Author's Note: Apologies for the length. At present, I cannot seem to help myself from cramming multiple chapter events into a single instalment. This one covers Dick's birthday, the morning after his birthday and the second round of culling for Bruce's plan to restore the city to a more restful state. There is also plenty of scope for further bonding between Bruce and Dick as well as words of wisdom and wit from Alfred for good measure. One more elongated chapter after this and then Details will formally conclude its run.

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Enjoy.

Details 14

Dmitri Black is in custody. Riley Sanders was softer in the interrogation room that I expected. Evidently he is far less comfortable when not brandishing a firearm at civilians. He agreed to testify against Black to avoid being extradited to California for previous executions. There he would undoubtedly receive the death penalty for his crimes. Sanders is currently being guarded by Jim's taskforce in an undisclosed location until Black's men give up their search and the crime lord can be brought to trial. The second round of culling to ensure stability returns to Gotham is scheduled for tomorrow evening. The ballroom incident aside, crime statistics have continued to drop to more manageable levels over the past week after four months of chaos. I am pleased that the hydra is finally on its last legs. It has allowed me to fully enjoy the boy's birthday celebrations.

Regardless of how many years pass, Dick will always belong to the circus. It may not be where he lives anymore, but it is where his heart has always been. I have always known and appreciated that. I know he misses the travelling life and his fellow performers who are, without having to say so, his extended family. My idea to book Stabler Park and invite Haley's Circus to perform at the venue seemed like prudent moves, as did my procurement of enough buffet food to feed a small country, a full-sized dance floor, a world-renowned DJ and a handcrafted six-tier birthday cake from Riccardo's. However, even I did not envision these things having such a profound effect on the guest of honour.

When first unveiling the illuminated circus tent and its hundreds of balloons all those in attendance, including Dick and all fifty of his guests, went eerily silent. For almost a minute, I feared I had misjudged the situation horribly: Alfred had suggested that perhaps the boy wanted a more mature party and volunteered the Skylark on Gotham Marina as a suitable venue for the entertainment. I had decided otherwise. When I saw a tear begin to fall down the youth's cheek as he continued to stare at the tent, I was moments away from apologising profusely for my mistake. Then he hugged me. He hugged me tighter than he ever had before, in front of all his friends, and told me he loved me more than anyone else in the world. Before I could offer a response, he had let go and lead everyone into the tent with a yelp of delight. The old man nearby offered me a knowing smile. He had known my instincts were sound: he just wanted me to trust myself with the alternate suggestion. I smiled back and we joined the crowd inside the tent.

Charles Haley greets the children from the centre of the ring and urges them to quickly take their seats for the show. Dick and his friends crowd into the centre of the bleachers and Alfred joins them. I purposely hired a full catering staff and manager to allow the old man to enjoy the entertainment this evening. If any individual has earned a respite from the grind of servitude, it is definitely Alfred. I do not join them in the bleachers but stand in the entryway of the tent. From this position, I can see outside as well as inside the tent. Although I have also taken on a large security contingent in the wake of what transpired at the Policeman's Ball, the real first line of defence against further attacks is me. My distance from the boy not only allows me to contain threats before they draw too close, but also give him space. Tonight he should be with his friends and not hampered by my shadow. As caterers supply them with popcorn and cokes to create a more authentic big top experience, Dick seems to be revelling in the spectacle. It is clear he has never seen the circus from outside the centre ring. I smile at his wide-eyed expression before watching the show for myself.

Clowns are followed by elephants which are in turn followed by lion tamers, sword throwers and fire dancers. Ninety minutes go past at startling speed. Everyone seems thoroughly entertained by the performances, something I knew would be the case considering the envious reputation the circus enjoys across five continents. Now comes a much more personal element to the colour and fun of the evening. I hope the boy is receptive to it. Following a short interval, Haley returns to the centre of the ring.

"And now boys and girls, I would like to introduce the feature attraction of our show tonight. Accompanied by our acrobatic couple of Mary and Howard Steuer in a display of high-flying and death-defying skill and supreme talent, I am proud to present our own 'Boy Wonder', Dick Grayson!" The spotlight illuminates a shocked Dick in the bleachers who immediately searches for me to confirm this is a planned stunt. His eyes find mine and I give him a nod. His eyes widen to check he can actually take part in the entertainment, something he is clearly bursting to do if his fidgeting is anything to go by. I smile and nod again. Dick needs no second invitation and gleefully bounds out of the stands and into the centre ring where the ringmaster warmly embraces him. A moment later, a nearby clown produces his Flying Graysons singlet from up its sleeve and kneels down to present it.

Charles Haley is halfway through inviting him to step backstage to change only to find the boy already in his underwear and yanking on the singlet in full view of everybody. He is clearly too excited to care for such trivialities as modesty or the opinions of his peers. It does not matter: they have been applauding wildly all night and do so again as Dick finishes his non-existent preparations for a comeback performance and begins to scale the ladder to the platform. Alfred graciously steps forward to clear away his civilian clothes. He cannot help but look a little embarrassed as he does so. Already awaiting him at the top, his minders are looking at each other anxiously. Nothing really prepares you for a Dick Grayson, particularly in his natural environment. Still, I have to smile as he clambers onto the platform to join them.

Both Mary and Howard are wonderful people, something I know having met them many times over the past six months in order to orchestrate this performance tonight. But even they struggle to control Dick's insatiable spirit and impulsive style when engaging him in trapeze work. Before they can explain any of the manoeuvres, the boy has taken off on a solo run across the tent, effortlessly transitioning three separate trapezes with complete mid-air somersaults to make the distance between them. He touches down on the far platform and raises his arms aloft in triumph. His guests' clapping somehow grows even more frenzied. His minders look at me from the other platform in bewilderment. I raise a hand to tell them I shall deal with it before turning my gaze on Dick.

He grins sheepishly at me, clearly a little less manic than a few moments earlier. I indicate the pair he left behind and watch him nod in understanding. He swings back across the tent and apologises to his minders who graciously forgive his enthusiasm. Mary even spots him a kiss and the crowd make the appropriate noise with wolf whistles and whooping aplenty. The old man mercifully does not join them. The rest of the acrobatic performance goes without any further adlibbing on the boy's part, although the quality remains unbelievably high regardless. Dick fits himself seamlessly in the dynamic of the Steuer Stars, complementing their style without trying to outshine it. And, for thirty minutes of somersaults, flips and flawless team stunts, he is a circus performer again. I love every minute of it.

When the high-flying portion of the show is finished and Dick's feet touch solid ground, he foregoes his usual bout of showboating cartwheels and backflips and sprints over to me instead. I am then embroiled in another rib-hugging hug from the youth, this time in the full glare of an overhead spotlight. A collective chorus of aww rises from both the crowd and collection of performers as I reciprocate Dick's actions with a smile I hope is not too awkward. I am slightly surprised at the lack of sarcasm from his peer group as I expected such open displays of affection to work against a teenager of his popularity. I believed it was 'uncool' to show a parent you appreciated them when in a public setting, but apparently Dick is above such adolescent clichés. He releases me a moment later, mouths 'thank you' in backing away and then returns to his friends. The rest of the show is uneventful. When it has concluded, the party files outside for the present unwrapping and the traditional disco. I take this opportunity to thank Mr Haley and his colleagues for their help and praise the quality of their show.

"We were just happy to have him back for a while. Everyone misses him on the road, his folks too." Charles Haley tells me before shaking my hand, "Thank you for adopting him, Mr Wayne. Some of us were afraid he'd have lost some of his love for performing after what happened, but he's just as lovely as ever."

"Well, he has a wonderful spirit." I say only for my companion to offer up an expression that says I am only half-right in my remark.

"That, and a father who understands how to nurture such a spirit. He's not exactly tame." Haley says with a sly grin I understand completely. The boy is nothing but not rambunctious. I smile back.

"I prefer him wild and free."

"Yes, so do we."

"Please join us outside when you can. I know it would mean a lot to him that you take part in the remainder of the festivities."

The present unwrapping takes place after everyone has had an opportunity to sample some of the food on offer and relax for twenty minutes. Once the DJ is in her final preparations for the set tonight, Dick begins the age-old tradition of opening gifts whilst sat in-between the sandwiches and vol-au-vents on the buffet table. Most of his presents are sporting goods. He gets new in-line rollerblades, ice-skates, a skateboard, two squash rackets, one tennis racket, one pool cue, two or three basketballs and a plethora of safety equipment for each sport amongst a smattering of PG-13 DVDs, branded stationery and some more novel products. Apparently I did not spot the potential hours of fun involved with rubber vomit and plastic spiders when shopping for a mature fourteen-year-old. Shame on me. Dick thanks each of his guests in turn for their presents with his typical charm, stealing kisses from the girls and gifting the boys fist-bumps and high-fives. All that is left after Alfred bestows him with a first-edition of Lord of the Flies from his personal library, is for me to give him my gift.

"I know this is perhaps a little clichéd, but my grandfather gave my father this watch when he was a boy and, if my father had lived, he no doubt would have passed it on to me." I begin pulling my father's antique Rolex watch from my trouser pocket. "Now, I've had to have the strap adjusted slightly so it fits, but otherwise it's exactly the same as it was when my grandfather wore it during the Normandy Landings. I hope you like it." I say placing it around his left wrist and fastening it for him. "Happy Birthday Dick."

The boy looks at the watch I have worn every day since I discovered it in one of my father's desk drawers at thirteen with disbelief. When he looks at me, I brace myself for what will inevitably follow my gesture. This time, presumably for variety, Dick launches himself off the table and latches around my waist with his legs before another anaconda impression breaks his own record for 'happy hugs' in a single afternoon. Alfred previously held the benchmark with two on the afternoon he not only served burritos for dinner but also produced an admittedly good apple pie. Good cooking often warrants a 'happy hug' from the boy, but my actions usually only garner a smile or verbal 'thank you' at the best of times. Inside I am privately pleased with myself. He jumps down, glances at his wrist again and then embraces me once more for good measure. Four. Twice the old man's total now. I look over and smirk at Alfred who mockingly applauds me for the accolade.

Following two hours of hormone-fuelled dancing, broken up by the cake-cutting ceremony, it's close to eleven at night and parents begin to arrive to take their children home for the evening. Thirty minutes later, it is just myself, Dick and Alfred sat amongst the Haley's contingent continuing to tear down the tent and the small army of cleaners assisting the caterers in clearing the tables and dismantling the dance floor. We sit on the bonnet and front bumper of the Bentley and watch them tidy up. All the boy's gifts have somehow been crammed into the trunk, leaving us only a drive away from the house and a well-deserved rest. Chaperoning a children's birthday party is far more draining than I anticipated, and I will be glad to get back to less stressful fare with my plan for Gotham's underworld tomorrow evening.

"Did I go overboard with the hugging?" Dick asks after a few minutes of silence.

"Four 'happy hugs' cannot be considered overkill, Master Dick." The old man replies.

"Although it is twice as many as the previous record." I counter to prompt Alfred to roll his eyes.

"Gaining your child's love should not be a competition, Master Bruce."

"Absolutely, old friend. I did win today though."

"And now you shall have to wait until next year to stand any hope of winning again."

"You know my friends' parents actually argue? All you guys do is try to out-do each other." The boy remarks with an amused smile. We both nod in agreement with him. Our arguments are always conducted in private, especially since most of them concern our child.

"Did you have a nice time today?" I ask. He smiles and nods.

"I can't believe you got Mr Haley and the whole circus down here just for me. Normally they're touring in Europe by now. It was so awesome to see them all again."

"It looked like it was even better to perform in front of an audience again." Alfred mentions, "You literally threw yourself into that task."

"I got a little carried away at the start, but any circus acrobat would if you told them they could go perform again. Howie and Mary were really cool though: if I ever ran away and joined the circus…again, I'd want to be in an act with them."

"I'm sure they'd be thrilled to hear that." I say clapping him on the back. "Why don't you go tell them while they're still tearing down? I believe they'll be heading to Europe tomorrow morning."

"Okay. See you in a few minutes." Dick vacates his seat beside mine and slides off the bonnet before walking off towards the tent remnants. We watch him go in comfortable silence until certain he can no longer hear us.

"He's lovely, isn't he Sir?" The old man says.

"I thought we decided that when he first arrived."

"We did. I only mention it again because he is still lovely, an astonishing feat considering all that has happened to him since his arrival in this house." Alfred says looking up at me from his position on the bumper. I look down at him and narrow my eyes.

"And can we share the credit or would you like to claim honours there as well?"

"I believe I kept him afloat during his first year under this roof. You have carried the burden the rest of the way." The old man says, graciously I think. Given his actual contribution to keeping the boy on an even keel outstrips my own several times, I will take a fifty-fifty split.

"And when do you think neither of us will be able to keep him happy?"

"Typically it is when they enter their late teens that our influence will begin to fade. Personally, I hope that time never comes. I'd hate him to unhappy for any reason."

"Well, rest assured old friend that if we arrive at that stage and the boy is unhappy, it will be my fault and not yours. It always is."

"Don't ruin this wonderful night with such dour predictions, Master Bruce. Whatever the future may hold, take comfort in the fact that here and now he loves you more than anyone else in the world, myself included." I incline my head in appreciation.

"Thank you Alfred. It's very nice of you to vacate the title this evening."

We arrive back at the house after midnight. We transfer all the boy's presents upstairs and take the remnants of the cake, which now fit in a large Tupperware box due to teenage appetites, into kitchen first. After these mundane tasks are behind us, it is time for an enforced curfew. Everyone must go to bed, Dick especially since he has school tomorrow. Alfred informs us breakfast will be served from seven and retires shortly after. Dick hugs the old man and thanks him again for his gift, which I understand is also signed by the author, before he is allowed to leave. After Alfred's exit, I walk the boy to his room.

"Thanks for the watch, Bruce. Are you sure you want me to have it? I might break it." Dick says once we are outside his door. I smirk.

"I have broken it before. It is nothing that cannot be repaired I promise. The only thing I would ask is you do not wear it on patrol or it will certainly break." The boy grins at me.

"Do you know that from experience?"

"Yes."

"How many times?"

"Twice. My father would turn in his grave if he knew."

"I think he'd understand." He tells me before hugging me yet again. "Thanks for everything today. It was fantastic. It must've cost a fortune." I embrace him again, far more naturally now we are in private and not under a microscope.

"The price is not important. As long as you enjoyed it, I am satisfied." I reply ruffling his hair. He pushes away, still smiling.

"Night Bruce. See you for breakfast." He says closing the door a moment later. I stand in the hallway and consider whether it is worth going to the cave and checking the surveillance feeds on the next targets for my plan. A glance at my alternative wristwatch, one of my father's nickel-plated chronometers he wore at the hospital, informs me it is two minutes to one. I am about to begin journeying downstairs when the boy's door opens again. "Don't go to the cave. Do it tomorrow. That's my last birthday wish, understand?"

"Your birthday ended at midnight."

"Well I made it my wish before then. So go to bed or I'll annoy you about for the rest of the week." He tells me firmly. I roll my eyes and concede.

"Good night then, Dick." I say walking off in the direction of my room.

I awake just before seven. A shower, shave and donning my business suit means I arrive in the kitchen just after seven-twenty where I find Dick is yet to make an appearance. I find the old man has already plated up breakfast but is more concerned with the laundry load he has just pulled from the dryer. He seems to be examining one of the boy's socks with a frown at some discrepancy or other. He compares it with its counterpart before acknowledging my presence.

"Good morning, Master Bruce. Breakfast will be served shortly."

"What seems to be the trouble, Alfred?" I ask extending my hand to sample the sock in question for myself. The old man does not surrender it.

"You probably should not touch this if you intend to shake people's hands this morning, Sir." I slowly move my hand away. I believe I understand what the problem with this sock is. He is fourteen after all. "He will ruin all his socks if this practice persists. Could you perhaps…?"

"Would it not be more fitting coming from you, old friend?"

"You did not use your socks as a receptacle for…it feels crusty, Master Bruce. I have put this and the other seven through the wash several times now, applied copious fabric softener and still…" The old man is upset I can tell. It is more because he cannot expunge the stain not because of Dick's self-exploration. He prides himself on perfect housekeeping. "And it's always the left sock as well. Always the left sock of a pair, never a pair itself. And I shudder to think how many times they have been used…" I clap him on the shoulder to stop him continuing any further. Additional details will not help.

"I will talk to him…after school."

"Before school, Sir. I can't stand much more of this."

"He'll be mortified for the whole day if I do."

"Who'll be mortified?" We turn to find the subject of our conversation stood in the doorway and still dressed in his pyjamas. His expression says he is oblivious to what has come before my last comment. I glance at Alfred and silently ask him not to force me into this scenario. When he narrows his eyes at me, I understand I have no choice. I let my gaze settle on Dick again before mustering a smile.

"We should really talk about something before Alfred loses the will to live. Let's go into the dining room."

Once we are sat opposite one another I place one of the used socks on the tablecloth. Green eyes widen and his cheeks begin to flush in the aftermath as I clear my throat.

"Alfred says that he's struggling to clean them as thoroughly as he would like. We're not saying that you can't do it, we'd just prefer it if you used your en-suite for the clean-up, not the inside of a sock. Is anything unclear?" I inquire gesturing for him to take ownership of the offending article. He leans over and removes it from the table with a shake of the head.

"No."

"Then that's the end of the matter." I assure him whilst signalling through to the kitchen for Alfred to begin serving breakfast. Dick mumbles something and excuses himself from the table. A few moments later he exits the kitchen carrying all his socks and disappears upstairs. He comes back down six minutes later now dressed for the day and looking less red. "Did you apologise to Alfred?" I ask once we are both eating. He nods without making eye contact.

"Yeah. My birthday's really over, huh?"

"Back to reality, yes. Would you still like to accompany me for the second phase of the plan tonight?"

"I'll get back to you on that. Sort of not sure at the moment."

"I understand."

The day passes with no further awkwardness arising on any front. I make it through several meetings and ensure I wash my hands prior to any deal-making or agreements. Although I am focused on continuing to project my support of the GCPD whilst maintaining Wayne Enterprises profit margins, my thoughts do drift to the boy during lulls in conversation. I hope I have not completely ruined his day with my reprimand this morning. When Alfred picks me up from the office after five, I ask after him. The old man informs me he seemed fine when being picked up at half-past three. I relax slightly and refrain from seeking him out when we get to the house. Instead I go to the cave to prepare for tonight's action. I find Dick slouched in the command chair with his feet propped up on the control panel. He appears to be handwriting an essay judging by the splayed textbooks on the armrests and the A4 paper in his lap.

"English assignment?" I ask drawing up alongside him. The boy nods without looking up from his paper.

"Yeah. I have to write about how I'd direct a scene of the Iliad for a motion picture so kids my age would enjoy and understand it." I notice he has already written the better of two sides already.

"What is the scene?"

The fight between Hector and Achilles after Patroclus' death. I think it's pretty easy to do." He says writing another line, "Lots of blood."

"Would it not be easier to do this at the table or in your room?" I say leaning on the back of the chair as he is so fond of doing to me. Dick looks up at me and shrugs.

"I tend to think a lot more when I'm sat in this chair. I think it's something to do with the guy who usually sits here: his intelligence kind of rubs off on everyone else. Alfie sometimes organises his daily schedules sat here." I am flattered by the compliment, but more encouraged by the eye contact.

"Am I forgiven for this morning then?" I inquire to earn a sheepish grin.

"I thought about what you said most of the day. At first I was so embarrassed you said anything about it, but then it dawned on me how little you actually said and how discreet you were in saying it. My mom and dad would have burst if they hadn't said the word 'masturbate' at least a million times and given a speech about 'how normal and healthy' it all was for a 'boy my age' like all those bad Sex Ed videos they make us watch. So I forgive you because it could have been so much worse." He responds before letting out a brief laugh. "I can't believe you touched it when you knew. How many times did you wash your hands today?"

"Eight times." I tell him with a smile of my own. "So are you joining me on patrol tonight?"

"Absotively, Boss."

It is close to eleven-thirty at night. We have eliminated the other six underbosses from the playing field inside of four hours despite them bolstering their protection with reinforcements. All are currently in custody after another highly physical evening that required disabling almost eighty assailants between us whilst they brandished both firearms and fragmentation grenades. Fortunately both grenades that detonated caused more damage to the throwers and their cohorts than us. Only a few pieces of fragmentation even hit my cape and the boy was out of the danger area the whole time. Jim is impressed with our efforts and is pleased to inform us he has successfully arrested several of Dmitri Black's 'fixers' whilst they hunting for Sanders. The GCPD has also taken back more districts from gang violence during the past week to further secure the city. It has been a good night all-around. Dick is tired and actually falls asleep during the ride back. It has been a long week.

With one more day of school to push before the weekend, I chose not to wake him once we arrive in the vehicle park. With careful manoeuvring I ease him out of the passenger seat, ascend six flights of stairs and put him under the covers without disturbing his sleep at all. Once the door is closed, I return to the cave, change into civilian clothes and conduct research for the final phase of my strategy to bring Gotham back to normal operation. Some five hours later, I am interrupted from my work by a bleary-eyed Dick still clad in his Robin costume minus his domino mask and footwear entering the cave. He had wrapped his cape around him like a blanket as he pads over to the command centre.

"You've done it again." He comments indicating my clothes. I look down to find I have changed from a sweater and slacks to a full business suit. I have also shaved, moisturised my face and combed my hair. On the armrest is a lukewarm cup of black coffee I must have made at some point this morning.

"You have to get up for school in less than three hours. You should go back to bed." I say as he rounds the chair. I now notice the damp condition of his hair and slick sheen to the fabric of his cape at this distance. I sigh in sympathy. More nightmares. "Come on then." I say standing up and accompanying him back to the house.

"I wish I could just find an off-switch for them sometimes." Dick says having showered, dressed in his pyjamas and gotten back under the bed covers half-an-hour later. "They're really annoying." He adds as I seat myself on the edge of his bed. I nod in agreement.

"They are certainly not convenient for a teenager. If you do not feel able to attend school today…"

"I'll be fine. I can sleep tonight. One day of zombie-walking through classes isn't going to ruin my GPA, honest." He assures me with one of his best smiles. I know the boy is very capable of managing an off-day. I would just rather he did not have to. I appreciate his attempts to reassure me but wish there was more I could do. I consider.

"I'd like you to talk to Leslie about your nightmares. Not to say you need psychiatric help, but it would make me feel better if you discussed them with someone." Dick does not look receptive to the idea of speaking with Leslie Thompkins despite her invaluable assistance in past matters. He shrugs.

"How about you?"

"I'm not particularly skilled in that area of psychology…"

"You conquer your demons every night. When was the last time you woke up from a nightmare?"

"Not too long ago." I say despite not being able to recall when I last awoke before I intended to rise. I believe it was months before the boy's arrival at the house. He sits up instead of closing his eyes. There will be a conversation. I see that now.

"I know that's not true. I'm not mad you can deal with your nightmares and I can't. You'd be totally crazy right now if you couldn't deal with them. I just want to know how you do it, night after night." He says honestly, "I know if I don't start fighting back, I'll go crazy instead. So what's the secret to your success, big guy?" I do have my methods of counterattacking my subconscious and its attempts to destroy my sanity. I have never discussed them with anybody before. They are so extreme I believe I am the only one conditioned enough to repeat them over and over again without significant scarring of my psyche. Regardless of my reluctance to share them with the boy, I owe him the truth.

"I create a room to stand in. The room's doorway is too small to allow more than one person through at a time. I stand just inside the doorway and wait. The nightmares come but can only enter one at a time. I dispatch them one at a time until there are none left." Dick looks intrigued by this method. I have yet to disclose the method's most brutal caveat.

"How long does that take, to get rid of them all?"

"I have never eliminated all of them in a single sitting. Even an entire night of sleep does not end with my victory. It is always a draw. But I never stop trying. The most important thing when confronted with your deepest fears is to never stop trying to surmount them." I tell him to inch towards the most maddening aspect of my method. He frowns at me.

"Are you saying you literally fight your demons, all night, every night until you wake up? I thought time passed slower in dreams."

"It does. There are some instances when it feels as if I am fighting for days before I wake."

"Do you really have that many demons?"

"No. I combat them all night because I cannot allow myself to kill them. Even in my subconscious, I refuse to violate our code. So I put them down, herd them out and do it all over again when they inevitably return." I say. Dick looks dumbfounded by this revelation. Even my nightmares are not shown the gallows, merely contained. He shakes his head.

"Why the hell would you let them go like that knowing they'll only come back?"

"For the same reasons I let the Joker and others go to prison and institutions. One day, they will simply give up trying to surmount me. They will realise there is no way through the wall and stop all attempts to dent it. If I thought one thing but did another, it would not be fair. It would only serve to antagonise me if I dreamt of murder every night but only went as far as to incarcerate them. Like you said 'you have your demons and I have mine, and we live with them'. Perhaps my viewpoint is idealistic or even naïve, but I believe it will one day come to pass."

"Can't you just incapacitate them all, the demons? They won't come back then." The boy suggests, now trying to help me than himself. I honestly think he cannot help being selfless, even in his current predicament. I pat him on the back.

"They have a tendency to respawn like video game characters if left long enough. Believe me I have considered all possibilities. This is my best solution. I'm sorry I can't be more helpful. Leslie would likely have a much more viable solution for you to try." Dick grips my forearm and squeezes it.

"I'm good talking to you. And I feel better already. Even I don't lock myself in an inescapable room with my nightmares. At least I have the option to run away." He tells me with a grin I easily return.

"Well please try to sleep for the next couple of hours and I shall join you for breakfast." I say removing my hand from his back and expecting him to do the same. His hand clamps down on my forearm. He does not like my request.

"And let you go back to the cave until then? Not happening. You haven't slept for almost twenty-four hours: lie down here and at least have a power nap. You're tough, not invincible." He says patting the vacant side of his bed. His concern is touching but unnecessary. My current level of fatigue is nothing of consequence.

"Perhaps another time." I say only for him to insist.

"Lie down or I'll scream in your ear until you do. You know I can still hit the high notes. You don't want to go to work deaf do you?" He once accidentally shrieked in my ear when I was treating a gash on his leg during the first days of our partnership. I did not hear out of my left ear properly for two days. I cannot help but wince at the memory of this. I oblige him again and lie down atop of the covers beside him. He smiles and joins me in lying flat on the mattress.

"I will close my eyes for ten minutes." I inform him whilst folding my hands across my stomach and closing my eyes. I hear the boy audibly smirk.

"Whatever you say, big guy, whatever you say. Don't worry: I'll wake you for breakfast."

"Thank you."