Bird in the Nest

by scesketch

Samantha Meyers, Alfred Pennyworth's grand niece, has been hired to work at Wayne Manor as a maid. Little does she realize that living in the same house as billionaire Bruce Wayne and his four sons will come with its own difficulties.

2. Chapter 1: Samantha

Updated! I wanted to get a more solid idea of what the Manor looks like. I would like to thank geckobot on Deviantart for unwittingly supplying the inspiration for my story's Wayne Manor layout! Look them up, they've got some cool stuff. Chapter 1 - Samantha

I arrived at Wayne Manor on the twenty-ninth of May.

It was only four days after the funeral, but I'm good at making quick decisions. Alfred got everything settled, and today, I would officially move in as Mr. Wayne's new maid.

I was expecting grandeur, of course. The expensive car was a shiny reminder of what I was walking into. But then we hit the driveway, and I realized I had no idea what real money looked like. The view out the front window took my breath away. I gasped. I had never physically gasped before. That's how awe-inspiring this place was.

Alfred drove the car around the back and down to the garage. There were upwards of ten other cars in there; I recognized several big-name brands. There was a staircase on one side, but Alfred steered me toward a small door just ahead of us.

And then he opened it. My jaw dropped, and for the second time in five minutes, I experienced physically a sensation I thought people only used in books as a literary device.

And this was only the kitchen.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor, Samantha," Uncle Alfred said.

"It's…" I sought for a word. "Huge."

Alfred chuckled. "Just wait until you see the five dining rooms."

"Five?!"

"One for formal occasions, one for family meals, two are just rooms repurposed into breakfast nooks, and one…" He pointed down a hallway that led out of the kitchen. "One used to be a sitting room, but I might have, er, borrowed it for my own private use when the Waynes are out."

"I didn't think people needed so many places to eat…"

Alfred put a hand on my back and led me inside. He helped me set my bags aside so I could continue gawking at the kitchen. There were cabinets lining every wall, an impressively long island down the middle, two stoves and a sink on either side, endless drawers and countertops, and enough floor space for a hoedown.

"Am I supposed to work here?"

Alfred smiled. "No; you're supposed to work there." He pointed to the left half of the kitchen. "I'll take the other side."

In my bewilderment, I almost missed the range of assorted food bowls lining the far wall. I gasped in delight.

"You didn't mention there were pets!"

Alfred made a face. "Oh. Yes, there are, indeed. Thankfully, they're not my responsibility."

"Do they have-"

A door on the other end of the room opened, revealing a stairwell and a man. He wasn't quite as dressed up as he was four days ago, but I recognized him just as easily.

"Ah, Alfred," said Bruce Wayne, making his way across the room. "And Samantha Meyers. I'm glad you decided to take my offer."

"I'm happy to be of help, to you and to my uncle." I shook his hand. "And please, call me Sam."

"Sam. I like it. Well, I'll let you get unpacked and settle in. Alfred will show you the ropes; you can have the room next to his."

He walked past us to the garage door but paused halfway through. "Oh, by the way. I've warned the boys there's a new face in Wayne Manor. I told them to be courteous, so… if they're not, let me know."

The door closed behind him with a snap. I turned to Alfred, now slightly worried. "Boys?"

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "Master Bruce's sons. You… did know they lived here, didn't you?"

"You mean… the Wayne boys? Are… here?"

"Don't worry, they're not nearly as awe-inspiring as the magazines would lead you to believe." Alfred grinned and tapped his nose. "Though I'd rather let them introduce themselves."

Alfred gave me an extensive tour of Wayne Manor. Extensive. As in, it was already time for dinner when we finished. The place is ginormous. I don't know how Alfred didn't get lost. At one point, I was on the verge of asking how they kept this place clean. Then I realized that that was why Alfred and I were here. Yippee.

As it happens, I didn't see a single Wayne kid. Not really a bad thing, for my first day. I didn't see a single pet, either. That was a bit sad.

Alfred made us a little dinner for two and we sat in his "borrowed" sitting room, talking and eating. With a satisfied smile, I sopped up the last of the balsamic vinaigrette with some leftover bread from the bruschetta and sat back.

"I don't know how you do it, Uncle," I sighed. "Is every meal like that?"

Alfred smiled. "Only the really special ones."

I looked down at my plate. "Alfred… just out of curiosity… why exactly did Mr. Wayne hire me? I mean, I didn't think he knew I existed."

"Well, of course he knew," Alfred said, reaching to take my hand. "I've told him about you many times; and, granted, he is a busy man, but… he remembers the important stuff. And you, my dear, are very important."

"He's just my boss, Alfred. I don't expect us to be close."

"Master Wayne is different. You'll see, you'll be like family in a week."

Family? No, that was taking it too far. My fingers strayed to the locket that hung around my neck, traced the familiar outline of a bird engraved into the silver - a meadowlark, the kind my dad would always make me stop and listen to. I knew the faces hidden inside like the back of my hand. I couldn't replace them, not this soon.

"Are you alright?"

I shook myself out of my thoughts. "I'm great."

"Were you thinking about them?"

I considered denying it. But before I had a chance to speak, something beeped, and Alfred let go of my hand. He pulled a phone from his pocket, gave it a quick glance, and tucked it away again.

"I have to go. I suggest you get some sleep." He got up with a grin. "Lots to do tomorrow."

I stood and gave him a peck on the cheek, then watched him run off. I cleaned up a little bit, just piling dishes in the sink. There would be plenty of time to wash them all tomorrow. Then I turned to the door.

I had no idea how to get to my room.

This would have to be something I got used to. Maybe I could draw myself a map. But for now, all I could do was wander. With a sigh, I walked out of the kitchen and into the unknown, hoping that somewhere in the endless maze of Wayne Manor, there was a bed with my name on it.

/

Alfred arrived in the Batcave just in time for the Batmobile to come screaming through the door. It skidded to a halt, and five people tumbled out.

"Did you get a match, Alfred?" Batman asked as he ran toward the computer.

"I'm afraid not, sir," Alfred said. "I was a bit occupied when you called."

"She'd better not become a problem."

"On the contrary; I hope I'll have more time to watch over your shenanigans now that she's here." Alfred turned to the computer and started clicking through the various messages he had missed during dinner. "So… three seemingly minor crimes, but all of them pulled off using…"

"A spoon," said Red Robin, his mouth perking up at the corners. "It's kind of impressive."

"It would take skill to master," Robin said. "I'll try it next time I raid your room, Drake."

"I dare you."

"We barely found any other evidence of a crime, besides the missing jewels," Nightwing said. "Whoever they are, they're good."

"And unlike most of the good criminals I've seen in this city," Batman added, "it seems he has no interest in fanning the flames of his ego. No riddles, clues, messages, or insignias."

"A villain without an ego the size of China?" Alfred frowned. "That's almost frightening."

"Not as frightening as his crimes," Red Hood said. He pressed a feedback button on the console, and a new window opened on the screen. "This is all he stole."

Three photos appeared. It was instantly obvious what their connection was.

"They're all rings," Batman said. "All of them size five, sterling silver, .7 carats with a single emerald, and all priced at about $300."

"Why would they steal something that particular?"

"Maybe they're proposing to someone?" Nightwing suggested.

"Or they need the gems for some sort of device," Red Robin said. "Maybe a light filter of some kind."

"Or it was just a dare," Batman said. "Kids do that sort of thing all the time. What scares me is, if this is a dare crime, and they're that good at it, what will their crimes be like when it's serious?"

"I don't know, sir," Alfred said, closing the window. "But I do know that it's getting late. If you're going to patrol tonight, you should pick a partner and let the others go to bed."

Batman was silent for a moment. "I'll patrol alone tonight. You four have all done your part this week. You deserve the rest."

"Uh huh," Nightwing said. "And then something will come up."

"Something big," Red Hood added. "And you'll end up in trouble…"

"And we'll all sleep right through it," Red Robin said. "Because yes, we're tired."

"But we're also your partners," Robin said. "So, I'm going with you, and the rest of these simpletons will take the night off and let the real Robin handle things."

The other three Robins started to protest, but Batman held up a hand.

"Fine. I'll take Damian. The rest of you, get some sleep. Besides…" Batman cracked a smile. "There's someone you'll have to meet in the morning."

"Who?" Red Robin asked.

"Not another one of your 'lady-friends,' please," Red Hood sighed. "I don't care if you're a billionaire, every time you bring home another dame, I have to hide in my room and pretend not to exist."

"No," Alfred said. "Actually, she's the new maid."

There was a beat of silence.

"We have a maid?" Nightwing asked.

"You hired an outsider?" Robin cried. "She could compromise our entire operation!"

"She won't be compromising anything," Alfred said. "And she's my grand-niece, so be nice. Now off with you."

"Don't forget to scan those fingerprints," Batman said. "I need to know who I'm looking for."

"It's 'whom,' sir, and I'll get on it straight away."

Batman and Robin returned to the Batmobile, while the others took off their masks and began to change into normal clothes.

"So, there's a new girl in the house?" Jason Todd said, setting his red hood aside. "I wonder how long it will be before Dickie-bird falls in love with her?"

"Ha-ha," Dick Grayson said, chucking his Nightwing suit at Jason's head. "I'm not going to fall in love with anyone, got it?"

"I should hope not," Alfred said. "She's seventeen, and as I'm her legal guardian now, I'll be keeping to a strict policy of no dating until age twenty-one."

"That's harsh, Alfred," Tim Drake reasoned, hanging up his wings. "Come on, eighteen. That's a little more realistic."

"Twenty-one, I'm not flexible on this."

Dick sighed. "Oh, well. Sorry, Jason, you still don't get a girlfriend."

"Ha-ha. Take your suit back, Lover Boy." Dick got a face full of Spandex.

"That's quite enough," Alfred scolded. "If you're finished, get upstairs and in bed."

"Yes, Mother," Jason said, then scurried away before Alfred could respond. Dick shook his head and smiled.

"Goodnight, Alfred."

"'Night Alfred," Tim echoed.

"Goodnight, boys," Alfred said, watching them as they left the cave. A grin twitched on his lips as he turned back to the computer. He studied the fingerprint matches the computer had found.

Odd. These fingerprints were… who was Ralph Daygreen? Eighty-three years old, hospitalized with eye cancer. Poor fellow. Definitely not the suspect. The thief was using stolen fingerprints.

This couldn't have been a dare.

/

When I woke up, I was completely disoriented. I had been dreaming of home. In my still sleepy brain, I should have been in a creaky twin-size bed with an old homemade quilt over me and a flat pillow under me. There should have been a white plaster ceiling overhead, and walls painted purple years ago, still waiting for a fresh coat.

Instead, I was in a king-size bed with a mattress made of dreams and marshmallow fluff. The pillows seemed cut from the same cloud. And there was a comforter so poofy, I thought I would drown in it. The bedding was all white, and the ceiling was, too; but the walls were a warm, red wine color, splashed with the soft yellow of a new day that peeked through heavy curtains. I was surrounded by brass-knobbed wood furniture, including a full-size wardrobe, a dresser, a bedside table topped with an alarm clock and a vase of fake flowers, a desk, and a chair upholstered in a scarlet that matched the walls.

I sat up slowly, savoring the softness and fluffiness of my new bed. I didn't want to let my homesickness go, but it left without saying good day, and not a note to remember it by. I gave up and just sat there, taking in the wine red, sunshine, dark wood scenery of what would now be my room.

Then I noticed the two doors.

I dragged myself from the downy embrace of my bed and rushed to door number one. It was a - very empty - walk-in closet. It was as big as my old room and had twice as many shelves and drawers.

The second door was a private bathroom. My own bathroom. It was also about the size of my old room, and had a jacuzzi, a stand-up shower, and two sinks - one for each of my hands, I guess. There were more fake flowers, and everything was cream-colored tile or white marble.

I sighed and sagged against the door frame. "I live here?"

"If you like it."

I turned to find Alfred poking his head through the hallway door. I smiled and gestured to my room at large. At very large.

"It's incredible. The closet is the size of a house on its own!"

"So, it's… suitable?"

I laughed. "Oh, yes. I suppose it's adequate. Of course, it's suitable!"

Alfred grinned. "If you think this is big, you should see Master Bruce's room. A family of five could live in there."

"Yeah, speaking of space…" I pointed to the closet. "Any idea how I'm going to fill this thing?"

"With your paycheck." Alfred nodded to my suitcases, which were dumped on the floor by the desk. "And whatever's in there, to start. Hurry up and get ready. You start work today."

He left. I gave the room one last bewildered look, then rushed to my bags.

Half an hour later, I came out refreshed and ready in my favorite shirt, my hair up, and my smile on. I opened my bedroom door and feasted my eyes upon the Manor in the morning. My room was one of many that lined a square walkway, which in turn overlooked the main hall below. Everything was carpeted in a deep red, with dark wood accents against beautiful white walls. To my left was a grand staircase that led both down and up-down to the hall, like something out of a princess movie, and up to the master suite, where I was told my new employer lived. And overhead, the ceiling rose a whole floor further, glazing the whole room with luscious sunlight from three walls of windows.

And I had to try to find the kitchen again. My smile dimmed as I stared over the banister, trying to remember the path. I really needed that map.

"Morning."

I jumped as a voice came from seemingly nowhere. Then I realized that Bruce Wayne was standing just down the walkway, watching me with an amused smile on his face. I could have kicked myself. Way to look stupid on the first day. Though… I could have sworn he wasn't there a minute ago…

"Need directions?" Mr. W- Master Bruce asked me.

I nodded sheepishly. "The kitchen. That's where my uncle will be."

Master Wayne… Mr. Bruce… uh, my boss walked up beside me. "Turns out, that's where I'm going, too. Mind if I walk with you?"

"No."

I did. It felt so awkward to go strolling around Wayne Manor next to Bruce Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, who turned out to be an intimidatingly big guy whose brawn showed through even his thick woolen sweater. How did this guy get so buff? Crunching numbers and pushing up stock market prices?

We made it to the kitchen way faster than if I had just wandered. I still didn't see anyone new along the way. That was fine. I didn't want to look helpless in front of complete strangers. At least… Master Bruce wasn't a stranger. We went back twenty-four hours.

Alfred was waiting at the door for me. He shared a knowing look with Master Bruce, which made me feel even more stupid.

"Good morning, Samantha," Alfred said. "I'm sorry I didn't wait for you, but I had to start breakfast."

"It's okay," I lied. "I can probably remember the route this time."

"I'll bring your food to the conservatory in a moment, Master Bruce," Alfred said. "Samantha, you can start on the dishes while I finish breakfast."

"Actually, I've got a meeting this morning," Master Bruce said, opening the fridge. "I just came to grab a bite and say goodbye."

"Don't touch the hard-boiled eggs, please. Those are for… the boys."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Master Bruce said, winking at me as he snuck what looked suspiciously like an egg into a paper lunch bag. "See you this afternoon, Alfred. Samantha." He waved and left.

I found myself smiling. Bruce Wayne, it turned out, was very charismatic for a businessman. I turned back to the dishes, and Alfred and I fell into a familiar pattern of work and silence.

I wasn't new to this kind of work; in fact, dishes were an old friend. I got my first job when I was sixteen, working at a diner in downtown Gotham. I'm very familiar with dishes, as well as being laughed at for blatant newness. But if I hadn't worked there, I might never have seen him.

The Batman.

I was working the late shift. It had to be about ten, ten-thirty at night. Suddenly, the burglar alarm across the street started going off, and when I looked out the window, I could see three guys in cheap ski masks breaking through a window. As I watched, however, they all turned around and froze stiff. Then a shadow fell between me and them. There was some movement, and then utter stillness. Out of the shop came a single person, and not one of the burglars. It was a tall man in a suit and cape, and his face was hidden by a black cowl. Glowing white eyes stared at me, and I stared back, in fear and fascination. I had heard about this guy, but never seen him before. No wonder bad guys went running when he showed up. He was… well, big. In build and in fame.

I stared down at the soapy water in the sink and couldn't help wondering if I would ever see the Bat again, now that I lived so far from the city. Maybe that was a good thing.

"Samantha."

I turned. Alfred was holding out a plate piled high with pancakes.

"Breakfast."

I smiled and left my work. Any excuse to forget the past.

/

I was working through the breakfast dishes when I heard the fridge door open. I turned, wondering who had come for a snack this time.

It was one of them.

He was one of those boys built like an athlete with the face of a model, with hair as dark as Master Bruce's. He was just as tall, too, and almost as well-built. And he wore a tight-fitting t-shirt, like he knew it. I knew his face all too well; those baby blue irises had been staring into my soul from the front pages of magazines for years.

Richard Grayson, the circus kid. Bruce Wayne's first.

He rummaged through the fridge for a moment, then paused, turned, and met my eyes.

"Oh." He straightened. "Are you the maid?"

I ducked my head. "Yes, sir."

"Whoa. You're American. I mean… you don't have an accent. Aren't you Alfred's niece?"

"I'm… not British."

"Gotcha. So where are you from?"

"I grew up around here."

The boy lounged over the fridge door and popped open a soda. "An original Gothamite. Cool. Hey, I'm Dick, by the way. Short for Richard."

"Samantha Meyers," I said.

He smiled, and I tried my best not to stare. "Welcome to Wayne Manor, Samantha. Or… what do you want me to call you?"

"Sam would be fine."

"Sam… I like that."

"What should I call you, sir? Is it… Dick Wayne, or—"

Dick laughed. "No, Grayson. Kind of glad I'm not a Wayne. They can be pretty intense."

I shook my head and turned back to my work. "Yeah, I get that. Um…" I bit my lip. "I mean, he's just… you know, my boss."

"What'd Bruce do?"

"Nothing," I said, flustered.

"Hey, you're fine," Dick assured me. "I tease Bruce all the time. I won't tell him anything, if you're that worried."

I blushed and stared down at the soapy water in the sink. "I… don't really know my way around yet. So, I had to walk all the way from my room to the kitchen with… Master Bruce looming over me."

Dick grinned in amusement. "You don't have to call him 'Master,' you know. That's just Alfred's thing."

"Oh." The blushing got worse.

"And don't worry about calling me 'sir.' Just Dick will be fine." He took a swig of his soda. "So, remind me again how you're related to Alfred?"

"I'm his grand-niece," I said. "His sister was my grandmother."

"And her daughter is your mom?"

"She's… yeah. Or… she was."

Dick's face transformed into that horrid look. "Oh. I'm sorry."

I shook my head vigorously. "Don't be. They're in a better place now."

"They?"

Oops. I bit my lip, terrified to keep speaking. The last thing I wanted was for the whole Wayne family to look at me like some lost puppy.

I glanced up and caught him wearing the most complicated face I had ever seen. It was sympathetic, yes, and full of compassion and understanding - all those things I had hated seeing in other people. But Dick was different. He looked sadder than most, as if he actually knew.

"You're one of us, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?" I knew exactly what he meant.

"One of the Wayne family orphans," Dick said with a trace of sarcasm. "We all are, in some ways."

I sighed and set aside the plate I had been staring at for the past five minutes. "I know. I've heard about your parents. Just stories. I'm really sorry."

"Me, too," Dick said.

The silence stretched on for thirty seconds, a minute, more. But it was far from uncomfortable. Then the kitchen clock ticked me back into reality. I tried to smile away the gloom.

"Well, this has been lovely, getting to know you, but I really need to finish these dishes."

"No problem." Dick's own smile bounced back like it had never been gone. He tipped back the soda can and sighed. "Well, nice to meet you, Sam! And… a fair warning? The other guys aren't nearly as nice as me."

I chuckled. "I'll remember that."

Dick danced out the door. As I finished my round of dishes, I couldn't stop thinking about him - Dick Grayson, the orphan with the spring in his step.

How long until I was as "fine" as he seemed?

/

That afternoon, I was washing windows on the first floor when I met my second Wayne. I had just lifted the rag to start a new pane when I felt eyes on the back of my head. I whirled around.

A kid, probably late grade school age, was sitting on the stairs, staring at me. I knew in an instant he was Mr. Wayne's son; he had the same eyes, the same nose, even the same chilling calm. This one didn't grace the magazine racks as frequently, but I thought I could recall a few notable headlines insinuating scandalous parentage.

And he was holding a cat. A pleasant looking black-and-white cat with piercing eyes. The boy was petting it like a cartoon villain. Not helping the image much.

"Hi," I ventured.

"You missed a spot. Two panes down, one to the right."

I blinked in indignation. "Sorry?"

"I said, you missed a spot. If you're going to work here, you have to hold some higher standards."

"Oh?" I tossed my rag back in the bucket and turned to face him, putting on my cheeriest smile. "I've already met Dick, so who are you?"

"You go first," the kid said, with an unbelievably superior look on his face.

I sighed. I really didn't want to humor him, but in this case, I was the maid, he the master. "Samantha Meyers. Your new… maid." I didn't know if I wanted this kid calling me the maid, but what else was I?

The kid eyed me like he was trying to decide if I was worth his time. "Damian Wayne."

Yes, I remembered now. "Damian Wayne: Mother Mystery, Solved?" That was the headline. He didn't look all that beat up about his parentage, but he definitely behaved like a motherless rich kid.

"I like your cat."

"This is Pennyworth." He didn't take his eyes off me. "I expect you to leave his things alone."

"I noticed you seem to have a dog, too."

"Titus. Again…"

"I know. Leave his things alone."

His eyes narrowed at my quick words. My heart sank into my shoes. Maybe I wasn't as welcome as Dick made me think. I shouldn't have said anything.

Damian stood. "I have a lot of homework to do. Stay away from my room."

He turned around and walked up the stairs. I stared after him, bewildered. Maybe Bruce was the master of the household, but this kid thought he owned the place.

Suddenly, a shiver prickled down the back of my neck. I whirled around, searching for the pair of eyes I knew were fixed on me. I caught a split-second glimpse of a figure down the hall. But just as quickly, the figure whisked out of sight.

My frown deepened. Was that the other one - Tim? Please tell me he wasn't avoiding me, too.

Then I shook my head and slogged my hands back into the bucket. What did I expect? I was working for celebrities. It was a miracle they had even noticed me.

/

I had finished washing windows and was on my way back to the kitchen when I passed the family room, which was packed with bookshelves, couches, tables, a grand piano, and a television screen as tall as me. Dick and Damian were playing a video game on the television, and I paused to watch. It was highly amusing; Damian was a much different person with Dick.

"Go left… no, left, idiot," Damian growled.

"Settle down, kiddo, I got this."

"Uh huh. Go left."

"I did!"

"The other left! There's two hallways!"

"And 'go left' was supposed to indicate which hallway it was?"

"You're useless. Give me the remote, I can double up."

"Hey, hands off!"

"Watch out for that…"

"I got it!"

"No, you haven't, Grayson!"

Dick threw up his hands. "Come on, Damian. You made me die!"

"If you weren't such an amateur, maybe it wouldn't have happened."

"Alright, second chance. I've got this one…"

Dick leaned back into the couch. Suddenly, the game vanished; the television screen turned bright blue, a "No Signal" icon bouncing around the screen.

Damian threw down his remote. "Now what did you do? We'll lose the level!"

"Settle down, drama queen." Dick got up and started tapping the screen. "Hello? Videogame? Come back, please!"

"Move aside," Damian said. He pushed Dick out of the way and started pressing buttons on his game controls. Nothing happened. "You broke it!"

I set down my cleaning supplies and snuck into the room. As I peeked over the back of the couch, I realized what had happened. There, wedged between the cushions, was the TV remote. Dick must have sat on it and accidentally hit one of the buttons.

"Um… excuse me?" I said, pulling the remote from the couch.

Dick glanced up. "Oh! Samantha, hi. What's up?"

"I found this in the couch. You must have sat on it and changed the channel."

Damian tutted before Dick could reply. "Alright, smarty-pants. Which channel?"

Well, if it was anything like my TV back home…

"HDMI 2."

I blinked. A second voice had joined my own. Another boy had appeared at my shoulder. He fit right in with the rest, with dark hair and a well-defined muscular structure. Were the Waynes champion athletes or something? He held out his hand and I gave him the remote. With the click of a button, the screen turned back to the game just in time for both Dick's and Damian's avatars to blink red and die. Both boys groaned as a big "Game Over" sign appeared.

The new boy winked at me. "They'd never catch up, anyway. I beat the game two months ago."

I chuckled as he walked away. This one reminded me more of Dick. My mind was working fast, trying to place him in the lineup of cover model faces, but it wasn't ringing many bells. I had to catch him and get his name before he vanished.

"Hey!" I swung out into the hall, nearly tripping over my cleaning supplies. "Wait!"

The new boy paused. "Right. I never said my name, did I?" He held out his hand. "I'm Tim. Tim Drake."

I shook. "Sam."

I remembered him now. He had been named Bruce Wayne's heir, and legal son, a couple years ago. He was also one of those whiz kids that graduates college at sixteen and goes on to redefine science. And, if I recalled correctly, he was my age. Not intimidating at all.

We stood in silence for one awkward beat. I quickly looked back at my cleaning supplies, grateful for an excuse to leave.

"I have to get this stuff back to the kitchen," I said.

"Yeah, I should go, too. See you around, Sam."

I smiled as he trotted away. After my interaction with Damian, talking with Tim felt like a breath of fresh air. Clearly this was one boy that fame and fortune had not gotten the better of.

The only problem was, if that was Tim, he clearly wasn't trying to avoid me. So, who had I seen earlier?

/

I learned pretty quickly that dinner in Wayne Manor was nothing like dinner at the Meyers house. Mom and Dad and I would always sit and eat together, talk about the day, and just relax in one another's company.

Here, it seemed nobody had any ideas of a community dinner. One by one, they burst into the kitchen, got a plate from Alfred, and ran out again, mumbling excuses of homework or other equally important pursuits. I watched my uncle's face; with each boy that came and went in relative silence, he got sadder and sadder. But it was a resigned sadness, as if he was quite used to dining alone, with the rest of the household scattered to the far corners of the manor.

When we sat down together, however, his face took on a new look; he seemed happier, lighter, and a lot more relaxed.

"I never realized how much I've missed having a proper sit-down dinner with my family," he said. "When Bruce's parents were alive, his mother insisted upon an hour set aside for the Wayne family to dine together."

I smiled at him. "Well, from now on, you and I eat together every night. Maybe we can even get the Waynes to join. There's five dining rooms in this place; surely one is big enough for six."

"Seven, with you," Alfred said absently.

"What?"

He blinked and seemed to come back to himself. "Oh… no, you're right, six." He chuckled. "Well, I know for a fact the main dining hall is too big. It's meant to seat twenty at least."

"Mr. Wayne throw a lot of parties?"

"Lots. I wouldn't wait too long before getting some nice clothes. He's not had a company party for months. I can feel one gearing up."

"In my spare time, you can take me shopping," I said. "That is, if I ever get any. How did you manage this whole place by yourself?"

"Because someone had to. I'm proud and pleased to serve the Wayne family, just as my father did."

"I think by now the Waynes should take a turn serving you. You've definitely earned it. They can bear learning to clean their own house. They certainly know where it needs cleaning."

Alfred shook his head. "They're too busy. I'd rather not force something as menial as cleaning on them."

I stared at my uncle. "Busy? They sat around all day doing nothing!"

Alfred was silent for a moment. He didn't meet my eyes. "They have school work."

"Oh. Where do they go to school? Dick looks like he should be in college."

"They take online courses. Damian is tutored by Master Bruce and myself. Trust me, they have plenty of work to do without me adding chores. I tend not to pry, and I'd advise you to do the same."

"I don't need to pry to know they've sloughed all the work off on you." I leaned forward. "Besides, they're all buff enough to be pro-wrestlers. I'm sure they can handle it. I say from now on, you get three days off a week, while the Waynes and I clean this place from top to bottom so you don't have to do anything the other four."

"You're very thoughtful, but I'm afraid that's just not possible…"

"Hey, I'm here now. It'll be possible if I have to drag them by their ears. You can't let these guys loaf around while you do all the work."

"Samantha…"

"It's okay, uncle. I've got this covered. You just relax and I'll…"

"Sam!"

I sat back in surprise. Uncle Alfred never snapped, and never used my nickname.

"I didn't bring you here to take care of me. I brought you because you needed a home. I brought you so I could make life better for you. Don't interfere with the rest of the house."

He got up, cleared the dishes, and walked away. My hind stayed glued to the chair as my head tried to catch up to my heart. Something was wrong. Uncle Alfred was a kind, pleasant, and happy man. What could possibly goad him to burst out that way?

I subtly observed my uncle as he stacked the dishes and started washing. He didn't even seem tired. He had been cleaning up after this family since Bruce Wayne was as young as Damian. What could possibly have carried him through all of it?

Suddenly, I understood. All those boys, all the orphans and spoiled rich kids sitting around upstairs - Alfred loved them, loved them to bits. But his love was draining him. He was trying to shoulder their burdens, make their lives better, just like he was doing for me. And all that weight - the grief, the egomania, all those emotions I had barely glimpsed today - was too much for one man.

Oh, gosh. He had to be at least eighty by now. If you piled on enough emotional trauma and rich kid drama, could that kill a man?

I wouldn't let that happen. Not so soon after…

I got up and left the kitchen. I somehow found my room again and started getting ready for bed. All the while, I plotted how I was going to ease the weight from Alfred's shoulders. I would become the Robin to his Batman and add my strength to his as he took care of this crazy family. If he needed light, I would be the sun. If he needed joy, I would give him laughter.

But if I wanted his burden to be lighter, I couldn't add to it - which meant my troubles were mine and mine alone.