"Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story
of that man skilled in all ways of contending,
the wanderer, harried for years on end,
after he plundered the stronghold
on the proud height of Troy.

He saw the townlands
and learned the minds of many distant men,
and weathered many bitter nights and days
in his deep heart at sea, while he fought only
to save his life, to bring his shipmates home.
But not by will nor valor-

The narrator paused in his retelling and thought briefly on the words he spoke.

"I have to say," the boy spoke. "this is not what I had in mind when I said 'epic'."

"You cannot get more 'epic' than 'The Odyssey', Master Dick."

Alfred, the butler and father figure to too many orphans, sat on the made bed and paged through the old book he found resting on the dresser. The echoes of his memory sounded out the conversation he had but not a few weeks ago.

"I was thinking comic books."

"Comic books," the echo of himself sounded in distain at the subject matter, "will never be as good as the Classics."

They were halfway through the story before-

Alfred slammed the book shut with a heavy heart before his mind could escape to dreadful thoughts. He only came into the barren room to clean up. Knowing Master Bruce was putting all his efforts into finding the missing boy meant that Alfred had to make sure everything else was kept up for when the young boy came home.

No, it was better to ruminate on the past than to face the uncertainty of the future.

"But not by will nor valor could he save them,
for their own recklessness destroyed them all —"

Master Dick arched an eyebrow. "I'm not sure this story is suitable for me," he joked. "This seems violent. I am impressionable, you know."

"I will remember that the next time you spend the night dressed up to battle Gotham's criminals."

The boy laughed.

Alfred took a deep breath and then another when the first did not help his composure. After the third, he got up and fled the room before the memories could overwhelm his heart.

He needed to do something useful, so his feet brought him into the kitchen to make tea for Master Bruce. The man had not moved from his spot in front of the computer since that tragic night and any bit of comfort in a cup of tea would be a blessing.

He feared this. Ever since Master Dick decided to go out into the city's darkest corners in the brightest costume, Alfred feared these moments.

'Come home safe,' Alfred prayed every night. 'One more night safe. One more birthday safe.'

They celebrated Master Dick's twelve birthday four months ago. They had chocolate cake with whip- cream frosting: half eaten and half ended up a mess in the dining room during an impromptu food fight.

He could not bear the thought there would be no more birthdays.

"It's tragic more than epic if you ask me, Al."

"Why do you say that?" the memory asked in curiosity.

"Odysseus was gone for ten years at war, got lost, battled these monsters along the way.." So he did pay attention to Alfred's summation. The man had wondered.

"but all he wanted to do was to go home."

"Well, it would not be epic, would it not, without something to fight for?"

Missing, not dead. It was more than Alfred could ever hope and yet the worst time he has ever experienced. Master Bruce described the creature they battled. A woman and yet a monster for what she did.

Something had set her in a frensy that made her open some sort of portal. It took Robin before either of them could react.

Missing, not dead.

"Children and fools, they killed and feasted on
the cattle of Lord Hêlios, the Sun,
and he who moves all day through the heaven
took from their eyes the dawn of their return…"

Alfred sat at the kitchen table, the tea long forgotten and cold. His head laid out onto his arms as if the weight of his grief could no longer bear the burden of gravity.

"Please keep him safe," he pleaded to anyone or anything who would listen. God. Gods. Any protectors who cared to look over young, mislaid heroes, if there were any.

"Please bring him home."