Tim's chest itched on the inside. He squirmed a bit and hoped that Mother wouldn't frown at him the way she sometimes did when he fidgeted too much when they were out a crowded, quiet restaurant. She wasn't frowning yet. She was too busy talking too Mrs. Thompson, his old kindergarten teacher from last year when he went to Robert Duncan. Tim thought that was kind of strange, especially since Mrs. Thompson was dressed in the old smack she used to wear when it Art Time, and they were going to get to paint that day. That wasn't something you wore to a party, especially one being held at the top of Wayne Tower.

Not the top floor, but the very top. People were standing on gargoyle heads and guard railing, and any vacant bit of space that the narrow, pointed roof would give. The live band was somehow balancing themselves on the top tower and playing some song that Tim didn't know and couldn't really hear over the howl of the wind. No one seem to mind or care about it, so Tim tried not to either.

Tim shifted again to try and stop the itching, but a cough finally tore out of his mouth before he could stop it. The more he fought to keep himself from doing so, the faster and harder they came.

His mother shifted her gaze from Mrs. Thompson to Tim. She raised a single eyebrow and asked, "Timothy?"

The entire party became quiet. Even the wind.

"Tim?" Dad asked. A frowned pulled on his face as he glanced down at Tim, but it wasn't as disapproving as Mother's.

Still, Tim couldn't stop.

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder as Bruce knelt down next to him. "Tim, are you okay?"

Everyone was staring at him as he continue to cough, but his chest wouldn't stop itching and now so was his throat; and his head was staring to hurt with every hacking gust that burst past his lips; and he couldn't catch his breath now; and he began to wonder if this was what it felt like to choke to death; and –

Rolling onto his side, Tim coughed himself awake and blinked away the last bit of the dream. His whole body seemed to shake as he did so, and his head was ached a little more each time. After what felt like forever, the fit began to pass, and Tim was finally able to full realize that he was safely curled up on a soft bed. Groaning, he buried his face into his fuzzy pillow that had Superman's symbol on it but kicked at the matching fleece blanket that had been thrown over him. He felt too hot and slightly sticky, and even though he loved the Christmas gift from Mr. (Uncle?) Clark, he really didn't want it on him right at the moment. Maybe in a little while after he cooled off, but not now.

"You okay, Timbo?"

Cracking an eye open, Tim looked down at the end of the bed. Dick was sitting just past the end of Tim's blanket with Damian in his lap and a handful of cards. His nose was red and the nasally sound that Dick had spoken with since he got sick the week before was still clearly heard. It wasn't as bad as before, not like Tim's own voice for the past few days, but it was still there.

Damian was kicking about in Dick's lap, grabbing at the cards as if they meant something to him. He didn't look near as bad as Dick still did, or how bad Tim felt, but the occasional tiny cough would escape from him his mouth and onto the cards. The vague thought that that was rude crossed Tim's mind (and sounded a lot like Mother if he thought about it), but Damian was barely two and wouldn't know any better.

Tim was kind of surprised to see Jason sitting across from Dick and Damian with his own set of cards in hand. He'd been just as sick as Tim earlier. In fact, he'd actually been sicker for the past few days than him and Dick, with a high fever instead of a low like Tim. The medicine that Dr. Lesley had given them had kept it was getting as high as Dick's had gotten that first night, but Tim knew that Alfred and Bruce didn't like how long it had been running at over a hundred. He must be feeling a lot better, though, because Jason was not only sitting up playing cards but also looking at Dick like he was ready to throttle him for taking so long.

Lifting his head, Tim laid it so that he could face Dick without having to actually sit up and nodded. "I'm okay."

"Sure you don't need some water?" Dick asked. "I could get you some."

Even though Dick looked like he was ready to go get some anyway, Tim still shook his head. His chest didn't itch any longer, so he thought he'd be okay for at leas a little while.

"You sure?" Dick asked again.

Jason rolled his eyes and said, "Stop trying to smother him, Dickiebird. If he needs something, he'll let us know."

Frowning, Dick said, "Just because you're too stubborn to ask for anything doesn't mean Tim is."

"And just because you feel guilty about giving everyone the flu doesn't mean you keep bugging him," Jason shot back.

Dick's cheeks and neck turned pink at the accusation, but before he could deny or argue with Jason, a gruff "Stop it, both of you" cut him off.

Bruce groaned slightly as he pushed himself up in a more sitting position than he had been moments before. As he pulled his hands over his face to wipe away the last bit of sleep, the book he had been reading to them earlier slid off his chest and bounced closed. Tim couldn't really remember the last part he had heard, but he vaguely thought it had something to do with Sir Percy promising to save his wife's brother.

That awkward smile reappeared on Dick's face as he said, "Hey, Bruce. You feeling any better?"

"I'm fine, Dick," he replied. Tim might have thought he was telling the truth if Bruce didn't look as bad as Tim felt.

"That is yet to be determined, Master Bruce."

Rolling onto his back, Tim watched as Alfred set down a tray of medicine on the end table next to the queen that was across the room from the king they had all gathered on that day. He picked up the ear thermometer and then made his round. Dick's and Damian's fevers broke the day before, but Alfred still checked them anyway. He had told them earlier that if they still didn't have one by that night, they'd be banished from this area of the house until everyone was better too. Alfred gave an approving nod when he checked Dick's temperature, which was closely followed by another at Damian's.

"Twenty-four hours and neither of you have spiked," he said. "I'd say that you are both well on the mend."

"So, back to our rooms tonight, Alfred?" Dick asked as Alfred came over to Tim to check him.

"I'd say so, Master Dick," he said. "I've already readied them for your return."

Dick probably made a face or something, since the only thing he seemed to like about being sick was the forced togetherness time, but Tim was too tired to worry with it. It didn't take Alfred but a minute to check his temperature. Judging by the frown, he wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

Tucking his Superman blanket back around – Tim hadn't even realized he was shivering again – Alfred smiled at him and said, "Not to worry, Master Timothy. I'm sure yours will break any time now."

Tim could only nod in response and pulled his blanket more tightly around himself.

Jason was next up, and Alfred was clearly relieved when his did come back normal.

"Can't I go back to my room, too, Alfie?" Jason asked.

"Not just yet, I'm afraid," Alfred said. "But I'll bring you a cookie up for dessert tonight, if you're feeling up to it."

Pretending to think it over for a moment, Jason said, "I can live with that."

Tim tried not to make a face at the thought of a cookie, even if it was one of Alfred's. That just sounded like...'no' right now. Maybe forever, too. Tim hoped not, though. He really did like Alfred's cookies.

Tim felt Bruce push himself up even more when Alfred turned his attention to him. Though he couldn't see it, Tim was pretty sure that Bruce was trying not to glare as Alfred patiently waited for him to at least pretend to cooperate.

"I don't need you to check my temperature, Alfred," Bruce said just before he began to cough deeply. Tim tried not to wince at the sound, but he didn't know how successful he was at it. Bruce could be really loud when he wanted, and Tim's head was still hurting.

"No, I'd say I most certainly do not." Returning to the try with the medicine, Alfred asked, "Do you wish for me to contact Mr. Kent should any emergency need tending too tonight in Gotham?"

Now Tim knew that Bruce was glaring, but he didn't dare take his gaze off of Alfred. This had been an ongoing battle between the two men since Bruce passed out at dinner three nights ago. Tim still remembered when Alfred had brought him in there after Bruce woke up, and told Jason and Tim to move from the queen to the king with Dick and Damian. It actually been kind of scary seeing Batman that sick, and even worse when Bruce still thought he was well enough to go out on patrol. Tim wasn't exactly sure what Alfred gave Bruce to make him pass out again that fast, but it had started this ongoing war that didn't look to be ending any time soon.

Tim, at least, had the good grace to not look like he was listening too closely to, but Dick and Jason both were turning their heads back and forth like they were watching a tennis match.

After a solid minute of silence passed, Bruce said, "We'll talk about it later."

Seeming satisfied for the moment, Alfred nodded his head.

"Very good, sir," he said.

The tension lowered for a moment as Alfred went about preparing the dosages that Dr. Lesley had left for them. However, before he finished, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a rumpled letter.

"By the way, I thought you might want to see this," he said. "I found this is Master Dick's room earlier when I changing the bed sheets."

"What is it?" Bruce asked as he took the letter – which now that Tim could see it up close, he realized was actually just a folded piece of paper like teachers give you at school. In fact, it was just like one.

"It's a note from Gotham Academy," Alfred said, "warning parents that the new strain of flu has hit the school particularly hard this year, and that if your child should start to have a fever or dizziness, you should take them to the doctor immediately."

Raising an eyebrow, Alfred turned to Dick and said, "I do believe it was dated from two weeks ago."

Gulping, Dick ducked down at little almost as if he were hiding behind Damian.

"Um, yeah, I meant to give that to you guys," he said. "Ah...oops?"