There used to be laughter on the manor. Not Master Dick's famous laughter that warms everyone, but another laughter that would make everyone either groaned in frustration or smiled in amusement.

Master Jason was usually the first one to wake up; patrol or no patrol the boy will surely be the one to walk down to the kitchen, giggled when he found the old, loyal butler already working on breakfast and he let out an excited greeting.

"Morning, Alfred!" It was like that every day, every morning, from the same little boy who endured enough pain through his short life.

"Good morning, Master Jason." And the answer would be same, every day, every morning, from the same man who has seen enough for a man in a lifetime.

Master Jason would flashed him a grin, took a seat on the island just in time as Alfred placed a cup of instant hot chocolate in front of him. Master Jason would offer him a small thank you, before sipping on the hot beverage no matter what time in the year. Be it winter or spring or fall or summer. Halfway through the cup, the boy would stood up, asked him if Alfred need any help and the old butler would send him to prepare the plates and table, also a cup of coffee for Master Bruce and a cereal box with a carton of fresh milk if Master Dick decided to stay the night.

Master Jason would give him a short nod, before he went to do his chores.

The boy moved from one place to another with such ease, something even Master Bruce hasn't mastered yet. He set the table just in time for Alfred to finish preparing breakfast and the remaining Masters to wake up and head down.

Master Bruce would smile at the sight, he would ruffled the boy's black hair as he greeted them both good morning before he sat down and took a sip of his black coffee, just like his soul, if Master Jason had his way. And then, if he decided to stay, Master Dick would enter the kitchen with such energy, with such brightness and greet everyone good morning before he swept Master Jason off his feet to give him a tight hug, wasn't even bothered when he practically holding a 14-year-old boy like a baby. Because apparently to him, his Little Wing would always be his Little Wing, his baby brother and he would hug him like no tomorrow even when he's 15 years old, or 16, or 17, or even 18.

And Alfred would winced the thought. Because no matter how much Master Dick wanted to hug his Little Wing, Master Jason wasn't there to receive it.

A few months after Master Jason started living in the Manor, Alfred found a heart-warming fact about the boy. The boy, despite born and bred on the rough part of Gotham, wanted nothing more but to feel helpful, wanted nothing more than to help people. So it wasn't rare for Alfred to have the boy tailing behind him on a supermarket.

Master Jason insisted that he'd be the one to push the trolley, so Alfred can just focused on the grocery list and picking it up and place it on the trolley. Master Jason didn't say much, but he let out a few comments here and there on the products Alfred chose, mostly about how he didn't like a particular product and would rather chose another. And Alfred would smile, chuckled maybe, as he went to change the products.

Alfred never went to the beverage section, mostly because Master Bruce preferred coffee beans he bought straight from the farmer and how Alfred himself didn't trust instant drink enough. But as the two passed the section, Master Jason stopped, his eyes went scanning the racks until it landed on a particular item.

He directed the trolley to the rack, picked one small box and showed it to Alfred.

"Can we buy this?" He asked, a bit timid than Alfred's liking at the time.

"Master Jason," Alfred looked closely at it, it was a box of instant hot chocolate, the one with too many artificial sugar, "if you want hot chocolate, I'm sure we can find a better one. One without... too much sugar on it."

Master Jason looked to the side, "I like this one. And also. . . my mom used to bought me this."

The old man stiffened, but it didn't take him less than a second to relaxed back. He offered the young lad a gentle smile. "Well, if you like it so much, I don't see why not."

Master Jason's face brightened, his eyes glowed just like the day he was officially adopted and the warmth feeling spread across Alfred's chest. He quickly put the package down on the trolley and the bright smile never left his face for the rest of the day.

Since then, Alfred never forgets to buy that particular instant hot chocolate whether Master Jason was there with him for grocery shopping or not, because he'd promised himself to keep that smile protected as long as he could.

It was hard to think that was the same smile that suddenly disappeared and flew to Israel, harder when that was the same smile they had to put six feet under.

And it was even harder when he unconsciously placed it on the trolley, despite knowing no one would drink it on the Manor.

No one never knew how, but Alfred always knew when one of his boys had a nightmare. When Master Bruce was little, just barely a boy who suddenly had to face the world alone, he would had constant nightmare but wouldn't ask Alfred to soothe it down. Instead, he'd walked around the manor until he felt sleepy enough or Alfred found him wondering on the hallways and offered him a short late night snack. Though that stopped when the boy turned 14.

When Master Dick was little, the nightmares wasn't as constant as Master Bruce's, but on days like the anniversary of his parents death or on nights after a particularly bad mission that result either him or Master Bruce or his teammates in danger, there would be a loud screaming that tore the silent into half and one second later Alfred would hear Master Bruce's hurried footsteps to the boy's room.

On some nights, that would be the end, but on some, the cry won't stop until he poured the father and son duo two cups of hot chocolate—not the one with too much sugar on it—walked to Master Dick's bedroom, opening the door slowly before he gently place a tray filled with cocoa and a plates of warm cookies. The next day, Master Dick would come to him, smiling at him and deliver his gratitude for last night. And Alfred would smile back at him, assuring him that he was only doing his job.

But there's something different for Master Jason, something special. The boy learned how to silence himself, that's what the streets taught him when he had no choice but to sleep on dark alleyways with drunken people right around the corner. It was rare for Master Jason to wake up screaming, but when he did, Master Bruce would jumped and dashed as fast as he could, because the sound of your son screaming had him so much agony he wished to soothe it as soon as possible.

Most of the nights where Master Jason had nightmare, he woke up in abrupt movement, jumped from his bed and then placed his hand on his chest in an attempt to calm his racing heart down.

Alfred would have this unease feeling on his chest on those nights. He would turn and toss around in his bed, unable to sleep before he got up to check his boys, until he found out that the reason of the feeling was because Master Jason got a nightmare. He would stir the boy down, to the kitchen and gently pushed him to sit down on the island while he took a cup from the cabinet and opened a sachet of instant hot chocolate and pour hot water, careful not to spill any and gently place it in front of the shivering boy.

They would sit down and talked for hours, sometimes even until the dawn greeted them, but most of them were cut short when Master Jason yawned, never got the chance to finish his drink and would mostly left half. That happen too many times that Alfred never question the unease feeling, because if he had it, he just had to walk down to kitchen and make a cup of hot chocolate and wait for Master Jason to come downstairs, or the other way around.

So it wasn't strange for him to wake up one night, unease filled his chest and the old butler moved automatically to the kitchen. He didn't even bother to turn the light on.

He opened the cabinet, took a cup and a sachet of the familiar instant chocolate. He poured the hot water, stir it gently, and it wasn't until he placed in on the island that he froze.

Alfred stared at the empty space in front of him, cold, untouched. Because the boy who used to sit there was currently buried six feet under the ground. The man leaned down and down until his elbows hit the cold island and he buried his head on his hands and let the tears flow freely from his eyes, he'd allow himself to wallow and drown in the heartache of losing a grandson.

He stayed there for ten minutes, before he left the still untouched cup of chocolate—because it wasn't warm anymore, just like the Manor and its residents—and head back to his room.

If Master Dick stumbled to the kitchen that night, woken up by the nightmare of seeing his brother burnt in front of him over and over again, he won't say anything but stared at the cup. He'd crouched down, hoping there's someone—a little brother, perhaps—to hug and cried again, even when he had been crying since the day his father-figure called him on 27th April. And then, with heavy heart, he'd leave the kitchen and the untouched cup of chocolate, feeling even tired than before.

And if Master Bruce came up from the Cave, tired written all over his features after he made sure the Psychotic Clown who caused all this would stuck on the hospital for the next six months, saw the cold cup of chocolate, he won't say anything as he walked closer, and sat. He'd stare down at the cup, before closing his eyes and drank half of its contents. He winced at the sweetness, wasn't used to it and wondered how come his son loved it so much

("Because, Bruce, you soul is as dark as your costume!" A voice chimed in and he still won't say a thing.)

And then he would stand up, leaving the half cup of chocolate because Master Jason never finished his drink. And then maybe, just maybe, this way they can pretend, even for just a split of second, that all of this was only a part of some sick, twisted nightmare.

Master Tim was both a curse and a blessing. He was a curse, because he could easily figured out Batman and Robin identities at such a young age and wished to be a part of it, despite knowing its risks. Alfred heard that Master Bruce was glad that the boy was on their side, if not, no one knew what would he do with that information. And he was a blessing, because he came as a new light in the dark days. When Batman turned aggresive and reckless, the new Robin came to soothe it down. And when Bruce Wayne drowned in the lost of his son, Timothy Drake came to help him move on.

The boy was everything a parent could hope. Smart, well behaved, and his kindness help to soothe the coldness of the Manor, seeping warmth through its hallways who had gotten cold enough for Alfred to let himself show a glimpse of weakness.

And the boy, just like his mentor, with all the detective skills he had, was curious in everything. He asked about Alfred's job before the man came into the Wayne Manor, asked about how Master Bruce was when he was the new Gotham protector without the Boy Wonder by his side, and he asked how Master Dick was when he was still Robin. He never asked about Master Jason, but Alfred knew more than enough that the newest Robin would ask it to Nightwing on patrol.

"I didn't know Dick likes this one."

But you can't keep the cat on the bag all the time, right?

Alfred turned around, on time to see the newest addition of the family holding a package of an unboxed instant hot chocolate, no one on the Manor had the heart to open it despite Alfred buying everytime he could and toss the old one away the next time he went grocery shopping.

"Oh wow," he mused, "it's past the expiration date."

"I'm sorry, Master Tim," Alfred would stop fliping bacons as he said so, offered him a gentle smile, "it seems like habits are hard to forget."

"Oh, sorry," Master Tim stiffened and looked down, ashamed, "this is his favorite, right?"

And, oh, how trully amazing detective he was.

Alfred nodded, and return back to his job making breakfast because even though there's no one to greet him good morning and drink a cup of hot chocolate then help him make the table, he still had three Masters to feed.

("Two birds and a brooding father!" A familiar voice chimed in but Alfred won't say a thing.)

He made a mental note, later, when he went out for grocery shoping, he'd remind himself not to put a new box of instant hot chocolate, it'd be a waste if no one would drink it.

But no one would say a thing, not Master Tim or Master Dick, or even Master Bruce, if they saw the new box of hot chocolate that Alfred bought on his last trip to the grocery store.

Alfred believed in miracle. He believed that hardships will pay off one day, not in the way someone expect it.

He believed the arrival of Master Dick was the pay off of what Master Bruce endured when he was little, loneliness. And with the once dull Manor suddenly painted with Master Dick's colors, Alfred thought he couldn't be any happier.

He believed that the arrival of Master Jason was the pay off of all the people Master Batman saved. And with the Manor once full of Master Jason's melody, he thought that four was a good number.

He believed that the arrival of Master Tim was the pay off of all the good things Master Batman did that God decided to give him another chance of taking care of child under his wing. And oh, how he wished to see number five rather than four.

He believed that that the arrival of Miss Cassandra was the pay off of all the daughters Master Batman had saved and return safely to their fathers that God decided to give Batman a chance with one. And, oh, God, how he wished for Master Jason and Miss Cassandra to meet, he would be a good brother.

But, oh Dear God, there's nothing compare to this.

"Was it really him?" Alfred asked as soon as Master Bruce entered the kitchen. The man looked tired but having served him for decades Alfred could both happiness and sadness behind the facade.

"Yes," Master Bruce whispered when he sat on the island. He gripped his hands and fought back the tears, "it's him."

Alfred didn't asnwer, he stayed silent as he placed a plate of sandwich in front of Master Bruce, "But...?" the man trailed off, knowing there were more of the story.

"It's not him," Master Bruce looked up, experated, "he has so much anger and—and everytime he looks at me, he looks like a human bomb, just waiting to explode. I don't—I don't know what to do, Alfred. I just want him back—I just want my son." Master Bruce closed his eyes with one of his hand, the other curled into a fist.

Alfred wordlessly turned around to open the cabinet. He took the unopened instant chocolate from its regular spot. He brushed his finger on the box, eyes soften as time passed though his heart ached for the grandson he thought he had lost forever.

"Do you think he still loves this one?"

Alfred asked in the dead of midnight. Because even if the world saw Red Hood as a criminal, he still could see the little boy beneath it.

(And there would be the time, when the tension between Master Red Hood and Master Batman had eased up a bit but Jason Todd still refused to come back, that Alfred found him sitting in front of the Batcomputer, Master Nightwing, Master Red Robin, Miss Orphan, and Master Robin behind him as they watched a live footage of Master Red Hood and Master Batman on a rooftop together, thanks to the camera that Miss Oracle had hacked.

"Agent A has something for you."

Master Red Hood scoffed, hand leaving his gun on his holsters as he took off his hood, everyone tensed when they saw the familiar blue eyes.

"And what did I do to get the honor?" He asked, sarcasm filled his tone.

"Nothing," they watched together as Master Batman pulled something out of his cape and a familiar travel mug came into sight. He put it near Master Red Hood. "He just wants to give you this."

Master Red Hood eyed the mug, before he finally inched closer and took it from the ground, he opened the lid and froze once he saw the steam and the familiar smell of hot chocolate hit his nose.

"Really?" He asked, Alfred's heart cleanched when he noticed the man's voice cracked, "Tell him I say thank you."

Master Batman nodded and with one swept movement, he turned around and disappeared into the night.

Master Red Hood stayed frozen, and then slowly, he took a sip of the familar drink.

Vaguely, the so-called Batfamily saw Master Red Hood closed his eyes, enjoying the familiar taste.

And vaguely, the so-called Batfamily smiled when they saw the tears rolling down Master Jason's face.)

Among them, they knew without doubt that Alfred was the best at hiding his emotions, much better than Master Bruce. The old butler always remembered to keep his emotions in check, even on hard times when everyone crumbled one by one because in this dysfunctional family, someone has to be strong all the time. And Alfred chose that spot in a blink of an eye.

But today, just for today, he didn't bother to keep his emotions in check.

Alfred had been smiling all day. Since the moment he woke up, the butler had a smile on his face, didn't even bothered to wipe it out when one by one the Masters and Miss of Wayne household came downstairs for breakfast.

"You seem happy today Alfred. What's the occasion?" Master Dick asked, though he himself couldn't help but lips forming a familiar curve, the one he reserved for his little brother, the one that disappeared when they had to put his first ever brother six feet under the ground.

"I don't understand what are you talking about, Master Dick." Alfred replied, but everyone knew it was a lie.

"Happy," Miss Cassandra said as she put her half glass of orange juice down, "little brother is coming home."

Master Dick smiled wider, he threw an arm around his sister's shoulder and pulled her closer. "Yes," he said, grinning, "little brother is coming home."

Master Dick let her sister go and then sat beside her. He took a sip of his orange juice before glaring at the three people in front of him, "This is the first time he agrees to come home, so you better behave. This means you too, Bruce."

Master Bruce looked up from his newspaper, looking offended but everyone could see the happiness leaked from his usual stoic facade. "Why me?"

"Cuz," Master Dick pour himself his cereal to his bowl, and then grab the carton of fresh milk, "among us, you have the highest chance of pissing him off."

Master Tim snorted. Miss Cassandra smiled. Master Damian growled. And Master Bruce looked defeated.

"I don't—you know what, finish your breakfast." The billionaire cut the conversation short and then return back to his newspaper.

Alfred smiled at the sight, slowly, he went over to the table and place the plates in front of the Masters and Miss. "Now eat up. We have a long day waiting for us."

Alfred watched as they eat, occasionally scolding some of them when they tend to play with their food.

"Alfie," he looked at Master Dick as he made his way to refill his orange juice, his eyes couldn't leave the way his oldest grandson giving him the softest smile he ever seen, "have you bought the hot chocolate?"

"I have, Master Dick," he refill the orange juice and when Master Dick grinned at him, he smiled again, "you know better than anyone I can't possibly miss that one out."

"Right," Master Dick nodded, "Jay would be so happy."

"Indeed."

Alfred loved the fact that he was the first to wake up, that's it, if the Masters and Miss even bother to sleep the night before.

He loved the way the sun still hiding on its place, peeking slowly to greet the world.

He loved the way he walked through empty hallways in silent, because in this Manor, no matter how big it was, one couldn't possibly spend a day in silent.

He loved the way he entered the empy kitchen, plates and glasses and cups and pans still on its designed place as he went through one by one until he found the right utensils to start making breakfast.

But more than anything, he loved this.

"Morning, Alfred."

Master Jason leaned on the kitchen doorway, dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a red hoodie Master Dick bought him two months ago.

("Why would you give me this?"

"Because you love it! I know you love red hoodie! And also. . ."

"And?"

"You won't fit in your old anyway.")

The boy—no, the teen, he had grown up in the last few years. He's a teenager now, not the same little boy years ago—smiled softly, so soft and warm and Alfred wondered how could the same person ruled the Gotham Underground Empire.

He uttered the same word, from every day and every morning years ago, and Alfred once again wondered how much he had missed his life.

"Good morning, Master Jason."

Alfred replied from his place, flipping pancakes on the pan as he smiled and then went to grab a cup from the counter and poured hot water. The familiar smell of chocolate filled the room.

He also uttered the same reply, from every day and every morning years ago, and the man would wonder if they could keep this longer than before.

Master Jason stepped closer, with a soft chuckle, he sat on the island as Alfred placed a cup of hot chocolate in front of him. "I thought you forgot about this." But his hand moved to the cup, bringing it to his lips and the closed his eyes slowly when the familiar taste hit his tongue. "It has too many sugar and. . . it's been so long after all."

"Nonsense," Alfred commented, "I couldn't possibly forget about it. No one could, Master Jason."

Master Jason placed the cup back into its saucers, and when the man leaned a bit, Alfred continued his story.

"Even when you were. . . gone, I couldn't help but place the same box on the trolley, despite knowing no one on Manor would drink it. Sometimes on late nights when I couldn't sleep I head downstairs and make a cup of chocolate, only to froze when I realized you weren't there. In the morning, I found out that Master Bruce had drink half of it," Alfred placed the pancake on a plate, before pouring another set of dough, "your father may look strong, but once in a while, he liked to pretend everything was okay."

The light on Master Jason's eyes flickered, "I'm sorry," he said, "you don't deserve that, none of you deserve it. I shouldn't have bought what Talia said easily, I shouldn't have went to Israel by myself. I should have understand why Bruce can't kill that monster, because—" his breath hitched, and Alfred almost dropped the spatula he'd been holding, "I realized that I don't want my dad to be a killer, Alf."

Alfred flipped the pancake, slowly he put away the spatula and let go of the handle of the pan before making his way and stood beside Master Jason. Wordlessy, he pulled the teen closer. "Nonsense," he said, "you shouldn't apologize, it is not your fault. It's all going to be better from now on."

Master Jason tensed, but then slowly he relaxed as he nodded his head. When Alfred pulled away, his heart warmed when he saw the familiar grin.

"Thanks, Alfie."

"Your welcome, Master Jason."

Alfred made his way back to the stove. He put the now ready pancake on another plate before he poured another set of dough. He glanced at the half cup of instant hot chocolate. "So, are you going to sit there watching your half cup of chocolate or are you going to help me out?"

Master Jason laughed, loud and clear and free and Alfred smiled as the melody that was once lost filled the Manor once again.

"What do you want me to do, Chef?"

"You know what to do, my boy."

Master Jason grinned, he gave him a short nod before he rose up from his place and went to grab the plates and glasses and then arrange it on the table. He didn't forget to pour two cups of coffee, one for his father and one for his little brother and a cereal box and a carton of fresh milk for his older brother. The rest of his siblings were statisfied enough with orange juice and whatever Alfred made for them.

He was in time for Alfred to finish the last batch of pancakes, also in time for his family to filled the kitchen.

Master Bruce was the first to enter, he smiled at the sight and went to ruffle Master Jason said. The teen scowled, but made no move to swat the hand away.

Miss Cassandra was the next to show up. She grinned and then launched herself to her brother and whispered 'You're here' and Master Jason couldn't fight the smile on his face.

Master Tim and Master Damian showed up at the same time. Both took one look at the table before looking at Master Jason. Master Tim smiled as he said a low good work while Master Damian looked he was making a mental review of Master Jason's ability to set the table.

Master Dick was the last to enter.

The oldest of the Wayne children entered the kitchen with so much energy, with so much brightness as he said a loud good morning before rushing over to Master Jason.

The oldest wrapped his arms around Master Jason, hugging him so tight everyone thought it'd be impossible for Master Jason to escape. Master Dick hug him like no tomorrow, because unlike those years before filled with sadness and grief, his Little Wing was there, his baby brother was there, breathing and alive and wrapped securely around his arms and he would hug him even if he was 15, or 16, or 17, or even 18.

And Alfred would smiled at the thought. Because no matter how often Master Dick want to hug his Little Wing, Master Jason will be there to receive it.