Author's Note: Dick's POV as he waits up for Bruce to return from another extended solo mission under radio silence. Enjoy.

Waiting Room

Bruce has been on a mission for almost four weeks. Radio silence, of course. He said between two and four weeks. He said…he promised me, he'd be back by now. But it's almost midnight and he still isn't home. I haven't slept well since he left. My appetite left me at the three-week mark. I can't think straight at school or keep up appearances. Or at least I keep telling myself that: somehow, my grades are still holding, my friends still like me and, even if I haven't slept well or eaten much, I've done enough of both to keep going steady. It's not like I have a choice. If the world stopped every time the big man left, it'd probably never start again. So we manage, me and Alfie. We keep everything ticking over, patrols included. We try and forget he's out there, alone. We don't go as far to remember only the good times with him as if he's dead, but there are some close calls.

Tonight is one of them. I'm stood by the living room window, looking out on the front of the house. Imaginary cars I guess. Sometimes I convince myself I hear an engine humming in the distance, see a flicker of headlights. But I don't know how he's going to show up again…if he even does. Alfie's clueless too. Could be the front of the house like a normal person. Could be the cave. Could be in a coffin…

Shit. That has to stop. Think positive Dicky: think…anything but another funeral. Bruce doesn't die. Nobody can kill him: how many times has he cheated death? A thousand times? A million? Only takes one though…and then…

Nothing left but a box. And pain. I bite down on my bottom lip. I don't need to revisit my parents' funeral now. Not now. Come on…give me a damn break. Please. This is not that moment. They don't deserve to share my headspace. Bruce is fine. He's fine, he's fine, he's totally, absolutely, perfectly…

"You should be in bed, Master Dick." I just about wrench my eyes from the window to look at Alfie. He's stood in the doorway, dressing gown and slippers on. He's got black coffee in his hand, the strong stuff: I can smell it from across the whole room.

"I think we're both pulling an all-nighter, Alfie." I tell him with a smile that literally can only be crushingly sad in the circumstances. He gives me the same smile back. We both hide it well, but we're worried about him. How can you not be worried about that man? We can say otherwise, but Bruce is my dad and Alfie's son. We kind of…need him to be here. Always.

"If that is the case, please at least come away from the window. We might as well make ourselves comfortable while we wait." The old man says motioning for me to join him in sitting on the sofa. I sigh but reluctantly go and sit. He offers his coffee and I wrinkle my nose. I hate coffee. He takes it back. "Perhaps some television might help us." Alfie suggests. I roll my eyes.

"You hate TV, Alfie. Called it the 'idiot's lantern' often enough."

"Well we cannot simply pass the time in silence. I know you certainly cannot. What would you like to do?" I lean my head against his shoulder. It's always easier with Alfie: he understands kids, especially me. "Ah," He says a moment later, moving his arm out and letting me softly fall against his chest, "a story." Fingers gently close around my far shoulder, holding me steady. "What is your pleasure, young man?"

"Tell me a story about Bruce. I don't care which…or when. Just hit me with one." I hear the coffee cup settle on the end table. His other hand begins to comb through my hair in a way that's different from Bruce, less unsure.

"There are many stories about that boy. Too many. Sometimes I honestly believe I would have long expired before meandering halfway through retelling them." He says with a soft laugh. I close my eyes. "One I always remember is his first impression of you at the circus before all the…unpleasantness."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing at all. And that is what I remember most, his silent awe of you as you stood flanked by your parents. He had not wished to attend the circus. He had no particular interest in the show as it went on. His presence was only to allay fears that he was a recluse and strange. But, when he saw you, when he watched you and your parents complete that first set-piece, he was fully engrossed."

"Then the rope snapped and all hell broke loose." I say opening my eyes again. It is the only thing about that day I remember with perfect clarity. It'll be the only thing I will ever remember about that day. I went to sleep still wearing my circus outfit stained with their blood. And that was only because I was exhausted. Alfie rubs my arm and ruffles my hair.

"Yes. Perhaps a bad example."

"No. That's a good one. At least he got to see me before I was an orphan. It's getting harder to remember when I wasn't."

"And yet, for a boy whose trauma and tears were witnessed by thousands of spectators, you have fared remarkably well. Just being able to smile again after such loss is an achievement, but you have far surpassed that in a very short space of time. There may be occasional moments of melancholy, such as now, but they are fleeting. Otherwise you are exactly the kind and loving person your parents must have always wished you to be. Funny, sociable, smart, athletic…the list could go on for considerably longer, but since you already have something of an ego…"

"It's smaller since Judge Watkins." I say to instantly suck all good intentions out the room. Alfie sighs lethargically.

"I see it's going to be one of those nights. No amount of praise or warm words are going to turn about your attitude, are they?" He asks while continuing to stroke my hair and hold me. My eyes aren't closing again. They won't. Not without him here.

"No. I just need him home. I just need him here. Don't you?" He doesn't offer a verbal response. His hand moves off my head and links up with the other on my shoulder. He squeezes me and I know the answer's 'yes'. "Do you ever think he'll stop, just give it up?" I ask. He sighs lethargically again.

"No. I used to. I hoped he would, especially when taking you into this house. He is far better than he was before your arrival, but raising a child apparently isn't as grave a responsibility as crime fighting."

"You ever think maybe he's addicted to it, being Batman?"

"I know he far prefers it to being Bruce Wayne. I have never understood why. There is no Batman with Bruce Wayne."

"Think I'm addicted to being Robin?"

"No. You are addicted, but not to that identity. Your 'habit' is being with him. And I fully understand. The way your eyes light up whenever he asks your opinion or praises your schoolwork is a phenomenon only he can inspire. It is something I'm sure he notices, but wrongfully assumes you direct at everyone in your life."

"Do you think if he knew that he might not leave so much?"

"I want to say yes, but that's merely wishful thinking. He is a brilliant man, but hopeless where emotions are concerned. He understands criminal motive and can read people's thoughts by physical cues alone, but unless you verbally tell him exactly how you feel and why, he struggles to make the leap."

"That can't be true, Alfie: the guy is a human being, not a robot."

"Then tell me, unless you have been obviously crying or explicitly told him, has he ever given you a hug?"

I think on it. I know it shouldn't take longer than ten seconds to recall something like this. When thirty go past without a hit, I know he's right on Bruce being pretty clueless. I sigh. "Guess not. That sucks."

"Yes, however it is a practice that has been ongoing since the night of his parents' deaths. People hugged him. He did not reciprocate their actions. Not even when I tried. Before that night, he loved being openly affectionate. He would hug me, his playmates, visitors and anyone else he deemed deserving. Then it all stopped. He just…switched off. At the time, I put the disconnect down to grief, confident that he could move past it given enough time. But he has never been the same. With you and those he has been in romantic relationships with, he has made some progress to repairing the damage. But he will never be as he was before that night. So do not think yourself alone in that regard."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but that really doesn't make me feel better."

"I know. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth too." We sit and stew in silence for almost five minutes, staring off into space. There's still no hint of him returning anytime soon. The coffee smell has completely fallen away. It'll be stone cold by now. This is definitely the worst stakeout I've ever been a part of. I want to be angry at him but I can't be. And, because I'm not angry, I don't want him to come home to this scene – me and Alfie on the couch hugging each other like it's the end of the world. So I push away from my human safety blanket and go to the library. Alfie shadows me.

"Read me this, Alfie." I say passing him a copy of Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn. He looks more than a little reluctant at the idea. For a man who's such a stickler about proper grammar and diction, reading the thoughts of an uneducated kid from the Deep South is like a death sentence. That's why he should read it…because it's always funny to hear him try the accent. Bruce can do it perfectly, obviously. Alfie…not so much. He sighs at me.

"Will my caterwauling improve your mood, Master Dick?"

"Would you be mad if I said 'yes'?"

"Ordinarily yes after my last rendition of Mr Twain's…novel, but your mood is frightfully low this evening. So I will oblige you. Just do not expect it every time Master Bruce goes on a business trip. I am not an attraction at a funfair." He replies before taking the book and ushering me back into the living room. I grin at him.

"Whatever you say, Alfie."

I think he gets exactly two sentences into the first chapter before I start creasing up at his insane pronunciation and total disgust. Because he's a pro, Alfie keeps going for another four paragraphs. When I laugh my ass off, he closes the book until I get it back under control. It takes five minutes, but I manage it and we continue through the first two whole chapters. I snigger through both of them before losing it again when he attempts to voice Huck's dad. This one actually hurts I'm laughing that hard. I need nearly ten minutes to level off this time. Alfie finally admits defeat and puts the book to one side.

"That is quite enough humiliation for one night I think." He says. I wipe away a stray tear and shake my head.

"You weren't humiliated, Alfie. It's just me. No-one else will ever know you sank this low to entertain a lonely child, I promise."

"What about him?" The old man says indicating the shadowy corner of the room. I squint and just make out a really tall and wide silhouette hidden amongst the darkness. I raise my eyebrows. Wow. That hasn't happened in while, him getting the drop on me.

"Have I told anyone so far, Alfred?" The big man's voice asks from the shadows. Alfie offers up a small smile.

"I maintain a thespian of any note cannot connect with such an alien language. What sort of time do you call this, Sir?"

"I would imagine exactly what you would call it: two-thirty in the morning." Bruce answers whilst emerging from the blackness dressed in his pyjamas and dressing gown. I don't freaking believe it: his pyjamas? He's in his pyjamas? I stand up and walk towards him. He's shaved too, maybe even had a shower going by the total lack of smell.

"How long have you been home?" I inquire, still with some anger in my voice despite Alfie's comedy show. He looks at me sheepishly, which is a kind of weird role-reversal for us: normally I'm guilty of something and he's chiding me.

"I did not want to appear…unkempt in front of you both. I have been home for almost forty minutes. You seemed to be having a pleasant evening when I arrived."

"I was until you decided to blank us on getting in for the first time in almost a damn month." I tell him sharply. I watch him look past me to Alfie.

"I presume I cannot count on your support in this one, Alfred?"

"No Sir. This really has to be the last time you pull an absent-minded stunt like this. It is not fair to your son." Gotta love Alfie: only guy I know with a spine where Bruce Wayne is concerned. The big man resets his gaze on mine. He nods in agreement.

"No. It's not. I'm sorry I'm so insensitive, Dick. And I am sorry for worrying you these past weeks. Both of you. Perhaps I can make it up to…" I don't let him finish: I just hug him around the waist.

"You're an idiot." I say, resting my cheek on his chest, "But I love you. Just know that besides us two, nobody else on this planet would stand for you being a ghost half our lives. You stay here now. You don't go anywhere for the rest of the year. I'm pretty sure I've told you this before, but you have to be here for me and Alfie. The rest of the world can get in line. Got it?" I tell him in pushing away. He needs another reality check. He inclines his head.

"You were quite clear."

There's a long pause before I ask my next question. "Did you catch the bad guys?"

"Yes."

"Did you get hurt?"

"Not significantly."

"How are you going to make up for the last four weeks exactly?" I ask folding my arms.

"I…thought maybe you might like it if…I attended your athletic meets for the next two months."

"Four."

"Yes, I meant four months."

"Solid start. What's next?"

"I could…take you out…shopping?" Shopping? Really? I roll my eyes.

"I'm not a girl, Bruce. You've seen it enough times to know that. Give me something good. Come on."

"A whole weekend of theme parks? I'll get you a pass to all the rollercoasters in Gotham."

"Sounds like you're trying to buy me off here, big guy. I'm not that shallow."

"Fine. Extreme sports competitions. One per week for the next eight weeks." I raise my eyebrows at that offer. That's about the level of craziness I'd be willing to settle for. I nod in approval.

"Better. Are you going to let me win?"

"No."

"Good. I want to beat you fair and square. Do you think that's enough compensation for all my heartache?"

"I know you would disagree if I were to say 'yes'. What else would you like?"

This is where I come unstuck. This man is a billionaire. I could have anything I ask for. Right now, I could literally get anything out of him, no matter how crazy. The problem is…I never really want anything else. I've got Bruce at my athletic meets and taking me on in head-to-head extreme sports: what can possibly be better than that? Mini-bikes? My own basketball team? My own private island retreat? I don't want any of them. The guy is going to suffer enough over the next few months being in the dad spotlight so much. Track meets and those competitions are going to turn into media circuses as soon as he shows his face. He hates them. So, it's a good punishment for running off and then deciding to come back. It's all enough for me to move on with life. I shrug my shoulders.

"I don't know. I guess I'm done. Maybe I'll think of something later though, so don't go breathing easy just yet." He smiles at me. He already knows I'm out of ideas and won't be coming back to dish out more later. The way he's wearing this smile, with relief and gratefulness, tells me as much.

"Of course not. When is your next athletic meet?"

"In like twelve hours."

"And my next board meeting, Alfred?"

"Six hours from now, Sir. Your extended vacation warrants such attention. Not that Mr Fox has not been running the tightest of ships in your absence of course."

"Then I think it would be best we all retire for the evening and reconvene at breakfast. When will that be served, Alfred?"

"Four hours from now, Master Bruce, just before seven." Alfie tells him before inclining his head and turning to leave, "So if you'll kindly excuse me, I shall be getting what little rest this house allows me too. Do make sure your child goes to bed, Sir."

"Of course, Alfred." Bruce says only for the old man to sigh.

"I was talking to Master Dick."