Lacerations: Mended.

Ribs: Set.

Collar bone: Set and bandaged.

Fractures: Wrapped.

Bullet wounds: Shrapnel extracted and taped.

Alfred went over his mental checklist for the umpteenth time, making absolutely sure that all of the boy's injuries had been attended to as Bruce had specified. The only thing he didn't understand was why he was treating him.

Richard's heart had stopped one and a half hours ago. He was mending the wounds of a corpse.

But of course, he had to follow through with his charge's request. He knew what he was doing.

Young Richard had fallen into a deep sleep and Bruce intended to wake him up.

Bruce approached the table in silence, eyeing the stitched wound leading from Robin's left eye to the side of his cheek. He'll have these scars for the rest of his life…or he would have..

The dark haired man wiped the stinging tears that had begun to form once more in his eyes.

His son was dead. His little bird. The only light in the dark Hell he lived in. But he would bring him back. He wouldn't let everything slip away.

It had only been two hours. That was definitely enough time to revive Robin, at least by his standards.

His fingers gently brushed over the sutures that held the slice in the boy's neck together. He'd been sure to make Joker pay this time. The insane clown was never going touch Richard again…or anyone for that matter.

And so, with the same blade that killed the Boy Wonder, the Joker fell at the hands of the Dark Knight.

It was a brutal death, slow and painful. But for snuffing out a light so bright and pure as Robin's, in Bruce's eyes and in Batman's, he deserved to suffer.

"The wires have all been attached properly, Master Wayne. I suggest we make haste if you wish to see Master Richard alive by morning." He looked to see Alfred standing at the opposite end of Dick's bed, inserting a needle connected to an IV unit into the crook of the boy's skinny arm.

It was finally ready. Dick had been completely patched up and hooked up for a transfusion to be received upon his resuming somewhat stable activity.

"Then let's hope for the best."

The medical equipment began wirring, producing an electric shock that would, in a best case scenario, restart Richard's heart.

The bolt hit, and suddenly the teen's body on the table jumped, the heart monitor following suit.

Flatlining once more, another shock tore through him. This one lasted longer than the first, perhaps there was still hope!

But with hope came agony. There were burns on Robin's chest from where the metal panels and wires connected with his flesh. Bruce cringed at the sight of the irritated, raw skin, but knew they had to carry on with the procedure until something happened.

With one last jolt of electricity through his veins, Dick jumped a final time and went still. His heart was beating somewhat steadily at last, both Bruce and Alfred sighing heavily.

Things were finally looking up for the Dark Knight of Gotham.

He got back the thing he cared most about. He saved his baby bird.

With a gentle smile gracing his lips, Bruce walked to the top end of the table and placed a hand on Dick's shoulder. That's when it went wrong. The boy's chest was still, his lips a slight twinge of blue.

Devoid of breath. Devoid of air.

Dick Grayson wasn't breathing.