Comfort 6
"Does common sense mean so little in this house?" Alfred mutters as I arrive in the kitchen wearing my business suit. My twenty-four hour grace period is up and indeed the weekend itself: time to return to work. The old man knows me too well to think I would proceed with any other course of action. Fractured ribs or not, I am going to Wayne Enterprises and I am overseeing today's shareholders meeting. Two days is an eternity to be idle. I have finished being unproductive. It is time to return to routine.
"I understand you feelings, Alfred…"
"Oh spare me your rhetoric, Master Bruce." Alfred interrupts turning from preparing the morning's batch of scrambled egg whites to address me face-to-face, "I have heard your nonsense of duty and preserving your father's good name too many times to bother arguing with you. However, there was a time when you always listened to me. You may be the most remarkable man I have ever met but you are also a complete idiot when it comes to your health and wellbeing. The dichotomy is baffling. Kindly stop impressing your skewed philosophy on the boy or else he will begin to shrug off gunshot wounds and broken bones too. One fool I can handle, but two would be too much for any man of sound mind. Understand?" His tone is heated. His eyes mirror the fire in his voice. He fears my refusal to accept pain as an excuse to cease normal activities will affect the boy, like a sickness. I sigh.
"I always heed your advice when it comes to Dick. However, my body and what I do to it is my own affair." I tell him sternly. The old man is not willing to back down. I look past him to the eggs only to realise he has turned the heat off to avoid burning them: even in a state of exasperation, Alfred always has control.
"He should not be going to school in his condition. His bruising makes even dressing himself a painful experience: sitting in a classroom all day with little back support and no real time off his feet will only prolong his suffering. He wants to stay home. However as soon as he comes downstairs and sees you dressed for the boardroom, he'll want to go suffer just to keep your respect. Because if you can do it, he will assume he has to do it. Don't you see how damaging such a scenario is?"
"I am not staying home again. I indulged you last time, but this meeting is too big to miss. If I do not attend this meeting, if I do not show my face, the shareholders will lose confidence in the company. If its CEO does not appear to field grievances of its major contributors, the company may lose vital capital. Capital we can use to fund…"
"Schools and hospitals, perhaps even extra-curricular groups or much-needed revitalisation of the city's most destitute and dilapidated areas…" Alfred says to display this is not the first time I have preached to him about my visions, merely the latest recap. I am not pleased by the direction this conversation is going. The old man raises an eyebrow. "Have I struck a nerve, young man? Do you not like that I have listened to the same, worn excuses for your disregard of legitimate medical advice in favour of your own agenda? When you were young you had far more inventive reasons why you could not eat Brussel sprouts. These general philanthropic speeches pale in comparison to the reasoning that because quantum theory could not be disproven, there existed a universe in which you had already done the washing-up or tidied your room. Therefore there was little point doing so again because it might destroy the fabric of reality. That was my favourite excuse. Twelve years old and already too precocious for your own good. It has only gotten worse with age."
"You are rather overstepping yourself, Alfred. When Dick arrives downstairs, I will simply tell him he is not attending school today…or even the week if you deem such extreme measures to be a necessity for his recuperation." I say. The old man is not appeased. He narrows his eyes.
"And you will proceed to work in the meantime?"
"If you know me as well as you claim, you already know the answer to that." He smacks me across the face. The sting during the aftermath is intense. There is a moment of deathly silence before he speaks.
"How many times did I have to do that to you during your youth?"
"Twice." I answer without hesitation. The memories are still vivid. Alfred sighs.
"And those instances were?"
"When I drank my father's gin behind your back and then threw up at dinner."
"And the other time?"
"When I said I was going to kill every criminal in Gotham just in case I got my parents' murderer by process of elimination." I reply. He nods his head in satisfaction. His face softens slightly.
"So, bearing those two instances in mind, why do you think I slapped you again?"
"You think my blasé attitude to injury will get the boy killed. You think he may suffer internal bleeding but ignore it until it cannot be fixed or something to that effect." I say, again without any hesitation whatsoever. He offers a thin smile.
"Ah, we both know each well then, don't we? Do you really just think of me as your employee, Master Bruce?"
"Of course not. I love you as a father."
"You mean 'like' a father, don't you, Sir?" The old man corrects me. I shake my head.
"No, I do not. You have been my father for over twenty years. There is no-one else who has ever had a greater impact on my life than you." Alfred rolls his eyes, obviously assuming these admissions are born out of guilt and shame rather than freely volunteered. He is partly correct. He sighs again. There is deeper irritation in it now.
"Then why on earth do you ignore my advice? What possible gain is there in going to work in your current condition? What possible advantage does making the lad feel inept by comparison get you? This is partly for the boy's health and wellbeing, of course, but it is mostly for yours. You need rest. You have fractured ribs and a hellish amount of bruising. Any other man in your condition would be bedridden for weeks. Isn't it enough you are not? Do you really want to risk aggravation…for shareholders?" Now it is my turn to sigh. I reach up and unfasten my tie knot with one hand before pulling it off my neck.
"I will video conference with them this morning. I shall not be needing this." I hand the old man my necktie. He gladly takes it.
"Good boy." He says to bring me back to my childhood. I sometimes forget this man has known me since I was born. I will always be a boy to him, no matter how old I become. In turn, he will always be a father to me. I offer him a sporting smile. He smiles back and the tension between us has mercifully evaporated. As I turn around, Dick enters the kitchen still in his pyjamas. His facial expression morphs rapidly from being crestfallen to confused to quietly elated in the space of a few seconds. He knows what the absence of my neckwear means.
"Movie and pyjama party?" He checks. I nod my head.
"In retrospect, I believe it is the best thing to do today." The boy grins before looking past me to the old man.
"Thanks Alfie." Dick knows a third consecutive day of 'fun' is not my idea. He knows Alfred has bested me yet again on the issue of recovery. He is very perceptive.
"My pleasure, young man. How about you…escort Master Bruce upstairs, just to make sure he doesn't accidentally wander into work on the way there."
"With pleasure."
I decide to conduct the video conference in my suit before changing into pyjamas. The boy watches me from just out of shot the whole time. My answers to the barrage of questions I face from the shareholders are met with satisfaction. The board members thank me for my participation, despite illness, once the shareholders have taken their leave. Business is then formally concluded. Lucius Fox assures me I can have the entire week to recover if necessary. He says he will tide over the company in my absence. It is a more than satisfactory arrangement given my current circumstances: trapped between injuries and strict physician. I end the conference shortly after. The boy looks at me in curiosity. It is unusual for him. He wants to ask me something as I stand and unbutton my dress shirt. I prompt him.
"Yes?"
"Business is so boring: why the hell do you put up with that crud every day?"
"It is my job. You know that. A CEO cannot be just a figurehead, even when the company is in his name. It sends the wrong messages." I explain gingerly slipping my arms out of the shirt sleeves. It burns but I manage.
"Yeah sure, but the things you know about it, just off the top of your head, that's crazy. It's like you've got a stats sheet stapled to the inside of your skull."
"It is simple memorisation, nothing more. I have been conducting these meetings for many years. The format and questions raised are inevitably the same. It makes the whole process…very easy." I say dispensing with my suit trousers. The boy hands me my pyjama bottoms from the dresser. I accept them with a grateful nod.
"Don't you want a more exciting job though, like a parachute instructor or…" He pauses briefly before his eyes flash with inspiration, "a lion tamer?" I raise my eyebrows at this notion, slightly astonished it could come from a fourteen-year-old boy instead of a six-year-old.
"My current job is fine, but I appreciate your suggestions." I say stepping into my pyjamas and gently working them up my legs to ease the constant pain. They sit around my waist almost two minutes later. Dick frowns.
"How long did it take you to get into your suit this morning?" He asks having obviously guessed from the last ten minutes that it was no easy feat given my condition. I do not lie.
"Forty minutes."
"And you were still going to go to work?"
"I…am a creature of habit. The kind of habits I have are not easy to break."
"Alfie managed it easily enough."
"Alfred has cared for me my whole life: he knows how best to persuade me." I say forgoing my pyjama top in favour of letting my injuries breathe. Dick stiffly rises from the chair he has been sitting in for the past hour and pads towards the bed.
"Do you think he'd be willing to share any tips with me?" The boy asks clambering across the mattress to its far side. He is far smoother in his movement than a few days ago. Perhaps he can return to school before Thursday if his recovery continues unabated. I shake my head.
"Alfred does not like to share that particular power."
The day progresses. Our escape from the death-trap three days prior still occupies most of my thoughts, even as we watch more cinematic distractions. I do not fear for other people: these extreme methods were not designed to be used on anyone but Batman and Robin. However, by this juncture they will have realised we have escaped the trap and will likely be going underground to evade capture. Even when factoring in the assistance of the GCPD and my own knowledge of this city's underworld, it is unlikely they will resurface anytime soon. Their leader is too smart to risk being caught so soon after the event. It may be months before a sighting. Compounding this is the fact we still have no leads on a credible suspect for the role. My frustration is peaked. I am poked in the arm. I glance over and find Dick staring at me.
"Are you okay?" He asks. I nod.
"Of course. I was just considering the investigation again."
"Really? Because if you were really considering the investigation, I thought you might've at least looked at the file Alfie brought up with lunch."
"File?" I say with a frown. The boy gestures to the brown file currently sat in my lap. I scrutinise it. I must admit to not having noticed its presence at all. "I see. Did I thank him?"
"Yeah, but now I'm thinking it was reflexive instead of a conscious thought." Dick says as I pick up the file and begin to browse through it.
"That was an impressive sentiment to articulate. Well done." Alfred has correlated available information on the investigation and yielded three distinct suspects for further scrutiny. I spend the next hour reading and re-reading the folder contents, contrasting the information with the death-trap and other case elements. I am satisfied with my primary candidate. I will pass the information onto Jim this afternoon and hopefully ensure either they are in custody or awaiting trial when our convalescence is over. When I finish and look up, I notice the film is in the closing stages of the credits. A glance in Dick's direction shows the boy is engrossed in a comic book. Beside him is an untidy stack of other issues that appear well-thumbed. I gesture to the stack. "May I?" He lifts his current comic above his head to see what I am referring to. He smiles at me in surprise.
"You? You want to read my comic books?" His tone mirrors his incredulous expression. I nod. "Sure thing. Read away."
I pick up the top issue and appraise the cover. It is a Gray Ghost comic, issue one-hundred-and-forty-seven. I am pleased to see he is still active: I recall seeing the first issue appear when I was in my late teens. I quickly see from the initial few pages that the stories are not episodic but stand-alone adventures. Within half-an-hour I have consumed three issues in their entirety.
"You like them, huh?" Dick remarks after I finish my fourth issue. He seems amused by the possibility. I shrug my shoulders.
"They are…nice distractions from the current situation." I say. He nods in agreement.
"I've got like a hundred more in my room. Want to make an afternoon of it?" He offers. He sounds excited by the prospect. I smile at him.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
"Yeah. I've never seen you relaxed enough to read comics, especially not when you're laid up. It's nice to see the…the iron go out of your shoulders." He says. I raise my eyebrows at this unusual turn of phrase.
"The iron out of my shoulders?"
"Alfie told me about it. It means like…you're not all rigid and stiff for once."
"I am aware of its meaning. It is one of Alfred's favourites."
"So, this has to mean you think you've got the guy hook, line and sinker, right?"
"It is a very likely possibility I am correct, yes."
"Awesome. Never seen chilled Bruce before," The boy says standing up and raising his arms above his head, "I like this guy." He proceeds to dive over my lap and handspring to his feet when it hits the floor. He then stands perfectly still for almost three minutes with his back to me.
"Maybe a bit early for that?" I guess. I hear him suck through his teeth and nod his head.
"Yeah…that, that was really stupid. I'll be back with those comics in a sec." He moves with far more caution out of the door.
We sit and read the impressive collection the boy has amassed for almost two full hours. I have never known him to be so silent. The mute atmosphere is a welcome change: yesterday I was very close to throttling him, just to have some quiet. Halfway through our mammoth session of reading, he turned his body so he could lean against my right side. He then discarded his own issue in favour of reading mine. When I attempted to turn the page, he announced he was not finished reading. To that end, he has been the designated page turner for the ensuing three-and-a-half issues. He is a surprisingly slow reader. When I comment on this, he points out that it is more about the artwork than the speech bubbles and panels of exposition. I follow his example.
"Another one down." Dick says from his current position, wedged between my right side and the crook of my right arm. He slips his left arm out and closes the comic for me. I place it on a pile with twenty others. "Hey, am I getting hair on my face yet?" He asks, inviting me to sample his chin for myself. Even from here, I can see no evidence of growth whatsoever. Still, I indulge him and run my palm over his face. Nothing but smooth skin.
"You have a way to go yet, Dick." I say as he shifts his weight. It almost seems as if he is preparing to move away, only for him to sink further down into the mattress. He is not moving anywhere in the foreseeable future.
"My ass feels better now." He says, deciding to change topics to something less than innocent-sounding given the current arrangements. I sigh.
"Does it?"
"Yeah. I couldn't even sit on it the day before yesterday. It was just so sore." I frown at this line of conversation and what exactly he plans to do with it. He looks up at me and smiles.
"Nothing? For a set-up like that? Jeez, I can't even imagine being that mature." The boy says. I cuff him lightly on the top of the head.
"Hopefully it will arrive sooner rather than later. If this is to be the standard of your humour for the next five years, you won't see the end of your sophomore year." I say with false menace. He laughs.
"Oh, now that's cold. That's ice-cold." He says, "You'd never get rid of me. Not in a million years."
"And what makes you think your future is so secure at this house?" The boy instantly sits up and begins counting his perceived 'accolades' off his hand.
"Okay, been prepping this one forever. So first, I'm the only one who talks, I'm younger than everybody else, I'm the best-looking, the most athletically accomplished…"
"I would strongly argue the point on that." I say before he can continue with this fantasy monologue. The boy rolls his eyes at me.
"Bruce, I can do a quadruple somersault. I know for a fact, you can't."
"I was speaking of being the best-looking. Surely that distinction goes to Alfred." I reply with a smile he cannot help but share. He nods at this before quickly reconsidering the particulars of his statement.
"Then, I'm the cutest in this house. And I'm the most popular guy here. Tell me I don't cross your mind all the time when you're at work? And Alfie can't even go a day without thinking about me." I feel he is getting rather carried away at present. Fortunately, earth is never far away. I decide to bring him back to it.
"That is only because, in addition to having to feed you, make sure you brush your teeth properly and assist you with all your schoolwork, he is constantly plagued by your laundry. The man has seen your underwear more often than you have ever worn it. It is quite frankly the only mystery I have yet to solve, how you go through three pairs a day when not training or patrolling." However, the boy is unbowed by this barb. Instead of anything approaching adolescent embarrassment, he flashes me a mischievous grin.
"You really keen to know what goes on in my underwear, Bruce?" He inquires. I narrow my eyes.
"I am the world's greatest detective: unfortunately I already know. And that alone is a very compelling reason to throw you out." He responds by casually shrugging his shoulders.
"Yeah, if you were a religious nutjob maybe. Lucky for me, you know I'm not addicted to it or surfing the web for porn every night. Got better things to do with my time." He says, strangely at ease discussing his private habits with me in this intimate setting. I frown.
"I don't know that for certain."
"Of course you do. You know everything about me. And there's not a thing about me that you couldn't figure out in five seconds flat. Why do you think I never keep secrets from you? I can manage a few with Alfie, but you…you actually are the World's Greatest Detective: it's pointless even trying to lie. You'd catch me cold. So, have I watched porn this week?"
"How could I possibly discern that from…."
"Just answer the question, Columbo: yes or no?"
I sigh, folding my arms and briefly scrutinising his eyes. "No. Not this week."
"See what I mean? I'm not really embarrassed talking with you about this stuff because you pretty much already know it. It used to freak me out, you know? I couldn't tell my friends. Their parents want to believe the best in them, so they don't go looking for secrets and problems. You only deal in facts with me, what you can prove. So I never sneak out, because you'll know. I never smoke, because you'll know. I don't have a degree in forensic criminology or whatever it is. I'd miss something and you'd pick it up straight away. I thought it was a bad thing, but actually I'm glad. Not many dads would compile that much information on their sons and not constantly use it against them. Most dads probably wouldn't know half the stuff you know about me. I think it keeps me honest, having you as my dad." He offers with a smile, "And the fact that you're a total badass and cool as hell doesn't hurt either."
"You can have a private life, Dick. And I do not know everything. For example, I have no idea whom you are courting at present."
"Yeah you do."
"Honestly, I…" I pause when the boy's eyes narrow at me in blatant scepticism of my claim. I about to continue denying the fact. However, something tells me it would be wrong in the circumstances. Teenagers do not forgive easily, especially at Dick's age. I sigh in defeat. "It is Heather Watts, the girl who sits two rows behind you in Geography." He nods in satisfaction.
"Yes it is. Alfie may tell you these things, but you choose to remember them." He lounges back into his reclined position against my side, "Movie and pyjama day over: comic book afternoon is still going strong though." He gestures to the pile, "Pick up another one designated holder!" I stare hard at him. He grins sheepishly. "Please?"
"Better." I say, picking up another unread issue.
We continue our previous ritual of holding and page-turning through another two issues.
"My dad and me used to do this, when we were travelling around." Dick tells me as we reach the middle of another adventure. "I used to just lie here like this and turn the pages when I was ready. He told me one day I'd get too big to snuggle in beside him like this. Clearly he'd never met you, the guy who could've eaten him whole and still had room for seconds." He says turning another page.
"Did you engage in this activity on your journey into Gotham?" I ask, mindful of opening still sore wounds. He nods.
"Yeah, issue…one-hundred: Gray Ghost and the Return of the Mad Bomber. It was a good one."
"May I ask why you have only just now started the habit with me?" He shrugs and turns another page.
"Never thought you'd go for comic books. Always struck me as a proper intellectual. I'm glad you're up for it though: I want to do this again tomorrow."
"Even though we're not travelling anywhere special?"
"It was never about the travelling: it was just spending time with him. The travelling was his excuse to have me all to himself. 'Guy Time' he used to call it. My mom understood. He loved me, but it hard for him to show it sometimes. You and him would've gotten on really well I think." The boy says with a nostalgic smile. I smile back, grateful for his sharing.
"If you are anything to go by, I'm sure we would have."