A somber air hung around the sleigh as Alfred turned it off of the road and onto a narrow service trail. The horses pulled them straight down the middle of the gap, their pace not slackening as the land tilted upward beneath their hooves. Only when the world leveled out and the trees opened up into a natural clearing did the butler direct the animals to stop. "...If I may, sirs," he said, waving his arm to indicate the arrangements he'd made, "I'd like to present your surprise."

No one spoke at first, and without turning around to look he could only assume that his charges were taking everything in. While he waited for someone to speak he glanced over the scene, ensuring one last time that he'd forgotten nothing. The middle of the clearing was marked by a section of packed-down snow, around which a six inch high ice wall had been built. Surrounding this inner circle were six wide tree stumps, each one smoothed out on top and place equidistant from its neighbors. A sharpened willow stick had been thrust into the ground beside every spot. Most important of all was the neatly stacked pile of logs sitting almost out of sight in the shadows beyond the staging area. It looked good, he thought a bit desperately, so why was no one saying anything? "...Sirs?" he ventured.

Dick broke out of his stupor first. "A bonfire?!" he half-queried, half-exclaimed. "Are we having a bonfire, Alfred? Tell me we are."

"That is the plan, yes, Master Dick." Dick's excitement was reassuring, but the continued silence from everyone else was beginning to make him think that he'd erred. "Unless," he went on, finally craning his neck to look backwards, "there is an objection?"

Tim gave a nervous laugh. "...Jesus, Alfred, you kind of freaked me out just now. I saw the circle inside a circle and how everything was symmetrical and I kind of thought you'd brought us out here for a ritual sacrifice or something. No offense."

"It does kind of look like that," Jason grudgingly agreed.

"Pfft. You two spend too much time in the city," Dick opined as he climbed down from his bench. "This is obviously set up for a campfire. If your first thought was ritual sacrifice then we all need to go camping together a lot more often."

"No thanks," Tim declined immediately. "A bonfire's cool, but camping...not my thing."

"I prefer pavement under my feet," Jason said when Dick turned to him.

"...There's a reason we never went camping when you were a kid, chum," Bruce explained when it was his turn. "If I don't have to sleep on the ground, I don't."

"Well fine, then," Dick said without ire. "You all just be party poopers. For tonight, though, let's get that fire going! Did you bring matches, Alfred, or are we doing this the old-fashioned way?"

"I have a lighter, Master Dick. This outing would hardly be a gift if I made you wear yourselves out rubbing sticks together until you produced a spark. And," he went on, "I think the rest of you will find the prospect of a fire almost as exciting as Master Dick seems to once you've opened the items you collected from your trees and see what they hold."

Much to his gratification, the lukewarm reception his plan had received warmed up quickly once the tiny flame from his lighter had spread into a hearty blaze. All but the remnants of the tension that had ridden with them since Damian's tree was gone by the time he'd fed and watered the horses and returned to the fireside. Bruce and Tim had both slipped their boots off and stretched their feet towards the warmth, and were smiling just as if they were sitting before a fireplace at home. Dick was gazing into the light with a contemplative look that Alfred had caught on his face many times before, which he liked to think of as his charge's 'caravan stare'. Jason wore a similar expression, but judging from the fresh charring at the unfinished end of his roasting stick he was searching for a reason to play with the fire rather than trying to draw some sort of wisdom from it.

Damian, on the other hand, was making no effort whatsoever to fool around with the flames. While that in itself was odd, what bothered Alfred more was the fact that he wasn't looking at anything at all. His eyes were stubbornly riveted to the snow between his boots, as if he wanted to see only blankness. The butler frowned, then shook his head. Presents would bring the boy around, surely. "You've all waited long enough, I think," he announced. "You may open your gifts."

That made everyone stir up out of their own thoughts, and in a minute's time the genial chatter that Alfred had hoped to hear tonight was going around. "Ha!" Dick cheered as he slipped a powder-filled plastic bag free of its colorful foil wrapping. "Alfred's best cocoa mix. Score."

"...Graham crackers?" Tim puzzled out loud a second later.

"And chocolate bars," Jason added to the list. A wicked grin sneaked across his lips. "Bruce, tell me you have marshmallows."

The billionaire peeked into one of his gifts. "I do," he verified, "but I'm not sure I believe it. S'mores are at the top of Alfred's no-eat list."

The butler nearly blushed as several suspicious gazes landed on him. "Really now, sirs," he said lightly, trying to act as if he hadn't been waging a cold war on that particular sandwich treat for decades. "It is Christmas, after all. The occasional exception can be made to almost any rule, can it not?"

"You won't hear any argument from me," Dick remarked. "...Hey, look, we even get new thermoses to drink our hot cocoa from!"

"All personalized in their designs, of course," Alfred said, seizing on the change in topic.

"So naturally Dick's is covered in elephants," Tim teased.

"It is covered in elephants," Dick delighted, holding the container up. "Elephants and horses in the same night; how could I possibly complain?"

"You could complain," Jason put in as he examined the punk-rock plaid of his own drink container, "but you wouldn't."

"What would I have to complain about?!"

"Yeah," Tim seconded. "I mean, I'm not an outdoors-guy by any stretch of the imagination, but...this is all pretty damn good. Sorry, Alfred."

"I can hardly chastise you for complimenting my gift, Master Tim. You're forgiven."

"I didn't mean this in particular," Jason replied. "I just meant he could complain in general. The point was that he wouldn't, though, because...well, because he's Dick."

"...Oh." Tim looked thoughtful for a moment. "Yeah. You're right. He wouldn't."

"Hey, that's twice in one night you two have agreed on something," Dick observed happily. "New record!"

The pair in question exchanged a startled glance. "Uh..." said Jason.

"Um..." hummed Tim.

"Celebratory s'more time!" Dick announced as he skewered a marshmallow on his stick.

Bruce looked up from where his treat was rapidly browning to make a comment. "I'm surprised it took you this long to get started."

"My tree was first for a reason, remember?" He tapped the end of his own nose. "Patience."

"Uh, Bruce?" Tim broke in stoically. "...Your marshmallow's on fire."

"What? Shit!" The billionaire appeared so shocked at his failure that even Alfred couldn't help but laugh. "...Got any of that patience to spare, chum?" he sighed after his flaming first attempt had been catapulted behind him and into the night.

"Are you asking me to figure out how to transfer a character aspect to you, or are you asking for me to cook your marshmallow?"

"The latter would probably be faster."

"Not to mention more effective," Tim joked.

"Heh. Okay, give me your stick."

Alfred, completely uninterested in ingesting the gooey globs his charges were devouring, focused instead on making cocoa. When the camp kettle he'd brought along in the sleigh was singing he filled each new travel cup carefully to the brim and advised its owner to reserve half of their drink powder for a second round. He came to Damian last, and it was then that he realized the boy lacked the tell-tale dusting of cracker crumbs that his father and brothers wore. Suspecting that he was suffering the same side effect of impatience as Bruce had been, he made a quiet proposal. "Would you like assistance with your cooking, Master Damian?"

"No. I like them burned."

He knew it was a lie despite the absence of the child's usual sarcasm, but he suspected that pressing the issue wouldn't be appreciated. "...Well, if you change your mind," he offered, then moved away. Once he'd regained his seat he made an effort to keep an eye on the youth, but the party was livening up and he was quickly dragged – not unwillingly, if he wanted to be honest with himself – into the fun. It wasn't until Jason left the fire to take a brief walk into the trees that he realized that Damian, too, had vanished. "...Did anyone happen to see where the youngest master went?" he inquired with a frown.

"He's back by the horses," Bruce answered.

"Think he'll insult them, too?" Tim mused out loud.

"Aw, leave him be, Timmy," Dick begged. "He's been good since we got here. Just let him hang out with the horses for a little while. He likes them. Actually...that might be a pretty good thing for him, you know," he directed at Bruce. "A horse. I've seen animals – especially big ones – calm him down in the past, and he could always take a ride and burn off some energy when he's really frustrated."

"We are not getting a horse," Bruce ruled immediately. "None of us have time for that, and with so many masks running around the property these days it's too risky to try and hire help. The odds of them seeing something are just too high."

"...What about a dog, sir?" Alfred suggested. "I agree with you that a horse would be too difficult to manage long-term, but Master Dick is correct in saying that some sort of pet might do Master Damian good. A large dog could do the trick admirably, and it would be far less work."

"It could even sleep in his room," Dick nodded. "Good nightmare control, too...Bruce? A dog?"

The billionaire shuffled his feet and glanced towards the horses. "...I'll think about it," he allowed seriously. "It's not a bad idea, but I want to have time to think about all of the possible cons."

"Like how he'll probably train it to eat me?" Tim said dourly.

"Timmy...c'mon, he wouldn't do that."

"He tried to enlist Jason to help kill me earlier. What makes you think he wouldn't set a dog on me?"

"Because it will be made clear to him from the beginning that any attempts to turn his dog into an attack animal will result in the dog going away and him being off patrol until he's eighteen," Bruce rumbled. "...If I decide to allow him to have a dog at all, that is."

"'If' means yes," Dick half-joked. "Excellent. It'll be nice to have an animal around the house."

Tim still didn't look happy. "I don't like big animals," he sighed. "Never have. Can't we get him a cat or something? Something manageable? Something I can punt if it goes for me?"

"What if we get you both medium-sized dogs?" Dick supplied.

"Why, so they can fight every time they meet in the hallway?"

"No, so you'll always have canine backup. Besides, we could get you both pups from the same litter; then there's a good chance they'd like each other from the start. German Shepherds," Dick said, holding up one finger to mark his idea. "We'll get you police dogs. He'll like that, and Shepherds are smart, Timmy. There's something in it for both of you."

"Mm...I guess Shepherds aren't so big. I don't know, though..."

"I still haven't agreed to one dog, let alone two," Bruce remarked. "So I wouldn't worry about it too much at this point, Tim."

"But we promise we won't let whatever we get him eat you," Dick swore.

Sensing that their rather important discussion was at a temporary end, Alfred stood up. "Excuse me," he said. "I'll just be a moment." No one questioned his departure, and as a result he didn't have to share his concern. Both Damian and Jason had been gone for some time now, and while he didn't believe that there was anything sinister behind that fact their dual absences were worrisome. The pair had been marking one another ever since their first true civilian encounter in the summer, reminding Alfred of a pair of tomcats who weren't yet sure whether they were going to fight or live side by side peacefully. He was desperately hoping for the latter result, but until they stopped shooting cautious eyeballs back and forth he saw no reason to fool himself into thinking that battle definitely wouldn't be joined.

"...What the hell are you doing out here, short shit?"

He pulled up short of the first horse and listened closely. It seemed that Jason had just come across Damian, and while Alfred wasn't delighted with his elder charge's language he was intrigued by the note of genuine interest that had been lurking behind his question. Not wanting to disturb them unless they made it necessary, he sidled over to stand behind a tree, where he would be out of sight but in earshot.

"What do you care, Todd? You didn't even want to come out on this trip, so go away."

"Maybe I didn't want to at first," Jason confessed, "but now that we're here...it's pretty good. I'm...I'm having some fun. So why aren't you?"

In his hiding spot, Alfred suddenly understood Dick's penchant for doing flips when he heard extraordinarily good news. Had he been twenty years younger and not trying to keep his presence a secret he would have done a few of his own to celebrate Jason's admission of enjoyment.

Damian was less amused, however. "Quit trying to play Grayson and leave me alone," he growled.

"...You know, you accuse people of trying to be Dick a lot," Jason remarked. "Any time someone tries to be nice to you you tell them to stop being a poseur and go back to their own business."

"So what?"

"So nothing. It's just something I noticed."

"Well it's not my fault if everyone wants to be like him. It's just annoying."

"...Do you want to be like him?"

"Do you?" a challenge was issued right back.

"Mm...there are certain things that I envy about him, sure. His easiness, the way he talks to everyone as if they're his best friend...those are useful traits to have."

"...Not everyone," Damian muttered.

"Huh?"

"I said, not everyone. He doesn't talk to everyone like that." There was a forlorn tone in the boy's voice that Alfred had never heard come from him before. "...Not tonight."

"Wait...is that why you came out here? Because you thought he wasn't talking to you?"

"No one was talking to me, Todd. Pay attention." A beat passed. "He has a hundred million friends, and I only have one – him. I don't know how he does it. I don't know, and I hate not knowing." Another short silence ensued. "...I don't care so much if the others are mad at me about earlier, but him...well. It doesn't matter."

"Yeah, actually, it kind of does," Jason objected. "And I'm not saying that because I'm 'playing Grayson', or whatever. I'm saying that because it's not true. He gave you a hug right after you got back into the sleigh earlier; how can you think he's mad at you?"

"Because he's not talking to me! Just like...everybody else."

"I'm talking to you."

"So? You don't have any reason to be mad about what I said."

"Don't I?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you painted me in a pretty bad light back there. These last few months have been hard enough as it is without you putting me in a position to answer whether or not I want to kill Tim."

"So what, that's why you came out here after me? To be all butt-hurt about the fact that I asked a perfectly likely question?"

"No. I actually didn't come out here to talk to you at all."

"Then why are you wasting your time?"

A heavy sighed sounded. "God, you are mouthy. No wonder Dick's tree was first tonight; he has to have superhuman patience to put up with you half the time."

"…If you're done insulting me, you can go away now," was said frostily.

For a moment Alfred thought that would be the end of things. Jason would huff and walk away, Damian would continue his lonesome pouting, and the situation would be left no better off than it had been. Then, for no apparent reason, Jason laughed. "…Heh. Heheheh."

"…What are you laughing at?" Damian asked, caution weighing down his words.

"You're like me."

"No I'm not. I'm nothing like you."

"Really? You're not smart-mouthed, quick to anger, and maybe more than a little bit jealous?"

"I'm…you don't know me, Todd."

"No, but I know me, and the younger me looked an awful lot like you. Listen, kid…it took me a long time to figure out that I really was being some of the not-so-nice things people accused me of. Stubborn, and not in a good way; unforgiving; even cruel. I ignored them, but…they were right." His voice grew wistful. "I'm kind of sorry for my own blindness. I had some good times while I was figuring myself out, don't get me wrong, but…I think I might have missed out on even better ones. You're a smart kid – or at least Dick says you are, and he would know – so maybe you could save yourself a lot of pain by paying attention to what I did wrong and not repeating it. You get me?"

"…It used to hurt him that you weren't around," Damian revealed quietly. "Grayson. Father, too, and Pennyworth, but it was obvious with Grayson. You know…the way he is. He didn't hide the pain."

"I know." Laughter rang out from around the distant fire. "…You don't want to hurt him the same way, Damian. I know you don't."

"No. I don't. But I don't want to be hurt, either."

"Sure. But right now you're only hurting yourself, you know? Standing out here, alone with the horses. Feeling like nobody wants to talk to you. Sure, maybe Tim doesn't want to right now, but that can change. Hell, he never used to want to talk to me – not that I can blame him for that, I didn't want to talk to him either – but according to Dick we agreed with one another twice tonight. Things change, and…well…it's not always for the worse, especially when you try to make them change for the better."

"So what are you saying, Todd? What…what am I supposed to do?"

"For starters? Go back to the fire and try not to be such a pill for the rest of the night."

"…Drake's at the fire. That makes things hard."

"I get that, kid, but…you're a Robin. If there's one thing I know, it's that a good Robin can overcome just about anything – even themselves. Dick was the one who told me that, by the way. And on the note of Robins – as much as it pains me to say this – Tim's not…not a half-bad Robin. Annoying, yes, but…not half-bad."

"Then why is he so damn aggravating?"

Jason laughed once more. "Because you're like me, Damian. Because you're like me. Anyway…think about things, huh? Maybe I'll see you back at the circle."

"…Yeah. Maybe."

Alfred had no time to move away before Jason took several steps and came into view. Catching sight of him, the younger man froze. Alfred knew he could probably see the tears standing in his eyes, and hoped that they would be enough to keep him from reacting badly to his presence. Slowly, he lifted a finger to his lips and shook his head. Not a word, young sir, he prayed. Not a word.

Jason watched him for a second more. Then a small smile broke across his face, and he nodded. Glancing back over his shoulder towards where Damian was still hiding behind the horses, he colored slightly. Then he shrugged, seeming to say that he'd done the best that he could, and continued on his way back to the family.

The butler let a minute pass before he followed, taking a slightly longer route around so as to dispel any notion that he and Jason had been in the same location during their absences. He had just regained the fire when Damian came slinking up. The boy paused at the edge of the light, then shot a secretive look towards Jason, who raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"Dami! There you are!" Dick exclaimed suddenly. "I was about to come looking for you. Here, I made you something." He held out a s'more. "I'm sugared out."

"Um…okay." Accepting the sandwich, Damian sat down atop his stump. The conversation veered away again, and after a moment Alfred saw him send a suspicious frown across the fire.

Jason saw it, too, but he simply shook his head. He hadn't said anything about their talk, the gesture relayed; Dick's present had been purely coincidental. Damian blinked several times. Then he visibly relaxed, gave his eldest brother a grateful smirk, and took a bite of his treat.

Some time later they stamped out the slowly starving flames and piled back into the sleigh. Full of cocoa and graham crackers, none of his charges spoke much as Alfred drove them back to the road. He slowed purposefully as they passed Damian's tree, giving everyone a chance to appreciate it now that the general mood was more positive. Soon afterward he realized that no sound save the jingle of bells was coming from behind him, and he craned around to see what was going on.

"Hmm," a happy noise escaped him as he saw what he'd done. In the back row, Tim had leaned into Bruce's shoulder and was fast asleep. Jason, too, had passed out, and although he wasn't using his surrogate father as a pillow he had allowed the man to place a hand on the seat back just above his head. The billionaire's knees supported Dick, who had curled up with one arm around the slumbering Damian. All in all it was exactly the scene that Alfred had privately dreamt of causing with this Christmas present to his boys.

"…Alfred." It was Bruce, speaking low and slow in the way he always did when he was trying not to wake one or more of his children.

"Yes, sir?" Alfred replied in an equally careful tone.

"Let's do this every year from now on. I know it won't be a surprise next time, but…" He trailed off.

"But there are other compensations?"

The billionaire looked at each of his sons in turn. "…Yeah. That."

"Very well," he agreed easily. It would mean a great deal more work around the holidays, what with the additional decorating and the chopping of wood, but he couldn't bring himself to mind the extra labor. "We'll make it a new tradition, then."

"Right." Yawning, Bruce closed his eyes. "A new tradition…although to be honest, I think it might already be my favorite…"

Alfred watched him doze off, then turned back to the road. …Mine as well, Master Wayne, he thought as a proud, happy smile crept across his face. Mine as well.

Author's Note: Well, that story went a fair bit longer than I had originally intended, but I think it was worth it. Hopefully you do, too.

Tomorrow we'll have a story through a teenage Dick's eyes. Happy reading!