It was a fairly normal night; or at least, as normal as things got in Gotham City.

Petty criminals were out and about, robbing citizens, police officers were trying and failing to catch them all, and Batman was once again dealing with his nemesis; the Joker.

While the villain had kept a fairly low profile since escaping from Arkham several weeks prior, that had not stopped Batman from tracing his location. After all, it was much safer for everyone if Joker was returned to his cell in Arkham as soon as possible.

It had been hard to track him down, although the suspicious lack of Joker caused destruction did make Batman all the more eager to find the villain.

Still, it had taken him days of searching to finally discover Joker's latest hideout, an abandoned factory on the very outskirts of Gotham City, partially hidden by woods.

After some careful scouting around the building, something that revealed nothing besides a few easily knocked out goons, Batman slipped into the building through a broken window. He made fast work of the guard stationed in that room before moving on, his mask automatically switching to night vision as he traversed deeper into the building.

The place was swarming with goons, but he had yet to find any sign of Joker. If anything, this was proving to be more of a nuisance than anything.

Batman stepped out into a larger room, the space noticeably missing guards. As he scanned for any signs of life, infrared picked up on a person in one corner, hidden by crates of what he could only presume to be weapons.

"I don't have time for your games, Joker."

He strode forward, batarangs at the ready. However, what he found was far from the villain that he expected, and he barely contained a gasp of horror.

Chained to the wall were the bodies of three boys, although judging from his scan, either only one was still alive, or he had just joined the others in death. All three looked like they had been tortured, blood splattered over the walls and pooling around them, their ragged clothes doing little to hide the fact that they had been starved.

It looked like someone had drawn smiles on each of their faces with blood.

Batman fought the urge to gag as he knelt down next to the boys, pressing his fingers to their necks one by one as he sought after a pulse.

Please let them still be alive.

By the time he reached the third and smallest of the group, Batman could feel the fury building. If they were all dead... no. He could feel it. The pulse was faint, but it was there.

He could save one.

Of course, things were never that easy. Just as he reached to break the chains holding the boy to the wall a very familiar voice spoke up.

"Do you like my playthings, Batman? They've been so helpful." Joker laughed as he stepped into the room, flanked by half a dozen goons. "You can't take them now. I've almost finished my experiment."

Batman growled standing up to face his adversary. He was angry.

Beyond angry.

"You killed two children, Joker."

"Dead? No, no. That won't do at all. This is the third batch that hasn't made it." Joker tilted his head to the side, eyeing the bodies of the chained boys. "Oh, goodie! One's still kicking."

"You're going back to Arkham." Batman spat, fighting back harsher words. Bantering with the villain was not something he had time for. The third boy needed immediate medical attention.

His time was running out.

And with that thought, Batman lunged into action.

~•~

Hours later Batman sat in his cave, shoulders slumped as he gazed intently at the computer screen in front of him.

Five surgeries.

A seemingly endless amount of blood transfusions.

Enough broken bones and internal damage to leave at the very least scars for life, at the worst lifelong disability.

Numerous unknown and probably deadly drugs.

And possibly worst of all, a brain injury.

Medically induced coma.

The words lingered on the screen along with an image of the boy practically mummified by bandages and casts lying unconscious on a hospital bed.

With a long sigh, he closed down the page only to pull up another, fingers typing furiously.

It only took a few hours of digging to identify the boy and the other two that had been found with him. All had been in the system and could be traced to a boy's home which had been closed a few years prior due to suspicions that it was linked to trafficking.

The three boys that he had found were among many that had disappeared from the house at various points in time before it was shut down.

Batman was quick to forward that information along to the police, along with their names: Henry Lee, George Wood, and Richard Grayson.

Richard Grayson.

The only survivor.

While both of the dead boys had living relatives, although, considering the fact that Henry's mother was a prisoner at Belle Reve and George's parents were known gang members, they might have been better off without them, Richard Grayson was a confirmed orphan, parents having died in a circus accident leaving no living relatives.

Even if the boy were to heal and be alright, he would have nowhere to go except the system which had so clearly failed him already. If, as seemed likely, he came out of this severely disabled, things would only be that much worse.

Batman might have rescued him, but there would be no happy ending.

Not unless Batman took some responsibility.

After all, the boy had been tortured at the hands of his foe. The boy was an innocent.

With a final sigh, Batman pulled up the image of Richard Grayson in the hospital bed once more.

His mind was made up.

"Everything okay, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, setting a cup of coffee down on the desk as he turned his gaze to look at the screen, smile shifting into a frown as he saw the image displayed there.

Bruce nodded, turning to look at the older man, one eyebrow slowly raising in question. "Do you think I would make a good parent, Alfred?"

Alfred gave him a knowing smile.

"Of course, Master Bruce. Of course."

~•~

Bruce Wayne signed the adoption papers the next day, and Alfred began setting up a room for the boy.

Unfortunately, a reporter had spotted Bruce visiting the hospital and thus the entirety of Gotham City knew of his adoption even before Dick woke up.

And, as the days bled into weeks with little sign of improvement, the possibilities of waking Dick up became slimmer and slimmer.

Bruce and Alfred made a point to visit the boy most days, even though he would not know they were there, or even who they were.

Nearly a month after his rescue, the doctors deemed his brain healed enough to bring him out of the coma.

As the drugs that had kept him under filtered out of his system, Bruce stayed by the bedside of his son.

For three days, Batman disappeared.