WARNING: Language, some Graphic Images . . .

"Elle!" Damian yelped as the young woman collapsed.

Almost gracefully, Elle fell across Dick body. Bruce had seen the flash of pain before she fell unconscious. To look at her now, however, she looked peaceful; as though she had merely fallen asleep.

Damian leapt to his feet and grabbed his father's shoulder. "What's happening? Do something!" He yelled to the pilot, "Drake, hurry this damned thing up!"

Bruce stepped over his son to pick Elle up. Her breathing had stopped. Did she even have a heartbeat? He glanced outside as he lay her down beside Dick and saw that they were in the process of landing even now.

But there was no time to spare. He had to keep her going until the trauma team could save Dick. If they were able to bring his son back, only for him to discover that she had died, he feared that nothing would stop him from joining her.

He started CPR as Robin pried open the door for the hospital team to enter.

He heard someone yell, "Shit! We're going to need another gurney up here . . . Stat!" even as the helicopter was invaded by medical personnel.

When he was finally shoved aside so that Elle could be transferred to a second gurney, Bruce was exhausted. At the beginning of the night, he had no idea that it would end like this. He climbed out, still yelling orders. All he needed was some idiot doctor to pronounce Elle DOA before Dick could be stabilized. They had to keep her going . . . He felt certain that once Dick was out of danger, she would be able to be revived as well

"What should we do?" Robin tugged on the edge of his sleeve.

In the boy's worry, he was forgetting that he was still in uniform. Red Robin came around the side of the Batcopter and tugged him back toward the aircraft.

"We are going back to the Batcave. I'm sure that the rest of Mr. Wayne's family will be here as soon as possible," he told the younger boy.

At the gentle reminder, Robin threw himself back into the vehicle and began buckling up.

"Come on, Red Robin," he ordered. "Or I'm leaving without you!"

Tim gave Bruce a look that promised a swift return before he turned around and ran back to the pilot's seat.

"You can't reach the pedals, squirt!"

Bruce didn't look back as they took off, but followed the trauma team into the hospital. Dick had already disappeared into the interior of the building. He ran, following Elle's gurney. One female EMT was straddling the young woman; her knees on either side of her as she continued CPR while the second team rushed them into the depths of the emergency room's trauma unit.

Bruce grabbed a nurse as she rushed to set up the crash cart.

"She was kidnapped and tortured," he informed her. "Please, she can't die. Do whatever it takes to keep her going. Spare no expense."

"Are you family," the woman, her tag read Anita G., asked him sympathetically.

She's my daughter-in-law," Bruce told her without qualm. "My son is in the room next door. He wouldn't take her death lightly. Please . . ."

Her eyes widened. "We will do everything in our power . . ."

"I don't care what it takes," he emphasized. "Do not give up on her. Put her on full life support if you have to."

The nurse nodded, but waved to the room beyond them. "I understand," she told him. "Do you know if there is any chance that she might be pregnant?"

Bruce's brain stuttered. "I-I don't . . . know." He wasn't stupid. He knew that Dick and Elle were living together now. Hell, it wasn't that long ago that he had fished her underwear out of his pool, much to the couple's acute embarrassment. "It's possible, of course, but I hadn't heard anything that would lead me to believe she is now."

The nurse smiled comfortingly; patting Bruce's arm. "Fine; that's fine. It's just something that we always have to ask. I need to go help her now. The waiting room is through those doors," she indicated a blue door at the end of the long hall.

Bruce stepped back as she disappeared into the chaos. He had no intention of waiting anywhere but in his son's room. They would have to drag him away. He ducked into Dick's room and noted the same frantic energy of the team working on him. Finding a corner that was unused and where he did not block medical personnel or equipment, Bruce stationed himself to wait . . . and to pray.

He and God had an awkward relationship to be sure. He generally considered himself to be agnostic, except in times like this, when control was wrest violently from his hands and Bruce was forced to rely on the whims of a merciless fate. He always preferred hedging his bets, however, when at all possible.

He heard a rush of air as the team of doctors decompressed Dick's chest with a 14-gauge needle as another intubated him. Immediately there was a corresponding beep on the EKG as the pressure against his heart was removed, but the rhythm was erratic. Dick was struggling; doing his damndest to survive, but he was in obvious distress. A nurse pulled out the defibrillator and seconds later, someone yelled "Clear", and Dick's body jolted hard in response. The rhythm remained irregular.

"Come on, Dick," Bruce whispered. "You can do this!"

Again Dick's body convulsed as an electrical current ran through his heart in an effort to restore a normal sinus rhythm. His heartrate fluttered wildly before flatlining. CPR was begun for several minutes until another erratic rhythm was detected, and the defibrillator was employed for the third time.

What was that saying? Third time's a charm? Bruce physically slumped against the corner as the EKG began recording a regular, if slightly elevated, heartbeat. Did God answer his prayer or did the doctors and technological advances do that? He ran a shaking hand over his eyes. He didn't know, and in all honesty, he didn't care; his son was saved today . . . And Bruce liked to hedge his bets.

He sent up a heartfelt thank you into the air. Whether God intercepted it or an uncaring Fate ignored it, it was there. Dick wasn't completely out of the woods yet, but he was no longer in immediate danger. His son was safe, for now. Bruce had faith in those medical personnel to continue caring for his boy in a competent manner.

Now Bruce needed to ensure he stayed that way. He moved out into the hallway and back to the neighboring room. He pushed open the door and felt his heart drop.

Chaos still reigned here. The doctors and nurses were rushing about, but somehow, magically almost, never seemed to get into one another's way. Elle looked filthy against the stark white of the sheets she lay on. He could see the cuts on the bottom of her feet. Most were already encrusted with mud and newly-formed scabs, but there was still one that was deep enough that blood still flowed sluggishly and dripped steadily onto the tiled floor.

"I have a rhythm," one of the nurses yelled after several more agonizing moments.

"Finally," the doctor muttered as he continued tipping her head back and slipping a tube down her throat.

Bruce winced. For a woman whose life revolved around her voice, that was going to hurt. He imagined Elle would be hoarse afterwards, but she would be alive! That was what mattered. Dick would make it so long as she was there to anchor him to this world.

He still wasn't keen on the bond. While it ensured her loyalty and Bruce took comfort in the fact that Dick would never be alone, she was also a serious weakness; a liability that could be exploited to Dick detriment should knowledge of their link get into the wrong hands. He sighed, running a tired hand through his hair. Dick was also her weakness to be fair; a far more serious one, he conceded after watching her collapse in the Batcopter when Dick's condition deteriorated literally to the point of death.

The nurse he had spoken with earlier spotted him.

"Sir, you shouldn't be in here," she told him gently.

"Will she be alright," he asked instead of acknowledging her words. "Will she live?"

Anita G. smiled at him. Bruce searched her face and found it sincere. Good news . . .

"It was an amazing thing. Nothing was working on her," she admitted. "The doctors were ready to pronounce her at least twice, but I did what you asked and insisted we not give up. And then, suddenly her heart just started beating on its own. No arrhythmia; just a nice, solid, steady beat."

"Why the intubation?" Bruce nodded at the equipment she was still hooked to.

"She wasn't breathing on her own. This is just a precaution, until we see she is stabilized."

Bruce nodded. As long as Dick remained stable, so would Elle.

"I'm sure Admitting has been looking for you," Anita reminded him. "There will be paperwork to fill out and insurance. I'm sure there will be more questions needing to be answered about both patients' medical history."

"I only know the basics on Elle," he admitted. "Although I can have my son's medical records faxed to you. How soon do you think until they can go home?"

Anita smiled. "It's far too early to tell, but I can assure you that they'll be here for a little while."

"Would it be possible to get them transferred to Gotham General? It is closer to family and Dick's own physician is there."

"I suppose, once they are both stable, but we have a very good staff," Anita informed him. "Your son and his wife will be in good hands here."

When will they be transferred to a room," Bruce asked. "Would it be possible for them to share one together?"

"I couldn't say just yet, but it is likely that one, if not both of them will be admitted to the ICU unit. Those are all private rooms, but once they are out of danger, you can talk to the administration about a double room," Anita took his arm gently and began leading him out.

"Kicking me out, are you?" Bruce moved easily. They were both going to live, barring any complications.

"Paperwork," she reminded him. "We need that medical history, as well."

"Of course," he said. He paused in the hallway to peek back into Dick's room.

The excitement had ended, and a couple of nurses and a doctor remained to finish inserting a draining tube into Dick's side as a means of releasing any more trapped air. He would be needing surgery to remove the bullet still embedded in his chest. Bruce would make a phone call and see what needed to be done in order to get Leslie cleared to do Dick's surgery here in Bludhaven. Bruce was impressed by the care his son had so far received, but Bruce still preferred Dick not go under anyone's knife but Leslie's.

As he moved out into the waiting room and on toward Admitting, Bruce saw that he was about to be intercepted by the detectives from Elle's apartment building. He sighed. Remembering Damian's actions on Elle's behalf, his mind started working out a plausible story to explain how Nameless, as Bruce had begun calling the assassin, had gotten his shoulder blown out and how Dick's prints had gotten on the weapon that was responsible.

"Not now, gentlemen," Bruce held up a hand. "I have paperwork to attend to."

Campbell was scowling. "So we heard! Did I not tell you to keep your son out of this?"

"What part of 'not now' did you not understand, Detective Campbell," Bruce snapped. "What are you doing here, anyway?" Although he had a strong suspicion.

"It's the closest hospital to Astor Park, where we found our guy bleeding out from having his shoulder blown off and locked in a pair of these," Campbell held up the set of batcuffs that Damian had used to restrain the hitman.

"Took us rather a long time to get them off," Chon commented. "You'd think Batman would use cuffs that would respond to one of our handcuff keys."

"If you're looking for sympathy from me, detectives, you'll be waiting here for a very long time," Bruce told them. "That man kidnapped and tortured my daughter-in-law and tried to murder my son. Something he very nearly managed to accomplish despite Batman's timely interference."

"Don't you mean your 'future' daughter-in-law," Chon corrected.

Bruce waved the comment away. "A mere formality," he said. "We are merely waiting for the reservation of the church."

Campbell wasn't so easily distracted. "We have some questions we want to ask you about what happened at the park."

"They will have to wait," Bruce insisted as he moved around the men. "I have paperwork to fill out."

"Oh, we're not going anywhere soon," Campbell called after him.

"Then you might locate the cafeteria, detectives," Bruce sent back over his shoulder. "It's going to be a long night."

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