Author's Note: For those that missed it, Beneath the Mask has been posted. I decided to post it now so that people could have some fun when compared to all the angst happening in Masks at present.

Chapter 21.

My hands clasped above my head, I glided through the water, my legs kicking behind me. Wayne Manor had the luxury of a heated indoor pool and I was loathe to allow something so glorious go to waste. Indeed, once I had discovered it, I visited here every day.

Alfred had quickly acquired a suit for swimming for me, rather than allowing me to swim in my undergarments. Sometimes it was easy to forget there are other people in this place too, it always seems so big and lonely.

I liked to swim, it was almost like flying except that the friction of the water is much stronger against my skin. I do not need to breathe, for my kind breathing can be considered optional. I am able hold my breath for a long time in space. Breathing only becomes necessary when we are unaware of it, such as in the middle of battle, or speaking. If we concentrate on holding it, during space travel for example, we cannot multitask well beyond flight. I cannot become unconscious in space either or I would surely perish. I cannot hold my breath, use my starbolts, fly and fight for long periods of time.

Even if I have difficulty finding the concentration to hold my breath and use all my abilities at the same time, it does not prevent me from practicing. It is always better to practice someplace where if you accidently take a breath it will not kill you.

And since I still was unable to experience the joy of flight, and I needed something to occupy my mind during the long days, swimming seemed an obvious choice.

Of course, the first time I tried this, I made the mistake of simply floating in the water instead of swimming and Alfred had been most surprised to find me well after leaping into the pool to rescue me.

Now, I simply conducted the laps beneath the water, pushing my body until my chest began to burn. It was becoming easier, I believe because my swimming stamina was increasing too.

Babs would, on the occasions she was at the Manor, join me in doing the laps. Although she cannot hold her breath as I can, she was a very fast swimmer and we would race, myself below the water while she powered above me. I have yet to beat her. I believe she is, as Beast Boy would say, part aquatic creature.

She has the College today, so I was not expecting her to be at the Manor, which meant a lonely day of being ignored for me. Truly, I looked forward to the times Babs was at the Manor, even if it was just to train by her side. Even though she was grieving too, she seemed to have a better way of coping with it than Dick or Bruce did. Her presence filled the Manor and it was always quieter when she was gone. I wished she could be around more, perhaps Bruce would not have fallen so far if she was. She knows him better than I do.

Dick was trying, especially after our 'you will not use me for sex' conversation and we had not conducted coitus again since then. We had played and kissed, but little else. He would try and remember to have lunch with me, or come and find me in the afternoon and just sit by my side, but mostly his mood was still sombre and uncommunicative. I would still have to go and drag him from the gym so he would sleep at night.

He remained overly aggressive against criminals but I sensed that the anger was beginning to slip back into more professionalism, for which I was grateful. I looked forward to the patrols, I disliked being caged inside the Manor.

I blew a stream of noisy bubbles behind me, emptying my lungs of air, and then surfaced. I gulped in a breath, checked the surroundings in case Alfred or Dick required me and dove back under the water.

There were now heated arguments conducted behind closed doors between Dick and Bruce. Vicious name calling and blame being thrown around.

I remembered the first one. I had been walking down the hallway, just outside Dick's room and I could hear screaming. Darting down the corridor, I discovered Alfred hesitating just outside Bruce's den, hidden from the view of the door.

"It's your fucking fault—"

"Oh, don't give me that crap."

"You let the Joker walk away with us. You could have stopped him."

"And let all those innocents die. You were the one that was there."

"Do you know how fucking hard it was to survive? Head injury, Bruce. I could barely fucking move."

"He was your brother. You should have done better, but you were too concerned with your little piece of ass—"

"Don't you fucking dare bring her into this! She wouldn't even have been here if it wasn't for your fucking secrets. I told you he wasn't ready and you still send him out there."

Alfred looked at me as I reached him, his face resigned and a little anxious. I went straight past him and into the room, I could not just ignore this. Alfred tried to stop me, and truly, I should have taken my cues from him.

Bruce sneered at me the moment I entered. "And look, here she is again, sticking her nose in where it doesn't belong."

"Don't you fucking talk to her like that," Dick yelled, moving so he was between Bruce and me. "You have no right. Star, get out of here."

"But—"

Dick swivelled and screamed at me, "Now!"

I fled, hiding behind Alfred just outside the door. Alfred put his arm around my shoulder. "It is best just to let them go," he whispered to me and patted my back.

"He wasn't ready and you fucking know it."

"How would you know, you're never here."

"Because you fucking fired me. Did you really think I'd stick around after that?"

"You got shot."

"Oh, and like you've never been shot," Dick scoffed. "I should have never fucking come back to Gotham."

They screamed foul names at each other for a long moment, horrible vicious words before Dick stormed from the room. He stomped off down the hallway without even looking at me while I stared at him in shock.

Together, Alfred and I peered into the room, seeing Bruce consuming scotch straight from the bottle.

Alfred sighed. "You speak to Master Dick and I will talk to Master Bruce."

I followed Dick down to the gym, he knew I was following him. He went straight for the obstacle course, running it over and over again. I paced him for a while, not talking because I knew if I tried he would yell at me again, but eventually I stopped, just sitting on the mat and watched him.

When Dick finally collapsed in exhaustion, his breath was rattling in his chest so badly it sounded like he could not breathe at all. I walked over to him and helped him to his feet. Although I could have carried him, I knew he would not like that, so I simply moved one of his arms so it was over my shoulder and supported his weight as he took imaginary steps to the locker room.

We did not exchange a word as I got the shower ready for him then knelt down to undo his shoelaces. He watched me through veiled eyes, lifting his arms obediently as I removed his shirt and moving his legs as I divested him of his pants. I was helping him into the shower when he grabbed me, clothes and all and pulled me under the water with him, his arms almost squishing me he was holding on so tightly.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't mean to yell at you too. I'm so sorry, Star, I just get so angry."

I stroked his back. "I know."

"Forgive me," he mumbled into my neck, squeezing me even tighter. "Everything so fucked up."

After that, Alfred and I just lingered in the hallway and waited for the arguments to be over. They were not as explosive as that first one, but they were still bad. I stayed out of earshot, I did not like the names they called each other. Afterward, Bruce would consume vast amounts of alcohol very quickly and Dick would not speak to me for hours, but he did not yell at me again. I would sit and watch him work through his anger in the gym and just wait and eventually he would collapse against me and mumble apologies.

I sighed, bubbles escaping my mouth and I had to return to the surface to snatch in another breath. I would have preferred Dick and Bruce go back to not speaking, rather than yelling at each other.

Lap after lap I swam, practicing holding my breath, before I became bored with my practice and simply floated on top of the water, staring at the ceiling. My fingers were wrinkled from excess moisture and there was water in my ears. I glanced at the large clock at the end of the pool. With a sigh, I flipped and swam toward the edge of the pool.

I showered, conditioning my hair well as the chemicals in the water liked to weaken it. Dressed in jeans and a shirt, I wandered down to the kitchens for the snack and went to find Dick.

He was in the gym, to be expected, but I consoled myself with seeing he was not working himself into exhaustion. He was balancing on his hands on a wooden pole, his body curved so that his feet almost touched his head. As I watched, he shifted his weight until he was able to lift one hand from the wooden pole and extend it out beside him.

I smiled to myself, lingering in the entrance to the gym, before stealthily moving closer. I do love to watch him when he does things like this, especially the way his shirt falls and reveals the shifting muscles of his abdomen. It was such a splendid sight. I was entranced.

He placed his hand back on the pole and lowered himself down so his weight rested on his elbows and forearms, then extended his legs so they were perfectly straight up in the air. He lowered himself further, keeping his legs extended, so the collar of his chest was on the pole and he could reposition his hands flat, then lifted himself back up into the handstand. His legs curved again, his back arched, his feet pointing toward his head.

He extended his other arm out, wobbling slightly and I guessed that was because it was his previously injured arm taking his weight. I could see the still red puckering of his skin around the wound and I wished he would not push himself so hard. He pointed his free arm forward, then up so he could grasp his ankle with his hand.

"I sense a Starfire," he said, turning his head toward me. "Hi beautiful. Guess it's time to stop?" His arm dropped back to the wooden pole and he bounced once, pushing off and throwing his legs forward at the same time so he flipped upright.

"No," I said mournfully. "You did not need to."

"No, I should," he said, walking toward me, wiping the sweat from his head on his wrist bands.

"Could you teach me to do that?" I asked, hoping perhaps he would spend some time with me.

He considered. "Um… I could, but not now. I have a few things I need to get done this afternoon."

I was disappointed. "Oh. Anything I can assist you with?"

"No, it's pretty boring," he said. "Camera watching really. And I need to check my equipment for tonight's patrol." He gave me a kiss on the cheek as he passed me. "I'll hit the showers and come find you when I'm done."

I had heard that before. "I could join you in the shower?" I suggested.

"Nah, it's cool."

That hurt. "Dick—"

"Why don't you think of a movie for us to watch," he suggested, still walking toward the locker room. "It's been a while since we've watched one. Anything you want, we've got access to practically anything."

I snorted. "Even the Princess Bride?"

"It would be 'inconceivable' of me to not have that one, considering you're my girlfriend." He turned around and blew me a kiss, walking backward. "We can watch that, if you want. I'll see you later."

Even though I knew I had been manipulated into leaving him alone for the moment, the possibility of watching a movie with him later was promising and I did not mind as much.

Bruce was not in his den when I went to check on him, so I snuck down to the Batcave. He was staring at a monitoring system but I was not certain he was paying attention. "Bruce?"

"Hello, Starfire," he replied in a bland voice, lifting his glass off the panel beside him and hiding it in his lap, even though I had already seen it.

"I was just—"

"I know what you were doing," he told me, anger in his tone. "I do not require anything."

"Are you certain? I could fetch you some lunch—"

"Goodbye, Starfire," he snapped.

I sighed at the dismissal. "Goodbye, Bruce."

It was too early to go patrolling or call Raven, and it was raining again so I could not venture outside, so I curled up in the solarium with one of the books I had borrowed from the Manor's library. The solarium was becoming my new favourite place in the Manor, mainly because of the sun and the heat. Even when it rained, the room was warmer, and I liked to listen to the patter of it on the glass.

I had brought some dried fruit with me and I munched on that while I read. I hoped Dick would not be too long, but I also knew I could be here for quite a while. I was just glad it was a good book.

"Miss Starfire?"

I looked up from my book and smiled. "Greetings Alfred."

Alfred hesitated at the doorway, then squared his shoulders. "May I request a moment of your time? Your assistance would be appreciated."

"Yes, of course," I replied, closing my book and leaving it on the chair. "What can I help you with?"

"I fear it is rather… embarrassing," he said. "Please come with me."

We did not speak as I followed him, although I was curious as to what he wanted. He led me down to the family wing of the Manor and paused outside a door. There were a lot of white sheets folded up outside.

I stared at the name etched into a wooden plague in the door, before looking at Alfred in surprise.

Alfred cleared his throat. "Miss Starfire, Master Jason's belongings need to be adequately protected from dust and the elements. This is too significant of a task for me to simply assign it to a maid and I wish to see it done personally." He swallowed. "However, I find myself unable to enter his room."

I pressed my lips together, fighting back tears. "What do you require of me?"

Alfred's voice was tight. "If you would be so kind, could you enter and cover the furniture with a sheet?"

"Certainly." I stooped and picked up a handful of the sheets on the floor and Alfred opened the door.

A tidy room, not unlike Dick's, however there were a lot more of the metal that was heavier posters on the wall. There was a distinct lack of glass in the room too, Dick had a few pottery pieces adorning tables but Jason's room seemed lacking in that department. Indeed there did not seem to be many personal items at all in the room.

With his hands behind his back and an air of apprehension, Alfred lingered at the doorway, the line he could not bring himself to cross. I placed my piles of sheets on the bed, sorting through the various sizes. Taking a larger one, I shook it out and gently placed it over the closest sofa. "Just like this?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied. "That is perfect."

I was silent for a while, carefully covering the furniture to protect it as I worked my way around the room. "Alfred, may I ask you something?"

"Certainly," he replied.

I glanced over at him. "I am curious. You mentioned Bruce was present at the death of Dick's parents and that was part of the reason why Bruce adopted Dick, but how—"

Alfred gave me a small smile. "How did Master Bruce find Master Jason?"

I nodded, rearranging another sheet and brushing it with my hands so it was flat.

"Master Jason attempted to steal the tyres from the Batmobile. He would have succeeded too if Batman had not returned at an inopportune moment."

I blinked, that surprised me. "Truly?"

"Master Jason grew up on the streets of Gotham, Miss Starfire," Alfred explained. "It can be a hard life and a struggle to survive. His mother died of a drug overdose when he was young and then he spent his time in many foster homes before becoming lost to the streets. I imagine Batman's tyres would have kept him fed a good while."

"That is terrible," I commented, continuing to work. I sensed that I should not tarry here, it was clear it was hurting Alfred to linger at the door while I did this for him and I did not wish for him to be in any more pain than necessary.

"Unfortunately, that is the fate of many youngsters. There is only so much that can be done and a lot of them do not wish for help. Master Jason was one of the lucky ones but he could have easily ended up in a gang."

"I see." I glanced down at what appeared to be a faint oil stain on the carpet and tilted my head curiously.

Alfred chuckled. "He and Master Bruce used to argue over the littlest of things, insignificant almost. We once discovered Master Jason with his motorcycle in here, taking it apart so that no one could steal it. Master Bruce was angry about the carpet, but not angry that it was his best motorcycle."

"Why was that?"

"I believe he was pleased Master Jason was taking an interest in them."

"I wish I had known him better," I said, picking up a picture frame that consisted of a very old and battered picture of Jason and possibly his biological parents.

"He was a fine young man," Alfred said. "Very headstrong and had a thirst to prove himself. But he was also very angry. Master Bruce hoped to channel that anger into becoming a crime fighter."

I nodded, understanding.

"Master Dick was the first son, beloved of course, but unfortunately he set the standard. Master Jason was the second and it was a competition with him. He felt he had to live up to Master Dick's reputation, his skill. I warned Master Bruce he was placing too many expectations on the poor boy and not enough positive reinforcement, but…"

I glanced at Alfred, concerned. I had never heard him speak so freely before.

He lifted his head and I saw this veil envelop his demeanour. It was like he was stepping behind a wall, separating himself once again. "It is not my place to speak ill of Master Bruce. He did what he thought was right."

I nodded again, and lay the picture flat so it would not break when I placed the sheet over the drawer.

"The curtains too, if you would not mind."

"Of course," I said, and crossed the room to the two huge windows. I tugged on the red rope holding the curtains separate, releasing them and carefully arranged them so no light would enter.

Turning, I walked back to Alfred's side and crossed over that line. He seemed to relax now I was out of the room.

"Thank you, Miss Starfire," he said with a bow. "I appreciate your assistance in this matter."

"You are most welcome, Alfred," I said.

I turned, looking back into Jason's room. So solemn, with a sense of finality. Jason's life, all hidden behind white drapery.

"He had so much potential," Alfred mourned, quietly and mostly to himself, and closed the door.

Author's Note: Poor Alfred. No one ever thinks of him. Eve, I think he needs a hug.