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Dick was curled up around Zitka, slowly falling asleep, when he heard his window rattle. Dick ignored it at first, drifting back to the comfy place between wakefulness and sleep. The manor was old. Sometimes it made weird noises.
Then he heard it again, this time louder. Now fully awake, Dick clutched Zitka and screwed his eyes shut. It was only the wind. Probably. Alfred had helped Dick cleanse his room of ghosts when he’d first arrived. It had to be the wind.
The rattling wasn’t going away. Dick wanted to hide under the covers until it stopped. Usually, he’d run to Bruce’s room, but Bruce was gone tonight, at some charity event for grown-ups only.
After sneaking away from the manor to help catch Zucco, Bruce had agreed to let Dick join Batman on some patrols, but only after Dick had at least eight months of training. Dick had already decided on a name for his vigilante hero persona – Robin, like what his mother used to call him. Robin wasn’t scared of window rattling. Robin wasn’t scared of anything.
Dick clung to that courage and slipped out of bed, Zitka pressed reassuringly to his chest. He crept over to his window curtains. With a deep breath, he pulled one of the curtains up.
Dick screamed and dropped the curtain. There was a man behind the window, trying to get it open. With a crash, the window broke, sending small bits of glass everywhere.
Dick’s Robin-courage immediately faded, replaced by terror. He was unable to move, frozen in place, as the man crawled in through the window. It was a like out of one of those horror movies that Dick wasn’t allowed to see and only knew about because of the movie trailers. The man was large and wore all black. His face was covered by a ski mask, but Dick could see his eyes – narrow and cruel.
As soon as he was through the window, the man lunged at Dick, grabbing Dick’s wrist in a painful hold. The pain jerked Dick out of his frozen state and into action. He screamed and struggled against the man’s grip. The man clamped a hand over Dick’s mouth. Dick bit down hard and kicked the man’s sensitive place, like his mom had taught him. The man swore and released Dick.
Dick quickly picked up Zitka from where he’d accidentally dropped her and ran out of the room. He wasn’t sure where to go, but he had to get away.
Before Dick knew it, he was in the kitchen.
“My dear boy,” Alfred said, from where he was washing dishes. “You’re white as a sheet. What is the matter?”
“M-man in the-the w-window,” Dick stammered. “He was trying to get in. I heard the window making noise. I-I looked behind the curtain. He broke the window. G-grabbed me. I-I-”
As if on cue, there was the distant sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs – too many to belong to just one man. Dick stopped talking, feeling more blood drain from his face.
Immediately, Alfred set down the plate that he’d been drying. He bent down and opened one of the lower cupboards. He took out a few large pots and set them on the counter. “Hide in here, Master Dick,” Alfred said, holding the now-empty cupboard door open.
“W-What about you?” Dick said. Though he was terrified, he refused to hide while Alfred faced the intruders alone.
“Don’t mind me. Quickly, now,” Alfred said. When Dick didn’t move, Alfred’s voice became stern. “Now, Richard.”
Dick finally obeyed, crawling into the cupboard. Alfred shut the doors behind him and said, “Stay here and stay quiet until I or Master Bruce come to get you. It will be alright, Master Dick.”
Even though Alfred couldn’t see him anymore, Dick gave a small nod.
The cupboard doors were shut, but Dick could peer out through the small gap between the doors. He could see Alfred from the waist down. He tucked Zitka under his chin and watched.
Alfred unlocked a drawer in the kitchen island and pulled out a handgun. Dick covered his mouth to keep from gasping in surprise. Why would Alfred keep a gun in the kitchen?
Dick started counting the seconds. Counting usually helped him calm down, but so far it wasn’t working. When he reached sixty-seven elephant, something finally happened.
Dick’s view of the kitchen entrances was blocked by the island, but he heard the cocking of a gun. He flinched as memories of Zucco flooded his brain.
“Where’s the boy?” a gravelly voice snarled.
Lightning fast, Alfred raised and shot the gun. Bang. There was cry of pain accompanied by a thud.
From beyond the kitchen, other men’s voices shouted in surprise. Their fallen accomplice brought the rest of the men to the kitchen, but Alfred was ready. Bang, bang, bang. Dick couldn’t see much, but he knew that Alfred wasn’t hurt…yet.
There was more yelling, and the intruders started firing back. Alfred ducked behind the island. Dick softly bit into Zitka to muffle his whimpers of fear. He couldn’t look away though, afraid that the moment he closed his eyes, Alfred would be on the ground, lifeless like Dick’s parents.
Whenever the hail of bullets would ease momentarily, Alfred would pop up and fire back, emptying his clip. When he was out, he would duck back down and reload his gun with magazines from the drawer where he’d gotten the gun.
Eventually – about five minutes, though it felt like eternity – the shooting stopped altogether. 396 elephant, 397 elephant, 398 elephant, Dick continued to count to himself. When Dick reached 490 elephant, Alfred slowly stood, gun in hand. Taking a large knife from the knife block with him, he left the kitchen.
510 elephant, 511 elephant, Dick thought stubbornly, trying to distract himself from the panic of Alfred leaving his sight. His counting, though, was quickening, no longer a second per number. It made it hard to keep track of the time.
“Get ‘im!” an unfamiliar voice shouted from outside the kitchen.
Dick flinched as he heard the sounds of fighting – the shuffling of feet, the grunts of pain, the smack of punches. 651 elephant, 652 elephant, Dick counted vigorously.
His teeth hurt from where he was gnawing on Zitka. She was getting all gross and slobbery, but he couldn’t stop. He was so scared. He wanted his parents. He wanted Bruce. Bruce meant safety, because Bruce was Batman, and Batman could beat anyone in a fight. He could protect Dick and Alfred. Alfred shouldn’t be fighting dangerous people, because Alfred was an elderly butler, and he was going to get hurt or die, and Dick didn’t want anything to happen to Alfred.
716 elephant, 717 elephant, 718 elephant.
Dick didn’t notice the fight noises stopping until Alfred came back into the kitchen. Overwhelmed by relief, Dick watched as Alfred pulled out zip ties from the drawer that the gun had come from. Alfred then left the kitchen again. This time, seeing him leave didn’t make Dick panic. Alfred was as calm as ever, which reassured Dick. Somehow, Alfred had won the fight. He’d beat the bad guys.
Dick flinched when he heard screaming from the other room. He was only slightly reassured that none of the voices sounded like Alfred’s. (Then again, he’d never heard Alfred scream – so what if it was Alfred, and Dick was just helplessly hiding, letting Alfred get hurt, or worse, and-and-and-)
A few minutes later, when the cries had stopped, Alfred returned. Dick could finally breathe again. Alfred went to the sink, which was out of Dick’s line of sight. Dick listened to the tap turn on, and Alfred wash his hands. Dick wondered if he could come out of the cupboard now. The coast seemed clear, but Alfred had told him to wait until he let him out.
As he dried his hands off, Alfred stepped back into Dick’s sight. “It’s safe now, Master Dick,” Alfred said.
Dick tumbled out of the cupboard. He was too shaky to stand, so he crumbled onto the floor and stared up at Alfred, wide-eyed. Alfred was as put together as he always was. It didn’t look like he’d been in a fight, but, Dick realized distantly, Alfred was no longer wearing the white apron he’d had on earlier, and the kitchen knife was nowhere to be seen.
Alfred knelt down and wrapped Dick in a comforting hug. Dick clung to him. “You’re safe,” Alfred murmured. “It will alright, Master Dick.”
“I’m – I’m sorry. It’s my fault,” Dick said.
“The misdeeds of others are not your fault,” Alfred said firmly. “There is no need to apologize.”
“But they came for me,” Dick said.
“They came for Master Bruce’s money. Does that make this Master Bruce’s fault?” Alfred said.
Dick shook his head, but he couldn’t shake the nagging guilt.
“I have alerted Master Bruce. He will return soon,” Alfred said. “In the meantime, a bath might calm your nerves.”
Dick hesitated. “With bubbles?”
“Of course, Master Dick,” Alfred said fondly.
With surprising strength, Alfred lifted Dick up. Dick wrapped his arms around Alfred’s neck and rested his chin on Alfred’s shoulder. Bruce sometimes held him like this. The familiar hold was comforting.
“Keep your eyes closed until we are upstairs,” Alfred told him firmly.
Dick was a naturally curious boy, and usually he would want to see what Alfred had done to the intruders, but Dick had heard enough of the fighting to know that maybe he shouldn’t see. He obediently squeezed his eyes shut. There were a few groans of pain as they walked past the intruders. Dick stubbornly didn’t look until they were up the stairs.
To Dick’s relief, Alfred took Dick to Bruce’s bathroom, instead of Dick’s. Dick didn’t want to go anywhere near his room ever again. Alfred set Dick down on the bathroom counter and turned on the water in the tub. Dick chewed on Zitka’s ear as he watched Alfred bustle around the bathroom.
“Would you prefer a lavender or rose scented bath?” Alfred asked as he took out the fancy soap bottles.
“Um…” Dick wasn’t sure what to say. Usually Alfred chose.
“Lavender is helps with sleep,” Alfred said. “Would that do?”
Dick nodded.
Alfred added the soap to the tub and turned on the water jets. Soon the room smelled like flowers, and the tub was full of bubbles. Alfred turned off the water. “Would you like me to stay or wait in the other room?”
Dick let out an involuntary whimper of protest at the idea of Alfred leaving.
Alfred and Bruce never helped him shower or bathe. Dick liked being independent. Sometimes Alfred would help when Dick couldn’t figure out all the fancy bath knobs, but beyond that, Dick washed and dressed himself without help – regardless what the sketchy magazines that Bruce unsuccessfully hid from Dick said.
But Dick didn’t want Alfred to go. He knew it was ridiculous. He was safe. The intruders couldn’t hurt him anymore. But Dick still didn’t want to be alone.
“I’ll stay then,” Alfred said, and Dick relaxed. “Do you need help getting in the bath?”
Dick stared at the bubbles. Normally, he’d be excited to play and blow bubbles everywhere and make a soapy mess but not tonight. “Can, um, Zitka come too?”
“Unfortunately, no. I think she would like to watch from the sink, don’t you?” Alfred said.
Dick wasn’t stupid. He knew that Zitka wasn’t a real person with thoughts and feelings. But he also didn’t want her too far away. After hesitating for a moment, he propped Zitka up on the faucet knobs, so that she’d be within sight of the tub.
“Let me help you with your clothes,” Alfred said.
Alfred moved slowly, allowing Dick enough time to say no, before carefully unbuttoning Dick’s nightshirt. Dick didn’t say anything as Alfred helped Dick out of the rest of his pajamas and lifted him off the counter and into the tub, like he was a toddler.
The water was warm – so warm. Dick pulled his knees to his chest and watched the bubbles float in the air.
“Master Bruce enjoyed bubble baths too as a child,” Alfred told him in a hushed voice, as if relaying a secret.
“Really?” Dick said. He scrunched up his nose as he tried to picture the kid version of Bruce.
“He would make such a mess,” Alfred said fondly. “He liked to splash.”
Dick stared at Alfred and wondered if Alfred was making that up. Bruce splashing? Bruce was way too serious to have that kind of fun. “Are you sure?”
“I would never lie to you, Master Dick,” Alfred said solemnly. “Believe it or not, everyone starts out as a child.”
“Even you?” Dick said, disbelieving.
“Even me.”
As if to prove his point, Alfred flicked some water at Dick. Dick giggled and splashed a little back. Before long, the floor and Alfred were covered in soapy water. Dick had never seen Alfred so unkept.
Alfred smiled warmly, despite his damp clothes. “Let’s get you clean now, Master Dick.”
+++
As soon as Bruce had received the alert from Alfred, he had made his excuses to the charity event’s hostess and rushed to the manor. It still took him well over an hour to get home.
Alfred, Bruce knew, could handle himself, but Dick was young, mostly untrained, and vulnerable.
Bruce hadn’t received any updates since the alert. He made a mental note to update their alert system to include different codes. Before, it wouldn’t matter. An alert meant that he was need back at the manor, for a variety of reasons – Batman business, an attempt burglary, a visitor. With Dick now under his care, Bruce really would have liked more information on what he was walking into.
Just to be safe, Bruce quietly snuck into the manor through one of the back entrances. He didn’t know if Dick and Alfred were both still inside, but he didn’t want to call out and potentially forewarn anyone else that might be around.
He found five men in dark tactical gear unconscious or dead in the dining room. Their hands were bound with zip ties, and there was blood all over the wood floors. Bruce crouched down by one of the men. This one was clearly dead.
The gunshot in the man’s thigh looked like it came from Alfred’s favorite Walther pistol. Both of the man’s kneecaps had been shot, but none of those gun wounds had killed him. The first shot to the thigh would have temporarily subdued him, and the kneecapping meant that Alfred had attempted to extract information.
The slit throat – the cause of death – meant that Alfred either hadn’t been pleased by what he’d learned, or the interrogation hadn’t been informative enough to save the man’s life. The cut in the man’s throat was not deep enough to cause instant death. He had slowly choked on his own blood for at least a few minutes.
Which meant that Alfred was angry. Which meant that Dick had been involved.
Bruce quickly stood and followed the trail of bodies to the kitchen. It was empty, but the gun drawer was unlocked and missing Alfred’s Walther.
He checked the rest of the first floor with increasing unease. He found another man in tactical gear dead with a knife lodged firmly in his back, but there was no sign of Dick or Alfred.
When he went upstairs, he could hear the soft murmur of voices coming from his bedroom. Cautiously he entered.
Alfred and Dick were sitting on Bruce’s bed. Dick, wrapped in one of Bruce’s nightshirts, was curled up against Alfred, half-asleep.
“Welcome home, Master Bruce,” Alfred said calmly. “How was the gala?”
“Less exciting than the events of your evening,” Bruce said. He scanned Dick for injuries. “Are you alright, chum?”
Dick nodded wordlessly. His eyes were impossible wide as he stared at Bruce.
“They came in through his bedroom window,” Alfred said. “It gave him quite the scare.”
Bruce could feel his face hardening with anger. “They’ve been watching the manor,” he growled.
Dick was supposed to be safe at the manor. While Bruce had a normal security system for a billionaire, he had refrained from Batman-level security precautions to avoid suspicion. But with Dick in the manor, the risk was no longer worth it. First thing tomorrow, Bruce would make the manor more secure than the White House.
Bruce sat on the edge of the bed and carded his fingers through Dick’s hair. “Did they hurt you?” He forced his voice to be gentle.
Dick shook his head. “No. He barely touched me.”
“Good,” Bruce said. This time, he couldn’t hide the dark, pulsing hatred in his tone. If they had laid one finger on this child… “What do you mean, barely?”
Dick hesitated and then rolled up the too-big sleeve of the nightshirt, revealing finger-shaped bruises on his wrist. It took every ounce of self-control for Bruce to reign in his rage. “He grabbed me, but I got away,” Dick said. “It doesn’t really hurt.”
The bruises were light, but Dick shouldn’t be bruised at all.
Dick muffled a yawn with a hand and crawled onto Bruce’s lap, tucking his head against Bruce’s chest. “’m tired,” he said as his eyes fluttered shut.
“Master Dick insisted on staying awake until you returned home,” Alfred said.
Bruce smoothed Dick’s hair affectionately. “Ready for bed now, chum?”
“Don’t leave me,” Dick pleaded, turning his wide, scared eyes up towards Bruce.
Bruce’s heart ached, and he held Dick tighter. “You can stay here with me tonight, sweetheart.”
Dick closed his eyes again and slumped against Bruce. “Thanks.”
“There’s a mess for me to clean up downstairs,” Alfred said, standing.
“Do you need any help?” Bruce said.
Alfred’s smile was sharp. “I can handle it, sir.”
+++
“It’s been for five days,” Alfred said. “Master Dick still is afraid to go into his own room. He only sleeps when Master Bruce is by his side.”
There was no response.
“The manor became so lively when Master Dick arrived. I was so pleased when Master Bruce took in the boy. He is the closest I will ever have to a grandchild, I suspect.” Alfred continued sharpening his knife. “Do you have grandchildren, Mr. Cotteril?”
James stayed silent as his uninjured eye fixed on the blade.
“I expect not. Too young,” Alfred said. “A pity that you will never experience the joy that they bring.” He set down the whetstone. “Let’s begin again.”