What happened

They walked the grounds at sunset.

Every so often, Bruce glanced to the side. Alfred always looked ahead, chin high, face impassive. The invitations had already been sent: You and a guest are cordially invited to Wayne Manor for a family dinner at 8 o'clock on Friday the 14th of April, 2006. Casual attire only. RSVP.

"You should have told me when you knew."

They'd already been over this. The fact that Bruce pressed the point again - a wholly unnecessary act - only demonstrated his irritation. There was nothing to be gained for it.

"My apologies, Master Bruce."

It was problemmatic for one such as Bruce to find himself in a place where he did not know every detail that went on under his roof. He was used to knowing everything; he depended on it. Apparently, however, Alfred had known about the additional guests living in Wayne Manor, and had chosen to keep it a secret. In further conversation, Bruce discovered that they'd been living there even longer than Bruce himself was aware. And they believed that Bruce had been there much longer than when he woke up in his bedroom, some weeks before.

He was also angry with himself, for not realizing that there had been other people in the house. He had certainly had enough time to figure it out on his own. The amount of time that it took him was unacceptable. Never mind that his guests had tried laying low; it was his home. He should have been aware. Bad things happened when he wasn't aware of everything around him. People got hurt. People died.

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Her roots were showing, and from the look of it they had been for at least a week and change now. But with no one to tell her and everything else that was going on, Max just hadn't noticed. There was definitely a good amount of brown peeking through by this point. She'd noticed accidentally on the way home from school, catching sight of her blurred reflection in the dark partition glass that separated her in the back seat from Alfred driving up front.

Confirmation was needed, as the glass wasn't really a mirror. With a good deal of thumping around in the back, Max finally found a small mirror hidden in one of the compartments. She looked into it, tugging on a piece of hair. It was growing, that was good, but still, brown roots were a bad thing. Roots reminded people that her hair wasn't actually pink.


"Alfred?" Still examining her hair, Max reached over and pressed the little intercom button.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Can we stop by a drugstore?"

"Of course, Miss. Maxine."

"Thanks."

Satisfied, though still feeling the need to cover her head and not let anyone see until it was re-dyed, Max sat back in her seat and waited. She only hoped that this didn't require trips to multiple drug stores. Pink dye and the perfect bleach could be difficult to find in the same place.
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He missed Lucius. There was no one in City United Industries that he trusted to take over the day to day operations of the sections that had once been WayneTech. And he knew because he'd gone through every employee profile and department assessment trying to get to know this new version of the company. It'd left him with little time to do the things he wanted to do, when he wanted to do them. There was a reason Lucius existed in his universe and if he ever got back there, the man was getting a raise.

Tugging at his tie, and gratefully handing his briefcase over to Alfred, Bruce pondered if he wanted to just go upstairs and take a nap before heading out to the real work. He made a mental note to ask Barbara if she'd noticed an increased need to sleep since she'd been here, in the City. He wasn't able to get by on four hours the way he used to. It left him feeling out of touch with his body. Luckily the need hadn't come up too often for him to be awake that long.

"Soup, Master Bruce ?"

Bruce ran a hand through his hair. "I look it, Alfred ?"

"You look like you've just spent hours in talks with Lex Luthor, sir."

Bruce grinned. "Soup it is, Alfred. In my room ?"

"Of course, sir."

Putting his hand on the banister as he headed up, Bruce paused as a shadow flitted across the walls upstairs. It was too lanky to be Tim, and Tim would have been on the landing by now, scolding him like a fishwife for looking tired. The smile that started on his lips faded slightly when the shadow moved again. "Dick ?"

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A few days after her encounter with Jason, Helena had turned things over in her mind. She hadn't yet mentioned it to Barbara. She secretly knew that fact had less to do with the fact that the woman was scarce around the house, than it related to the fact that, well, she felt a need to deliver the message to her Dad-to Bruce-herself.

It was time. She certainly wasn't ready, but then again, she wasn't sure she'd ever be.

But it was time to face him. Maybe even to apologize for some of the things she'd never gotten to apologize for. He wasn't the same person, but maybe on some level, speaking with this version of her father would gain some closure.

And regardless of the fact that the two men were different, he was still a father. He was worried about Jason, and he deserved to hear that the boy was okay, if a little emotionally bruised.

After work, she climbed into the Lexus she'd recently leased and drove to the outskirts of the City, easily finding the manor, as though the roads themselves had led her there. Given the nature of the City, she actually wouldn't be entirely surprised if this was the case. She had not set out with exact directions as to how to get to Wayne Manor herself, and yet had easily found it once she had started driving.
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There was a saying. Better late than never. Death had been around long enough to know that at certain times, it simply wasn't true. But this wasn't one of those times.

From the park, she'd hailed a cab, no longer certain if the button Bruce had given her was on or off. But with only a pair of pennies in her pocket and a single ten-dollar bill, she'd told the driver that he'd be paid at their destination.

Not much time had gone by before the front gate of the Wayne Manor buzzed. "Anyone there?" called a perplexed male voice. "I got this girl, she's saying someone here'll pay her fare?"

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All he wanted was to let someone with more power and knowledge than he had, know that something was wrong. An immortal after a preacher with powers rivaling God's, and mean and cocky enough to steal Death's sigil; Bruce didn't see how he couldn't do his best to get the information out there. This wasn't something he could fight. Mortal strength wasn't what was called for here, but cunning and tactics. And the best tactic was letting the right people know, and keeping Didi as safe was possible.

He kept the thoughts in the forefront of his mind as Alfred adjusted the iv-drip. Precision lucid dreaming. He'd never tried it before, but the theory seemed sound. And even if it ended up being a message in a bottle; that was better than nothing.

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Hair sticking up every which way, shirtless, cotton pajama bottoms barely hanging onto his hips and barefooted, Bruce Wayne wandered into the kitchen early Friday morning, scratching his chest and looking a bit like a lost child in search of a glass of milk.

"Alfred ?"

"Yes, Master Bruce ?" Alfred turned from where he was up to the wrists in pancake and waffle mix. He chuckled. "Late night ?"

"Alfred." Bruce said again, yawning and stretching. "Do we have any apples ?"
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Bruce Wayne wriggled and shimmied his way out of the arms of the woman who was practically humping him in the Wayne Manor driveway. She was not Pepper Saint James. Bruce wasn't quite sure who she was, only that he'd done a good job of appearing mildly drunk all day long and she had managed to be the only one among the group he was with who was sober enough to drive him home.

Somewhere in a very upscale restaurant he would be hard pressed to name; Pepper Saint James was plotting this woman's downfall. And right now Bruce couldn't blame her. He'd even applaud. The woman was a dragon, with the long red nails to match. And her perfume was killing his nose.

He shifted, politely moving her hands away from vulnerable areas of his body, and continued moving away from her. If he hadn't realized how shrewd she was on the drive over, he would have been more forceful. As it was, he was somewhat mildly trapped.

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He'd asked Alfred to drop him off at the park. Which he had. He'd also asked Alfred to go back to the Clocktower and wait on Maxine. But the older man hadn't. Alfred stood now, leaning against the hood of the car, leafing through a recipe magazine. He hadn't asked a question about what had gone on inside, or why the scowl on Bruce's face had been so dark.

Despite himself, his mood, Bruce found himself appreciating the company that was a few yards distant and carefully not paying any attention to him. The sky wasn't exactly clear, but it was bright, sunlight reflected of light grey clouds. Within his coat, he was warm. The signs in the park mentioned a hot house full of botanical wonders. It seemed the sort of thing Bruce Wayne might look in on, so he headed there, slowly, giving himself time to think.

The decision was made even before he was halfway to his destination, as he paused over a line of ants scurrying across the cement walkway. Bruce hovered his foot over them, weighing their fate. Their deaths.

"Are you near ?"

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Who: Max and Bruce
When: Yesterday afternoon/evening
Where: WayneTech

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Master Bruce!"

"They lied to me, Alfred." It wasn't Batman's deep rumble. The demon voice of that which haunted Gotham's criminals in the night. But it wasn't exactly Bruce Wayne's either. At least not the public Bruce Wayne.

The cowl was pulled violently off, and then the gloves and Bruce strode back and forth along the open platform where the suits were kept in this new Batcave, shaking with fury.

"They knowingly lied." He paused and looked up. "And maybe you did too."

"Before you accuse me sir, and punish me accordingly." There was the merest hint of parental laughter in Alfred's tone. "You should at least explain the accusation."

"Jason. Jason Peter Todd." He watched Alfred carefully. But the lack of reaction from the other man, the hint of concern for him, it was too obvious that Alfred hadn't known.

"The second Robin. He died. Tim knows. Babara knows. They kept it from me."

"How did you find out, sir ?" Alfred asked, picking up cape and gloves and calmly putting them away.

"I met him tonight."

"Ahh I see..."

Bruce stopped and turned. "We both saw his grave. He's in my family plot."

"I'll get the brandy. sir." He moved swiftly to a corner console, tapped on it, and swiveled out a bar. Bruce would have commented, but he was too tense. And besides, Alfred had been here when he arrived. Whether or not Alfred was from the same dimension as the cave, he likely had time enough to explore it.

"Young Master Todd is not with you. He.. ?"

"He ran."

"Not many of us can face Death the way you do, Master Bruce. And the specter of our own... How young is the lad?"

Bruce looked down at the sniffer being placed into his hands and sank into the nearest seat. He didn't usually drink. It wasn't how he handled things. But a half glass of brandy would have less effect on him than sleeping pills. And the Alfred from his world would have used those in circumstances like these; assuring a night of good rest.

"Sixteen. Seventeen. For a moment I thought he was Richard." Bruce ran a hand through his hair, knuckles white. "The grave was beside my father's, on the side of the sword. He died in costume." It was telling feature only he would understand. It was the reason he'd known instantly that the Joker was responsible. That Jason had died of his injuries.

"How could I have let Tim exist after something like that ?"

Alfred pulled up a chair. "After spending these last few days with Master Tim, I can only conclude that you were given no option. He's hidden his own trauma well. But his concern for you is more than evident." A small smile graced the butler's lips. "I've had to remind him at least twice that you're young enough and in good enough shape to have a little cream sauce with dinner."

Bruce frown, looking puzzled and confused. There was a future where a teenage boy was monitoring his dietary habits ? He sipped from the glass, the liquid burning mildly as it went down. Barbara was only a short call away. But she'd mislead him, shielded him.

And Jason; impetuous, undisciplined, impatient. What he briefly remembered of his moves showed none of Dick's grace. None of Tim's disciplined balance and self aware style. Just, fists and fury.

What had happened ? With Dick ? With Tim ?

"I need to find him, Alfred."

"Going back out tonight would be unwise..."

"No. I need to find him." He tapped the insignia on his chest. "This let him down. I won't."

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Open To: Alfred, Tim, Bruce
Timing: Sometime/day after this

"Time to awaken, Master Tim." Alfred pulled back the drapes with a flourish, letting sunshine glow it's way through opaque white curtains. On the nightstand was a tray of tea and toast and scrambled eggs. "There's been quite enough hiding away in your room young man. There are things to be done and I've already awakened Master Bruce."

Alfred's crisp clean white shirt, dark waistcoat and tie seemed to mock everything disorderly and and confused. He pulled back a second set of draperies and glanced back only once.

"Those covers will be next to go, young Master. It's half past ten, quite late in the day already for those not currently engaged in other night-time pursuits."

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Cleansing of the clocktower had begun, but without Bruce and Tim dropping by Babs wasn't rushing. She would have all of Christmas break to get her things moved in and possibly after tonight, someone to help her. She was taking the optimistic aproach to her meeting with Bruce. Sometimes she could just never tell what the man's mood was, and while that was an excellent quality for Batman to have, it wasn't a wonderful one for Bruce. She knew she should be prepared for the worst, but Babs was being stubborn.

Babs found the manor easily by just focusing on it as Bruce had recommended and up the long driveway at exactly 6:55. She exited the car carrying only her laptop in a shoulder bag; it was her personal laptop, the one devoted to her night-job. She'd figured that on an evening like this is could only come in handy.

There were no stairs (one potentially embarrassing situation avoided) so Babs made her way easily up to the front door and reached up to ring the door bell. Alfred would come running... if Alfred was still around, that was.

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