A Gotham Christmas, part one - Alfred.

It shouldn't have been so easy to get into Wayne Manor. Even with Bruce and the new kid out in the field, I shouldn't have been able to get to the kitchen door without setting off a dozen alarms. But there was Alfred, standing at the sink and looking out over the snow-spotted lawn. Exactly the way I remembered him.

I should have made myself known at that point. I should have coughed or something to let him know I was there but I didn’t. I couldn't.

Part of me was angry; furious Bruce would leave Alfred so unprotected. No-one, no-one should be able to get so close to Alfred, Bruce's most trusted adviser, the only father he or any of us had know since we lost our own. I didn't want to greet him for the first time in five years with that anger in my heart.

That, and I was afraid. Bruce's wrath I could weather, Dick's indignation, even the new kid's cockiness (if what I've heard through the grapevine is true) but Alfred's disappointment - that would kill me. So somehow it was better just to stand there and watch him as he dried the last of the dishes, lost in thought.

He spotted me, just as I was about to chicken out and go find Bruce first. "Ja... Master Jason? Is that-"

He stepped to me, all but dropping the teacup in his hand. Those hands; paper dry but strong, so strong. They were shaking and I couldn't bear that. I moved to meet him before I realised what I was doing, cupping him hands and gently taking the teacup from him.

He looked up at me, looking me in the face as I entered the warm yellow light of the kitchen.

Up. That shook me. I was not quite 16 when I died, and short of my age. And Alfred was always so tall and lean. But now he looked up at me as I stood nearly two inches taller than the man I called grandfather in my heart.

"Oh my dear boy. Let me look at you." With a touch of those strong, paper thin hands, he had me inside before I knew what I was doing. "It's been so long." He touched my cheek, my jaw, brushing back my over-long hair. "We heard rumours, Miss Selina but-" he kept touching me; my shoulders, the leather of my jacket, the wear of the sleeves as if needing to reassure himself I was real. "I wanted to believe it, after what happened to your grave but I didn't dare hope . That you might come home to us."

He hugged me tightly and I tensed - caught between desire and despair. I wanted this. So badly. The smell and feel of Alfred holding me, the welcoming warmth of the kitchen.

But I wasn't home. It could never be that simple. "I haven't... I can't..." It hurt to speak, knowing there was a shake in my voice and tears welling. "This isn't my home, not anymore."

"Master Jason!"

There it was; the sharpness that could turn my gut to ice.

"Master Jason, this is your home. This will always be your home. No matter what has happened, no matter what passed to keep you from us all this time, no matter what you’ve done; you are still a son of this house and there will always be a place for you here."

I felt the anger swell in my chest again, pushing out all other feelings. “No matter what I've done?"

He scowled. "That is a matter for you and Master Bruce, not for you and I." There was a little gesture of his hand, one I have all but forgot but it meant the argument was over and he would say no more. I have seen him silence the entire Justice League with that gesture.

I stood and watched as he made a new pot of tea, the long familiar ritual as he gathered himself.

"Sit, my boy. Let me make you something to eat and you can tell me... anything you're ready to tell me about what's happened to you over the last few years."

I can't help but wonder if he put something in my tea or if it was just Alfred's warmth and kindness that got me talking. I told him everything - the fight out of my own grave, the emptiness of my broken mind, Talia and the healing embrace of the Lazarus Pit.

I spoke, without hesitation or regret of my service to the League of Shadow, of my training with the All Caste. Of Africa and Ali.

He never interrupted or discouraged me, or showed any sign of disappointment at the choices I had made. I could have talked until dawn and he would have let me. I would have told him about Milliways and my life there but the cave alert sounded.

Batman was back.

I couldn't stay, even if he had begged me to. I wasn't ready. My heart was too raw, too open. I couldn't face Bruce like this.

"At least tell me you have somewhere to stay?" He called after me. I was already headed for the door and the silent garden behind.

"I'll look after myself. I always have." It was a half a lie and he knew it. I've survived. Over and over I have survived. But he was the one who looked after me. Alone I survived but with him I have lived.

And no matter what happens now, between the Batman and his fallen son, I'll never forget that. Alfred still cared, would forgive my past and welcome me home. Even if it was only a soap-bubble of a dream, it was still on I would hang on to.



[Part Two]