AN: Ok, here I go again with another update! I apologize for the really long wait…for some reason this chapter was hard to write, and I let out my creative frustration on a Daddy-bats fluffy one-shot which can be found on my profile. It's called "Birdie in a Basket".

Anyways, we left off with Robin being shot with a dart, now Bruce needs to help his boy while tracking down the Joker and crew at the same time.

Side note, Nightwing won't be killed during Villains Month…just scarred for life. At least he won't die :D

Music inspired this chapter! Some lyrics have been altered and used when writing. Now enjoy! :D

WARNING: Angst

Chapter Four:

Batcave, located in Gotham City of course.

It had been exactly two excruciatingly long days since the Joker incident. Bruce was getting worryingly frustrated. He had spent almost the entire past forty-eight hours in the depths of the cave where he could do his research and also keep an eye on Dick who was currently recovering in a medical bed. Based on the events that he recalled, it was possible that he was dosed twice with the chemicals that he had found in the dart. A first dose, when they were both unconscious and the second one…well he witnessed it for himself.

That night when he brought him back to the cave—it was quite a painful night. Right after he cut off the thick restraints that kept his son's wrists together, he held him tightly in his arms as he sent an alarm to the Batmobile to come to their location. As soon as it arrived he placed him carefully in the passenger seat and drove immediately back home.

Dick had not woken up since then. After getting checked up on by both their butler, Alfred Pennyworth, and their personal physician Dr. Leslie Thompkins, he was deemed at the moment stable, but unless an antidote could be found to flush the mysterious chemicals out of his system—it was almost impossible to tell when (or if) he would wake up.

The third day was arriving and Bruce still sat in front of the computer with a tray of untouched food that was literally handed to on a silver platter off to the side. His hands ran messily into his hair and covered his face. He had looked at the small sample of the chemical that was still left in the dart and had even taken a blood sample from the already infected Dick, but things still weren't adding up.

The Joker is clever, but not that smart, he thought. He cannot be doing this on his own. Harley Quinn used to be a clinical psychiatrist; maybe she still has some sanity in her and is using it against us.

As he thought, he could hear the beeping of the heart monitor in the background. Dick's heart monitor. He hated thinking about that. It was times like these that he thought about the choices he made in his life. Was he doing the right thing for him?

Apparently not.

Was it a wise choice to recruit his adopted son into the lifelong battle against crime? Would their relationship be any different if he had never become Robin?

Of course it would. Our favorite topic of conversation is our night jobs and ways to improve our strategies…a thirteen year old shouldn't be having conversations like that with his father figure.

He got up from his chair and walked over to check up on him. Since that night he had surrounded the medical area with a pale-colored curtain. It was hard to work when you could see one of your loved ones in a comatose state. The silhouette was still visible whenever he would turn his head, but it hurt a lot less than seeing the actually uncovered body.

He pushed the curtain aside, stood over the bed and observed Dick's overall physique. Pale face, normal breathing (thank god), messy black hair…closed eyes. Aside from the paleness, anybody else would have thought that he was just sleeping. That's what probably hurt the most. He expected Dick to just open his big blue eyes at any given moment and ask him what time it was. That wasn't going to happen anytime soon unless he could find an antidote.

As he looked, he still continued to think about that night. The possible two doses of that chemical, but when he had the first dose he managed to wake up hours later—what was so different about this second one? If they were different chemicals, then why use a changed one afterwards?

Bruce had been grateful that for the past few nights his presence wasn't so needed. The murders of the families had stopped since the night Batman and Robin tried to stop Joker. He would spend almost the whole night looking for Joker's whereabouts—searches that resulted fruitless—before eagerly returning home to continue researching and checking on Dick's progress. The Joker was being too quiet…

He would spend a few minutes just staring into his son's face as he held his cold seemingly lifeless hand in his own. Sing for me my little bird, he mentally pleaded. Practically all alone with my fear of losing you, I don't want this anymore.

If he ever managed to get Dick out of this predicament, he would have a talk with him to make him retire the Robin identity...it'll crush him, but he means too damn much to me.

…If he ever wakes up.

He turned back and closed the curtain as he went back to the computer to continue working. As he was about to settle into the chair again, the bothersome beeping from the heart monitor stopped.

For a second, he felt relief that it had stopped annoying him…only to mentally face-palm and remember that someone very important to him was connected to it. He immediately turned around and stopped before taking another step forward.

He marveled at the view in front of him: the silhouette of Dick's body was no longer lying down. Through the curtain, the silhouette was reflected as a pale dark green form—a pale dark green form that was in a slumped sitting position on the bed. He started running and unintentionally pushed away the curtain a little harsher than intended as it nearly was ripped off from the rings.

Behind that curtain…was Dick looking up to his mentor was the bright blue eyes that Bruce had been dying to see for the past few nights. The boy had disconnected himself from the monitor and held the wires in his hand.

For what seemed like an eternity, neither of them said anything until Dick broke the silence. "Bruce…" he said, "what happened?"

Bruce then instantly enveloped his son into a hug. He rubbed his back and gently tugged his messy black hair. "The chemical wore off." He answered. "And you're fine."

They stayed in that position for a while longer. "I'm sorry." Dick said in a hushed tone.

AN: YES, THAT WAS INCREDIBLY SHORT AND I HIGHLY APOLOGIZE FOR THAT BUT I DID IT FOR REASONS THAT YOU WILL SEE LATER. I ALSO APOLOGIZE FOR MAKING YOU WAIT SO LONG JUST FOR THIS CRAPPY CHAPTER. I HAVE GOTTEN PAST THE HARD PART…and I realize that the plot hardly progressed…yes this is the worst chapter ever but I will make it up with something awesome soon. Have a nice day!