My first The Batman story. It's a one shot.
Alfred had been up since dawn, a mere five hours after he had gone to sleep. The Batman had been busy the night before, along with his partners Robin and Batgirl, and Alfred, as always, had waited up to welcome them home. The old butler, humming as he went along his way, didn't seem to care for the little amount of sleep he had received.
"Good morning, Master Bru-" Alfred stopped mid-word upon entering Bruce's room. The bed was empty, not even used, and if there was anything Alfred Pennyworth had learned in his years of servic as the Wayne's butler, it was that Bruce Wayne never made his bed. That could only mean one thing.
With a sigh, he made his way to the clock in the hall, passing a slowly awakening Dick Grayson as he went.
"I will be up to prepare breakfast, shortly, Master Dick."
He only received a grunt in reply.
The clock slid open, and Alfred went quickly down the stairs, already hearing the grunts of his young master from the training area of the cave.
He stopped short of the area to watch Bruce – still dressed as the Batman – spar with his robotic opponents. The computer had been programmed to the highest level of difficulty, and, judging from the noticeable bruises, Alfred guessed that it had been set that way all night.
Thump! Batman hit the ground hard. Fatigued, he didn't even try to get up for a few seconds, and when he did, it was with groaning, and slow and pained movements.
"Master Bruce, if you're done here, might I suggest you come upstairs for a bit of breakfast?"
The Batman whirled, barely dodging a blow, catching sight of his butler for the first time. Leaping toward the computer, he pressed a button to turn the program off. Sliding back his cowl, Bruce's turned his tired face toward his ever faithful butler.
"Breakfast?" He asked, surprised.
"Yes, sir, breakfast. Am I to assume that you have been at this all night?"
"Um," Bruce looked slightly embarrased.
Alfred cocked an eyebrow. "I see. May I ask why, Master Bruce?"
Bruce ran a hand over his haggard face, leaning against the computer. He glanced between the robots and Alfred. "I need to get better."
Alfred's other eyebrow went up. "Better? Master Bruce, I do believe that you hardly have any room to improve."
Bruce glanced at him sharply. "I have plenty room to improve."
"And what makes you say that?" Alfred seemed unperturbed.
"Because it's true." It was said along with a glare, which was quickly followed by an ill-concealed yawn.
Silence permeated the cave as Alfred thought it over. He had noticed that Bruce had been in training more often than not, definitely more often than before. But before what? Before Robin. Even before Batgirl, Alfred realized.
The two sidekicks were trained incredibly hard themselves, but Bruce had always pushed himself further than he did them.
"Perhaps, Master Bruce, it has something to do with Miss Gordon, and Master Dick joining you?"
Bruce's shoulders slumped. "Yeah."
"Why?"
A bat flew somewhere above them, its wings creating a rustling noise.
"Because," Bruce finally began with a sigh, "I can't risk losing them."
The answer surprised Alfred. "I beg your pardon?"
"Alfred," Bruce looked at him. "What if, one day, we're out there, and something happens. What if I can't get there fast enough? Or what if I'm injured, and they become overwhelmed?"
"Master Bruce, I believe that you've trained them well enough to handle them in such a situation."
"No, Alfred. If I can't handle it, then they can't. Alfred, they're just kids. Barbara...Alfred, she's risking her life without her father even knowing. She's not even out of highschool yet. What if something happens to her, and then I have to explain things."
Alfred was silent. He knew there was more to come.
"And Dick," Bruce glanced toward the stairwell. "He thinks of this as a game, still. And he's already lost his parents, what happens to him if I don't come back one night?"
"He will be with you, Master Bruce."
"Yeah, and he'll get hurt, too. Alfred, if I'm not good enough..." he trailed off, frustrated that he couldn't completely communicate what he was thinking.
"Master Bruce."
He looked at Alfred.
"You're more likely to kill yourself with this ridiculous training schedule, then get yourself killed by some hooligan in an alley way. Not to mention what all this fretting is doing to you. I can't say that I have words of comfort for this situation, as those are valid concerns. However, you can't ever trust yourself for their constant protection. And worrying over them every moment simply won't help." Alfred paused. "Come, Master Bruce, what words can't help, breakfast can."
Bruce smiled.
Wow, how's that for a super lame ending? Eh, maybe one day I'll come in and make it better, but, right now, I don't know if I can. Anywho, this is the part in which you review the story, and tell me what you thought. Critiques are welcome! -Jimmy C.