"Where is Master Richard, sir? I haven't seen him since breakfast."
Bruce looked up from sorting through his paperwork on the desk in his study to see his… butler… father figure… standing in the door.
"I gave him permission to use the gym in the cave."
"… You trust him not to overexert himself…?" said Alfred, with a raised eyebrow that spoke clearer than words what he thought about Bruce's gullibility.
Bruce had just wanted some peace and quiet… Even Dick would know not to overdo it too much, surely… He usually listened to Leslie, at least…
"I'll look in on him before I leave for the office," he promised.
Businessman Bruce Wayne had a couple of meeting in the afternoon, and stacks of un-read papers on his desk in the office at Wayne Enterprises. And truth be told, he was looking forward to escaping the Manor for a while – which was a completely new and unfamiliar feeling. Most of his life, he had seen the Manor and the cave under it as the epicentre of his mission. Office work or social functions were a necessity and something to get over and done with as soon as possible so that he could return to the Manor, the cave and the Batsuit.
But in this time he occasionally felt uncomfortable in the presence of Alfred. It was evident that both Alfred and Dick at times thought that he behaved oddly, but where Dick had tried to confront Bruce, Alfred was still – observing.
Dick was still a child who looked up to his guardian, and he didn't know Bruce as well as his adult counterpart did. Bruce would be able to deflect his suspicions, somehow. But Alfred – Alfred knew him as no-one else. The older man had made a few comments about his charge's new habits, but so far, he hadn't pushed.
What would he say, when Alfred finally confronted him? Would he be able to lie his father figure straight in the face? Did he have a chance to fool Alfred?
Did he even want to…?
A telephone signal interrupted his musings. He turned to look at the phone but made no move to answer – Alfred had trained that reflex out of him, a long time ago.
The butler calmly walked into the room, picked up the phone and answered, in his customary correct manner. After a few seconds, he asked the caller to wait and turned to Bruce with slightly raised eyebrows. Bruce nodded after a slight hesitation.
"Master Wayne is on his way," Alfred said into the phone; then he covered the mouthpiece and said in a low voice:
"It is Mr Hall, of the Gotham Gazette, sir."
John Hall, editor of the Gotham Gazette. At this time, Bruce Wayne was actually on the board of directors of the newspaper; a board that had a meeting later this day. He had seen the documents during his day at the office, but he never got to them before he was called away by Leslie.
"Bruce Wayne speaking."
"Mr Wayne! Thank you for talking to me! I… I need your help to save the Gazette…"
It did ring a bell. He had helped save the newspaper – he had even put in some hours as Bruce Wayne, playboy journalist – and there had been a criminal case involved.
"… Please go on, Hall."
He listened while John Hall explained that he had reason to believe that the directors were going to vote to discontinue the newspaper since it was losing money, but that the editor was on the verge of finishing a crime-exposé that he was confident would boost the circulation and save the paper.
"I'll see what I can do, Hall. I want to save the Gazette, too," he said when the editor had finished speaking.
He ended the call and put down the receiver. The board meeting was set to be in the afternoon – only a few hours away. He would buy the newspaper some more time there. And after that, he knew exactly whom to call for help.
"Clark Kent speaking."
"Clark! It's Bruce."
There was a moment's silence on the other end of the telephone line; fair enough, Bruce seldom called Clark Kent's phone number. The Man of Steel must be wondering what was going on.
"Oh – hi Bruce. What's on your mind?"
"I could use some help."
"… From Clark Kent…?"
"Mhm... Yes."
"Sure, Bruce… Do you want me to come over?"
"Please do. I'll be waiting. Downstairs."
"… O-kay. See you soon."
Bruce put down the handset and sat back in the office chair in the part of the Batcave that was furnished almost like an ordinary study, with a corner of bookcases filled with reference literature, computers on the desk and writing material readily available. In his own – old – time, most of the relevant reference literature had been digitalised, but here, books were still indispensable. When he heard the sound of light steps, he turned to see his ward approaching, dressed in workout clothes.
"Dick – you haven't been in the gym down here all day, have you? You know you have to take it easy in the beginning."
"Of course, Bruce," the boy answered, giving him his best, wide-eyed innocent look. "Is Clark coming over? What are you working on?"
Before Batman could reply, there was a rush of air, and Superman landed beside them.
"Uncle Clark!"
"Dick. I'm happy to see you're up and about," Superman answered with a fond smile.
"I'm just fine! I was just asking Batman what the case is," Dick said, and turned to look at his guardian, who merely grunted.
"What can I do?" the boy continued, unfazed.
"Nothing. Robin is not cleared for work."
"But…"
"No buts. You know where we stand, Dick. Why don't you go up and make some sketches of your new suit? The sooner we agree on a design, the sooner it will be ready."
"Hmh."
"Up you go," Bruce said, in what he hoped was an encouraging manner.
The boy pressed his lips together, and a looked at his guardian with a slight furrow between the eyebrows, but after a few seconds he turned towards Superman and arranged his features into an easy grin. With a cheerful, "Bye, Uncle Clark", he turned towards the staircase.
"I'll see you at dinner, Dick," Bruce called after him, trying to end on a positive note.
The only reply he got was a noncommittal grunt.
Superman looked after Dick with a small frown.
"He's not a teenager yet, is he? When did he start to grunt instead of talking?"
"Hmh."
"... Sorry, dumb question... What I meant was, when did you pick up the habit so that Dick could take after you, Bruce? You didn't use to grunt as much."
Bruce was at a loss about how to answer – fortunately, he had something to talk about to take the Kryptonian's mind off his speaking habits.
"I'm in need of a good journalist or two, Clark. I was hoping you could help me out."
".. Do tell."
"The board of directors is threatening to discontinue the Gotham Gazette."
"What… But that would leave Gotham without a serious newspaper!"
"Most of the members are interested in profit, Clark. Not journalism."
"But think of…"
"We have 30 days," Batman cut him off. "The editor, John Hall, claims he is on the verge of exposing a big crime, and he's confident that the story will turn the numbers into black. I've promised to help. I want to save the newspaper, but of course, I'm also interested in helping to break up whatever crime he's after."
"Crime sells newspapers in Gotham, I take it…?"
"Mhm. According to Hall, the last time the Gazette sold well was over a month ago, when they ran Larry Spade's story about an insurance racket. Spade was dying by then – Robin and I helped to wrap it up."
"… Bruce. You know I want to help. But I'd like to talk to you about… Well, I don't know what, precisely, but something has been bothering you these last few weeks."
Batman silently cursed to himself. Upstairs, he had Alfred observing him as if he were a strange specimen. And downstairs, he had to call in help from one of the few persons who had the nerve to try to talk about personal things with Batman.
"Nothing is bothering me, Clark. Now, about the Gazette…"
"I'm not blind, you know. There have been several small things that have been off about you, lately. I didn't think much of it the last time we worked together because I thought you were merely frustrated by being forced to sit still. But after the League meeting, I started to think about it… One incident, or two, I would say it was a sudden mood. But when it adds up…"
"I don't know what you're talking about…"
Superman started to count on his fingers.
"Your odd behaviour when Robin and I took on the Purple Mask gang. The Joker needed medical attention, after your last encounter. So did more than one of the bank robbers the other week, when Robin was hurt. You speak less and grunt more, and it's obvious that something is bothering Dick; probably your behaviour. And what was that equipment you installed and removed in the League headquarter, the last time you put in an appearance?"
"…"
"I know you removed it, and you know I trust you, Bruce. But I was hoping you would bring it up voluntarily."
There was nothing to it – he had to explain that one. And at least he could do so truthfully; he had even thought about talking to Clark about it, after all.
"… I tested a new audio and video transmitter. I'm worried that if the headquarter is compromised, we will be cut out from the system. I would like to install something that I can access from the Batcave."
"And you didn't bring this up with us, because…?"
"I wanted to build something that would work satisfactorily before I talked to you."
The lie slipped easily over his lips; but judging by the way Superman lifted his eyebrows, the man was not entirely convinced.
"You didn't attend the last League meeting, either. You've only been to one meeting the last month. Are you avoiding us?"
"… I've been busy. My first priority is Gotham. You know this," Batman replied, permitting a touch of growl into his voice.
"I know you've been busy. You've solved crimes like you're setting a new personal record. But there hasn't been any major threats."
"And how would you know…"
Superman sighed.
"I'm a journalist, Bruce. I read and listen to the news from Gotham. I checked the Police bulletins. Not to mention I make a habit of keeping an eye on the Internet forum "The Batman Dailies"; you have some fans who write daily essays on what you're up to. Or at least what they think you're up to. This Spring, they were convinced that you were training three more Robins, so I don't normally take their information at face value. But I think there would have been more of a buzz if something big was going on."
"… There really isn't anything I can tell you, Clark. I'm busy with keeping Gotham safe, same as always."
Superman crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Batman, silent and thinking. And probably checking for physiological signs that he was lying, Bruce thought wryly; it was a good thing that he had a longer experience with keeping his thoughts and reactions to himself than Superman could ever guess.
Eventually, Superman capitulated.
"All right. I guess I will get no further this time, but I am going to come back to this later, Bruce. I'd appreciate if you prepared an honest answer until then. Now, what can I do about the Gazette?"
"The Gazette could use the help of a few good journalists. Can you talk Perry White into letting you work here again, for a while? If you can get him to send someone else along, even better."
"We-ell. I suppose I know how to get Perry fired up…"
Their conversation came to a stop when Alfred turned up on Clark's elbow with a large silver tray, loaded with a teapot, cups and a selection of dainty pastries and sandwiches.
"Good afternoon, sirs. I thought you might want to continue your conversation over a cup of tea."
Bruce leaned over towards the tray and sniffed the air.
"Earl Grey, Alfred?"
"Of course, sir. Your taste when it comes to tea hasn't changed since you were a lad, after all," Alfred replied, in a carefully neutral voice that suggested that he didn't altogether approve.
Clark accepted his teacup with a happy smile.
"Thank you, Alfred! You make the best tea. I don't even dare tell you how I prepare tea, in my flat…"
"I'm sure you can't measure up to Master Bruce, sir. I know for a fact that he once used the hot water tap when I was out of the kitchen for a short while."
"What? No! Bruce…"
"Hnh. Hot water is hot water…."
"I promise, Alfred, I boil my water before I pour it over the teabag…"
"I'm pleased to hear that, sir. Now, is there anything else you require, Master Bruce? Otherwise, I shall go upstairs and take care of the young Master."
"Thank you, Alfred. I'll see both of you for dinner," Bruce said after the retreating butler before he turned back to Superman who was happily munching on a sandwich.
"As I was saying… The Gazette can use any help you can get out of White. I intend to volunteer myself, too."
Luckily, Superman had just swallowed the last bite of his sandwich; with the face he was making, he might have choked on it otherwise.
"… You, Bruce?"
"Yes. I. Bruce."
"Ehm…"
"Come on, you can say it… Who would want a playboy reporter?"
"Since you put it that way…"
"I'll have you know that I studied some journalism back in college. And I want to get a foot in, to find out more about that criminal case."
Superman shrugged.
"Well, I suppose Hall won't refuse you. I'll get back to Metropolis and try to con Perry into letting me and Lois work in Gotham for a few weeks. If everything works out, I'll see you at the Gazette tomorrow.
Inspired by "The Super-Newspaper of Gotham City." By Edmond Hamilton, art Dick Sprang and Charles Paris. In World's Finest Comics # 80.
In Legends of the Dark Knight # 6, you can see that part of the Batcave is furnished with bookcases and desks, like a miniature library or study.
Earl Grey is the preferred tea in Wayne Manor, I've checked! (I suspect this has more to do with what American comic book writers know about tea than anything else… But I could just be prejudiced, of course…)
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