If anyone suspected Bruce as the figure in black on the rooftop, no one acted on it.
Dianne was sitting upright, wrapped in a blanket, on a gurney beside one of the barricade’s ambulances. When Bruce and Harvey reached her, she stretched her trembling arms out to both of them, hugging them tight. Bruce closed his eyes, taking in the embrace. At least they were all here. At least his friends were all alive. That was all that mattered.
When he opened his eyes, he thought, for a moment, that he saw a girl with dark eyes walking through the crowd. He thought he could hear her voice. Maybe if he blinked, he would find himself inside the halls of Arkham again, staring through a glass window at a girl who tilted her head at him and wove her hair into a shining black braid.
But when he looked again, she was gone, replaced with crowds of police and reporters, like she’d never been there at all.
—
The next morning, Bruce woke up back in his mansion and limped his way down to the courtyard. His body felt bruised and sore in a hundred places, but for the first time in a while, he’d slept through the night. No dreams. No haunted halls. It was a surreal feeling, watching the sunlight cut through the windows of his home and cast bright patterns on the floor. As if the previous night had never happened.
Out on the courtyard patio, Alfred had already set out a tray of coffee, eggs, and toast. Bruce gingerly took a seat in a chair, then looked around at the soothing greenery. The morning was so strangely quiet. Only the sound of birds and a distant fountain could be heard. Had it only been last night that the hostage standoff had taken place at the concert hall, that the roar of helicopter blades and gunfire had filled his ears?
“Morning, Master Wayne.”
Bruce turned in his seat to see his guardian come outside with an armful of envelopes. “Glad to see it, Alfred,” he replied as Alfred took a seat beside him.
“Lucius stopped by. He wanted to pass along his gratitude to you,” Alfred said. “If the police ever come sniffing around WayneTech, he’ll make sure to cover for you.”
“Does anyone suspect…?”
Alfred shook his head. “Police still have a warrant out for the arrest of an unidentified assailant in black. They won’t find you, not if Lucius has anything to do with it.”
Bruce tried to smile at Alfred. “Did you apologize to Lucius for me, for breaking into his labs?”
“Lucius is quite fine with your thievery, all things considered,” Alfred said with a single chuckle, “and would like to see you later today to give his thanks in person, if you’re up for it. He says the team at WayneTech will be busy working out the drone security loophole that Madeleine was able to exploit. Quite a loophole, I’d say.” Alfred took the stack of envelopes under his arm and tossed them onto the table. “Some cards were dropped off at the front gate for you.”
Bruce ran a hand through the stack, recognizing the names and some of the addresses. They were from classmates and friends, teachers, and Wayne Industries employees. His hand paused on one. It was addressed from Richard. He glanced up at Alfred, who simply nodded, and then carefully tore the seal. Inside was a get-well card. When Bruce opened the card, he saw a brief, handwritten message.
Thank you.
Even after all this time, Bruce could still recognize Richard’s handwriting. He reread the words. Richard could not have known that Bruce was the suited figure inside the concert hall. Could he? Had he recognized Bruce’s fighting style, or his voice? Bruce shook his head, light-headed at the thought, and for a moment, he pictured Richard taken into custody at the police precinct. Would Richard reveal Bruce’s identity to the police?
It would certainly match Richard’s category. Vengeful, bitter, taunting, eager to see Bruce punished a second time. But Bruce sat and studied the message. Thank you.
Somewhere in those simple words, he thought, was a silent promise to keep Bruce’s secret.
The chaos of the previous night all came back to him now. “I feel like I’m not really here, Alfred,” Bruce admitted.
“I know,” Alfred said gently. “Give yourself time to heal from all that’s happened.” He sighed, then studied his young ward. “I feel as if I may have trouble keeping you out of harm’s way, Master Wayne, even though you’ve proven yourself capable of handling it.”
Bruce thought back to the feeling of Madeleine lying limp in his arms. His head still felt fuzzy, and he couldn’t quite bring himself to ask Alfred what the police would do with her body. Where she would be buried. “I don’t think I’ve proven much,” Bruce said.
Alfred gave him a pointed look. “Just try not to give me too many heart attacks. I’m not getting any younger.”
The doorbell echoed. Alfred looked at Bruce a moment longer, then rose and headed in to answer the door. Bruce turned his attention back to staring out at the courtyard, until the sound of familiar voices reached his ears. He glanced over his shoulder.
It was Dianne and Harvey, both bearing gifts. Harvey had an extra backpack slung over his black jacket, his blond hair slicked back and a grin on his face. Dianne looked more reserved—healthy and relatively unharmed, even relaxed in a baggy white sweater and striped tights. There was a pensive, haunted light in her brown eyes, but when she saw Bruce, she lit up and straightened.
Bruce abandoned his dark mood at the sight of them.
“I can’t believe you’re already back on your feet!” Harvey exclaimed, grabbing Bruce’s outstretched hand and pulling him in for a hug. He patted Bruce a little too hard, making him wince and laugh. “I heard one of the SWAT team members ended up fighting it out on the roof with the Wallace siblings—heard that you had something to do with helping the police find a way into the building. It’s all such a mess; no one’s really sure what happened? But hell, I’d be spending the rest of the month in bed, streaming movies and polishing off pizzas.”
Bruce pulled away and turned to embrace Dianne. “Well, considering you actually survived being a hostage,” he said, “I don’t have much of an excuse.”
Dianne wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. “Thank you, Bruce,” she said. “I don’t know if I’d be here right now if you hadn’t helped the police.”
Bruce closed his eyes and hugged her back. She didn’t seem to know that he was the one behind the black helmet, that he had been there on the balcony with her, had seen her frightened face. It all seemed so surreal. “Glad you came over,” he replied.
“The police don’t quite know what to do about you, you know,” Dianne said as they settled into chairs beside him. Alfred brought out more eggs and toast, and two more mugs of coffee. “The news reported this morning that the Nightwalkers broke you out of jail to force you to give up your account passwords.”