"You're lucky this doesn't require surgery, Master Bruce," Alfred said as he finished the cast. Barbara, who had already been fitted into a sling, handed him a pair of crutches. "And you will use these for the full six weeks, Sir."
Bruce accepted the crutches and stood. "Batman can't be off the streets for that long."
The entrance of the Batmobile interrupted Alfred's scalding reply. Wally West, dressed in the Flash's uniform with the cowl down, deposited Dick in the medical bed Bruce had vacated.
"I told you I can walk, Wally," Dick complained.
"You conveniently forgot to mention you were shot. You don't get a say," Wallace retorted, crossing his arms so quickly that they phased through one another.
Alfred snapped his gloves into place. "Where's the bullet wound?"
"It's just a graze, Alfred."
There butler merely raised one eyebrow in response. Given Richard' ability to hold a coherent conversation, the blood loss should not be near fatal levels, but his annoyance with his charge continued to escalate.
Mr. West took a more direct approach. He yanked at the Nightwing uniform in an attempt to remove it. Dick hissed and curled into his side. Alfred would be unable to work with Wallace's constant interference. Normally, Alfred would send overly concerned parties to attend some chore in the manor to occupy their minds and fool them into productivity. Unfortunately, any task he'd give Wallace would be finished within three minutes. He would need to be creative.
"Mr. West," The elderly man said, drawing Wallace's attention to him. "Millie's Tea Ship is located in Ipswich. I need you to go and pick up her peppermint and passion flower blend."
Wallace blinked. "I don't –"
"I neither have the time nor the inclination to inform you about the health benefits of tea. If you want to be useful, you'll do as I ask."
"Right." Mr. West nodded and sped out of the cave.
"You could have just asked him to stop vibrating." Richard choked on a laugh.
Alfred made a skeptical noise in the back of his throat. "Are there any other injuries you are trying to hide besides the bullet wound and the broken ribs?"
"My ribs aren't broken," his charge protested.
Alfred stared at his grandson who was still curled protectively around himself. Richard neglected to reply but slowly straightened his body.
"Now, can you remove the suit on your own or shall I cut it?"
"I got it," Richard replied.
Unsurprised by his choice, Alfred left the man to it. Barbara and Timothy had already loaded his supply table with the medical equipment he would need.
"Master Timothy, if you would get an IV started for Richard. Ms. Gordon, if you would grab a pain reliever for yourself and Master Bruce," Alfred said as he threaded a stitching needle.
Timothy started the IVs and Alfred began his work. The butler was halfway through stitching the first wound when Richard started slurring his words. It took another minute for the young man to realize what had transpired. He unsuccessfully batted at his arm with the IV.
"Alfie, no. I need –"
"What you need, Richard, is to heal," Alfred snapped.
His charge was out before he could muster a reply.
Barbara snorted. "I think you mixed it a little strong, Alfred."
"Well, perhaps next time he'll do as he is told and stay in the cave." The elderly man finished the last of the stitches.
"When someone he loves is in danger? We both know that'll never happen," she replied. Then she gestured over towards the entrance of the cave. "I've got this bird."
"You have my thanks," Alfred said. He removed his blood-soaked gloves and turned around.
His grandson, Jason Peter Todd, stood, shifting his weight and fidgeting with his hands in his pockets. The boy had moved less than five feet away from the Batmobile. Alfred's heart stopped. His grandson. Jason was alive. The joy and disbelief bubbled in the normally stoic man.
"Jason," he said as he approached the boy – man. He was a man now. "I am glad to see you, my boy."
Jason shifted on his feet, eyes darting behind the butler to the medical rom.
"I shot, Dick."
"Yes, well, he deserved it I'm sure."
Jason laughed, and the sound warmed the old man's heart.
"Did he put mud in the coffee pot again?"
Alfred deigned not to reply. He was close enough to touch the boy now but didn't want to spook him. Instead, he opened his arms. "Come here, lad."
Jason shook his head. This close Alfred could see Jason's once blue eyes appeared half green.
"Alfie, I killed people."
Alfred threw his arms around his lost grandson. "So have I," he whispered in the man's ear. Long ago, while he served in MI-5, but stealing the life of another was not something one forgot. "You forgot your way home, Master Jason, but I'm glad you've returned."
If grandfather an grandson cried as they embraced, neither said a word about it.
Alfred pulled away first. "Now, go hug your father. He's too inept to properly ask you himself."
Bruce had positioned himself, so that the man could keep both his sons in view, yet he did nothing. Fat lot of good the man's intellect did, if he couldn't even figure out that now was not the time to observe.
"He doesn't want to touch me, Alfred. He might catch my murder germs."
"Hogwash," the butler replied, pushing Jason towards Bruce. If the lad truly didn't wat to go, the elderly man never would have been able to push him, but the two stubborn men fell into an embrace that would have made Master Richard proud.
Alfred surveyed the cave. Ms. Gordon held Richard's hand in the med bay. Bruce and Jason should be able to have a conversation without blowing up the cave. However, one of his charges was missing, and he had a fairly good idea where Timothy had disappeared to.
He found Timothy attempting to leave the manor.
"Headed home, Master Timothy?"
The boy flinched, clearly not expecting someone to notice his departure. He didn't turn around to face Alfred, gaze directed towards the manor's large exterior door.
"I, I just thought," he mumbled.
"You thought that now that Master Jason has returned to us that we'd have no need of you," Alfred guessed.
Still refusing to turn around, the boy nodded.
Alfred placed one hand on the teenager's shoulder. "My dear lad, come here." He pulled another one of his charges into a hug. He could not remember the last time he given two hugs in one day. If word got out, Richard would pester him for days. Hmm, maybe that was an idea to keep the blasted boy still.
The British man kindly didn't mention the dampening of his shirt as the young man cried. Alfred waited a moment than crouched down to Timothy's eye level. "You are always welcome in this household. Master Bruce, may be a bloody idiot over the next few days, but he cares for you, Timothy."
The teenager nodded slowly in response.
"Now, do you honestly wish to leave the manor and this life behind?"
Timothy replied quickly, "No, but –"
"No buts," Alfred interrupted. He turned the teenager, so that he was facing the stairs instead of the door. "Go wash and head to bed. You'll need your strength in the coming weeks."
"I," the boy started. "Thank you, Alfred."
"I live to serve."
By the time, Alfred returned to the cave, in an unrumpled suit, Master Bruce had managed to muck everything up. They'd be lucky if the yelling didn't wake Richard.
"Can you two stop this?" Barbara asked; she had positioned herself in between the two men.
"He shot Dick," Bruce growled. "The guns are not staying in my cave."
Jason pointed one of his guns at his father. "Don't make me shoot you as well."
"Enough," Alfred snapped as he descended the last steps into the cave. "Bruce, you are an adult. Try acting like it for once. Jason, you and I will be having tea. The guns, like all other equipment, will not be brought into the manor. Is that clear?"
Bruce clicked his jaw shut. His grandson looked down at the ground and nodded.
"Very good. Ms. Gordon, if you would please show Jason where he may store his belongs?"
Slightly amazed, she nodded.
The pair left, and Alfred turned to his original charge.
"It's time for bed, Master Bruce."
The man snorted. "Alfred, Dick's been shot. Jason's alive. I don't have time for sleep."
"You've been awake for nearly 72 hours. You're no use to them half-dead from sleep-deprivation."
Bruce ignored him.
"I was afraid you'd ignore sound advice, which is why I laced your pain killers with a sedative. I'd imagine you have about twenty minutes before you collapse upon which I'll ask Mister West to carry you to your bed, or you could choose to be an adult and go to bed now."
The billionaire genius glared at him. Alfred rose one eyebrow. Bruce's shoulders dropped.
"You'll take care of them?"
Perhaps another night, the faithful servant would have been annoyed, but tonight, he understood. "Don't I always?"
Bruce nodded, sent one more look towards Dick and Jason, and climbed the staircase.
Wallace sped into the room, looking around. "What'd I miss?"
Alfred took the tea before the speedster crushed it. "Nothing much. Masters Timothy and Bruce have retired for the evening." Jason and Barbara emerged from the locker rooms. "Jason and I are going to have some tea. If you and Ms. Gordon insist on staying with Richard this evening, I expect you to take shifts and get some rest."
The female redhead stepped forward before her male counterpart could say something foolish. "Of course, Alfred."
He nodded; Jason followed him up the stairs.
Jason was silent as he accompanied the butler to the kitchen. Sometimes he would stop and stare at a particular place for a few seconds before jolting back into awareness. Alfred didn't press. He allowed Jason to settle himself as he brewed the tea. He set the pot and two cups on the table. The boy finally looked up.
"You remembered my favorite," he said.
"Of course," Alfred replied. There was no reason to mention that Alfred hadn't tasted this specific blend since Jason had been buried.
The two sat in silence. Jason stirred honey into his tea. He continued absentmindedly stirring long after the honey mixed in. Alfred sipped his tea while he waited for the man to speak.
"I shot Dick," he stated, voice heavy with guilt.
"I've half a mind to shoot him myself if it will keep him in that bed."
Jason blinked and looked at Alfred. His normally bright blue eyes appeared cyan. "Why are you so angry with him?"
The elderly man regretted his words. It would not due to stress the healing boy in front of him with his concerns for his brother.
"Pardon me, Master Jason. I misspoke."
Jason's eyes faded towards blue than green; his face scrunched up in the way it had as a child when he was struggling with some challenge.
"He's done something, hasn't he?"
"Many things, I'm afraid, but that is hardly the talk for reunions. Where have you been?"
The teenager's eyes flashed towards green before settling back to a blue-green. "I don't know."
"How long have you been back in Gotham?"
Jason shrugged. "A few months."
"Did it not occur to you that your family would have rejoiced at your return?"
Blue-green eyes flashed to bright green. Jason stood. "No, because he left that bastard alive and replaced me!" The man knocked his tea cup over; eyes fading back. "Shit, Alfred, I'm sorry."
"You are not too old to have your mouth washed out with soap, young man."
Jason laughed. His eyes sparked closer to their natural blue. "Is the mop still in the closet?"
Alfred nodded.
After mopping his spilt tea, Jason collapsed in his chair. "Alfred, I don't know what I'm doing."
The British man reached out and squeezed the boy's hand. "We will figure it out together. That's what families do."
Shaking his head, Jason gave a bittersweet laugh. "I'm pretty sure Bruce wants to throw me in the loony bin."
"He'll have to go through me," Alfred stated. Then he mock-whispered, "You know he's never beaten me in an argument."
"That's because you cheat."
The British man sipped his tea, refusing to reply to the comment.
"Your father loves you, Jason. Even if he's terrible at showing it," he said. "He didn't replace you. He and your brother were complete wrecks after your passing. I recommend looking at the case files during that time. Timothy stepped in to try to curve Bruce's downward spiral. I think you'll enjoy getting to know him." At Jason's skeptical look, he added, "Promise me, you'll at least give him a chance."
The teenager sighed. "Okay."
Alfred nodded. "Very good. Now I think it's well passed time, we head to bed. Would you like to sleep in your old room or a guest room?"
"A guest room," Jason said quickly.
"Very well."
Once he had Jason squared away with a promise to at least try and sleep, Alfred returned to the sitting room attached to his quarters. There was a dark red ornamental reading chair with a matching foot stool. Beside the chair, there was an end table with a bronze lamp with a stain-glass shade. His Bible rested on the table, still opened to the passage he read this morning.
He ignored it and instead rested his knees on the prayer stool. His Book of Common Prayer laid on top of the stool. He flipped through it until he found the prayer that he had prayed far too many times over the years.
Most merciful God, whose wisdom is beyond our understanding: Deal graciously with me in my trouble. Surround me with your love, that I may not be overwhelmed by my present circumstances, but have confidence in your goodness, and strength to meet the days to come; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
~0~
The next morning, Alfred awoke before any of his charges. He planned to head down to the cave to check on Richard, but the doorbell prevented that venture. Hoping it would not be something that would require too much of his attention, he opened the door.
"Mr. Kent, I must say I'm surprised. How can I be of service?"
Clark stepped into the manor. "Alfred, it's good to see you." His eyes shifted across the room, no doubt searching for eavesdroppers. "Bruce put in an emergency call last night regarding Dick. I tried to Zeta over, but he's got the Cave on lock down."
Of course, he does.
"I'm sorry to show up unannounced, Alfred, but I had to know. Is everything alright?"
Alfred saw no reason to put on a front. "No, I'm afraid it is not. Come to the kitchen. I'll put on a pot of coffee and explain."
Clark nodded.
Before the coffee had finished brewing, there was another knock at the door.
"Excuse me, Mr. Kent."
This time an angry redhead pushed passed him. "Where is he?"
"Mr. Harper, I'm aware that Mr. Queen does not require manners in his household, but in Wayne Manor, we follow rules of common curtesy," Alfred retorted.
The man took almost a full minute before backing down. "I'm sorry, Alfred. Will you please tell me where Dick is?"
Alfred raised his eyebrows. "Come to the kitchen. I might as well only explain this once."
~0~
Author's Note: The prayer is taken directly from the Anglican Book of Common Prayer.
Did Alfred send Wally to England to go get Jason's favorite tea? Yes, yes he did.
I love Alfred so much. (Also, I now kind of want to write a crack fic, where members of the Bat family use the power of hugs to convince Dick to stay in bed and heal. lol)
I'm sorry this has taken so long to get to y'all. I spent the last week doing recovery work in Puerto Rico. I intended to get this chapter up before I left. Unfortunately, like Dick, I struggle with depression (they do say to write what you know), I had a bad episode before leaving, and I just couldn't get it done. I hope you will forgive me.
A note on religious/spiritual beliefs:
I'm not sure how many people will find this as interesting as I did, but I wanted to double check that Alfred was indeed Anglican, he is. This then lead to a rabbit hole of looking up a bunch of different religious beliefs of characters. Personally, I think Marvel does a better job of sharing a character's religious beliefs, which I believe adds to the overall characterization. It's something I take into account as I write because spiritual views shape our responses to people. Anywho, I realized that while I did a ton of research on Bruce, I should have also looked up others because the way I've been writing certain characters has been slightly less than accurate. I'm sure many of you don't care, but here are the list of some of the actual cannon beliefs of characters. (If anyone wants to discuss these, drop me a line. I'm pretty interested in these things.)
Bruce Wayne: Lapsed Catholic
Alfred Pennyworth: Anglican
Dick Grayson: Christian - no denominational affiliation known. (I'll be honest. This one surprised me the most. Dick sleeps around a ton for someone who is supposed to be a Christian, but several writers stated that they always saw Dick as a Christian, and attribute it to why he was able to conquer his past in a way Bruce never could. This does make sense to me and fascinates me. In several comics, his room is filled with Christian CDs and his Bible is shown. As far as I could tell regarding Romani culture, it's most common for the Romani people to be either Catholic, Orthodox, or Muslim.)
Jason Todd: Atheist
Tim Drake: Jewish Catholic (Again. This one surprised me. I'm not 100% sure what it means to be Jewish Catholic, but at least one writer stated that they always thought of Tim as Jewish while writing him.)
Barbara Gordon: Not enough information, but possibly Buddhist.
Wally West: Speedforce? - It's not exactly a religion, but several sites refer to it as a spiritual entity. (Do with that what you will.)
I think a religious conversation would be super interesting between all of them, but if I ever do that it will be a different fic.
Here's the background spirituality that I've assumed for the characters in this fic. Some have been addressed explicitly already. Some are implied, and some are just in the background as I write the characters.
Bruce: Lapsed Catholic
Alfred: Anglican
Dick: Universalist (In my ignorance, I assumed this would be the most likely due to his background. I now realize that was a misjudgment, and I shouldn't have done that.)
Jason: Unsure, but more curious about spirituality and religion after his own death and resurrection.
Tim: He's pretty sure he's an atheist, but he hasn't done the work yet to disprove/prove the existence of God. If anything, he may eventually concede to deism.
Barbara: Progressive, liberal Christian
Wally: Former atheist heading towards agnosticism
Artemis: Hasn't considered religion/doesn't understand how this would affect her day to day life.