Y'all don't know how happy I am to hear from each of you. Thank you so much to my reviewers—Lavender Gaia, ccabello, ldypebsaby, Catgirl R and S fan, Icha, NO name, Gmusick, Skite, klutzyspaz, and Super Chocolate Bear—I'm eternally grateful. You guys are awesome!

Also to those who added me to the LIST, cheers! XD

Enjoy!

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He ran into the colossal wooden doors, his tiny fingers fumbling with the iron doorknobs. He almost squealed with impatience when the doors seemed to prohibit him from crossing the threshold, as its heavy weight seemed to immobilize him.

He banged once. Twice. Too impatient to turn to the mild-mannered approach, he screeched, "Alfred!" His face was red with too much excitement and his voice intensified with bratty haste.

"Alfred!" he called for the fourth time.

At last, the unshakable doors for an eight-year-old opened, and Bruce darted past his concerned butler.

Before Alfred could question Bruce's bottled eagerness, Bruce hastily turned around and asked, "Where's Dad? And Mom? Where are they? Where are they?"

"In their room, Young Master. Why are you in such hurry?"

"No time, no time, Alfred. See you later." Bruce sprinted to the wide stairway, his adrenaline pumping wildly that pain in his thin legs escaped him. He was grinning, laughing. Yes, the most awaited show was to be presented later tonight. And he wanted to be the first to watch it. And what's better, if his mother and father agreed to go, he could sit in the first row! Oh, what joy!

He nearly tripped as he ran in the direction of his parents' bedroom. He was rarely excited about anything, rarely pleaded with his parents to buy him new toys or polished shoes. He wasn't a brat really. Just a boy who wanted to watch a play so badly that he felt like wetting his pants. It was perfectly normal to want something so desperately that if his parents said no, his heart would surely deflate into nothing than a dead rabbit.

He pushed the door open without knocking. "Mom! Dad—"

Blood rose to the air, the metallic, overwhelming stench suffocated him. He gagged mercilessly, his hands covering his wrinkled nose. What's happening?

"Mom! Dad! Where are you? Dad!" As much as his impulse wanted him to leave the appalling space, he couldn't leave without his parents, he couldn't abandon the bloody room without his family. He walked forward slowly, his love overpowering his fear and uncertainty. He warily scanned their bed. Blood painted the sheets, making him shut his eyes and call his parents once more.

No one answered him.

He called again. But the only sound he heard was the crunching noise underfoot as he baby-stepped to the huge closet door. He glanced down.

Pearls littered the floor. Like the ones his father gave to his mother earlier this morning. He started to panic. He screamed for them again. Still, the room was silent except for his ragged breathing.

"Mom!" Tears began to cascade down his sweaty cheeks. "Dad! Where are you?" He tentatively swung open the wardrobe's door. Thankfully blood hadn't stained the clothes. But before he could shut the door, a flash of red caught his eye. He looked closely at his mother's favorite white coat. It was spotted with blood. And so was his father's expensive suit—he always wore that when they went to the theatre.

He closed the door with a bang. Oh dear, what's going on? He wanted to cry, he wanted to crawl into a ball and weep his confused sorrow. Were they dead? Where were they? Who did this to them?

Angry determination propelled him to stride to the last unchecked section of the room—the bathroom. His legs were like rubber when he reached the door. He numbly turned the knob, his hand slippery with excessive sweat. He finally opened it… and the figure sprawled on the tiled floor forced him to wake up.

Bruce was shaking as he slipped out of bed, his shirt and boxer shorts soaked to the skin, and his hands were clammy and shaking vigorously. He tried to clasp them together but just moving made his trembling more uncontrollable. He shakily walked to the bathroom door, was almost hesitant, but he cursed himself and went straight to the sink.

Without looking in the mirror, he filled a glass with water and as he gulped down the last few drops, the memory of where the blood-spattered corpse lay made him shiver. He looked down at where he was standing—the same spot where the body laid motionless, dead.

Caring no less, he ran out of the bathroom, hugging his belly to prevent himself from vomiting on the floor. He shook his head, closed his eyes. He turned his attention to the curtained window on his left and walked towards it.

The image refused to flee from his mind. He wanted to bang his head on the fragile glass but he wasn't in the mood to pay extra work for re-installing a broken window or mending a wounded skull.

The sight of blood might just aggravate him even more. He sighed. Diana. Even when he thought he was alone in his head at night, she occupied his sleeping hours. Oh what the hell, the thought of Diana always found a sneaky way to catch him off-guard. And since their break-up, he had dreams of her. It was always about her kissing him, or calling him, or he asking for her hand in marriage. Pshaw!

But tonight was different. He closed his eyes tightly. This time, she laid dead and bloody in front of him, a bullet wound in her chest, and the gun… he vaguely remembered something hitting the floor before he jolted out of bed.

He stared at his hands. Could he have killed her in the dream? It was highly impossible since he was searching hard for his parents. It was a mystery. But not one he'd have to dwell on any longer. It was only a dream, not reality.

He let his hands fall to his sides as he sauntered out of his bedroom's door. But before he stepped out, he glanced at his bedside table. The electronic clock flashed green numbers at him—it was already four in the morning. He was more than awake now. In fact, he was aching for some night skulking in Gotham's precipitous skyscrapers or in dark alleys where most unjust crimes were done thoughtlessly.

He went down to the Batcave, but instead of donning his intimidating costume, he grabbed his phone and called Dick.

"Mmm… please… later… still dreaming," Dick slurred into his mouthpiece, the phone barely touching his ear.

"Snap out of it, Dick. How can you call yourself a valued superhero when you can't even wake up and answer the phone decently? You think people will wait for you after you're on the ball?"

"I'm just rude to you, Bruce. I know you will call at this hour. Besides, I don't plan on becoming a valued hero, your repute made me think twice." Dick sat up, rubbed sand off his eyes.

Bruce growled into the phone. "I suddenly regret taking you under my wing." He looked up from his chair and saw Alfred carrying a tray of wholesome breakfast. Bruce gave him a look, but Alfred ignored him.

"Since you had very little rest, I'm sure a nutritious breakfast would just pump the oomph into your strained veins as you start the day, Master Bruce." Alfred set the tray on a wheeled table next to Bruce. It was a wonder how Alfred could cook up a mouth-watering buffet of breakfast-goodness on a silver tray in a matter of minutes. Alfred most definitely deserved the Superbutler title.

"It's not really necessary, Alfred," Bruce muttered.

"Alfred, eh? How's our prim Englishman holding up to our austere instigator?" Dick shouted into the earpiece, made certain that Alfred heard him—even if Alfred caught only a few words. Bruce barked a harmless threat at Dick.

But despite how Dick could crawl under Bruce's skin, Bruce smiled ever so lightly, and Alfred's eye was as sharp as a hawk. "By the sound of your unusual girly tone, why don't you come over here and give your old butler a giddy kiss if you need to break free from the constraints of being a man."

"Oh… you are so incorrigible," Dick ended the connection.

When Bruce put away the phone, Alfred asked, "Will Master Dick pay us a visit, Sir?"

"Want to kiss him too?"

Alfred smirked. "You don't have to pretend that you don't care about that boy." The butler smiled. "I'll prepare Master Dick's French Toast then."

"You don't have to spoil him. He's not a kid anymore," Bruce said.

"Then why do I see fatherly concern whenever you hear explosive criminal activities or gang fights rampaging Bludhaven these days? You practically jump in your seat."

When Bruce ignored him by turning on the computer, Alfred added, "He loves you, too, Master Bruce. Don't ever forget that."

"I don't, Alfred. I never do."

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"I believe Bruce won't mind you admitting that the mansion has been a lonely island without me, Alfred." Dick took a huge bite out of his toast, butter melting in his deprived tongue. He sighed dramatically. "You could never eat anything this good back in Bludhaven. You're the best Alfred!"

"And you don't know how rewarding that makes me feel knowing that someone actually appreciates my culinary expertise," Alfred and Dick glanced at Bruce's direction naughtily. Bruce gave them a sour look, continued his reading the Gotham News.

"Typically severe, don't you think so?" Dick commented. He generously spread peanut butter on his sliced banana. Before he could pop the greasy delicacy into his mouth, Bruce put the newsletter down with a perfunctory slam, his lips in a disgusted line.

"Put that into your mouth, you might as well slush oil down your throat."

Dick set the banana on his plate, looked at it impassively. "Tastes better than oil anytime." Ignoring Bruce's warning, he munched it down.

Bruce leaned his temple on his fisted hand, let out a hopeless sigh. "You're more incorrigible than I am. If I find out that you eat this way in Bludhaven, I'm calling Barbara to baby-sit you like last time. No tricks." Bruce stiffly drank his coffee.

Dick blushed an incredibly hue of red. "Such a low blow, very low indeed that I have nothing better to say but tell you that this is the only time I pig myself out. I practically starve myself back in Bludhaven with all the cataclysms happening every niche I turn to. I've never really had a decent meal or napping hour these days. So excuse me now as I scoff down Alfred's very, very generous offer." Dick grabbed the plateful of eggs and shoved four, glossy concentric circles to his silverware.

Bruce ignored him. Alfred refilled Dick's coffee, tried to catch Dick's angry eye, but Dick continued munching his food with indignation evident in his tired face.

Alfred frowned at Bruce when he finally caught the billionaire's eye. Bruce rubbed his face wearily.

"I'm… sorry. It's lack of sleep, too. I haven't had the best nights either," Bruce confessed as he straightened up with his tea in his shaky hand. "I'll see you in the Batcave."

When Dick and Alfred were alone, Dick turned to the solicitous butler wonderingly. "He's been like this recently?" It wasn't hard to see Bruce's fidgety gestures lately. And if Dick recalled well, Bruce was never as rickety as now.

Alfred started to gather Bruce's barely greased plate. His winkles suddenly doubled in size that if Dick's head weren't fuzzier than usual just then, he would have believed that an advanced Shar-pei replaced Alfred's position.

"He's been talking in his sleep. And earlier this morning, I could have sworn I heard him calling for his… parents," Alfred had to put the delicate silverware down for a moment. He breathed in deeply before continuing, "Knowing better than to wake him up, I started to prepare food for him. Delving into the past through questions won't ease the pain of his nightmare I presume. I also didn't want to bring it up." Alfred lightly laid his gloved hand on his chest. "I miss them, too, you know."

"I can see that," Dick thumbed the tablecloth guiltily. "But that doesn't mean Bruce should bury his emotions every single time someone wants to be close to him. He's causing pain to everyone around him. Like… Diana." Dick gasped after saying that much. Her name came out on impulse, and he flushed awkwardly when Alfred stared at him.

Knowing that Dick refused to say anything further, Alfred composed himself. "I know. She came here the other night, but the outcome was devastating. Their accusatory bicker tore each other apart." Alfred finally garnered the strength to pick up the plates. "I hope that whatever you're about to tell Master Bruce is the decision you believe is right."

With that wise remark said, Alfred walked out of the dining room. He sighed, frustrated. Oh Donna… why have you burdened me so? He scoffed at himself. No, it was never Donna's fault. I blame Bruce!

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He treaded silently into the cave, his careful footsteps meant to surprise the diligent grump who was facing the computer with a glare that could break a mirror into shattering pieces literally… almost.

He peered into the gigantic screens over Bruce's shoulder. Greek Myths. Hippolyta and Feminism inside You. Olympia—Not a Paradise in a god's Perspective. Oh, the man was so good. But Dick was betting this research was pleated from intuitive speculation.

"You're right. This is extensive research… and unusual. Why so interested in Wonder Woman's origins all of a sudden?"

He nearly laughed out loud when Bruce jumped from his seat. Bruce glared at Dick menacingly. "Don't ever creep up behind me again unless you want your head snapped from your neck!"

"What can I say? I learned from the best," Dick winked at Bruce. Dick coolly approached the flashing screens. "You've always taught me that you despise mythological material… you never believed every word of it. And seeing this," Dick whistled an impressed tune. "This is a new sign that man has evolved from exploratory prejudice!"

"Man has evolved from exploratory prejudice, you dunce. I'm looking at different angles. Ever since meeting Diana and many superheroes from alien worlds, you can never rely on ordinary issues or evidence anymore. And don't play stupid with me, Dick. I know Donna told you. You don't have to dance around it."

Bruce sat back on his chair, his hands folded together in that pretentious manner. Dick hated that. Dick also hated the fact that Bruce was too thorough and brainy not to know that Dick was using his frivolous method to hopefully stray Bruce away from the topic. But like Bruce suggested, it was stupid and fruitless.

He thought of Donna, their friendship, their momentous triumph when they exploited evil as the Titans. But he could never neglect Bruce's care for him ever since his parents where murdered. He had to decide quickly before he became more suspicious to Bruce's judgment. Who must he protect or betray? Donna? Or Bruce?

Oh damn it all!

He looked at the screen. Then his gaze fell on Bruce's profile.

Decided, he said nonchalantly, "I dunno. We haven't talked much yesterday. In fact, I'm going up again to talk to her. She seemed oddly stiff when I asked about Diana. I never mentioned Diana's odd behavior that you've been claiming. But just the mere inquiry of Diana's wellbeing made her uneasy, which was very weird. She then snapped at me and stormed off. I never had the chance to ask her again."

Bruce was silent for more than a minute. Even if Dick didn't show his escalating anxiety, he was tormented inside. He hated lying to Bruce, his father. He absolutely felt disgusted, felt unworthy to be called a son after deceiving the man who raised him for what he was today.

"Very well. I practically don't own the situation now that I hold you responsible for asking about Diana's condition," Bruce plucked the Justice League communicating device out of his ear and handed it to Dick. "Here, call Mr. Terrific. Tell him to beam you up after you're suited up. I'm punching in the Retrotower today anyway. I'll just drive there."

Bruce then switched off his screen and got up to leave. "I know it's hard for you to seemingly betray a friend, but sometimes there are reasons why we have to. I'm not going to pressure you though when you discover the truth behind Dr. Jekyll's transformation into Hyde." Bruce started climbing the steep steps. "But do bear in mind that Dr. Jekyll was forever haunted by Hyde's maddening repercussions."

Bruce reached the top stair but Dick blurted out, "Damn you and your reverse psychology!"

Bruce turned around. "Did it work?"

Dick crashed on the chair despairingly. "Like a rat snared into an easy trap."

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"Mmm… Wally," Fire purred into Wally's crimson ear. "How can you leave a girl hanging just like that?"

Wally was just about to direct her to his front door when Fire stood her ground and looked at him with her batting eyelashes, her expression slightly wounded and disappointed. They just finished dinner together and were already quite drowsy from watching one of those romantic classics on TV.

Wally looked at her, puzzled, "I thought dinner was scrumptious? I used Granny Flash's secret recipes…"

"Oh, it was just wonderful! It was delicious, but… there's something else," she pulled him to the bedroom's route.

When they were in the room, she suddenly kissed him, her warm hands kneading his rigid chest. He tried to speak up, wanting to explain to her that he'd rather wait after marriage, but Fire pushed a finger to his jittery lips.

"Shh… it's better that you don't say anything at all." She pushed him back, the bed barely creaking with complaint as their weights collided with the soft comforter. He tried to get up. He took a fleeting glance at his door.

It was funny really. As he glanced at his door thoughtfully, his mind was plotting restlessly, telling him that he should bent on running away from his own apartment. He didn't even have the slightest clue why he wanted to flee from a hot babe who definitely had the hots for him. And it was Fire no less.

What was wrong with him? Was it because Granny Flash strictly instilled in his upbringing that premarital sex was like castrating his own testicles? Oh dude! Stupid, stupid allegory!

But seriously, he liked Fire. She was caring, sexy, sensuous, bold, and justified. Why couldn't he at least give her what she wanted? Besides, it's not like he was treading past killer zone by sleeping with a woman. And didn't Granny Flash say something like an opportunity was similar to a Jack-in-a-box? Once it pops out, you gotta grab at it and welcome its surprising hello. You can't immediately push it back, but embrace the element of surprise it has jumped into a moment of your life.

Or did she relate it to a jack rabbit? Oh what the hell, how can he refuse a chance as big and passionate as this?

Surprisingly even for himself, he returned her caresses by rolling over her, his hands feeling for warm flesh as their lips searched hungrily for the other, her fingernails occasionally grazing his arm… but it brought such satisfying pain. He was about to strip her blouse off when she stopped, her eyes widened in genuine shock.

"Oh… no… please… no…" she looked down but before Wally could see what she was concentrated on, she pushed him and asked where the bathroom was.

Wally landed on the floor, so he wasn't able to hear the question. He rubbed his shoulder as pain crept down his shoulder blades. He then sat up, purple dots dancing in front of him, nevertheless he tried to focus his puzzled attention on Fire.

"Oh what the hell, I'll look for it myself!" She whisked out of the room, Wally wonderingly watching her barely clothed figure.

He stood up, stretched his back, felt astonished that Fire could throw him off the bed with such mind-blowing force. He laughed inwardly. He was about to run after Fire if she needed any help with whatever she was panicking about, but the phone rang.

After three rings, he answered his mobile phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's Linda. Hope I'm not interrupting anything, my Crimson hero," Linda's melodic tone prompted him to grin. He could slightly detect sweet shyness in her greeting, but he loved that about her.

"Linda! How are you? Oh, you're Crimson hero is fine, in fact I'm battling against gravity's retaliation just now," he smiled. It was nice to hear from her excited, fluty voice.

"That sounds exciting," After a brief pause, she continued, "Mmm… I was wondering… if you're not busy this Saturday—"

"Wally?"

Wally jumped at Fire's unsuspecting entrance. He turned and mouthed to her to wait just a sec.

"Hey, okay, that's fine. I have to go, we'll talk about it later. Yeah, good night. Bye," Wally closed the phone and threw it on the bed, his face now turned anxiously to Fire.

"I have to go," Fire interrupted their awkward silence. She ignored his red, gawky stance. She'd certainly have to ask him about that call some other time. But now…

"Why? What's wrong? Are you ok? Did I do something? I'm sorry…"

"No, no, no. It's not you. It's me," Fire's cheeks were reddening as she pulled on her clothes.

When Wally started to bombard her with more nippy questions and apologies, she blurted out, "It's a woman's emergency!"

Wally stared at her flushed expression, his own face the same color as hers the instant her reply dawned on him clearly.

"Oh…"

"I have to go now," Fire pecked him on the cheek as he still gawked at her uneasily. She briskly walked out of the apartment's door before he had the chance to stop her.

"Ah… that was discomfiting."

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To be continued…

You like? No like? Why? Please review! XD

Author's Note: Out of curiosity, what do you guys think of Donna and Nightwing as a pair? I'm not really implying or planning to write about them as a couple (not yet maybe), but hey, what do you think?