A/N: If I take inspiration from a reader's suggestion, I will always make as much known in bold before the chapter's text, as I did in the previous chapter. :) As it is, I think I've been given enough inspiration to compliment my own for the time being, so please halt your suggestions, though I THANK YOU for them as this whole process has really helped elevate my writer's block! However, reviews are, as always GREATLY APPRECIATED! :D Let me know what you think of my work! Seriously, I love getting reviews and you readers are so encouraging... :D
P.S. I SAW "THOR: THE DARK WORLD" TWICE ALREADY AND IT WAS AWESOME; I HIGHLY RECOMMEND IT FOR ALL OF YOU!
Looking into those eyes, Alfred remembered why he'd been such a push-over in Bruce's youth; looking into those eyes, Alfred couldn't resist giving in to the young boy's demands…most of the time.
"Alfred, can I stay up with you and wait?"
It was a simple request really, and one that any normal caregiver might occasionally indulge, but Alfred was not any sort of normal hired help, a fact already discovered by Young Master Dick. (Could he even remember a time when his relationships with the Wayne family had been strictly professional?)
"I'm afraid not, Master Dick. Master Bruce's flight will be in very late; you need to get your rest."
The eight-year-old visibly bristled, and Alfred prepared himself for the battle Dick's defiance was sure to instigate.
"Pleeeeeeeease, Alfred!" Dick whined, ocean blue eyes wide and pleading. "Pleeeeease? I won't be trouble, honest; I'll sit quietly and…and…" he hesitated, thinking quickly, "…do homework! Yeah, I'll even do next week's homework! Just, please, can I stay up with you?"
Ah, but Dick was serious if he offered to get ahead on his school work. Perhaps Alfred shouldn't have been so obvious when waiting up for his former charge. When the latter was simply away on business for Wayne Enterprises, Alfred slept easily; on those occasions, like now, when as much was a ruse for his vigilante activity, Alfred became anxious, a fact he was sure that their recent household addition could sense.
In a rare moment of failed composure, Alfred ran a hand through his thinning gray hair and sighed. He'd stopped dusting the grandfather clock that housed the Batcave's secret entrance, and looked at the boy standing before him in gray, red robin clad pajamas, the boy who should have been in bed two hours ago.
"Master Dick," he sighed again, folding his arms behind him and exuding a no-nonsense attitude, "Master Bruce would not be pleased to know your sleep deprivation was the result of his extended absence, so off to bed."
"But, Alfred," Dick insisted stubbornly, "Bruce wouldn't be happy to know that he's the cause of your sleep deprivation either..." He stood unabashed for a moment before Alfred's strict gaze had him lowering his eyes to the wood floor and scuffing his bare foot against its grain.
"That may be true," said the gentleman, sternly, "but Master Bruce has granted me final authority over you, Young Master, in the wake of his sudden departure, and depends on me that I should see to your good. Thus, you will go to bed." He paused as he noted with satisfaction Dick's contrition, and, with even more satisfaction—disciplining the young Bruce (and now Dick) had always been Alfred's least favorite task—, let characteristic warmth seep into his tone. "But first, how about some hot cocoa? Soon we'll both be off. You've been awake this long already; I don't see that a bit longer will hurt."
The smile on Dick's face outshone Alfred's own, but the joy behind their expressions was nearly identical. As Alfred busied himself with the drinking chocolate, Dick sat cheerfully at the kitchen table, observing his caregiver thoughtfully.
"What's that stuff you always put in the hot chocolate?" he asked, cocking his head slightly. "That stuff that makes it so thick and creamy?"
"Cornstarch," answered Alfred without turning around, "and dairy cream. The froth is something my mother deemed necessary, and I've learned it from her."
Dick grew noticeably quiet then, and, upon turning, Alfred noted tears prickling at the corners of the young boy's eyes. He sat a frothy mug before Dick and sat at his left side.
"My mom never made hot chocolate," said Dick, eyes downcast, ignoring the drink. "We never really had a lot of down time between the acts, so we usually ate with the other performers on tour, but she made really good pancakes sometimes, and warm milk for me when I couldn't sleep…" He trailed off, trying and failing to hide his grief.
Alfred set his cup down and placed a hand over the one Dick had lying on the table. "Did you know that Master Bruce lost his mother?" he asked Dick seriously.
Dick shook his head, looking surprised as his tears began leaking.
"He did," the older man continued, "and his father, too."
Dick's tears were falling readily now, and Alfred reached in his vest pocket for a handkerchief, dabbing Dick's face. Their eyes met like the horizon between gray sky and ocean waves, though the younger's were rung in red.
"I've raised Master Bruce since he was a boy," Alfred continued, "and I'm going to tell you something that I told him long ago." He placed a hand on Dick's shoulder. "Those people that we love so much never really leave us. They exist in our memory and in our hearts, and no one will ever remove them."
"But I want them here," Dick cried, rubbing his eyes and looking to the older man for wisdom. "I want them here with me."
"I know, son, I know," Alfred admitted, "But someday, we'll be with them." His voice grew fervent. "And they are waiting for us to live full, long lives in the meantime, looking down on us proudly. They are looking down on you."
In Bruce's childhood, he knew, he had always been just a bit too reserved. Not so, he resolved, with Dick. He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "And they have put people in your life to help you through." Dick hiccuped, and Alfred smiled just a bit. "I'm here, and Master Bruce is here. I promise, we won't be leaving you for a good, long while."
"I can't ever sleep when Bruce is gone," Dick admitted finally. "I wanted to stay up with you because it scares me to be alone." He looked down again, somewhat ashamed, and in that gesture alone Alfred began to see just how alike Bruce and the young Dick were.
"How about we finish our cocoa, and I'll come sit with you," Alfred suggested kindly. "Master Bruce can let himself in tonight, and I'll stay awake with you until he's safely home so that you can get some sleep."
"But I want to stay up with you," Dick said. A yawn betrayed his words and a glance at the clock told Alfred why—ten minutes 'til midnight.
"We'll see," he said, standing and draining his coca in one final gulp. "Come, Young Master. We'll read together. Have you heard of The Little Prince…?"
Four hours later, Bruce returned to a seemingly empty house. Searching the cavernous mansion, he quickly found the remainder of the household asleep in his young ward's room: Alfred snoring lightly above the covers with a book in his lap, and Dick, bundled warmly, resting in the crook of the older man's arm.
Bruce skimmed over the page at which they'd inevitably fallen asleep and, smiling softly to himself, turned out the bedside light before heading toward his room.
"'…You - you alone will have the stars as no one else has them—'" Read Alfred to the tired young boy at his side as he coaxed him into sleep.
"'What are you trying to say?'" he interjected, knowing the words by heart.
"'In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing.'" Alfred tightened his arm around Bruce, who giggled and smiled his dimpled smile. "'And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night...You - only you - will have stars that can laugh…'"