He's been waiting ever so patiently for wee Toddy to wake up, but it's been four hours and he's soooooo bored. What's a man gotta do for some entertainment down here, he'd like to know?

He gives him an experimental little poke, right where he knows there's a puncture wound, but nada. The boy remains still and silent on the operating table, wheezing through cracked lips. He's no fun like this. This is almost as bad as the time Harley hit him too hard and he tried to die then and there, five months in. Humph. Really, Bats, don't you prepare your little birdies for anything?

A thought strikes him and he leans over, pinches Jason's lips and tries to twist them up into a smile. He isn't good at smiling, not without help. The only real one had to be induced with a hit of his specially patented Laughing Gas, and that wore off. The current result is...poor...and he lets go, gives the kid a light smack on the cheek for good measure. The art squishes. Whoops, forgot all about that, but, well, he can't be expected to remember everything. Nobody's perfect.

He kicks his legs against the table's, sighs, and regrets, for a grand total of three seconds, shooting him. If he'd known it would take this long for him to wake up from surgery, he maybe would have done it when he didn't have so much time to kill.

…

Or at least not killed the doctor so fast. Oh, well…

He's just thinking that maybe he'll see what happens if he gives the boy another hit of Laughing Gas-will it wake him up, or will he giggle himself to death while remaining unconscious?-when Jason's breathing changes.

His smile grows wider and he slithers over to crouch just by his head, so his poor, abandoned baby won't worry that he's been left alone after such a terrible event. He deserves to wake up and know that somebody out in this big, cruel world loves him enough to sit with him and hold his hand and reassure him that he'll never be abandoned again.

And also tell him that if he ruins the fun, a little bullet will be the least of his problems.

"Todders…" he croons, strokes his hair and immediately regrets that because yeesh, when did this kid have a bath last? Harley has one job… "Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey!"

Jason's eyes flutter open. He's such a good boy now. It's taken some time, and some drugs, and more than one talking-to, but they've reached a point that he won't flinch no matter how much his personal space is invaded. Doesn't protest, either, just waits. Finally, he's got the message that children should be seen and not heard.

Progress!

"There you are," he says, and Jason blinks, face blank. Well, he can forgive a lack of greeting. Just this once, for the anesthesia. That's hardly his fault, after all. "Have a good sleep?"

"Yes, sir," he mumbles. Good. Good!

"That's what I like to hear!" He leans over and kisses his cheek. "Now, you just rest up, and your old Uncle J will have some fun new games ready for you very soon."

Silence for a few extra seconds, and he's just starting to frown when Jason nods, slow and careful. His eyes are very shiny. Oh, he's not going to cry out of joy, is he?

"Thank you, sir."

Good.

"That's what I like to hear, Todders." He stands up, pats the bandages to make sure they're in place. "That's what I like to hear."

THE END