Chapter 19 No Reason to Pretend

For Alfred Pennyworth, old age meant a significant amount of slowing in his once busy and unpredictable schedule. A traditional man, he was a firm believer in the importance of a steady and reliable routine, as it was the only real way to get everything done. Though of course, he certainly proved his ability to improvise repeatedly when a certain stubborn billionaire's more than eccentric nightlife called for it. That same nightlife made worry a near consent emotion for Alfred, only varying in degrees.

Though it had subsided slightly after Batman hung up his cape, it was back again in full force now. Alfred may not have learned about the fallout of Helena learning the truth as soon as he would have when he was younger (since he now knew details ten minutes after they happened rather then one minute), but it gave him much to worry over.

When Cassie learned the truth she was furious with Bruce, and was now a rare sight around the Manor. Barbara and Dick stayed decidedly neutral on the manner. Though both would occasionally show their leanings, as Barbara helped with the charade and felt the need to defend it while Dick's speech was tinged with words like controlling, manipulative, and bat prick.

Concerning the young woman, Helena refused to speak with her desperate mother. Neither did she so much as look at her father.

Not that he was doing anything to rectify that. He'd only gotten more closed off since the big reveal. He hadn't even visited Alfred in weeks since. Alfred knew by now, if it'd been a few years ago, he would have insisted on delivering Master Bruce some food and seeing to it that it was eaten. Providing him with the perfect opportunity to explain to his troubled employer that while he may believe he is doing the best thing by giving her space, in reality he is only supporting the young girl's fear that he cares nothing for her.

Alfred remembered Bruce Wayne's reaction to his first learning about his impending fatherhood, and knew for certain that nothing could be further from the truth.

Cassie paused her actions and watched the figure in the bed again. His steady, even breathing was right for a sleeping man, but she knew he'd been trying to keep his sleep light so he could catch her before she left. She'd adapted her habits accordingly, and that included not moving as she went to grab a left shoe. When he satisfied her by rolling over once more she resumed her combination of picking up her various items and dressing.

Cassie was determined to avoid Bruce by any means necessary after this last fight. Which meant using the satellite cave in the city and rotating with Barbara and Dick on checking on both Alfred and Bruce daily. She found her other shoe and took one last scan of the room as if she would never be returning.

It was a lie, but one she liked to believe. She liked it as much as the one that got her into this situation. That lovely one that believed she only did this because the commissioner's bed was more comfortable than that cot in the cave.

Kissing Ethan Grant as Batwoman was a lark, but when she met up with him again at diner known for its cheap food and fast service, it kept replaying through her mind. She didn't believe in looking at things too closely or she may have also noticed the timing of her intensified crush only days after seeing Tim once more. Though inept at seducing she learned to read his body language and change her attitude accordingly though staying her true, blunt self. He found her charming, and she found him suitable.

The only real difference of opinion they were having was the very reason she was sneaking out of his apartment another morning to escape to the city. Ethan wanted something more resembling a relationship than her showing up on his doorstop at a late hour and leaving again before he woke.

Cassie knew better though, she knew where getting close to someone led, the only place, to pain. She pressed the button for the elevator, and looked at her watch. Damn. She was going to be late.

"There is no integrity left in Journalism. None."

Normally, nothing gave Clark more pleasure than having his son come visit him. Especially when his mother was not around to pester him about future grandchildren. Clark knew the boy would settle down as soon as he met the right girl. Though he'd thrown a hint or two himself. He just didn't have time to hear this rant again today. He needed to be in Gotham in less than ten minutes, and Clark knew from experience that this topic could be carried on for hours.

Bruce had called. He wanted to talk. Clark also knew from experience that if Bruce wanted to talk it was going to be about something big, and he didn't tolerate tardiness, not even by a second. Especially when he knew that it took a fraction of second to make the trip.

But Clark just didn't have it in him to cut off his son. "One reporter does not equal the entire profession, son."

Jason faced his father. "I'm not just talking about Gina Vale. Though she is the worst, the most deplorable. No. Everyone is just looking for the big story, the one to get their names in lights. What ever happened to seeking the truth? Ferreting out corruption for the betterment of human society?"

Even in his impatience Clark felt a twinge of pride. He couldn't have asked for a better son. Then he heard the car coming towards the house. "You're mother's coming home."

Jason's hearing picked up on it too. He went out to help her with her bags. Clark knew it was the perfect opportunity to escape but he couldn't just leave with no explanation. So as they sat bags down he when to kiss Lois on the cheek. "Good to see you're home, home. I've got to be going now. Please stay, son, I'll be back."

Both of them looked confused. Lois asked, "Where are you going in such a rush?"

Clark only said, "Bruce wanted to talk," before running off.

Lois and Jason stood, still looking confused. Lois looked at her son, "Do you know why Bruce Wayne would want to talk?"

He just looked right back. "If not for the absolute certainty that Bruce would know, I would've followed to eavesdrop."

Lois shrugged and went to unpacking bags. "Oh well, your father can't keep a secret, we'll know soon enough. Why don't I make us something to eat and we can catch up?"

Most boys would brighten at a home cooked meal from their mother; Jason blanched. He stopped Lois from unloading anymore. "Why don't I finish unpacking for you and then grab some authentic Chinese while we wait for Dad instead?"

Helena grabbed a drink she couldn't properly pronounce and followed her pseudo mentor to a corner booth. It was hidden in the back of the small café but offered a great view of every other table in the place. Helena sled into the booth facing away from the other people, looking at her drinking companion, "Didn't figure you much for a café girl."

Cassie ignored her. "This is a lesson in fighting."

Helena raised an eyebrow. "What like lift up the coffee?" She demonstrated with her own cup. "And set it down. A modern wax on, wax off."

Cassie missed the joke. "I want you to observe." Helena turned her head to the café patrons. "No. Too conspicuous."

Helena understood now. Cassie had mentioned the importance of using peripheral vision. She relaxed, and leaned back even resting an arm on the top of her seat. "What am I observing?"

Cassie nodded her head. "The man and woman at the second table closest to us, what are they saying?"

She didn't move her position, but Helena wasn't so relaxed anymore. This was going to be more than just using her eyes better. "You expect me to read their lips?"

Cassie brought her coffee to her lips. "I expect you to read them."

Now that she was fairing well in fighting, Helena forgot how demanding Cassie could be. She assumed a different position, leaning slightly forward and moving her lips as though she was in deep conversation with Cassie. She strained to get a good look at what they were saying. "The woman is saying something about a summer house."

Cassie shook her head, and Helena kept her attention split. "I didn't ask you to read lips, I wanted you to read them. She isn't looking at him, and is gripping her cup too tightly. He is slumped over and keeps glancing at her. They just broke up, and are sorting through it now. He feels bad about doing it and she's barely hanging on."

Helena had been impressed by Cassie's fighting skills, but this blew her away. Cassie had barely taken a glance at them.

Cassie took another sip and continued with a nod to another table. "Try again."

Helena made progress in the hour, but was still relieved when Cassie got up. "We done?"

"No. Restroom."

Helena gave a small smile. "Aren't we both supposed to go?"

Cassie looked puzzled. "Why?"

Helena shrugged. "It's what women do."

Cassie still looked puzzled. "Who would watch our wallets?"

"We take them with."

Helena had to struggle not to laugh at look of disgust that crossed Cassie's face. Helena continued her people watching, she was getting much better at this, but then she'd always been a quick study. She only lost it when Cassie's personal communicator started ringing. Never one to pass up a chance for mischief, Helena picked it up. "Hello."

"Who is this?"

It was a male voice. Helena thought it sounded familiar but couldn't place it. "You called, shouldn't you know?"

"Well, I meant to call Cassandra Cain, but perhaps this is the wrong number."

Helena gave a rich laugh. "You mean she didn't give it to you? You found it on your own? I'm impressed." She heard him give a slight sigh. "She's in the restroom, can I take a message?"

"Just tell her that Ethan Grant called and wants to speak with her."

Commissioner Grant, of course. Helena kicked herself for not picking up on the accent. "Of course."

"You never did tell me your name."

Helena spotted Cassie coming out the door, "I think that's for the best, Commissioner."

Helena set the communicator aside. Nothing looked amiss when Cassie took her seat.

Other than Helena's smirk.

Cassie eyed her, "What?"

The smirk only grew. "Ethan called."

Cassie gave her communicator a dirty look as though it betrayed her. Helena continues, "He got the unlisted number by good old fashioned detective work apparently. It's encouraging to know that Gotham's PD isn't completely worthless."

Cassie stood. "I'm leaving." Helena figured her teasing must have hit her worse than she thought. She stood to leave as well, but Cassie held out a hand. "No you stay. Learn."

Against her better judgment Helena did just that.

Clark landed on the steps of Wayne Manor. Bruce had informed him just to walk in and come to the Cave, but for some reason it felt like a trap. Clark found himself mildly surprised when he was allowed to do just that, then wondered where the feeling had come from in the first place.

"You're late."

Clark looked over his friend. Bruce didn't look good. Yes, he'd seen him look much, much worse, but if had been twenty years past he would have guessed Batman has been obsessing over a case for weeks now. Then Clark wondered why he dismissed it now. Though Batman was retired, it hadn't been like his own retirement. Bruce may not wear the cowl anymore, but he spent as much time at that computer working cases as he ever did. "Hello to you too, Bruce."

Bruce grunted in response. He turned back to his work. Clark wasn't sure if he was being ignored or just delayed, but after a minute passed he decided to say something. "So, Bruce, how's Cassie handling Gotham?"

It was the wrong question. Bruce tensed immediately. Then finished whatever he'd been doing. "I did not ask you here for idle chit chat." Bruce pressed a button and an image of a young woman filled the screen.

Clark was curious. "Who is she?"

Bruce turned to face him. "My daughter, Helena."

Clark could not have been more shocked if Bruce would've pulled out some kryptonite. "What? How?"

"Considering that you have a son yourself, I doubt I have to tell you the mechanics, Clark."

Clark didn't even process the fact Bruce made a joke. "How is the first time I ever heard of a daughter, Bruce? I thought we were friends."

Bruce darkened. "This had nothing to do with you, Clark."

"You have a daughter for," Clark looked closer at the picture, "twenty years and you don't tell me. You don't see a problem with this?"

"No one knew, Clark that was the point. That is the point."

Clark wasn't listening, not ready to give up on the betrayal. "It's always secrets and hidden truths with you Bruce. Contingencies. Secret Plans. Protocols. Got any other bombshells, Batman?"

Bruce just stared at him with narrowed eyes.

Clark still felt disgusted. "I don't suppose I warrant worthy enough to know who the mother is, do I?"

"Selina." Clark was sure if that completely surprised him or was the only possible answer. "That's why Clark. The daughter of Batman and Catwoman could never be safe, if known."

Clark still hadn't let go of the anger. "But she is now."

Bruce blinked and quickly looked away. It was the closest thing to real vulnerability he'd ever seen Bruce show. He pushed his resentment aside to really listen to his friend. "Bruce, I'm here. What's wrong?"

Though his back was to Clark, Bruce's tone had not wavered. "Someone who knows is trying to kill her. Already got her adopted parents. She is…" Bruce paused, "…upset with me for hiding her, but I must protect her. That's where you are needed."

Clark pushed any further questions or feelings aside, knowing the best way to go about this would be calmly and logically. "Wouldn't Jason be a better choice to keep tabs on Helena?"

Bruce faced him again, mask of stone firmly in place. "No. She doesn't a superhuman guard and would not appreciate a rescue by Superman in the slightest. She would resent the implications that she couldn't handle a situation herself."

She really is your daughter was Clark's first thought. "How would I be a better candidate?"

"I just want to you to keep your ears peeled, so to speak. I don't have to worry about an unwanted rescue from you."

Clark knew if it came to it that would not be true, but kept the thought to himself. "Who else knows?"

"Alfred, Dick, Cassie, Barbara and J'onn."

Clark was surprised. "J'onn knew before I did?"

Bruce shrugged. "He's been keeping tabs on her on my behalf for weeks." Clark wanted to say more but Bruce cut him off, "That doesn't matter. Will you do this for me Clark?"

Clark took a deep breath. "Of course, Bruce. I'll let you know if I hear anything."

Before he took off, Bruce ordered, "No one else is to know about this, Clark. That includes Lois and Jason."

Clark didn't like it, but he'd been expecting it. "Okay." Bruce nodded and returned to working. Clark didn't want to leave his friend in such an unhealthy state, but knew Bruce would eventually force him out, one way or another. So he turned to leave. Before he left, though, he turned to Bruce's back, "By the way, Bruce, congratulations on being a father."

Bruce didn't stop typing until after Clark left. He let his fingers stop and his mind wonder for a moment on what Clark said, only to resume again.

He was pleased. With operations now in place he was only missing one final piece of the puzzle. A piece that only Gotham herself could provide. A criminal that worried less about confrontations and consequences and more about being heard, seen, known.