"Call them back."

"I..." Bruce stumbled over his thoughts, swallowing convulsively. The new Batman looked down at him kindly. Bruce slumped down into his chair.

"I know this is hard, but you agreed to trust me." He looked back to the computer screen. "So, call them back." The private gentleness of this Bat was strange for Bruce but, somehow, encouraging. He switched open the BatClan's radio frequency.

A breath. A sigh. He was stalling. The future Batman didn't say anything. "Nightwing. Batgirl. Come home." As Bruce dropped his head in his hands the line filled with protests. They felt like they were abandoning him, Bruce knew, he felt it too. He was allowed to stay still, on the verge of tears for quite some time; until Batman's soft voice broke into his melancholy.

"It's been a half an hour. You'll have to ask them again." Sad blue eyes looked at the hand that settled on his shoulder. The gloves had returned, but it was still warm. Comforted, Bruce keyed the radio once again. He closed his eyes, taking in the support lent so strongly, by just that one hand. "Please come back. I need you here."

And this time, when the hero dropped his head into his hands he did cry. And this time, young Batman pulled him to the floor, into his arms.

They stayed like that for twenty-five minutes until Nightwing slipped quietly into the cave. He stood looking at the computer, expecting Batman to be waiting. The he looked up the stairs, hoping for Alfred. Then Batgirl arrived.

"Over here." A voice called to them. Nightwing motioned to Batgirl, signaling that the voice had come from near the brain of the Bat Cave. They moved cautiously toward the monolithic computer. To the left of the chair was a massive pile of black. A massive pile of black with a pointy-eared head. They stared. A hand lifted out of the pile and began to card through, what was upon closer inspection, a dark head of hair. The Bat Face looked down at the head murmuring, "C'mon Bruce."

There was a tired "...mmm" and half the pile sat up. Nightwing and Batgirl were still staring, but now even more baffled. Batman was sitting on the floor, blinking up at them, cowl off, sitting next to another Batman. How the heck did that happen? And even weirder, he seemed to have been sleeping in this guys embrace. Batgirl thought for a second that she might faint.

Nightwing found his voice. "What is going on here!" He was suddenly yelling, his face contorted with anger. "You call us in here when we should be out searching for Timmy and we come back to find you SLEEPING!" By this point he was breathing heavily and tears had gathered in the angry wrinkles around his eyes.

"Dick, Barbra; this is my replacement from the future. He has a plan to get Tim back."

"Yeah? And what's that." Barbra sounded rather cross as well.

"We-" Bruce faltered. "We let the Joker give Tim back." Nightwing and Batgirl were back to being dumbstruck. Future Batman decided to keep going before they started yelling again.

"You let me do all the work. Then we let psychology do the rest." Barbra and Dick now stared at him in disbelief. "And trust me, if it doesn't work; the delay certainly can't make things worse." He stood up. "Will you trust me?"

They nodded, mouths hanging open slightly.

"Schway."

The new bat was standing next to the original, who was seated in front of the computer. In what Bruce had no idea was his usual space.

"You know you're still fully in touch with your memories, and obviously still here. There's time to change your mind." The smaller Batman arched an eyebrow at him. Bruce privately thought that it was a peculiar expression, considering how the suit moved with it and the white lenses stretched. It was almost... comical.

"You know, the voice is a little different," he said, "but you sound just like the old man."

"I figured I was him."

"More like the other way around."

"It won't be any way around, if you destroy your future." Bruce was getting exasperated.

"My past actually, or my present, whichever." The cape-less Batman shrugged in a way that said he was really well past thinking about it.

"Well, if you change things I won't be the person you knew. I won't tell you the things I'm supposed to tell you. Doesn't that bother you?" Bruce was curious that this Batman seemed so unconcerned about something of such life changing proportions. He couldn't imagine, didn't want to imagine, how things would have been if Alfred were different.

"Nah, the old man doesn't talk about himself much anyway. I guess I'll just hear different stuff than what I was going to hear. It's not like I'll know anyway. Hell, I might not even remember any of this when I get back."