This is a shorter chapter, but I supplied the information I intended. Anymore and it would have become rambling.

Alfred walked into the study where he found Bruce Wayne seated in his chair, reading a newspaper.
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"Master Wayne," Alfred voiced. "Dr. Thompkins is on the telephone."

"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce said as he hoisted himself out of his lounger and hurried across the study to his desk.

Alfred crossed the room and began mimicking the act of dusting the lamp on the side table carelessly. He was more curious about the results for Tim's exam than keeping the place tidy.

"Hello, Leslie," Bruce answered in a friendly tone, placing the receiver to his ear.

Alfred couldn't make out the muffled sounds of Leslie's voice through the phone, so he focused on Bruce's end.

"Dimethyl Ether?" Bruce repeated into the phone, niceness quickly being washed away. "Like the ingredient used in Freon?"

Bruce's puzzled look was erased with whatever Leslie had said on the other end. It elaborately changed to despair.

"I see."

Alfred watched Bruce listen intently to the doctor. He saw him nod a few times, and end with wiping beads of sweat from his brow.

"So there was an object used instead," Bruce concluded.

Alfred was lost in thought after receiving only half of the conversation.

What object?

What was it used for?

What about the Freon?

"How long do you think?" Bruce asked.

Alfred halted his performance of cleaning the study and, instead, crept closer to Bruce. He cradled the duster in his hands waiting for the moment Bruce was finished so he could have his many questions answered.

"I understand," Bruce exhaled giving a concerned, hurt look to his faithful butler. He placed a hand on Alfred's shoulder, letting him silently know things would be okay.

"Alright, Leslie," Bruce acknowledged. "Yes, I will. Uh huh. I'll be sure to do that. Thank you, Leslie."

Bruce hung up the receiver and focused his gaze down as he moved his body to face Alfred once more. His composure was shaken and Alfred was on his heels waiting for any information about his boy.

Bruce finally looked up and began relaying the conversation.

"Those were Tim's results from the exam." Something of fear or hopelessness shadowed Bruce's features, causing concern for Alfred.

"Do go on, Master Bruce," Alfred insisted, still clutching his duster in anticipation.

Bruce continued, "Leslie found traces of dimethyl ether, ethanol, and tert-butanol in his rape kit." He paused allowing Alfred time to draw his own conclusions on the combination of the chemicals.

Alfred remained puzzled, searching his mind for what the chemicals were found in: biofuel? Propane? Farm feed?

The shock struck him hard when Alfred realized the common household item.

"Hairspray?"

Bruce nodded with closed eyes.

"She also found old scarring from previous attacks and burns as well." Bruce took a breath, "I have reasons to believe, the person that attacked Tim, used a hot curling iron to defile him."

"Oh dear," Alfred gasped, placing a withered hand over his gaping mouth. "For how long?" He mumbled.

"The abuse has been going on for years," Bruce responded. "Not only that, I believe it's someone close to the family."

"Oh no," Alfred whined.

Bruce regained his composure and instructed Alfred in a professional manner after seeing the butler lose his collected calm. "Alfred, I need you to take care of Tim."

"Where are you going, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, watching Bruce unbutton his jacket.

"I have some questions that need answering." Bruce stopped for a second in the doorway, turning his head back in Alfred's direction.

As bruce loosened his necktie, his voice became more gravelly and his darkness billowed forth, "The Batman is going to get to the bottom of this."