull in a ring.

"You try anything funny and I shoot him."

Parrish looked at the gun and then Stiles. He stayed put, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Joker danced his way over to them, twirling a knife in his hand. "Why so serious? We were getting along outside!"

Stiles' eyes widened a fraction. Dread flooded his body. Tim stayed where he was, equally shocked.

"I don't have any money."

Joker laughed. "No money? I thought you were personally invited by Bruce Wayne. That makes you a very important boy." He grabbed a fistful of Stiles' hair. "I think ol' Brucie would pay a great deal for you. We'll have a good laugh."

The gun pointed at him said otherwise. He closed his eyes, trying to will the whole ordeal away. The cold metal against his skin. The clown straight from his nightmares. His life flashing like a reel on a movie.

The sound of glass shattering broke him out of his trance. He opened his eyes only to see a dark figure enter the corner of his vision.

Joker seemed ecstatic at the new arrival. He let go of his hair and straightened out his suit. "Batsy, batsy. I knew you couldn't stay away for long."

"Joker." A gruff voice said.

All hell broke loose. Tim rushed the gunman. Stiles scrambled backwards on his hands. He could only watch as Tim wrestled for the gun. He twisted the man's hand, bones snapping painfully. The gun clattered onto the floor and Tim punched the man square in the face. He fell like a plank of wood, falling unconscious.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?"

Tim smirked. "I told you I was a good fighter."

Stiles wasn't sure if he should be amazed or terrified. He decided on a mixture of both. Tim helped him up from the floor. He turned his attention over to the Joker and Batman, because who else could it be dressed in a giant batsuit. Batman had thrown Joker into the buffet table. Guests were running away, trying to get to the exits. He scanned their faces for Parrish but couldn't find him.

"Leaving so soon everyone? I brought souvenirs!"

Joker rolled a couple of canisters on the ground. Gas started to fill the ballroom.

Tim immediately put his sleeve to his nose and mouth. "Don't breathe it in."

Stiles copied him, but the gas was already making him lightheaded. "We have to find Parrish."

"I need to get you out of here first. Then, I'll come back to find him."

Stiles shook his head. "No. I'm not leaving him behind."

"Fine." Tim relented. "But you stay behind me."

Stiles coughed. "Behind you. Promise."

He followed behind Tim, the gas making it hard to see. He caught glimpses of a black cape but no Parrish. Laughter filled the air but there was nothing humorous about it. Tim stopped abruptly. Stiles nearly slammed into him.

"What's happened?"

"Stiles! Haha...Stiles!"

He pushed Tim out of the way. Parrish was laying on the ground. His eyes were bulging. His mouth was drawn into a painful smile.

Stiles dropped to his knees. "Parrish snap out of it." He shook him hard. "Stop laughing!"

Tim put a hand on his shoulder. "We have to get him out of here now."

Stiles grabbed Parrish's arms and tried to move him. He got a few feet before his knees started to wobble. He swayed from the dizziness and collapsed. Tim caught him before he hit the ground.

"I can't. I can't." He gasped. Stiles covered his mouth as a giggle tried to escape his throat. "Tim...Haha!"

"Look at me, Stiles! The gas is affecting you!" Tim slapped his cheeks. "Stay alert!"

"Stiles."

It was the voice from his bedroom. It was softer than before.

"You gotta fight it baby."

Through the fog he could see his mother. A white shine surrounded her body.

"Mom." He called out, reaching a hand towards her.

"-fight it."

Streaks of tears were falling from Tim's face. "Stay with me, Stiles."

When Stiles woke up, he had no idea where he was. His head was pounding from the bright lights and his bed was lumpier than he remembered. He tried to sit up, but a hand pushed him gently back down.

"Easy there."

"Tim, where am I?" Stiles asked, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. He stopped when he caught sight of the needle in his arm.

"Hospital. Two days now."

Flashes of the gala flitted through his mind. His breath hitched. "Where's Parrish?"

The machine next to him started to beep loudly.

"Calm down! The doctor said you were still weak."

Stiles bit his lip and pulled out the IV. "I need to see him. He was hit with the gas, too. Tim. Tim, what's wrong?"

His friend pulled up a chair next to the bed. He looked conflicted about what to say. Stiles immediately knew something was wrong. "Parrish was exposed to a significant amount of Joker venom. The doctors tried everything they could." Tim paused. "He's in a coma, Stiles."

It was like his dad all over again. He didn't want to believe Tim, but he knew it was true from the look on Tim's face.

Stiles swung his legs off the bed. "Take me to him."

Tim hooked an arm around his waist and they walked into the hall. Stiles' movements were slow and sluggish, but he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. Parrish was in the ICU a floor below them. At the room door, Stiles hesitated. It took all his strength to push it open.

Tim waited outside for which he was grateful for. Parrish was lying on the bed, his face as white as the sheets. The strained smile from two nights ago was replaced with a more relaxed expression.

He was hooked up to all sorts of machines that beeped and hummed. Stiles took Parrish's hand and gave it a light squeeze. His eyes watered. "I'm sorry, Parrish. I was horrible. You didn't deserve any of it." He sniffled. "I'll be waiting for you when you wake up. Me and dad. You'll see."

Parrish remained still showing no signs of hearing him. His heart dropped. His life changed in an instant, and Stiles wanted nothing more than to turn back the clock. He wished he'd been nicer. He wished he'd told Parrish how much he meant to him. But it was too late. Every chance he had was cruelly snatched away from him.

A knock sounded on the door and Tim peeked into the room. "Hey, Stiles. Bruce wanted to talk to you."

Stiles let go of Parrish's hand. It fell limply back onto the bed. He rose from Parrish's side and walked towards the door. He gave a parting glance in Parrish's direction before leaving the room.

Mr. Wayne was standing in the hall. His hair was disheveled unlike the other times they had met. He sat himself in one the plastic chairs in the hall and gestured for Stiles to sit. "I know Parrish is a close family friend and recently he became your guardian. Tim and I, we want to offer you a place to stay."

Stiles took a deep breath. "What's the alternative?"

"Foster care."

He felt a familiar tightness in his chest. His family was gone. "I don't know what to say."

"You could say yes."

"I-yes. Thank you, Mr. Wayne."

"Bruce. You can call me Bruce."

Stiles smiled. "Thank you, Bruce."