“He’s still resting,” he replied, swallowing the guilt that kept rising in him. “I’m waiting for them to let me see him.”
Harvey leaned forward in his chair and lowered his voice. “Sorry,” he said, patting Bruce again on his shoulder. “They’re going to catch them. I’m willing to bet on it. They won’t get away with this. Watch—by nightfall, the boss will be on the news, behind bars.”
Dianne shook her head. “Did you really fend off three Nightwalkers on your own, and keep them from hurting Alfred?”
“It all happened so fast,” Bruce replied. Even if it was true, he didn’t feel much like a hero. “The Nightwalkers have a hit list, apparently, and I’m on it.”
“What?”Dianne and Harvey replied in unison.
“Bruce.”
The conversation paused as they all looked up to see Lucius hurrying into the waiting room. He clasped Bruce’s hand in a firm shake and pulled him up for a quick hug. “You’re safe, thank everything above. And Alfred?”
“Is going to make a full recovery,” Bruce replied.
Lucius shook his head at Bruce in awe. “Heard you were quite a force against the Nightwalkers,” he said, “but it’d be nice if we could keep you out of any more dangerous situations in the near future. You don’t have to attend the gala tonight—you don’t have to do anything. Just rest. Trust me, no one will be shocked if you decide it’s safer to stay away. Your life was—”
“I’ll be fine, Lucius, thank you.” Bruce gave him a firm nod. “I’ll be as safe at the gala as I will be anywhere else, and it’ll be a good distraction. Our drones will all be there, won’t they?”
Lucius managed a smile. “Yes, they will,” he replied.
A doctor approached and interrupted their conversation. “Mr. Pennyworth is awake now,” she said. “His vital signs are all good, and you can take him home tonight.”
All other thoughts flew from Bruce’s mind. He jumped to his feet. “Can I see him now?”
The doctor nodded. “For a bit, Mr. Wayne. But don’t overdo it. He should rest some more later.”
Bruce excused himself and followed the doctor down the hall, then stepped through the door that she held open for him. Inside, Alfred sat up straighter in his bed. Bruce had always considered him to be strong and invincible, kind and fair—but now, for the first time, he also seemedold,his gray hairs more noticeable than ever. Mortal. Bruce didn’t like the thought.
“Master Wayne,” Alfred said, his usually strong, deep voice now somewhat hoarse. A large bandage covered the top of his head.
Bruce hurried to Alfred’s side, took the man’s hand, and squeezed it. “How are you feeling?” he said. “They told me they stitched the cut on your forehead.”
Alfred waved a nonchalant hand in the air. “Oh, I’ll be better than fine,” he replied. “This is merely a scratch compared with what I put up with in the military. The Nightwalkers will have to do better than that—although not before the police catch up with them.”
Bruce felt an enormous weight lift from his chest at Alfred’s upbeat words. His shoulders relaxed, and he dropped into the chair at Alfred’s bedside, letting his head sink into his hands. “I’m sorry, Alfred,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I thought I’d lost you.” All those times Bruce had let Alfred worry about him—driving too fast, chasing after a criminal on a whim, putting his life on the line over and over—and yet, none of that had frightened him as much as the realization that Alfred could have died today. How many times had Bruce inflicted the same fear on his guardian?
Alfred’s eyes softened at Bruce’s bowed head. “Steady chin, Master Wayne,” he replied. “I’m right here, and aside from a bump on the head, I’m feeling rather fine. You are a man now, albeit a young one who somehow manages to find trouble…but you’ll always be my ward, and I will always look out for you. Just as you’ll do for me.”
Bruce met his eyes. He remembered this look, and even though ten years had passed since the night in the alley, it was still the look that could calm Bruce in the darkest moments. Bruce nodded, trying not to imagine life without him.
Alfred smiled. “We make a good team, Master Wayne,” he said. “Especially with those punches you throw.”
Alfred’s familiar humor loosened the knot in Bruce’s stomach. He reached over to clap his guardian once on his shoulder. “Not too shabby yourself, Alfred.”
Alfred gave him a wink. Then his expression turned serious. “The Nightwalkers pegged you as one of their targets. You are similar to Madeleine’s former targets, too, aren’t you?”
“How did you know that?”
“You don’t think I researched this girl you keep mentioning?” He leaned forward with a grimace. “She’s dangerous.”
Bruce nodded, then frowned. “I know. And I can’t understand any of it.” He lowered his voice. “Alfred—she warned me. That last conversation I had with her? She spent it telling me to get out of Gotham City, that I might be next on the Nightwalkers’ list. Sheknewthis was going to happen, and she wanted me to know.”
Alfred narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps she set it all up as a trap.”
The door behind Bruce opened then, and Draccon stepped into the room. The detective sported a nasty bruised eye, and one of her arms was in a sling. A wave of relief washed over Bruce at the sight of her, and he half rose from his chair to greet her. “Detective,” he said. “You’re—”
She smiled warily at him, but she didn’t move from the door, and Bruce’s reply faded on his tongue. “Detective?” Bruce said again, hesitant this time.
