Sentiments

Avery walked up to take the suitcase from his father's hand, giving Dick a friendly smile as he passed. Over the last few days, Dick had often gravitated toward him, and Avery had grown quite fond of the curious boy. Their relationship had notably progressed, moving beyond polite smiles to a more genuine bond, marked by Avery's warm, natural smile.

"Sliding down the banister again?" Avery remarked knowingly, ruffling Dick's hair before the boy could look too crestfallen. "Go wash up; we'll eat soon."

"I know." Dick immediately dashed off.

Meanwhile, Avery turned his head to Alfred. "You should've told me you were coming back; I would've picked you up from the airport."

Alfred waved it off. "I'm not so old as to need that yet. I can still manage a small suitcase."

As he spoke, Alfred's gaze lingered briefly on the faint mark peeking from his son's neck, surprised to find evidence of such things on someone typically so reserved. He didn't press the issue, assuming Avery, as a young man, was simply dating some nice young lady.

Of course, if Alfred had X-ray vision, he might have noticed the far more extensive marks scattered across his son's back. But in reality, Alfred knew nothing about how his two young kids had managed to become so "close" during his absence.

Soon after, the renovations on Wayne Manor were finally complete. The furniture was set, and it was ready for the family to move back in.

With warm thanks and a wave to the Drakes, their neighbors, they returned to Wayne Manor.

Batman looked upon his long-unseen Batcave and the swarm of bats that hung from its ceiling, his expression satisfied.

That year's New Year's celebration was unusually lively, with the newly expanded Wayne family coming together like never before.

Dick, never a shy child, he quickly warmed up to everyone in the family and soon revealed his cheerful nature. Though just at the age when kids can be insufferable, his genuinely considerate personality endeared him to Alfred, who soon grew very fond of his "grandson."

Meanwhile, a new district attorney arrived in Gotham, a man named Harvey.

...

The first time Avery entered the Batcave, he joked that Batman and his employer, Bruce Wayne, were basically upstairs-downstairs neighbors.

Batman, however, didn't find the joke very funny. While adjusting the newly installed equipment, he also instructed his butler to feed the little creatures hanging from the cave's ceiling.

To be fair, these bats had proven themselves resilient. The fire at Wayne Manor had melted most of the equipment in the Batcave, but the bats hadn't perished like the machines. Remarkably, they'd survived to this day. While some were indeed turned into roasted bats, their toughness was undeniable.

Avery grumbled, "It's already enough trouble feeding you—why do I have to feed the bats too?"

Batman wasn't thrilled with Avery's choice of words but kept his expression neutral. Feed? Really? What a choice of words.

Nonetheless, he dutifully went about feeding these unsightly little creatures. Watching the bats jostle for food, Avery took a quick look around and felt an unexpected concern creeping in.

"Science tells us bats carry over four thousand viruses," Avery remarked with a sigh. "So, tell me, Master Bruce—how did you end up choosing these as your roommates?"

His voice echoed through the spacious cave.

"Also, have you ever considered that, while you may be 'Batman,' you're still just a human?"

Avery paused, glancing around. "And this cave's environment…" He couldn't help but think that prolonged exposure might actually bring on rheumatism.

The thought alone made him want to sigh.

In Avery's view, Batman wasn't a particularly wise occupation. Pouring vast sums into high-tech equipment only to fight a thankless, loss-making vigilante fight? Well, that was one thing. People had their own callings. But even more concerning was that Gotham's criminals would never go easy on him.

When Avery had first returned to Gotham and seen Bruce, he'd been alarmed by the many latent injuries Bruce carried—ones that, when he got older, would ache on every cold or rainy day.

Seeing him like this, Avery's first reaction was shock, but even more, he worried that if Bruce kept this up, he might end up paying the ultimate price one day.

Avery was exasperated by his friend's stubbornness but couldn't just leave him be. So, he put effort into treating all of Bruce's injuries. This led to a curious development: Gotham's criminals began whispering that Batman seemed somehow different lately. The punches still packed the same punch, but his movements seemed almost… quicker.

But I can't always be by your side! Someday, I'll have to leave.

Avery couldn't help thinking.

Batman, unaware that his butler was contemplating an eventual escape, continued his tasks, calmly responding, "I get vaccinated regularly."

To Avery, vaccines were more of a psychological comfort; there's no guarantee they would keep disease entirely at bay. His magic, on the other hand, was far more reliable, allowing injuries to heal without the need for rest.

With this advantage, though, Batman's actions had only become more reckless.

This brought Avery back to the nagging thought—he couldn't stay in Gotham forever, yet Bruce's actions made it difficult for him to feel at ease about leaving.

Batman, sensing the shift in mood during Avery's silence, happened to finish tuning the equipment at that moment. He put down his tools, grabbed a towel to dry his hands, and walked over to where Avery was standing. Then, reaching out, he wrapped his arms around him.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

The gesture was intimate, the tone was intimate, but unfortunately, the Batcave wasn't exactly the ideal place for such exchanges. At that moment, the bats overhead made a restless rustling, prompting Avery to feel a bit of relief. He thought it might be fortunate that their area was somewhat separated—otherwise, what if one of those bats decided to relieve itself mid-conversation?