Perry

The new young master--Alfred refrains from referring to him as such near Bruce, stubborn and grief-blind as he currently is--kicks his feet back and forth, tongue poking out just a bit as he scribbles intently at his homework. Alfred does not regret insisting that the boy come spend his after school hours at the manor when his parents are away, even if it drove Bruce into hiding in the Batcave for even more hours than before. While Alfred's son is grieving, he has rejected attempts at comfort, and he is a grown man. Tim may not be Alfred's child or even his ward in any proper sense, but Alfred has never been the kind of man who would stand by and abet the degree of the Drakes' neglect for their son to go uncontested.

"If I might inquire, Master Tim, what are you working on?"

The boy looks up, his legs stilling and his expression all at once shifting from open focus to guarded politeness. "My homework."

Alfred nods. "So I see. I have little knowledge of what a current curriculum for your grade might cover, though, and I would be interested in hearing about your studies if you would like to share."

It aches to see how cautious the boy clearly is, expecting a trap in any indication of attention or interest. Alfred merely waits, attempting to project only calm curiosity.

"Oh," Tim finally says. "Well, I'm working on this algebra problem right now..." he trails off, still appearing painfully unsure.

"I always enjoyed maths," Alfred offers. "Although I never progressed much beyond the basic classes I took in my youth. Are you enjoying it?"

Tim brightens, and then seems to catch himself, dimming his enthusiasm somewhat before he replies. "Yeah. It's interesting. It's kind of like a puzzle, you know? Except there's so many different ways to get to the right answer, and sometimes if I'm bored I'll try and figure out how many different ways I can find. You know?"

A great detective in the making, Alfred thinks, not without a little bit of sadness. He understands Tim's reasons for wanting to take up the Robin mantle; Alfred cannot truthfully say he disagrees with them. But he disagrees with allowing more children into this life, no matter how trapped Bruce may feel by Tim's ultimatum. "I'll admit, I was always more keen on finding one way to solve as many problems as I could," Alfred admits. "Would you show me what you're working on there? I'd like to see how you're addressing it."

"Yeah!" Tim agrees, pushing his notes over a little so that Alfred can come stand beside him, peering over his shoulder. His work is laid out neatly, and Alfred finds it easy to follow for all that it sometimes veers off toward the edges of the page, turning to cram all of the equations into some semblance of the same space.

They discuss the maths until it is nearly time for patrol. Alfred fights the urge to keep Tim here, safe in the warm glow of the kitchen lights, for the rest of the night. But perhaps... "Would you like some hot chocolate before you go out?"

Tim nods, hesitation eased away by their lengthy discussion. "Yes please! Thank you, Alfred."

As he prepares the hot chocolate for Tim and some tea for himself, Alfred finds that he is grateful for Tim's presence, both in this kitchen and in his life, no matter what brought him here. The past is done, but he will do his best to prevent them all from making the same mistakes. For Tim's sake, he hopes he succeeds.