A portrait of a family looms over the fireplace. The parents lost long ago who still look after him from their silent perch. However, they weren't the only ones on the mantle now. He had a new family. It wouldn't replace the family of the past but the family of the present eased the loss that still bored a hole in his heart as well as his soul.

Was I good enough? Was any of it good enough?

Oddly enough this was not the first time the thought came to mind. Despite what others may think of Mr. Bruce Wayne billionaire extradinaire, he did feel and he did think about the wellbeing of his family. He was not simply a handsome face that held bags of money.

Staring into the faces of the several photos along the mantle he studied them as he did everything else. Meticulously. The photos had been framed and set out by his butler, Alfred. Sentimental old man truly thought he needed to see these faces. As if seeing them made them closer.

Alfred always has been overly optimistic.

The first photo was of his latest addition to his odd roguish family. His son.

Damian. Even mentally he said the name with an uncomfortable sigh.

The scowl the boy usually wore was present but not as stern. His eyes had softened and one could argue he almost had a Mona Lisa smile. Damian's arms were crossed over his suited chest and his left brow was raised. He was clearly amused by the photographer.

The next photo was older but not by much. It was of Cassandra, Stephanie, and Barbara. They had gone to one of the various Wayne charity functions together. Cassandra had been more than disgruntled over being "forced" to go, but had gone nevertheless for Barbara.

It had been a hard time for her. She had needed someone.

Stephanie had been only too thrilled to dress up in a beautiful ball gown and dance around with handsome men all night.

He walked up to the fireplace feeling the warm arm of the fire curl around his legs. He looked closely at the photo and a face he had known since…he stopped. He had almost thought 'she had learned to walk' and threw the idea from his mind.

Bruce continued to go down the line of pictures that vaguely represented his history and those involved in it. Some were more discomforting than others. Those of Jason he would rather avoid and not because the boy was a disgrace but because Wayne himself had been. Jason was the embodiment of a time Bruce had been lost. Almost as lost as he had been when…no, not even close to as lost as when his parents…he had been lost in a different way.

That thought brought him to the next picture. Two boys, alike in look but not in age or personality. The eldest son and his third son stood together. Tim had been the youngest then.

I still don't know how he got him to take that picture. Bruce almost smiled.

Dick Grayson Wayne and Tim Drake Wayne stood together, smiling so brightly their faces must have been in pain. Dick had the younger man in a headlock and the younger boy was punching at the elder's side.

Ah, yes, that's how he did it. And he did smile then.

"Aw, c'mon! You know this is a good idea."

"Uh, no, actually I don't. Don't you have something better you should be doing? Like actual work?"

"You don't think this is work?" Dick fiddled with the camera and set it on the tripod as he walked around it towards Tim.

"Okay, but just take it and get it over with. I have things I need to do."

"Like make out with a certain bl-OW!" Dick rubbed his head, having just been smacked with a rolled up magazine. Forbes magazine. With a picture of Bruce Wayne on it.

"I said I'd do this. For Alfred and that's it. He keeps saying he wants a nice picture to send to Leslie since she's been away on 'business'." Tim informed, taking on the older brother role despite being significantly younger.

"Yeah, yeah, just say 'cheese'." Dick turned to face the camera and readied himself for the flash. Right when he was sure they were both looking ahead for the picture he swung an arm around Tim's neck and hooked his fist under his chin to pull him close for a noogey but Tim was ready with a quick jab to the ribs.

Bruce had come walking past the room right when the flash went off and had come into the room to see what all the bickering had been about.

Surprisingly, the picture had come out rather well… Bruce thought as his reverie slipped from him as the last few years came back to him. The years that followed this photo were filled with tragedy and hurt. But how long had it truly been? Five? Six? More years than he cared to admit?

As Bruce contemplated the years and the lives lost and lived he came to one photo that struck him with more force and far more discomfort than any of the others, possibly combined.

The photo with a young boy and his parents drew his attention. He looked happy, complete. With two loving hands on his shoulders he looked into the camera with clear blue eyes that seemed so hopeful and sure.

We understood each other then. Rather well, actually. Bruce felt his breath catch before he took the photo and sat down. Running a hand over the photo he mused at how simplicity is a blessing and ignorance can truly be bliss.

They all leave eventually. It is all so simple in the beginning. One after another, gone.

"Master Bruce?" A knock brought his focus back on the present.

Standing in the doorway was Alfred. Clearly he had been standing there for some time, trying to catch his attention.

"Yes, Alfred?" He composed himself and moved to return the photo to its rightful place.

"You're needed downstairs." Alfred replied in his regal, calming way that was an incalculable blessing.

"I'll be right down, Alfred."

"Very well, sir." Alfred turned and left.

Bruce made his way down the stairs, his callused palm fixing on the wooden banister as he stepped into the foyer. He peered into the study/living room to see them all waiting. Stephanie was setting on the couch listening to Damian's rants on her incompetence. Cassandra was looking over Barbara's shoulder as Barbara explained a new stealth technology she felt Cassandra would be best to fit first given her training. Tim was standing by the China cabinet, looking over various antiques and gauging their make and history. Finally, there was Dick who was speaking to Alfred with a broad smile on his face.

It was Dick who saw Bruce first and offered a greeting. Everyone looked up and he received a few smiles and nods. Tim came over and offered a firm handshake.

"Just because I'm not Batman anymore doesn't mean I can't come over whenever I want right?" Dick grinned. Damian was standing in front of Dick, staring at Bruce as if daring his father to argue Dick's point.

"Dick did this." Tim offered. "I swear. If you were busy we're sor-"

Bruce held up a hand to silence the apology that was unwarranted and motioned for all of them to go into the dining room. As large as the table was they would all comfortably be seated and still have plenty of empty seats.

"We really should have called." Stephanie added bashfully, standing in front of Bruce.

"Nah, I know it would have been left to me and I'm on communications enough as it is. I'll take a couple hours without a microphone attached to my head, thanks." Barbara wheeled past Stephanie.

"It is no problem. Right?" Cassandra wanted to be certain, as always.

Bruce simply nodded, feeling Alfred come up behind him to offer an explanation.

"Master Dick called earlier to inquire about your night's schedule, sir. I told him you were uncertain as to what your dinner plans were for the evening and he decided he'd take the opportunity since it so seldom given."

"Very well, Alfred." Bruce replied.

Of course Alfred had already planned ahead and had dinner prepared and would be bringing it out momentarily. Everyone was seated when Bruce walked in. The seat at the head of the table was left open for Bruce, Tim and Dick on either side. Damian sat on Dick's other side with Stephanie just beside him and Barbara and Cassandra across from them. They were already passing salad bowls and breadbaskets around. Alfred may have over done it for the seven of them but leftovers were welcome. They could all take some home when they left.

Bruce took his seat and placed his cloth napkin on his lap, looking around as the bread was passed to him. Dick smiled with a nod and took up his fork to start eating.

"How is it?" Bruce offered to start the conversation, as awkward as the attempt was.

Instead of responding on the food or the atmosphere Dick did something he was well known for. Lightening the mood.

"For a family dinner? I'd say we didn't do half bad. Its good enough for me."