8 Months Later

I was sitting up and leaning forward as I studied the TV closely. It had been a fantastic evening. Bruce had been forced by Alfred to go a party I'd mentioned in passing, and I'd heard both complaining about the other over the phone at various intervals during the day.

My brother had also visited, and my new controller had arrived when Bruce had been calling to complain about the party's menu, meaning he got cut off to the sound of excited exclamations and the ripping of a box.

By 10pm, I was on the couch in the games room surrounded by half-gone packets of snacks and a huge jug of iced tea, watching Gotham's skyline glitter out of the windows as I played.

I put another slice of cheese on a cracker as the server loaded and glanced at my phone to see if either of the residents of Wayne Manor had rung to insist that I have a word with the other. I was quite content to see no messages and pulled the blanket further over my shoulders at the last second before the game loaded.

That was the last time I was fully aware of my surroundings for quite some time, automatically reaching for the food and jug as time became insignificant.

My phone rang and I blinked, pausing the game and driving my eyes away from the screen to the windows for a moment, seeing Gotham darker than it had been before.

I stopped to check the time, 12:30, on my phone before answering with a hearty smile. 'Alfred! He hated it, I presume?'

'Doctor, I'm sorry to bother you, but the evening ended unpleasantly.' There was a lot of strain in his voice and I could tell something had happened to Bruce.

I glanced at the dark outside, stood up and turned the TV off with a flick of the remote. 'What do you mean?'

'He was dragged away by five men as he left the venue. I've rung the police, of course, but…'

I reached down to turn off the console. Dammit. Batman could have gotten out of there in a flash. But Bruce's happy-go-lucky playboy persona? Not a chance.

Alfred continued. 'I saw a Mr Darley, a man I recognise from Thomas Wayne's days. I assume Master Bruce didn't fight back in order to keep his skills a secret.'

I hummed in agreement, checking the time and picking up the tray of food, walking through the penthouse. 'I'll find him. Where are you? I'll need you in a cave.'

'I'm heading to the bunker now; it's the closest.'

'What's Darley's record?'

'He threatened the lives of the Waynes, and a few days later they were attacked outside Wayne Enterprises.'

I hung up and turned around, knowing I had no time to worry. I returned the food to the kitchen as I hurried past and moved swiftly through the house to the lift, jumped in my Aston Martin and floored it to the docks.

I charged into the shipping container, getting out of the car as the lift brought it down as my phone rang.

'The police have just received a tip off about a car speeding away from near the venue, lost as they turned into Southmarner's Road. A description of a passenger matches Laurence Darley.'

I took a deep breath as I prepared to become Thunder. 'Okay. That sounds like our man,' I said, jumping down before the lift stopped. 'I'll have the suit on in about a minute and a half.' I looked up to see Alfred already at the computers.

I sent him a comforting, definite nod and ran to my suit and worked to put it on as quickly as I could.

It was lighter than it had been a few months ago, and more flexible. It was a lot better to be stuck in than it had been before, and luckily a lot easier to put on. With another nod to Alfred, I opened a Tumbler and slid into the driver's seat, shooting out of the garage and onto the main road.

'Alfred.'

'Reading you, doctor.'

He'd already put the road into the Tumbler's GPS and so I sped through Gotham, concentrating on the other cars littered around the city. The clock read 12:54.

The time made me uncomfortable, but it was nowhere near what it would read if the police were the only ones looking for Bruce.

'Incoming call from an unknown number…' Alfred said thoughtfully. 'This is Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth speaking. … Officer Gordon. … that's correct, sir, yes. About half an hour ago. … … … Certainly. Can you give me a description of your suspect?'

I turned left and kept a little focus on Alfred, using him as background noise to focus on the Tumbler.

'It doesn't match the description of anyone I'm aware of, sir. … … Nor him, I'm afraid. … … Did you say Darley? I recognize that name, sir. A Laurence Darley once threatened Thomas and Martha Wayne.'

I reached the road and my eyes widened as I slowed the Tumbler to a steady cruise. 'Shit! Alfred, this has got to be one of the longest roads in Gotham. Check ownerships of the buildings, double cross them with any known associates of Darley's.' I slowed a little further and looked around carefully.

'No ransom yet, sir, no. … … … I agree. … …' he cleared his throat. 'I was parked in the northern half of the lot, away from the main doors, so I'm afraid I can't provide any descriptions on the people I couldn't recognize.'

My eyes shot open and I slammed the Tumbler into reverse, checking the map onscreen and wheeling it around, sending my foot down again as I headed north.

Another cough. 'By my watch it was 28 past. … … … I will. Thank you, Officer.' A rustling.

I was still in a residential area. I glanced around. 689. The Tumbler went faster.

'Block 28 is owned by Darley's cousin. It's a warehouse.'

'What did Gordon say?'

'He said the police investigated past offences against the Wayne Family, and Darley was one of them. They're on their way to the same address.'

503. 'Tell me the numbers,' I said hurriedly, unable to go fast if I was trying to see the road signs as I pushed the car further.

'432.'

'398.'

The blocks were starting to get larger as I flew past businesses, moving into the industrial area.

'353.'

'312.'

The Tumbler kept accelerating. I finally loosened my foot at 145 miles per hour ((233 kph)).

'264.'

'212.'

'166.'

'117.' There was a masterfully masked tone of concern in Alfred's voice as he worried over the speed at which I was driving. I kept my eyes on the blurring road ahead, not able to think.

'50.'

'35.'

I slammed on the brakes, hurtling forwards as my seatbelt held me back.

The tires screeched and yelled as they forced to a crawl. I yelled a little as the impulse hit me, but in the suit I was fine.

Alfred seemed determinedly silent.

I sighed as my reflexes slowed. 'I'm fine, Alfred,' I said knowingly.

He didn't say anything.

I checked the time. 1:03.

Unsurprised, I reversed the Tumbler in a nearby driveway and climbed out, the world suddenly very muted as everything seemed slow.

I looked around and found number 28, shooting to the roof of 26.

There were no balconies or windows, so I leapt onto the roof to squint through a hazed skylight.

'The police are eight minutes away.'

Now that I was outside, my voice became a hybrid of my own and of Thunder's. 'Good. What's this place used for?'

'It stores stationary and photographic tools.'

'Does "tools" include developing chemicals?' I asked, looking around at the other rooftops, glad I didn't feel the biting cold in the suit.

A moment as Alfred checked.

Impatience was creeping over me, I wanted nothing more than to smash through the skylight.

'Yes. Why the concern?'

'Some are flammable,' I said in a troubled tone. The last thing I needed was a gun going off.

Alfred paused for a moment before taking a breath. 'Well then good hunting, ma'am.'

I laughed, staring at the roof under my feet vacantly.

With a last calm breath, I stood and ran up the roof to the apex and leapt into the air, spreading out my cape to keep me higher and then dropped it when I was above the lowest skylight. I crashed through it and landed on a crate on the top row.

I immediately darted away from the noise and took out some of the lights with a flick of my wrist and shurikens. I landed further in the warehouse and looked around. From the driveway, I was near the middle, in the left of the warehouse.

'GO!'

Apart from the team of three running toward the broken skylight, there was little sign of life. But there was an office at the back that I had to squint through the darkness to see. I looked down as the footsteps ran past me and I studied the paths of the team. They had come from the back.

I leapt across the gaps until I was on the right-hand side and crawled across the crates.

'Well?!' came a shout from ahead, 'what was it?!'

A reply echoed through the harshly surfaced warehouse. 'Something smashed a skylight!'

I heard a faint curse. 'Search the area!'

I decided against going to the scaffolding holding the roof up in favor of increasing my vision. I planned to keep entirely to the dark, so they couldn't tell if it was one or both vigilantes present, and with luck they'd never be able to tell which I was. Just as a precaution.

I leapt silently across crate after crate and stopped at the edge of the row, squinting into the office. I looked down. The person ordering people around was below me nearby.

Easy target.

I leapt high into the air and came crashing down onto his shoulders, knocking him out and hauling him back up to the top of the shelves with me, leaving him there. This was so much easier being a character with supernatural powers in the game I had played this morning. I skulked through the shadows and took care of the rest of them on the warehouse floor before jumping onto the ceiling of the office and putting my head to the ground, listening hard.

'So, tell your butler, or mistress, or best friend, to give us fifty million, and you can walk out of here within the hour.'

No response. I guessed Bruce was playing a barely conscious tactic to buy time.

I heard a punch but no grunt.

Or were they just talking to an unconscious body? If that was the case, I had to get Bruce out of there immediately or Alfred would have my blood.

I tapped the surface below my feet. No one was ever supposed to come up here, so it wasn't very strong. It reminded me of fake wall. I could burst in but then they'd know it was Thunder… and if I missed Bruce then there was a hostage situation just waiting to happen.

'Hey, Matt, check in would you!'

The click of a radio.

Ah.

I vaguely heard the voice also coming from the man I'd left on top of the crates nearby.

Mentally clicking my tongue, I looped back to the man, fished his pockets for his radio and then hurled it at the office window when a shadow moved behind it.

'Whoa! What was…?'

I jumped back to the ceiling of the offices and looked down as two men came out of the office and down the steps to the warehouse floor, finding the radio clattering to the ground.

I stalked in a circle to the edge of the structure and dropped down, knocking them out with my feet and disappearing again.

'Well?!' came the bark.

The only person that could reply was me.

I waited.

With a grumble another man, the owner of the voice, went down the stairs. I looked at him carefully. Not our man. I took him to the crate beside "Matt" and considered the new situation, returning to the office ceiling. Bruce was somewhere below my feet. I'd yet to find Darley, so he was probably also somewhere below me in the office. Along with god knows how many others.

As I was creeping along to get a better angle, I heard a shout from the ground.

'What the-?! SIR! THEY'RE ALL DOWN!'

Instinctively, I pulled back into the dark shadows in the middle of the ceiling.

The clamoring of footsteps, too many to count, followed.

'Where? Shit. Get Wayne! Get him in the car.'

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

'Sweep the entire area! Flush whoever it is out and throw them into the river.'

Too much happened at once for me to keep track of, so I opted for shadowing the men returning to the office.

I leant over carefully to peek into the open door and got a glimpse of Bruce, bloody, beaten and either feigning unconsciousness or really fading in and out, before a gunshot blew through the warehouse. I'd thrown myself backwards, flat onto the ceiling unscathed before I realized I'd moved and stilled, waiting, straining to hear the scuffs coming from the room amongst the chaos. Dammit. Bruce was better at shadows than I was.

'What happened?!'

'Something moved.'

I looked around, trying to see if there was any bullet impact nearby.

'Where?'

'Near the office.'

Shit.

'Don't just stand there, kill them!'

What followed was hard to describe. All my efforts went into remaining unseen as I strained my muscles to push myself up and into a jump back across to the crates.

They saw the movement, but not the direction.

'JUST FIRE INTO THE AIR!'

Two men emerged carrying Bruce between them. The stress in the situation increasing, I wanted to dive down and get him, but with at least five guns aimed high and occasionally firing, it was a risk I couldn't take.

Then a bullet hit the wrong crate and to my dismay my concern about chemicals became validated as fire trickled into life. In the suit I was safe for several minutes from fire, but Bruce was wearing cloth.

No, no, no, shit.

They guarded Bruce all through the warehouse and I had to give up and re-strategize.

I left through the way I'd come in and leapt off the roof to the Tumbler, starting the engine and waiting.

Alfred's voice came through. 'I see the Tumbler started. Do you have him, doctor?'

The care and worry in his voice upset me greatly, and I let my normal voice out. 'No, Alfred, I'm sorry. Not yet.'

'I understand. Please take care.'

Two large hatch-back cars went speeding out of the property, one behind the other. I followed them, back down the street heading south.

'Alfred, where are the police?' I changed gears.

'Estimated time of arrival is two minutes. They're coming from the East.'

'Well,' I said, steering around another car, 'that could be a lot worse.'

The boot of the back car opened and suddenly the windscreen was filled with sparks as bullets rained onto the Tumbler. Confident in my own engineering, I pushed the Tumbler forward without the tiniest of flinches.

'I'm after two cars. Plates 337-8561 and 591-6224.'

'Do you want me to run a check on the registration?'

'Do. It can be given to the police as evidence if anything comes back.'

'Right away.'

I winced as I pulled the Tumbler up beside the back car. 'You won't hear from me for a while,' I warned Alfred in a tone that said he wasn't to worry, but he had good reason to if he did. 'If Bruce isn't in the rear car, send the Tumbler forward to the front.'

I couldn't blindly send the cars flying or Bruce wouldn't walk away. I'd have to stop them some other way. I looked ahead at the road. Anything routine involved a crash.

There were very few people I would take a big risk for. Unfortunately for me, and fortunately for him, Bruce Wayne was included in that small list.

Unhappy but determined I cut the engine and switched it to electric, making the Tumbler enter its stealth mode as it cut its lights. I emitted an EMP pulse to kill the street lights and dropped back.

When the bullets stopped, I switched the Tumbler to auto pilot and took a long breath, deciding not to check the speedo.

The Tumbler pulled up beside once again and I opened the cockpit, immediately stumbling backward against the metal behind me as the wind hit me like a wall. I got used to it and crouched and without pausing for a countdown I leapt from the Tumbler onto the roof of the rear car.

Predictably, it swerved wildly, and I dropped, sending the hooks on my wrist guards into the roof and rolling backward as bullets shot up. I had a second before they saw me and used it to steady myself before racing back to the front of the car, driving a fist through the windscreen, grabbing the steering wheel amidst frightened yells and turning it hard toward the Tumbler.

The would-be disastrous change in direction and resulting crash was prevented as the momentum was absorbed by the Tumbler. As everyone was sent forward, I jumped to the Tumbler, using it to push off and smash the back window with an armoured elbow.

No Bruce. But one man that looked like he was quite rich. I assumed he was Darley. I ducked out of sight and sent multiple batarangs into the wheels of the car as the Tumbler took me forward. There was a mighty crash behind me as the sound of sirens began to fill my ears.

The police would find the crash.

I pulled my cape over my face to blot out any light surface of my face as the Tumbler silently prowled up to the next car.

I could barely see in, but it was enough to tell the driver and passengers were panicking over the loss of the rear car. Now, before they got their nerves back.

I jumped, landed and broke the back window, forcing the back open and then jumping onto the roof.

'WHAT THE?! WHAT IS THAT?!'

I dropped down to the right back door and forced it open after smashing the window.

Bruce was awake, acting a lot less unconscious than he had earlier and staring at me, a little impressed. I knocked out the man between us and Bruce, hands bound, managed to elbow the man on his other side and reached out to me as the car began to swerve. I nearly lost my grip and had to lean further into the car as the passenger screamed and tried to turn his massive machine gun around to point behind him.

I grunted and punched the gun from his hands, sending his arms sprawling as the driver yelled again and swerved violently to the left, trying to send me flying.

Somehow, I stayed on.

He turned back to the right, preparing to swerve again and I finally had a moment to properly look at Bruce, who, despite being covered in blood and bruises and being in a speeding car heading almost certainly for a crash, looked considerably calm.

I crouched my legs, grabbed Bruce with both arms as he held his bound hands tightly against his chest and as the car turned, I jumped back, holding Bruce as firmly as I could and lowering my head, cape opening to slow us as much as I could, before we with the tarmac.

I let out a yell as the first jolt ran through my back and we ricocheted into the air and Bruce, seemingly able to realise I planned to take the full brunt of the impact again to spare him, tilted his weight and forced us into a roll before we hit the ground again.

We yelled from the impact but even then, I was able to shield him enough.

When we'd slowed, I let go of him as he came to a stop on the ground, able to raise his head to see me still being beaten by the road.

Finally I stopped, panting and generally sore, wincing and rolling onto my side. Footsteps ran past me and immediately my focus was back as I saw one of the men from earlier running toward Bruce as blue and red flashing lights began to surround us.

As Bruce staggered to a stand, I shoved myself up and raced after the man, kicking him down and knocking him out with a very enthusiastic blow.

The sirens grew louder and began to pierce into the dark patch of road with the disabled street lights.

Bruce coughed and collapsed onto me, his weight making me put my feet wider to support it.

Holding an arm around his back, I pulled his arm over my shoulders and stooped a little to take nearly all his weight before the police reached us.

I put my other hand on his shoulder and studied him carefully. He obediently held my gaze until he couldn't any longer and rested his head like a rag doll on my shoulder with a thick groan.

I stubbornly ignored the feeling of my adrenaline fading as it forced me to become at least vaguely aware of multiple injuries.

The lights reached us, and I stood up straight and hulking once again.

Bruce kept his head on my shoulder but hung it and rag-dolled further before the lights found us.

On instinct, I stepped back further into the dark, near-dragging Bruce with me until Gordan appeared and ordered the police to go no further, leaving us still at least half in the dark.

He walked toward us.

'How is he?' he asked.

'Beaten,' I replied, knowing a hospital visit could reveal some older scars on the body of Batman, 'but otherwise unscathed, mostly in shock. Get him home before anything else.'

Gordon nodded and motioned to me.

I stooped and lifted Bruce's arm off me as between us we transferred his weight to Gordon.

'I need to talk to you about Crane,' Gordon said, 'where's Batman?'

'In the car,' I said, turning my head to imply the Tumbler, which could now be heard very faintly driving around in the dark. 'We'll drop by in the week.'

'Drop is certainly the word,' Gordon muttered, before nodding at me thankfully and beginning to walk Bruce away, who didn't bother to remove his head or arm until they just fell away.

Suddenly with all the man's weight Gordon stumbled a little, not prepared for it as I was holding him with ease.

Awkwardly, he looked at me in surprise and smiled. 'Thank you.'

I nodded and stalked off into the night. The Tumbler rolled up beside me and I clambered in as all my adrenaline faded, holding my arms and hissing and yelling.

'Doctor?'

I pulled my cowl off. 'The police have him, Alfred, he'll be home soon.'

I heard a very small sigh of relief. Then a sharp silence. 'And yourself, ma'am? You sound hurt,'

Almost as a reaction to Alfred's assessment, my eyes went heavy. 'I probably am,' I replied wearily, voice very tense. 'See to Bruce, I'll take care of it.'

'.. .. Very well, ma'am. Thank you.'

I nodded and set the Tumbler to return to the bunker and laid down across the seats, falling asleep as the car crept through Gotham, still on electric and no lights, vaguely aware of a strange feeling in my side.

'Good morning, sir.'

'Alfred. Morning.' Bruce winced against the light.

'The police are to arrive in half an hour to take your statement. I provided them with enough evidence, so it shouldn't be a very long interview.' The butler was standing at the window, looking out, an action Bruce found quite odd.

'Are you alright, Alfred?'

'I am, sir, yes.' Alfred turned to face him. 'Just a little concerned for Dr Pendragon.'

Bruce gazed at him warily, sharply. 'Why?'

'She appears to have not emerged unscathed from yesterday evening. I assume she's sleeping so I haven't rung her yet.'

Bruce nodded, unsettled. 'Let's give it until after the interview.'

'Very well, sir,' Alfred replied, satisfied. 'I'll prepare a little breakfast while you get dressed.'

Bruce stretched, wincing as the police drove away. Alfred walked into the room.

Bruce glanced lazily at him. 'Nothing?'

'No, sir. Not a word.'

Bruce lowered his still stretching arms and nodded. 'Okay. Let's go check on her.'

'I've got the car ready,' Alfred replied and vanished through the manor.

Bruce blinked at the door the butler had disappeared through, surprised. With a sigh he stood up and craned his neck from side to side uncomfortably and began to retrieve a jacket.

He'd barely made it back down the stairs when he heard the car pull up outside the front doors. Again he frowned, considering Alfred's behaviour.

The butler reappeared and closed the doors the minute Bruce had stepped over the threshold and had the engine running by the time Bruce had his seatbelt on.

Bruce let him drive out of the manor grounds before he spoke.

'Alfred?' he said expectantly.

Alfred glanced into the mirror.

Bruce held the silence.

'I didn't want to worry you before the police arrived, sir. To my ever-concerned ears Dr Pendragon sounded quite hurt upon entering the Tumbler after handing you to the police.'

Bruce squinted at Gotham going past, trying to think back. We'd barely seen each other for no more than a minute before Thunder disappeared into the night and the drive back to Wayne Manor began.

'Well she did jump out of a car,' Bruce said simply, not to Alfred's peace of mind, 'but she carried me easily enough; I didn't see anything.' Pause. 'Not that that means a lot when Evelyn's concerned. We've seen her pass out in the cave without warning once or twice.'

'That's what worries me, sir,' said Alfred.

Bruce inhaled, rolling his shoulder awkwardly. 'She didn't say a word to me; you've got the better knowledge than I do.'

Alfred turned into the parking lot. 'Let's find out, sir.'

They went to the penthouse lift and stopped.

'Did you bring the key?' Bruce asked.

Alfred procured a card from his pocket.

Bruce grinned and stepped back to let Alfred reach for the scanner. The lift opened immediately, and Bruce frowned.

'Shouldn't it be at the top, sir, if she's home?'

'That's what I was thinking,' said Bruce and stepped in.

They stood in silence as the lift soared upward until the doors glided open.

The house was pristine as always and still set up for night time. After an unsettling moment to let the atmosphere sink in, Bruce wordlessly made for the kitchen and Alfred the master bedroom.

They returned to stand in front of the lift a moment later.

'She was having a gaming evening,' Bruce began, 'but all the snacks are just lying on the bench.'

'As always, the bed is made, however I don't think it's been slept in,' Alfred replied, looking around.

They stood still for a moment. Bruce's eyes twitched as he thought. He gestured to Alfred further into the house and went back into the master bedroom, clicking the "safe room" open and peered in.

Alfred crossed to the first intercom and clicked on the private garage.

Bruce reappeared. 'The suit's there.'

'She drove the Aston Martin to the bunker to change and take a Tumbler, sir,' Alfred replied, standing and looking at the screen, barely moving.

'What is it?' Bruce asked.

'The Aston Martin is not there, sir,' said Alfred, slightly defeated.

Bruce drew in a long breath, staring blankly at Mercedes and the empty parking space next to it on screen. 'Okay. Let's check the bunker.'

Alfred beat him to the lift.

The shipping container opened but the Aston Martin was sitting on it, preventing them from parking the car on the lift.

They blinked at it stupidly for a second.

'Well that beats searching the whole of Gotham,' Bruce said.

Alfred turned off the engine and stepped onto the lift, peering into the car.

Bruce followed and they waited impatiently for the bunker to rattle into sight.

The lights were all on and Bruce leapt down when the jump was small enough and began to search. He crossed past the lift to the kitchen first, an addition I had been adamant in including, to no avail and was back again by the time Alfred had stepped off, already heading for the suits.

They rose from the ground and Bruce and Alfred stopped in their tracks when they were met with the empty space where Thunder's suit should have been.

'Is she still out?' Alfred wondered.

Bruce cast an eye over the cave until he stopped at the two Tumblers. Alfred noticed his gaze and followed it. Bruce studied one with narrowed eyes until he realised why it had caught his attention and a horrible, sinking feeling came over him and he felt like he'd been punched in the gut so hard he was falling back.

'That Tumbler's still active.'

Alfred blinked, impressed that Bruce could tell before he realised what that meant. By the time he had, Bruce was testily racing toward it in long strides, breaking into a run when the top began to open.

The next thing I was being shaken awake forcefully. 'Evelyn?'

My head rolled upward, and the shaking ceased immediately, tension seeming to fill the air.

Light blasted through my eyelids and I shut them tighter, raising a hand with surprising difficulty to cover my eyes. I felt thick fabric on my face instead of skin and that was how I registered I was still in Thunder's suit.

Something was digging into my back and before I could do anything about it, I heard a sigh of relief yet irritation and a footstep as someone stepped back.

I leaned upward and gave a single cough, rubbing light into my eyes with the same hand as I pulled myself up with the other.

I paused when I glanced up, hearing a fond, exhausted sigh.

Bruce was leaning folded arms on the Tumbler looking at me with a heavy expression similar to one a relaxed parent would give their child for finding them sneaking cake out of the fridge at two in the morning; peeved, amused and a hint of chagrin.

'You alright?' I asked him, switching hands.

His expression deepened and he sighed fondly again, head lowering further as he half-heartedly glowered at me.

I noticed Alfred with a similar but far happier expression and glanced between them. 'What?'

A beat passed.

'Do you know what time it is?' Bruce asked, nodding at me, vexed.

I looked at the Tumbler's clock. 10:54. Oh. They hadn't heard a word, got worried, and came looking.

I smiled and laughed a little to myself before looking up at Alfred apologetically. He waved it away, clearly just happy to see me.

Bruce was the one that was mildly cross, in much the same way one might hold a grudge at someone for a while after being spooked by a prank.

'Sorry. Gaming evenings, you know how it is.' I straightened my torso to stand and immediately curled downward again, hissing and clutching my left side.

Bruce straightened straight away in concern, forgetting about looking peeved.

I fumbled around for a moment before fishing for something wedged between the armour of the suit. It fell out after a stubborn pull to roll into my hands. A, now deformed, bullet. I growled out an 'ugh,' and threw it across the room.

Bruce and Alfred turned their heads to watch it fly past and I stood up, hand still on my side.

Bruce turned back to me when the Tumbler shifted under the change in weight distribution and looked up.

'Did it get through?'

I pushed my side a little and sneered. 'My guess is there's a lovely bruise.'

'That is a lot better than some alternatives, ma'am,' said Alfred.

I stepped off the Tumbler and landed with a thud, then proceeded to sway a little as my just-woken state protested the activity. 'How did it go with the police?'

'Darley's in custody.'

I yawned lazily, starting for the suit racks. 'Good.' I stopped in my tracks and promptly turned around with a disgruntled tut and leant over the Tumbler, looking for my cowl. I failed to find it for so long that Alfred appeared and reached down, pulling it up to my bent-over eye level. I blinked at it and then looked at him.

Bruce chuckled behind us.

I was in a terrifying suit and huge cape, a dark hulking figure having ruined two cars and leapt onto a road no more than 11 hours ago, blinking at the masterful butler sheepishly.

I groaned and reached behind my head to pull my hair out as Alfred returned the cowl for me.

I gave up on my hair and looked down at my suit. Surprisingly not scuffed. I set to work undoing the bracers as I walked through the bunker, skirting around Alfred without looking up.

Bruce stood up and deactivated the Tumbler. 'Surely this is an excuse to avoid parties from now on,' he said.

'On the contrary,' the butler replied as I put the bracers back into the rack, 'you now have a valid explanation for all those injuries.' He pointed at Bruce.

'That's very comforting, Alfred,' Bruce retorted flatly.

I glanced over at them and laughed. 'If you've finished bullying your charge, Alfred, I would die for a cup of tea.'

'It's boiling, ma'am.'

I smiled very warmly at the wise butler. 'Keep that up and you can send him into as many excuse beatings as you want.' I nodded at Bruce.

'I wish you two never met!' came Bruce's slightly muffled yell as he bent into the Tumbler to start charging it.

'You wouldn't be here this morning if we hadn't,' Alfred replied smoothly and aimed for the kitchen.

I laughed softly and slipped the upper arms of the suit off.

Bruce stood up, rolling his shoulders as he waited for the Tumbler to beep. 'I think I'd prefer a physical fight than this.'

I got the boots off.

'Something tells me you wouldn't win one in your current state,' Alfred called.

Bruce opened the fuel cap. 'You're not going to test that, are you?'

I pulled the cape to the front of my shoulder and carefully pulled the back open and peeled the suit away from me, pushing it forward and stepped out, working it straight again and putting it in the rack.

'One biscuit for Dr Pendragon is all it takes,' Alfred deflected, voice changing as he moved around the kitchen wall.

'You wouldn't,' Bruce grinned, reaching for the fuel tank.

I yelled and groaned as I stretched immediately, trying to reach the walls.

Alfred arrived beside me, holding a large tray. Tea and biscuits on one half, a pile of clothes on the other. He set it on a nearby workbench and set about helping Bruce with the Tumbler.

I grabbed a biscuit and the clothes and waved my arm absentmindedly into the space between the suit and the wall. Two screens rose from the floor, one parallel and one perpendicular to the wall. I vaulted over one as it rose and disappeared into the make-shift room and tore my black undershirt off.

'No, I wouldn't,' Alfred said, tone now becoming serious and very grateful. 'If I didn't have a line to Thunder, there is no knowing what would have happened.'

Bruce hummed in agreement. 'Still hurts, though.'

'I'll make some herbal tea,' Alfred determined and went back to the kitchen.

I looked down at my side. 'Ooooooooooooooooh….. ouch.'

'Big bruise?' Bruce called.

'Bruise is an understatement,' I replied, 'I wouldn't be surprised if that could be classified as a hematoma.'

Concern and focus entered his voice. 'Internal bleeding?'

'Doesn't seem like it,' I muttered. 'When the hell did that happen?!' I groaned heartily and finished changing, sending the walls down.

Bruce brought a pile of Tumbler parts to the bench. 'What the hell did you do to the brakes yesterday?'

'Uhhhhhh..… slammed them on from about 145 miles an hour.'

Bruce didn't have a response, save for an expression easily described as perplexed. I paused when I discovered there were a lot more biscuits than normal on the tray and frowned at the kitchen.

'Alfred,' I began warmly, 'you don't have to thank me.'

Ping! Went the kettle. 'All the same, ma'am.'

'I do,' Bruce said simply.

I nodded at him, equally as simple and casual. By now we were very used to looking out for the other and rarely bothered with thanks. This was a different situation, though.

'That's quite a strange dynamic, there,' said Alfred, appearing with another tray of tea for Bruce.

I watched him, a little lost.

Bruce was also watching the butler, lost.

He saw our expressions and changed his focus. 'To save Gotham's own Mister Bruce Wayne and Batman deserves a reward.'

I got the impression I was being verified. I frowned suspiciously, exchanging equally suspicious glances with Bruce. 'You mean save Bruce?' I said confirmatively.

'Yes, madam, I do.' He put the tea tray down beside the other.

Bruce frowned a little, not missing the change from "ma'am" to "madam."

Neither did I. I smiled at Alfred, quizzically, mouth open as if to speak.

Alfred merely nodded and continued to retrieve the bullet I'd flung away.

Bruce and I did nothing but watch him cross the cave, pick up the bullet and leave to dispose of it until he'd left our sight.

Pause.

'This brake burns out far too quick.' I picked up a disc. 'Look at this.' Crash. 'Useless.'

Bruce nodded, eyes sparkling in amusement at the shattered debris. 'Any ideas?'

'One or two. You?'

'Three or four. Probably not so helpful.'