Chapter Twelve

Alfred arrived on the scene two seconds later after hearing all the noise. He stared unbelievingly at the scene before him but dutifully went about his work, replacing the machines to their rightful place around the sick bed and checking Drake's vitals to make sure no further damage had been dealt. He frowned at the state of the tube in Drake's throat and quickly remedied it. "May I ask how this madness began, Master Bruce?" he asked nonchalantly.

Batman pulled his cowl off and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "He woke up. He seemed fine but Robin and Nightwing walked in and he panicked so I sedated him. The rest, you know."

Alfred frowned minutely, but the expression was gone as soon as it came. "He wasn't due to wake for at least three days."

Bruce sighed. "I wasn't expecting it either. By the time I noticed he was awake, he had already noticed me."

"His limbs shouldn't be working properly yet."

"They wern't, he collapsed as soon as he got on his feet!" Nightwing answered for Bruce.

"How strong were the sedatives you gave him?" And the harsh interrogation continued for a long while after.

Tim just sat on the sidelines, silently panicking. He knows! Oh, God! He knows! Ran like a mantra in his mind. It wasn't long before Bruce noticed his agitation. "What's wrong?" he asked, Nightwing turned to Robin, also curious to know the answer.

"He knows! Allen knows Tim Drake is Robin!" Robin blurted out.

Nightwing glanced at his mentor, but coming to the conclusion that Bruce wouldn't say anything, approached his younger brother. "Um... wow, I don't know what to say to you, kid." he admitted sheepishly. "But it's not certain that he's an enemy. He might be a friend, you never know!" he told Tim encouragingly. "Hey! He might even consider joining the Young Justice!"

Robin pulled his mask off and Tim scowled. "If he was behind the assult on Gotham City Hall, then that's the last thing I want!" he looked slightly aghast. "I think even Penguin would have a heart attack if he knew how much damage Allen did with his gun!"

"That's nothing compared to what Superboy could do." Nightwing quipped.

"Allen is human! That's what scares me!" Tim shot back.

"If it's any consolation to you, the gun fired blanks." Tim raised his eyes dumbly to his brother's.

"What?"

"The. Gun. Shot. Blanks." Nightwing enucleated each word slowly and clearly for Tim. "The damage to the city hall was all previously set with just enough explosives to pock mark the podium and tear the drapes."

"And blow through floors." Tim added wryly.

"And blow through floors. But let's have this conversation, say, after we find out what side he's on."

"Couldn't agree more." Tim frowned as if deep in thought, his brows furrowing. "How did he find out, anyway? I mean, of course there's the whole finding-the-secret-passageway hint but... he couldn't know for sure, could he?"

As though to answer his question, Bruce walked over to where Drake's personal effects had been collected and picked out the mercenary's watch. He handed the gadget to Tim. "It shows time, temperature, humidity, and coordinates. He must've realized the coordinates of the Batcave are only minutely altered from the Wayne Manor."

Tim stared at the watch face, it seemed to mock him. "What do we do now?"

The next time Drake woke up, his body didn't feel as numb as before, making every muscle strain and throb like he hadn't felt the first time he woke up. He heard a slight shuffle of feet in the distance and kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep. The pair of feet neared him and he became aware of a low voice murmuring and muttering something incoherent. The man, Drake supposed it was a man by the sheer length between the man's strides, moved quietly to his bedside and began adjusting various bandages and wires that ran up and down Drake's body. It took effort to stop himself from shivering or tensing visibly. He hated when people touched him. Bodily contact was saved specifically for when fighting, or sometimes when the Custodian would ruffle his hair. It was an annoying habit the man had, but it worried Drake more when he didn't do it. He forced himself to keep breathing steadily.

"Young Sir, if you are conscious, please show so." Drake knew that voice, cool, crisp, and undeniably British. Alfred Pennyworth.

Drake let out a breath and forced his heavy eyelids open. "When did you notice I was awake?" he asked and winced at the hoarseness of his own voice.

"When your heart rate elevated as I began adjusting your bandages, Sir." Drake glanced up at the screen showing his heart rate and groaned. He had entirely forgotten about that!

"What time?"

"11:30 a.m."

"Day?"

"Three days since you were last awake, Sir."

"You know what, just get me a calendar."

"It's the twentieth of December, Sir. You had but to ask."

"Clever, arn't we?" Drake sneered. Alfred looked unaffected.

Drake pondered for a moment on the upsides and downsides of getting up now. The charity event wasn't near the beginning of December and if Batman was still alive now, that meant Bruce Wayne was still alive. If Malak was still alive, he must've given up trying to assassinate him, meaning he had no need to stay. He must be on the other side of the globe now. And wherever Malak went, Drake would never be too far behind. And then there was the issue of his physical readiness. There was no way he was in any condition to get into another fight with Malak. He frowned. He needed to get in contact with the Custodian to tell him he'd be staying in Gotham for a while. Maybe he could follow up on his investigations while he was healing. Maybe he could sight-see? He wanted to observe the Joker, he wanted to know more about the international terrorist Ra's al Ghul, he wanted to see Red Hood again.

Alfred, who had been observing the young boy's behavior, noticed the similarities he had with Bruce. His thoughts never showed on his face but he had a cold, calculating look in his eye which alerted the butler of a few things he could be thinking of. And none of them associated with Drake staying in bed and healing his body. The butler frowned.

"If you will, Sir. Your body needs healing. I will advise you to rest." Alfred's voice broke Drake out of his reverie.

"Hmm?" Drake managed to inquire quite intelligently.

"Rest. Master Allen. And healing." Alfred intoned with an aura of authority. Drake never was good with taking orders. Now his mind was wandering off to the upsides and downsides of upsetting the elderly gentleman. Who knows? It could be interesting.

He shrugged his right shoulder when moving his left shoulder proved too painful. "Sure, I'm still kinda groggy anyway." he closed his eyes and listened as the butler nodded in satisfaction and walked away. He was just about to make his move when the footsteps returned. He opened his eyes. "Something the matter?"

Alfred was holding a glass of water and a few pills. Drake was wary of the pills and made sure it showed on his face. "Have no fear, Master Allen. It is merely a sleeping aid." the man eyed a nearby surface and Drake turned to look at it. The desk was cluttered slightly with obscure mechanical gadgets that Drake couldn't guess their use for and there was a broken glass. Had he been thrashing about in his sleep? He blushed.

"Sleeping aid?" he repeated, holding out his right hand for the pills. He had never taken any medication for sleeping problems before, the Custodian said he had no need for it. But then again, the man slept like a rock. He popped them into his mouth and chased them with the glass of water Alfred had been so kind to bring him. His eyelids began drooping slowly closed as soon as he returned the glass to the butler and he lay back. He saw the butler walk away and out of the Batcave before he closed his eyes entirely.

He waited five minutes, reassuring himself that the butler would not return. Then he snapped his eyes open and heaved himself over the side of the bed. He spit out the pills he had hidden under his tongue and smiled triumphantly. He had regained use of his legs! His left arm was in a cast, his ribs, how many had broken, he wasn't sure, and his ankle hurt him terribly but he could move. He frowned a little. He was completely naked save some shorts that he had no doubt was supplied by Tim. He looked around and his eyes fell on Dick's leather jacket that was thrown carelessly over the back of a chair. He took it but frowned to himself stubbornly. There was no way he was sneaking outside without pants.

Five minutes later, he was fully clothed in Dick's jacket, which he zipped up fully to hide his bandaged chest. And the pants he wore had once been part of a Batsuit. It was several sizes too large for him and hung loosely from his hips, at least they didn't stick to his skin like Robin and Nightwing's suits had done. Nobody would see him long enough to know the difference anyway. Now for his escape. He turned a full circle in the cave until his eyes fell on a sleek, red motorcyle. He smiled. There was definitely one upside in escaping.