Of course, Alfred had known what was going on. But he hadn’t intervened to protest the boy’s behavior. It was as if he’d sensed that Bruce would need a clean bill of health one day. As if he’d known the boy would need to fade into the background, bland and uninteresting, so someone else could emerge and never be linked to him.
Before the eyes of the adult Bruce, the flock of geese vanished past the treetops. He sighed. Alfred . . .
Suddenly, he heard a harrumph. It had come from the vicinity of the stairs. By the look on his face, Dick had heard it, too.
Rousing Barbara, practically lifting her off the couch, Bruce and Dick made for the hallway. But before they could get there, they saw someone walking toward them from the other direction.
Two someones, actually. As Bruce watched, a lump taking hold in his throat, he saw that one of them was Alfred. The other was Doc Simpson, holding Alfred’s arm for support. But mostly it was the old butler, scowling as he went, who was doing the work of transporting himself.
Simpson let go of the man, and Alfred took the last few steps into the room by himself. And there was some color in his face, by God. He looked as if he’d gotten some of his old strength back.
Barbara blinked at the sight of her uncle. She peered at him with disbelieving eyes. Dick was staring, too, not daring to ask the question to which they all wanted to know the answer.
In the end, it was Bruce who asked it. Sort of.
“Alfred,” he said, despite the tightness in his throat. “Are you . . . ?”
The butler’s scowl deepened. “Rather disappointed at how poorly I seem to have taught you proper housekeeping?” He glanced disapprovingly around the room. “Why, yes, I am.”
Alfred allowed himself a bit of a smile. “And quite well, it seems. Thanks to you, Master Bruce. Thanks to you all.”
Bruce went over to him. So did Dick and Barbara. One by one, they hugged the man who was at the center of their family. The man who held it all together for them.
“Well,” said Simpson, “I ought to be going now. But I’ll stop by later to check in.” He paused for a moment to shake his head. “I don’t know where Wayne Industries had to go to get that antigen, Bruce—or who you got it from. But it’s going to save a lot of people a lot of misery.”
The billionaire smiled. “When administered by dedicated and caring physicians. Thanks for all your help, Doctor.”
Nodding, Simpson left. Alfred moved a pizza carton with thinly veiled repugnance and sat on the couch where Barbara had been sleeping. He eyed his niece with curiosity.
“You know,” he told her, “I had the most remarkable dream while I was convalescing. I dreamed that while I was asleep, you had hacked your way into the disc I specifically forbade you to look at.”
Barbara flushed. “Er . . . right. Well, you see, I—”
“And that’s not all,” Alfred said. “I dreamed that you took that proprietary knowledge and used it to create a suit. A Batsuit, of all things. And then you used your new autumn apparel to go after Poison Ivy.” He chuckled. “It’s amazing how foolish you can be when you’re dreaming.”
Barbara swallowed. “You overheard us talking, didn’t you? When we thought you were still asleep?”
Dick grunted. “Nothing gets past good ol’ Al. Nothing.”
Bruce moved the pizza box a little farther along the length of the couch and sat beside Alfred. “Welcome back,” he told his friend.
“It’s good to be back,” said Alfred.
Dick pointed at Bruce. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something. When Barbara . . . er, Batgirl and I rolled off the telescope, you didn’t try to save us.” He tilted his head. “How come? It was the first time I ever fell and you weren’t there to catch me.”
Bruce shrugged. “I knew you could handle it,” he said easily.
“You did?” Barbara asked.
Dick shot her a look. She noticed it.
“I mean,” she added quickly, “of course you did.”
“Sometimes,” said Bruce, “counting on someone else is the only way to win.” He winked at Dick. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”
Barbara appeared indignant suddenly. “Hey, I’m the one who kicked Ivy’s botanical butt. Personally. Me. I did.”
Bruce looked at her askance. “Yes, you did,” he agreed. “And you’ll have plenty of time to savor the experience back at school.”
She stared at him. “School? After all we’ve been through together, you’d send me back to that place?”
Dick rolled his eyes. “Give up, Bruce. This is one argument you’re never going to win.” He glanced at Alfred. “You either, Al.”
Barbara clapped Dick on the shoulder. “I knew there was a reason I saved you from certain death.”
Dick turned to her. “You saved me?”
She nodded. “As I recall, yes.”
He thought about it for a moment. “Maybe you did at that.”
Barbara extended her hand. “Partners?”
Robin clasped her offering. “Partners,” he confirmed. Then the two of them turned to Bruce.
He stood, sighed, and enveloped both their hands in his own. Why fight the inevitable? he thought. “Partners.”
Alfred smiled from his place on the couch. “I do believe we’re going to need a bigger cave.”
“You can worry about that later,” said Bruce. “Right now, you need to get some rest.”
Alfred held up his hand. “If it’s all right with you, sir, I’d like to stay right here. I’ve had enough bed rest to last me a lifetime.”
“Hey, look,” said Barbara, facing the windows that looked toward Gotham. She pointed to the sky. “The Bat-Signal.”
Bruce turned and saw it emblazoned on the blanket of clouds. They appeared to have thickened and darkened over the last few minutes, as if gathering for some mighty outburst.
A storm coming, he thought. In Gotham, it seemed, there was always a storm coming. But this time, he wouldn’t have to weather it alone.
He took some comfort in that as he headed for the grandfather clock that led down to the Batcave . . . with Dick and Barbara close on his heels.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MICHAEL JAN FRIEDMAN, a New York Times bestselling author, has written twenty-two novels over the course of his career, including fifteen Star Trek and Star Trek: The Next Generation books. Friedman has also written more than 150 comic books, most of them for DC Comics.
His most prominent work to date is Reunion, the first Star Trek: The Next Generation hardcover. In 1991 Reunion was included by the New York City Library system on its recommended reading list. Friedman has been profiled by the New York Times, Newsday, CBS radio, and various television stations in the United States as well as by science fiction magazines around the world. He lives on Long Island with his wife and two sons.
Table of Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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