Batman stepped out of the batmobile and glanced around the cave. Alfred was usually waiting for him when he finished patrol. There was no sign of him tonight, however. Of course, he was home nearly an hour early, so it was possible that he was in the kitchen still.

He moved toward the changing area, eager to get out of his costume. It wasn't often he was able to end his patrol early, and he thought he might like to sit by the fire in his study, and go over what he had seen tonight. He had his suspicions. It could still be either Red Hood or Robin, but he was beginning to lean in a different direction.

He noticed Robin's costume hanging in its usual position as he removed the cowl and the cape. He fingered the material. It looked and smelled clean; proof that Damian wasn't the hero in question in tonight's crimes. Still, Bruce planned to swing by the boy's room to make certain before crossing one suspect off of his list.

After showering, Bruce walked out into the cave, ready to climb the stairs up to the manor's secret entrance. He stopped after two steps. He wasn't alone in the cave anymore. His eyes moved around the various areas visible from where he stood. Alfred would have greeted him upon his exit from the changing area. Whoever was watching him, it wasn't Alfred!

Bruce tensed, awaiting for the intruder to show himself . . . and almost immediately after that, he allowed his muscles to relax. No alarms had gone off. The cave's entrances were nearly impossible to detect without a prior knowledge of their locations. No one could enter here without either he or Alfred being alerted unless he had clearance.

He felt his lips lift in preparation as he turned around slowly.

"I so had you," came a well-loved, familiar voice. "You are slipping in your old age, Grandpa."

Bruce blinked at that slur. "Grandpa? Why, you young whippersnapper . . . I dare you to step over here, and say that."

Laughter greeted his teasing words. "Ah, Bruce, I missed you!"

His eyes found and greedily absorbed the sight of his eldest son, still garbed as Nightwing, stepping out from behind the computer. He had obviously been hiding out in the medical bay. "The feeling is mutual, chum. Everyone has been wondering what happened to you." Bruce frowned. "That was you tonight, wasn't it? Were you hurt?"

Nightwing grinned. "Are you kidding? No one laid a hand on me. I was in the zone tonight."

"So, why were you in the medical bay?"

"Just wanting to see how long it took you to notice I was here," Nightwing mimed checking his watch. "Almost ten minutes! Bruce, I am ashamed . . ."

Despite the chiding words, Bruce gloried in the happiness he could hear in his son's voice – finally! "Ten minutes? I hardly think so. Does Alfred know you're here?"

Nightwing moved past him into the changing area in order to strip out of his costume. "No one knows I'm here. And it was ten minutes. I arrived here just before you came in. You just didn't notice me until now."

Bruce leaned against the doorway that shielded the changing area and the bathroom from the rest of the batcave, and watched Nightwing become his beloved eldest son with a few swipes of spirit gum remover.

"I can't imagine that I was that distracted," he teased. The fact was, he had indeed been that distracted . . . and ironically enough, with thoughts of the intruder, himself. "So, you are going to admit that you were the crime-fighting fairy in Gotham tonight, correct?"

Dick paused in changing to gape at the older man. "Crime-fighting . . . what?"

Bruce grinned. "Just something that Red Robin dubbed the mysterious hero running around Gotham this evening. It seemed fitting at the time."

Dick laughed as he pulled his sweater over his head, and Bruce marveled that he sounded so normal after so long of faking it. When Dick finally turned to face him, Bruce was struck by the lightness in his eyes, the relaxation in his stance, his shoulders; the easiness of his grin. This wasn't simply back to normal, though, was it, he thought wonderingly.

"Dick," he began. "Has something happened?"

His son blinked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

Bruce was almost afraid to ask, but something had pulled his son out of his depression of almost nine months. His heart was torn between hope and fear. "H-have you and Barbara worked things out?"

"What," Dick looked startled.

"Have you and Barbara gotten back together?" What else could account for this?

Dick slowly shook his head. "No, Bruce. No, we haven't spoken or seen one another for months now. Why do you ask?"

Although Dick sobered, he didn't appear to be falling back into his previous funk now that the topic of Barbara Gordon came up. New hope arose. Could it be that Dick was finally over her? An uneasy relief replaced Bruce's fear. Was it too much to hope for that he had met someone else . . .

"You . . . you seem to be in better spirits tonight than I've seen you since . . . well, for a long time, son. I'm glad to see it, is all. I was getting a little worried."

"Worried?" Dick grimaced. "Oh, because I haven't called in a while. I'm sorry about that. It is part of the reason I decided to come to see you rather than just pick up the phone."

"Keep going," Bruce said as the two began making their way up the stairs. "I'm curious as to what you've been doing to stay so busy that you couldn't take a moment to phone home."

Dick shrugged, ruefully. "I've been pretty distracted lately, I guess."

"Apparently so. Last I heard you and Wally had planned to spend a weekend together."

Dick nodded. "Yeah, it was good to see him again."

The pair moved into the manor, stopping off at the study. "Then, you dropped off the face of the earth."

"Not exactly. I came by after that," he defended himself. "You just happened to not be here."

"So, get me up to speed. What has happened to put that smile back on your face?" Bruce leaned back against the chair, prepared to listen.

Dick rubbed the back of his neck, nervously. "Heh! Well, Wally sort of talked me into going out more . . ."

Bruce smiled and leaned forward. I knew it, he thought triumphantly. "What's her name?"

"Bru-uce, can you stop being the detective for five minutes?" The blush that fanned across Dick's face drew Bruce's smile into an out-and-out grin.

Alfred walked into the study, interrupting Bruce's laughter. "Well, I say, this is a pleasant surprise." The butler's mouth turned up at seeing the two masters together again, and in such high spirits. "It is good to see you, Master Dick. You are looking . . . quite well, in fact. Still too thin, but it is nice to see you smiling again. It was sorely missed."

"I'm sorry, Alfred. I suppose I've been worrying you both for a while now," Dick apologized.

"Nonsense. We would have worried about you regardless," Alfred reassured him. He looked over at Bruce, asking, "I wasn't expecting you back so soon or I would have met you downstairs, sir."

Bruce waved away the concern. "It's fine, Alfred. It isn't as though I am incapable of taking care of myself."

"Ah, of course not, sir. The question, however, isn't whether you can take care of yourself, but whether you can take care of yourself properly." The older man glanced between his two charges. "Might I bring you both some coffee, and perhaps a light repast?"

"I'm kind of in the mood for some of your cocoa. Would it be too much trouble?" Dick looked up hopefully.

Alfred smiled, beyond pleased to see, not only the lightness of being that the young sir had been missing for far too long, but that his appetite appeared to be returning. "It would be no trouble at all. I believe I have some fresh chocolate chip cookies in the tin as well. Shall I bring you out one or two?"

"That sounds terrific, Alfred. Thanks!" Dick's eyes lit up at the prospect of having some of the retainer's famous baked goods.

"I agree," Bruce added. "No coffee for me, Alfred. I'll take some cocoa and a cookie also."

"Very good, sir. I shall return momentarily." The butler nodded to the two men, and retreated back to the kitchen to prepare the snacks.

"Now, then," Bruce turned back to his wayward son. "You were about to give me a name?"

"Was I? Funny, but I don't recall that," Dick smirked.

Bruce looked surprised. "You aren't worried that I won't approve, are you? For her to manage to give you back your smile, how could I not instantly love her?"

"I only just met her," Dick explained, finally admitting that it was a girl that had brought him out of his slump. "I mean, I had been going to see her for a while now, but only just recently gotten the courage up to ask her out on a date."

Bruce frowned at his wording. "I don't think I understand. How did you two meet?"

"Ah, now that's a funny story." The blush was back.

"Yes? I'm waiting . . . Amuse me," Bruce encouraged him.

Dick had somehow managed to give Bruce a watered-down and vague description of how he and Elle met without giving any real details; leaving the older man less than satisfied and no closer to being enlightened when he was done than when Dick had started the story. They were interrupted, however, when Alfred came in bearing cocoa and cookies. Bruce refrained from commenting that his plate had but two cookies on it, while Dick's bore three. After all, Bruce hadn't been absent for all of a month, nor was he in need of fattening up.

"Thanks, Alfred. These look great," Dick bit into one of his cookies immediately.

Well, if it isn't too bad of me, you are looking a little peaked this evening, young sir."

"Oh, well, I caught the flu last week, and that put me flat on my back for four days," he admitted, ruefully. "But I'm all better now," he added quickly, before he could be lectured about going out on patrol in less than top condition.

"That explains much," Alfred nodded sagely. "You are far too thin."

"The flu? You should have called," Bruce insisted. "Alfred could have come to get you. You could have recuperated here, where there are people to help you."

Oddly enough, a grin flitted across Dick's face. "I was well taken care of. No worries about that. In fact, compared to some of my fellow officers, I was back up and working in half the time. As for weight, I don't think I lost any despite being sick. If anything, I probably put on a pound or two."

"Really? Was it this new girl in your life who took care of you?" Bruce watched his son's face. He was willing to bet good money that he was right.

Alfred looked over at Dick, interested. "What's this? You've found yourself a new girlfriend, Master Dick? If she is so considerate at to look after you while you've been ill, then I must say that I approve of her wholeheartedly already."

Suddenly, Dick wasn't sure he was ready to share the knowledge of Elle just yet. He knew that as soon as Bruce had a name, the man would be researching the woman as if she were some new super villain. Dick wanted the opportunity to get to know her over the course of time spent with her. But it was nice to know that both men approved of her based upon the little he had let spill.

And she was pretty considerate. Elle had dropped by every day that he had been ill; checking to see that he had everything he needed, and to bring him home-cooked meals. When he was back on his feet, he had been so busy at work and then as Nightwing, he had only managed to take her out for an evening once since he'd recovered. Unlike their previous date, no one was injured during the course of this one. Elle had rediscovered her gracefulness, now that she wasn't in a canoe, and the evening had been filled with easy talk, laughter, and fun.

Both men were staring at him with such encouragement, however, Dick felt bad about disappointing them. Still, he wanted to preserve his privacy for a little while longer. He decided upon a compromise, instead.

"How about I bring her by in a couple of weeks to meet you? You can learn all about her, then." He was taking a chance, not talking this over with Elle first, but he thought he could get her to agree to it. He didn't think she had ever met a stranger. Her easy-going charm made friends wherever she went.

Bruce's eyes narrowed on him. Great, Dick thought. He had a feeling that he would need to check his apartment for bugs and spy cameras over the next few days. He took another bite of cookie to hide his smirk. Making Bruce crazy with curiosity for a couple of weeks would be worth it.

"Quiet evening in Gotham, was it, sir?" Alfred changed the subject smoothly, sensing that the young master wanted to keep his secrets a while longer.

"Ah, yes," Bruce smirked. He had noticed that Dick smoothly gotten around answering his earlier question about whether or not he had had a hand in the evening's business. "Apparently we had a mysterious person going around Gotham this evening taking down criminals, and leaving the scene before Tim and I could even show up."

Alfred frowned at that. "A mysterious personage, sir?"

"Perhaps Dick might shed some light on the subject," Bruce murmured.

"This sounds to be an interesting tale. I am ready, young sir,"

Dick blushed, in spite of himself. "Ah, perhaps Bruce can enlighten you, Alfred, since he apparently has it all worked out."

"So, you aren't going to admit it," Bruce asked, amused.

Alfred lifted a brow, his attention moving back and forth between the two men. "Are you suggesting that the young master had something to do with your mystery hero, sir?"

"Or as Tim calls him, our crime-fighting fairy," Bruce smirked, struggling to keep his chuckles contained at the look on Dick's face at his new title.

"I am not a fairy," he burst out finally, laughing. "I just kept on running into criminals on my way to locate you."

"You would have found us readily enough had you slowed down long enough for us to arrive," Bruce pointed out. "We estimated our time of arrival was more or less two minutes after you had already fled the scene."

"I wasn't fleeing," Dick protested. "I simply wasn't dawdling."

Bruce nearly snorted cocoa through is nose. "Dawdling?"

Dick grinned. "Hey! Alfred uses it!"

"Sorry," Bruce waved the man in question away. He managed to not spew his drink. "It is just one of those words that look better on paper than used in actual speech. You know, like 'comeuppance'."

"I wonder how you have managed not to drown yourself in your beverages in the past whenever I have used either word," Alfred queried, dryly.

"It sounds okay when you say it, Alfred," Bruce answered.

"Must be that dry English accent," Dick volunteered. "One can get away with saying all sorts of things when keeping a stiff upper lip."

"You were telling us about your magic wand, Master Dick," Alfred reminded him while maintaining his poise.

Bruce snorted again, his cup rattling in its saucer. He gave up trying to drink it, and just set it down on the coffee table. He swiped at the stray droplets on his turtleneck as he choked.

"I assume you are staying the night, young sir," Alfred inquired, as he removed the cocoa from Bruce's reach.

"It's too late to start back tonight. You should spend the night. You can have a good breakfast, and borrow one of the cars to go to work," Bruce offered. "Tim will be dropping by in the morning as well. He'd love to see you, even if it is for just a meal."

Dick set down his empty cup. "I have plans for tomorrow evening. I wouldn't be able to return the car until Friday night."

"You can join us for patrol afterwards. Damian would be thrilled," Bruce commented, knowing the idea of working a patrol with his youngest brother would tempt Dick to stay another night. Maybe then he could tease some more information out of his eldest about this miracle woman he'd begun dating.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Dick stood up and stretched. "What's for breakfast?"

"I was thinking we might have French toast with extra cinnamon," Alfred winked at the younger man. It had been Master Dick's favorite breakfast food since he had arrived on their doorstep sixteen years before.

"Yes!" Dick made a fist. "Much better than toaster pastries."

Alfred watched the two men head toward the stairs together, feeling relief flood his limbs for the first time in months. He had met someone else. Possibly given her his heart . . . Alfred had not met her yet, but felt overwhelming gratefulness to her for returning the joy to the young master's life. He prayed that this young woman took better care of that fragile organ than did the previous owner.