"Take a deep breath, in through your nose, hold it for three seconds, and then exhale through your lips. Make sure to relax your muscles. Yep, just like that Bruce."

Dick wasn't exactly sure what had brought on the sudden panic attack, but the very fact that Bruce was shaken at all was enough to unnerve the young Robin. Crouching down, so that he was eye level with Bruce, Dick copied the action, making sure that he didn't get light headed.

When Bruce finally stood, Dick made sure to keep an eye on him. He watched as Bruce staggered just a bit, before he regained his footing. Dick made sure to stay close enough that if the bigger man did go down, he could at least soften the blow.

When Bruce headed straight back to the batmobile, instead of to the roof tops, Dick knew that the older man wasn't going to tell him the whole story. Instead of bugging his adoptive father for details, he simply slid into the passenger seat, and pressed the autopilot. It would be up to Alfred now.

Sure enough, the butler zoomed in on Bruce as soon as the man stumbled out of the batmobile. Dick took a seat in front of the bat computer, and watched as Alfred chastised Bruce. Dick loved this part. The older man was the only person on earth who could get away with telling Bruce what to do, or denying one of his whims.

Even after a year with this little rag, tag family Dick still smiled any time Alfred lectured Bruce. Of course he didn't like it nearly as much when it was himself on the other end. Although, he was certain that he'd seen Bruce smirk once or twice while it was happening. Like his mother had always said, things always come back around.

"And you, Master Dick, are you hurt at all?"

Dick snapped out of his thoughts to see Alfred snap on a pair of latex gloves. That was when he noticed the small wound on Bruce's shoulder. It was relatively small, too small to be a bullet hole. Still the young boy couldn't help but scowl, because he hadn't noticed it. Never mind that the armor, cape and darkness would have made it virtually impossible, Bruce had been hurt, and he hadn't noticed until a near panic attack has set in.

"I didn't notice either," Bruce's voice was calm, despite the fact that his breathing was still labored.

Dick removed the mask covering his eyes, so that Bruce could see the skeptical look on his face, "You didn't?"

The small smile on Bruce's face immediately set Dick on edge, "Not until the delusions started setting in."

Dick's eyes went wide, "Fear toxin?"

Bruce nodded, and Dick slid out of the chair to approach his adoptive father. He met Bruce's gaze, and held it. He and Bruce had a lot in common, almost as much as they didn't. But near the top of the list was their fear of the stupid fear toxin. It had a way of bringing back one's worse memories, and for each cure they found, Scarecrow seemed to come up with a brand new one. To be quite frank, it sucked.

Acting quickly, Dick shed his gloves before he reached out and quickly took Bruce's hand. At the slightly puzzled look, Dick just smiled and explained, "Skin contact from someone we care about and trust is supposed to help through panic attacks. I think the same applies to this."

The small smile Bruce sent him, made Dick beam, "Yep, Doc Harley said so."

Bruce's hand tightened ever so slightly on Dick's as the boy scooted onto the gurney beside him. Dick spent the next hour talking, doing his best to keep Bruce focused on anything but the delusions trying to seep in. Eventually, he fell fast asleep.

Bruce smiled down at the boy who was fast asleep. Dick's head rested against his bicep, as he started to lightly snore, "Fast asleep at only three AM, my oh my, whatever shall we do?"

Bruce glanced over at the butler, the man who raised him, and who was in more ways than one, his father, "I know you don't approve."

"Oh nonsense master Bruce. It's every parent's dream to see their child dawn a costume and mask and fight the scum of the city. Much more interesting than weddings or grandchildren."

It took everything Bruce had to not laugh at the sarcastic remark. Still, he had no doubt that Alfred caught the uptick of his lips, "Dick doesn't count as a grandchild?"

"Maybe once you start acting like a father?"

Bruce winced at that shot, but he couldn't necessarily rebuff it. He had made it a point to be around for Dick's training every day. He made it a point to see him. But it was still . . . difficult. It was hard to let someone else in. Someone that could easily be killed. A chance made even greater by his allowing Dick to be Robin.

Which was why in the past several months, he had made sure to put some distance between them. Weekend only patrols for Dick. Late work nights for himself. He was sure Dick's therapist would have something to say . . . if he had ever been the one to take him. Yet another reason Bruce stayed far away from the doctor's office.

As the last of the fear toxin cleared from his bloodstream, Bruce stood up. His eyes briefly went to the needle sitting in the metal bin, before they moved back to Dick. The needle was tempting. Despite it's small size it had somehow pierced his cape and armor to find a home in his skin. Not to mention there was still the conundrum of how the fear toxin had found it's way onto the needle, since scarecrow was still in Arkham.

Then his eyes went to Dick, and memories of the delusion came back. Unlike every other time the serum hadn't taken him back to his parent's death. Instead, a new fear had come forward, one of his boy being killed.

He could feel Alfred's eyes on him, waiting for him to make a decision. The wrong decision. Alfred was waiting for him to run. The idea of distance was tempting, more than he wanted to admit, but maybe it was time to run towards his fear.

Moving forward, he slipped his arms under the eight year old, and made his way towards the stairs. Smiling as Dick snuggled in towards his body warmth, he turned towards Alfred and simply said, "Goodnight Alfred. Make sure you get some sleep."

Alfred simply gave him a small smile and said, "Goodnight Master Bruce."

Bruce deposited Dick in his room, before shuffling to his own room. It would be a fair assessment that he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Simple proof of how tired he actually was. Which was why, when the curtains in his room were thrown open at eight am, and the sun streamed in, he was more than a little annoyed.

When Dick started yelling at him to get up, that she was here Bruce got even more annoyed. Still, he screwed his eyes shut and pulled the covers up over his head. Which is why, when that pillow hit him square on the head, he wasn't prepared.

Immediately, his eyes flashed open, and the covers were thrown back to reveal a smirking Dick Grayson. He already had the pillow raised for another strike, and as he surged forward with a battle cry, Bruce grabbed the other spare pillow and met him head on.

They were so involved in their little fight, Bruce didn't even realize they weren't alone until suddenly the attack was coming from two sides. When Dick finally wrestled the pillow away from him, claiming victory, Bruce saw her for the first time.

She was dressed in jeans, and a button down shirt, appropriate for Gotham's winter. Her glasses sat slightly askew on her nose, while her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail. The pillow dangled from her hands, while a smirk dangled on her lips. That was when she stuck her hand out and simply said, "Dr. Harleen Quinzell, it's nice to finally meet you Bruce."