Summary: Alfred turns Mooky! Contains m/m implications. Rated PG. 

Disclaimer: Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson and Gotham are
copyrighted to DC and I'm only borrowing them for the purposes of this story.
Gerard is my creation; please do not use him without contacting me first.
Archival requests must be sent to me first. Do not MST or Pop-Up without
asking. This is dedicated to KayJay, who put this idea into my head and for
creating a place where Mooks can live happily ever after. Though this is a
slash story, there is no sex in it, so the only thing that'll prevent you from
reading it would be your own personal preferences towards slash.


A Healing Kind of Grief
by Trisha L. Sebastian


Bruce Wayne looked around at the sound of the phone ringing. He was in his
study, looking over the financial reports that Lucius was kind enough to send
to him. No one knew for sure whether or not the multi-millionaire read them,
but Lucius sent them anyway. He looked at his phone with its myriad of
buttons. One of them was flashing, so he took that as a sign that he should
press it before picking up the receiver. "Wayne Manor." 

//Oh, hello. I was wondering if Mr. Pennyworth is residing at this number?//
The male voice on the other end was cultured, with a faint accent that made
Bruce think about eating crepes on the French Riviera. 

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Pennyworth is not available right now. Can I take a
message?" Bruce searched in his desk for a pen and a piece of paper. 

//Do tell Mr. Pennyworth that a friend of his from the theater called. His call
time is at 7:30 tonight, and he is to bring the appropriate accessories.// 

Bruce raised his eyebrows, but carefully wrote the message down, underlining
the parts about the theater and the accessories. "Is there a name I can leave
with this message, sir?" 

//Mr. Pennyworth knows who it is.// The phone clicked off rather definitely,
and the receiver hummed with the sound of the dial tone. Bruce looked at the
message and its contents. He didn't know that Alfred was involved in
community theater. How would he have found the time with all the duties
that were involved in taking care of the Wayne household and its master? Not
that he didn't want his good friend and butler to have free time. But taking
care of the house of the world's greatest detective was a full time job in
itself. 

Bruce could have traced the call, even with the brief amount of time the caller
was on the line. He was also very adept at cracking secret codes and
messages. However, he decided to take the direct approach and talk to his
butler instead. 

He found Alfred in the gardens, taking his ritualistic tea and scones among
the roses. He was reading the London Times and listening to a portable radio
playing a jaunty little string quartet piece by Mozart. If it weren't for the fact that Bruce could see the dingy jutting Gotham City skyline in the background, he would have sworn that he was in the English countryside. Bruce cleared his throat. 

"Yes, Master Bruce? What is it?" 

"A man called while you were taking your tea." Bruce handed over the
message, then stepped back to observe his butler's reaction. 

Alfred nodded while reading the message, then placed it carefully in the
inside pocket of his coat. He picked up his paper again and recommenced his
reading. 

Bruce cleared his throat again. "Aren't you going to say anything?" 

Alfred put the paper down. "About what, sir?" 

"About the message." Bruce waited about two seconds. "I didn't know you
were involved in community theater." 

"I'm not." Alfred twisted his wrist watch slightly, then rose from his chair. "As it is almost five o'clock, I will need only fifteen minutes to clear out my tea tray before resuming work. Will you be needing my assistance tonight?" 

Bruce shook his head. "I'm taking Dick out again. The boy still needs to work
on his surveillance techniques." 

"Very good, sir." Bruce stepped aside to let the older man pass, before
entering the house himself. He watched thoughtfully as Alfred crossed into
the foyer, then shook himself from his ruminations. Whatever his butler was
up to, Bruce knew that he shouldn't intrude. He told this to himself several
times as he suited up for his night's work. 

^_^ 

At 7:10, Alfred Pennyworth opened the door to the car and stepped out in
front of the old abandoned movie theater on the corner of K and Leigh Street.
A faded marquee proclaimed that "The African Queen" was back for a limited
engagement. Katherine Hepburn's eyes drooped sadly from a water-stained
poster. Alfred checked all of the approaches to the building, then squared his
shoulders and opened the front door. 

Cobwebs festooned the lobby, and as Alfred turned his flashlight on, a rat
scurried away, chittering a rebuke at him. He played his light over all of the
decaying surfaces until he spied a door marked "Employees Only". Opening it,
he found the stairs leading to the projection room. Each step he took made
him shudder, as it almost felt like the whole building was going to come down
around his ears. If he was going to be ambushed, the stairs would be the
perfect place to do so. 

He let out a sigh of relief as he reached the top stair, and opened the door. A
cloud of dust greeted him and he stepped back in surprise. Strong arms
encircled around him, pulling him to one side and turning him around. 

Alfred broke free from the embrace and dropped into a defensive position. A
low throaty laugh came from the shadows. "After all this time, the best I get
is a karate stance? I'd have figured you'd use the jujitsu." 

Alfred straightened up when he heard that French-tinged voice. "A gentleman
never injures his guests." He held out his hands, and a man with chocolate
colored skin and light eyes stepped forward. "Gerard." 

"Alfred." Gerard nodded at Alfred, before giving him a hearty hug. "It's been
forever since I've seen you. Why have you never called?" 

"I didn't have your number," he replied. "It was classified." 

"Oh dear," he said, his hand covering a smile. "I'd forgotten about that."
Gerard stepped back and looked him up and down. "You're looking much
better. Retirement has agreed with you." 

"It is not without its own excitement," Alfred said with a smile. "How long are
you going to be in town?" 

"Only a day or two. Stop over between duties." Gerard gave him a smile that
held both notes of angelicness and deviltry. "Care to take an old friend for a
night on the town? Show me what Gotham has to offer?" 

Alfred smiled back, a twinkle in his eye. "What would Angela say?" 

"Nothing. She's dead." 

His eyes widened, and Alfred reached out to grasp Gerard's hands. "How
long?" 

"A month or two. I just found out a week ago." His eyes grew sad. "You know
it would have been our thirty-fifth anniversary today..." 

"I remember." Alfred looked into his friend's eyes and squeezed his hands.
"You met on a job--" 

"She was your partner." 

"We thought you were the enemy." 

"I thought the same." 

"The Russians found all three of us." 

"We barely escaped with our lives." 

"She fell in love with you at first sight." 

"She was your best friend." 

They stood like that, at arm's length, just looking at each other and
remembering. Alfred's heart was heavy. He should have known that Gerard
would not have come all the way from France for a friendly visit. He was never
like that. He was much more serious about business than Angela was. It was
the reason why he was still in the game even after other men of his
acquaintance had long since quit. Alfred felt him start to shake. 

"It's all my fault." Alfred watched as Gerard's eyes started to fill with tears.
"She'd had an 'incident' about six months back. A slight health scare. I didn't'
think anything was wrong. She said she was fine. And there was this one job,
one that was perfect for our talents." He shook his head. "I never should have
taken it." 

"No... no, Gerard." Alfred gathered him into his arms at this point, rocking him
gently. "Angela knew the dangers as well as you did, even more so. It was
why you made the perfect team." Alfred held him as he cried and after he'd
purged his grief, he stepped back, and watched with satisfaction as Gerard
gathered himself and slipped his "game face" back on. 

"So, my friend," he started, a teasing smile on his face. "Where can a
gentleman get a decent bite to eat around here?" 

"Depends on the gentleman," Alfred quipped. "But seeing as it's an old friend,
I'll not take you to McBurgers." Clapping him on the back, he escorted Gerard
out of the theater. 

^_- 

They found themselves at a little Mom-n-Pop restaurant on the outskirts of
the city. It was a place that neither of the men would have caught
themselves dead in. Only truck drivers and down-on-their luck moms
frequented the establishment. It was perfect. 

Gerard looked down at his plate in astonishment. "And this is what they call a
hearty meal in America? I expect the cow this steak came from to waltz in
from the kitchen any minute and demand its rump back." 

Alfred cut heartily into his greasy fried chicken. "It's better than the food we
had in Akbar." He set his knife down and speared a piece of chicken with the
fork, dunking it in the gravy before taking a bite. He shuddered. "Absolutely
horrid." 

"I didn't see you complaining too much," Gerard rebutted, reaching for the salt
and pepper. "I thought Angela was going to choke when she saw you eat
that... that..." 

"Inedible slime that passed for food?" Alfred regarded the next piece of meat
on his fork with intense scrutiny, then dunked it into the blob of ketchup on
his plate. "I'll be honest and tell you that it passed, rather quickly, later on
that night." 

Gerard started to laugh, his melodic tones drifting high above them, at odds
with their surroundings. "My, Alfred. You're getting rather un-stodgy in your
old age." 

Alfred smiled. "It is all the influence of young Master Dick." He folded his
hands in front of him. "It's a blessing to have him under my care." 

Gerard leaned forward. "You love the boy." 

"Of course I do. Just as I love working for Master Bruce." Gerard gave him a
knowing look, and Alfred sighed. "I could never fool you for very long." 

"To put it in today's vernacular, 'Never bullshit a bullshitter.'" Gerard leaned
back into the plastic cushion and sighed. "When did we get so old?" 

Alfred shrugged, pushing the peas around on his plate. "I miss it sometimes.
When Master Bruce and Master Dick are away at nights, I sometimes think
about my 'glory days' in London." 

"I've been thinking about that, too." Gerard's eyes twinkled. "Remember the
night we spent hiding in that bolthole near the Thames?" 

Alfred guffawed. "No TV, no communication with our superiors, no food--" 

"Unless you count that drek we had to find in the dumpster." 

"Angela asleep, wrapped up in our overcoats due to the chill from our
impromptu swim in the river..." 

"I do wish we hadn't have been gentlemen then," Gerard sighed. "It was very
cold that night." 

Alfred's eyes met Gerard's. "We found other ways to stay warm," he said
quietly. 

Gerard regarded the other man carefully. "Do you truly miss... everything?" 

Alfred was careful not to touch the other man, but looked into his eyes
intently. "Yes." 

A moment passed, then another. Finally Gerard spoke. "As I said, I won't be
in town for very long. Arrangements have to be made." His voice broke. "I
have to tell our kids." He paused, a glimmer of a tear in his eye. "Would you
mind taking me back to my hotel room?" 

"Not at all," Alfred said, signaling for the check. He paid, leaving a generous
tip for the tired waitress that served them, and the two friends made their
way out of the diner, to the hotel where Gerard was staying. 

*_* 

Alfred opened the door to the suite, continuing to listen to Gerard as he
spoke. "...about this that hurts the most is that I didn't know. Not for
months. They wouldn't tell me what happened to her. From my end, it went
perfectly. I did my part, got out. She was supposed to stay longer to maintain
the cover." He sniffled, wiping his hand across his eyes. "It's all my fault." 

"No, no Gerard," Alfred said, taking the other man by the shoulder and turning
him around to face him. Gerard broke down in tears again, ugly sobs that
made Alfred's heart rend. He hugged the other man to him and held him until
he stopped crying, making soothing noises of comfort and stroking his back. 

When Gerard stopped, Alfred tipped up his chin and looked into his dark
brown eyes. Gently and softly, he kissed the other man on the forehead. He
felt Gerard shiver, and reach around to embrace him. Alfred stroked the back
of Gerard's head, cradling it in his palm as he leaned down to kiss him on the
lips. 

Gerard responded in kind, his arms twining up to wrap around Alfred's neck,
holding on as if his life depended on it. The kiss deepened, and Alfred could
feel his friend's need rising. Gerard pulled away, looking into Alfred's eyes.
"What are you--" 

"Shhhh," Alfred said, putting a finger to Gerard's lips. Gerard gave out a small
cry, and kissed at Alfred's finger, licking at the first knuckle. He kissed all
over Alfred's palm, lingering on the skin at his wrist, finally cradling Alfred's warm hand against his cool cheek. 

"I'm lost without her," Gerard sighed, his voice worn with pain and grief. 

"Balderdash." 

"What?" 

Alfred adjusted his position, sitting down on the bed, gesturing for Gerard to
sit next to him. "Balderdash, poppycock, and all those other things people are
fond to attribute to the British. You are lost at the moment, but you will find
yourself again. It just takes time." 

Gerard nodded, then said with a twinkle in his eye. "No compassionate loving
from you right now, then?" 

Alfred laughed. "At the moment, no. I couldn't take advantage of you like
that." 

Gerard shoved him in the shoulder. "You've never been able to take
advantage of me." 

"Bangkok?" 

Gerard thought for a moment. "Point taken." He leaned over and kissed Alfred
on the lips again, a lingering, shaky kiss. "Would you still spend the night
with me?" 

"Absolutely." 

^_^ 

"Did you have a good evening, gentlemen?" Alfred asked, a breakfast tray in
his hands. He set down Dick's plate first, then Bruce's. 

Dick rubbed the back of his head. "Darn stone gargoyles." 

Bruce grinned. "What Dick's trying to say is that in his exuberance in tailing a
suspect, he forgot the number of overhangings on the Gotham Trust Building.
Went head first into the gargoyle on the northwest corner." Alfred winced in
sympathy. Bruce leaned forward. "And you?" 

"A quiet evening, sir. Thinking about old friends and old relationships." 

Bruce sat back, looking into his friend's face. He started to relax, his mind
fully at ease. Alfred would never purposely hide anything from him. He pierced
the eggs so that the yolk ran out over the hashbrowns. 

"Good." 


FIN