A/N: There are gonna be a lot of time jumps going on here, but I don't think they're difficult to follow. "Cutting off your nose to spite your face" is an English saying, just type it into Google for a definition if you don't understand.

I guessed how old Bruce is, but if anyone knows for sure, let me know! Oh, and also Alfred. I'm guessing about 70, and no one drinks Earl Grey at age 12 no matter how cultured they are. Except maybe the queen. Before she was the queen, obviously, 'cause no one becomes Queen at 12 years old. I'm babbling. Shutting up now. Heh.

Chapter Nineteen – Happy Birthday, Bruce

One week later (A/N: I keep doing that, don't I?)

Alfred sighed as he crushed the slice of lemon in his tea against the side of the cup. Earl Grey – always drunk black with lemon, never milk. It was the same way he'd started his day for the past fifty two years. The one moment of luxury he allowed himself: a cup of Earl Grey, and to watch the sunrise.

But today was a bad day.

Today was the day of Bruce Wayne's thirty ninth birthday. It wasn't the birthday Alfred had a problem with – last year's had actually been…pleasant. They'd just had a quiet, private dinner with the members of the Batclan. There had been a huge, socialite-filled party of course, but that, thankfully, had been held in the Gotham Ritz, and not in the manor. This year it was going to be in the manor. And all manner of crass, loud, shallow, shiny people were going to invade the household that he kept clean and tidy. He had hoped that it would be different. But since Master Bruce had come back from the Arctic utterly heartbroken, Alfred barely recognised his not-so-young charge anymore. Worse, Bruce didn't seem to want to fight for her.

Alfred gave another sigh. Diana of Themyscira was the perfect match. Or had been.

And for the first time in his forty six years' service to the Wayne family, Alfred almost wanted to resign. If it hadn't been for Master Tim he might have done. There was no point in taking care of a family that had splintered. Taking a last sip of his tea, Alfred silently cursed whatever Fate had decreed that Bruce Wayne was never to be happy.

Putting the cup down with a decisive clink on the marble worktop, Alfred began making breakfast for Master Bruce. At Timothy's request, he did not make breakfast for him – when he moved into the manor, it had taken several appeals to Alfred, but eventually Alfred had merely stopped trying. Master Tim had once been a normal teenager, of course. Master Bruce had never had that particular advantage.

As he put china and silverware on the tray he'd carry up to the master bedroom, Alfred cast his eyes up to the heavens, uttering his annual apology. I'm sorry he's not happy yet.

---

Tim groaned as his alarm clock buzzed. He wasn't in a hurry to wake up any day, but today…

Today was a bad day.

At least he'd have Dick there tonight. Someone who was actually human to talk to, and not made out of plastic. Tim wondered if he'd be bringing Barbara too… Alfred would be rushed off his feet, of course, so there wouldn't be any rescue coming from there… Could he maybe fake the Batsignal? Bruce obviously couldn't go, but he and Dick might be able to slip away. Pushing the duvet back, Tim sat up, feeling marginally more cheerful. Nothing like the prospect of escaping from a party and kicking ass to perk you up.

Showering and dressing quickly, Tim jogged downstairs to get breakfast, passing Alfred on the way. "Morning, Alfred."

"Good morning, Master Tim. I trust you slept well?"

"Like a log," Tim grinned. "Tell the old man happy birthday from me, ok?"

"I shall do, Master Tim," Alfred said, continuing upward.

Tim bolted down his breakfast, grabbed some juice from the carton while Alfred was out of the room, then cursed as he looked at the clock. The bus would be at the gates in less than ten minutes, and it was a ridiculously long walk down the drive. He jogged all the way, getting there just in time, and clutching a stitch in his side.

By the time it got to fifth period, Tim was rethinking his stance on the party tonight being the worst possible thing in the world. He was facing double calculus, followed by his presentation on the fall of Troy in history, then gym, then art, and only then could he go home. Just in time to be pressganged by Alfred into cleaning the manor top to bottom, no doubt.

Still, the presentation went well, but he came out of that class thinking about Diana, and wondering when exactly Bruce would stop trying to cut of his nose just to spite his face. Obviously she wouldn't be there tonight, it would be impossible to explain. But still… Lost in his own thoughts, Tim walked into about half a dozen people without noticing, not even bothering to say hello to Laura, the girl he had a crush on.

Tim didn't pretend all the time. Neither did Dick. Sure, they had to balance the dual identities, but they still had time to just be themselves. It wasn't much time, but it was enough to keep them from going crazy.

Bruce seemed to have lost that. For weeks now, Tim hadn't had a father. He'd gone on patrol with Batman, or he'd seen the playboy going out to various gatherings – at least for the past week – and that was it. The bit in the middle was missing. He'd forgotten who his father was. In fact the last time they'd spent any real time together had been the evening Diana had stayed for dinner. He didn't know what had happened between the two of them in the Cave when Bruce said goodbye to her, but the billionaire had come back up the stairs whistling.

He delayed going back home as long as he could. School got out at 4:30, so Tim went to the library, to actually do his homework. But it was easy, and only lasted for an hour or so. Taking out his cell phone, he dialled Dick's number.

"Yes, Tim, I'm still coming," he said by way of greeting.

"Well you better be," Tim said darkly. "There's no way I'm putting up with Maisy Evans telling me how cute I am and pinching my cheek again by myself."

"You could just throw her," Dick suggested.

"Yeah, that would go down well with Bruce I'm sure. Besides, if she went through a window Alfred would get mad, and that is a scary prospect."

Dick chuckled. "True. You call just to make sure I was coming, or was there something else?"

"I was thinking…tonight might be a good time to ambush Bruce."

"Ambush him?" Dick asked, alarmed. "I'm pretty sure that would be a stupidly dangerous thing to do-"

"No, you idiot, I mean talk to him." He sighed. "It's getting bad, Dick."

"I know. We'll talk to him." There was an indistinct voice on the other end, someone talking to Dick. "I've got to go, Tim, I'll see you in a couple of hours."

"I'll hunt you down if you don't. Bye, Dick."

Putting the phone away, Tim took a deep breath. There was nothing for it. He was going to have to go home.

---

Seven hours later

"It's official," Tim moaned out loud, collapsing onto the couch. "That was the worst four hours of my entire life."

Barbara – she had accompanied Dick after all – laughed. "It wasn't that bad, Tim."

"Yeah well Maisy Evans didn't corner you. Three times."

"Only because I accidentally ran over her toes when she tried."

"'Accidentally', huh?" Dick asked.

"Of course accidentally," she replied with a grin. "What kind of woman do you take me for?"

Much to Tim's dismay, the Batsignal hadn't been illuminated, and they'd been stuck in the manor for the entire night. The three were sitting in the living room while Bruce said goodbye to the last of his guests – the aforementioned Maisy Evans. Who wouldn't leave. Finally, fifteen minutes later, Bruce poked his head through the door to say goodnight, somehow still grinning, and with a bright scarlet lipstick mark on his cheek. His two sons exchanged serious looks, and Dick shrugged as if to say it's now or never.

"Actually, Bruce, we need to talk to you," he said.

Barbara, recognising a cue to leave when she heard one, headed to the door while Bruce entered. "I'll think I'll go see if Alfred needs any help…"

Wiping the lipstick from his cheek, Bruce sat and motioned to his sons. "About what?"

Dick began hesitatingly. "Well…it's just that…" He stopped and took a deep breath. "Bruce, we hate the parties. Alfred hates the parties. You hate the parties – I know why you have to have a party," he carried on, seeing Bruce about to interrupt.

"But you didn't have to have it here," Tim said. "The manor used to be apart from all that. Just somewhere we could all…veg'."

"Veg'?"

"Yeah. And now it's not, 'cause you don't veg' anymore. Not that you ever really did veg', but you're acting the whole time, Bruce. The whole time."

"But you doing that means that we have to as well," Dick said. "Or at least Tim does. You can do it twenty four-seven if you like, but it's not fair to expect us to do that same. You acting means we all have to. Added to which, whatever it is is affecting you badly, which means it's affecting Batman too, and I can't worry about Bludhaven and Gotham and you. Neither can Tim. We haven't relaxed in weeks."

There was a pause while Bruce absorbed that. Finally he sighed. "I know. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," Tim said. "You're a good father, Bruce. To both of us, but…"

"We feel like we've lost you," Dick finished.

"We just want to know why."

There was a pause, and then he told them. He told them everything.

When he'd finally finished, he expected a long silence and stunned expressions. Well he got the stunned expressions. But he didn't get the long silence.

"Do it," Dick immediately said.

"Yup," Tim confirmed. "No brainer."

He blinked and raised an eyebrow. "Just like that?"

"Just like that. Face it, Bruce, with the things the League does…how likely is it that Diana will get the chance to live forever anyway? Don't you want to be happy while you can, before something happens to one of you?"

There was a knock on the door, and Alfred came in with a tray of cups. "Coffee, sir."

"I'm sure you've been listening in too," Bruce said dryly.

Alfred looked highly offended, and drew himself up with a sniff. "An Englishman never eavesdrops, Master Wayne. But if I had been, I would have to agree with Master Dick and Master Tim. Miss Diana would make a wonderful addition to the household." Offering a stiff nod, he moved to the door. "Goodnight, sir."

Dick stood up as well. "I should go. Got to take Babs home. Happy birthday, Bruce."

"I'm going to bed too," Tim said. At the door, he paused. "Just for tonight…as a birthday present, let yourself imagine what it would be like." He left, leaving Bruce alone with his thoughts.

Of which there were only two.

Keep Wonder Woman alive.

Or kill Diana.

He made up his mind a hundred times, then unmade it only to make it up again before dawn finally broke. As the sun rose, and the birds in the grounds began singing, Bruce got up, and headed down to the Batcave.

Before he made his decision, there was one more person he had to talk to.

---

A/N: I know Bruce is doing an awful lot of confiding in people considering he's…well…Bruce, but Clark is one of his closest friends, and Dick and Tim are family, after all. Last chapters on the way! Probably will end up at 22 – including epilogue. Review this one please!