Bruce smiled as he read through the document again, he hummed a little to himself at a particularly good point. Tim grimaced as Bruce looked at him over the large desk. "What do you think? Language too flowery? Not flowery enough? God, it sounds like a ten year old wrote it, right? I'll rewrite it, maybe I should pick a different subject..." Tim reached to take the paper out of Bruce's hand.

"Tim. Stop. Please, it is excellent, one of the most interesting book reports I have ever read. Who knew The Scarlett letter had so many parallels with To Kill A Mockingbird. Very interesting, I'm sure you'll get an A." Seeing the stricken look on Tim's face Bruce quickly amended "Plus, I'm sure you'll get an A plus".

Tim brightened a little. "You don't think I should have chosen Oliver Twist and Jane Eyre?" Before Bruce could reassure the young man, Alfred entered the room after a brief knock at the open door.

"Master Bruce, there is a... gentleman waiting outside to speak with you." Alfred was not happy, that much was clear to Bruce after being raised by the man, but the cause of his out of character gruffness completely baffled him.

Tim gaped at the butler from his chair opposite Bruce, "You left a guest outside? You? Alfred Pennyworth?" Before Tim could tease the man further, Bruce left his chair to follow Alfred to the entrance hall.

"What's this about Alfred? Not another reporter is it?" He paled and stopped Alfred with a hand on his shoulder, "It's not that damn social worker again is it? I'll sue, I swear I will. This is harassment." The butler's face softened at the obvious distress in his oldest charge's face.

"No master Bruce, it is Captain Rogers, or America as I believe he is generally referred to. He seemed quite incapable of informing me why he wanted to see you, so I thought it best to have him wait outside in case he was here to cause trouble." The wrinkle between Bruce's brows deepened as he took in the information.

"Rogers? What the hell does he want, I thought I made it clear after that business in New York that we wanted nothing to do with him. Alfred could you check on the boys? And make sure they don't see him. I'll take care of this."

Bruce braced himself before striding towards the door and swinging it open. Rogers turned to face him, guilt written all over his face. "Captain Rogers. How can I help you?" Rogers rubbed his palms on his pant legs, practically stinking of nerves. Interesting.

Steve tried to pull himself together, he tried to remember his training but the army had never really covered telling someone that their son who they had thought dead was actually alive and quite possibly brain damaged. Never mind that he had previously accused Wayne of abusing said son. Hydra goons and AIM henchmen he could handle but this stuff made him shake in the way jumping out of planes and kicking ass just didn't. Steve drew his shoulders back and took a deep breath, "Mr Wayne, we need to talk."

"Shit!" Tony cursed as he banged his head on the underside of the car he'd been working on. The tower's alarm screeched in his ears. The suit snapped into place as he made his way to the main floor where the alarm had first gone off.

"Sir, intruders on level 40, sleeping quarters." Informed Jarvis. Jason was Tony's first thought. Level 40 was the floor he had been housed on, close to the others living quarters. Tony made it to the source of the problem, Clint was practically hanging from the window in just boxer shorts firing arrows, Natasha was seemingly unconscious slumped next to Jason's bed. Bruce crouched beside her examining her neck.

"Fuck!" Clint threw his bow against the wall, "They were too fast. They took him, Stark. They just came in and took him. The alarms didn't even go off until Tasha managed to press the emergency button. She was on the floor when I got in here. I wasn't quick enough."

Bruce looked up from where he crouched, "She's ok, they injected her with some kind of sedative but her pulse is steady."

Tony took off the helmet, "Did either of you get a look at the assailants? Jarvis can't pull up the footage."

Clint looked grim as he turned away from the window, "Ninjas, Stark. Fucking ninjas."

Rogers set down his phone, his faced drained of colour. Bruce raised an eyebrow in question. "Mr Wayne," Rogers cleared his throat. "Do you know of any, um ninjas who might want to harm or kidnap Jason?"

Bruce felt his already leaden gut tighten, oh yes he knew someone with the means and motive to take his son. The only question was how the hell did she know Jason was alive when he had only just found out himself. "Rogers, have them turn the Jet around. I need to confer with a contact in Gotham. He'll know what to do."

"Mr Wayne, I don't think any contacts you have even in Gotham PD will be able to help in this situation." Bruce brushed of Roger's concerns.

"My contact works outside the police department his resources are reach much farther." Bruce was already firing off messages on his phone.

Steve realised who Wayne meant. Of course a Gothamite would rather trust the safety of his son to the Batman and of course someone like Bruce Wayne would have the vigilante on speed dial.