Oh, Wow! You guys have been so patient! And I really appreciate the reviews . . . Elle's my baby, and it pleases me to no end that so many of you have taken her into your heart as well.

My Young Justice story is now out. LOL! I ended up writing a brand-new story in less than a week's time. 8 chapters and nearly 29,000 words in 7 days, and believe it or not, it turned out really great! If you like Young Justice (Remember Last Chance is a different AU than YJ. Dick started Teen Titans in this one.), then check it out. It's got everything and Robin-whump! (I don't know why I feel the urge to beat up my absolute favorite character, but if you enjoy seeing Dick Grayson struggling to survive, then this is the story for you!) It has a very original premise and it is out there already complete! No waiting!

Now back to our regularly-scheduled storyline . . .

WARNING: Just Bruce being typical, manipulative, controlling Bruce . . . (You gotta love him!)

Bruce's heart sped up as soon as the doors opened and Leslie walked out. She was just pulling the mask off of her face and still wore her soiled scrubs. She had known Bruce long enough to know he would rather have information immediately than to be forced to wait until she had cleaned up. Sending a nurse was not an option either.

"He is going to be fine," Leslie told them before anyone could ask. "The surgery went like clockwork. I don't expect any complications."

Bruce was on his feet and meeting her halfway across the surgical unit's waiting room. "When can I see him?"

Leslie sighed. She looked and sounded exhausted. "You need to realize that I haven't the same influence here as I do at Gotham General."

"When."

"They might let you into recovery in another hour to an hour and a half," she told him. "It depends on when he wakes up from the anesthesia. But," she held up a finger in front of his face, "you'll only have five minutes with him before you'll be escorted out."

"Five . . .?"

"Five minutes, Bruce," she repeated. "Afterwards, when they get him settled back in ICU, you'll each be able to take a few minutes visiting him."

Bruce frowned. "Why is he going back to ICU? I thought you said he'll be fine."

"It's just a precaution," Leslie told him. "I want to be sure that he doesn't have any issues when we take him off of the respirator."

"He's on a respirator?" Tim interjected.

Leslie's gaze softened for the eighteen year old. "I was operating on his lung, so yes, he will need a little help for the next twelve to twenty-four hours, I expect. After that, we'll take him off and see how he does."

"You said you didn't expect complications," Bruce reminded her.

"I don't," she reassured him. "I honestly don't expect him to need the respirator for more than twelve hours, but you never know. Sometimes people need a little more recovery time. Dick's healthy and strong. He's in excellent shape. He should be just fine."

Bruce wasn't as pleased as anyone else might have been with the news. He wanted to see his son; to sit with him and watch over him until Bruce was certain that Dick was going to be okay. It was one thing for Leslie to tell him so, but as much as he trusted her, he trusted his own eyes more.

And nothing was more important to him than family.

It had been a hard lesson he had had to learn. He had made so many mistakes over the years with his boys. Mistakes bad enough to have run them all off. Each time he had almost lost one, he had reacted badly . . . And then when Jason had . . . He sucked in his breath. He should have lost Dick forever at that point – not to death, but because of his own stupidity and fear.

This Christmas had been an epiphany. A gift he could never have hoped for, but for which he would remain eternally grateful. Everyone, all of his children, had come home. All of them under one roof. But like a great, fat cherry on top of it was the laughter and sense of peace that had permeated the gathering.

Oh, there had been a couple of tense moments, but that was only to be expected. It had been more than he could have dreamed possible. But he found he was greedy. He wanted to have this again. And again. But then, this morning, he has very nearly lost it all yet again. He needed to see Dick . . . Needed to see him with his own eyes. He'd never be able to rest easy otherwise.

Leslie interrupted his thoughts. "Now, what's this I hear about Dick having a wife," she asked, intrigued. "I don't recall receiving my invitation to anyone's wedding."

Bruce pulled her away from the other families present.

"It hasn't happened yet, of course," he said. "But I realized that the hospital would never have given me information on Elle's condition otherwise; nor access to her outside of normal visiting hours."

"Or give him a say in the course of her care," Damian chimed in unhelpfully.

Tim elbowed the boy, frowning. He shook his head.

"What?" Damian blinked, confused.

Leslie glared at Bruce. "What is this?"

Bruce sighed. "It was necessary, Leslie. You'll see that if you only hear me out," he told her as he raised his hands defensively.

"What you are doing is against the law, Bruce," she hissed at him. "It violates that young woman's privacy, not to speak of the moral and ethical implications! You had no right!"

"Her parents are dead, and her half-brother actively hates her according to Dick. He even suspects the brother to be behind her attack and kidnapping. Her assailant was a professional hitman, Leslie! Do you really expect me to allow the hospital to contact the man who might possibly be behind her and Dick's attempted murder and give him the final say in her care?"

Leslie's eyes narrowed and her lips thinned with this information. "Have you contacted the police with Dick's suspicions?

"The police know the situation and Dick's suspicions," Bruce assured her.

"You could have contacted the board of directors for the hospital about the extenuating circumstances and allowed them to make a decision . . ." She said, pointing a finger at him.

"Leslie, I was forced to give her CPR as we were arriving here. Without my lie, she might have been pronounced DOA," he explained. "The nurse that tended her in the emergency room has already admitted that it was only at my insistence that they not give up on her that spurred them to continue to treat her until she was finally stabilized. What do you think her brother might have told them in my place? She is only alive now because I told them that she and Dick were already married, thus enabling me to have a say in her care as a family member."

Leslie shook her head and raised her hands up. "Stop! Don't tell me anymore! If I help you perpetuate this lie, I could end up losing my license . . . Being fined. Jail time. Hopefully, no one will question me about Mrs. Grayson."

"Mrs. Grayson-Wayne," Bruce corrected. "It is Dick's name, officially, and I didn't want there to be any confusion about our relationship."

Leslie dropped her head into her hand and turned away to walk away. She couldn't hear any more.

"When can I see him?"

Leslie halted, but didn't turn around. "I'll send word," she stated and headed back through the double doors to the doctor's locker room.

"She wasn't very happy with you, Father," Damian commented.

"It was a necessary lie," he repeated. He'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Leslie didn't understand everything that was involved, and he certainly wasn't about to explain it to her here.

With at least an hour before he would be allowed in to see Dick, Bruce went to visit Elle and update her on Dick's surgery and condition. He knew she would be relieved. She had been as upset by the idea of his surgery as she had about losing the baby.

He tapped lightly on the door before opening it, but was surprised to find Elle sleeping soundly. Perhaps she wasn't as distraught as he had thought . . . Or she had worn herself out. Then again, there was a good chance that someone had already thought to update her on Dick's condition, believing her to be his wife already.

Bruce had just exited the room when a nurse nearly bumped into him.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized. "I was just coming to check on Mrs. Grayson-Wayne to see how she was doing."

"She's sleeping," Bruce informed her as she peeked around the door at its lone occupant.

"That's good," the nurse said. "We were very worried about her. She had taken the news of her loss so badly, and then having an anxiety attack on top of it . . ."

Bruce frowned. "What anxiety attack? She was terribly upset, but . . ."

"I believe it was around three hours ago," the nurse, Bruce read her nametag, Elizabeth N., said.

Three hours ago . . . That was when Dick was going into surgery.

"What happened?" If it came out as more of a demand, the nurse would forgive him; after all, Elle was family.

"She started screaming."

"What?" Bruce reopened the door and peeked in. Still sleeping.

"It could be an adverse reaction to the painkillers the doctor prescribed, but she was hysterical; saying odd things like, 'I can't feel him,' 'he's not there," and asking if he was dead? I'm not certain if she was speaking of her husband or the child she lost. I heard that he was here, however; admitted at the same time that she was. Anyway, Dr. Carter ended up having to sedate her in the end."

Ah, now it made sense.

"We couldn't make her believe that that her husband was fine. The doctor really had no choice," Elizabeth said in defense of the Carter's decision.

"It was probably for the best," Bruce reassured her. "Elle's been through far too much already in the past 24 hours. I would be more surprised if she hadn't broken down at some point." Although she had been pretty close to it the last time he had visited her.

Bruce felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn't sent someone down to sit with her, but only Alfred knew the truth about the bonding. Not that Bruce had been thinking much of anything past what was happening inside of the operating room, but it should have occurred to him. Dick's welfare was directly connected to Elle's well-being and vice-versa. This would take some getting used to.

He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I'll be up in the waiting room. If she happens to wake up, could you send word to me; particularly if she's still upset and you cannot calm her down?"

"Of course," Elizabeth, the nurse, agreed.

She watched as Mr. Wayne headed back in the direction of the elevator before returning to the nurses' station.

"Amber, where is that file on Grayson-Wayne in room 322?"

The nurse's aide pulled the chart and handed it to her.

"What's wrong," the younger woman asked.

Elizabeth flipped through the file. "I just wondered if anyone thought to call her family."

Amber looked back over her shoulder as she filled a water pitcher. "I thought her family was here already."

"Her husband's family, but not any of her own immediate family. I thought I remember seeing another next of kin listed," Elizabeth flipped to the form with personal history and stats. "He would probably appreciate knowing his daughter is in the hospital."

There is was . . . Cedric Hamilton. The number was long-distance, but Chicago wasn't so far away that the woman's father wouldn't want to come see her. He should know what his daughter had gone through if nothing else. Perhaps the police might have contacted him, but she was pretty certain that no one at the hospital had. Her father-in-law had simply taken over all decisions concerning the couple as soon as they arrived, apparently, so in the hustle and bustle, no one had thought to call the woman's father. The least she could do is relieve the man's mind.

She dialed and listened to the phone ring. She was put through to voicemail. She hated to leave messages like this to family members, so she gave the basic information, that his daughter was in the hospital, and a number that lead directly to the nurses' station with her name and hung up. Hopefully, her father would get the message before she went off shift this evening.

Twenty minutes after Bruce walked back into the surgical family waiting room, a nurse arrived and called Dick's name. Bruce met her next to the door that he knew led into the hallway that connected to the recovery room.

"I'm Richard Grayson-Wayne's father," he stated.

"My name is Jennifer," the middle-aged woman told him. "If you wish to visit with your son, you may do so now. Your visit will be short, you must understand. We normally try to discourage visitors when the patient is recovering from surgery, but he's awake and has been attempting to call for you and, I believe, his wife? Someone said that she was admitted through the emergency room at the same time."

"Yes, she was. I can relieve his mind about her condition, at least," Bruce said as he followed her into a large room laid out similar to the smaller Intensive Care Unit upstairs.

Here, however, instead of glass-partitioned, private rooms that surrounded a central nursing hub, the recovery room's central station was open to all of the beds with only curtain separating each bed from the other. It was a hive of activity, and yet a hush hovered over the area; the only noises were those of the machines that constantly monitored the vitals of each patient, or, included, in the case of Dick, the soft puff of the respirator.

"Perhaps you can calm him down," Jennifer said softly. "Each time he has come around, he's been fighting the respirator and has attempted to climb off of his gurney more than once. We would prefer not to have to strap his arms down if it isn't necessary."

After hearing about Elle's reaction to Dick's being sedated for surgery, Bruce wasn't surprised to hear that Dick was having a similar reaction now. He stood at the foot of the bed and stared at his boy. He wasn't a child anymore, but the sight of Dick lying so still and connected to various lines and tubes was . . . distressing.

He moved to the side of the bed and carefully picked up his son's hand so as not to disturb the Pulse-Ox on his finger. Dick's eyes were moving beneath the lids and occasionally his brow would crease into a frown; his throat worked as he tried to swallow around the breathing tube. He could see what the nurse was talking about. Even sedated, apparently Dick struggled.

No, not restful in the least.

Dick's eyes opened and he squeezed Bruce's hand to let him know he was awake. There were tears of panic in his eyes, and he reached up with his other hand to tug at the breathing tube. He made gagging sounds.

Bruce quickly grabbed his other hand. It took only a little effort to pull his hand away, but that would change the more awake and aware of his surroundings that Dick became. Bruce leaned down so that Dick could see him clearly as he spoke to him.

"Calm down," Bruce told him. "She's fine. The doctor had to sedate her while you were in surgery. Apparently the depth of unconsciousness to which the drugs took you prevented her from feeling you; much how she felt to you when the hitman knocked her out. She's in her room, sleeping."

Dick's breathing began to slow down as he searched Bruce's eyes for the truth.

"You need to relax. You will do her no good if she wakes to find out you're half-crazed with worry. You two seem to feed into one another's emotions, am I correct?"

The tension in his son's shoulders eased visibly and Dick nodded slightly. He couldn't do much more with the tube running down his throat. Bruce squeezed Dick's hand again.

"I'm looking after Elle until you're better. I promise; I won't let anything happen to her. I might even be able to sneak her up to see you later, but only if you stop fighting the doctors and nurses and concentrate on getting well." Bruce said to him.

Dick tried to swallow around the tube, and blinked once for yes, he would agree to that that arrangement. He didn't have to speak for Bruce to see the gratitude in his son's eyes. Certainly Dick had to know that Bruce would do far more than that to keep him safe and happy.

"You're welcome," he said. "They are going to chase me out of here soon." Nurse Jennifer was bearing down on him now, he could see out of the corner of his eye. "No pulling out tubes or needles. No throwing yourself off of gurneys. Just get better soon. If not for the rest of us, for Elle."

Dick blinked again.

"Oh, and by the way," Bruce smirked. "You two are married, according to the hospital files. If you remember any of this later, just go with it, okay?"

Dick's eyes widened, and he started to nod; wincing at the strain the tube placed on his trachea. He blinked instead.

Bruce straightened as the nurse approached Dick's bed.

"Behave and get some rest. I'll see you later in your room."

But Dick's eyes were sliding closed again as the anesthesia won the most recent battle and drew him back into its depths once more.

Jennifer was smiling at him; pleased. "I can see bringing you in was a good decision. Thank you. It was important that he be allowed to wake up. Having to sedate him again because of his agitation would have carried its own risks."

"When will he be taken back to his room," Bruce asked as he followed her back towards the waiting room.

"Another hour, I expect," she said over her shoulder. "As long as two, however, is possible, so don't be alarmed if it takes longer. You should take a walk in the hospital gardens or grab something to eat in the cafeteria while you wait."

The doors opened and Alfred, Tim, and Damian all leapt to their feet, anxious for Bruce's report. He glanced down at the nurse before she could leave.

"Thank you. I appreciate you letting me in to see him," he told her; remembering his manners.

"You're very welcome, Mr. Wayne." She smiled warmly at him before turning back to her job.

"How is he, Bruce," Tim asked as soon as the doors shut behind the nurse.

"You heard Leslie," Bruce was happy to reassure them. "He's going to be fine."

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