Disclaimer: there are many glitches in the world. Unfortunately the fact that I don't own young justice isn't one of them.

Can anyone explain why it's sometimes so difficult to get on this site to update? I mean seriously! This is like the second time this past week I've gone the whole day trying and failing to get into my account. D=(

So anyway, good news! Finished typing up this story on my own! Still going to pause this one in the near future though so I can have 'Where's Robin?' catch up though. That one may take a bit longer to update than this one too due to the fact I've been slowing down in my writing in general. But, when that one's done, so will this one. Then I'll focus entirely on 'Slade Plan B'. After that... well I'm not done with my ideas for Robin and the like quite yet.

Without further ado, the next chapter!

Without Me

Ch. 25 – Waking From Knightmares

Bruce didn't have any distinct memories beyond making a blow to Hal's face about fifteen minutes after making it to the mountain. Everything was in bits and pieces in his mind. He remembered something light tackling him, then later a sharp somewhat familiar pain coming through the weakest part of his armor. Then black. He remembered struggling against some bindings, hands, and a few voices telling him to calm down. There were a lot of lights and beeping, then someone screamed "SETTLE DOWN OR I'M CALLING ALFRED! THEY'RE TRYING TO SAVE YOUR LIFE BRUCE!" He recalled starting to hold still, then another sharp pain before black again.

His internal clock told him it was around three am when he really woke up and could think clearly. Scarecrow's last gas, he thought when it hit him the immediate effects were all he was going to deal with. Most times all you had to do was get some rest and you were fine the next morning. This one must have had hidden time release effects, making him lose his mind if he became too agitated. What triggered it? What did Hal…

Vaguely he recalled the pilot teasing him, caught between laughing at an inside joke and revealing a secret. He kept taunting him, over and over again. It had something to do with Robin. He just wanted the stupid flashlight to either tell him or not; going back and forth between the two options was juvenile. No wonder he lost his temper with the man.

As he opened his eyes, Bruce realized he wasn't wearing his mask, nor the top half of his uniform. IV drips and sensors were attached to his arms and chest, connecting him to the machines next to him. He recognized the room as the medical wing, specifically the bed on the north side closest to the far wall judging from the ceiling pattern above him. He was still strapped down, very well he might add. Not impossible to escape, but only if his mind was calm. Only a sane person could leave his situation without notifying others of his departure.

Slowly he did a bodily assessment, focusing on his physical symptoms. His four cracked ribs from last week were sore again; someone must have tackled his side. Tightness around his neck, someone had put him in a headlock. His knuckles on both hands ached; he had hit several hard things repeatedly. An ache just left of his diaphragm; the recent removal of Joker's bullet of that week hadn't finished closing. Hopefully someone repaired his stitches. A very slight prickling ache came from a blood vessel on his neck, right where a weak point in his cowl was. Someone with knowledge of his armor had injected him with something. The first sedative?

Who would even have that knowledge? Who had the information necessary to knock him out like this? It had to be someone skilled, someone close to him, someone who had access to just his cowl at one point. That narrowed the list considerably. Hal certainly wasn't on that list.

Hal.

Bruce's heart rate jumped as he jerked his head to the side to see if he could spot the Lantern, certain the man did not make it out of that fight without injury. Instead he saw a lightly dozing boy sitting in the chair beside him, a thick book dangling open in his lap. Beyond Dick was a drawn curtain, blocking his view of the majority of the room.

His heart almost stopped when he saw the boy. Why? Why was this kid sitting at his side, waiting for him to wake up? Shouldn't he be the most afraid of the rabid bat? Afraid the image of his mentor would shatter seeing him in this state? Disappointed he was so easily changed into a ferial animal? Enraged he attacked a teammate, maybe even…

Bruce closed his eyes in pain for a moment. This boy really shouldn't be at his side. He wasn't his Batman. The two of them should be strangers, unable to relate to each other at all. But here the kid was. By some impossible act of God, Dick was sitting at his bedside, just waiting for Batman to wake up.

What did his Batman do to gain such undying loyalty from this boy? Certainly the kid had better role models to choose from. He pictured himself a horrible mentor, one who'd push his student too far over the edge to mold him into an unyielding soldier. He knew he'd be a horrid father; he'd disappear at odd hours through the week only to reappear battered and bruised and too tired to care for his child. What kind of life could he offer a boy?

As these thoughts plagued his mind, the beeping above him varied. The change in the sounds alerted Dick, jerking him awake, sniffing slightly. He looked straight to Bruce's face, his blue eyes widening a fraction when they met the man's grays. He seemed to swallow something down before speaking. "Good morning. Welcome back to the land of the living."

Bruce blinked. "Did I die?"

The boy smirked. "No, but everyone else thought you would. Your heart rate nearly matched Flash's on a normal day for a while. Good for speedsters, bad for everyone else. Who were you fighting? Joker, Scarecrow, or Poison Ivy? I've got bets on Scarecrow. Joker would have made you laugh and Ivy would make you green."

"Go collect your reward then," the man muttered, turning his gaze upward again. He tried not to think so hard. His head was killing him. "How long was I out?"

"Out of it or unconscious?" Dick took a quick look around the room, probably for a clock

"Of it."

"It was around 8:20 when you went nuts and its… 3:09 now. So about seven hours. Your restraints are just in case J'onn's cure didn't take." The boy found a piece of paper lying about and shoved it in his book to keep his place. Bruce glanced at it from the corner of his eye. Great Expectations. Funny.

"I'm fine," Bruce insisted.

Dick gave a short disbelieving laugh in response. "Humor him. Stay there until they get back with the test results. Think anyone else in Gotham was infected?"

The man slowly shook his head as the boy started stretching out his arms and back. "Well that's good, but we better make extras just in case. This stuff attacked the primal sections of your brain and fed off of adrenalin from rage. There was also something in it making it easier for people to get angry. It basically makes walking-berserker-time-bombs. All it'd take is a persistent irritant and boom, everyone in the room beaten black and blue. Glad no one was singing.

"Hal's fine by the way," Dick interjected, having finally gotten all his kinks out. "What's a few ribs, a pretty face, a few teeth, a shoulder and a stomach anyway? He's resting in his room right now."

"Did you take me down?"

The boy froze for a moment, then slowly nodded, a slightly guilty look on his face. Bruce sighed heavily, pieces starting to fall into place. Of course this kid would know where the weak points in his uniform were. He probably used the antitoxin sedative to do it too. It was likely he had to do this before, to his Batman. Being Batman's partner would mean knowing how to stop him when necessary.

"Sorry."

The man jerked his gaze back to the boy, looking at his feet in shame of what he did. Bruce blinked in surprise. He was apologizing? "Why? You did what you had to."

"I know," Dick answered, still not meeting his eyes, "but still… Sorry."

He watched the kid for a moment, then looked up and down him, assessing his situation. There was a light trace of a bruise around his neck, but it was a couple days old. One of his shoulders seemed a little stiff and he supported one side more than the other. No visible bandage lumps under the kid's clothes, but there wasn't a chance the boy managed to take down Batman without sustaining some kind of injury.

"How extensive are your injuries?"

At this Dick shifted and looked away uncomfortably, even more so than before. "Not bad. A few bruises. Nothing I haven't had before. Would have had less if I thought of the sedative first."

"Shoulder and ribs."

'Caught' was clearly written across his face, then Dick pouted childishly as he retorted. "I hate it when you do that. And for your information, you only made my shoulder worse. I already had a bruise there from Sportsmaster, then Superman decided to grab it when I got back. It's not that bad."

"You should get them looked at," Bruce concluded.

The kid huffed, not looking at him still. "Clark already did. Nothing's broken and they aren't that bad, so what can they do? I found some pain killers after you actually settled down, but that's about all anyone could do."

"You get hurt often." It was a statement, not a question.

He nodded. "Comes with the territory. Plus I'm a bit of a daredevil. I get hurt just having fun."

Bruce grunted. Circus kid, born acrobat, raised vigilante. Of course he'd have injuries ever other day. He doubted the boy went a week without some part of his body being oddly colored. He looked over the kid again, noting now small yet muscular the boy was. This child, probably no more than a hundred pounds, took him down when a man at least twice his size and age couldn't. And all he had was a few bruises. Incredible.

"Reckless." He looked towards the ceiling as he concentrated on getting out of his bonds. His nose was starting to itch. He heard a short muffled laugh as he turned one wrist towards the edge of the belt keeping him down.

"Yeah, guess I am," Dick agreed. There was a slightly endearing tone to his voice, giving Bruce reason to pause. The first part of the belt was out of its loop, now to loosen it out of its clasp. "Should I time you?"

The dark knight cast an annoyed glare the kid, who finally looked him in the eye, a touch of amusement on his face. Dick knew exactly what Bruce was doing, and he wasn't going to try to stop him. Rather it looked like he just wanted to watch the show.

"Why are you here?"

The boy looked like he was on the verge of laughing about something. "That's a rather philosophical question. Care to be a bit more specific?"

'Walked right into that one,' Bruce chided himself mentally. "Why are you sitting at my bedside right now? Why were you waiting for me to wake up?"

Dick blinked, his eyes widening a fraction in surprise. More than likely he was expecting a gruffer response, but Bruce didn't want to scare the kid any more than he already had. He had enough of them that night. He looked away a little, again unsure of himself.

"Um… I just… I figured you'd want answers right away and I didn't exactly have anything better to do…"

Bruce watched the boy shift uncomfortably, trying to find an answer. But the answer was becoming apparent with every excuse and shift in the boy's body. He was just worried about him. Dick only wanted to make sure Batman was alright, even if he wasn't the Batman he grew up with. He cared, it was as simple as that.

Tempted to let the boy fidget a little longer, Bruce recalled how late it was. "Isn't it past your bedtime?"

"Ahhh….." Dick turned his head completely away, having no excuses to say. Oh yes, even his Batman didn't let him stay up past three am. The kid rubbed his head and tried to divert the question. "What's a bedtime? I don't sleep, I run off cookies."

"Nice try," he answered dryly. "Get some sleep kid."

The boy pouted again, glaring slightly at the man. "Only if you promise to be good and be here when I wake up. You're not in the best condition either you know, and the others are worried. I wasn't kidding when I said I'd call him you know."

"So that was you making the threat." Bruce smirked in spite of himself.

"Darn straight. You nearly pulled Clark's arm out if his socket!" He stood up from his chair, giving him a reproving glare. "I may have given him a rough time lately, but seriously, that hurts. And he was just trying to pin you down. You better give him a proper apology when he comes back."

"And you better get some rest before we both get in trouble," the man bantered back. They both looked into each other's eyes for a moment then smirked knowingly. There was some fondness in the kid's eyes, telling the detective he spoke often to his Batman this way and received the same response.

"Fine," Dick relented. He walked around the chair to the bed behind it and climbed on top, much to Bruce's surprise. The boy pulled off his shoes quickly, then laid on his side, facing the dark knight. There was a somewhat childlike tone to his voice when he repeated his condition. "Promise you'll stay here until I wake up okay?"

Bruce sighed, giving in. One hand restraint was already taken care of, but he had no intention of leaving the bed. "Fine. Just get some sleep Dick."

The boy smiled. "'Kay. Goodnight Bruce."

Within seconds the man heard the boy's soft breathing regulate, going peacefully to a dreamless sleep. Bruce watched him as he slowly finished undoing his bindings, wondering yet again how this boy's Batman had earned his undying trust. This boy's love. How had the man managed it?

He shook his head, hoping to clear it. He knew he did nothing to earn the concern or care from this child. Dick's emotions and mind were influenced by memories of his own Bruce Wayne who raised him and the sleep deprivation he gained from waiting so long for him to wake up. There was no logical reason for this boy to be attached to him. No sound reason for Bruce to grow any fondness for this boy.

But he had. Despite everything he told himself, despite putting as much distance between himself and this boy, he had.

Ever since that first night he heard the boy cry out in his sleep for Batman, he felt responsible for the boy. Maybe even before that, when he saw the child's eyes and knew he was Richard Grayson, a boy who died over five years ago. A boy he failed to save once.

Now he slept in the bed across from him, a hero from another world similar to their own. A hero who took on criminals without any fear, directed misguided people down correct paths, and valiantly held his ground against those stronger than him believing they were in the right. Robin was an unbelievably great kid, with a wonderful future ahead of him. He only wished he could see it.

And if he wanted to see it, he had no doubt his Batman wanted to see it too.

For a few minutes he thought on this. If in a few days, and fewer meetings, he had become fond of this child, how would his other self, having been with this child for five years, feel if this boy was ripped away from him? Remembering the pain he felt when his parents were killed, he could only imagine it was similar to that. He never wished that pain upon anyone.

He looked back to the sleeping child, seemingly unaware of the painful truth he and the League hadn't yet told him. Even if they found a method to transport him through dimensions, the likelihood of him going back to his original world was minimal at best. So many possibilities, so many ways things could go wrong. And the boy would be alone again, possibly in greater danger than he was when he suddenly arrived in their world.

Slowly Bruce pulled off the monitoring devices and slid out of the medical bed. He turned the chair between them around, pulling the IV drip over to its side before wrapping a blanket around his shoulders and sitting down. For a moment he pulled the boy's blankets up to his chin and allowed himself a smile when Dick snuggled even further into the bed as a result. Settling back into the chair, Bruce kept his eyes on the boy, running plans through his mind.

If they truly couldn't find a way to send the kid to his home, then he would take care of the boy. He'd do it for Dick's Batman's sake. He'd do it for the Grayson's sake. Most of all, he'd do this for Dick. He needed Batman, and he was the only one available.

A/N: And with that happy note, we have DaddyBats coming out in full! i knew he was in this bruce somewhere. Just know that because of this subtle change in the man, Dick's behavior is going to change. Plus there's been a lot of things going on in the boy's head. jsut an FYI for the near future. The whole transferring people through dimensions kinda comes from Sliders (anyone else remember that show? best one out there when talking about multiple universes). it really is dangerous for someone to go from one reality to another without some way to make sure you can go back home.

I was originally going to have a scene with Bruce and Dick talking about that book he was reading and then have two talking until late, but this came out better this way. Timing just changed. The book was a bit of a joke on my part. Everyone really does have "great expectations" of Dick and his future. no pressure on the kid. it's just one of the books on his english reading list he hasn't gotten to yet, that's all.

I really liked the two's banter, especially when it came to bedtimes. Running off of cookies was a joke starting from 'Double Take', and I think it's a joke everyone plays with Alfred and the Robins. Everyone loves his cookies and pretty much run off them. =P