Author's note: Okay, maybe not so fluffy...But necessary.

CHAPTER 3

JASON TODD, DECEASED

Dick heard the door slam behind him with a resounding thump. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. The last time he'd spoken to Bruce was shortly after Jason's funeral, the funeral he'd been off-planet during. Heck, he hadn't even found out that Jason had died until he got back from Tamaran. Bruce had been cold to him ever since and Dick had been avoiding him. The only thing that could bring him back to the Manor now...

"Master Dick! How good of you to come," Alfred said cordially and shook his hand in both of his. "I am so glad you were able to make it."

"Are you sure this is okay with Bruce?" Dick looked around nervously. "I mean, I know he's still upset about Jason..."

"He is mourning in his own way," Alfred replied sadly. "But still, this is the time when one needs family the most. Come into the kitchen, lad. Let's see if you still remember how to make popcorn..."

The kitchen was spotless, as usual, but somehow quiet. He wasn't trading remarks with a semi-hyperactive Boy Wonder. The place seemed...silent. He focused on making sure that the popcorn wasn't burned, getting the right amount of butter, not too much salt...Bruce was death on high sodium foods. He didn't know the last time he'd focused so hard on a single task.

"Oh dear," Alfred said, surveying the four shakes he'd prepared. "My mistake." He reached out to remove the fourth, when a deep voice came from the kitchen entrance.

"Leave it."

Dick almost dropped the bowl of popcorn. Bruce stood quietly in the corner, his face unreadable, his voice even. "Hi Bruce," Dick said uncertainly. "I...ah...hope it's okay that I dropped by."

"It's fine," Bruce said, picking up two of the shakes. "You know where the den is."

"Yeah..." Dick replied and picked up his own shake and the bowl of popcorn. He traded glances with Alfred, but the old butler just shrugged.

In the den, there were still four chairs in a row in front of the big screen television set. Bruce had opened the movie cupboard and had just selected a CD for the evening.

"What are we watching?" Dick asked.

"I thought, the Magnificent Seven might be a good choice. It seems...appropriate." Bruce slid the CD into the player and took his seat in the middle chair. Dick took his regular spot to Bruce's right and Alfred sat to the right of him. Only Jason's chair sat empty, the shake on the chair's side table next to a small bowl of popcorn that Bruce had clearly decanted. Again, Dick exchanged glances with Alfred and Alfred looked helplessly back.

Dick handed the remote to Bruce and they sat back to silently watch the movie.

HOURS LATER

"I guess I should be going, Bruce," Dick reached for his leather jacket and motorcycle helmet. "But thanks for inviting me."

"It's late, Dick. Why don't you stay over? Maybe we could talk over a few things...I...if you have the time." For the first time, Bruce looked a little uncertain.

"He was a good kid," Dick said quietly. "And a good Robin. I was proud of him."

"I know," Bruce said. "But I still know that I failed him."

"Bruce, he knew the risks, just like I did," Dick put down his helmet and jacket, moving closer to his mentor. "In the end, he died trying to do good, in the spirit of everything you ever taught us," he said softly, his hands on his mentor's shoulders.

Bruce just gave him a look and reached in for a hug, his body shaking with silent sobs. Dick tried to blink back the tears, then gave up. Alfred was right. Family was most important at a time like this.

Additional Author's Note: For those of you who haven't seen it, in Magnificent Seven most of the good guys die defending the villagers.