Working with the JLA was a mixed experience. Sometimes a blessing, sometimes a necessary evil, but always eventful, and the current investigation was no exception. The case started out well within Batman's element, chasing down leads and interrogating suspects to locate the head of a secret organization that managed to operate just within the protections of the law. A typical job for Bruce, but now on a global scale.

Where it took a giant leap sideways was when they closed in on the leader. The suspect turned out to have more backup and resources than the League had bargained for, and his secret base was located in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, guarded by mutated killer whales. While exasperating, it wasn't so dangerous for a team of superheroes to break through, capture the leader and deliver the necessary evidence to the local government authorities, but it was time-consuming. Bruce was forced to cancel his flight to Africa and instructed Lucius Fox to go on ahead and meet Zavimbe without him, assuring the man that he would follow in the company jet as soon as possible and touch down in plenty of time for the Batman Incorporated meeting.

Another all-nighter. Well, the world didn't save itself.

Luckily, the criminal base was much closer to his destination than Gotham, and Wonder Woman offered to drop him off in her invisible jet on her way back to the United States. That, at least, was one thing going right, and Bruce would arrive in Tinasha with two hours to spare before his meeting with Batman Incorporated. Time for some much-needed sleep, assuming his troubled mind would let him rest. Even in the relative quiet of Diana's jet, Bruce couldn't relax.

The day was officially over. Dick and Damian were probably even finished with patrol, with the younger tucked in bed while Batman logged evidence and updated a few case files before turning in himself. The whole day had passed, and Bruce had barely acknowledged it.

That wasn't entirely fair, and he tried to reassure himself that he had called his son, and had been the first to offer congratulations. He'd all but killed himself to get into town for the day, where he did get to spend a few hours with Dick, if in the context of work. He'd missed the party, yes, but that was just a casual family gathering over cake before everyone hit the streets, and as Dick himself had said, they were both adults. They were long past the age where birthday parties were a grand affair that required the world to stop.

But still... Unable to sleep, Bruce turned to Diana. "How much longer until we arrive?"

"About five minutes less than the last time you asked," came the curt reply, but delivered with a paradoxically sweet tone. Diana was strange like that. A fierce warrior serving as an ambassador of peace. She threw cars and had no compunction delivering death to criminals she felt deserved the sentence, but she was on a first name basis with her entire rogues gallery and spoke to them with such kindness and respect, even while strangling them with her lasso. A woman feared, distrusted and even hated by many, including half of the Justice League, even though she was strangely incapable of not loving every single living thing. She smiled and laughed in the midst of the world's ugliness and sometimes held a black mood when those around her saw peace, and Bruce wasn't sure she experienced humanity in the same way the rest of them did.

There were few people Bruce respected more, and few who could maintain that respect while simultaneously engaging his temper. "Is something going on at home, Bruce?" As always, Bruce's Bat-glare had no effect on her. "And don't say you're fine, we all know you're not."

"It's none of your business."

"If it affects your work with the team, it becomes League business," said Wonder Woman. "And I'm the closest thing we have to an HR department, so let me in on the issue, or Clark and I will force you to take a leave of absence." Bruce growled to himself and turned his head away, prompting frustration in the woman next to him. "I'm serious, we'll get Dick back up here! Half the current league are his recruits anyway. I don't see why you can't take a break to deal with whatever's got you stretched to all corners." The mention of Dick caused Bruce to groan.

As much as he didn't want to discuss the issue, he sensed Diana wasn't going to let go. "It's a family problem." Meaning, none of her business, but his companion didn't take the hint, and after more pestering, Bruce gave up. "Do you and Donna ever fight?"

"Of course we do. We're sisters."

"How long do your fights usually last?"

"Not too long, I suppose," Diana mused. "But it always feels like too long." Bruce hadn't been expecting anything else, but his heart still sank a little. Donna Troy had a similar situation to Dick, in a way, being the junior partner. Forever in the shadow of her mentor, even after managing to take the title herself and build her own impressive legacy. There was even some 'back from the grave' issues that they could relate to.

But the situations were radically different as well, and he should have known Diana couldn't truly understand. "Are you and Dick fighting again?" Again. Like it was common. And heaven help Bruce, it was.

"No. Everything's fine." Everything was awful.

Wonder Woman pursed her lips and appeared to be analyzing that information. "Returning from time was a big adjustment, for all of us. You were barely back two minutes before jumping right into crime-fighting and announcing your global Batman project. Do you think you've taken on too much too soon?" Bruce tried to say he had everything under control, only for Diana to roll her eyes at him. "Sure you do. You definitely didn't need to hitch a ride with me. You could have made it to Africa all on your own, missing your flight was deliberate."

"It's not like that," Bruce snapped, even though it was. "Work isn't the problem. I've been managing this schedule for years. It's the only part of my life it's easy."

"Then what's throwing you off your game?" He was asked next. "Because you haven't been the professional, controlled CEO we love and tolerate lately, and Batman hasn't been his usual self, either." She was the third person to say that in the past 24 hours. Was Bruce's inner turmoil really so noticeable? "You said it was a family problem?"

Maybe he did need the help. "Dick's birthday was today. I wanted to spend time with him, but I didn't get the chance. Didn't make a chance," he amended, after a thought. "And I suppose it wouldn't be such a big deal, but I haven't spent much time with him, or any of them, outside of the cowl. Even with case work, we usually talk long-distance."

"It must be hard to be away all the time," Wonder Woman said in a sympathetic voice, and something tightened in Bruce's chest.

"It's normal," he said quietly. "I let that become normal." Even if he was home, he usually pushed all the others away. "Something always comes up." And what was his excuse now? At least he managed to call his son on the right day, and sit down for a few minutes. "I asked him what he wanted for his birthday, and he said he wanted an hour with me."

"Awww..."

"You think it's cute? He could have asked for anything. Why doesn't he want more? He's worth more than that."

"Are you saying that because you actually believe it, or because it's easier for you to give money than time?"

Bruce took a bit of offense to that. "I didn't say one was more important!" He shot back. "But an hour? There's no sacrifice, it's like giving somebody air! He asked for something I barely have to lift a finger for, that's not a gift!"

"If it's so easy, why couldn't you do it?" Good question. "And why does it matter how much effort you put into a gift if, it's what he wants?"

"Gifts should be an expression of how you feel," Bruce said with flushed cheeks. "If it's something ordinary, what's the message there? He only asked for an hour, that's nothing! Why doesn't he want more from me?" But why would he? a voice whispered in Bruce's ear, It's not like you even managed to give him an hour. Dick isn't going to want more of nothing. "Does he think he's not worth more?"

Or did Dick think Bruce and his presents were worthless? "This feels like a conversation you should be having with Dick."

"I've tried," Bruce moaned. "But he said that's what he wants, and I can't even get it right! He always sells himself short and I can't ever make him happy!"

"Did you try giving him what he asked for?"

"Yes!" Did she think he was stupid? "When he was sixteen, I bought a car for his birthday and he didn't like it. I thought it was because I didn't listen to him, so when Christmas came, I got him exactly what he asked for and he still was disappointed!" Every time, and Bruce was scared to think that Dick would have been disappointed even if Bruce managed to spend quality time together this year. "What am I doing wrong?"

"I don't know, have you asked him?"

"He won't say anything! Said he loved that stupid car, but he didn't, Diana! I saw it on his face!" Bruce leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know why, and I don't know why he won't just tell me! It's not like he's ever had a problem expressing his disappointment in me before."

"Why is this so important to you?"

"He's my son. He's the best thing that ever happened to me. I can't even find words to express..." So many feelings in his heart, threatening to burst with every beat. "He doesn't know that. I try to tell him and I mess it up. I try to show him and I miss it up. A gift is a symbol of a person's feelings, but I don't have time to get him what he wants, and anything else would be a letdown." But Bruce had a long history of letting Dick down. "No wonder he thinks he's worth so little. He wasn't even surprised when he found out I had nothing to give him."

Diana was quiet for a moment, and Bruce's mind wandered back to his trip through time. Maybe the gifts weren't the problem, but the giver. How could Bruce's presents mean anything to his sons, if he himself was worthless? He thought back to Boy, in those early days of the Omega-fueled journey. "Man of Bats. I followed you." Bereft of his father, Man. "Who will teach me to be a man now?" Had Bruce? Man asked the bat-like stranger to protect his son, but what became of that young man after Bruce jumped forward in time? Boy jumped to his side, fighting for and with the Batman, but Bruce left Boy with nothing in the end.

Boy, Annie, Jack and all the others, believing him to be someone he wasn't. Bruce disappeared out of their lives as quickly as he entered, with blood and bells in his wake. He was nothing without partners by his side, but he bled those people dry until he finally moved on, and now they were distant memories. Bruce would die without Dick, but he'd shove his son away and burn out the last of his light because he couldn't find a way to change the pattern. He'd become a solitary, friendless bat, while the bells of the All-Over rang in the distance... "Why can't I get this right, Diana? Why can't I do this one, simple thing?"

The princess of Themyscira sighed. "Bruce, you do a lot of good in the world. You have a good life, and a lot of luck." Didn't he know it. After being hit with Omega beams, he could have blown a hole in time, and Wonder Woman was prepared to destroy him for the godlike power he'd amassed over his trip. If Red Robin hadn't broken through to him, she would have done what was necessary. "And all of it needs you. Gotham, the League, Batman Incorporated, your family and your company. They're all good, and not a single one is expendable. But you have to decide," she explained with a stern voice, the one Bruce sometimes found preachy. "Maybe Dick will disappear if you miss one birthday, maybe he won't. Maybe the world will explode if Batman doesn't solve the mystery, or maybe your board of directors will kick you out if you cancel a meeting. You're the only one who can decide what takes priority at the moment, and if you're willing to risk neglecting something for too long."

"How is that supposed to help?"

"It's not. You need to grow up and make your own decisions. Mommy and Daddy aren't around tell you what to do anymore."

Bruce's eyes narrowed into a glare darker than space. "How dare you..."

"Excuse me?" Diana replied with eyes darker than twin black holes, somehow out-glaring the bat. "You don't have the monopoly on losing parents, Bruce Wayne." That hurt, but if Bruce thought it an unfair criticism, Diana didn't look like she cared. "You want people to tell you what to do, it takes the responsibility off of your shoulders. Makes it easier to live with missing a birthday party, or a board meeting, or a mission. If other people have a problem with your choice, it's not your fault." She turned back to the jet controls with a huff. "But you already know what you want to do. So do it."

"Thanks, Princess, great advice," Bruce drawled, for all Diana noticed the sarcasm.

"Sorry to be harsh, but you're complaining about your priorities like they're not within your control. They are. You've had the Batman version of 'It's A Wonderful Life', doesn't that give you some perspective?"

Bruce had to raise an eyebrow at that. "You Amazons know 'It's A Wonderful Life'?"

"Clark, Etta, Dick, Donna, Wally," Diana rolled her eyes. "Even Steve. If it was a sentimental classic, I guarantee I've seen it. But you've seen evidence of a life without you, now. Wasn't there anything you wanted to change?"

"Of course there was," Bruce replied. "But this is less Frank Capra and more 'Our Town'." After death, the main character of that play got to go back to one day in her life, but nothing could change, nothing affected, and all without the blissful ignorance of the living. It was a torture for her, overwhelmed by the value of life in every single second, that the living never realized. Bruce thought he understood now, enough for it to hurt, but the cares and minute perspectives of mortality narrowed his view. He wasn't remembering to value life every minute, but he did have a perfect awareness of how those minutes were racing by. With every hour, a bell tolled and time raced forward. "It's not that easy."

"Why not?" She said that so easily. As if Bruce hadn't spent his whole life trying.

And now, with his very unique experiences behind him, she dared to trivialize his dilemma? Diana said herself, all of Bruce's responsibilities were noble and all of them needed him.

But something had to give, and Bruce knew where he wanted to be right now. He knew where he wanted to be hours ago.

Bruce took his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Lucius, purposefully trying to numb himself against all the other thoughts swirling in his head. The purring tone before the line picked up was the most anxiety-ridden sound Bruce had heard in a long while, like a thousand little bells... "Bruce? Good to hear from you, what's your ETA?"

"There's been a delay. I need you to handle things with Ba and Zavimbe until I get there."

"What kind of delay? You know far better than me what Batman's operation requires. My input isn't half as valuable."

"Just show them the costume and gear specs our Batman currently uses and discuss which elements might not be practical for their situation. We can expand on that and set up the financial assistance when I arrive. I'll only be held back a day, at most." There was some more business talk, and then Bruce hung up the phone with shaking hands. Just a few words, and yet it felt so monumental.

This was his pet project, his dream, the ultimate end of all his efforts since Joe Chill held up a gun in Crime Alley. The safety of the world, symbols of hope and justice spread across a global scale, and Bruce was bailing. Just tossing the reins into the air and not even looking to see if Lucius was in a position to catch them. It was rude to his business partner, his colleagues, to Batwing and the other clients he intended to meet with. Bruce wasn't used to shirking his responsibilities, he was used to taking on more and more while leaving nothing overlooked.

But that was never more than an illusion. "Diana, would you please turn the plane around?" The woman next to him smiled.

"Next stop, Gotham City."

The house was quiet when Bruce arrived at Wayne Manor. He didn't expect anyone to be home, with Dick, Damian and Alfred residing in the penthouse, so he let himself in with a key he luckily remembered to carry. He went straight to his room, intent on getting some much-needed sleep after his long week, but couldn't quite commit himself to that. After all, he still had no gift for his son's now-belated birthday, and he needed time to think of something. He knew what Dick wanted, and he intended to deliver, even if it was no longer the actual birthday, but that wasn't enough for Bruce. Just time wasn't enough, it would never be enough.

But what would? Bruce sat on his bed and let his eyes fall to a painting on the wall. It was a family treasure, painted by Bruce's uncle, his mother's brother. The man loved to work in monochromes, finding beauty in black and white images, and in the blends of grays. This painting depicted the Gotham skyline, with a beautiful sunrise that evoked all the beauty and awe that any colored image would, alongside the striking play of black against white. It was given as a gift on the day Bruce was born.

"Father?" The voice of his youngest son shook the billionaire from his thoughts, and Bruce turned toward his bedroom door to see a very surprised Damian. "I thought you were in Africa."

"Change of plans," Bruce said, and then the two of them ran out of words.

The silence stretched on.

"Oh," Damian finally said to fill the void. "Well, welcome back."

"Thanks." Both of them were resisting the urge to fidget. "What are you doing here? I thought you would've gone back home after patrol." Did he really just say that? How did it come out so easily, and when did he start thinking of his son's home as being in a different place than his?

"A local biochemist attempted to a unleash a virus upon the city. We stopped it in time, but some of the evidence was contaminated and now the bunker is under quarantine. It should only be for a few days, if we're in the way."

"You're never in the way, Damian." Bruce loved the look on his son's face when he said that. He hated that it needed to be said at all. "Is Dick around, too?"

Damian snickered a little. "Batman got infected with the virus. I administered the antidote immediately and he's recovering in his old room. I might have overestimated the dosage a bit, he hasn't been exactly lucid."

"Fear not, sir. A good night's sleep should leave the young master with little more than a headache," Alfred reassured as he entered the room. The butler spared a look at Damian, and raised an eyebrow. "As for the youngest master, I believe you should also be in your room, asleep."

"I heard noises," Damian protested, but obediently left the room after offering a rushed 'Goodnight' to his father.

Bruce watched him go, then turned to Alfred. "Sorry to drop in suddenly like this."

"It is your house, sir. But forgive me if I haven't properly turned your room over."

"I haven't had a full night sleep in over a week. You could turn it upside down, and I wouldn't care." He smiled at his old friend. "Everything else go okay tonight?"

"As far as I know, all young vigilantes made it safely to their beds. Master Dick may have taken a scenic route, but his situation is not so much dire as it is comical."

"Oh?"

"In his own words, the antidote has left him feeling a little 'Lucy in the sky with diamonds'." Bruce couldn't help but laugh, even if being sick on one's birthday was a little pitiable. "He should be asleep now, but I imagine you'll want to check on him."

"You know me too well." After a quick discussion of Bruce's itinerary for the next day, which could be summarized as 'no idea', Bruce left the study and made his way down the hall to Dick's room. As reported, Dick was sleeping, and Bruce felt a fond smile creeping to his face at the sight. How grown-up his little boy had become, and still so adorable and childlike while sleeping. The world might call him Batman now, but Dick would always be his little Robin.

Almost unconsciously, Bruce reached out to brush some hair from Dick's eyes. "Heard you had a rough night, chum. I hope you didn't take too many risks out there." Who was Bruce kidding? Every time they stepped out of the cave was a chance they might not come back. He used to bench Robin for being injured by the likes of Two-Face and the Joker, and now he had shoved the cowl at his oldest son and charged him with all of Gotham City? "I guess I take you for granted sometimes. Don't you go doing the same thing to yourself. If anything ever happened to you..." Dick began to stir, and Bruce pulled his hand away as the young man blinked his sleepy and somewhat glassy eyes.

Dick looked up with a tired but contented smile. "Missed you, B." Bruce felt a lump growing his throat.

"I'm sorry. I wanted to stay, but the League needed me." Excuses. Possibly valid, but preceded by so many others that it didn't matter. "I'm here now."

Dick yawned, "That's good. I told my dad he could be Batman. That okay?"

It took Bruce a minute to digest that. "You're dreaming. Or hallucinating." Maybe both. But Dick just hummed and closed his eyes, snuggling into his pillows.

"That's fine. I like talking to you. I'm glad you're back." Another yawn broke through, giving Bruce a second to control the sudden onslaught of sentiment. "Mom wants to be Catwoman. You gotta make her stop. It's creepy." That killed the moment, and Bruce ruffled Dick's hair with a small laugh that grew louder when Dick try to clumsily swat him away.

"Get some sleep. I'll talk to you in the morning, when the drugs are out of your system." He said that, but Bruce didn't move, frozen at his son's bedside. After second of indecision, he leaned forward and whispered in Dick's ear, "I do love you. You know that, right?"

Dick nodded into his pillow. "You wrote that on my cupcake." Even a drug-fueled dream was a more attentive father than Bruce had been.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you a real present."

"Was a really good cupcake."

Bruce didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "I wanted to get you something better. Something real. But I messed up."

"No you didn't. I love cupcakes." Dick struggled to lift his head a bit and Bruce gently pushed him back down. "You give great presents. Just like dad." High praise, indeed.

"What sorts of things did he give you?" In truth, Bruce was looking for ideas, so he wouldn't have to face Dick in the morning with his hands still empty.

He wasn't prepared for the answer. "He gave me you." Bruce thought he was going to asphyxiate then and there. "I didn't like that at first, but now I do." And after one more enormous yawn, Dick rolled over and went to sleep for good. Bruce only sat, ramrod straight, and waited for his heart to get over the shock. Dick always had a knack for dropping bombs in the middle of a conversation, but this was somehow more earth shattering.

As soon as his lungs remembered how to take in air, Bruce rose up and escaped into the hallway. He didn't stop until he was safe in his room again, door shut against the guilt and intangible fear. What had Bruce ever done to warrant such a statement? He didn't deserve to replace John Grayson, for all he might wish otherwise, and Dick should have known that. After falling short time after time, accidentally and even deliberately causing emotional harm, why was he still held in such high regard?

Oh, God, what if I broke him? Bruce panicked for a second. What if I made him so pathologically dependent that he doesn't even recognize he's being hurt? Did that make their relationship abusive?

There was a knock behind him, and Bruce shakily turned and opened the door to meet Alfred. "Some freshly fluffed pillows, sir. If you need nothing else, I believe I'll turn in for the night."

"Wait, Alfred," Bruce stopped the butler, though he wrung his hands and stammered a bit before coming to the point. "Do I... that is... would you say Dick... or any of them... Do I hurt them?"

"Sir?"

"I know, of course I hurt them, but would you say..." he trailed off, mostly because Alfred's face told him the older man understood perfectly.

"I believe I've already said my piece on that subject, Master Bruce. If I felt the need to involve authorities, rest assured, I would have," the butler said as he replaced pillows on the master bed. "Concerning your domestic lives, of course. As far as your night work goes, I'm resigned to spend my afterlife in purgatory." Bruce frowned, but said nothing. "What prompted this sudden crisis of conscience?"

"I still don't have a gift for Dick's birthday." Alfred looked dumbfounded. "He doesn't even care. Why doesn't he want me? He asked for so little anyway, why doesn't he want more of me?" Remembering Dick's extreme words from earlier, "Why does he want me? I can't even get him a good present."

With a long-suffering sigh, Alfred placed a hand on his employer's shoulder. "Perhaps you should sleep on this problem, Master Bruce. You might find your thoughts connecting properly with adequate rest."

"I don't need to sleep, I need to-"

"Forgive me sir, but you do. I fear you have completely lost perspective and can't see the forest for the trees. Get some rest," he ordered amidst protest, "And if things don't become any clearer for you, I will be happy to discuss this with you then." Though Bruce didn't agree, Alfred's tone refused all argument and he shooed his charge off to change and begin nighttime toiletries.

Bruce wasn't sure if he'd be able to sleep with all the thoughts clouding his head, but he had no choice but to obey. When he stepped out of the Master bath, he found Alfred still in his room, gazing at the painting of the black and white Gotham sunrise.

When he heard his master's step behind him, Alfred turned away from the painting. "You remember why your uncle created this? Your mother also worried about her ability to raise a child in this world. Afraid all her good works would distract her from the child that could never be rescheduled when responsibilities clashed."

"I think she did all right," Bruce defended, even if his perspective was biased and the limited one of an eight-year-old.

"She would be grateful to hear so, I'm sure." Alfred gave his charge an encouraging smile. "Go to bed, Master Bruce, and take heart. Tomorrow is a new day, full of new beginnings." The butler left, and Bruce got into bed, his eyes on the painting and his mind on all the conversations he'd had that day. An idea began to take root.

With a smile on his face, Bruce finally allowed himself to drop to sleep, excited to face the next day. He now knew the perfect gift to give his son...