"Mmm," Dick said as he stretched. "That was a good Christmas tree."

"It was indeed, young sir," Alfred agreed as he bent to snatch a scrap of wrapping paper from the floor. Straightening, he went on. "Now, if there's nothing either of you require at the moment I'll go and start working on your dinner."

"Wait, Alfred," Bruce requested. "...We're not quite done here yet." He couldn't help but smirk as both the boy and the butler looked at the tree in consternation. "There's one more thing to be opened," he urged when they both turned back to him.

"Is there, sir? I'm afraid I don't see it..."

"Aha!" Dick cried out. Scrambling from his seat, he skipped to the tree, stood on his tiptoes, and pulled out the envelope that had been nestled snugly back amongst the ornaments. "Is this it, Bruce?"

"You found it, chum," he nodded. "What does it say?"

The ten year old glanced down, and a sly grin slipped across his face. "'Robin'," he read. "...But does that mean I have to take this downstairs to open it?"

"No!" Bruce almost yelped. Going downstairs at this juncture would ruin everything he had so laboriously put together. "Not...not downstairs," he went on, ignoring the eyebrows his strange noise had caused to go up. "There's no one here who doesn't know about Robin, so you can open it without going anywhere."

"Oh. Cool." Small fingers slipped beneath the flap and lifted. "...It's a piece of paper," he announced.

"Read it," Bruce pressed.

"Okay...um...'overstuffed am I at parties, and underused elsewise...if heading out's what you desire, I have the supplies." His eyes widened. "Is this a clue? Do I get to search for my present?!"

"Oh, well done, Master Wayne," Alfred complimented, looking almost as excited as Dick. "What a marvelous idea."

"Well, it seemed to make sense that Robin might have to jump through a few mental hoops to get his present." Bruce shrugged, but delight over how well his idea seemed to be going over welled up in his stomach. "Anyway, kiddo, what do you think? Any idea where you're supposed to go?"

"Let's see..." Staring at the clue, Dick walked back to his seat beside the billionaire and took a sip of cocoa. "'If heading out's what you desire'...that makes it sound like it's a door, or near a door. We're not counting windows and vents as ways out, are we? Even though they technically could be?"

"I don't know," Bruce feigned innocence. "Are windows and vents 'overused at parties and underused elsewise'?"

"Weeell...sort of. The fancy ladies like to look at themselves in the windows a lot, at least. But they don't use them to go outside, so I guess that doesn't work. 'I have the supplies'..." He frowned, thinking hard. "Supplies...supplies for going outside. The coat closet!" Leaping to his feet once more, he finished reasoning out his conclusion. "The front closet is always packed full of people's furs and stuff when they come for parties, but Alfred gets upset with us the rest of the time because we don't like to put our shoes away when we come in," he babbled, his tongue tripping over itself in its eagerness. "And if you want to go outside, you have to stop by there for your shoes and your jackets and stuff. Unless you want to go out barefoot, that is."

"...Is that your final answer?"

"Yes!"

"Then let's go see if you're right."

The trio made their way to the foyer at a reasonable pace. As soon as the closet came into view, though, Dick could no longer contain himself. He sped across the room, slid the last few feet to his destination, and threw the door open. "Eep!" a squeak of joy escaped him, and he vanished inside.

"...Sir," Alfred inquired before they got too close, "is this scavenger hunt leading to the item I've been procuring parts for over the past year?"

"Yes. I meant to tell you about my plan before, but I wasn't sure everything would be ready until last night." He had, in fact, stayed in from patrol specifically to put the finishing touches on the gift waiting beneath their feet. "But at least you know what we're leading up to."

"Indeed. I must say again, Master Wayne, well done. He seems to be ecstatic about this whole thing."

"I wish it was longer," Bruce sighed, "but there's only so much gear he needs."

"Don't feel bad for having equipped him well from the beginning, sir. That's hardly shameful."

"True." They had reached the closet now, and both peeked through the doorway. "...Well, chum? Were you right?"

"Yes!" Dick turned around wearing a set of supple motorcycle leathers in Robin's colors, a pair of equally flamboyant riding gloves, and a giant smile. "I love it. They're so soft..." His hands ran across the front pockets as he stroked the fine hide, and something crackled. "...Oh, hey! Is that another clue?!"

"I don't know. Maybe you should read it and find out," Bruce teased.

Dick batted his eyelashes. "You do know," he accused good-naturedly. "Let's see...'rain may fall and hail may bounce, but I help you stay unperturbed. When I need to be repaired, some workers may be disturbed.' Huh?" He wrinkled his nose. "That's a weird one. Let's see...it's got to be something around here, like in the house, because you wouldn't want me to go out in public in Robin clothes" -he stroked one sleeve again- "and you wouldn't make me take them off right away because you're not mean like that..."

Beside Bruce, Alfred coughed to cover a snort of laughter.

"...So...rain and hail, and repairs. That stuff falls on the grass, but I don't know why anyone would be 'disturbed' by a job doing landscaping. Unless they had allergies or something, but they they should probably find something different to do. Hmm...the only other thing I can think of that gets a lot of rain or hail on it is the roof, and I guess it would be perturbing if we were getting hit in the head with that stuff instead. Plus, some people are afraid of heights, so there are those scared workers. But...did you really put a present on the roof, Bruce?"

"In the interest of not having you crawling around on top of the house all day looking for your present," the billionaire said, "I'll tell you. Yes, your next present is on the roof-"

"Good heavens, Master Wayne, I do hope you were careful..."

"-but I cheated a little with your clue. It's on the flat portion that sticks out next to the telescope room," he assured Alfred, "not up on the apex or anywhere like that."

"So," Dick pressed, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "can we go get it? Please?"

Bruce smiled at the glowing face that was using every muscle it possessed to beg him to say yes. "You bet, chum. Lead the way."

"Oh, man," the boy breathed once they'd climbed to the large room on the back side of the third floor. A gleaming helmet sat waiting for him just outside, its rounded dome reflecting the morning light provocatively. "I'm so excited. Can I reach out and get it? Please?"

A quick glance out the window told Bruce that the gift was close enough for that. "You can," he allowed, "but your feet have to stay on the floor." The roof dropped away precipitously only six inches past the object they'd come to retrieve, and while he knew that his boy was a pro at rooftops his boy was also a boy. A moment of simple, unthinking joy could easily turn into tragedy, and that was intolerable. "Deal?"

"Sure!" Dick stood on his tiptoes and stretched, but his fingers slipped along polished carbon fiber time and again without getting any grip. "...It's too far away," he reported, his expression disappointed. "I'm not tall enough to get it."

Bruce could have just grabbed the helmet himself and handed it to its new owner, but he sensed that half the fun would be gone if he did. Instead he lifted Dick without warning and set his knees on the windowsill. "There," he said, keeping his arm wrapped firmly around his waist. "Now you can reach."

"...You know I'm not going to fall, right?"

His grip tightened. "Yeah. I do know that. Now get your present, kiddo. You've still got one more clue to solve."

"Yay!" In a moment the helmet had been clawed into the room and proclaimed 'totally awesome'. The third hint was fished out of the inside lining, and Dick read it aloud. "'I stand by, a silent guardian, as guests move to the ball. My hands may look quite empty, but they hold the greatest secret of all.'" He looked up, smiling. "That one's easy. It's the clock."

"Right," Bruce nodded. "You want to lead again?"

"Yes! Let's go!"

Once they had traversed the length of the house again and stopped before the clock, Dick hesitated. "...Why's there a black cloth hanging from the hands?"

"Because I don't want you to see this last part until the right moment," Bruce answered, untangling the blindfold from its perch. "Take off your helmet and turn around."

"How am I going to go down the stairs? It is downstairs, isn't it?"

"Yes. I'll carry you. Sound good?"

"Yup!" He spun around. "Ready!"

Bruce chuckled. "...Ah, Dick?"

"Yeah?"

"Helmet."

"Oh!" Pulling the apparatus off, he handed it to Alfred. "Okay. Now I'm ready."

"Good." He tied a firm knot at the back of the boy's head, then swept him up. They passed through the doorway behind the clock and began to descend. Small giggles began to sound when they were halfway down. "What are you laughing at?"

"I'm just so excited!"

Smiling softly, Bruce held him a bit closer. "Me, too, chum. Just wait another minute, and you'll have your surprise."

"I can't wait!"

"You can wait. We're almost there..."

They reached the bottom. "Are we there?!"

"Almost. Hold on." He had initially planned to just set the child down, circle around behind the motorcycle that was glimmering in the low light of the cave, and wait there to see Dick's face when he was given permission to take off his blindfold. Struck by what seemed like an even better touch, he settled his load down on the seat and then stepped back. "...Okay, Dicky," he breathed. "You can look."

The black cloth was whipped off so fast that it went flying into the shadows. For a moment there was nothing but silence as the boy boggled at the array of dials and knobs on the dash in front of him. His fingers, still clad in their new gloves, slipped along the blackened handlebars to the grips. "...Bruce?" he asked tremulously.

"Hmm?" So entranced was he by the sight before him that all Bruce could manage was that hum of acknowledgment. It was a perfect combination, his baby and this bike, even more perfect than he'd imagined on the dozens of nights he'd spent laboring to make it a reality. He would miss having his partner in the car with him every night they went out together, but this moment, this memory, was enough to make the loneliness worth it.

"Is...is it really mine?"

"It is, kiddo. All yours. All Robin's." He paused. "I built it just for you."

"You did?"

"I did."

He wasn't sure how Dick managed to launch himself into a flying hug without knocking over the bike, but suddenly there was sixty pounds of acrobat in his arms. His son snuggled into him and gave a short whisper.

"...You're the best, dad. I love you. Merry Christmas."

Those nine words, Bruce decided as he closed his eyes and squeezed the boy close, were by far the best gift he'd received that day.