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“I could help.” Richard has been listening, lurking in the back of the room. Now, the two men notice him for the first time, looking up from their plans.
The two voices sound at the same time.
“No,” from Alfred.
“Maybe,” from Bruce.
Alfred shakes his head. “You can’t. He’s—a kid.”
“I need a kid,” Bruce says. “He’d be with me the whole time.”
“I—won’t be part of it.” Alfred walks off, leaving them alone in the room.
Bruce meets the boy’s eyes. “Come here, Richard. Let’s talk through it.” He’s not sure he's ever seen the kid smile so broadly before.
-
It’s not until they’re almost in, their car driving up to the parking garage, that Bruce feels it. Suddenly, looking over at the boy, he’s seized by an intense irrational fear.
What if something goes wrong? What if someone at the party is out to get him? What if things go south, and he can’t stop it?
Richard is his responsibility, his ward, his kid. He shouldn’t have done this. His heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest.
“Rich,” he says, trying to moderate his voice tone, “when we get in there, you do exactly what I showed you. If anything happens, you follow my lead. You don’t do anything on your own. Do you understand me?”
The boy is calm. His eyes are trusting. “Yes, Mr. Wayne.”
“Bruce.”
He’s tempted to tell the boy to stay put, but he’s in a bind now. He’s got to take him, or the patrons will know something is up. He takes deep breaths that are supposed to be calming, but all he can think about is picturing every way something could go wrong, every way the boy could get hurt.
He finally understands Alfred.
—-
“I’m—sorry.”
“Are you really?” Alfred shakes his head, surveying his teenaged charge.
“No,” Bruce admits. “Are you grounding me?”
Alfred shrugs. “If I do, will you stop?”
The boy takes a longer time to respond to this. “No.”
Alfred almost smiles. Whatever his failings, you can’t fault Bruce Wayne for honesty. He turns away.
“I have no idea what to do with you. Get some sleep.” He can feel his shoulders slumping, like he’s gained 20 years all of a sudden. Finding Bruce climbing back in through the window after being who-knows-where had already aged him a decade. Trying to talk to Bruce and feeling like he’s punching concrete has added another.
—
Alfred doesn’t see what happens behind him, the horrified look on the boy’s face. He may want to be a man, but he’s still a kid. He looks like somebody punched him in the solar plexus.
He turns to go back down the hall, tears stinging his eyes as he tries to rub them away and tell himself he’s not crying.
—-
The night goes off without a hitch. Richard is poised and collected, posing by Bruce’s side like the orphan poster child he’s meant to portray. Exactly as they planned, Bruce gains access to the inner office during the most chaotic part of the evening. He snaps pictures of relevant documents, while Richard stands off to the side, quiet and not touching anything.
Bruce’s heart rate doesn’t go back to normal until they’re back in the car. “You did a good job, kid,” he says, putting a warm hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“You, too,” Richard says, smiling. “Mr. Wayne—” He turns intense eyes onto his guardian.
“Bruce.”
“Should I say sorry to Alfred? He seemed—mad.”
Bruce shakes his head. “He’s not mad at you, son. He’ll be fine since you’re fine. The other stuff—I’ll take care of.”
“Ok.” Richard sits back and closes his eyes.
Bruce is still not used to the level of trust the boy places in him. It feels too big and too fragile, like a crystal vase that could shatter any minute.
—-
“Thought you were letting Marjorie drive you into town today?” Alfred is in Bruce’s doorway, eyebrow raised. “Are you feeling well?”
Bruce nods. “I’m grounded, Alfred.”
“Oh, are you?” Alfred glides across the room and sits on the end of the bed where his charge is reclining. “What for?”
Bruce doesn’t meet his eyes. “I—snuck out. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Too right.”
“Alfred, I—”
“Yes?”
“I’ll try to do better.”
“That’s all I ask.” Alfred reaches over and moves the unruly hair off Bruce’s forehead.
Maybe it’s as possible to lose 20 years in an instant as it is to gain them. Alfred feels a metric ton lighter as he gets up to leave the room.
“Three days.” Alfred looks back.
“What?” Bruce’s eyes follow him calmly.
“Grounded.”
“I was going to do a week. Wanted to show you I meant it.”
Alfred smiles. “I believe you. Just—try to stay out of trouble.”
—-
As soon as they get back to the Manor, Bruce sends Richard to bed before going to Alfred’s room. He knows the butler won’t be asleep. He knocks politely, loosening his tie while Alfred pads across the room to let him in.
As soon as the door opens, Bruce dives into the arms of a very shocked Alfred, who nevertheless gets the idea quickly and discards his cane so he can envelop as much of his charge as he can reach.
“What’s this about?” he asks, enjoying the unexpected embrace but worried about its meaning. Bruce rarely initiates hugs. While he can, Alfred caresses the taller man, feeling his charge’s body relax in his hold.
“Thanks, Alfred,” he mumbles, head on the butler’s shoulder. “I get it now.”
“Get what, Master Bruce?”
Bruce pulls away slightly, but it’s clear he still wants to be in contact, so Alfred leaves his hand on the back of his neck. He hopes it’s reassuring.
“Tonight—was perfect,” Bruce continues, “but it was the most scared I’ve ever been.”
“Richard,” Alfred says, understanding what hasn’t been said.
“Look—I’m sorry for—all the times I’ve worried you. I actually mean it this time.”
“It’s all right,” Alfred says. “Not easy, but all right. You were always worth the worry.”
He pulls Bruce back into his embrace. It’s more than he’s gotten in years, and he’s going to take advantage of his charge’s temporary receptivity. This time, Bruce’s arms around him feel stronger.
“I love you, Alfred.”
The butler freezes for a moment, wondering if he hallucinated.
“I love you, too, Bruce. Don’t forget it.”
-
Richard watches the exchange from the dark hallway, just past the open door. He wants to talk to Alfred, too, but he waits his turn. People online say that Mr. Wayne is scary, reclusive, unapproachable, but they don’t know the truth.
“I know you’re out there, kid. Come in.”
His guardian’s soft voice pulls him toward the door, and Bruce holds out an arm. “You’re part of this, too.”
Richard doesn’t mind being hugged by the two odd men whose house he inhabits. He doesn’t mind when Alfred scolds him for agreeing to go with Bruce, unable to keep the pride out of his voice, and he definitely doesn’t mind when they sit down and Bruce talks about how great he did.
They are nothing like his first family, but maybe they could be some kind of family.
“You were supposed to be in bed,” Bruce scolds on the way out of Alfred’s room.
“So were you,” Richard shoots back. Bruce puts an arm around him, leading him all the way back to his room.