Chapter Two
Barbara Gordon, known throughout the cyber-world as the Oracle, tightened the sheets on the bed and tucked them under the mattress. She pulled the comforter up and smoothed it down on one side before rolling her wheelchair to the other side and repeating the process. Then she picked up two pillows, fluffed them and set them at the head of the bed.
"I could do that for you, Miss Barbara, if you'd like."
Barbara looked at the man standing in the doorway. Dressed in a black coat and tie, Alfred Pennyworth looked every bit the butler he was. She'd told him more than once over the last few days to relax, that he was simply a transplant from Wayne Manor staying with her until his employer, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, returned from his mysterious mission. He was Bruce's butler, not hers, and he should be able to enjoy himself more.
"Nonsense," Alfred would tell her whenever she brought it up. "I was never Master Bruce's butler any more than you're a web-designer. We all have our parts to play in this mixed-up drama and I'm perfectly happy with my particular role. Whether I play it here or at the manor makes no difference."
She finally gave up trying to convince him otherwise, but she still insisted on doing as much for herself as she could get away with.
"Thanks, Alfred, but I think I've got it covered here. I need to do what I can to get everything ready for her arrival so I don't have to actually think about her arrival."
"Understood, Miss. I'll be upstairs if you need anything." He turned to leave, but Barbara stopped him.
"Should I be doing this," she asked. "I have no idea who this girl is or what she's like. Absolutely none. I just find out I was named her guardian," she pointed a finger at him, "and I know that was Bruce's doing and not Selina's. I don't know why he's pushing this on me, but if he was here I'd have a thing or two to say to him."
"I dare say you probably would," Alfred said. "Perhaps Master Bruce simply thought it was best for the girl to be with someone who would understand something of what she was going through and could help her develop her powers in such-"
"You mean teach her how to fight the good fight?" Barbara interrupted him. "I don't need a sidekick, Alfred, and neither does Dinah. Training a bunch of kids to go hopping along the rooftops was his shtick. He's the one who got off on it. I'm not trying to fill that particular void and I resent the insinuation that I should."
"At 16, I'd hardly call Miss Helena a kid," Alfred said and laughed as only one with a clipped British accent could. The look from Barbara didn't stop the laugh, but he did suppress it more. He sat on the bed beside her and in a rare display of affection, took her hand in his. "Miss Barbara, you and I both know you were very different from any of the others Master Bruce trained. Not only were you the only young lady he ever took under his wing, you had the singular distinction of being the only one who came there with an open heart.
"Like master Bruce himself, all the other who fought along side him started with the weight of vengeance on their shoulders. Master Dick eventually overcame that obsession, but you started out with one goal in mind: helping people.
"Miss Helena is going to need all the help she can get, whether she knows it or not. She doesn't need the type of help Oracle can provide but the type of help from someone who has seen and experienced tragedy and come out the better for it. We all know teenagers are not the most balanced creatures to begin with. That, on top of having to deal with her Meta-Human talents and having her only know relative killed in such a manner, will most likely create needs that most people will not understand, let alone help her with.
"But you can. And helping people is not only what you do, it's what you're best at."
Barbara smiled and met the eyes of the older man. "Thank you," she said, then added, "Smooth talker." It was times like this that made her realize that Alfred was more than a simple butler and keeper of secrets. He was the glue that held them all together: her, Bruce, Dick. All of them. He was their voice of sanity in the most insane of worlds.
Barbara wheeled herself into the hallway and pressed the hidden pressure switch on the wall. A panel slid open to reveal an elevator. She and Alfred got in and she hit the switch that would take them up two floors, past the custom gymnasium and workout space, to the clock tower loft where she had housed the communication center she used as Oracle.
"Does it ever bother you that you're right all the time?" Barbara asked the butler.
"We all have our cross to bear, Miss Barbara," Alfred said, smiling.
The elevator door slid shut.