Chapter 50: Clueless

Bruce's POV

"Is he still in there?" I hear a voice outside.

"Yes." A response.

"I'm going to-"

"He still needs more time to think this through, Master Dick."

"But he's taking too long Alfred! And he's not telling us anything! For all we know, he knew that this was going to happen today and he just decided to withhold that information from his family! Why aren't we acting as soon as possible?"

A sigh. "I do not know, but I do know that Master Bruce needs to process what is going on. He needs...time...so please be patient with him. But Master Dick..." Alfred hesitates. "Remember that Master Bruce will do everything he can to bring Miss Christine back home and to her previous condition."

"I know. That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

I hear Dick's footsteps move away from the entrance of the study. The door opens just enough to let Alfred into the room. He closes the door behind him.

"Master Bruce. Christine will be found. We will bring her home."

I simply nod.

He hesitates before continuing to speak. "Master Dick is right, you know. You should talk to your children and tell them everything you know. Every time you've withheld important information from them they've found out on their own and..."

"I know, Alfred. But sometimes they just can't get involved. There are certain things that I have to do."

"And why is that?"

I finally turn away from the window to face my friend. "Because it's always my fault. That's just how it works. The mission isn't finished until everything is set right again, and there are things that I have to set right before the mission is complete."

"But this–"

"Yes it is Alfred. It is my fault. It's my fault Autumn's dead. It's my fault Jason's in a coma. It's my fault Chris has no memories. It's always my fault. No matter how much something may not seem like my fault, it always is. That is the price I agreed to pay when I decided to take up the Batman mantle so many years ago."

"But you do not have to pay that price alone. You cannot live with all that burden on your shoulders. You have to be alive – physically, mentally, and emotionally – to complete the mission. So please, Master Bruce, let your sons take some of the burden. They love you, and they would do anything to help you and make this easier for you. You are not the only one beating himself up over this. At least let them do more than shrivel up because all they can do is think about their lost sister and not do anything to find her."

I give him a grim smile. "Wise as always, Alfred. But, I–"

"–am still trying to wrap my mind around all of this chaos? When are you not? Chaos follows all of us wherever we go because that is just who we are. You are going to need a better excuse."

I turn back to the window, knowing it is useless. There is no excuse that will evade Alfred's wisdom.

"You are still trying to deal with your emotions?" It sounds like a question, but the way he says it I know it is an observation more than a question.

"As always."

"It is always easier to cope with your emotions if you have someone to cope with."

He sighs. "But I know that is not part of your immediate nature, so I will leave you to your own devices. When you are ready to speak to your family and tell them everything you know, I will call them."

I turn only my head back at him. "Thank you Alfred."

"You are welcome, Master Bruce." He gives me a grim smile and turns back to the door.

Once the door shuts, I take a seat in my huge chair and eye the books on the shelves.

Jason's coma, Autumn's "death", and now Chris' mental situation...how could I let things go so wrong?

I'm going to make things right again. I'll heed Alfred's advice and dole out this "burden", but as always I will take up the most responsibility, the heaviest burden.

I need to get this all figured out immediately...

Jason's comatose state is unpredictable, and he could die any second. We don't even know what's wrong with him, so more tests need to be run. But the uncertainty of his state goes both ways; he could become critical in a matter of seconds or a matter of weeks.

If Autumn is dead then all that needs to be investigated is the circumstances of her death or murder. But if I am correct and she is not dead, then she could be in serious trouble and needs to be found immediately. All we've done so far is investigated the crime scene, and we came up with barely any evidence. Either the killer was good or the fake crime scene was created to be that way. I need to determine whether she is dead or not as soon as possible.

The circumstances of Chris' memory loss need to be investigated as well. I'm certain that this wasn't any natural memory loss; someone or something is behind this, and they need to be found. Figuring out who or what is behind this and the actual cause of the memory loss is the key to giving back her memories. One of the ways to do this is to find her and bring her back home so we can run tests. I don't know if her condition will worsen over time, but on the other hand she could stay in the same kind of mental state for a while. She also should be able to survive in Gotham on her own, even with her memory loss. She's a smart girl, but what if she isn't able to...

Which one should be the highest priority? Or...which one would be the hardest for the others to handle?

We need to get to work as soon as possible. Before things get worse.

****Break****

"There are three issues that need to be addressed. It isn't wise to focus on only one and forget the other two, so each of us will be working on one of three cases. Nightwing, you need to look into Autumn's death. Something's not right about the way she died, so you will investigate. If you need help, you can always ask Batgirl or any of your friends. Red Robin, you and Alfred need to determine what's wrong with Jason and what's behind his situation. The circumstances of his failing health are definitely mysterious. Robin, you and I will investigate the reason behind Chris' memory loss and search for her. Patrol will work as usual. We can help each other with our cases, but make sure to put your priority in your assigned case. If any of the three cases gets too big or out of hand, I will take it up and continue the investigation on my own. Understood?"

Three "understood"s are said in reply. Red Robin and Robin dismiss themselves to prepare for patrol, but Nightwing stays by my side.

"Bruce, how are you holding up?"

"You know how I'm holding up."

"I'm trying to be encouraging here. At least say a feeling."

I just stare at him.

"Okay then, I guess I'll just give my spiel." He places a hand on my shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up over this. Sure, all this stuff is tough, but we'll get through it. We always do. We've been through tougher, right?" He gives me a small smile, but I don't smile back.

"I used to think you were some kind of unfeeling robot, you know. Back when you first took me in. Now I know better. You have feelings, you just have unconventional ways of expressing them. One of those ways is pushing yourself and working super hard to help the people you care about, even if it means crossing a few lines. We always forgive you...eventually... What I'm trying to say is that we care about you Bruce, and we don't want you to go too overboard trying to solve these cases. They're personal so they're a lot tougher. I know that I'm basically telling you to do everything that you taught me all those years ago, but here's something from my own experience: don't let it get to you. It's okay to take a break once in a while. I know that's not like you, and you may be a lost cause, but I'm just trying to tell you that I care about your well-being."

I spare him a grim smile. "I know you care, Dick. Thank you."

"Hey you thanked me! Cool!" He gives me a goofy smile, and I almost let a smile show. Sometimes he can be such a child. When he's like this, I remember his Robin days, what I like to think of as his happier days. Then I remember that he's still acting like a child, so he's still living the happy days.

"Well I better do a bit of patrol in the Financial District before I visit Autumn's crime scene and start up the investigation. Thanks for all that you do, Bruce." He pats my back and begins to head over to his cycle.

"One more thing." He turns around and faces me once he's next to his cycle. "You better bring my little sis back to me. She owes me some money." With that he hops on, throws me a smile, and rides off into the night.

Sometimes I forget he's my son, that I practically raised him, because now we're partners, allies, friends. I'm glad that I got to see him grow up and become who he is today. In truth, he hasn't grown out of his childlike spirit, throwing around smiles all the time. It only hurts to see him smile when I remember that he's only smiling to hide the pain he's feeling behind it.

****Break****

Tim's POV

This bites.

Three big cases, and which one do I get? The most boring and mundane one, of course. I guess someone has to run all these tests, but why did it have to be me? I'm sure Alfred would have been able to handle it all on his own. I don't mind the case itself – I want Jason alive and well as much as everyone else (even though I'll admit it's been nicer without his attitude around the house). I just really wish I could be doing more in-the-field investigation instead of all these tests. What's the point of wearing this costume if no one's gonna see it?

It doesn't matter if this is super boring. I just have to deal with it.

I check all the medical equipment surrounding Jason. His heart rate is faltering a bit, but it hasn't reached a life-threatening pace. Blood pressure's okay. Temperature's a bit higher than usual. Breathing's a little slow, but that's expected in his comatose state...

I continue to check all his life signs, and his signs show that he's healthy and alive for now, but there are signs that he's going to descend from his current health state to one of a sickly person. A completely accurate determination how long that descent will take will require at least three more days of observing and recording, but I doubt taking up that much time will come without a price. The best thing I can do is figure out how much time he approximately has left by the end of the night.

I have to figure out what's causing his coma, so I need to run a blood test. I'll be able to see if he's been drugged, if his immune system is failing, if he's lacking iron in his system, any of the possible causes of his situation. I'll also need to scan his brain to see if there's any direct problems up there.

I also need to figure out what he was doing the last few days before he fainted. I'll need to talk to Dick since he's known Jason the longest and knows his habits. Alfred as well. He usually knows everyone's whereabouts. I might even be able to go out to investigate some of his usual hangouts, but I'd have to do it soon or else people around those areas won't be able to remember ever seeing Jason passing through, which is no help.

I'm so caught up in my work and thoughts that I don't notice Alfred come up next to the computer with a tray until he speaks.

"Master Timothy, I brought you some snacks."

"Thanks Alfred." I say before I look away from the computer, waiting for the complete blood sample analysis. I look down at the cup of water and the plate of cucumber sandwiches. "I love these cukewiches!"

"You are welcome. How is the investigation going?"

I scoff and turn back to face the large computer, eating my tiny sandwich. "It's hardly an investigation. But it's going well. If going well means I've found absolutely no useful information. He seems perfectly healthy, except for the obvious fact that he's in a coma. And I have no information yet about what's in his system, but I will once the computer finishes its analysis. All I know right now is that Jason's health will fail over time, but I don't even know how long or how much."

"You will find what you need soon enough as long as you have determination and patience. Good things come to those who wait."

"Well I might just be waiting for bad news."

I hear him begin to say something, but he stops and takes back his words. He places the tray down and heads over to Jason in the med bay. All of a sudden, the steady beeping sound spikes from behind me. I whip my head around and see Jason convulsing on the bed as Alfred tries to hold him down. I run to them; his heart rate has increased, vitals are spiking, brain activity is fluctuating and breathing becoming ragged. My eyes widen at the sudden change of the atmosphere. "He's having a seizure!" I growl, trying to hold down his arms.

Jason continues to shake and tremble, not making holding him down any easier. "Jason!" I yell, holding his chest down with my entire weight as I wrap my arms around him. "Jason!" I am beginning to get scared...my heart is racing. "Jason, stop!"

Soon, his body calms down and he relaxes, still in his seemingly endless slumber and unknowing of the effects eating away at his body. Slowly, I slip my hands off of him and calm down as well, standing up straight but not taking my eyes off of his sleeping form.

Has Jason gotten thinner? Is he paler than usual?

Has he lost some of that bulk? He looks like something is literally eating away at him, like he's losing something important in order to survive. "Jay…" I mutter.

"Master Timothy…" a gentle pressure places itself on my shoulder, trying to comfort me in any way possible.

"He's getting worse, Alfred. We have to help him…I have to help him…" I say that last part more to myself than to Alfred.

Beep

My eyes shoot towards the computer and I immediately take a seat at the chair, typing anxiously. My eyes scan through the chemicals and nutrients found in his blood until I find only one thing that isn't supposed to be there.

My eyebrows furrow at the odd but familiar chemical formula found in the blood. A dangerous formula created by who knows what, meant to restore life in exchange for sanity. "Lazarus Formula." I mumble, frowning as I lean back and glare at the screen.

Alfred hovers over me. "Well there you have it Master Timothy, nothing seems out of the blue. The Lazarus formula isn't unusual in the blood of someone who has bathed in the pit after all."

I shake my head. "I know that Alfred but I have a hunch regarding that." The man behind me then nods and moves back to continue looking after Jason.

I move towards the chemical lab where a spot of Jason's blood lies under the microscope. Placing my eyes on the lenses and carefully zooming in, I observe and find a few green molecules moving ecstatically in a pool of red.

After taking my eyes off of the lenses, I go and open open up the freezer where countless labelled vials are preserved for future cases. I look through the labels and find the correct vial: a sample of Jason's blood collected by Bruce in the past just before Bruce found out the Jason was alive.

I convert the blood back into its liquid form before placing it under the microscope once again. As I look through the lense, my eyebrows furrow. Indeed, there are green molecules residing in the red blood, but comparing the amount of lazarus molecules in the two blood samples, there is a larger amount of lazarus molecules in this older vial than there is in the recent sample.

I look back to the recent sample which I labelled as J-02 to find that the lazarus chemicals are subtly breaking down. I nod determinedly, keeping both vials under observation for a couple of hours.

After two hours of waiting, I return to the blood samples. I begin with J-01, and notice that a few of the lazarus chemicals have broken down and have become less mobile. I write down my findings and collect the data before moving towards the J-02. My eyebrows shoot upwards and a sense of dread settles in my stomach.

There are less Lazarus molecules, reduced to tiny little dots that are hardly able to survive in the liquid. The green dots swim slowly in the blood, moving carefully as if they're trying to not be disintegrated. They slowly become less mobile, and their green glow is slowly diminishing.

In a matter of seconds, all of the green disappears.

But that isn't what makes me gulp.

Once all the green disappears, the blood begins to become paler as the red blood cells resemble those of a cadaver deteriorating after being buried for a couple of years.

I abruptly get up, almost toppling the chair, and rush over to Jason who lies completely still, his breathing becoming more ragged and his face somehow paler than a while ago. I carefully take his hand to observe it, and the dread in my stomach continues to spread and churn. The tips of his fingers are paler than the color of his body and his nails are beginning to becoming a bruised bluish purple.

"All of his dead blood cells are falling to his fingers." He's becoming a dead body, but somehow he's still breathing. His blood cells collapse as the Lazarus formula dies out. Before Jason came back, he was just a dead body until Ra's dragged him out and threw him into the pit. The Lazarus formula acted as crutches for all the life-giving systems in his body, allowing them to continue working once again.

But now the Lazarus formula that kept him alive is deteriorating and now he's dying. The formula, a result of the pit, is what kept his blood circulation going. Red blood cells are programmed to die and then be broken down in the body in order to be recycled and turned into new red blood cells. But because the Lazarus formula in his body is what kept that process going, the blood cells will die and stay dead just as he was once dead.

What I don't understand is how his blood cells are beginning to collapse but his lungs and heart are still working. If the cells are hardly circulating and continue to die then why is his heart still working? How is he still alive?

Then...then that means it's only a matter of time before his organs start–

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

I suddenly let go of his limp hand as the sleeping man chokes, his mouth opening as his lungs try to take in air, only to choke on the blood that shouldn't be in his lungs.

"Alfred!" I yell. The man dashes in and takes a good look at the blood flowing down Jason's mouth. "Call Leslie, now!"

***Break***

"What happened? Is he–" I was cut off by the woman's hand.

"We need to take him to a hospital. He has a punctured lung, broken ribs, a dislocated arm, and a fractured knee." She declares. "His breathing is only stable because I was able to re-inflate his punctured lung with oxygen. I could not relocate his arm nor fix his ribs or knee because his bones have become brittle and weak. They could easily break."

"I'm sorry Ms. Thompkins, but he has been bedridden for the past few weeks, and we hadn't noticed any further injuries when we had taken him in."

Leslie shook her head and took off her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. "The boy's bones have become brittle and after hours of observation, I've noticed that his tissue is weakening. We could be looking at a complete but slow organ failure. He is also slowly losing brain activity. His condition is much worse than it was five years ago, Alfred."

I shake my head, looking away. Could it be that he is reverting back to his state before he bathed in the pit? In that case then–

"Alfred." I turn my head towards the man, "Jason is dying. The Lazarus formula is only temporary; it eventually wears off. That's why Ra's has to constantly bathe in it. Jason is reverting back to the corpse he was before the Lazarus Pit and now…"

Alfred looks at me. "Now we must take him back to the Lazarus Pit."

I nod and turn around to walk away. "I have to talk to Ra's."

****Break****

Dick's POV

The carnival. A place where innocent kids have fun and play games. This wasn't meant to be a crime scene, much less the site of the murder of a young girl who didn't deserve to die the way she did.

This girl...Autumn...how could things go so wrong with her? How could I let things go so wrong? If I had just accepted her into the family, if she had felt more at home in the manor...then maybe she would've told us what was going on and how she got into this mess. Then maybe we could've prevented all of this from ever happening.

How could I have been so stupid?

I made the same mistake with Jason. All I saw him as was a street rat who got lucky and took my well-deserved title of Robin and turned it into something...something I had hoped it never would be.

I used to see Robin as a happy kid, someone who fought crime with a smile on his face in comparison to his brooding mentor. When I could no longer be Robin and have that same smile on my face every night, I knew that I had to leave the mantle behind.

Bruce respected the decision. I wasn't surprised, though, when a new kid bearing the mantle of Robin showed up in the newspaper. I'll admit I was jealous, but I also felt a bit sad, knowing that this new Robin would end up realizing he couldn't have that happy and innocent Robin attitude forever. He would have to sacrifice his title to maintain his sanity...like me.

What did surprise me was that he wasn't innocent at all. He came from the streets! He was plagued by the darkness of Gotham from the start. How could this kid, this angry boy with an attitude, be Robin? How could he possibly take my place? He wasn't who I had imagined...who I had hoped...would bear the mantle after me.

I couldn't accept the fact that this kid was going to taint the name I spent so long trying to create – the name my own mother had given me before she died...and so I took it out on him.

I regretted my actions. And I still do.

You would think that I'd learned my lesson – to give everyone a chance, because everyone is worth it – but evidently I didn't.

And now Autumn's dead.

I walk through the abandoned carnival, remembering how it was when I was a kid. The bright lights, the typical carnival music, the smiling children...the innocence...

I make my way to where Bruce found Autumn's body. The moment I spot the knives on the wall and the dried blood, my vision of what the carnival used to be immediately vanishes.

I examine the scene, looking for anything that is out of place, anything that could give me a lead about who murdered Autumn, or if Autumn was murdered at all. But there's nothing. No prints, no IDs, nothing. The crime scene is too perfect, as if I'm on a movie set. And no matter how careful a murderer is, there is always something that gives them away...

I've scoured this scene multiple times, and there is absolutely nothing here that could give me a lead. Which means...this was staged. It has to be.

I take multiple pictures of the crime scene for myself, even though I know Batman took his own set. I also bag one of the knives for examination later.

If I'm not going to find answers here, then I'll have to look somewhere else.

****Break****

You know what they say: a teenager's life is their phone. So the best place to start looking is Autumn's phone.

We already searched through her phone and found a very interesting call that she answered a few hours before her death. Whoever called her told her to go to the carnival that night. This would be a helpful lead if we could trace the call or strip away the voice modulation used by the mystery caller. The signal of the call was tampered with so it couldn't be traced, and there were so many layers of voice modulation that the Batcomputer couldn't strip it all away without taking away parts of untampered voice.

But maybe there's something else in there that I could use...

I take the phone out of it's plastic bag and look through her call history, voicemails, and texts.

Her most recent call is to a classmate of hers: Jake Rein. The call is suspicious, considering it was made later than the conversation with the mystery caller. But there's no way to question him since he's been absent from school almost as long as Autumn has been because of a family vacation. As much as I'd like to fly out to his vacation spot and get some answers, leaving Gotham is not the best choice, especially since the last thing this family needs is more people leaving.

Before the call to Jake Rein, she made a goodbye call to Chris...

There were no other calls until 4 days before her death, and they were all made to the same person: some guy named R. I count 30 calls to this "R". Whoever he is, he was probably important to Autumn, and they were probably really close. Maybe "R" knows something that could finally put me on the right path about Autumn's death. It's a bit of a stretch, but it's the best lead I've got.

I take a seat at the Bat Computer and access Gotham Academy's student files, searching for anyone named "R". Nothing comes up. Okay...so he's not a school friend. Where would she have met this kid? The streets maybe?

I switch from Gotham Academy files to Gotham PD files. If he's a street kid, then there's a possibility he's been brought in once or twice.

The computer scans the files of past reports. After a few seconds, a file pops up. Inside the file is a picture of a scraggly-looking boy with tousled dark hair and stormy gray eyes. Along with the picture is a report filed for attempted shoplifting. The kid's legal name is Noah Diaz, but his nickname is listed as "R". Probably some street name he uses, wonder where he and Autumn met.

I lean back on my chair, staring up at the computer at the scrawny kid's photo. I need to find this kid, maybe he knows what happened to Autumn. Maybe he knows something, anything, just something to get me out of this dead end. So I lean forward and dig deeper into his files to find his home address.

Just over by the East End. Perfect. Now I'd really like to know how Autumn came to terms with this kid. And how'd this get past us anyways?

So I scribble down his known home address and grab my keys. Hopefully he hasn't moved since the last time his file was updated.

****Break****

I know he's a street kid and everything. But I'd expected more. But then again, what do you expect from the East End of Gotham?

To be honest, it's not so bad on the outside – just like any other run down apartment this city has. Gray walls, gray floors, inside and out – probably a rickety old staircase infested with termites too. Luckily, I'm using the window tonight, although knocking on his door and waltzing in with a pizza delivery as Nightwing probably isn't a bad idea. Oh well, I'm already here; too late to back out now.

So I crouch down on the fire escape, opening the lock of the window from the inside after slicing a small hole in the glass. At least he's smart enough to keep the window shut – after all, the street kids of Gotham are almost as paranoid as Bruce.

The kid's not home yet, actually. I had already scanned for heat signatures in the apartment room and found nothing. So I guess I'll just wait for him to come back from whatever he does at this time of night and make myself at home.

It doesn't take long for me to lift the scratched and stained window up so I can easily slip inside and blend into the shadows. I take note of my surroundings in the dark, creeping along the walls and walking on the wooden floor.

Eventually, I choose to tread away from the window where the moon illuminates my insignia, and I move deeper into the cramped room. Well aware of the slight high creak the flood boards make, I step forward on the large square rug of the living room area (which I think is also the bedroom), skillfully avoiding the odd green stains clashing with the deep brown of the rug.

There's a table with a small television set on top by the wall and nothing else but a mattress with holes of stuffing and cigarette burns in the center of the room on top of the large rug. I move deeper into the room, ignoring the mark on the rug where a couch probably used to be and the itchy black blanket thrown carelessly on the mattress and nearly spilling on the floor.

Beside the television set is another room, and out of curiosity I open the door to find a bathroom with mold coming out of the edges of the cracked tiles and tangles of gray hair clogging the drain in the shower. The toilet lid is closed and something tells me I shouldn't open it.

But I trudge forward, fighting the urge to suppress a gag at the sour stench in the air, and examine the cabinet with the mirror above the sink that has dry grease stuck to the surface. I open the pale cabinet to find bottles and bottles of pills; most are painkillers, but there's some for the first stage of tuberculosis along with a prescription. No needles. No heroin. No crack. That's a good sign. But still, way too many painkillers for a kid his age to have.

I turn out of the bathroom, finding nothing (that and the stench was too much), so I continue into the small kitchenette with a (probably empty) fridge standing next to a dirty white counter where the metal sink is along with a few cabinets that has its paint peeling off, and a long island.

I notice a few papers along with a phone on top of the island and quickly move towards it. Might be his phone. The papers are hardly useful, but they are papers for admission into Gotham's Public High School, so might be a good idea not to touch them. Probably the best idea the kid's ever had.

So I grab the cell phone and search through the text messages and calls. For sure there were the 30 calls Autumn had sent him. Most calls were answered but I count three miscalls and voice messages on the days closest to her death. I play them…

6:10am. Thursday. "Hey R, wanna meet up? How about the arcade after class – can't go too far though, If you're busy, it's fine."

That was an early call, kid was probably asleep.

2:15am. Friday. "Hey...I know I'm annoying. Deal with it. It's 2am, couldn't sleep and you're probably out doing whatever the heck you're doing. I just really needed to tell you something, your name –R? I feel like a pirate when calling you."

There's one last call. Then none after that.

11:12pm. Sunday. "I'm going away for a while, I'm not sure when I'm coming back but don't look for me. But before I go, I need to tell you...thanks, for everything. You were there when I needed you most and you really helped me up especially when I was...down. I'm glad we met. Um...okay bye."

Going away for a while? Dammit. What the hell does that mean?

That last call was made on a Sunday, Autumn died on Monday. She said she had to leave and fight whatever did that. The way she talks in this, it's almost as if she knew she was going to die. The crime scene was staged. It had to be.

She could have been taken and her kidnapper had planted the evidence to try and mislead us. But Autumn said goodbye to all these people, so then she knew she was going to get kidnapped? But why fight? It doesn't make any sense.

Unless it wasn't anyone else who staged the fight. But Autumn herself. Then she would have faked her own death. But why?

Click.

Shit.

The door opens and a hand moves to the side of the door to flick the light on before it opens all the way. But I'm already out the window and on the next roof watching the kid through the binoculars in the eye-slits of my mask as he steps into his room and examines the whole place.

Not a good idea to let him know of my intrusion, knowing how violent these street kids can easily get, and surprising him won't do me any good either. I'll just re-stage my entrance through the window and talk to him like a normal person. Just him and Nightwing….

My eyes widen when a second person enters through the door…

…

Chris?!