9035/A Family Quandary

A Family Quandary
Date of Scene:	11 December 2021
Location:	Batcave
Synopsis:	Alfred, Tim, and Bruce discuss the situation surrounding Helena Wayne and what it entails for the family.
Cast of Characters:	Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne

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Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
    The gloom in the Batcave is palpable. Alfred pads about from one medical system to another, and then up to the Batcomputer to check on things in a dutiful, if rather morose manner. Most of the butler's attention though seems to be fixed on the computer running a blood scan as the old man pads about in his vaguely angry fashion. Tonight however it seems tinged with a touch of concern, and as the computer begins to feed out results Alfred's brow furrows in thought.

    In the wake of their recent exploits it seems everything else has been put back into working order, though a supply of medical supplies sits out on a desk with the obvious intent of being moved upstairs to where Bruce is being 'kept' as best as Alfred can manage, but more unusually a vase of flowers sit - a single white chrysanthemum amidst a field of violets, set against a moss stone just beginning to show the signs of blossoming white flowers.

Tim Drake has posed:
    The low roar of a motorcycle precedes Red Robin's arrival, through the hidden entrance into the Cave. For a moment or two after he sits there, the engine rumbling, distracted no doubt by some sort of notification that has come through his HUD.

    Whatever it is, though, Tim dismisses it. Other things take precedence, right now. He climbs off his bike and makes his way at a quick jog off the vehicle platform and up to where the Batcomputer sits, centralized prominently. A quick application of adhesive de-bonder and then he's able to peel away his domino mask, which means the concern he's holding tightly in check is now on display in the way he glances around, before settling on the flowers. His weight shifts from one foot to the other.

    "Sorry it took me so long to get here," Tim says. He'd been outside the city, up in New York, when Alfred had called. And he hasn't had a chance to change back to his regular costume, so he's in a stealth equivalent of his usual gear, most of the red changed out for shades of grey and black. He even has a hood attached to his cape. Nobody tell Damian.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
    The arrival of Tim did little to distract Alfred from his work. Hovering over the cave's medical lab spoke enough for his anxiety as 'middle child' of Robin's made his approach, he turned to a feed that was beginning to feed out and scowled to himself while reviewing some of the initial papers flowing out. Casting a glance toward the ascent leading to Bruce's room, Tim's voice brought a slight smile to the man as he spun on his heels.

    "Ah, Timothy..." he began - the lack of formal titling possibly enough to speak to his concern. His eyes glanced the man - though Alfred may continually think 'young man' or possibly 'boy' - up and down as the smile faded slightly and his usual sardonic humour emerged. "Between intruding on the British Crown, dealing with Freeze, and... everything else you get up to... I assume you're doing well?"

    The normally pointed question was lacking in barb, Alfred's eyes flashing in something approaching mirth as he turned back to the console. "I'd hate for my concerns to intrude on your need for medical attention."

Tim Drake has posed:
    If Alfred's preoccupation or the lack of the title before his name surprises Tim, he doesn't show it. Instead he just works to undo the clasps of his cape. "Yeah, everything's fine," he answers, which is probably not much of an answer, in truth. Though Alfred is often one of the few Tim willingly opens up to about his troubles.

    Any troubles he has at the moment, though, Tim sets aside. Especially if Alfred isn't even snarking at him in his polite British way of his.

    "I have a bruise on my elbow where I banged it against the corner of my nightstand." Then Tim shrugs one shoulder. "Pretty sure I don't need medical attention for that, though." His cape and its newly attached hood come free, and after draping it over the back of a chair, Tim sits himself down. "Are *you* doing well?" he asks, instead.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
    Alfred's brow furrows, as the computer begins to feed out a string of information - in print form, rather than digitally - and the Wayne's steward regards it closely. Without lifting his gaze he lets out a sigh and his head lists to the side. "If that's the worst you endured I think I can be of use... I have some rather adorable compression wraps depicting dinosaurs, if you'd like," he quipped in his usual fashion, staring at the feed of paper.

    "With everything going on in the world, Tim..." he began, his tone dropping in turn with his abbreviation, "If there was some possible future of Master Bruce having something approaching a normal life - should I... should I let him know?" Alfred asked. For once he showed indecision and concern, tearing the paper from computer and gliding across the floor to where Tim stood.^

    Offering the paper across, he frowned and looked up to regard the young man. The feed read that this 'Helena Wayne' as she called herself was a genetic match to Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle, one of their offspring, and the news didn't seem to do what one might expect for Alfred. "Do I tell him? I... it gives me hope - for all of you, but given our climate..."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Against anyone's better judgement, Bruce had been making appearances as Batman despite the wound in his chest. It had been long enough to heal, but strenuous activity was still off the cards for another few days. The appearances were less combative and more about 'showing the flag' as it were, a brief visit to the new Justice League Dark having been at the top of his list.

He returns now, the majority of the costume removed and stored for the day except for the leggings and boots that he still wears. The bandages across his chest show a little sign of staining from blood, and he winches as he pulls them free to inspect the wound. He descends the stairs, mouth a grim line as he speaks up.

"I already know," he says flatly, "Selina doesn't. Need to keep it that way for now."

Tim Drake has posed:
    There's a moment where Tim, mouth dropped open, looks like he might actually accept the dino compression wrap. Like most kids, he went through a phase as a child where he had idealized the life of someone who goes out digging for things. Paleontology, not archaeology, specifically for Tim.

    So, yes. He likes dinosaurs. But he does eventually wave the offer off. "I'm fine," he reiterates, as he tugs his legs up to sit with them folded.

    It's probably a good thing he's already sitting, too. The question that Alfred poses has his brow furrowed, gaze settling on something in the middle distance. There are... a lot of ways he could answer that. Most of them sarcastic, revolving around the concept of a normal life. But he bites those back and instead reaches out to take the offered paper.

    Which he proceeds to stare at. For a long while.

    Finally, he opens his mouth--and that's when Bruce comes in. Tim doesn't jump, but he does let out a great heaving breath. "Okay, so. Alternate universe? Time travel? Engineered birth with accelerated aging?"

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
Rolling his eyes, Alfred allows a glare to the staircase as Bruce descends. "What -do- you pay me for, sir, if you're just going to disregard all of my direction?" he quips, waving a hand absently at the paper as he spins on his heel to approach the Batcomputer and begin pulling information over from the initial blood scan. "She claims it's an alternate universe of some sort. Obviously the blood works out... I suppose your midnight ramps aren't entirely fruitless, hm, Master Bruce?" he remarks over his shoulder as he pulls up pictures of Helena and allows the computer to point out physical similarities between her and her apparent parents.

    Gliding from the computer toward Bruce, he takes some time to regard the Batman as he makes his way across the Batcave with the practiced ease of one used to someone not wanting attention. "I hope you'll forgive me sir, as -I- will forgive you for not informing one another sooner. Beyond Master Tim and myself, who else is in the know?" he asked pointedly, bordering as far as he might ever have on offended.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"Helena, obviously," Bruce begins, descending the stairs and moving towards the first aid station to set about replacing the bandages, "Barbara was the first one to bring it to me. I asked Selina if she'd had a child in the past, she told me no and I believe her. Which makes this alternate universe story the most likely if she's telling the truth."

The wound on his chest is a vicious one. Stitched up now, but it's still clear the knife hit its mark. The golden weapon is, for its part, stored away in one of the evidence trays beneath the Batcomputer.

"She told Barbara. I don't know who else she told. I assume Barbara brought it straight to me."

Tim Drake has posed:
    The pictures help put the pieces together. "Wasn't she at--she was at your birthday party," Tim starts to ask, but then he remembers, and the clarification is no longer needed. He looks between Alfred and Bruce, expression becoming more pinched as the alternate universe claim resolves itself to be the most likely case. This prompts Tim to briefly push the heels of his palms against his eyes.

    "Okay," is all Tim says to that. He unfolds his legs and stands, so that he can set the paper readout down. "I don't--." But he cuts himself off. Tim eyes the wound for a while as the gears in his head spin out of control.

    Tim takes in a deep breath. "So how long before the cat is out of the bag?" A pause. "That wasn't intentionally a pun, by the way."

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
    Helping where he can, Alfred scowls and casts a glance over toward Tim with some dismay. "-Mistress- Wayne, if this blood work is anything to operate off of, has only mentioned it to Miss Gordon. She's met some other people in costume," he continues, his gaze not leaving Tim as he idly helped to change Bruce's dressings. "I would hope it -doesn't- leave the bag. Though I suppose... well - " he paused, drifting off.

    Turning back to Bruce and helping to affix some of the bandages a little more forcefully than necessary, he tilted his head to make eye contact with his employer. "She tells me she's already following in your footsteps, Master Bruce. Miss Gordon has her on her network. We should bring her in to our own channels, if she's going to prove as hard headed as her -father-, if possibly under a pseudonym?"

Bruce Wayne has posed:
"Maybe," Bruce answers, stoically keeping himself from showing reaction to the more forceful application of treatment, "Selina is in a difficult spot. She's still adjusting to working with us like she is. Being one of us. It's too early to present the idea of her having become a mother in some other timeline, even by accident."

A pause, followed by a thoughtful glance towards Tim.

"That said, her blood is dangerous to have out there. It might be better to loop her in."

Tim Drake has posed:
    "Is this the same woman who dove after you through a portal into a hellscape?" Tim asks, head tilted to the side. He tugs his cape off the back of the chair and drapes it over his arm, distractedly. "I won't pretend like I know her all that well. By the time I came around she wasn't making real trouble for you any more."

    Except as an excuse to get Batman to chase after her, is what Tim thinks but doesn't say.

    So he just shrugs, instead. "But she has to be tough to have made it in the big bad villain underworld of Gotham." Then Tim look away. Another moment passes where he opens his mouth but then hesitates, shoulders hunching up, before a decision passes over him. The tension bleeds out of him. "I wouldn't want to be the last to know, is all," he offers.

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
    "Perhaps you're right, Master Bruce... but... imagine for a moment, if it were you the last to find out," Alfred offered, drifting away from the medical table to look Tim over. He exerted his vague paternal-esque authority to lift his chin, and then look into his eyes carefully while speaking over his shoulder. "I think looping her in is the best option - at the very least, i'd like to know exactly how little sleep your Schrodinger-like offspring was getting," he remarked, before gliding toward a conveniently placed tea kettle to prepare some beverages.

    "-All- of you are very tough, but not invincible. She stands more to lose without our support than we stand to gain neglecting it. Have you had the opportunity to speak with her, Master Bruce?" he continued in his level tone, returning to offer a cup of tea to Tim while sipping at his own.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
All Bruce offers in response is a simple twitch of his eyebrow. Whatever he's thinking, he keeps it well under wraps for the moment. The bandages are finally changed and affixed in place, prompting him to step past Alfred and pick up the bathrobe hung for him nearby.

"No, I haven't spoken with her," he admits, "Just saw her at the party. Like Tim. If I'm going to speak to her, I suppose you're right. I need to bring Selina."

Even if that could run the risk of destroying his current relationship with her. Though he holds off sharing that.

Tim Drake has posed:
    Tim is, in fact, fine! Really. No medical issues to speak of beyond a serious addiction to caffeine that will probably have an impact later on in life, but right now he's the very picture of health. Still, he accepts the looking-over that Alfred gives him without objections. He's used to it by now.

    Especially when it means he gets tea afterward. His previous seat ends up his current seat as Tim sits back down, to enjoy his cup of tea, with a murmured "Thank you," to Alfred for it.

    "We aren't, as a whole, easy people to... care about," Tim says. He does not say the L-word, pointedly, and for a moment he sits there silently with his nose wrinkled in vague discontent. But then he sighs, and his breath blows the steam away from his tea. Which he takes a sip from. "If she's up for that, I don't think there's much you can throw at her that she can't handle."

Alfred Pennyworth has posed:
    There's a slight hesitation in Alfred's response. His brow furrows - for all of his history, deception in regards to family is largely foreign to him and it prompts a more candid response than he might usually adopt. "You don't necessarily need to bring Miss Kyle, sir. But -you- should speak with her. She's... troubled. I entertained her here, and you could see how much it looked like home to her," Alfredexplained, taking a sip of his tea.

    He turns to look off to his right, frowning at Tim's comment. "You're all very easy to love - or maybe easy for -me- to love. I'm fond of the idea of a 'Mistress' Wayne inhabiting the manor once again, but... I can see where the difficulty might emerge."

    Pausing for a moment, Alfred let out a sigh and waved his free hand about, "I think you should speak to her alone, first. Honesty that brings pain to others is no better than dishonesty otherwise. None of you," he continues, his gaze snapping between both Bruce and Tim for a moment, "Are strangers to deception in service to protecting those we care about. We shouldn't forget those skills."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
For Bruce's part, he remains silent. Whatever choices he's made he keeps to himself - at least for the moment. Fastening the robe, he moves towards the flight of stairs that leads to the elevator. He leaves the other two to their discussion, pointedly not weighing in on the matters of the heart when Tim brings them up.

Tim Drake has posed:
    While Bruce might be retreating, Tim's response is to just stare down into his tea. No response, but there's a flash of what might be a vaguely guilty unease on his face before it smooths out. Or at least he hides it all by taking another sip of still-too-hot tea.

    At this point he's scalded his mouth with coffee so often that he's practically immune, though.

    "I hope it works out for them," is all he decides on saying.