As Bruce expected, the media had been in a frenzy ever since the kidnapping hit the news. There was an army of reporters, news anchors, sound guys, and camera men at the gates of Wayne Manor. Alfred was forced to park the limousine in front of the gates. The ocean of media hounds refused to abate. Bruce gritted his teeth, angry at the lack of respect and privacy that his son received. He exited the limo, instructing Dick to say nothing and follow him closely. Bruce Wayne was no stranger to the workings of the press. They were being as respectful as they knew how to be, but they were still out of line. Bruce elbowed his way through the mob that had gathered at his doorstep.

"Mr. Wayne! Care to comment on the return of your son?"

"How is Richard holding up?"

"What do you know about the kidnappers?"

Bruce pushed through the middle of them, stone faced.

"No comment."

Dick hurriedly followed in the steps of his father, hating all the microphones, flashing lights, and reporters shoved in his face. He said nothing to the press and eventually, they parted like the Red Sea.

Finally, they reached the door, and the raging sea of media was behind them.

Dick kicked off his shoes, feeling like a stranger in his own house. He felt disconnected from everything, and sat on the couch, unsure of how to feel. Bruce's hand anchored him and brought him back to reality. He looked up to his father with curious eyes.

Finally, the silence was broken.

"What do you want to do, Dick?" Bruce asked. He knew he had to play this delicately. Dick had been kidnapped by his arch foe and unable to fight back. It had to be somewhat traumatic for him. Dick paused, unsure of what to say.

"I don't know..." He said, quietly.

"Do you want to go down to the cave and work out some of your frustration out?"

"Sure." He said, cracking the first hint of a smile.

They headed down to the BatCave, and Dick worked out for a good hour, angry at what he didn't get to do to Slade. He silently vowed to get back at him at a point later in the week. He stopped when he realized that it wasn't how he wanted to spend the first weekend he'd had with his father in nearly a year. He looked at his father, who sat at the end of a rowing machine, and their eyes connected. Bruce went over to his son, who looked at him innocently.

"Bath?" He asked, quietly. Bruce smiled and nodded.

"Sure, Chum." Bruce lifted his son into his arms and took him into the master bathroom. The water was perfectly heated, and soon began to fill the large tub. Dick sat on the floor, watching the water rise. It was in stark contrast to Slade's lair. The comparison made him more scared than he wanted to admit. Unconsciously, his thumb slipped into his mouth. Bruce smiled as he glanced back at his son. Taking off his own suit jacket, Bruce hung it on the hook behind the door and rolled up the sleeves of his own dress shirt. He undressed his son, added bubble bath to the tub, and waited until it was full to help his son into the warm water.

Dick felt at ease as he was immersed in the hot water. It was just a tad too warm for his liking, but in this case it was a good thing. He imagined all the dirt and grime that he had accumulated during his stay with Slade to be drowning in a boiling ocean of death. No molecule was going to survive.

Bruce gently ran a soapy sponge over his son's back. Dick tensed in response the first second, but then relaxed in an attempt to get used to the still foreign touch. He sat in the bath, trying to make himself push out the memories of captivity under Slade, both in and out of costume. He had to wash him away, get him off of his mind. He just wanted to forget.

Unknowingly, a small whimper escaped him. He didn't notice it, but Bruce did immediately. He began to hum quietly as he finished washing his son. Dick relaxed and set his thumb in his mouth. He almost removed it when it tasted of soap, but quickly found that it didn't really matter to him. As Bruce drained the tub, he wrapped Dick in a fluffy towel and let him dry off before putting him in a fresh diaper. As Dick stared up at the fluorescent lighting, he was reminded that life didn't always have to be dark. Slade could live and plot his life away in the dark, as could Robin, but Dick Grayson was a light in the darkness. He looked at life from an optimistic standpoint and had a cheery way of greeting people. He walked on fresh grass, played the flute, and hummed a happy song on the path of life. Dick Grayson was allowed to be a happy, carefree boy.

He just forgot that sometimes.

He latched onto his father's hip as he was carried to the safe confines of the nursery. For the first time in a long time, he felt absolute security. He realized that the chains of insecurity and unsureness were of his own making. He broke the chains apart and removed the shackles from his feet. For once, he was free. Totally and completely free to be whatever he wanted.

As Bruce laid his son in his crib, he was so happy to see Dick falling asleep. After everything that had happened, he realized that it really was the little things that mattered in the long haul. He planted a kiss on his son's forehead and pulled up the crib bar. He stood for a long moment, watching his son sleep, before flicking off the light, and shutting the door.

Little did he know, an unexpected surprise was taking place- and he wouldn't be able to shield Dick from it.