"Master Wayne..." Alfred's voice seemed like the only real thing in Bruce's world. He glanced up from the table, where he had been staring at a small scratch for almost an hour, and met Alfred's eyes. They were red-rimmed and puffy; as if he had been crying all night, and might still burst back into tears at any given moment. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

"No. Take the rest of the day off."

Alfred shook his head, pulling out a small cloth and starting to wipe the dust off the back of each computer monitor hanging on the wall. "I will have to decline that offer, sir. I would prefer to keep working...and I'm worried about you."

"Don't." Bruce said, as if that single word would be enough to erase all concern. "I'm fine."

"Bruce, please. You can lie to everyone else but it won't work on me."

Bruce's gaze faltered back towards the scratch on the table top. Alfred hadn't used his first name since he was a teenager. It was so rare, hearing 'Bruce' instead of 'sir' or 'Master Wayne', that he suddenly felt like a child again - being scolded by his butler because his parents could no longer fill the role.

"I know," Alfred continued sadly. "It's just how you cope, but it's not healthy."

"It's fine-"

"Do you remember your parents funeral? You didn't cry. Not at all. I scarcely think you even breathed. You were like a statue. I knew that something was wrong, that this was a sign of horrible trauma, but I said nothing. I did nothing. I thought that it would pass in time, but to this day you turn into that same statue whenever you grieve. I'm telling you this, as a friend, you need to mourn Jason. You can't just pretend like it didn't happen."

"Whose pretending?!" Bruce finally roared, throwing his chair back and towering over the old man angrily. "I know what happened! I don't need you to remind me!"

Alfred, calm as ever, didn't even flinch as he said "then why didn't you attend his funeral? And why won't you let me clear out his old room? Why do you have his back-up suit sitting on its hanger like he's going to come in and claim it? Master Wayne, I understand that you have an important job that can't afford the distraction...but when you're out of that costume, you need to mourn him properly. He wasn't just a partner to Batman, he was a son. Just as you are like a son to me."

"That's enough, Alfred." Bruce finally said, though there was a sense of defeat in his voice that had scarcely been heard before. "You're dismissed."

Alfred knew better than to argue. He tucked the cloth back into his pocket, but did so with a deliberate slowness. Maybe it was his way of ensuring that Bruce had company for at least a few seconds longer. "As you wish...Master Wayne."

He shambled away, and Bruce was suddenly struck by how old he had gotten...how frail he looked compared to the burly veteran that he had once known. He averted his gaze back to that scratch, not allowing his mind to linger on the thought of yet another impending loss. Not when Jason's death was still so fresh, searing through his chest like acid. Then there was Barbara...bound to a wheelchair with no hope of regaining any mobility in her legs. All of this because he wasn't fast enough.

The unwelcome sound of footsteps pierced the air once more, and this time Bruce pushed out of his chair with every intention of dragging Alfred out and locking the door behind him...but it wasn't Alfred. Bruce suddenly wished that it was.

"You have my condolences," Rahn said, and though her voice was usually so emotionless, there was a hint of something behind it. Not quite sorrow or grief, more like disappointment. "The small bird had potential, what happened to him is a shame."

Bruce scoffed in disbelief. Potential? Shame? He knew she was a little naïve about human emotions and customs but it was still a very odd way to phrase it. Somehow, though, that weird sentiment provided a small modicum of relief. She wasn't fussing over him or pushing her own methods of mourning onto him, she was just stating a fact. Clear. To the point. Downplaying it, as horrible as it seemed, made it easier to function through it.

"Is that all you came here to say?" Bruce sighed, all his previous hostility exhausted on Alfred.

"No. I also thought you might want to turn on the news. Channel five."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at her, but complied nonetheless. There, in the middle of the screen, was Commissioner Gordon. He was addressing a crowd of reporters, swarming the podium like vultures.

"-a tragedy, but are you implying that Batman knew Jason Todd was a minor before recruiting him?" one of the reporters asked.

"That's the question. I can't imagine how he couldn't know, they'd been working together for years, but we'll need to question him to confirm it. Either way, the GCPD are no longer working with Batman. He should be considered a fugitive and apprehended as soon as possible. If anyone has any information about his whereabouts, or God willing, his identity, we encourage you to step forward."

Gordon looked like he had aged ten years overnight. His hair was askew and much greyer than Bruce remembered, his eyes were barely visible within the dark circles surrounding them, and his hands were visibly shaking against the podium. Bruce swiftly turned the television back off. He didn't want to see Gordon in such a state, but he couldn't blame him for his sudden distaste for Batman. He had gotten a teenager killed. He had failed to protect Jason, and Gordon's own daughter. He deserved to be locked in the darkest pits of Arkham...and yet he couldn't allow it. Crime was still rampant, and the honest truth was that Bruce was selfish. He always had been. He knew it, Alfred knew it, Jason and Barbara had both known it. There was a good bet that Rahn was starting to realise that truth as well. Bruce simply couldn't stop fighting. He couldn't surrender himself to prison with so many more criminals to punish.

"They are hunting you now, yes?" Rahn said, watching Bruce carefully for any reaction. She couldn't find any more than that same emptiness that had been present since Jason's death. "The penis might turn you in. He knows your identity."

"For the last time his name is Dick," Bruce snapped, not even remotely amused. "and he won't."

"Are you certain? He is still quite angry with you, probably even more so now."

"Yes, I'm certain."

"And will the butler-?"

"No." Bruce glared at her, as if the very suggestion had pissed him off. Rahn held her hands up in surrender and shrugged.

"Very well, as long as you are sure. What will you do now, then?"

"What I always do." Bruce answered bluntly, turning back to his monitor and sifting through any recent reports of criminal activity.

The right side of Rahn's lips quirked up into something that resembled a smile, but only barely. She was glad to see that he wasn't hanging up his cowl prematurely. "Perhaps I can help with that."

Rahn dug into her pocket and threw something onto the desk in front of Bruce. It was a finger. A human finger. It was severed at the knuckle and had a tiny flower sprouting from beneath the nail. Bruce didn't move. He simply stared at the finger and said "Where did you get this?"

"From a corpse. Clearly."

Bruce scowled. "Yes, but where?"

"Midtown. Near the Botanical Gardens."

Bruce straightened and moved towards his suit; which was presently splayed across a work station covered with simple gadgets that he had been tinkering with. He couldn't work on any of the bigger projects, he left those to Lucius Fox, but simple things like replacing blades was easy work.

"Your family owns the Botanical Gardens, do they not?" Rahn asked, watching curiously as Bruce took off his shirt. His back was toned, but riddled in large scars. Some extended from his shoulders all the way to his waist, others were so deep that they had healed in perculiar shapes.

"It was founded by my mother."

"An odd place to hide then, if it is owned by such a powerful family," Rahn pondered. "I am assuming this is the same entity that caused that mess at Arkham. I have studied the photos you sent, but have not been able to determine any explanation. This is beyond science."

"Yeah," Bruce retorted in a way that sounded suspiciously like 'I told you so'.

Bruce kicked off his pants and Rahn tilted her head to the side, fascinated. He was still wearing his underwear, but she couldn't help but notice the way this body reacted to the sight. She had never been 'attracted' to anyone before. At least not in the way humans always spoke about. She thought that Superman would make powerful offspring, but that was where it ended. She didn't feel 'drawn' to him. Not like Dick was drawn to Kori, or Jason was drawn to Barbara. Now, though, she did feel something. It was fragile, this feeling, and yet powerful enough to give her pause. Images of their shared kiss suddenly invaded her mind, and she found that she was more than eager to do it again.

Rahn realised now why humans were so far behind most of the universe. They were too caught up in these strange urges. She needed to take note of it, maybe explore it at a later date. For research purposes, if nothing else.

Bruce must have noticed her watching but he didn't seem to care. Maybe because he was too eager to find Poison Ivy...he needed the distraction. He needed the fight. Or maybe the distraction came in Rahn's interest. He would happily throw all his caution to the wind if it meant forgetting about what happened, even for one moment.

Once Bruce had finished securing his suit, he pulled the cowl over his face and finally turned to face Rahn. She hadn't stopped watching him even for a moment. "Tell Alfred I'll be gone a while."

Rahn huffed. It was a surprisingly human response considering how impassive she could usually be. "Do I look like a slave to you?"

Bruce felt a flicker of amusement spark inside of him, but it flared and died within seconds and he was left with only the memory of it - a feeling of something other than self-loathing.

"I will meet you there. I am the one that found it after all."

Bruce blinked and she was already gone, leaving before he had a chance to argue. Not that he would. He didn't have the energy to be wasting it on such a frivolous task. Still, part of him was grateful that Rahn had shown up when she did. He had been five minutes from losing his mind, but now he had a mission. A purpose. Something to help push Jason to the back of his mind - to the deepest confines where only the memories of his parents still lingered.

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Well I've been gone for a hot minute, but I've finally found some motivation again xD I hope there's still people left that are interested in this story after that long hiatus 😂