Wayne Manor. 03:21 AM

Bruce's POV

Bruce sat at the kitchen counter, absentmindedly stirring his steaming coffee. The mansion was dead silent, the only sound being his spoon repeatedly clinking against the walls of his coffee mug.

Moments later, Alfred appeared at the door of the kitchen, pausing to observe Bruce frowning deeply at the cream colored walls. He crossed over to the fridge and began pouring himself a glass of milk, "Nothing else planned for tonight, Master Bruce?"

"Not for the next two hours, at least." Bruce lifted the mug to his mouth, but didn't drink from it. "Are Tim and Damian still in San Francisco?"

"Indeed they are. While you were out, however, Master Tim informed me that they were shortening their stay with the Teen Titans." Alfred began heating up his milk, "It was evident from the tone in his voice that Master Damian had much to do with that schedule change."

Bruce's lips twitched in a small smirk before taking a drink of his coffee. "Hmm." In all honesty, he was glad to know his sons were coming back sooner than intended. The absence of bickering and punches and glass breaking was very noticeable, and the silence – something Bruce had always embraced – was loud enough to drive him mad.

Alfred took his glass of warm milk and turned to Bruce, a slightly concerned and curious look showing on his face. "May I ask how your patrol over the Northern side of the city went?"

Bruce set his mug down on the polished counter and looked at Alfred, "Do you remember Alejandra Ramirez? The young girl Dick once told us about?"

Alfred thought for a brief second before nodding, "Ah, yes. Master Richard is very fond of her, isn't he?"

"I met her tonight, along with her friend Eddie Santos. They'd stumbled across the Batmobile and couldn't help but notice its tires."

Alfred didn't seem to make the connection like Bruce had.

His butler smiled, "Master Richard did say she was one to stir up trouble. It's fairly logical that she knows how to use a lug wrench. And this wouldn't be the first time someone tries to steal your tires, it's happened occasionally in the past few years."

Bruce drummed his fingers on the tabletop, his brow creasing, "I checked the security footage from the car. Santos was the one who wanted to sell the tires. He didn't contemplate the risks, the consequences. But Alejandra did."

"I assume that's the result of living on the streets for so long. As I recall, Master Richard first came across her at the age of nine. She's had plenty of time to learn street smarts since then."

"She's different from the others on the street, Alfred." Bruce insisted, "Those few people who've seen the Batmobile made the same mistakes as Eddie, if not more. They got too close too quickly, were too careless. But she didn't even get in range of the car. The only thermals and air currents the Batmobile registered were those of Eddie. Not to mention the video recognition got a clear shot of him. Alejandra showed up in the video, of course, but it was as if she positively knew they were both being recorded." Bruce recalled her paranoia from watching the footage.

"C'mon, Eddie, he's BATMAN for crying out loud! The guy is the world's greatest detective! The tires probably have tracking devices, or maybe the car has a camera running and is recording everything we're saying! He'll probably guess your name out of the top of his head just by seeing his tires have been stolen!"

"Well, as Batman, you tend to stir up some wild imaginations in everyone, Master Bruce." Alfred said as he finished the rest of his warm milk. "Perhaps Miss Alejandra has heard many bone-chilling stories about you."

Bruce couldn't help but give a small smile, "She reads the newspaper, too."

Even Alfred seemed amused, "My, there aren't many teenagers who do that nowadays. Master Damian snatches them from the front steps bright and early and gives it to Alfred the cat for his litter box." Alfred washed his glass and placed it back in its spot. He glanced back at Bruce and raised a brow, "You seem to be taking quite an interest in this girl, Master Bruce."

"She seems very familiar." Bruce admitted after a long pause.

"Is it perhaps because she reminds you of yourself?" Alfred mused. "Or of any of the boys who've lived in this household? Lost, and in need of a true home?"

Bruce, unable to suppress his own theory any longer, rubbed his face and let out a heavy sigh, "She reminds me of Jason."

Alfred was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his tone was cautiously curious. "How so? If I remember correctly, Master Jason was just as careless about snatching your tires as the other street children were."

"I know, but…" Bruce shook his head, "You have to meet Alejandra yourself, Alfred. There's just something about her that screams Jason." He remembered the way her eyes – green eyes – flashed, her impatience, her temper, the way she masked her pain. It was like Jason in another body. The only difference between them was that Alejandra showed a degree of restraint…she had morals.

Alfred interrupted his careening train of thoughts. "Mmm, perhaps you can ask Master Richard to bring her here for an afternoon visit? He'll introduce us as his family, which is nothing but the truth, and we'll create the illusion that we're all fairly normal." Alfred smiled, "It's not much of a challenge for this specific family, really."

Bruce smiled wryly, "That's not a bad idea, Alfred. Though we'll probably have to send Damian off to Japan for the day. Something tells me those two will clash heads, and Damian isn't one to hold back on a fight."

"Then it's settled. We'll have Alejandra Ramirez as our guest, and we'll all see for ourselves if any of part of her is Jason." Alfred was about to walk out of the kitchen, but he paused to look at Bruce. "Master Bruce?"

Bruce looked back to Alfred, spotting the cautious look in his eyes. "You do understand that by granting this young girl access into your home, you're also granting her access into your heart?"

There it was. The question Bruce knew Alfred had been tossing around from the beginning of this conversation. He sighed, "It's not necessarily – "

"Because we all know where it goes on from there, Master Bruce." Alfred continued kindly, but with an air of firmness, "You hand them a cape and cowl, you exercise their abilities, and then the time comes when you let them leave the nest. And it's from there, Master Bruce, when terrible things start to happen." There was a slight quiver in Alfred's voice, and the sorrow in his expression was clear as daylight. "And…if this girl carries the same character as Master Jason…"

"I know." Bruce's voice came out harder than intended, and he slowly forced the death grip he had on his mug to loosen. He sighed, feeling that all too familiar guilt gnaw at his consciousness. "That won't happen, Alfred. I'll make sure of it."

There was a long pause of silence before Alfred's expression softened, "Of course, Master Jason has improved greatly in character in the past few years. He even keeps in touch with us. I suppose much of it is due to the friends he carries, despite them being 'outlaws.'"

Bruce felt some of the weight in his chest lighten at the thought of the present Jason. He still carried his burning anger, but that was just something that ran so deep in Jason's bones that it was impossible for him to abandon it – Bruce finally understood that.

But despite that lingering trait, Jason was still a hero. An anti-hero, but a hero nonetheless.

Bruce felt some of his smile return, "Yeah." He stood up and walked out of the kitchen with Alfred.

Before they went their separate ways to their rooms, Alfred looked to Bruce, "I suppose I should prepare a giant meal for when Miss Alejandra visits?"

"Definitely. I can guarantee you there won't be any leftovers."