Damian wrinkled his nose at the ripe smell of body odor as he opened the door. Tim's usually tidy room was in a disheveled state with books and papers strewn about, and the boy hunched over the desk wasn't in much better shape. "Why are you in my room?" Tim mumbled, not looking up from his work.

"I came to ask if you will be coming on patrol, but now I see that might not be the best idea." Damian huffed as he side-stepped his way as close as he dared. "Drake, when was the last time you slept? Or ate? Or showered?"

"I did all that when we got home from school." Tim muttered, and Damian raised his brow. It was Sunday night. Looking more closely, he could now see the state his brother was in.

Protein bar wrappers and empty energy drink cans were littered around in a cascading wave. The files Tim was looking through were all spread out in a chaotic layout.

Meanwhile, Tim himself looked as though he'd been raised from the dead, with his hair sticking up every which way, his clothes stained with unidentifiable substances and dark bruise-like rings under his bloodshot eyes.

The younger boy shook his head. Their Father would never allow Tim to work himself into such a state. Bruce, however, was on a business trip, and Pennyworth had accompanied him, leaving the Wayne children under the care of the oldest brother, who had argued that Tim knew his limits.

Yet again, Damian was coming to the conclusion that Grayson was wrong. "Drake, this is unacceptable." He said firmly. "Whether I like it or not, you represent the house of Wayne, and you can not do so in this state. Clean yourself up."

Tim finally looked over at his brother in bewilderment. "You're not the boss of me." He huffed. "That may be so, but if you don't shower this instant, I will call Pennyworth to make you." Tim tried to stare the younger boy down, but he could barely even focus on a singular spot.

Relentingly he dragged himself to his bathroom and shut the door. Damian stood outside for a while, partly to ensure that the water was indeed running and just in case Tim collapsed from exhaustion.

As he stood guard, he once again took stock of the room. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Damian began scooping up the mess of food supplements and drink cans and running them down to dispose of in the kitchen.

By the time Tim stepped out of the bathroom, now dressed in clean sweatpants and a t-shirt, the space looked somewhat more presentable. "There. I showered and brushed my teeth. Now let me work." Tim said, trying to get back to his desk.

Damian stood in his way, however, hands on his hips. "You can't be making any substantial progress after working for 52 hours without sleep." The boy argued. "Whatever it is can wait till you've had a full night's rest."

Any other time Tim would have protested that he was fine and that he was right on the verge of a breakthrough, but he was seeing double as it was and was in no mood to fight his stubborn brother. Tim dragged himself to his bed and got comfortable under the covers. "Aren't you going on patrol?" He asked as Damian pulled the desk chair closer to the bed and sat down.

"Grayson, Todd, and Cain have most likely left by now." He shrugged. "Besides, someone should ensure that you are taking care of yourself." Tim smiled slightly and mumbled something about Damian actually caring about him as he dozed off.

Once Damian was satisfied that Tim was actually asleep, he stood and moved the chair back to its spot. He scanned over the array of notes and data his brother had been working himself ragged over for the last few days.

He nodded with respect at the work Tim had done. He really was on to something. Damian, however, opted to leave it for him to finish. No need to let his recklessness be for nothing. Instead, he straightened up the work area, putting writing utensils back in their proper places and organizing the papers into small neat piles.

Tim turned in his sleep as Damian headed for the door. The boy smiled at his older brother, glad to know he was capable of taking care of him as well.

Tim straightened the stack of freshly graded homework before walking it over to Mrs. Weaver's desk. "Thank you again for your help, Timothy." She smiled, and Tim shrugged. "It was nothing."

"Maybe for you." The woman said sweetly. "I wish all my students were as helpful. Surely you had things you'd rather be doing with your afternoon."

"Actually, my older brother Jason has detention, so I was going to be here anyway." Mrs. Weaver's face darkened for a moment at the mention of the second oldest Wayne.

"Jason does have a knack for trouble, doesn't he?" She said shortly, dropping her eyes back to her computer screen. "I hate to say it, but I doubt if he'll pass my calculus class this year. Maybe you can help him."

Tim shuffled his feet at this remark. He did, on occasion, help Jason work out his trickier assignments, but something didn't feel right about his math teacher suggesting he tutor his older brother. "I'm sure Jason will be fine. He may not love school as much as I do, but he's very capable when he puts his mind to something."

Mrs. Weaver snorted, and Tim's brow furrowed. "What was that for?" He asked. "Well, I don't normally say this kind of thing about one student to another, but I must admit I don't expect much of Jason. Now don't give me that look," She paused at the sight of Tim's souring expression.

"I don't think he'll be homeless by any means. He has your Father to thank for that. Plus, I'd assume he'll be able to get some kind of sympathy job working for Wayne Industries. I just don't see him measuring up to you, Timothy dear. It's really quite remarkable how different you are, but I suppose we have genetics to thank for that."

Tim could feel his blood boiling beneath his skin. Jason was by no means perfect, but he didn't deserve to be spoken about this way. "Mrs. Weaver, our genetics have nothing to do with why my brother and I are so different." He said with a restrained tension in his jaw.

"I didn't mean to offend you, dear. You are destined for great things. Not everyone can do the same. I'm sure your Father, bless his heart, will take care of Jason." Tim was sure steam should have been pouring from his ears by this point.

"Mrs. Weaver, I'd advise you to keep my brother's name out of your condescending, gossiping mouth!" He snapped, and the teacher looked at him in shock. "Timothy, I-"

"No, you listen to me. Jason is incredibly smart and capable of just as many amazing things as I am. He may not get perfect grades, but I'd say that has more to do with teachers like you who give up on anyone they think is less than perfect.

Jason is going to pass your class, and then you'll never have to see either of us again. He's going to grow up to be even better of a person than he is now, and if you must be beyond stupid if you think otherwise or that I would ever let you or anyone else talk about him like that."

With that, Tim snatched up his backpack and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He stalked through the halls, trying to calm himself before he reached the car. He'd have to go to the school counselor tomorrow to get transferred to another math class.

"Tim! Yo Timmy!" Jason's voice suddenly penetrated his thoughts. "I've been calling you for a whole minute." "Sorry." Tim shrugged. "I guess I was kinda in my own head." The boys fell into step with one another before Jason playfully elbowed his brother.

"So, how'd you kill time while I severed my sentence?" He joked. "I graded trigonometry homework for my teacher." Tim mumbled. "We had an interesting chat." Jason coughed something about nerdy teachers' pets but didn't press Tim for any details.

"Jay?" Tim said softly, and Jason glanced down. "You're really smart. You know that, right?" Jsaon gave a quizical look. "Thanks. Where's this coming from?"

"Nowhere." Tim assured. "I just realized that I don't tell you that enough. I'm proud of you." Jason grinned, wrapping an arm around the boy to give him a squeeze. "Thanks, Timmy. That means a lot coming from you." Tim returned his smile, and they both walked out of the school in proud silence.

Jason grinned gleefully as he settled into the chair in front of the Batcomputer and admired the disk in his hands. Zombie Slayer 4. The newest coolest video game that all his classmates were raving about.

Bruce, of course, had forbidden Jason to get the game when it first showed up on store shelves, but Jason, with his power of trickery, had persuaded one of his classmates to let him borrow it for the weekend. And now he was going to blaze his way through the game on the most powerful HD screen money could buy.

"What are you doing down here, Jason?" Dick's voice came from behind him, making him jump as he did his best to hide the game behind his back. "Nothing." the boy lied quickly. "You know you're not supposed to be down here by yourself. And did you finish your homework?"

Jason was about to make up some excuse for the untouched worksheets sitting at the bottom of his backpack when Dick noticed his fidgeting hands behind his back.

"What are you hiding?" The older boy asked, maneuvering around and snatching the disk before Jason could even utter a word. "Zombie Slayer 4? Jason, you know Bruce doesn't want us playing these games. You gotta take it back."

"You're not the boss of me!" Jason snapped as he tried to snatch the game back and ended up in a tug of war with Dick. "All the other kids in my class have played it. Just cause you're a goodie-two-shoes circus freak doesn't mean I have to be!" Dick froze, and Jason seized his opportunity, yanking the disk free and poising it in front of the entry slot.

He paused for a moment and turned to his brother. "You're gonna tell, aren't you?" He grumbled. Dick merely gave a slow shake of his head. "Do what you want." He said softly before turning back to The Cave entrance.

After what felt like an eternity of nervously checking over his shoulder Jason grinned as the start page to his forbidden game loaded on the screen. But then, just as he brought the curser to a hover over the start button, an odd sound caught his ear. Soft at first but swelling every now and then.

Jason slipped from his seat and followed the sound in circles around The Cave to no avail. He was about to give up when he happened to glance up and spotted a foot dangling from the rafters.

"Dick?" He called up, and the foot disappeared onto the beam. "Go away." Dick's voice came in a sob. "Are you ok? Should I get Alfred?" Jason tried again. "I said go away!" Dick called down, his voice breaking at the end.

Jason was at a loss. He'd never seen Dick cry before. He didn't have the first clue on what to do. Dick was his big brother. He was good at making people feel better no matter what. Jason didn't know if he could do any of that, but he owed it to his brother to try.

After a few minutes of grappling and struggling, Jason pulled himself to the beams running through the roof of The Cave. "How the hell did you get up here?" He huffed once he spotted Dick curled up next to a stalactite. The older boy didn't answer, and Jason carefully scooted his way over to sit next to him.

"Dickie I'm sorry." He started. "I didn't mean what I said. I was just mad and-" "It's not that." Dick finally mumbled. The boys sat in silence for a while before Dick spoke again. "Some kids at school were messing with me, and I guess what you said just brought it back."

Jason felt a knot twist in his stomach. Even if he hadn't made Dick cry, knowing he had reminded him of school bullies was just as bad. "What did they do?" Jason asked tentatively, not wanting to make things any worse.

"It was the normal stuff at first. Calling me a freak and a teacher's pet. But this time, they started talking about my mom and dad." Dick stopped and let out a long shaky breath.

"They said my parents chose to fall and die so they wouldn't be stuck with me. I know it's not true, but I still felt bad." He took another breath and wiped away the fresh tears that were falling.

"I used to think about Mama and Tati all the time, and I wonder what they'd think of me now. Would they be upset that I'm not at the circus anymore? Would Tati mind that I call Bruce Dad? What would Mama think if she knew I hadn't spoken a word in Romanian in months? They'd be really disappointed."

Jason scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his brother. "Nu este adevarat." (That's not true.) Dick whipped around so fast that he almost toppled backward off the rafter. The words were so familiar, but hearing them from such an unexpected source was jarring. "When did you…? How did you…?"

"You and Bruce used to talk like that all the time. I used to listen. I picked stuff up." Jason shrugged. Dick gave him a sad smile. "You sound pretty good."

"I meant it, ya know." Jason said after a while. "You may not be a famous acrobat, but you save people every night. I think they'd be happy you have a family who loves you. I think they'd be really proud of you." Dick pulled his little brother close.

"Thanks Jay. I needed to hear that." Jason beamed inwardly at his words. "Maybe you could teach me some more Romanian. It'd be pretty cool if we could talk at school, and no one else would be able to understand."

Dick's smile was real this time. "I'd love that." The two boys sat up in the rafters for a while, enjoying each other's company and knowing they were there for each other.

Bruce dragged his hand through his hair as he listened to the executive on the other end of the phone state his many grievances.

He'd been in his office from the crack of dawn that morning, and he'd just barely been able to drag himself away this afternoon, only to now be trapped in his study with the same unmoving navigators. How was he supposed to facilitate partnerships if neither side was willing to compromise? At least this investor seemed to be wrapping up.

"Bruce! Guess what!" Came Dick's excited yelling as the boy burst through the study doors. The executive on the phone began berating Bruce with questions and demands and accusations about Wayne Enterprises not taking their business seriously before slamming the line down.

If Bruce wasn't rung out before, he was at his wit's end now. He gave Dick the most withering of Bat glairs normally reserved for hardened criminals, and the boy all but wet himself as he slunk out of the room and dashed to the safety of the front hallway.

There he found Alfred slipping on his coat to head out to the grocery store. "Master Dick, is something wrong?" The old man asked hurriedly upon seeing his young charge's still frightened face. Dick quickly explained Bruce's sudden burst of bad temper.

"I've never seen Bruce that mad." He whispered as he finished. "Not at me away." Alfred knelt to look Dick in the eye as he placed a hand on his shoulder. "He is not mad at you, Master Dick." He promised.

"Master Bruce has had a hard day and may have taken some of that frustration out on you. He was wrong to do so but never for a second think that he would ever intentionally hurt or scare you." Dick nodded as Alfred got to his feet and headed to the door.

Once he was by himself, he began wandering around The Manor until he was in the kitchen. He smiled at the plate of still-warm cookies on the counter with a note from Alfred to enjoy his snack.

As much as the sight of the sweet treats raised his mood, Dick couldn't help but think about Bruce, only a few rooms away. Suddenly an old memory came to him along with a hopeful idea.

It took him a while of rummaging through the pantry, but soon the plate of cookies was laid out on one of Alfred's good serving trays along with two cool glasses of milk. Slowly and carefully, Dick carried the spread back to Bruce's study.

After standing outside the door and listening to ensure he wasn't interrupting anything more phone calls, Dick gave a tentative knock. Bruce's hard stare softened upon seeing his son's nervous eyes staring back at him. He gave a gentle dip of his chin a Dick smiled. All was forgiven.

The boy pushed the rest of the way into the room, amused as he noted his Father's quizzical look at the tray of cookies and milk. "Alfred said you had a bad day. Back at the circus, when I had a bad day, Mama would get milk and cookies, and we'd talk about it."

Bruce shrugged as he took a cookie. It may not solve anything but a snack could hardly hurt. Dick climbed into one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk and took a mouthful of milk.

The normal neat space was now littered with spreadsheets, graphs, charts, and long written reports. While he couldn't understand most of the data, Dick did notice two reoccurring letterheads on every other page. "What's going on at work?" He asked as he whipped away his milk mustache.

"It's some complicated stuff. I don't know if you'd get it." Bruce sighed around his cookie. "I'm pretty smart." Dick grinned. "Try me." Bruce smiled at the boy's confidence. There was no harm in talking things out.

"Well, there are two companies who want to work with Wayne Enterprises, but neither of them wants to work together. So now I have to decide who I'm going to work with even though both companies have potential." Dick munched on his cookie as he thought. It certainly was a tough one.

"One time at school, we were supposed to be working on an assignment, and we were allowed to make teams. Barbara wanted to team up with me, but so did Tracy Moran, and they're not friends. I didn't want to hurt either of their feelings, and it would take forever if I tried to do the project by myself."

"So, what did you do?" Bruce asked, admittedly intrigued. "Well, I told Tracy how smart Barbara is, and I told Barbara that Tracy is really creative, and I told both of them that we'd all do better if we all worked together. They said they'd try, and we got an A. We even finished first! Tracy and Barbara aren't best friends or anything now, but they can work together."

The two sat in contemplation for a while as they finished their snack. It was hardly elegant, but perhaps Dick had been onto something. The two companies had been so busy listing out all the reasons they couldn't work together. Maybe they needed to be reminded of what they each brought to the table and the good they could do together.

As Bruce came up from his thoughts, Dick was cleaning up the tray to take back to the kitchen. He caught the boy by the arm and gently pulled him around the desk and on his lap.

"I'm sorry I scared you earlier Dickiebird. I appreciate your help." Dick beamed and wrapped his arms around his Father in a tight hug. "You're welcome. We make a good team." Bruce nodded as he returned the affection. They were a dynamic duo.

Bonus Part

Bruce caught the slight grimace on Jack Drake's face as he moved his piece on the checkerboard. The eleven-year-olds had already compromised on what game to play, and Bruce was going easy on him. Still, there was only so much he could do to placate the other boy's hubris. Lucky, the knock on the door distracted them both.

"Finally, Nancy. What took you so long?" Jack demanded as the maid set a plate of assorted cookies on the table next to them. "I'm sorry, Ja- uh, Master Jack." She stammered.

She seemed unaccustomed to saying the title, and Bruce didn't recognize her from previous visits to Drake Manor. She must have been new on their staff. "Ugh! What is this?" Jack was scoffing as he spit a lump of the half-chewed cookie on the floor.

"Uh, I believe it's oatmeal raisin, Master Jack. Your mother said that you've had too many sweets. This seemed like a fair alternative." The young woman said quickly as she scrambled for some of the napkins she brought in to clean up the soggy mound.

"Well, take note, Nancy. When I have a guest, my rules come first, and my rule is that I get the snacks I want. Understand?" The woman nodded as she scooped up the remaining cookies and scurried out of the room, clearly humiliated.

Jack snorted derisively after her before turning his attention back to their game. Bruce's mind, however, was elsewhere now. While he hadn't preferred the snack, Alfred had always taught him to be grateful for what was given to him.

And the way Jack had snapped at Nancy. Even if she was a family maid, she was still a grown-up, and Bruce shuddered to even think of the consequences of talking to Alfred in such a tone.

He sighed as he went back to analyzing the game. Perhaps things were just different in the Drake house.

III

With at least an hour left before Bruce was to be picked up, the boys made their way to the backyard to find new ways to entertain themselves. "How about a race?" Bruce suggested. "From the door to that bush and back."

After an afternoon of letting Jack win at board games, he was ready to hold this physical victory over the other boy's head. "That's boring." Jack declared, kicking at the dirt. "How about something more daring? We could climb that tree! First, one to the top wins."

Bruce was about to eagerly nod his agreement when there was an anxious cough behind them. "I don't think that's a good idea, Master Jack. Those branches aren't as strong as you'd think. You could fall and hurt yourself." Nancy warned. "Besides, the gardeners just finished preparing for your mother's garden party. I doubt she'd appreciate you messing up their work."

Jack made a face as the woman left them on the porch and took off towards the topiaries. "What are you doing?" Bruce asked as he chased after him. "Having some fun. You should try it sometime Wayne." Jack smirked as he sized up his target. "But Nancy just said-"

"Nancy doesn't know the first thing about fun." Jack cut him off. "Besides, she's just a servant. She works for me. Don't tell me you let your butler boss you around." With that, Jack started his accent while Bruce watched him from below.

Soon the other boy was a good five feet from the ground and perfectly safe. Bruce tested his weight on one of the lower branches. It seemed sturdy enough, and Jack was having a good time.

Just as he'd convinced himself to start climbing, Bruce heard a sudden loud crack and then a yelp from above him. He looked up and saw Jack hurtling to the ground and just barely managed to dive out of the way as he landed right where he'd been standing with a hard thud!

Jack was screaming bloody murder as Nancy and a few of the other servants came rushing out. They all began rushing about, trying to see the extent of the damage and tending Jack's bent out of shape arm. Meanwhile, Jack was swearing at poor Nancy as she tried to comfort him.

III

Bruce could not have been more glad when he spotted Alfred pulling into the Drake's driveway. Jack was laid up in his room with luckily only a dislocated shoulder and bruised ribs, and Bruce did not want to join the staff, who were now walking on eggshells, to appease the boy's wounded pride.

"Master Bruce, are you all right?" Alfred asked frantically as he got out of the car. "I was told there had been an accident, but – My goodness!" The old man was cut short by Bruce running to him and throwing his arms around his waist.

"Thanks, Alfred." He mumbled softly. "My dear boy, whatever for?" He asked as he gently stroked his charge's shoulder. "Just, everything." Bruce whispered, and that was all Alfred needed to hear.