FIRST BLOOD - Alfred and Selina

Alfred was prepared for a certain level of brass from the girl, effrontery employed as a parting shot to retain her dignity. Surely the abuse inflicted upon her by the butler’s own hand would not go unchallenged, even if all Selina could manage before retreating was some hasty advice about how Alfred Pennyworth could promptly go fellate himself. She was cunning and irreverent, an expert in the sport of disparaging every ounce of propriety and decorum Bruce Wayne’s guardian respected or possessed. Prior interactions suggested he could count on Selina to pass judgment on his literal slap to her face, even as he was left smugly satisfied that he’d stunned her mostly into silence.

What Alfred grossly miscalculated, however, was just how eloquently Selina would go for the jugular. Her articulate condemnation of his failings, even if not wholly deserved, revealed a depth of seasoned observation that Alfred had only heard expressed from one other child in his experience - Bruce Wayne himself. There were far too many hardships packed into Selina’s young life for the girl to enthusiastically comply with all the rules governing the world Bruce represented. That world had rejected and abandoned her, deeming her as forgettable as the trash and filth soiling Gotham’s crime-ridden streets.

You think you’re the first grown man to strike me? You’re not—though you might be the oldest…

The pickpocket’s sobering commentary on her violent reality, a stark contrast to Bruce Wayne’s uptown lifestyle, struck a nerve with the older man. He’d allowed his temper to go unchecked, repeated the sins of his own father and countless abusers of Gotham, sought to discipline Selina in the only way he’d understood when it came to dealing out punishment for her insubordination. His upbringing, his military experience, his life on the streets of Whitechapel before Thomas Wayne’s influence planted him on the road toward redemption and civilization, had reared their ugly heads in a moment of rage and disgust.

But Reggie’s life had been Alfred’s to take or spare, damn it all. Selina needed to understand that, needed to be taught that lesson. And Bruce’s safety was his responsibility.

Look after him, Alfred. The safety of our son is your highest priority, now.
Of course, Thomas. My life for his, should it ever come to that. You have my word.
We know, Alfred. As a soldier, and as a gentleman, you’re a man of your word.

Selina Kyle had no such hero in her life, no reliable parental figure vowing protection and shelter for the girl who had to fight over scraps against Gotham’s worst offenders just to see another sunrise. Alfred wasn’t privy to the horrifying details of the many ordeals she had survived, yet he was suddenly overcome with shame for his lack of self restraint. An unexpected wave of revulsion climbed the length of his spine, twisting his gut until he thought he might be physically sick right where he stood. He rather preferred to not be remembered for that sort of undignified reaction, especially not in the idyllic gardens of Wayne Manor.

Yes, Selina Kyle had killed Reggie Payne. And yes, Alfred’s old instincts prompted him to pronounce an immediate sentence upon his old friend’s murderer. But she was also still a child. Just a bloody child.

But you need to keep him on the right side of the tracks. You need to keep him out of the shadows.
Take care of him, Mr. Pennyworth.

“Selina, stop.” Just as the girl started to turn away, Alfred was calling her back.

Stepping cautiously toward her, Alfred composed himself by readjusting his cufflinks, wary blue eyes momentarily downcast. The constant attention to his cuffs was both a characteristic of his meticulous nature and a holdover from years of service to Her Majesty - Mr. Yes Sir, No Sir, Mr. Queensberry Rules and Discipline, as Reggie had called him just days earlier. The action also served as a sort of distraction whenever Alfred needed to quickly collect his thoughts without discovery, a sort of rapid meditation to calm his nerves or conceal discomfort.

“Far be it for me to…condone the actions of those who have caused you injury when it wasn’t warranted, Miss Kyle.” Issuing a mea culpa was always uncomfortable business. Alfred wasn’t properly apologizing for striking her, but he didn’t believe it necessary to beg for her forgiveness in the moment, either. He also hoped she wouldn’t notice the grimace of pain after he’d slapped her, the force of his movement straining his abdomen. Perhaps one day soon, sometime in the future, he could muster an apology. Perhaps they could both find ways to admit to one another and to themselves, that they were essentially fighting on the same side.

One day.

“Now, it is true that Master Bruce initially took it upon himself to find Reggie, based on a comment I’d made about where the bastard might be holed up.” A hint of agitation flickered in his eyes as Alfred conceded his error, a misstep he intensely disliked admitting to that troublemaking little minx. “His selective hearing is a bit maddening at times.”

Alfred’s fingers ceased their fussing with his cufflinks, arms straightening at his sides. “But it’s also my understanding that Bruce wasn’t looking in the right place, because he misunderstood what I meant by shooting gallery, isn’t that right?”

He took up the familiar posture of folding his arms behind him, hands loosely clasped at the small of his back. “Now, not to underestimate the boy’s undeniable intelligence and infuriating tenacity, but he might well have spent the day only searching the city’s gun ranges before giving up and coming home, leaving Reggie properly to me once I was on my feet again.”

Lowering his chin, Alfred eyed her with the stern judgment of a father lecturing a child for sending a baseball through a plate glass window. “Point being, Selina, it’s very likely Bruce only found Reggie when he did because you pointed the way. And yes, he is good, as you stated, full of natural compassion, that boy is. But there’s also something deeper there, Selina. Something he’ll have to face eventually, but he’s not ready for that. Not yet.”

A shadow of profound melancholy darkened Alfred’s pale features but for a fleeting moment. Clearly the very idea of Bruce facing down all of life’s horrors and dangerous lessons before he could make better sense of it all filled Alfred with dread and genuine sadness. A time would arrive when it was all a necessary evil, the balance required for the man Bruce was to become. But Alfred had made a promise to Thomas that he fully intended to keep.

When he’s ready. Until then, keep him safe.

Alfred regarded Selina with intense study, meaning to hold her gaze, making an effort to convey his worry for Bruce was not unlike her own.

“You want me to keep him out of the shadows. That’s precisely what I’m attempting to do, Miss Kyle. And all of this business, this obsession, the scampering about searching for clues to murders and secret societies, it needs to stop. Whatever it all leads to, that too could break him, if he keeps obsessing over it and pursuing it before he’s properly able to shoulder all of the burden he’s meant to carry.” His eyes then dropped to her jacket, a single nod of his head offered in reference to the envelope she had hidden beneath the leather.

“That’s why I also agree that handing the matter over to Jim Gordon is indeed the best course of action.” Alfred had no qualms about admitting that much; he was only annoyed that he hadn’t suggested it first. “Gordon gave his word to Master Bruce. The more concrete leads he has to go on, the better.”

One more shadow crossed Alfred’s brow as he spoke in Reggie’s memory. “It doesn’t matter what ole Reg was like in the end. The Reggie I knew died years ago. I wouldn’t expect you to possibly understand the code you violated when you pushed what was left out that window, Selina. But he died for whatever that envelope leads to. Let Gordon handle it. With any luck, Bruce will let it go.”