[IN THE END] - DICK GRAYSON - YOUNG JUSTICE

CHAPTER 25A

Long time no post... I apologize for that.  Anyway here is Part A.  B is close to follow, and Part C will without a doubt be posted tomorrow. 

It's unbelievable that this story is coming to an end, and I feel like I just posted chapter one yesterday.  Comment and keep reading!  Thanks!

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A few weeks later, Richard remembered everything, and was back to normal.  He was trying to move past the previous events, and was doing pretty well.  He was in the study reviewing the Wayne Enterprise papers, taking the offer very seriously.  He was honored to be given such a great opportunity.  He sat in the bulky recliner, facing his parents, wearing nothing but a pair of thin pajama pants, and a plain white tee shirt.  He turned the page, eyes glued to the documents, loudly coughing.  Alfred walked in minutes later, staring at the boy.  "Put some clothes on!  You'll catch a bloody cold!"  Alfred shouted as he placed a tray of warm cookies on the side table.

"No Alfred, it is increasingly hot in this room.  Can you please turn the temperature down?"  His tone filled with seriousness.  "Master Richard..."  Alfred looked outside, a world of white.  The teen stood up from the chair placing the file on the table beside him, picking up the cookies.  He made his way out of the room, beginning to walk up the stairs.  "Thank you."  He said walking into his room.  He could faintly hear Alfred yell back after shutting the door and peeling of his shirt.  He walked around his room, still not cold what so ever.  In fact he was hot.  He went into his closet fetching his fan, plugging it in quickly.  He sat down on the bed letting the cool air hit his body, looking out the window as snow fell from the sky. 

Richard soon woke up due to his coughing.  He sat up, the inside of his elbow to his face.  A massive amount of heat surged through his body, causing him to jump up and race to his dresser.  He pulled out shorts, swapping them for his pants, and paced throughout his room still coughing. 

He looked over to the plate of cookies, changing his direction to go and grab one.  He took one bite before he placed it back on the plate.  He finished chewing the small piece he had in his mouth.  They were still excellent, it was hard for Alfred to screw up, but he just didn't feel like eating.  He grabbed the water to wash down the snack.  Suddenly he heard Alfred call for him.  "Master Richard!"  He yelled.  "It's time for dinner!"  Richard brows wrinkled.  'Dinner?'  He thought to himself.  'How long have I been out for?' 

He opened the door slightly, still hiding behind it as he answered.  "I'm not hungry."  After he said it he brought his hand to his mouth in shock.  His voice was all over the place, his throat had been so dry.  "Master Richard you really need to eat!"  Alfred refuted.  Richard did miss lunch.  "I really don't feel like it!"  He tried.  His voice was still wobbly.  Alfred became confused now that he heard him speak again.  He looked up to check on him, but by the time he had, the door had been shut. 

Alfred made his way back to the kitchen giving Bruce a long stare.  "What happened?"  Bruce wondered.  "I have no bloody idea."  Alfred responded.  "Go up to his room after dinner and see what his deal is.  He has been acting weird lately."  Bruce gave him a nod.  "I'm mean I've noticed that he hasn't been himself, but why do you say he is acting weird?"  Alfred just rolled his eyes.  "He just is.  It's less than ten degrees outside yet he has been prancing around in tee shirts and shorts.  Tell me that's not weird..."  Alfred noted while handing Bruce his plate. "I guess it is."  The younger man began to eat. 

Richard was upstairs laying on his bed, still in just shorts.  The fan was as high as it could go, yet he was still hot.  He brought his hand to his head in frustration.  He sat up, as his shoulder began to burn.  His hand made its way there, beginning to scratch.  He hadn't taken his hand away for close to ten minutes, leaving his shoulder completely red and ashy.  He then got the same burning sensation on his opposite arm, and he began to scratch that as well.  It wasn't until he actually saw the outcome of his scratching that he realized he had developed a rash.  He got up to go to his bathroom, but it was if all of his energy had been sucked out of him.  Minutes later, he finally arrived, busting open his medicine cabinet to get a cooling cream.  He ripped off the cap throwing it in the corner, marinating his skin with the gel.  His eyes squeezed together as the two afflicted areas felt as though they were on fire.  He grabbed a towel, soaking it in cold water, attempting to rub off the cream.  He took a deep breath as the cool towel washed away the smoldering feeling.  He threw the wet rag into his bath tub, looking down at his arm.  The rash was more aggravated than it had been before.  He turned in the mirror realizing he had the same results on his shoulder as well.  He was more than tempted to scratch, but he knew it would make things worse.  He then came up with a quick solution, pulling out a first aid kit.  He wrapped tape around his arm, practically cutting off his circulation.  He then slapped more tape on his shoulder, despite how hard it was.  The bathroom became overheated, causing him to return back to his actual room where the fan was.  He slowly made his way to his bed, collapsing upon it when he came close.  He laid in the center, staring at the ceiling, attempting to restrain himself from scratching. 

Around ten, Bruce entered Richard's room tugging at his sleeves from the cold winds.  He then saw Richard, wearing close to no clothes, a look of confusion growing.  He was about to say something when he realized that Richard was asleep.  He walked over to his bed, even more perplexed when he saw his taped shoulder.  He tried to avoid that, pulling the comforter over Richard's body.  He then walked over to the fan, unplugging it, taking a deep breath as the room got sufficiently warmer.  He sat down in his desk chair, watching Richard like a hawk.  The snow outside had progressively morphed into hail as the minutes passed, little thumps overheard as they hit the roof. 

It had been fifteen minutes since Bruce tampered with the temperature, when Richard woke up to a halt.  He threw the blanket to the side, still not noticing Bruce who sat in the darkness.  Bruce watched as Richard attempted to get up, struggling as it took him a while to stand.  Bruce opened his mouth to say something, but things got progressively weirder.  Richard stumbled over to the fan, turning it back on.  He then felt his arm, the tape still around it.  Bruce watched his facial expressions blur together, as he suddenly ripped the tape off, and began to anxiously scratch. 

Bruce didn't want to startle him, but he knew something was wrong.  He waited until Richard was back in the bed before he made his way over.  Richard flinched as he saw the figure appear from the shadows.  Bruce picked up the comforter, the thumps from the roof getting louder.  "Richard, it is hailing out there.  You have a fan on in here.  And almost no clothes on."  Richard just gave him a nod, shoving his afflicted arm behind his back.  Bruce tried to put the comforter on top of Richard but he wouldn't accept.  "No... no what are you doing?  It's hot it here."  Bruce squinted his eyes as he got a closer look at Richard.  He was as pale as a ghost.  "Richard I think you're sick.  Come on you need to bundle up."  Bruce marched towards the door and called for Alfred asking him to bring some medicine.  "No Bruce nothing is wrong with me I'm fine..."  Richard insisted. 

Bruce then realized he was hiding his arm from him.  "What happened to you arm?"  Bruce questioned.  Richard closed his eyes and lightly shook his head.  "Nothing is wrong..."  At that Bruce reached over him, grabbing it to see for himself.  It was a bright red, somewhat  bumpy, and dry.  "How did this happen?" Bruce asked quietly.  "I don't know, I was just itchy."  Richard pulled his arm away.  "This is on your shoulder too isn't it."  Richard didn't answer, allowing Bruce to understand that he was right. 

Alfred burst through the door, carrying cold medicine.  Richard gave him a glare.  He began to cough again.  "I don't need that."  He managed to squeak out.  "I'm hot.  I don't have a cold."  He protested.  At this point he was sitting up.  Bruce ripped off the tape on his shoulder to show Alfred.  "He has it on his arm as well."  The butler put the medicine on the nightstand, running into the bathroom to grab cream.  He came back out, the substance already on his hands, and before Richard had the chance to tell Alfred, the old man was slathering over the rash.  Richard let out a scream.  "Get me cold water!"  He yelled.  Bruce ran into the bathroom, coming back out with a wet cloth.  He set the fabric over the area, and despite the fact the water was frigid, Richard had no reaction.  After his body cooled down from that, it began to heat back up.  His back collapsed onto the bed in frustration.  "It's so hot in here."  He moped.  His body became sweaty.  Bruce and Alfred looked at eachother.  The next thing Richard knew, he was being carried downstairs, to soon be placed in the back of a car.

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I warn you Part B will be short, but tomorrows update will be rather lengthy so I promise it will be worth it...

Thanks again!