A/N: No, spring break didn't come early…but I had little to do in class and a well-defined vision of what this chapter needed to be. Oh, I have seen Themed Response, it's what started me writing Tim and Cass in the first place. And no, this chapter is not entirely Tim, but Alfred has valuable insights to offer. :) SPRING BREAK HAS STARTED!

P.S. Sorry about the line breaks. I had them in here, but they keep taking them out, hence the long, ugly line breaks we have now. Sorry.

Chapter 7: Holding On, Holding Tight

I put Cass down on the couch in her house, and pull off her mask. Tears are still leaking out of the corners of her eyes, and she curls up into a little ball, shaking. I've only seen her cry once before.

I can't think about that now. I step into her bedroom, and grab her bedspread off the unmade bed. It's bright pink, not a color I normally associate with Cass.

I bring it back into her living room and wrap her up in it. I double-check that all the curtains are closed before I come back to her. That was a very Bruce-like thing to do.

Cass is still crying. I've never been good with crying girls, but there's nothing I can do but make her comfortable until the gas wears off.

That's not true.

"Cass? Cassandra," I say, trying to get her attention. "I'm going downstairs for a second, okay?"

She doesn't see me or hear me, and she's definitely not enough in reality for me to leave her up here alone. I pick her up, cradling her in my arms again. I can't get over how light she is. For someone with as much power as she has, she weighs next to nothing.

I lay her down again on the cot in her cave, and brush the tears from her face, keeping an eye on her. I need backup, and not the kind Bruce can give.

"Master Timothy!" Alfred says, appearing on Cass' screen, his feather duster in hand. "I didn't expect you to be calling from Miss Cassandra's cave."

"Can you come up to Blüdhaven?" I ask. "We've had a run-in with Scarecrow and Cass got the full effect of the fear gas."

I see Alfred's frown cross his face. "I will be there as soon as I can. Have you informed Master Bruce of the situation?"

I shake my head. "Not yet, no." I kind of hope I don't have to. Please, Alfred, volunteer to do that for me, please.

"I'll see to it," Alfred says. "Keep watch over Miss Cassandra until I arrive."

"I will," I say, and Alfred signs off.

I must admit when Master Timothy called, I was quite surprised. No one should have been able to sneak up on Miss Cassandra, certainly not the Scarecrow whom Master Bruce has described as less than stealthy.

Master Timothy looked distressed enough that I saved him the duty of informing Master Bruce. I wonder how this is affecting him as well.

"Batman, come in please," I say.

I wait a moment before I hear the Batman's growl and I wonder again at my failure to Master Bruce that he felt compelled to take this mantle upon himself. "Go ahead."

"I am leaving for Blüdhaven. Batgirl has had an encounter with Scarecrow. Robin has called and requested my assistance."

Another silence. "I will handle Scarecrow. Look after Batgirl—and Robin. Call me later." I hear a click, leaving me in the silence of the cave.

The drive to Blüdhaven has been one I have made many a time since Master Dick relocated there, but I believe I have rarely been as reckless regarding speed as I am this night. Master Bruce, Master Dick and Master Timothy, I all consider to be my sons to some extent. But Miss Cassandra is like my daughter, and I have been told there exists a bond between fathers and daughters. If so, it might explain my haste this night.

I arrive at Miss Cassandra's and make my way downstairs, stopping as I enter her domain.

Master Timothy is sitting on the cot, holding Miss Cassandra to him, whispering comfort. Her head rests against his chest and tears are coming from her eyes. Master Timothy has his own eyes closed, and I see a tear escape from his eye as well as he, perhaps unconsciously, presses his lips to her forehead.

I step forward, making my presence heard, and Master Timothy looks up. He carefully stands, gently laying Miss Cassandra back down and seeing that she is settled before coming over to me. "I'm glad you're here. Thanks."

The dark circles under his eyes concern me greatly. "It is of no consequence, Master Timothy. How is Miss Cassandra?"

He rubs his eyes. "Still crying. She's not talking. Not even a sound."

"She may have reverted to her former lack of language skills," I tell him. "A defense mechanism to help her cope."

He looks over his shoulder at her, wrapped up in that hideous pink blanket she adores, rubbing his face again. "Yeah, I guess."

"Perhaps you should get some sleep," I suggest. He shakes his head.

"There's no way I could sleep after this," Master Timothy answers. He looks back at me. "Did you talk to Bruce?"

"I did. He intends to handle Scarecrow himself."

Master Timothy sits down in the chair before Miss Cassandra's console. "I almost could feel sorry for Scarecrow. Suppose he'll come over here?"

"I'd imagine so," I say, moving over to Miss Cassandra. Her tears have ceased, but she remains lying there with a terrified expression on her face, one of sorry and horror and I damn Scarecrow with ever fibre of my being for doing this to her. Her breathing appears to have normalized. I turn back around and see that Master Timothy has leaned over, holding his head in his hands. "Master Timothy?"

He looks up, and I am nearly as alarmed over the look in his eyes as I am over Miss Cassandra. "I didn't have my comm. It's broken. I could have warned her." He rises, his face stony. "This is my fault."

He is dangerously close to what Master Bruce becomes some days. "And I suppose Scarecrow holds no responsibility in this matter?"

I see the bit of Master Bruce's brooding leave in the smile that crosses his face. "You're right, as always, Alfred."

"I'm please that you recognize that fact, Master Timothy," I say. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go and prepare some sustenance since you seem determined to stay up the night."

When I come back down, I notice Master Timothy is sitting on the cot, his back up against the wall, holding Miss Cassandra, and both of them are sound asleep.

Setting down my tray, I take a sandwich for myself and wait for day.

I hear Alfred moving around and a low rumble that sounds like Bruce's voice. Alfred's gentle tenor answers back.

I should open my eyes. But there's a warm comforting weight snuggled up against me, and I really don't feel like moving.

I open my eyes anyway, to find my vision obscured by a mass of dark hair. Cassandra's curled up against me, and she's asleep. I brush her hair aside, carefully sitting up so I don't disturb her.

"You're awake," Bruce's gravelly voice says, and I can tell he hasn't slept.

"What time is it?" I ask quietly, trying to keep my voice down.

"Nearly eleven. I called your school and told them that you were sick," Bruce says.

"Sounds good," I say. I have chemistry homework that was due, but now I'll have plenty of time to do it.

I hear a soft noise behind me, and Cass rolls over. Her eyes open and she blinks a few times. "Morning," I say, trying to smile. "You feeling better?"

She flies out of the bed, and I find myself suddenly wrapped up in a huge hug. She gives a choked sounding sob.

"Hey, it's okay," I say. "Cass?"

She brushes what I hope is the last tear she sheds over this away. "Sorry." Her eyes fall on Bruce and Alfred, and they find themselves with armfuls of Cassandra too.

"Well," Alfred says, with barely a hitch in his voice. "Who is ready for breakfast?"