I sat on dad's hospital bed, playing with the little remote control like a child. He hasn't woken up yet, but the heart monitor proved he was still alive. Uncle Sal was leaning against the doorframe with Izzy, and he had his guards on his and our properties back home.

Pets weren't allowed, but Brody came anyway. When the employees at the front desk saw the Chechen in a hospital stretcher, with one of the mob's top leaders trailing behind with his wife, their mouths were hanging too far open to notice the dog.

"Do you think he's going to wake up?" I whispered. Izzy sat next to me and patted my hand, while Sal told me the closest thing to the truth he could.

"I dunno kid. Maybe. Maybe not." Furrowing his brows, he returned his gaze to my father.

Someone on the far side of the room quietly let themselves in.

"Commissioner Gordon," Uncle Sal started. "This is not an appropriate time to warrant for my arrest."

I violently rose up from my seat and spat on Gordon's shoes. "You've come to arrest them in the hospital? Where my father is lying unconscious?"

"Calm down." Gordon was still in the doorway. "I came to see how he was doing. And to say thank you."

"Thank you?"

"Yes. I think you know why, even though he thanked you already. The Joker's been put in jail by the way. There's no need to worry for a long while."

I snorted. "Yeah, how long are you gonna keep him in there this time before he breaks out? Maybe 48 hours, give or take?"

Uncle Sal smiled at that comment, but mostly stayed silent. Gordon didn't really have anything to say to that. Probably because he knew it was true. Last time, the clown was barely caged for 24 hours.

Gordon thanked me again and took his leave. I decided not to spit on his shoes this time around as he walked out.

Sal looked confused. "Thank you for what?"

So I told him the whole Batman story, leaving out the one comment from the Joker that had kept me up the past couple of nights: You'll see me again beautiful.

I really hoped not.

Uncle Sal spoke, interrupting my thoughts. "It's about time the Bat owes us a favor."

Izzy and I nodded, and we all resumed watching my father, waiting and hoping for a miraculous recovery.

The next few days went by pretty slowly. It was lonely around the house without dad. My days consisted of taking care of the other dogs, visiting the hospital, and training Brody in our usual spot. I visited Uncle Sal too, but he was never home, and Izzy kept begging to take me for a manicure.

"It'd make you feel better," she prodded.

I snorted. "Iz, I really don't think so." I'd never had one, and never will. Dad had taught me at a young age: Never pay for something if you can do it yourself. So my nails were painted black. They were chipping, but I hadn't paid for them.

After what seemed like years of moping around my crappy old shack and the Maroni residence, he finally woke up.

It was on the fifth day. We got a call from the hospital, and Uncle Sal personally drove, which he never did, just so we'd get there to see my father.

I raced to his room; combat boots slamming against the tile, and jammed open his door.

The Chechen's head turned and he gave me a weak smile. "Kid," he managed to grunt.

I never cry. Never. But for the first time in a long time, I felt an unnatural tear slide down my cheek. Quickly wiping it away, I replied, "Hey dad."

"How you doing kid?" He was trying to lift his head off the pillow. Uncle Sal made it to the room and came around to the other side, sitting down with Isabella.

"You're really asking ME how I'm doing?" I laughed, asking him the most important question: "How are you?"

"I pretty good," he replied, struggling to sit up.

"Dad, just lie down and take a nap or something," I laughed.

He scowled. "NOT taking a nap." He lay back on the cushiony pillow anyway.

Uncle Sal lowered his voice, "What happened?"

My father tried to explain, his breathing labored. "I dunno Sal," he began.

Sal cut him off. "Was it the clown?"

The Chechen shook his head. "I no see the freak. I had dinner, hit sack, no feel good, and then I dunno what."

I froze. "You didn't feel well how long after dinner?"

"Hour or so," my dad shrugged.

I cursed under my breath.

Isabella put a hand on my shoulder. "What is it dear?"

"Poison," I sneered. "The one man freak show poisoned him."

Sal's eyes widened. "If he poisoned him, I doubt he intended for him to live."

"Shit." What could I do? I didn't even know.

Sal was just as shocked as I was. "Laurel, remember that favor the Bat owes us?"

"Yes," I managed to answer.

"I think this would be it," he said in a serious tone.

Springing from my chair, I quickly asked him, "Where do you think he is?"

"Use your instincts kid," Sal nervously smiled, probably afraid for how much time my father had left. "You're a mobber."