First off: Thank you guys for the kind comments! They mean a lot! This chapter has been giving me quite a bit of trouble, so I'm sorry it's taken so long to post it! I'm not fully pleased with it, but I figured I've messed around with it enough. And it is kind of appropriate for Father's Day, so there's that, I guess. And no worries: Chapter 7 shouldn't take me nearly so long.
The first thing Helena thought when Alfred entered the room was that he had a lot more hair than she was used to seeing. He wasn't as thin, either. She stood when she saw him.
"This is Miss Bertinelli," Bruce said, looking at Helena. "She needs our help."
"A relative of yours, Miss Kyle?"
"Um, no." Selina looked offended at the thought.
"Quite a striking resemblance, then. You two could be sisters."
Helena had actually heard that before. Normally her mom liked it.
"Miss Bertinelli's from out of town," Bruce said before either Selina or Helena could reply. "She came to steal one of the unidentified objects in the lab run by Wayne Enterprises."
Helena didn't want to look at Alfred. Alfred could see through schemes faster than anyone she knew—even Dad.
"Steal?" Alfred raised his eyebrows and Helena massaged her temples.
"She's been hired to take it to a secure location to keep it out of Hugo Strange's hands."
Helena looked Alfred in the eyes and hoped he didn't realize that her own were mirror images of the boy not three feet away from her. Alfred been the first to verbally comment on her appearance, and she didn't like it.
"I can't give you much information, but I work for a…private company—well, a team, rather— who has a vested interest in protecting this item from falling into Strange's hands," Helena said.
"So you've come to obtain the help of two teenagers and a middle-aged butler. Forgive my bluntness, miss, but we're not interested."
Bruce opened his mouth to speak, but Helena beat him to it. "You're not just a butler," she said quickly, and he stopped in the doorway. "You were a British Special Operations Executive."
Alfred turned. "How did you know that?"
"I did my homework. I know Thomas Wayne found you in London when you were in bad place, personally and financially. Offered you a job here."
"Who told you that?" Alfred barked.
Helena held her ground, though she'd never been in a situation like this with Alfred, of all people. He was the one person in the house she never got into arguments with. "Does it matter? I know that you—all three of you—can be trusted. You don't know if I can, and I'm sorry for that. But we have a common goal—to protect Gotham and those we love. That I promise you."
"This stone—what can it do?" Alfred asked.
"It's a power source. It's quite small, but it packs a punch. In the right—or wrong—hands, it could change history." Quite literally.
"What do you plan to do with it?"
"Well, it can't be destroyed," Helena said. "Attempting it would be unbelievably dangerous. I'm not privy to all of my employer's plans, but it will be kept safe." Gosh, she hoped she could keep this story straight. At this rate, she was going to start having to keep a notebook.
"I can come with you if you want," Bruce had asked. "Do you need help carrying anything?" He had driven her back to her apartment to get her things. Bruce had suggested that it would be easier if she stayed at Wayne Manor. Alfred had agreed, but Helena privately thought it was just so he could keep a closer eye on her. He had agreed to help, but not without his misgivings. Helena hoped he'd come around to trusting her in time.
"I don't have a lot," Helena said. "I'll only be a few minutes."
Really, she didn't have much. The device, wrapped in a scarf, was the first thing to go into her bookbag, followed by the laptop. Her clothes fit into the duffel bag, and she stuck her wallet in her jacket's inside pocket. She'd find a safe place to hide it when she got back to the Manor. If she could maneuver herself into getting Alfred to offer her her old room, she knew just the place.
"For someone who isn't from around here, you seem to know Gotham," Bruce said as she got back into the car.
"I'm a fast learner," she said. "I've been here almost a week." She changed the subject. "Do you think Alfred believes me? About all of this?"
"He's willing to keep an open mind, I think," Bruce said as they stopped at a red light. He looked at Helena. "He doesn't trust you, but that's not a surprise."
"Yeah," Helena said. "I guess not."
"Don't go too deep, Miss Helena," Alfred's voice reminded her. "Remember the way we practiced."
Helena took a deep breath and poised the needle above the sharp cut on her father's upper arm.
"It'll be fine, Helena," her father said. "I trust you."
She bit her lip as she poked the needle though the skin. "Does that hurt?" she asked.
"No."
Helena scrunched her nose. "I can tell when you're lying, Dad."
"I'm sorry," he said seriously. "I know better than to try to pull one over on you."
She stared at the wound in front of her. She wasn't normally squeamish, but it was different when you were the one trying to put someone back together. It was the responsibility of it that caused the queasiness in her stomach, even if the injury wasn't a serious one. "A good one for her to practice on," Dad had said to Alfred. Helena had been excited about it. Now she was nervous.
"It's not bad," her father reassured her. "I'm used to it."
"Your stiches are even, Miss Helena," Alfred said approvingly. "Very regular. You're much better at this than your father."
"Maybe we've got a future doctor on our hands," Dad said.
At twelve, Helena was certain she knew what she was going to do with her life. "I'm going to be a lawyer, Dad," she said, carefully pulling the thread through his skin. "I already told you."
"I remember you telling me." Her father didn't smile, but he had the glint in his eye he got whenever he was about to tease her. "But I couldn't recall whether that was before or after the prima ballerina."
Helena could feel herself relax, and the suturing came easier now. It didn't feel that much different than her first lesson when she'd practiced on a banana skin.
"The ballerina was when I was ten, Dad. But it's too much of a commitment if I plan on working with you, too."
"And being a lawyer isn't?" Dad said.
"It would be useful," Helena maintained. "I could see both sides of the law at once."
"She has a point," Alfred said.
"Yeah." This time her dad did smile. "Smart kid."
"She must get that from her mother, Sir."
"Something amusing you?" Bruce asked.
"Hmmm? Oh." Helena realized he'd seen her smile and shook her head. "I was just thinking that Alfred reminds me of my grandfather, that's all."
"So you've got a family?"
"Everyone has a family, Bruce. At least, everyone's had one at one point." She shouldn't have said that. Bruce didn't know that one day he'd have more family than he knew what to do with. Right now…well, right now he didn't really have many people, did he?
"I don't know," he said. "Secret agent types don't seem like the kind to have a lot of family connections."
"You'd be surprised." Helena raised her brows and looked out the window. Just then, her stomach grumbled. Embarrassed, she pressed a hand to her midsection. "Sorry."
"When was the last time you ate?" Bruce asked.
"Uh, this morning I think?" She hadn't really been concerned with food. "Yeah. I had frozen waffles."
"All carbs." Bruce shook his head. "No wonder you're hungry." He changed lanes. "There's a diner nearby. Want me to get you something?"
"Wow. Bruce Wayne, eating at a diner." She grinned.
"Hey, their food is pretty good. Selina introduced it to me, back when I was staying with her."
"I could go for a burger."
"Burger it is then."
"And fries?"
"I think I can afford fries," he said. He looked at her and smiled, and Helena breathed easier. The one thing that continually surprised her was how much more relaxed her father was. The opposite was true with both Selina and Alfred; they must have mellowed over the years because she'd never seen either of them as uptight as they seemed to be now. But while Helena had always been the one who could get Bruce to laugh, who could get him to accept all of her enthusiastic hugs, there was a world-weary seriousness about him that he could rarely shake. She could see it deep within Bruce even now—that darkness was still there.
Maybe he just hadn't fully accepted it yet.
Bruce parked the car. "Do you want to go in?"
"Alfred's probably anxious," Helena said. "If we take too long he might think I've kidnapped you or something." She also didn't like the idea of being seen with Bruce Wayne when she was supposed to be keeping a low profile. Bruce took the hint and went into the diner by himself and came back with a bag.
"Burger and fries. And a milkshake," he said, handing it to her.
"Thanks." She reached inside. "Oh yes." She took a bite. "As a kid I had gymnastic lessons, and usually my dad was working, but sometimes he'd leave early and we'd get burgers." She smiled and glanced at Bruce. "And a milkshake."
The smile Bruce had was nostalgic. "My dad would take me out for burgers on his lunch break sometimes. I was never a big fan of fast food, but I liked spending time with him."
"You never—" She stopped. You never told me that before. "I heard about what happened to him. I'm sorry."
Bruce nodded. "I still wonder what things would have been like if he hadn't died."
Helena wondered too. Would he have ever even met her mother? Would he have become Batman? And what would a Gotham that still had the Waynes in it look like?
"Bruce…." She set the burger down to pause and looked at him. "If you had a chance to somehow…I don't know, go back in time and save your parents, would you? If you knew that it might mess something up in the present, now?"
"How do you mean?"
Helena shook her head. "Nothing. It was a stupid question."
"No, it wasn't."
"It's just we never really know how our actions might impact the future. If we did, I wonder what we'd change."
"Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if we hadn't gone out that night," Bruce said, eyes serious and on the road. "But then I remember how they died. It wasn't an accident. And I wonder, then, if it hadn't been then, when? The next day, the next week? Maybe I could have stopped that night, but even if I knew, would I have been able to stop it?"
Helena felt goosebumps on her arms. She hadn't thought of that.
He looked at her. "But that doesn't mean if I had the chance, I wouldn't try."
When Bruce and Helena got back, Selina was on the couch, feet on the coffee table, glancing through one of the books from Bruce's shelves. She looked up at their entrance.
Helena lifted her duffel bag. "Got my stuff."
It wasn't anything particularly profound, but she felt like she needed to throw out a greeting of some sort. Before Selina could answer, another voice interrupted.
"Miss Bertinelli."
Helena spun around to see Alfred behind her.
"I can show you to your room now." He offered his hand to carry the unwieldy duffel bag and Helena was about to refuse until she realized he was thirty years younger than she was used to and could probably handle it.
"Oh, sure. Thanks."
Helena looked back to Bruce and Selina who, honestly, looked like they needed to talk.
"I'll…uh…yeah." She pointed to Alfred's back, already going up the stairs with the duffel bag. "I'll be right back."
She ran to catch up with him. "Thanks for letting me stay here," she said.
"It's Master Bruce's house."
Helena gave a half laugh. "Yeah, but—" She shrugged.
Alfred stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Yes?"
"I mean, he listens to you, right?"
Alfred turned back around and looked at her until she felt uncomfortable and then turned and continued.
Helena bit her lip and followed him. She almost collapsed with relief when she saw what room he'd led her to. Hers. She dumped the backpack on the bed. "Thanks."
"Can I take a shower?" Helena asked.
"There's a bathroom through that door," Alfred said, nodding towards the left side of the room. "It's already stocked with towels, in case you need to shower."
"Thanks."
Again, the setting was comforting. Her own bedroom, her own bathroom—it was a million times better than the apartment. As soon as Alfred was gone, she put the backpack under the bed and then went over to the fireplace. The best thing about Wayne Manor, Helena always thought, was how many hiding places it had. Crouching down, she ran her fingers across the bricks of the fireplace until she found the loose one. Pulling it out, she removed her wallet from her jacket and placed it into the hollowed brick before returning it. Hiding the device would be a little more difficult—there weren't any places large enough in the room. For now, she'd leave it under the bed until she'd had her shower, and then she'd decide the best place to put it.
Helena let herself linger in the warm water. Maybe it was procrastination. Alone in the shower, she didn't have to be constantly on her guard, worried about saying the wrong thing and messing up the timeline. But she couldn't hide in there forever. She toweled off and twisted her hair up with a huge clip that had somehow ended up in the bathroom drawer. (Had it been her grandmother's? That was an odd thought). Dressing in the pair of purple sweatpants and the black t-shirt she'd bought her second night in Gotham past, she went back into her room. And stopped.
Alfred.
Alfred was in her room.
And he was holding the machine.
*I couldn't remember precisely what Alfred's military background was in Gotham, so I just went with the traditional "Alfred Pennyworth backstory" from his wiki page. Hopefully it's not too far off.