They think of me as so reserved. They think of me as a rock. If they only knew how nights like this, even after all these years, make my knees weak and my insides turn to water. My name is Alfred Pennyworth, and tonight I am the only hope for Batman's survival.

I will admit that nights like tonight are usually quite rare. He has trained himself so well that he usually only suffers from some bruised knuckles and a few cuts. Except for the months between Jason's death and the arrival of Tim Drake Master Bruce almost never has nights like this, but even for The Batman, there is such a thing as a bad night. My face does not betray my horror when I first see Master Dick and Master Tim carrying him into the cave. How could I show them my horror? I am their anchor. I am their rock. I am their one constant tie to the real world that most everybody else lives in. I am their reminder that not everyone lives in this life and death vigilante struggle. For all of their sakes, I am strong.

"My word....." is the only thing I manage to say. On the inside I am screaming, "My son!!!! Why in God's name must he suffer so?" I know in my mind that he is not truly my son, at least not biologically. My heart is another matter. My heart tells me he is my child as surely as the sun will rise in the East. I raised him. I helped to train him. I counsel him. I tend to his health, both mental and physical.

"Alfred!! He's hurt!! We need your help!!" Master Dick yells to me from across the cave. With him it is the same as it is with Master Bruce. My mind tells me he is another man's son. In my heart, he is also my child and my responsibility. Raising Master Dick was an experience I will never forget, and one I would never trade for an easier existence. He brought light and laughter into this dreary mansion. He cast a light on the shadow of Bruce's heart that I was never truly able to do. Of course, Richard and Bruce are cut from the same cloth, they are very much the same and yet very much different. I am a better man having known them both. When they bleed, I bleed. When they cry, I cry. Yet my pain must be forever hidden from them. I am their anchor, I am their rock.

"It was a trap.... set by The Joker." Announces young Timothy. He is the newest, he has yet to learn that I really don't care to know the details of this incident. I simply want to tend to his wounds so that he may survive. He is one of the brightest young men I have ever met, and one of the kindest. I thought there would never be another Robin after Jason died, but Timothy has a way of making the impossible seem possible. I thought this young boy was an upstart child who had no respect for his elders when he was first brought here by Master Dick, thinking he knew every secret about The Batman and his troubles. Little did I know he was genuinely concerned for Master Bruce and Master Dick, even though he had never met Bruce before, and had only met Richard briefly as a very young child. I didn't know that his heart was so warm and noble. I sometimes think he has the best qualities of both Bruce and Richard.

I don't know exactly where I learned to do it, but I always manage to hide the fear and panic away in some compartment of my mind and methodically I tend to the worst of the master's pain. I am no doctor, and I fear that some night he may come in with wounds I cannot treat. Will he survive until Dr. Leslie Thompkins gets here? What if he gets a brain injury which even she cannot treat? Do I take him to an emergency room and to hell with his precious secret? I would certainly do that without a moments hesitation, but if he were to recover he would certainly be most upset at the revealing of his most precious secret. I hope silently to myself that I never ever see that time come.

They must never know about my sleepless nights. I worry about every one of them. Bruce. Richard. Timothy. They fight the worst scum Gotham and Bludhaven has to offer, two of the most dangerous cities on the face of the Earth. It could happen any day and it might never happen. I can only hope for the latter, and do my best to defeat the former.

He is still unconscious, but the worst seems to be over now. Nonetheless, my nerves will remain on end until I actually see him regain consciousness. The waiting is the worst part of it all. Waiting for him to open his eyes, hoping he will recognize us, hoping that his brain is not damaged in some way. Richard and Timothy pace back and forth as I fix herbal tea for them, hoping to calm them. I hope they do not notice the slight shake of my hand as I pour the liquid. What would they do if they saw that I was not as confident as I seem? They must never know, for I am their rock. I am their anchor.

"He's coming around!" Timothy yells into the kitchen, practically scaring me to death. I take a moment to compose myself and enter his room. Richard and Timothy are at the foot of his bed, worried looks on their faces. I enter with the casual air of a nurse taking a patients temperature. I sit beside him on the bed. I insist that the first face he is to see be mine. His eyelids flutter a moment, and then slowly open. He hasn't focused them yet, and not for the first time I wonder if he will be able to focus them on anything.

After what seems an eternity but which is only a few seconds, he begins to look AT me. He is wondering where he is, and how he got here.

"You're home Master Bruce. All is well." I whisper to him.

Finally he half smiles at me, "A..... Alfred?"

Only then do I permit relief to wash over me like a tidal wave. "Yes sir, it is I."

I feel Richard's hand squeeze my shoulder, and I reach up and squeeze back. No more words are needed as dawn breaks and the crisis ends.... until tomorrow night at least. When that time comes I will once again resume my air of infallibility, for I am their rock.

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