Catch and Release

Chapter Seven

A/N I am so sorry it took so long. A whole hell of a lot has been going on, and none of it good. But please enjoy anyway!

Thanks for the reviews!

Jonathan quickly ducked to the bedroom he shared with Bruce upon returning home. Alfred had appeared finished, but one never knew when the man would start back up. Jonathan did not want to risk missing over any fine details, not when his mind was already filled with Alfred's words. Alfred could wait until Jonathan finished mulling over this.

He cocked his head curiously. The blankets were still thrown back, just as they had left them that morning. That was no surprise- Alfred had been out of the manor all day. What was a surprise was what appeared to be books laying beneath the bed.

Jonathan knelt by the bed and reached under. Bruce never tucked anything under the bed. Alfred always just pulled it back out. So this had to be new.

The psychiatrist gripped and pulled out the first book. His mouth dried as he looked over the very familiar cover. He opened it slowly, just to prove himself right. His gaze met his own tidy scrawl.

I did wonder... Jonathan looked over the toxin recipes in interest. I always thought he disposed of them.

Jonathan peered under the bed, counting silently. They're all here. But I know they weren't always.. where were they? Why are they here now?

Jonathan sat up straight and reached into his pocket. His fingers found the phone hiding there. He was still considerably unused to carrying the thing- he had never felt the need to. But Bruce had asked- or demanded- so persistently that Jonathan gave in.

He was thankful for it now.

He pulled it out and began dialing the number he knew went straight to Bruce. He stopped halfway, stared again at his books.

No. I'll ask in person.

Jonathan pocketed the device again. He pulled out every last book, stacking them neatly on the carpet.

When he heard the first of distant footsteps, he hurriedly pushed them under the bed. He pushed the last one under before quickly standing and making his way into the bathroom. He closed the door and leaned against the wood. Jonathan listened as the footsteps- Alfred- entered the room.

The psychiatrist looked to the side, straight into the mirror.

Tired.

That was the first word to come to mind. After that, pale. Jonathan looked away from the mirror. He listened to the man in the bedroom, listened to the soft rustling as sheets pulled over each other. Moments passed, then footsteps walked out of the room. Jonathan waited only a second more before pushing open the door and stepping into the room.

The bed was back to its pristine state. Jonathan peeked under the bed- the books were untouched. He walked slowly into the hallway. He stopped a moment and listened. He could hear Alfred down the hallway to the right. He went left.

Jonathan stepped lightly through the hallways. He rarely felt like a stranger anymore in Wayne Manor, but sometimes he managed to still be surprised by its roaming halls. Or by the underside of his own bed.

He looked forward to his new position in the library tomorrow, but there was so much to be done before then.

I hope Bruce is home soon.

Even after months of living with the largest private library he had ever had pleasure in enjoying, the rows and rows of books still amazed him. The library was still his own personal haven. Alfred rarely entered. Bruce only walked in when looking for Jonathan.

He almost felt that it was his and his alone.

And he loved it.

As he walked through the rows of tomes, he tried to figure out what he would say to Bruce. Maybe he would simply lay one of the notebooks on the bed, wait for Bruce to find it on his own, wait for the billionaire to explain away...

Jonathan rather liked the last idea.

He could hardly wait for Bruce to arrive home.