Alfred:

I wait impatiently for the Car to arrive. According to Bruce, Tim was dosed with quite a bit more fear toxin than either he or Dick received, and considering that among them, Tim has the least body mass…Fortunately, they all had the anti-toxin. Though it may counteract some of the more severe reactions, it probably won't neutralise all of them.

We've learned the hard way that time and rest is the only way to completely rid one's system of the toxin. However, I suspect none of us will be getting much sleep tonight. Nightmares.

Finally, they arrive, and I guide Tim to the medbay. Poor boy's shaking like a leaf. He appears quite lucid, but still on edge.

"This totally sucks." I concur with Tim's assessment. After taking a sample for the toxicology screen, I send him off to the showers; one never knows what other infectious agents were out there.

They're arguing again. Or, more precisely, Dick is yelling, Bruce is silent. Dick is extremely angry; he normally tones down his language when he knows I'm in the vicinity. It must be the toxin.

Although I applaud the fact that Dick and Barbara are more romantically involved, I truly wish he wouldn't pick up her…colorful euphemisms. Roy Harper is a saint when compared to Barbara in one of her moods.

Tim finally emerges from the shower, skin still slightly flushed from the heat, eyes at half-mast. The adrenaline has worn off. I secure the robe more tightly around his thin form and almost drag him to the elevator. The poor boy makes an effort to walk, but he's so drowsy that his stumbling is more of a hindrance. I steer him to a wheelchair, and he drops into it, oblivious to everything around him. Before we continue, I check to make sure he's merely asleep instead of unconscious.

As I make another attempt to take him to the upper levels, I notice that Dick is still going on. As yet, Bruce has said nothing, which worries me. Bruce's silences mean that he's internalising, and in light of the fact that he, too, must still be feeling the effects of the toxin, this does not bode well. If the matter is not resolved by the time I return, I'll personally force both of them to bed.

I never claimed to be a pacifist.

As I tuck Tim in, he rouses from his sleep.

"alfie, please, light…?"

Ah yes. I leave a lamp on. I go off and rummage around for one of Bruce's old teddy bears and lay it next to Tim. He may be embarrassed in the morning, but if it gives him comfort tonight, it'll be worth it.

I make my way back "downstairs" with the wheelchair, prepared to stick either one or both in it if need be.

I must say, after the yelling, the tableau before me is quite unexpected.

They're hugging.

It seems as if some good came out of this after all. Their mental defences must've been lowered enough by the toxin to allow them to express themselves. As much as it warms my heart to see it, I know it must come to an end. If I were to learn anything from my experience with Tim, it's that I won't be able to carry them to bed.

I see my opportunity when they finally pull back from each other. I clear my throat.

"Young sirs, it is time to go to bed."

They both exchange a fond glance before turning to me.

Dick stretches. "He's right, Bruce, I'd better be going home now."

I raise an eyebrow.

"…um, or not. Maybe I'll just crash here tonight?" I nod in approval. Dick looks at me. I point to the showers. "I'm gonna hit the showers, and I'll be up soon?" I nod again, and Dick looks relieved at answering correctly.

"Sounds good, chum. I'll be up after I update…"

I raise the other eyebrow.

"I think I'll change and take my shower upstairs." I stare at Bruce for good measure. "And I'm going right now. This instant." I nod.

I wait for Bruce to change and enter the elevator before I follow him up; I want to make sure he doesn't linger behind to do more work. A stubborn one, is my eldest. Dick knows he'd best come up quickly for I've little to no patience if my boys neglect to rest when they're able.

Sometimes a little fear can be a good thing.

End