A knock on the entrance to his apartment made Dick pause with his arms half-buried in a box. No one knows I live here, his eyes narrowed. I just moved in yesterday. So…problem?

Tense but silent, he moved to the door, avoiding the creaks in the floor that he already had memorized. He glanced through the peephole, and his heart suddenly leapt with joy.

"Alfred!" he exclaimed, ripping the barrier open with a broad grin on his face. He hadn't seen the butler in the six months since he had stormed from the manor, enraged by the callous firing of Robin, and right now he was the only person who could have shown up on his threshold and been greeted warmly. "Oh my god, I've missed you!" He wanted to embrace the man, but the large box he held would have made it a rather awkward tango. "Come inside!" he ushered him. His tone suddenly switched. "…You're alone, right?"

Alfred sighed. Still angry, it appears. I can hardly blame you, considering the circumstances under which you departed home, but I had hoped that perhaps… "Yes, young sir. I am alone. And it's lovely to see you, as well."

"Good." Locking the door, he turned to find the box being set carefully on the counter. As soon as its bearer's hands were free, he launched himself forward, insisting on a hug. Wow. He really missed me, he thought guiltily as he was squeezed tight for a long moment. Alfred hardly ever hugs like this. "So…you didn't, like, cart a pot roast from Gotham, did you?" he joked as they broke apart. "Because as good as your pot roasts are, that would be a little insane."

"It's not quite a pot roast, no," the butler smiled softly, unable to stop taking in the boy before him. No, he corrected himself harshly, sensing a subtle but definite change in his younger charge that went beyond the more defined jawline and slightly broader bearing than he remembered. He barely still qualified as a boy when he left, and his break with Master Wayne, as well as whatever has happened to him in the meantime, has finished transforming him into a man. It would be a fallacy to consider anyone who managed to completely evade Batman's search efforts for six months a child. "…But the box does contain a bit of home, so to speak. Just a few items that I thought you might find useful as you set up house."

"Thanks," he nodded. How did you know I was here? Damn it, I thought I vanished for long enough. Well…just because Alfred knows doesn't mean that Bruce does. Even if he does know…it's not like he'd care. His heart pinched, as it had every time he'd thought of the billionaire during the past half year. Stop. Don't think about that right now. Alfred's here now, let's see what he brought. "Do you mind if I…?" he gestured at the carton.

"Not at all, young sir. They are your belongings, after all."

"Awesome." He pulled things out one at a time and stacked them on the counter; a few pieces of favored clothing, a couple of books, Elinor the stuffed elephant – he paused to stroke her head for a moment, wondering how he could possibly have left her behind even though he took nothing with him when he left – and then, pillowed on a stack of crumpled newspapers, something he hadn't seen in a decade.

"…Alfred…how?" he gaped, lifting out a pale green teapot with hand-painted trees flowering along its curves. He knew it had to be the same vessel he'd drunk uncountable cups from as a small child, but he checked for the tiny hairline crack in the lid anyway. "This is impossible," he shook his head, real happiness flooding him for the first time in months. "But…" he frowned slightly as he considered the four cups still nestled in the box. "We only had three cups. One was broken on the trip from the US to Europe when I was still a baby. So how…?"

"Perhaps this story would best be told over lapsang souchong," the butler suggested. I suspected that would be the perfect housewarming gift. How could your own mother's tea set not prove acceptable, after all?

"Uh…" he blushed deeply. "I don't have any tea. I got the keys to this place maybe thirty-odd hours ago; I haven't had time to go shopping yet."

"Oh, I don't think that will be a problem. If you dig just a bit deeper, you'll find a selection of leaves and a kettle. Just a few little things to get you started," he smiled knowingly.

"You're so cool, Alfred," he beamed, diving back into the box.

Ten minutes later they were seated on folding chairs with a TV tray between them. "So…um…how did you find me?" Dick asked. As much as he wanted to know how he had come back into possession of the beautiful dishes that his mother's hands had once graced, he was more concerned about the fact that it had taken virtually no time for his new residency in Bludhaven to be unearthed. I haven't even gone out on a patrol yet, and he already knows I'm here. What am I, losing my touch?

"Once you decided to rejoin society, Master Dick, it wasn't difficult. After all," the Englishman added quietly, "we never stopped looking for you."

"…We?" he whispered uncertainly.

Alfred gave him a hard look. "Foolishness doesn't suit you, young sir. You must know that every effort was made by both myself and Master Wayne to locate you."

"…Oh." He looked away. I guess I didn't let Bruce finish yelling before I left. I can't figure why else he could have to say to me that he hasn't already. I know it isn't 'sorry' or, hah, 'I love you, come home.' "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to you, Alfred. I…I've felt bad about that ever since. I just…if I had tried, I would never have been able to get away, you know? And I had to. I couldn't stay there, not…not after what he did to me. I was never mad at you, though."

"I understand," he nodded, sipping his tea.

"…You do?" he asked, surprised. "I figured you'd be ticked at me for leaving."

"I was at first, until Master Wayne informed me of what he'd done. After that I was rather more angry with him than with you. And then, of course, when you failed to come home after an expected amount of time what little ire I still held towards you was eclipsed by worry." He paused. "I do wish you had at least called or sent a text, my boy. Once he realized what he had done…I have only ever seen him so fearful when your very life was in question. He has become haggard with concern and self-hatred these past six months, searching for you."

"So wait," Dick's eyebrows drew together. "…You mean he doesn't know about my being here? In Bludhaven?"

"No. He does not. I only learned of it myself this morning, when my eyes happened upon the list of newly graduated officers from the joint Gotham-Bludhaven Police Academy in the newspaper." He smiled. "…I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by your choices of late, both in terms of your career and where to start it. Nor," he added, "should I be shocked to have read that you were at the top of your class."

"…Yeah, well," he shifted uncomfortably. "…I have experience. It was an unfair advantage. I actually feel pretty awful about smoking everyone the way I did. I thought about throwing it, getting stuff wrong on purpose so someone else would have a chance, but…I couldn't do it. Getting the wrong answer when it wasn't necessary for a ruse has been a life or death matter for so long now that it made me sick to my stomach to try."

"Do not berate yourself for being among the best at what you do," Alfred commanded. "I have long wished that there was some way Batman and R-…yourself," he covered smoothly, "could receive recognition for your work. Police ribbons aren't quite the same thing, but they are as close to the awards you deserve as I am ever likely to see you be given. In any case, once I knew you had taken up with either Gotham or Bludhaven's police force, it was a simple matter of having the right connections to locate your private residence." What are you calling yourself these days? I'm certain you've not given up your nightlife. You're like him in that you would sooner die than cease fighting for what you believe is right. It's a noble cause, to be sure, but I do hope you have the proper equipment for your work.

Dick just nodded. "So as soon as Bruce sees the papers, the cat's out of the bag. I didn't think about the graduation list…maybe he'll miss it?" he said hopefully. "I don't suppose you could, uh…arrange for that?"

"Even if I could, Master Dick, I would not. He has been running name searches of all local media every evening; he won't miss it. The only reason he didn't see it this morning is that I slipped a sleeping pill into his coffee last night in order to ensure he got more than an hour or two of rest. As a result, he rose late and had no time for the news before he had to leave for work."

Why am I not surprised to hear that you did that? Although the fact that it was necessary does make me feel a little awful…still, he started all of this crap, and until he figures some things out for himself we're just going to repeat the same cycle. I don't have the heart for that. The only thing worse than not talking to him is fighting with him. "So I should expect an enraged visitor sometime later today."

"I don't know, to be honest."

Ouch. As little as he wanted the same problems to repeat themselves the next time he saw his surrogate father, the thought of the man knowing where he was and opting not to come after him struck to his core. You promised you would always come for me, he bit his lip. …Was that a lie, too, the same as when you said Batman would always need Robin by his side? "What…what do you mean?"

"He wants to know that you are safe, and I believe that he's seen the error of his ways to an extent, but you know how he is with guilt; he carries far too much of it, primarily because he hasn't the slightest clue how to resolve any of it. He's never been good at that," he said reminiscently. "…No, young sir, I believe that you may have to make the first move."

"…I don't know if I can do that."

"Do you still bear resentments toward him?" he inquired, looking surprised.

"No. Well…not as much. I was frustrated, Alfred, upset by the way he was treating me. He didn't trust me anymore. He used to ask for my opinion on cases, and even if he didn't agree with it and we did something else I at least felt like he had listened and considered my thoughts. That stopped, and he never said why. He…he even stopped smiling," he flicked a tear from his cheek. "I used to be able to make him smile all the time, even when we were in costume. No one else ever saw it, but I know what it looks like when he's barely able to keep himself from grinning because what I just said was hilarious but he doesn't want to crack the façade. That ended, too. My jokes weren't funny any longer, not to him. Not even out of the cowl. I know you saw it, too. Don't deny it."

"I did," the Englishman admitted. "And I stuck my head in the sand, because I couldn't believe that it was happening. I still do not know exactly what caused him to do what he did the night that he fired you; I have my suspicions, of course, but he hasn't come to me about it, or about anything else personal for that matter, these past six months. That in itself is very odd. Perhaps once he knows you are safe he will open up again, but…I harbor a great fear that he will not do so until you are reconciled."

"…I wasn't mad until he fired me. Like I said, I…I was frustrated. He wouldn't explain. He used to explain everything, anything, when I asked." He sniffed. "I don't know what I did wrong, Alfred. I really don't."

"I'm not sure that you did anything wrong. It wouldn't be the first time that he's overreacted, as we both know. Don't blame yourself. Don't become like him in that you carry guilt for things you had little or no control over."

"It's so hard, though, not to. I just…" I had to have done something. I had to have. Bruce wouldn't just reject me suddenly without a reason. If he would just tell me what the reason is...

"Enough," the butler shook his head. "That's enough of you chastising yourself," he ordered, "and enough of this topic." As important as this conversation is, I sense that we've reached an impasse, he deemed. The essentials have been laid out, and at this point there is no new information of importance to be shared. There will be later, perhaps, when Master Wayne learns of Master Dick's whereabouts, but for right now we will simply go round in circles if we continue. That is not what I came here for, nor what he needs at the moment. "You asked how I came to acquire your mother's tea service," he reminded. "It is a short story, but a pleasant one, if you're still curious." It may pick you spirits up a bit, if nothing else.

"…Yeah," he nodded after a moment. "I would really like to hear about that."

"To be honest, young sir – and I say this to lead into the tale, not to make you feel guiltier yet – tea time has been utterly miserable since your departure. There is an awful stillness in the house that had been banished these past ten years; I had forgotten how gray its presence makes even the most beautiful things in the world seem. The only thing I could think every afternoon as I sat across from your empty chair was that, as sad as my afternoon tea was, I at least had some. I couldn't think of any way in which you could support a decent tea time, leaving as you had with nothing. Master Wayne told me that your accounts showed no withdrawals, so I was forced to rule that out, and after we spoke with the other Titans and determined that you hadn't gone to any of them the only methods I could imagine for one as young as yourself to make money were too grim to be entertained."

Dick bit his tongue, not willing to give up the assistance Clark had extended to him in those first few weeks when he was still trying to figure out what he could do to survive as a then seventeen-year-old college dropout. Bruce will have his head if he finds out, he reminded himself. Alfred would probably be a safe confidant, but if he was asked directly I don't think he would lie to him. Not about this. This is too big.

"Suffice it to say that I suspected you would resurface sooner or later," the story went on. "Hoping for sooner – forgive me, but I must say that I did miss you terribly – and knowing that you weren't likely to settle back into your old room as if nothing had occurred, I set about ensuring that you would be able to have a proper tea in your own house when that time came. It seemed only natural, after all the wonderful stories you've shared over the years, to search out the nearest thing to your mother's set that I could. With that in mind, I contacted Mr. Haly." He paused. "…We checked there, as well, you know. Master Wayne thought it a natural refuge for you to seek out. We should have known you wouldn't have gone to the first place we were sure to look. It's rather amusing, in a way; the longer you've evaded him, the more intense the war between worry and pride has become in his expression."

"Tsk. Pride?" he scoffed. …Pride? He…he has that look like he's proud of me again? I miss that look…he hasn't given it to me in so long…

"Yes. Pride," the butler replied simply, giving him a warning look. "As I said, I contacted Mr. Haly to see if he recalled any details about your family's service. I was hoping for at most a few vague recollections; imagine my surprise when he informed me that he'd been drinking from it just before he answered the telephone. Apparently one of the other performers, a Madame Soraya, had collected it from your trailer while it was being cleaned out. He was having a cup with her when I called."

"Tanti Soraya had it this whole time?" his eyes widened. "…Wow. In a way I'm not surprised – she was always jealous of it – but…did she give it back easily?"

"I didn't ask. Mr. Haly was kind enough to agree to meet me halfway between Gotham and where the circus was encamped at that time, and didn't bring the subject up. He was far too busy inquiring after you."

"You…you didn't tell him about…you know…how things have been, did you?"

"Certainly not. I merely indicated that you were struggling to find your path in life, as so many people of your age do, but that I had complete confidence that you would prove worthy to any challenge that presented itself along the way. In other words, Master Dick, I told him the absolutely truth." Their eyes met, a grateful and slightly quivering smile passing from the younger man to the elder. "The fourth cup, which as you pointed out had been destroyed, is here as the result of several weeks of scouring internet auction sites. I'm still not completely certain that it is the correct cup, but it looks and feels the part, and I've no evidence that it is not from an identical set. So, as you see, it was a far less onerous task than I originally imagined it would be. As an additional bonus, I was able to give it to you much sooner than my worst moments of daydreaming led me to accept might be the case." He leaned forward and rested his hand on Dick's knee. "…Thank you for not waiting so long to emerge that I felt the need to write it into my will."

"…Don't talk like that," was whispered back.

"I meant nothing by it, I assure you," he squeezed gently. "All is well with me, except this problem between yourself and Master Wayne."

"Alfred…I can never repay you for finding this," he said, tracing the stem that circled the handle of his cup with a fingertip. "I…I didn't even realize I wanted it until I saw it again, and now…I don't know how I could have gone so long without it."

"If it helps, young sir, perhaps think of it as a present for the birthday I missed earlier this year," the Englishman replied, sitting back and draining his own vessel. Finished, he set the cup down carefully and considered his companion. "…I regret to say that I haven't time for a second serving."

"…No?" he pouted.

"Not if you want your secret to be safe for another few hours, no. I'm due to retrieve Master Wayne from work soon. You know how he is about tardiness."

Dick flinched. Yeah. That's what set this whole mess off to begin with. "…Yeah. Although if he fires you, too, you're welcome to come live here," he quipped.

"Your offer is duly noted," he smiled, standing. They both moved to the door, where the butler did the uncharacteristic and initiated an embrace. "I'll come again as soon as I can. You have a new phone number, do you not? We noticed your old one was disconnected."

"I'll send you a text so you have it. My sergeant said I'll be on morning shifts for the first few months, so…that leaves tea time free," he said hopefully.

"Not if you want to sleep before patrol, it doesn't." He hesitated. "May I inquire as to the new name you've taken?"

"…Nightwing. Only a few other people know so far. I'm guessing that by now everyone's figured out that Robin's…retired…but I didn't want to assume. I figured that's probably the only way I could make him madder at me, would be talking to people about it, so I've been avoiding it like the plague."

"Master Dick, I know this may be difficult for you to believe, but he is far angrier at himself than he ever was at you. If he comes, talk to him. If he doesn't, then I beg of you, reach out to him. If nothing else, let him know that you're safe. Please."

"I…I'll try, Alfred. Okay? If he comes, I'll listen. The other thing…I don't know. But…I'll try." He swallowed, hoping his hesitancy wouldn't prevent the other man from visiting. "You're still going to come see me either way, right?" he asked, his voice making him sound all of ten years old again.

"Whenever I can, my boy," he clasped his shoulder. "I promise you that. Be careful," he bade him as he stepped into the hall. "I've no time for somber occasions. Do you understand?"

"I got it," he nodded. "…Thank you. For the tea set, and…you know…everything else."

"Not at all, young sir. It was my pleasure, as always."

When the butler had vanished down the hall and the heavy building door had clanged shut behind him, Dick turned back into his mostly-empty apartment and slumped into his seat. How much longer does this misery have to go on, Bruce? he wondered, burying his face in his hands as silent tears coursed down his cheeks.

Outside in the simple sedan he'd driven across the river, Alfred did the same.