A/N: well, to say this took longer than expected is an understatement. real life took me away from it for a while, but this story is far from abandoned! thank you to everyone who's stuck around for this long and for all your kind reviews/messages.

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Chapter 3

Dinner was spent in the same palpable tension that Bruce and Dick had last shared in the cave, though Dick was doing his utmost to ignore it. He made several comments about how good the beef stew Alfred had prepared was, finding any opportunity to engage with the butler as opposed to his adoptive father.

In the thirty minutes it had taken Bruce to put away the sparring mats, shower, and change, he had come up with a plan of action to try and mend the gap he had just widened. They had had a real connection in the cave, and if he hadn't been so careless as to presume the nature of Dick's predicament, it might have lasted.

Evidently, said predicament was something for which the boy felt guilty for, or something he felt Bruce would punish him over. He couldn't think of anything short of breaking their Rule that would warrant this level of self-flagellation, especially if it was something that had left the boy so worn out.

Bruce's worry had only grown by the time Dick removed his napkin from his lap, clearing his throat before rising.

"Well, Alfred, thanks again for the meal. Was really starting to miss food that hasn't been heated up in a microwave," he leaned over to clear away his plates, but not before Alfred swooped in to take them off his hands.

"Ah yes, a reassuring admission to hear right before your departure." Bruce's head perked up at that, quickly meeting Dick's fretful eyes from across the table: he had been caught.

"You're leaving tonight?"

"Uh, yeah," he rubbed the back of his neck, a wary smile crossing his face before he turned to Alfred, looking a little helpless.

The butler responded in mock innocence "Oh, was I not to tell Master Bruce of your departure?"

"No, no, of course not, I—I was just gonna tell you after dinner," he turned to Bruce, palms open in a show of surrender. "Er, now," he amended.

Bruce pushed aside his own plate and rose, swiping his mouth with his napkin before locking eyes with Dick once again.

"Dick," he began, cautiously approaching. "Before you take you're leave, I wanted to ask if you wouldn't join me for patrol tomorrow night. Tim will be back and I know he'd regret to have missed you."

The slight twinge in Nightwing's expression only confirmed what Bruce already knew; it was playing dirty, but he wasn't above leveraging the younger boy against Dick at this point.

"Bruce…" Dick looked him in the eyes now, his own all clear blue and regret. "You know I'd love to see Tim, but there are some things I gotta wrap up in the 'haven. Been putting it off for too long."

"Three days too long, I assume?"

A soft laugh "Yeah."

Bruce pursed his lips and gave an understanding nod, taking a step back and allowing Dick the room to take his leave.

Before walking past however, Dick offered one last truce.

"If you really need the help, I'll be in touch. Tell Tim I'm sorry I missed 'im."

Ending with a quick nod of his own, Dick headed towards the main staircase to presumably collect his belongings and depart. As Alfred continued to silently clear the table, he allowed a chastising glance to slither Bruce's way. Pointedly choosing to ignore it, he quietly took to his study to once again think over where he and Dick now stood.

Fortunately, the indication of being in touch meant Nightwing's batcom would be open once again. Over the years of distance and time split between teams and locations, Nightwing didn't always operate with a direct line to all the bats readily open. If there were plans in motion, sure, but when handling his own business in Bludhaven, he typically kept to himself if there weren't a need for direct involvement from his family. It was never an issue regardless, seeing as Batman could always contact him through other means, but the gesture was there.

And by extension, a renewed hope for Bruce to figure out just what was ailing his son.

—

"Still can't believe Nightwing was here for a whole three days, and I missed him," Robin huffed out, partially from the frustration of missing a chance to see his brother and partially from the exertion of removing his boots.

Their patrol had been a long one, clocking in just shy of four am. It only took the initial twenty minutes of his sulking over Dick's failure to even message him before Batman had his highly-capable Robin working alongside him. Tim had been restless from his long weekend spent cooped-up indoors and was eager to get back out into the field (and to vent some other familial frustrations, Bruce suspected).

Bruce was a little eager himself to oblige the boy's need to vent, the focus on crime-fighting welcomed after his own rumination over Dick's mysterious troubles.

"Is there something big going on in the 'haven?" Tim suddenly asked, his mask freshly removed.

"Not to my knowledge," Bruce supplied after removing his own cowl. After a moment, he added "Nightwing is more than capable of looking after his city."

"Hm. I'm just wondering because Alfred mentioned Dick was…out of it."

Bruce now turned to face him, but Tim merely glanced up from his activities in return. He appeared nonchalant and casual carrying on in his undressing, but his calculated worry was evident to anyone who knew the boy.

"Alfred…is correct. But I have trust in Nightwing to know his limits." At this, Tim actually let out a snort.

"Bruce, we both know he's right behind you in needless self-destruction."

Bruce did indeed know this. However, he also knew that no matter how well-intentioned Tim's probe into the matter was, this was something Dick had definitely wanted to keep from his younger brother.

Bruce simply raised a wry eyebrow in response before turning back to his own undressing.

"Even so, he's more than earned our ability to respect his."

Only then did Robin seem to drop it, understanding that he would get nowhere with questioning Batman. Bruce was sure Tim had alternative tactics to getting answers already lined up in his head, but there was only so much the Batman could do to deter the boy from an apparent secret that he himself did not know.

When Robin finally took his leave, their next patrol set in two day's time, Bruce remained in the cave. Pulling up his own tabs on activity in Bludhaven, he began to sift through the data log.

Though he had learned (the hard way, might he add) to do his best in allowing Nightwing the autonomy to handle Bludhaven without involvement, Batman still monitored the basic activity that could have any relation to going-ons in Gotham. And if he monitored a bit beyond that, it was only as a safety measure for occasions such as this.

Even so, the past couple of months showed nothing abnormal from what Nightwing normally dealt with. Hardly anything outside of what wasn't already reported directly to him; just a general input on petty crime, gang activity and drug pedaling. In fact, the latter issue had been the most recent incident of note, having been the last major case Nightwing was involved in only a week prior.

He didn't need to check the logs to recall Nightwing reporting in that his tracking and break-down of this particular drug circle had been handled without issue over the course of three months and finally wrapped up a few days before his call.

It didn't make sense for this to be the source of such a dramatic shift in his ward. Throughout those three months, there had been no incidents of note, no prior moments of behavioral shifts. All signs, and even admission from Dick himself, had pointed to his issue being a personal one; perhaps even more so than Bruce had made the mistake of assuming.

Just as he was reading the clean-cut case file for the fifth time, Alfred had materialized beside his chair.

"So I take it you've made no further attempts to contact Master Richard?"

Feeling the jab for what it was, Bruce simply turned to face the butler. "Alfred, you know how he is when he's upset."

"Yes, I do. And that is exactly why I know something is terribly off for him to have behaved the way he did this past weekend," he tutted in response, positioning himself further into Bruce's line of sight.

Wearily, Bruce sighed. "I have no idea what could've happened. His last case was resolved cleanly and without incident."

"He told you this himself?"

"His reports match up directly with all BHPD files and contain nothing remarkable or out of the ordinary. No suspects linking back to Dick Grayson's civilian life."

"Well, Master Bruce, have you considered you don't know everyone in Master Richard's 'civilian life?'" Alfred countered coolly.

Meeting it head on, Bruce held his gaze. "Of course. But looking into these men, they're all small-time offenders, no major run-ins with BHPD, no suits or anyone from Gotham. They were the last stragglers on the edge of a bigger operation."

"Hm," the butler folded his hands behind his back, leaning forward before continuing "well with the lengths you are going to investigate everything surrounding this mystery, I would suggest going straight to the source one last time."

With that, he straightened out and silently fell back into his role of servitude, offering "Would you care for a cup of tea, Master Bruce?"

Bruce simply stared in response, and Alfred swiftly set out to retrieve the tea from the opposite lab desk.

In the few minutes between retrieval and serving, Bruce seemed to have deflated from his defensive stance, somberly admitting "He won't talk to me, Alfred."

With a look of sympathy, the older man replied "He will, Master Bruce. He needs someone right now, and evidently he's chosen you."

The aroma of the Earl Grey spread as light clinking sounds of spoon against glass filled the empty space between the two men. Once the room fell back into ambient silence, Alfred placed a gloved hand on his eldest ward's shoulder for one last reassurance.

"He may have doubted his choice this time, but you must not let him believe those doubts. Especially not by poking around behind his back."

Glancing up to meet the butler's eyes, Bruce gave a nod in silent appreciation, and he was once again alone with his thoughts.

He still could not understand what connection there could be between Nightwing's activities and the uneasiness he was broadcasting through all his behaviors. He was no fool to discount the possibility of the drug-busting case somehow being linked to this sudden change, being that it was the closest documented occurrence in Dick's life, but the evidence of a personal intimate relationship being the source was too strong to ignore.

Dick himself had even identified the issue as non-work related. But remembering both Alfred and Tim's comments as well as his own past experiences, Bruce knew better than to believe he was being entirely forth-coming.

Setting his tea down with a heavy sigh, Bruce pulled open a window and quickly set about drafting a message to Oracle. He was still willing to listen to Alfred's plea to approach Dick directly, but he allowed himself this slight exception, wanting to be as prepared as possible.

He couldn't risk having the boy shut him out any further when their relationship was just making its shaky climb back to where it used to be, and not when Dick himself seemed so shaken. Alfred was right, he needed someone, and that someone was meant to be him.

O,

Need an eye on Nightwing.

Tell me if anything's out of the ordinary.

- B

If anyone were to understand the intricacies of Dick's facade, it would be Barbara. Not only that, but she knew when and when not to use discretion in cases of intervention. In this instance, Bruce could admit that that stood as an advantage in dealing with both Dick's actions and his own.

Once the message was encrypted and sent off, he pushed back and stood, setting down his now empty cup. His mind was made up: he would allow a day or two for Dick to cool off before approaching him one last time. If his behavior took any more sudden turns before then, Bruce could trust in Barbara alerting him appropriately.

After one last look at the screen of case files looming over him, he hoped she wouldn't have to.