They were so entrenched in their work the next day that it took quite an effort for Alfred to convince them to leave off for a little New Year's festivizing.

"Alfred, we've got to find a cure!" Dick insisted, peering over the laptop balanced on his knees. Bruce had set him to studying any and every suggested fix for mind control that he could find, no matter how esoteric or ridiculous sounding, in the hopes that if nothing else something might spark an idea in their heads.

"Young sir, I completely understand your concern, and your drive to continue working is admirable," the butler said gently. "But neither yourself nor Master Wayne have left the cave in over twelve hours. It is now eleven o'clock. By the time you go upstairs, get into your coats, and drive to a good viewing location for the city fireworks, it will be nearly midnight. I would be very surprised to see you back at the house any later than one. While that is past your normal weeknight bedtime by a fair margin, I believe an exception can probably be made given the circumstances. Can it not, sir?" he addressed to the billionaire.

Bruce looked up, eyes grainy from a full day of staring at small print. "I already said you could stay up late, didn't I, kiddo?"

"Yeah, but so we could keep working!"

Stubborn, he smiled tiredly. What kid would rather re-read the same information for the billionth time than go out and see fireworks? Sitting back a little in his chair, he stretched, yawning. "You know, I think Alfred has a point. We'll work better after a little break. Plus," he added as he saw protest rising, "it's New Year's Eve. We can't not go to the fireworks show."

"…But-"

"No buts," he shook his head. "We're going. Come on, let's get ready."

An hour later, curled against his guardian in the front seat of the car, Dick had to admit that it was nice to do something other than read about voodoo zombies and people tinfoil hats. "That was pretty," he commented as a particularly bright starburst expanded over downtown.

"It was," Bruce nodded. "Gotham puts on good fireworks displays. I'm surprised there's no one else here, though," he considered the empty overlook they were parked in. "There are normally at least a few other vehicles."

"It's kind of cold out tonight. Maybe people stayed home" Dick suggested, nestling closer. A minute later the several bell towers in the city began to ring out midnight. "…Happy new year, Bruce."

"Happy new year, chum," he wished back, squeezing him tightly with one arm. "It's going to be okay," he whispered against his hair.

"…I hope you're right," came sighed back. "I just feel so useless right now…"

"You're not. Trust me, you're not." The grand finale started as the last peal faded away, and they watched in silence. When it was over, neither moved, not wanting to break the spell of the moment. "I couldn't hope for a better partner to solve this year's cases with," he said finally.

"…We're gonna catch so many bad guys."

"Yeah we are. You know it." He tightened his embrace once more, then released him. "Let's get home. I'll bet Alfred's got hot chocolate waiting for us."

"Cool. Then we can get back to work, right?" he queried as he slid back over to the passenger side.

"…If you aren't too tired. You need to rest, you know."

"So do you," he countered. "But I'll bet you're not going to bed."

"…Children require more sleep than adults," he tried. Alfred, don't fail me now.

"Quoting Alfred? Really?"

"I should have known you'd catch that," he sighed, reversing out of his spot as he heard the passenger seatbelt click. "Anyway, we have all day tomorrow to keep going, and you're home all week, too. Although that doesn't mean I expect you to spend every waking minute of your vacation working on this," he added swiftly.

"You know I will, though."

"…Yeah. I know. But you're still coming to tour R&D on Friday," he said sternly. "Whether we've found a solution by then or not."

"Okay," the boy agreed. "I won't argue with that."

"Good."

Despite his protestations, Dick was tired, and they were on the road less than five minutes before he nodded off. Pulling up in front of the manor, Bruce sat for a minute and watched him sleep before coming around and lifting him out of the car. He took his coat and boots off, but left him dressed as he settled him into bed, well aware that attempting to change him into pajamas would wake him. If he wakes up, he'll want to go right back downstairs and work. He obviously needs to sleep, so I'm not taking that chance, he thought as he pulled the blankets up to his chin. Dropping a kiss on his temple, he stole from the room, sending his usual little glare in the direction of the Superman night light plugged into the wall.

By the next evening, the billionaire was getting tired of the increasingly more baleful looks Alfred had been sending in his direction all day. "I'll be back in a minute, Dick," he said after a particularly cold stare all but made the hair raise on the back of his neck.

"Mmkay," the boy muttered, not looking up from where he was now investigating large chemical fires that had taken place over the last twelve months. The charred site of Sawyer's old lab wasn't likely to yield much information even if they did find it – Bruce had no doubt that the chemist had chosen the word incinerated for a reason – but if nothing else it was a straw to grasp at.

Concluding that that was the most response he was going to get, he followed the butler upstairs, finding him easily in the kitchen. "Alfred, what's going on?" he cut to the chase from the doorway.

"Sir?"

"You've been glaring at me all day. Why?"

"I don't believe I'd qualify my expressions since this morning as glaring, Master Wayne," he said mildly as he grated vegetables.

"Well then what would you call them?" he asked exasperatedly. Quit making this difficult and just tell me what I did wrong

"I would call them indicators that there is advice you ought to take into consideration which is best left unspoken within the range of the youngest member of the household, sir."

"Uh-huh. And you couldn't have just said that you wanted to talk to me?"

"Little ears pick up far more subtext than we frequently give them credit for. You of all people should know that, I would think." He ran the sink ran for a moment, giving their conversation pause, and then shut it off. "Now," he turned to face his elder charge. "He has been focused on this issue for nearly 48 hours straight, with no pause other than the fireworks last night."

"Yes, he has been. By his own choice. I told him that I didn't expect him to spend all of his time on it."

"And I suppose you thought that he was likely to take advantage of that, did you?"

"…Well, no." Especially considering that he told me he wouldn't, he chose to keep to himself.

"His dedication in helping you with this…issue…is marvelous, sir. However, we both know that he needs, and has earned, distraction of some sort from it."

"I'm not pulling him from this case, Alfred. Helping me with it has made his nightmares manageable, and lets him know that I value his input as my partner. I won't risk either of those things. Plus…to be honest, I need him down there with me." He keeps me steady. He keeps me fighting.

"I'm not suggesting that you forbid him from helping you. However, I believe he would be benefitted by some more amusing activity, if only for a few hours."

Bruce reflected on the flat, disinterested response and the glassy look in the boy's eyes when he'd left him a short while before. Maybe he is a little too sunk into this. I'm glad he can concentrate so stolidly, but he's still a child. He recalled his own childhood, spent by choice largely in the company of books and old memories in spite of Alfred's many attempts to engage him in other pastimes. They'd been long, lonely years, and for all that they had given him many of the tools that he had come to need as Batman, it wasn't the kind of childhood he wanted Dick to look back on as an adult.

"He needs bright spots in the midst of the dark, sir, or his own light may dim," the butler said quietly.

And that is the last thing I want, the billionaire grimaced. "What did you have in mind?"

"Your tour of Research and Development with Mr. Fox is scheduled for Friday, correct?"

"Yes."

"You could move it up to tomorrow afternoon."

A thin line appeared between Bruce's eyebrows as he considered. "I think I have a meeting then. And it would be inconvenient for Lucius, too, to switch it last minute like that."

"Not at all, sir. Your schedule is clear, and Mr. Fox was most amenable to the suggestion a short while ago. He even commented that it would be a delightful way to begin the company's new year. I seem to recall him utilizing the phrase 'fresh blood…'"

"'Fresh blood?' How many times do I have to tell people to stop scouting my nine year old?"

"Obvious talent frequently results in such frenzy amongst adults with foresight, Master Wayne. I'm afraid it's only likely to get worse as he ages."

"So am I supposed to take it that you've already moved the appointment?"

"Indeed I have, sir."

"Alfred…" he half-groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You always know what's best, but boy do you get me in line with your plans by the most annoying method sometimes.

"You're quite welcome," the Englishman stated modestly, opting to interpret the complaint as a token of thanks. "…I'm sure Master Dick will be delighted to hear the news," he urged when his elder charge continued to loiter in the doorway.

"I guess I'll go tell him, since it's all set up," he sighed. "Anything else you're planning on rearranging unexpectedly? I just figured I'd tell him all at once."

"Not as of this moment, sir. I'll be certain to inform you should that change." Over the vegetables, Alfred hid a tiny smirk. You may be slightly disconcerted, Master Wayne, but believe me when I say he needs a break. If this were a school week he would naturally have distraction, but since he is on vacation and clearly determined to waste away downstairs until you are cured we must take the initiative.

Going back down to the cave, Bruce glanced at his watch. If he's going to come to the office tomorrow, he should go to bed soon, he reflected. Somehow I don't think he's going to be happy about that. "…Hey, kiddo?"

"Uh-huh…?" His gaze was still firmly fixed to his computer screen, but his eyelids were drooping.

"Here," the man took the laptop, closing it as he set it on the counter.

"But-" he protested, sitting up straighter and pouting slightly. "I was reading about…something…"

"It's okay, chum. You're tired," he knelt before him. "C'mon, it's bedtime. I'll tuck you in, huh?"

"No, I'm not…I'm fine, Bruce, let me keep going?"

He shook his head. "Sorry. I'd be tempted, but you've got plans tomorrow afternoon that I want you to be well-rested for."

The boy blinked at him curiously. "…What plans? I was gonna come down and keep working. Unless…" He was suddenly wide awake. "…Did you find a cure and not tell me yet? Is that it?"

"No," he winced. Sorry, Dicky. "But tomorrow you're touring R&D with Lucius and I."

"But tomorrow's Wednesday. It was scheduled for Friday."

"It was re-scheduled for tomorrow. So," he stood up, "you need to go to bed."

Dick glanced at the shut computer. "…Ten more minutes?"

"No. It'll all still be here in the morning. Maybe if you're lucky Alfred will let you come down after breakfast."

"…Okay," he heaved a sigh and obeyed, following him upstairs. "…Bruce?" he asked as the covers were pulled up to his chin.

"Hmm?"

"I'm excited for R&D, but…I'd kind of rather keep working. Are you sure you can't move it back to Friday? I'm not trying to make it inconvenient, I just…I just want to get you fixed, that's all."

"I know, chum. I appreciate it. But I can't move it back. It's set in stone now." Alfred wouldn't give Sawyer a chance to kill me if I tried at this point. He patted a lump under the blanket that he knew to be an arm. "You're going to have a great time, you'll see. It'll be a nice break."

"…Okay," he repeated his earlier exhalation. Giving the man a sad little smile, he wished him goodnight and rolled over.

It wasn't my idea, Bruce thought as he sat on the edge of the mattress and listened to his son's breathing ease out into sleep. But I'm glad Alfred forced me into it. He's right; you need a distraction, if only for a little while. So long as your night terrors don't come back as a result, it'll be good for you. "Sweet dreams, kiddo," he whispered fervently, then slipped from the room.

At three o'clock the next afternoon, Dick found himself waiting in the lobby of the executive suite, kicking his feet idly in his chair as he reviewed everything he'd read between breakfast and lunch. It's all no good, he pouted to himself. Nothing I've found is helpful. We're running out of options, I know we are, even if Bruce keeps insisting that there are still lots of things to check…I think he's just going through the motions now. There wasn't even a way for Batman to try and sneak in to talk to Sawbones again, he knew; his mentor had spoken with Commissioner Gordon very late last night, and been informed that not only had Woodward finally left with the chemist and all of the guards in tow, but that the coroner had come back with autopsy results on the dead men that showed simple cardiac arrests, with no other anomalies to speak of. While that in and of itself was suspicious given what else was known about the case, Batman wasn't going to tip his hand, already half-known as it was, by suggesting that the corpses be given an MRI. All of our police leads have dried up, and we don't have anything else. He sighed audibly, making Cynthia look up from her desk.

"They'll be done soon, sweetheart."

"…Thanks," he gave her a weak smile. Cynthia was nice, but there was no way she had any idea what kinds of issues were plaguing him at the moment. The delay to the tour would have been at the very bottom of the list where it not for the fact that the longer he waited here the later it would be before he got back to research.

He was about to let loose another loud breath of air when the door to the office opened, letting Bruce and Lucius out. Both smiled when they saw him, his guardian's expression carrying a masked concern that only Dick noticed. He knows I was sitting here thinking about it. But what else am I supposed to do? "Hi."

"Hello, Dick," Lucius greeted. "Are you ready for your tour? There are some things downstairs I think you're going to like."

"Sure," he nodded as eagerly as he could. To his surprise, it wasn't as difficult as he'd thought it might be to pretend like he didn't want to be somewhere else, and as the elevator descended he felt his pre-Sawbones passion for this moment flare. "…What kind of stuff are we going to see?" he asked, unable to help but want a teaser.

"Well, I think you'll find that the best thing going on currently is the upper-atmosphere jet."

"…Are you building it for faster flights, or for space tourism?" he queried, falling into the topic immediately as they exited the lift and walked a short distance down the hall. Behind him, Bruce smirked slightly. Trust him to be interested in anything having to do with flying, he thought. At least he seems to be distracted from Sawyer.

Lucius was grinning broadly. I knew the plane would get him. It gets everybody. "Good question. Right now it's being developed for some, ah, top secret purposes," he winked, "but my understanding is that it will be easily adaptable for uses in space tourism once that becomes a bit more established of a market. This," he extended his arm towards a younger woman who was approaching them at a quick pace, "is the person to ask all about that particular contract. Dick, this is Jeannette Loussac, aerospace engineer and head of Cloudcutter. Dr. Loussac, meet Dick Grayson, child prodigy."

"…Hi," he blushed, taking her hand when she offered it. "I'm not really a child prodigy," he informed her quickly. "I just think the stuff you do down here is really cool."

"Well, it is really cool," she agreed, "but from what I've heard about you, 'child prodigy' is pretty apropros. I went to Gotham Academy back when it first opened, so I can tell you from experience that they don't let people in just because of how much money their dad happens to have. If you got in, and especially if you got in early, you earned it."

"…Thanks," he flushed even more deeply. "So…Cloudcutter?"

"That's what we call the plane," she explained, gesturing for him to walk beside her as they entered a large room that had clearly been turned into the project office. "It's still in development right now, but take a look at some of these," she led him to a hanging blueprint portfolio and began to flip pages.

"Whooooaa…is that the rebreather system?"

"Well, that's not quite what we call it, but yes," she answered delightedly. That was either an extremely lucky guess, or this kid really is a prodigy.

"…It's so strange to see it all…broken down like that."

"You think that's great, check this out," she turned to another sheet. "This is one of mine," she preened. "Wing schematics, with modifications for thin-air flight. This system will allow us to build the wings almost exactly like they're designed for regular jets, then add a few little tricks of our own to make them more efficient way up high. It cuts down on manufacturing costs hugely."

"So you can sell them cheaper, and undercut the market?"

"That's what I've been told is the goal." She paused, noticing that he was peering not at the drawing demonstrating air flow but rather at the bottom corner of the page. "…Dick?"

"Sorry," he pulled away. "I was just looking at your calculations. I've never worked with ones like that before, but…I like math," he shrugged, looking at the floor.

"Good. You should like math. Numbers are beautiful." She smiled reassuringly when his head swiveled up to her, recognizing the look she herself had worn at so many moments in her life. Oh, yeah, you've been catching hell for that from somebody, haven't you, cutey pie? Poor thing. I remember how that feels. "…That's kind of the motto at G.A.," she informed him gently. "You know…just in case you were worried. If you like numbers, you should definitely get into the math club. It's great."

"Were you in it?"

"Mm-hmm. I thought I knew a lot about math before…some of the things I learned in that group, though, just blew my mind." He flinched a little at her last few words, and she felt a moment of panic. I'm sorry, I hope that didn't bring up bad memories…I thought your family was killed differently, and that it was Mr. Wayne's parents who were…but I guess you still probably have to live with that specter. "Anyway, you meet some amazing people. Other math nerds," she laughed, hoping to smooth the situation.

Brainsplosion, he couldn't help but think. He swallowed hard. I should be in the cave, working…But Bruce and Lucius went to a lot of trouble to set this up. And Dr. Loussac is super nice, and this plane…this plane is freaking amazing. "Yeah," he laughed a little back. "…Can we look at some more stuff?"

"Of course!" she exclaimed, relieved at his quick recovery. "Here, take a look at this. We gave a tour this morning to some of the men on the other end of the contract, so our samples are still out," she explained as she guided him to a nearby table. "This is a full model of what we think the finished product will look like, more or less."

"It looks like a regular airplane," he opined, craning to examine the belly of the miniature.

"That's the point. They want it to be able to blend in easily, but have capabilities beyond that of a standard jetliner. From the inside, you wouldn't even know you weren't in a commercial plane."

"I wouldn't know what that was like, anyway," he shrugged. "I mean, besides from movies and stuff."

"…You've never flown?" she asked incredulously.

"Not in an airplane, no," he answered. I wish I could ride in the Batplane, but there hasn't been a good reason to use it since I became Robin, and he won't take it out just for fun, he griped silently. It's probably got nothing on the trapeze, though, even if you are way higher, he comforted himself. What's the point if you can't feel the air moving around you?

The engineer sputtered. "Mr. Wayne, this is criminal!" she turned, spying him talking to Lucius on the other side of the room. "How can he never have been in an airplane before?"

Bruce looked surprised. "…Dick? Is that true?"

With three sets of adult eyes on him, he wished he'd never brought it up. "Well…yeah. I mean, the circus couldn't afford that."

"But wasn't Haly's in Europe until a couple of years ago? How did you all get back here?"

"We took a boat over. Apparently it's really expensive to airlift an elephant."

Well, now I know why you looked so defeated when I refused to take you for a spin in the Batplane, he thought miserably. I wish you'd told me, Dicky…Christ. "Well, I guess we're going to have to fix that soon, aren't we?"

"Really?!"

"Yeah. Dr. Loussac is right, kiddo, you should have at least a little flight experience." I should teach him to fly, he mused. Just in case…

"Awesome!" he beamed. "Thanks, Bruce!" Even if you can't feel the air, he decided, it's still flying. So it has to be awesome.

"Don't thank me yet," he warned. "Wait until we know you don't get airsick."

"Somehow I don't think that's going to be a problem," he rose up and down on his toes a few times in his excitement. "I think I'll be way too excited." As he looked back at the table, his interest in the project piqued even higher now that he had an actual flight to look forward to, he spied a curved piece of glass with a strange tint to it. "Why is this green?" he frowned, picking it up.

"Oh, that," the engineer returned her attention to him. "Well, when you get up into the upper reaches of the atmosphere, where this plane is designed to fly, you start dealing with all sorts of different radiation. This is a special plexiglass just for the windows. It's designed to be able to withstand massive changes in pressure, and the green layer," she turned it so he could see where it was pressed between several coats of super-strong plastic polymer, "reflects all the nasty stuff we don't want getting through to the people inside the plane. There will actually be a thin coat of it applied to the fuselage, as well."

"So…all the radiation just…bounces off?"

"Well," she amended, "not all the radiation. This is designed to reflect specific types of radiation. We're not too worried about blocking the stuff that isn't likely to cause harm."

A wild idea was taking form in his head. It's so simple. How did we not see it before? How did Bruce not see it before? "This is for the government, right? This plane? I know it's top secret and all that, but…is it?"

Loussac glanced back at Bruce and Lucius, who were once again engaged in talk. "I didn't tell you this, but…yes."

"So…if it's like a spy plane, right? You don't have to answer that," he said quickly when her face grew more cautious, "but if it was, and they wanted you to block certain frequencies from being picked up by the radio the way this glass blocks certain radiation types…could you make something like that?" Without looking, he knew that Bruce's gaze had locked itself to the back of his head.

"Well, sure. Once we knew what particular frequencies they wanted blocked, there's no reason why we couldn't do that."

"And those frequencies…they wouldn't get through at all?"

"Well, it would tough to make something perfectly impermeable to any sort of wave, like a frequency or like radiation – even this technically lets a tiny bit through – but you could bounce off enough of it that the only thing you'd get is some light background noise."

"So it would be meaningless inside the shield?"

"Yes, it should be. So little of it would get through that any message, in the case of a radio frequency, for example, would be completely lost." She cocked her head. "Any reason why you ask?"

She's not Woodward, he calmed himself. She has no idea what's going on. Just play it cool. "Nope," he smiled. "I'm just interested in radios, and spy stuff. I don't know much about radios yet, though, so I thought I'd ask. Thanks for telling me."

"Dick?" his guardian's voice came up behind him. "I'm sorry, Dr. Loussac, I know you two could probably chat all day, but we've got an appointment to get to, and our ride is waiting." He knelt beside his son, a hand resting on his shoulder, fingers twitching slightly. "Time to go, chum. Thank Dr. Loussac for showing you around, huh?"

Oh, he knows I've got something, the boy thought smirkingly as their eyes met. Just you wait, Bruce, you're going to be so mad you didn't figure it out already. "Thanks a lot, Dr. Loussac," he gave her his best smile. "I had a really fun time. I'm super jealous, though."

"Jealous?" she grinned.

"Yeah. You get to work on awesome planes, and I'm stuck going to school."

"You keep going to school, and before you know it you'll be working right down here with her," Lucius pitched in.

"You bet," the engineer nodded. "Maybe you can talk the big boss here into letting you come by over the summer and give me a hand with a few things."

"…Bruce? Could I?"

"We'll talk about it. Probably," he tacked on quickly, seeing a pout start. "C'mon, we're going to be late. Dr. Loussac, I suppose I should thank you, but since I'm sure I'll hear about nothing but planes for the next week…"

"Any time, Mr. Wayne. Bring him back down here soon, would you? I'll babysit any day of the week," she laughed, only half joking.

"I'll keep that in mind. Lucius," he inclined his head towards the other man. "Friday morning?"

"Yes. I'll be in New York tomorrow for the Westinghouse meeting, so it won't be until Friday. Bye, Dick," he gave him a pleased smile as the CEO led his charge to the door. "Don't forget to pester him until he brings you back, okay?"

"I can manage that," the boy nodded enthusiastically.

"Really, Lucius?" the billionaire called over his shoulder as they disappeared into the hallway.

"Really, Bruce," he replied. Besides, you want him here as much as I do. You just won't admit to it.

In the elevator, Bruce let out a long breath. "Well?"

The grin that was turned up to him was so triumphant it almost hurt to look at. "I've so got it figured out."