Author's Note: I received a request from a couple of readers for a glimpse at how Alfred's handling everything that's going on. We have a chapter from his POV today, and will jump back to Dick and Tim tomorrow. Happy reading!

"Batman to base."

Alfred started in his chair. "Bloody hell," he murmured, scrubbing a hand down his face. He hadn't meant to doze off, but when he considered the high amount of stress he'd been under ever since Mr. Kent had walked into the kitchen wearing an exceedingly somber look some thirty-six hours earlier he wasn't surprised. Fumbling for the radio, he brought it to his lips. "Have you news, sir?"

"Yes. Good and bad."

"Go on, then," he urged, leaning forward.

"Robin located them and spoke with them before my arrival."

"Did he indeed?! That's marvelous." Slumping backwards, he gave a great sigh of relief. And to think that I was mad at the scalawag for stealing the Batplane and sneaking out. If he hadn't been there when they were, contact might never have been made... Something in Batman's voice cooled his joy, however, and by the time he'd worked up the courage to ask what the bad news was he was frowning.

"I was unable to either see or communicate with them," a grim reply came.

"...I don't understand," he shook his head. A dozen horrid images flashed behind his eyes. Perhaps an aftershock had opened a gaping maw in the earth below his trapped charges' feet and sucked them down into oblivion, he shuddered. Maybe something or someone had come along and dragged them away while the youngest of the trio had been standing helplessly on the far side of the barrier. Or worse still... "They didn't go off after the responsible party, sir," he begged hollowly. "Tell me they weren't so foolish as that."

"I wish I could. But you hate it when I lie to you."

He shut his eyes tightly. Damn it, children, he swore. Why must you be so admirably, stupidly valiant as you are? I would blame your father if I didn't know full well that I'd done my fair share to encourage you in your bravery... "Do you at least know where they're headed? Can you track them?"

"I know where they're going, but I can't track them unless we make visual contact again." A beat passed. "...They're hurt. Both of them."

He both did and did not want to know the specifics of their injuries. Only the thought that he would be somewhat prepared to treat them when they were finally delivered back into his hands was enough to push him into querying further. "Did Master Robin give you details?"

"Nightwing's on a crutch and might have a concussion. Red Robin's in better shape, but his knees are scraped to the bone." A shaky breath was released on the other end of the line, fuzzing the connection for a moment. "...I don't know how they'll be able to do it. God help me for saying it, but...I just don't know how."

Alfred's brows drew together. "They've managed missions while laboring under far worse injuries in the past, sir," he reminded.

"Yeah, but they didn't have to climb half a mountain range just to get to the villain any of those times," came back immediately. "And this place...there are still aftershocks going on. Big ones. Every time I look down at the earth there's a new fissure, or another rock slide, or something. Don't get me wrong, if anyone can do this it's the two of them, but that's the problem."

"...Sir?"

"I don't think anyone can do it. I hope I'm wrong, but...not even the cowl can stop the fear this time. It's bleeding through..."

"I take it that you are alone at the moment?" Even if the filter of the cowl had lost some of its effectiveness under the onslaught of parental terror he knew was stalking its wearer, Batman would never speak so frankly unless there was no one nearby to overhear. Since the only two people who were exceptions to that rule were the reason he was in such a tizzy to start with, it was a safe bet that he had locked himself in the cockpit.

"Yes. Robin and Flash are both passed out in the passenger section."

"Well, that's no surprise. The boy can't have gotten much sleep last night, and I'm sure Flash didn't either."

"He was on the task force. He didn't get any." An aggravated puff of air came through. "I envy them."

"Insomnia, sir?"

"Something like that."

"You must have something you can do to pass the time?" Action, any action, was sure to take Bruce's mind temporarily off of his worry. It would be far from a permanent fix, but at least it would lend him a few moments of relief.

"I've done everything I can think of," he received a stony reply. "Whoever invented this force field...I'd like to pick their brain. There's no way through it short of us figuring out how to turn ourselves into sunlight and then reassemble on the other side."

"Hmm..." There was nothing he could really say to that, but he couldn't help being impressed. Anyone who could come up with something capable of stumping the entire coterie of heroes that his charges associated with was worthy of respect. "What about the earthquakes?" he tried to nudge the other man's train of thought onto a parallel track in the hopes that it ran a bit further before petering out. "Any idea yet how those are being manufactured?"

"I have no clue. Superman has crews on the ground in the populated areas that were affected by this quake, and he's dispatched plenty of people to the latest epicenter on the India-Pakistan border, but no one's come back with anything useful."

"How are you planning to fill the time, then?" It was a far more important question than it sounded, for Alfred knew that even with company Batman would drive himself half-insane if he had nothing to do but hover above the barrier keeping him from his damaged children. You must keep yourself occupied somehow, he grimaced. If fear is slipping around the cowl already, I quiver to think what sort of state you'll be in after another day or two.

"...I've been watching the video."

"The video, sir?"

"Of them. One of the plane's external cameras picked up part of their conversation with Robin, and...and I've been watching it. Probably too much, but..."

"I understand the allure of such a film, sir," he said, trying to keep his voice both firm and gentle at the same time, "but you cannot let yourself waste away in front of it."

"I know. That's...that's partially why I called, was to force myself to take a break. We were looking for them under magnification until it started getting dark, and it was better then, but now...I don't want to shine a spotlight down there. If whoever they're going to have to take on is paying any attention at all, they're sure to notice it. I don't want to risk giving away their position."

"Of course." Sleep, Bruce, he pleaded. You need to sleep. He could hear the exhaustion in his voice now that he was speaking almost normally, and knew that a night spent staring at a screen was not the proper cure. "If I may advise you; get some rest. Wake one of the others, or see if Superman can spare a few hours of his time to monitor the situation from the plane, and then take a sleeping pill and go to sleep. Even if it isn't good sleep," he hurried on before an objection could be launched, "you'll be that much closer to dawn when you wake."

A rumble sounded. "...I suppose you have a point. But-"

"But nothing," Alfred shook his head at the radio. "What good will you be to them if the force field drops in the morning and you're too tired to do anything about it? And to allay temptation," he added, "send that video to me."

"What?"

"Send the video of them to me, and then delete it from the plane's archives. I will keep it safe here, and can always send it back to you later if you need it for analysis, but it won't be available for you to get stuck on it. Do you see my reasoning?"

"Yes, but-"

"Do you want Master Robin to see it and become obsessed as well?" That argument would be enough, he was sure; invoking the well-being of one of the children was almost always a guaranteed conversation-ender.

"...No. No, he's already blaming himself enough for all of this."

"What on earth for?" As if Master Damian hasn't enough to worry about already, with his brothers missing and a madman on the loose…

"It's a long story, but...well, you know how they are. Him and Nightwing."

"Hmm...yes, but...well, I suppose it doesn't matter at the moment, unless you need my assistance with that problem as well?"

"No, I think I managed that one on my own."

"Very good," he nodded, pleased. The pair of them desperately needed to make some sort of connection, and had been fretting over it for months, but hadn't been able to come up with an adequate solution. As awful as it was, perhaps Batman and Robin's shared concern over their missing family members was exactly the right thing to bridge the distance between them. "I'm glad to hear it."

The computer before him gave a short plink. "...There's the video," Batman informed him. "I'm...deleting it...now."

"Good decision, sir."

"I hope you're right."

There was a moment of silence. "Would you like me to call Superman for you?" Alfred offered eventually. "It's no problem. I'm sure he won't mind standing watch for a few hours."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows, with the way he's treating this whole thing?"

"I think we both know that he hopes for their safe return just as much as you and I do," he chastised. "I'll call him, shall I?"

"...Fine. Call him. At least dealing with him will give me something to do."

The last comment was so bitter that the butler winced. I really don't know that Mister Kent deserves such ire, my boy, he thought. He has his own way of doing things, yes, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't care. He couldn't say as much without upsetting his charge, however, so he kept his opinion to himself. "I'll wish you goodnight then, sir."

"Right. Batman out."

He sighed as the call dropped. Irascible child. And you wonder where Master Damian gets it... Setting down the radio handset, he moved over one seat and picked up the phone. It took a bit of transferring for him to reach the right line at the Watchtower, but eventually there was another familiar voice in his ear. "Superman? I imagine you know who this is."

"Yes. What's going on? Has Batman found something?"

"No," he answered drily. "I'm afraid that's the problem." It took only a minute to give the Kryptonian a run-down on the situation at the force field, and as he went on he could practically hear the tension mounting on the other end of the connection. "I think he could do with a bit of sleep, to be honest," he wrapped up, "but the others haven't had anything close to their fair share of rest yet. I know you're terribly busy, but is there any way that you could...?"

"I'll see what I can do. It's calmed down a bit since we got the teams out to the second site, so I should be able to leave for a few hours."

"Thank you." He hesitated. "Since he's extremely unlikely to say this himself, I'll say it for him; he will appreciate your presence. I know he has Master Robin and Flash with him, but I daresay he could do with talking to someone who views Masters Nightwing and Red Robin from a more parental vantage than a fraternal one. It's just a hunch on my part, of course, but there you have it."

"...He's not cracking up up there, is he?"

"Not yet, sir. Not yet." But soon, perhaps, he couldn't stand to say.

"Right. Okay. I'll, ah...I'll do whatever needs done, then. Thanks for the heads up."

"Not at all. Thank you for going to him when I cannot."

"No problem. See you soon, Agent A."

"I sincerely hope so, Superman. Goodbye."

He had performed some service for his charges, at least, he tried to encourage his own drooping spirits as he hung up the phone. It was a small one, but sometimes the little details were what made the difference. The only problem with having finished his miniscule task was that he was now in the same boat – or the same plane, if he wanted to be cheeky about things – as Batman, and had nothing more to do. He could clean, he supposed, but to what purpose? Freshly scrubbed floors would do nothing to help his distant charges. Besides, cleaning was the last thing he wanted to do. What he really wanted...

Tearing his eyes from the monitor that had announced an incoming email a few minutes before, he shook his head. No. Don't fall into the same trap that Bruce did. If you watch that video, you're no more likely to be able to stop easily than he was. He could hardly send it back to the plane for safekeeping if he found himself ensnared by it, after all. It was best not to take the chance.

Still, though...one viewing, just one, might be useful. If it gave him a better idea of the sorts of injuries the boys would be coming home with – and they would come home, he refused to give up hope on that front no matter how doubtful the rest of the world sounded about it – then it was worth the risk. After he watched it just once, he promised himself as he turned on the screen and pulled up the message, he would go back to the medical bay and make sure he had all of the supplies he was going to need in order to patch them up. Just one viewing...

Then the boys appeared before him, and before he knew it many hours had passed.