I didn't expect this chapter to turn into a Daddy Bruce moment . . . Okay, so then we have another couple of chapters to go. My short stories are seldom ever actually short. Enjoy the fluffy goodness of another one of Bruce's early forays into the mystical realm of fatherhood. ;D

Watch for POV changes. Mostly flipping back and forth between Bruce and Dick.

Warning: Some Language . . .

Alfred held the door to the study open; searching the night for signs of the master and the child. He had only a glimpse of the terrifying vision that sent Bruce scrambling out through the boy's window and into the storm.

Young Master Dick facing down an enormous black wolf!

Dear Lord! And he had suggested all this time that the child had been merely dreaming! Whatever had possessed the boy to seek out the creature alone? Surely not to somehow prove the animal's existence! How would he live with himself should the child be killed by the wild beast?

Minutes passed and Alfred grew more worried. He had swung by his room and retrieved his shotgun. Checking to see if it was loaded, the butler had only just decided to brave the elements to rescue Master Bruce and the boy, when he saw the bobbing beam of light shining from beyond the far side of the maze.

Seconds later, Master Bruce tore around the corner, clutching the boy in his arms. He slid in the saturated grass; one hand shooting out to catch himself, somehow managing to keep his footing. Alfred stepped onto the patio; raising his gun in preparation for whatever hell was nipping at their heels, but thankfully nothing appeared.

The master barreled past him and into the warmth and safety of the study. Alfred stepped in behind them and shut the door; turning the deadbolt and punching in the code to rearm the security system. He dropped the draperies; as anxious as the room's other two occupants to block out the terrors of the night.

Bruce knelt and set Dick onto the sofa as Alfred moved to stir up the banked fire. His hands were shaking from fear and the cold as he shoved the child's wet hair out of his face and began scanning the boy for injuries.

"Oh, I say," Alfred's voice came to him. "Were you forced to engage the animal after all, sir?"

"I . . . ah, no, Alfred. It was close, but we were able to get away without resorting to a confrontation," Bruce assured the older man.

"Then where, pray tell, did this blood come from?" Alfred laid his hand on Bruce's shoulder.

"What?"

Bruce tugged on his sweater and turned his head to see what it was his butler was talking about. Sure enough, there was a patch of bright red over his left shoulder. He couldn't remember doing anything to have caused himself injury during his reckless dash to reach Dick. And if it didn't come from him, then . . .

"Where are you hurt?" Bruce snapped the question; regretting it when the boy winced and pulled away. He asked again in a softer tone. "Dickie, please, I need to see. Did the wolf scratch or bite you?"

Dick was holding his hand against his red jacket; the color of the material doing its job in hiding any blood. Bruce's breathing was not quite back to normal yet. He blew his breath out in an effort to further calm himself. The boy was obviously terrified. He reached for the child's hand, but Dick pulled back.

"Dick, there's a chance that the wolf might have been sick. Let me see your hand," Bruce spoke calmly, but firmly. He held his hand out, but was careful not to reach for the boy this time. He would wait for the child to come to him.

Dick held his hand tight against his belly.

How could he be so wrong? He could have gotten Bruce killed, just like his parents! CPS would come and take him back to the detention center, but this time they would leave him there forever for hurting the people around him!

If his fingers were hurt, it was only what he deserved! Tears of shame and terror flooded his eyes now that they were both safe.

"Dick, let me see your hand," Bruce's voice changed from coaxing to commanding.

He loosened his hold and let his hand fall to his lap. He didn't have the strength to give it to him directly. Bruce must have understood because he picked up Dick's hand and gently turned it over.

"Ouch, buddy," He hissed in sympathy. "Does it hurt?"

It didn't . . . at least, it hadn't until Bruce said something. His hand was beginning to warm up enough for him to feel something other than numbness. The sting was sharp.

"It's okay," he mumbled around the lump in his throat. "It was an accident."

His two middle fingertips had a couple of gouges along the pads from where Bruce . . . He meant the wolf had nipped him while taking the sandwich out of his hand. They weren't deep, but it was enough to bleed freely.

"Dick, why did you go outside," Bruce asked; his upset and frustration were making his voice harsh again. "Why the devil would you confront a wild animal all by yourself? It might have killed you!"

Dick bit his lip. He didn't want to answer. His reasons sounded so stupid now, but they hadn't yesterday! They had made sense then. Tears leaked out, despite his best efforts to withhold them, and dripped onto his wet jacket. Rather than answer, Dick shook his head; the motion loosening up a few more tears that rolled down his face. He quickly scrubbed away the evidence before Bruce could see it because . . . only babies cried.

Bruce sighed and began unzipping the boy's jacket. "Come on, then, chum. Let's get you out of those wet clothes before you catch pneumonia."

Alfred had returned from wherever he had gone. Dick hadn't even noticed the man had left the room until he was laying down fresh pajamas and socks, a robe and slippers for Bruce, and a first aid kit on the sofa next to him.

"Let's see what you've done to yourself, Master Richard," Alfred tsked quietly. He reached for Dick's hand. "We should have Dr. Leslie take a look at your fingers." Alfred then spoke to Bruce. "It's imperative that we capture that wolf, sir, and have it tested for rabies. Otherwise, Master Richard will have no choice, but to go through taking the entire series of shots as a precaution."

"No!" Dick jerked his hand away. "No! Leave it alone! Leave me alone! I hope my hand falls off!"

He rolled to his feet and flipped over the back of the sofa. He was out the door and running for his room while the two men gaped at his retreating back in surprise.

"Dick!" Bruce jumped up. "Come back here, young man!" But he was talking to air as Dick disappeared through the door.

Alfred placed a calming hand on Bruce's arm. "Patience, Master Bruce. The boy just went through a very traumatic experience. We must ascertain what sort of thoughts are going on in his head. For some reason, I believe he feels responsible for this whole debacle."

Bruce sighed. "What do you suggest I do? He must have those fingers tended to tonight. He needs a warm bath and a warm bed and . . . Ah hell! What am I doing, Alfred? I have no business taking in a child. I have no clue what this boy needs."

"On the contrary, Master Bruce, you seem to have a decent grasp on the situation at the moment," Alfred soothed. "A warm bath is exactly what the boy needs. His fingers can easily be cleaned in the tub, and as the gouges are small, Band-Aids should be sufficient to take care of those injuries for tonight. After a good night's sleep, I am certain the young sir should feel more the thing in the morning light."

"I don't understand, Alfred," Bruce looked despairingly at the older man.

The butler, however, understood perfectly. The master was worried about his young charge and that was as it should be.

"You are doing fine, sir. You saved his life. That would be a step in the right direction, I would wager. And perhaps, once he is settled, the boy will be more inclined to answer your questions," Alfred assured him. "If not, then perhaps on the morrow. Either way, it might be a good idea for one of us to remain with him tonight."

"One of us meaning me," Bruce correctly surmised.

"Indeed, sir," Alfred told him. "Most assuredly it should be you."

Dick slammed the door to his room and started to throw himself on the bed, but stopped just short of it. He was soaking. He had already caused so much trouble tonight, he didn't want to create more work for Alfred. Dick started stripping off his wet clothing.

He pulled open the drawer and saw the clothing that Alfred had purchased for him. He tugged open another and saw more new stuff mixed in with some of his own clothes. Dick pulled out a t-shirt and a pair of jeans that his mother had bought him this past fall, and slipped those on. His jacket was still too wet to put back on, so Dick hung it up in the bathroom to dry.

He grabbed Eleanor, his elephant, and the picture of his parents and sat down in the corner of the room. He tucked his bare feet under him to keep them warm, and finally . . . finally allowed himself to cry, albeit silently.

"I ruined everything," he told the picture. "There's no way either of them will want me to stay now. They will probably send me back to the detention center tomorrow, but I can't go back there!" Dick hiccupped. "I just can't!

And he wouldn't! It would be better to be out on his own than back in that awful place!

Dick scrambled up to his feet. He had carried his backpack upstairs with him, although he hadn't remembered doing it. He pulled the soiled towel out of it, started stuffing into it everything he had brought with him. He couldn't find his socks, though. Alfred had thrown them away when he had bought Dick the new ones.

Dick shoved his feet back into his wet shoes; clenching his teeth against the cold. He would just have to go without. He refused to take any of the new stuff with him. Bruce could give it to a more deserving little boy.

"Why did you have to go and leave me?" Dick whispered to the picture of his parents as he shoved them on top of everything else. It would have been better had he not hesitated on that night two months ago, but leapt out and joined them. At least then they would all have been together.

Bruce was nearly to the boy's door when it opened and Dick's head popped out. He gasped upon seeing Bruce, but then a look of determination crossed his face. He moved out into the hall; his backpack in his hand and still wearing the damp red jacket.

"Whoa there, sport," Bruce said, catching the back of the jacket when Dick tried to dart around him. "Where are you going?"

"Let go," Dick yelled; squirming. "I'm not going back there! I'm not!"

"Back where?"

The boy was slick. Bruce struggled to keep a hold of him. Dick unzipped the jacket and slid out of it; leaving Bruce standing in the hall holding nothing but the damp material. Dick started running for the stairs, tugging his backpack on even with Bruce hot on his heels.

"Dick, wait! Hold up!"

Bruce was almost to him; was reaching for him when Dick, instead of heading down the stairs, leapt onto the bannister and then propelled himself into the air above the foyer. His hands stretched out in front of him, Dick caught hold of the chandelier, swung once and then flipped twice. His feet landed on the round table that decorated the entryway; rattling the floral arrangement, but then the boy leapt again before it could overbalance. With another forward flip; the boy landed neatly on the floor just a couple of feet from the front door.

Bruce's mouth dropped open at the daring move, but he didn't stop. Instead, he hurtled himself over the bannister; rolling on his landing and coming up onto his feet in one smooth move to dart after the boy. Truth be told, he might not have caught up to him as quickly if the child could have managed to open the front door. When presented with the idea that Dick might be sleepwalking yesterday, Bruce had implemented a secondary protocol that required a code in order to open the outside doors and ground floor windows of the manor, even from the inside.

After today, come Monday, he planned to add electronic locks to the second and third floor windows as well.

"Dick," Bruce began as he grabbed the child's arm.

"No! You aren't sending me back," Dick yelled in a panic. He didn't even think, but lashed out automatically.

Dick twisted in Bruce's grip and ran up (Ran Up!) his guardian's body; stepping first on the man's leg, then his abdomen, and finally his chest before kicking Bruce in the chin. Startled and unprepared for such an action, he let go of the boy as Dick flipped back onto his feet. Then, sliding neatly between the man's legs, Dick took off in another direction.

Bruce staggered, one hand rubbing his bruised chin, and turned to stare in amazement at the fleeing boy. The kid packed one hell of a wallop! He shook his head and gave chase.

The boy led him on a merry one at that, all throughout the house, as Dick tried two more doors and a window before giving up and heading back to his room. Each confrontation, the child managed to perform a different aerial or contortion maneuver that enabled him to slip free or to evade capture altogether. As Bruce caught up to him on the steps, he grabbed Dick's backpack only to have the boy slide his arms out of it. When Bruce pursued him back into his room, Dick leapt onto the window seat and pushed open the casement window.

"Dick, stop! Please," Bruce called out as the child stepped one foot out into the freezing weather.

The sleet had made the change into snow during the last half hour and now coated the ledge in white. The boy wouldn't find traversing it as easily now as he had previously. Bruce held up his backpack and unzipped it; yanking out the picture of his parents and Dick's toy elephant. Bruce let the bag drop; retaining the only two items that the boy deemed valuable.

"You wouldn't want to leave without these," Bruce told him.

Dick, upon seeing the icy ledge, had hesitated. He glanced back over his shoulder at his guardian, and bit his lip. The man held his most prized possessions out temptingly.

"Give them back," he begged; his anxiety making his voice crack.

"You can have them," Bruce promised. "Just come back inside. It's too cold, and you no longer even have a jacket."

Dick didn't move. They were both panting from their exertion.

"I won't go back there," he told him. "I'd rather take my chances on the streets than go back to that place."

"The streets would be the first to send you back," Bruce told him simply. "You are talking about the detention center, aren't you?"

Dick nodded once.

"Son, whatever gave you the idea that I would send you back there? That place isn't meant for someone like you. It's meant for troubled teens who run afoul the law; not for little boys who have lost their families," Bruce explained carefully.

"Everything," Dick whispered.

"What?" Bruce's eyebrows drew together as he tried to hear the boy over the whistling of the wind.

"Everything!" Dick screamed at him suddenly. "I've lost everything!" Dick's face crumpled as the first tears Bruce had seen the boy shed since the night of his parents' death escaped the emotional dam and streamed down the boy's cheeks.

Bruce shook his head. "No! No, you haven't," he corrected. "You haven't lost me. Or Alfred . . . Dick, we brought you here because we wanted you here. Safe . . . with us."

"But not forever," Dick cried. "I'm just here until Zucco gets caught, and then they'll take me back."

"But not to the detention center," Bruce corrected him. "CPS would find you a nice family . . ."

"I don't want some nice family! I want . . . I want . . ." Dick choked on a sob.

"You want your family back," Bruce finished for him. "I know, and I'm sorry, Dickie. You cannot know how sorry I am that I can't give you back everything that you've lost. I know it's not much, but I want to try to find you the next best thing."

"You mean you want to send me away," Dick said, miserably. "What makes you think anyone else would want me if you don't even want me. I'm just some gypsy tramp."

"Don't say that," Bruce snapped at him. "Don't ever say that!"

Dick's foot shifted on the snowy ledge, and Bruce held out his hands, beseechingly. "That's not true; what you said. Please, just come inside. Let's you and I talk this over in here, where it's safe and warm."

Dick shook his head. "You don't want me. You can't want me. I-I should have jumped," he said, suddenly. "I was supposed to have jumped just before the wires broke. Why didn't I jump when I was supposed to? At least then we could have all been together!"

"No! No, no, Dick. That's not what they would have wanted for you," Bruce was getting desperate. Where was Alfred? He needed Alfred!

"And they wanted this for me?" Dick cried out, waving his arm in the air. "This . . . this nothingness? This world doesn't want me! It doesn't need me! I'm nothing but a bunch of trouble here. . ." His voice fading.

"I want you!" Bruce declared. He was as startled as the boy was, but he wasn't lying. It was true. "I want you, Dick. I need you."

"But not forever," the boy insisted; shaking his head. "Just until they can find another place for me."

Forever . . . It didn't seem like such a long time to Bruce anymore. It was beginning to sound pretty good. He wondered briefly if that was his fatigue talking, though. The boy had led him a merry chase all right, but it was worth it, he thought. Dick was worth it!

"You're not a bunch of trouble."

Dick stared at him disbelieving. "How can you say that after tonight?"

Bruce smiled. "I'll agree that tonight was unusual, but it doesn't matter because you're worth it."

"B-But I almost got you killed tonight!" Dick exclaimed.

"But you didn't," Bruce told him. "I'm not that easy to get rid of, you know."

"Y-You weren't going to send me back in the morning?" Dick asked hesitantly.

"No! Of course not! Alfred and I want you here," Bruce insisted. He took a step forward now that he felt that the boy wouldn't try to run from him again.

"But not for- . . ." Dick cut off from what he was going to say.

"Forever?" Bruce finished for him. "Is that what you want, Dick? Do you want to stay here with me . . . and with Alfred, forever?"

Dick stood frozen on the ledge. Snow glistened in his hair; turning it white, and he was beginning to shiver again. Bruce began to wonder if the child was going to answer him at all.

"Maybe . . ." The word slipped out quietly. Dick was panting again, like he had been holding his breath while he had thought about his answer. "I mean, if it's okay with you . . . and with Alfred.'

"I think it would be more than okay," Bruce told him.

A tiny smile flickered on Dick's face. "Really? Do you really mean that?"

Bruce hesitated for only a second. Did he really mean that? The answer was surprisingly easy to come by.

"Yes, Dickie, I really do," he smiled back. "Now, come back inside before you freeze into a Popsicle."

As Dick shifted his weight, his back foot slipped on the ledge and he went down; his knee striking the ledge before it, too, slipped off. Dick landed on his stomach with a grunt; his hands scrabbling for purchase on the window sill, but his fingers had grown clumsy and slow while he stood in the cold. The boy's eyes widened when he realized that he was going to fall.

Bruce lunged across the space and grabbed the boy's wrist; thrusting his upper body through the opening in his effort to catch the child. For one split second, Dick dangled above the snow-covered, cobblestone patio before Bruce managed to haul him up.

Bruce dragged him back into the room, and they slid down onto the floor in a heap; limp and weak as the tremendous surge of adrenaline crashed just as quickly as it had come. Bruce clutched the boy to his chest as terror and relief warred within him for several long minutes.

After a little while, Dick began to squirm.

"Uh, Bruce?" He gasped. "I can't breathe."

Bruce started laughing as he eased his steel-like grip on the boy. "Sorry about that, chum. Are you okay?"

"I-I think so," Dick adjusted his position, but didn't crawl out of Bruce's lap. Instead, he leaned his head on the man's chest and sighed.

Bruce stretched back over the edge of the window seat; careful not to dislodge his occupant as he reached behind him. He pulled the window closed with one hand. His other hand remained wrapped around the boy, albeit loosely now. They sat like that for a while. So long, in fact, that Bruce began to think that maybe Dick had fallen asleep, but then the boy spoke.

"I'm sorry for kicking you," he whispered.

Bruce smirked as he rubbed his chin. It was still smarting. He shrugged. "It's okay. But that was some kind of impressive technique you have there."

Dick craned his neck to look up at the man. "Technique?"

"Fighting style," Bruce clarified.

Dick's face scrunched up in confusion. "I wasn't trying to fight you. I was just trying to get away."

Bruce pursed his lips as the notion that what he had witnessed tonight had been nothing but the child's own natural instincts. Damn! Imagine what the boy could accomplish with a little bit of training . . .

He quickly shoved that ridiculous thought aside. "So, are you ready to tell me why you crawled through your window to go confront a wild animal?"

Dick was quiet for a long moment, and then he shrugged his shoulders. "I . . . uh, I kind of thought he was you."

Bruce blinked. He wasn't sure what sort of answer he was expecting, but that wasn't it!

"Explain," he said.

"It sounds so stupid now," Dick ducked his head; tucking his face close to Bruce's chest.

"It obviously wasn't stupid to you when you decided to go."

"I . . ." the boy sighed. "I thought you were a werewolf," Dick whispered.

Bruce blinked again. "A . . . What?"

"You kept disappearing every evening, and then, the wolf would appear," Dick leaned back to explain. "And in the morning you knew I had opened my window when only the wolf and I knew about that. And then you knew I went out into the garden last night when it was only the wolf and I as well."

"Wait! Hold up!" Bruce stared at the boy in disbelief. "Are you telling me that you met with the wolf last night as well?"

Dick ducked his head again, and nodded. "I thought he was you," he explained again.

"Dear God," Bruce gasped at the thought that the boy might have been mauled by that animal the night before. "How did you manage to do that without the animal attacking you?"

Dick shrugged again. "I suppose I might have fed him some of my dinner."

Bruce thought back. "We had steak. You fed the wolf steak?"

"He seemed to really like it, just like you did," Dick grinned suddenly, but then grew thoughtful. "But he seemed hungry still after that, so I promised him that I would come back tonight with more."

"Hungry?" Bruce repressed a shudder. "You didn't consider that he might have eaten you?"

"I thought about that. But then this rabbit came out of nowhere, and when the wolf took off after it, I ran back here," Dick told him.

"And you still went back out there tonight?"

"Of course," Dick looked up at him seriously. "I promised."

Bruce slumped back against the window seat. "You confronted what you thought was a werewolf . . . You thought I was a werewolf, and you still wanted to stay here with me and Alfred? I'm surprise that you weren't scared of me?"

"Maybe a little in the beginning . . . when I first decided that you must be the wolf," Dick admitted. "But you had plenty of opportunities to eat me before then and you didn't, so I thought that maybe you were a nice werewolf, and that Alfred kept you fed up enough that you wouldn't go around eating regular people."

Bruce was nodding slightly, still in a shocked stupor, but then something Dick said caught his attention.

"Regular people? As opposed to unusual people?"

Dick leaned back against Bruce's chest; snuggling even. Bruce allowed his arms to pull the boy closer; being careful this time not to squish the lad.

"Yeah," Dick agreed happily. "Regular people like me as opposed to unusual people like Catwomen."

Bruce's jaw dropped. "Where did you hear about Catwoman?"

Dick yawned, feeling sleepy now that he was finally getting warm. "I overheard you talking to Alfred about fighting with her all night." He blinked up at his guardian. "Why were you fighting a Catwoman? Is she anything like a werewolf?"

Bruce blew out a startled breath. "Uh, I think that is a conversation for another day, chum," he said; thankful that the boy seemed as exhausted as Bruce himself was feeling. "How about we get you changed into some warm pajamas, and clean up those fingers so they don't fall off; then we can get you tucked up into bed for the night?"

Dick yawned so big his jaw cracked. "Okay," he mumbled; making no move to get up from his nice, warm spot in Bruce's lap. "Bruce?"

"Hm?" Bruce rumbled.

"I don't really hope my hand falls off," the boy sighed.

Bruce smiled. "It will be okay, Dickiebird," he murmured. "Go to sleep, and don't worry your head about it. I think I can handle this part just fine on my own."

Climbing to his feet; Bruce moved the child to the bed. It took a little finagling as the boy had indeed fallen asleep, but eventually Dick was changed into his new flannel pajamas and wrapped up in his blankets; two large Band-Aids finally gracing the boy's freshly-cleaned fingers.

He would call Leslie tomorrow after he got a hold of animal control. If they could capture the beast, they could have it tested; otherwise, Dick would have no choice, but to go through a series of rabies shots. The animal didn't appear to be rabid, but he refused to take chances with the boy's health.

Pulling up the upholstered chair; Bruce placed his feet on the edge of Dick's bed. Although he didn't believe the boy would try to run away again, Bruce thought he would be able to sleep a little better remaining close by . . . just in case the child had a bad dream, he told himself.

REACTIONS?

Yeah, Bruce . . . Just in case Dick had a bad dream. Right. Keep telling yourself that.

Okay, my fault . . . I should have double-checked my facts about the rabies treatment. I was going by memory (faulty one, at that). I thought you had a little time before the rabies treatment would become necessary. You know, like a few days to a week, BUT turns out that treatment should begin ASAP (i.e., the first day), and with shots given intramuscularly (with some infusion of the human rabies immune globulin at the site of the bite - think in the bite wound - and then the rest of it in the muscle close to it (2). Then also shot of the actual rabies vaccine (1).) the first day - You're probably looking at 3 shots the first day. Then a shot of the vaccine on day 3, day 7, and day 14.

For the story purposes, Dick will receive the treatment the next morning. :P