A/N Hello all! For those joining me for the first time...welcome! Hope you enjoy the ride. However, before you read this one, you should start from the beginning at "Interrogation Tactics." Each story works together in order.

For those following since then, this story picks up after Chapter 31 of Home, Hearts, and Heroes. I encourage you to read that first to get you into this one. But you don't have to. Either way...enjoy!

D. Nox :-)

Hera - Queen of the gods and the goddess of women, family, and marriage. She was Goddess of the sky and starry heavens.

Intro - The XX (Instrumental)

"Grow your traditions to your heart's desires."
Home, Hearts, and Heroes - Book 7: Home Ch. 4: A Place Called Home

A few decades ago...
"Thank you for letting me stay longer, but are you sure you want me this close to your family? I'm a wanted man in the wrong circles. I could be bringing danger to your doorstep."

"Nonsense, AP. You're a part of this family now. We're not going to throw you out there to be captured. You're staying here until it all blows over. The CIA has Agent Trevor keeping an eye on things, they'll contact your agency when it's safe for you to return to the field."

Thomas Wayne paced the room, dressed in clean scrubs from the hospital. They occupied a library filled with old, musty books, a marble bust of some prominent philosopher, and an antique grandfather clock. A shaft of light filtered into the room, the morning sun shone through the clouds. A long shadow cast across plush carpeting.

Alfred sat on the window sill, inspecting the manor's grounds. He felt that the house was over exposed, so he made mental notes of how to enhance the property's security. He regarded his friend; Thomas held his son with one arm, tummy down, the infant's head struggling to stay up as drool fell from his smiling lips.

"Besides," Thomas continued, "I think Bruce remembers you, and you seem to enjoy handling children."

"It's because I actually like them," Alfred said.

"You sure you didn't have any while out on assignments?"

"Of course not! Well… not that I know of. No one have come forward with any."

"How could they? You disappear too thoroughly to be found. You could have a few of these and not know it."

"You act as if I had a woman at every port of call."

"You did."

"Well...can't help if they're powerless against a gentleman's manners. You damned Americans barrel through with your loud music and jerky dancing, they'll melt in the arms of a man who can romance them with a slow Tango step."

"Same old Alfred. Using your sophisticated ways to make the women fall into your arms. I remember that one who thought you were as rich as me. She almost walked away until you charmed her back."

"It takes more than money to make a man, you know that, Thomas. It doesn't cost anything to speak with confidence, show good manners, and compliment a woman sincerely." He gave his friend a sidelong glance. "It also helps to remember her name."

Thomas stopped his pacing and stood in front of Alfred, bouncing slightly to keep his son appeased. A mischievous glint sparkled in the father's eyes.

"London," Thomas said.

"Gwendolyn." Alfred countered, smiling.

"Hong Kong."

"Mei Huan."

"Cairo."

"Amina."

"Tokyo."

Alfred gave a quirky smile. "Natasumi."

"Moscow"

Alfred's eyes twinkled. "Hehehe...Natasha," he growled.

Thomas took a step forward in challenge. "Rio."

"Gabriela," Alfred said thoughtfully. Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Or was that Lucia." Alfred received another pointed look. "Maria?"

"Are you sure?"

"It depends on which name she went by at the time. But I loved all of them. Really."

"Not like...Paris."

Alfred leaned back and sighed. "Mademoiselle Marie."

"You met your match with her. If she's stuck around longer, you might have had one of these." Thomas raised Bruce higher in his arms.

"I wouldn't have minded, if she hadn't been working for… never mind. That is all water under the bridge. Besides, I had other things to worry about."

"Yeah, like staying alive. I'm glad I was the one that worked on you. I'm accustomed to getting some pretty banged up patients, but for once, it wasn't a criminal. I'm actually surprised you survived that many bullet wounds. Then I get a visit from your agency. Just by treating you, I get looped into your world."

"You know you needed it. You were squandering your talent and your name on partying and such nonsense. I have no idea how you got through medical school. You were a right mess."

"Not so much that I couldn't find an awesome wife and have such a fine son. I had to be doing something right."

"I still think Martha's off her rocker for marrying you. You're the surgeon, you have access to drugs. What did you use on her?"

"I didn't have to drug her. I simply let the Wayne charm shine through and she was rendered powerless…"

"After I helped clean you up, put on some proper clothes, and coach you on how to talk to her. 'Hey, toots' wasn't a great way of starting a conversation."

"I never used the word 'toots'. I had more class than that." Pregnant pause. "I called her 'babe'."

"Right. That was more endearing." Alfred sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thomas, Bruce is not a rugby ball. Why are you holding him like one?"

The father looked down at his baby boy. "For one thing, it's called football in the States. And holding him this way guarantees he won't puke on my clothes." Thomas patted the boy's dark blue pajama covered bottom.

"Keep holding him like that, he'll throw up no matter what. I don't see why you care, you're still wearing your hospital scrubs. Those were made for messes. Give him to me." Alfred took the baby from his friend. Grabbing a rag from the table, he covered his shoulder and brought Bruce up to his chest.

"Oh my, you're still a heavy fella, aren't you? Solid, just like when you were born." Alfred bounced the baby a few times to gauge his weight. "Do you remember me? I'm Alfred. I held you when you were just a wee thing. I gave you your name." Bruce immediately reached for the man's nose. "Ah ah ah. Not with those sticky hands, Master Bruce. Cleanliness! Very important. It's next to godliness." He reached for a wet nap and proceeded to clean the boy's fingers.

"How long do you think it will take to clean up your messes?" Thomas asked.

Alfred grimaced. "I was so thorough, they may never get clean. But I stopped a few wars, so it was worth it."

"Unfortunately, only a few in our governments will know. You're a hero, AP. Wish we could acknowledge that."

"Don't need it, don't want it. Heroes get paraded around and put on pedestals. Everyone is so busy with worshiping them, they can't get back to what it was that made them heroes in the first place. I want to return to the field as soon as I can."

"Well, in the meantime, you can help us get this household into shape. Bruce keeps his mother up all hours of the night. Why can't this boy just go to sleep!"

"He keeps shock trauma hours, like his father. See, already a chip off the old block." Alfred bounced Bruce in his arms. "You'll become a doctor like your Da, but I'll teach you how to be a gentleman." The baby proceeded to reach for his hair. "Nope. Don't go for that. I'm already losing too much. Got to keep what I have."

"So...um...this is simply a formality, but I need this to make your stay legitimate." Thomas reached into his back pocket and took out a tube of rolled paper. "Your fake visa is going to expire, and unless we get you under our roof, that'll alert immigration and have them looking for you."

Alfred sighed dramatically, then reached for the papers. "Are you sure this is the only position you can offer me? Can't you get me something at your company. I'm more suited for executive work than house chores."

"But you're so good at doing laundry," Thomas retorted. Alfred frowned. "I don't have any hiring control over at Wayne Enterprises, only the majority of stock shares. Besides, that's a high-profile company, it'll be easier to find you there. No one in the States answered my ad for a butler, so I'm allowed to open it up to anyone from outside the country. I simply made some changes so it'll guarantee your stay."

"'Services will be on contract for an indeterminable time'," Alfred read out loud. "Sounds like indentured servitude."

"You're allowed to leave anytime you want. Until then, you'll be considered our assistant and house manager. You've pretty much done that ever since you moved in anyways. Martha loves that she doesn't have to think about the minutiae of running the Manor and can take care of Bruce full-time."

"I can't help but see the details. It's a part of my training."

"And you cook a delicious meal. What part of your training taught you how to be a gourmet chef?"

"It was a great cover when guarding royalty. It also made it easier to infiltrate a paranoid dictator's compound. He might have been a psychotic maniac, but he hired readily for good food. Unbeknownst to him, I know how to hide poison without it being obvious. Patience and small, undetectable amounts."

"I'm so glad we're friends," Thomas retorted facetiously. Alfred lifted Bruce higher in his arms and rubbed his cheek in his baby hair. The infant began sucking his thumb. "You ate the same things, or did you fix your meals separate?"

"No, I wasn't allowed to," Alfred murmured.

"So you took in the same amount of poison as the dictator. That's dedication for you."

"I went through the excruciatingly painful process that inoculated me to the poison. It takes hold gradually, and it looks like a natural sickness. It wasn't hard to fake it. Sniffing pepper and cutting onions gave me the same symptoms they had."

"They?"

"I had to eat with the dictator and his family to make sure the food was safe. I had no choice."

"Family? So … there were children involved?"

The silence after hung heavily in the air. Alfred began rubbing Bruce's back in small comforting circles, his eyes holding a haunted look.

"The family went down around the same time. The tyrannical wife was the first to go. She loved my cooking the most. I gave the little ones something to ease their tummy aches. They went to sleep...peacefully. They never woke up.

"The dictator was on to me by the time the rest had passed," Alfred continued. "I had to finish the job with my bare hands. He was bigger than me, but the poison weakened him. I arranged the family so the guards would think they were taking an afternoon nap; they did that often. Then I used the excuse of going to the market to make my escape."

"My god, AP," Thomas gasped.

"I'm not a hero. I can't be." Alfred snuggled the baby closer to his chest. "It's also why I can't have one of these, practically and possibly...physically." He looked into Thomas' eyes. "Consider this full disclosure. Are you sure you still want to employ me?"

"Those children. Did you care for them?"

"Yes, very much."

"Was there any way you could have saved them?"

Silence. "No."

"What would have happened if you didn't go through with it?"

"Remember the Cuban Missile Crisis?" Thomas nodded. "A skirmish compared to what this fiend was up to."

Thomas stepped away and ran his fingers through his dark hair. He let go with a frustrated sigh. "No simple black and white. Just muddy shades of grey."

"I'm loyal, Thomas. You needn't worry about that. I'll give the same dedication to you and your family as I've given my Queen and oath of service. I'll eat this cyanide capsule in my molar before I hurt you, Martha, or this precious boy."

"First of all, no one gets close to my family if I thought there was any intention of hurting them. I might have taken the Hippocratic Oath, but I'll conveniently forget it if I have to. Secondly, I do trust you. I don't condone your actions, but you saved millions of children by sacrificing a few. That'll live on your conscience for the rest of your life. I can tell you're burning for it. No need for me to judge you, too.

"And you're going to get rid of that cyanide capsule," Thomas growled. He pointed a finger at his friend. "I don't want that hanging around my home. If you're going to take care of my family, you will do so without that convenient exit. I can't carry the thought of you bailing out when we need you the most."

"You act as if you have enemies around every corner, too."

"The Wayne name is among the most powerful in Gotham, Alfred. We've been approached by some unsavory types for our support. Martha's fended them off with her usual grace, but I don't want her putting herself in the line of danger. You'll help me filter through those who want to come to her for favors."

"Do they simply knock on your door and expect to come in?"

"It has happened, though most of the time they'll call first. Martha used her pregnancy to fend them off. Now they're using Bruce as an excuse to come through."

"Give me their names and I'll run security checks on them. I'll also greet them at the door and make sure they're safe. It works if you give me a butler's uniform. That usually gets them to forget I'm even there."

"I'll have one made for you. We host parties here for Martha's fundraising and schmoozing efforts. You can tag them there. Having a 'Jeeves' type would make us look good, too."

"Then I'll have to prepare your tuxedo to perfection to make it seem you actually deserve me."

"I see you're not going to let us take advantage of you."

"Oh, you can expect to receive my best during my stay here. That'll include getting my shining personality."

"Oh joy," Thomas droned.

Decades later...a few days ago...
Alfred finished his labor with a decisive wipe. He had just laid out Bruce's suit on the bed, and a pair of black shoes shone with a new coat of polish. His own butler's uniform hanged in his closet, and he would have a few minutes to don his clothing in a proper manner before their guests arrived.

He wasn't particularly fond of this type of gathering, but they were a necessary evil to maintain Bruce's image among Gotham's élite. Wayne Manor hosted occasional dinner parties to schmooze local socialites or influential business partners to keep his reputation intact. If Bruce had his way, he would have been a reclusive hermit plotting his next strategy for protecting his city.

Yet, for some reason, they kept pestering Bruce to host the gatherings from his home. He relented, but limited his guests to a scant few. Alfred did background checks on all of them, reducing that list even more. The butler made sure to keep this party to business. Bruce can arrange his own pleasurable company.

Alfred stepped down the stairs and shuffled into the kitchen. There he found Bruce pacing the area while reading a data pad, barefoot and dressed in workout clothes of black tee-shirt and running pants. He barely acknowledged Alfred's presence as he picked up a canapé and ate it in one bite.

"Master Bruce, those are for the guests. If you're hungry, I can fix a sandwich to hold you over."

"That's okay, Alfred. I'm fine. Finish what you're doing so we can get this done."

"Very well, sir. You should get cleaned up. The party will be starting in a few hours."

"I will. I need to read this first." Bruce continued to pace around the kitchen island. He filched another canapé. Alfred scowled at this overt theft and moved the pan to the other side of the counter. Bruce absently followed them.

Bruce did this before every event - he stole hors d'oeuvres, lingered and got in the way while he waited until the last moment to get ready, then complained that there were strangers so close to his headquarters. Then he would paint a smile on his face to cover a stormy sea of irritation as he made a fashionably late début. Alfred wondered if he should exile the man from the kitchen so he could get something done.

He squelched his own annoyance and endured Bruce's presence. It was rare for them to have peaceful time together, even if it was in silence. Like he had done over the years, Alfred simply took Bruce by the shoulders, guided him to a stool, and made him sit down. He placed a few canapés on a plate and set them in front of his ward. Bruce still hadn't looked up from his data pad.

"What are you reading that has you so enthralled? Crime report from Gotham PD?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. That's waiting on the computer in the cave. This is something...else."

"Editing a memo for the next Justice League meeting?"

"No. That was finished yesterday."

"A proposal for Wayne Enterprise's next venture?"

"I stalled on that one. Everyone's developing their own sustainable energy solutions. I want to present an element that no one else has thought of. Maybe a unique test case, but I'm not sure what that will be."

"So you're doing research."

"Something like that." Bruce propped his head on the counter, absently eating another canapé. Alfred walked up behind him and glanced over his shoulder.

"yumeji ni wa / ashi mo yasumezu / kayoedomo / utsutsu ni hitome / mishigoto wa arazu" Alfred's pronunciation was almost perfect. Bruce abruptly turned off the datapad. "Is your next investor a dreamy-eyed Japanese girl?"

"Why would you say that?" Bruce turned the datapad face down.

"I know this particular poem. By Ono no Komachi, it is quite lovely." Alfred cleared his throat. "In my dreams / along dream paths / without resting my legs / I go often to you / in the real world, a single glimpse / is different."

"I guess that is one way you can translate it."

"Are you studying to resume the Yakuza infiltration? You found a new geisha spy?"

"No, I abandoned that investigation. They lost interest in Gotham after I took care of that other gang. They transferred their operation to Blüdhaven instead. Dick's pulling some strings to get his precinct to take care of them."

"Then why are you reading Japanese love poems?"

"This was downloaded recently on the Watchtower, during one of the monitor duty shifts. It's not approved reading material for station operations, so I'm investigating its source."

"I see." Alfred almost asked when it had been accessed, but he already knew the answer - Friday evening, after the dinner shift. He had messaged this link to someone interested in expanding her knowledge of international literature. The poem was light and short, but posed a tantalizing challenge for someone learning Kanji. If Bruce found this there...thank goodness for communication encrypting!

Alfred also hoped Diana would read into it what he wanted her to see. Apparently, he hit two birds with one stone with this particular poem. Bruce's constant suspicion and silent pining had him reading the butler's message to the lonely princess...

Both heroes were meeting each other in their dreams, but they were doing nothing in real life. Maybe he could help them with some covert manipulation.

"Perhaps this can be used in your pre-dinner banter with your guests. Some have clients in Japan, so they would appreciate some cultural knowledge to make them look good."

"That's not a bad idea. Who are we hosting anyway?"

"Apparently you were so engrossed with love poems, you did not check the guest list that I forwarded you a few days ago."

Bruce abruptly turned on his datapad. Tabbing through a few windows, he came across the required information. His eyes widened at the listed names. "Why didn't I see this sooner?"

Because you too were busy running to Diana in your dreams, Alfred thought. "I do not know, sir. Is someone occupying your mind?"

Bruce ignored the jibe. "Damn...these people are important. One of them is the investor I'm trying to win over. I have to make this party count. Is my suit ready?"

"No, I intended for you to walk around the house naked."

"Good...and my shoes?"

"I combed your bunny slippers to a high fluff."

"Great. What are we having tonight?"

"Leftovers, if you insist on eating what I put out before it gets served."

"Can't help it, these are good." He popped two canapés in his mouth.

"So what would you recommend for tonight's wine?" Alfred asked. Mouth still full, Bruce's slumped shoulders and guttural groan conveyed his frustration. He didn't know why the butler asked that question before every party. He didn't care. Bruce motioned towards the pantry cellar with an impatient gesture.

"I take it that I should make a choice that will have you look like a true wine connoisseur, correct?" Alfred nodded at Bruce's thumbs up. "I figured as much. I already picked out a fine vintage that will convey your careless wealth and influential connections. Not that you'll actually drink it."

It may also get some questions started on why you have a bottle of Themysciran wine from the Amazon Champion.

Bruce patted Alfred on the shoulder, then rushed out of the kitchen. Seeing the empty pan, the butler stepped over to the refrigerator, took out three more plates of canapés, and arranged them onto the baking surface. He had done this enough times to be ready for it.

Alfred felt good that Bruce was taking this dinner party seriously. He knew the undercover vigilante was trying to distance himself from the Playboy reputation he had cultivated through the years. Bruce was getting older, and the constant raised eyebrows were grating on his nerves. And such pursuits had various eligible bachelorettes trying to pin him down and commit to one of them.

Alfred knew where Bruce's heart actually resided, and that one hadn't visited the Manor in ages.

While the next batch of canapés warmed up, Alfred took out a loaf of bread and various ingredients from the refrigerator. He assembled a some sandwiches, arranged them on a plate, and added chips and raw veggies to the side. Including a few cookies and a bottle water to the ensemble, Alfred placed the simple meal on a tray and carried it into the hall.

The butler usually didn't allow this much food to go beyond the kitchen unless it was going to the cave, but this occasion was different. As he balanced the tray up the stairs, Alfred pondered his destination. He wondered if he should give a bit of tough love to the meal's recipient, but thought differently. Tim had been through enough. He didn't need to be ordered to attend a party that he had no interest in.

Alfred hoped he could deliver the tray, talk calmly with the boy, and convince him to reconsider. The butler stopped in front of the door and took a deep breath. He hated how one so young could have his elders walking on eggshells.

Knock knock knock

Alfred waited for Tim to answer. He knew the boy tuned out the rest of the house by wearing earphones, so he knocked a little louder than usual. Thankfully, he answered the door on the first try.

"Master Tim, I have your dinner for you."

"Nothing fancy, I see," Tim said, looking over the plate.

"There will be other selections in the kitchen, but you'll need to come down to get them."

"That's okay, I can eat this." Tim took the tray but didn't put it down. Alfred took that opportunity to inspect his room. Not a total mess, but not completely tidy either. It looked like the young genius was tinkering with one of his gadgets.

"You know, it would mean a lot to Bruce if you attended the dinner. I could get a suit ready for you."

Tim perked up. "Really? Did he say that?"

"Well, no. But he did invite you."

The boy slouched. "Right, like an invitation slipped under my door is a personal message from Mr. Wayne."

"Actually, it was. I didn't write that, he did. That was his handwriting you saw there."

"Oh, and I thought a computer did that. Even his handwriting is mechanical."

Alfred didn't like it when the boy took this attitude with his father, adopted or otherwise. "You will tone down the ire, Mr. Drake. You know that was a personal request from him. He could have ordered you to attend, but he gave you the option."

Tim's eyes narrowed. There it was. The Switch. The boy found something to latch onto and he was going to hammer it home. Eggshell shattered.

The boy's voice took on a sinister quality. "I don't want to be paraded around as some proof that he's a good dad. I can't fake a smile that long unless it was cut into my face."

Alfred's own displeasure flared. "That insult can only be used so long in this house, Timothy. Bruce regrets what Joker did to you, but you shouldn't hold it against him. He wasn't the one who put you through that."

"But he blames me for it, doesn't he?" Tim didn't wait for Alfred to answer. "If I had been more careful, I wouldn't have gotten caught. I was careless and I failed him. That's why he hung up my uniform."

"No, it's because he cares about you that he wants to take you out of harms way. He feels that he shouldn't have put you in that danger…"

"And that's how I know we're talking about two different people. One, you said he 'feels'. I doubt that. And two, he never really cared about the dangers. If he did, he wouldn't have adopted me in the first place."

"You are being uncharacteristically harsh with him, Master Tim. Why are you acting this way?"

"Because there's no other reason for me to be here! I became his son when he let me be Robin. I had a purpose. Now that's gone...what am I to him? A cause? We both know his mission is more important. His child? He doesn't treat me like one."

"He respects you as a young man with a mind of his own. He values you as a person…"

"Is this how he actually treats people? Deny them a reason to go on? Bringing up a traumatic experience I'd rather forget? Every time we talk, he asks me about what happened. He analyzes what I say, but he doesn't hear me. He just wants to fix something. I'm not a broken doll to be put back together!"

"So what is it you want from him?"

"The impossible. A human being. Some warmth. Maybe, for once, he can show an actual emotion..." Tim's eyes glanced over Alfred's shoulder. He shoved the tray of food back into the butler's hands. "Nevermind, I'm not hungry."

"But, Master Tim. You're too skinny. You have to eat more."

"When I feel like it."

"Timothy…"

"I SAID WHEN I FEEL LIKE IT!" The door suddenly slammed shut in the butler's face.

Alfred stared at the wood grain close to his nose. His hands shook with frustration and anger. He wanted to storm back in there and lecture the disrespectful boy on how to speak to his elder. Not even Bruce treated him like that!

"That wasn't meant for you."

Alfred turned to find Bruce leaning in a doorway across the hall. His suit jacket hung open, white shirt untucked, and his tie draped around his neck. He held his data pad in one hand, the other hand in his pocket. His expression was blank, but his body slumped in resignation.

Bruce stepped up to the older man and gently took the tray from his hands. He set the meal on the floor and knocked softly on the door. "It's here when you're hungry." Then he slowly walked towards the stairs. Alfred followed him.

"Master Bruce. You heard the entire exchange."

"It was hard not to. Sound carries in that hallway."

"Why didn't you intervene?"

"You had it handled…"

Alfred stopped Bruce with a hand on the shoulder. "No, why didn't you answer his accusations? He should know you by now, you're not as cold as he describes."

"Perhaps I am. Or...maybe I'm not communicating good enough. Besides, he would have used anything I said against me. He's been holding that in for a while. I'm glad he got it out."

"So you believe him? That you think he's broken?

"He's hurting, Alfred. That's something I can understand. He was victim to a violent, traumatic experience, and he's lashing out. He's not hearing anything anyone tells him. Just let him be. He'll need to work through some of that himself."

"If you understand what he's going through, then perhaps you should be there with him more. He could use your wisdom. Open up to him, let him know how you got over your own pain."

"Have I?" His glance into Alfred's eyes held a world of emotion he couldn't even start to express. "I will talk to him...when I have time." Bruce held up the data pad. The Bat Symbol displayed brightly on the screen. "The computer picked up a conversation on the police scanners. Something's happening at the docks that I should investigate. I need to get to the cave." Bruce resumed his walk towards the library. Alfred paced along.

"But the party is starting soon. What about your guests?"

"Contact them, give them my regrets. So they won't think I'm blowing them off, get them reservations to an exclusive restaurant. Tell the maitre de' that their meals are on me and let them order whatever they want. Spare no expense."

"And to your potential investor? You'll have to spare expenses if you can't keep your business going."

Bruce paused in front of the grandfather clock. He sighed. "Ask if he'd be willing to meet with me for lunch. I want to talk with him about my proposal. I hope I can convince him to invest, even with the limited information that I have."

"And when should this supposed lunch occur?"

"See if he's available for a Monday sometime this month. I want him to start the week with Wayne Enterprises fresh on his mind."

"After this debacle, it sure will be." Bruce glared at Alfred's careless comment. "These sudden cancellations aren't doing your reputation any good. At one point or another, your life is going to have to come before your mission."

"I'm working for that day. Now, I'm needed elsewhere." Bruce turned the clock's handles to the time that would open the secret door. Without waiting to see what Alfred would do, he stepped through and descended into his subterranean domain.

Alfred stood alone. "You're needed here more, Master Bruce, but I guess Tim was right. You need something to fix. If you can't fix a broken boy, perhaps your city will show better improvement. I hope Gotham appreciates this work they don't know you're doing."

The butler watched as Bruce walked away. From behind, Alfred could see the strong set of shoulders and dark head of hair the man had inherited from his father. Yet… he wish he had a reason to smile more. Then he would be able to see a ghost of his mother. Yet the determined step and constant scowl was all Bruce.

Alfred turned away and shuffled towards his kitchen. He turned off the stove and picked up the plates of canapés to throw them in the trash. Then he paused. Setting them down onto the counter, he slowly sat on a stool. He lowered his head and covered his face in his hands.

He reached into his pocket and took out a handkerchief to wipe away moisture from his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he searched for the calm he had cultivated over the many years of service. Alfred suddenly felt very, very old. These emotional upheavals were taking their toll. Didn't he deserve some peace?

Maybe it was time to take that retirement Bruce offered. Then he would be spared more years of sudden cancellations, dashed hopes, and broken spirits. There wasn't any energy left to raise another troubled boy. He couldn't go through that again.

He was tired. So, so...tired.

But...he couldn't abandon them. They were his family. He acted the servant, but he gave them so much more. His heart was here. It was his job - his privilege - to welcome such heroic people home after they gave so selflessly of themselves. But they rarely gave back to each other. And it was so hard to receive it when it was offered.

"yumeji ni wa / ashi mo yasumezu / kayoedomo / utsutsu ni hitome / mishigoto wa arazu." Alfred whispered the poem to himself. On the surface, it was a wistful account of star-struck lovers denying their feelings.

In my dreams / along dream paths / without resting my legs / I go often to you

How he wished for the dream. A life of peace and happiness. Each were running towards it, but not getting any closer. They ran at different paces, and in opposite directions. Alfred wanted to grab all of them - including the one that moved away because he couldn't take it anymore - and hold them close.

Something had to happen, and soon. This house was falling apart around their ears, and he didn't know what to do...

Fix it.

Alfred closed his eyes and put his hand to his chest, over his heart. He envisioned his dream. What he wanted for himself, and his family. For all those households that needed hope.

In the real world, a single glimpse / is different.

Sunday, Mid-Morning… After the Announcement

Alfred's Kitchen.
"Go outside! Get some fresh air. I don't want to see you for a few hours. Go for a walk or something."

Alfred pushed Bruce towards the door, then shooed the rest of his flock away from the kitchen counter. He figured if he could get the biggest one to move, the rest would follow. Sure enough, Bruce grabbed Diana along the way and dragged her with him. Tim, not wanting to be parted from his new mother, trailed after them.

Dick seemed like he wanted to stay and finish anything left over from breakfast. All Alfred had to do was place a dish towel over his arm. The young man took the signal as it was; go with them, or stay and clean. Your choice. Dick ran out the door.

Alfred watched out the window as the group worked their way across the manor's expansive land. Tim threw a soccer ball at his brother, where they immediately started kicking it across the lawn. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the boy's vibrancy again. Diana's discovery of that demon in Tim's head saved them from more heartache. A wave of thankfulness flooded though Alfred's chest; Diana's stubborn love had done wonders for their little family.

"Ah...can you see your son, Thomas? Are you as proud of him as I am?" Alfred whispered to himself. He smiled as Bruce took Diana's hand. "You might have approved of her, Martha. But then, is anyone good enough for your little boy? One thing's for sure - she's a far sight better than all those other women who pursued him."

Alfred let the memories of his best friends fill his mind. He missed them terribly. Then he shook himself out of the nostalgic thoughts. Between those and the words Bruce whispered in his ear, he was about to start bawling like an emotional twit.

"Alright! Enough of that. Can't cook if I'm all misty-eyed. Let's get started, shall we, AP?" Alfred took a deep breath and let it go in a huff. With much self-discipline, and some self-discussion, the butler got down to business.

"I'll hold off on getting these dishes clean. Between the two boys, those will get clean in no time. Good thing Bruce installed these new appliances for me. I'll need the extra burners and oven. Much more efficient. I'm going to need another cup of tea, there's so much to do."

Alfred poured water for his second cuppa. Intentionally overflowing the cup, he carefully tipped a portion of the beverage into a flower pot on the window sill. A useful plant, he had used yarrow flowers in various ways, even giving some to Bruce when the hero refused to go to bed. The medicinal qualities calmed the vigilante's battle pain, and the soporific effects were enough to convince him that he was relaxed enough to rest.

Alfred noted the bottle of left over Xinomavro on the counter. Hmmm...this could be used in a recipe. Red wine vinaigrette? Or for a beef bourguignon. He uncorked the bottle and looked in. Maybe I'll just pour a glass and drink. Not sure if they left enough to cook with.

He took one more glance out of the window to check on his charges. Bruce and Diana were farther away from the house, still holding hands. He knew he was going to see the newly wed couple like that for a good time to come. They're going to be hard to separate.

As it should be.

Alfred shifted his gaze in time to see Tim tackle Dick, effectively keeping the soccer ball away from him. "Oh, I didn't know this was going to turn into a game of rugby. Good take down. They're definitely going to be hungry later after all that activity."

Alfred grabbed his garden basket to take down to the pantry cellar. With two extra mouths to feed, he'd have to carry more up the stairs. Wait - he'll have to fix enough for a full sized warrior, a healing Amazon, a growing boy, and a young man who hadn't had this much home cooking in ages, not to mention himself. Better double all the portions.

And don't forget...sometimes, you just don't feel like cooking. Make extra to warm up for later. Bruce barely looks at what he's eating if he's stuck in front of that damned computer. At least you can fix him gourmet leftovers.

Alfred entered the walk-in pantry with an unconscious sigh of contentment. Though he hadn't grown up poor, he knew the value of a well stocked cupboard. It was a point of pride knowing that, at a moment's notice, he could prepare a satisfying meal. In this case, he was glad that he had full control of the food budget. Made it easier to plan ahead...even for unexpected feasts.

After adding various ingredients to his garden basket, Alfred turned to face a full wall of bottles. He let a small smile cross his lips; he tried so hard to teach Bruce how to appreciate the subtle nuances of wine. In the process, he had the pleasure of watching the usually controlled hero struggle through the alcoholic beverage. Bruce had gone to bed after only three small tastes, he didn't even make it to patrol that night. Man has no tolerance whatsoever.

If Diana got him to drink as much as I saw...I wonder how well that went!

Seeing that Bruce was such a wine newbie, Alfred chose a few bottles of milder vintages. One red...this chardonnay was good...one white...Diana liked sweet, she'd probably enjoy this Riesling. He added those to his basket.

"I should see what vegetables are ripe in the garden. Better that we eat those instead of those damned deer! I wonder if Tim was any closer to convincing Bruce to get that dog. I think the count was at one hundred seventy-six…" After adding a few random packages to his load, Alfred shuffled back up the stairs. He could come back down if needed, this basket was getting heavy!

The transition from dark pantry to bright kitchen had the butler blinking to adjust to the light. "DIANA!" Alfred's head turned towards the gleefully yelled name. Never had he seen a bond form so quickly as the one between Tim and Diana. At first he thought they wouldn't like each other; the legendary Amazon abandonment of male children forbade any relationship between them. But then, Tim was no ordinary child and Diana no typical Amazon.

Alfred paused and sat down on one of the counter stools. So much had happened in these past few hours. He discovered Diana had returned to the manor in the most unexpected way. Then he found out she had lost her powers because she loved Bruce. He didn't like that detail, and wondered if that was really the cause.

Then chaos - Bruce and Dick rushed off to defend Gotham. A sinister voice threatened them, and challenged someone to come help. Diana rushed to do what she could, and Alfred helped her prepare. In the process, a pair of magical charms called out Joker's presence in Timothy's head and painfully burned the demon out. Diana and Robin rushed out…

Then Batman and Nightgale returned, glaring bullets at each other. Alfred could tell that they were about to explode. ENOUGH! He wasn't about to let them mess up their bond, so he gave them a piece of his mind.

"You love each other. Do you hear me? No matter what you're going to discuss after I leave, you will remember that. There will be no storming out of this cave, no broken hearts. You will not leave here until you have this resolved."

Fix it. Oh...and did they!

Bruce and Diana married. Alfred was still reeling from that development. He had expected a wedding hosted by Wayne Manor to be a lavish, fluffy affair with Diana dressed in white and Bruce waiting at the end of an aisle. Seems they had other plans...or impulsive reactions. A stab of disappointment hit Alfred in the heart; it would have been nice to have stood at Bruce's side as he took his vows. Then he tapped that feeling down.

This was their marriage, their life. Let them live it as they see fit. He was just glad to be a part of it.

All thoughts were interrupted when he heard excited voices approaching the kitchen door. "They've been barely gone an hour. What part of 'a few' did they not understand?" He stood up in indignation.

"Seriously, people! If you want me to create my best, you need to let me have some room. Unless you want to chop some onions…" His voice petered out as Bruce and Diana entered the house. He barely saw the man. He stared at the woman.

Wonder Woman. In full star-spangled regalia.

"My word! Diana...what happened?"

"Isn't it wonderful, Alfred? Bruce has been accepted as my husband!" She glanced down at her attire. "Oh, and my powers were returned, too."

"That's fabulous! But...how?"

"She did it," Dick said as he escorted a blond woman into the house. Tim held her hand.

"Look Alfred! This is Polly, our new grandmother!" The boy held her hand up like he was showing off a prize.

"Polly? Grandmother?" Alfred glanced at the woman again. She was much too young to have grandchildren. He put a hand to his head in confusion. Drinking that last glass of wine might happen sooner than later...

"Timothy, I think we need to explain this better. Let me introduce myself." The woman let go of the boy and held out her hand to the old man. "My name is Hippolyta. I'm Diana's mother."

Alfred reached for her offered greeting as his quick mind sorted through the puzzle pieces - powers… acceptance… grandmother… mother… He suddenly let go of her hand and bowed low.

"Your Majesty. I am honored by your presence."

"Mother, this is the man I told you about, Alfred Pennyworth. The one that can outcook Despoina," Diana said. He smiled as she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Really?" Hippolyta gave Alfred a critical eye. "That's high praise if you can cook better than an Amazon kitchen mistress."

"Is that what she said about me?" He threw Diana a sidelong glance.

"Yes. She also said you ran a well honed household. Seeing who lives under this roof," she gave Bruce her own look, "I meet you with a high opinion."

"I'm more than up to that task, Your Majesty. I've trained with the best. I was in the middle of planning a special dinner tonight. I hear you already know about their marriage."

"Yes, I do." Hippolyta tilted her head towards the newlywed couple. "They surprised you with that, too, didn't they?"

"One of the few times in my life I was nearly struck senseless." He paused in consideration. "I remember you now. You attended Superman's funeral. You dressed different, I didn't recognize you without the winged head-piece."

"I've just been through a few trials where I gave up my crown." They all gasped. "My crown, not my reign. Calm down."

"Sounds like an adventure. I'm sure we would be glad to hear about it."

"You're taking this very calmly," Hippolyta said. "Are you not alarmed to see me?"

"Oh, I am alarmed...immensely." The queen nearly laughed at the butler's flat, droll expression. "I'm accustomed to the unexpected. You see who I work for." He pointed at Bruce.

"I can understand that. I'm sure he tests your patience...with and without the mask."

"Oh, so you know about that, too. Good. That'll make talking about him much easier."

"You know I'm standing right here," Bruce said.

"You are?" Alfred droned. "Between Her Majesty, Wonder Woman, and those two giggling in the background, I nearly forgot you were there. You were being so quiet. Good ninja skill."

"Your placidity and sarcasm during chaos was also well told," Hippolyta said. "Diana wasn't exaggerating about you."

"Oh, this is nothing. The arrival of royalty? I look forward to it." Alfred smiled at Diana. She grinned back. "However, they should know how I react when things get really chaotic. I put it right back in its place." He shook his finger towards the newlywed couple.

"And because of that, look what happened," Bruce said. He held up Diana's hand, her fingers firmly laced with his. "This was all your fault."

"I take total, ecstatic, complete responsibility. Bring on your worst retribution, Batman. I can take it."

"Be gentle with him, my love. You need him," Diana said. Bruce glared at Alfred, his look saying 'you better be glad she likes you.' Alfred lifted his chin arrogantly, his gesture responding 'bring it, boy.' Their smirks softened the exchanged.

Alfred turned abruptly towards Hippolyta. "Where are my manners? You are welcome to stay until we can get you home." He looked at Bruce for approval.

"Of course," Bruce confirmed.

"Would you like to freshen up, Your Majesty?" Alfred offered. "You must have traveled far if we find you at our door."

"Actually, I had the opportunity to drop in." Hippolyta looked up. "Literally. I am feeling a bit tired. Transferring the Champion's powers back to Diana did drain me."

"Then by all means, relax. Is there anything you require?"

"Just some water and a place to rest my feet. I've eaten recently, I don't need anything else."

"Really? Where did you eat?" Diana asked.

"That is a story in itself. So much has happened, I can't wait to tell you!" Hippolyta said. Diana reached and took her mother's hand, and pulled her towards the sitting room. Tim moved to go with them.

"Not you, young man. Nor you, Master Dick. Now that you're back, you can set the table. Add another setting to the ensemble for dinner. Then get in here and load the dishwasher." He endured their pained groans. "Go on, then you can impress Her Majesty by telling her about some of your adventures."

"Oh, that reminds me! I forgot we had some evidence from last night." Tim tugged at Dick by the wrist. "Come on. There's that one bit we couldn't figure out. I want to know what it is." They rushed into the adjacent dining room. The sounds of clanking dishes echoed through the hall.

Two men were left alone in the kitchen. "An unexpected visit, isn't it, Master Bruce?"

"Yes it is. Like it was orchestrated."

"You think Her Majesty had something to do with that?"

"No. If anything, we accidentally pulled her into it." He answered Alfred's curious look. "These past few days have seen some strange instances. Hippolyta's appearance only adds to them."

"Well, at least she accepted your marriage. I thought she would have fought it tooth and nail."

"Seems she's been through some experiences, too. That may have had something to do with it." Bruce laid his hand on the butler's shoulder. "So...you know she threw out a challenge."

"Oh, I heard it. If she thinks I'm intimidated by an immortal cook, she is greatly mistaken."

"I've had dinner at the palace. It was pretty good." He shied away from the old man's glare. "I'm just saying. You have some skills, too. Let's see if you can keep up with an Amazon."

"I'll show her. I have a few tricks up my sleeve, too. I will make this a dinner no one will ever forget." He turned to empty his food basket. "Oh...another mouth to feed. Need to add more to the pot!"

Touch my skin, and tell me what you're thinking...