Chapter 1
It had been almost two months since Paris. Clint, healed and back in his element, stood behind a young woman teaching her archery while her father worked on the weight machine—well, he was talking into his earbud while working out.
“Is he always like this, Kate?” Clint asked, giving her father a look before returning his attention to his pupil.
The brown-haired girl—turning thirteen next week as she had proudly announced on her weekly arrival—nodded, her focus on the target. “He thinks we’re bonding,” she stated. Clint watched her shoulders drop as she steadied her breathing, then let the arrow fly. It hit the edge of the bulls-eye circle.
“Oh my God! I hit the bulls-eye!” She turned, bouncing in place and looking up at Clint. “I did it!”
“Yeah, you did.” Clint gave the girl a high-five, then motioned over to her father. “Go tell him.”
Kate looked at her dad, then shook her head. “He won’t care.”
“Well, then give me your phone so I can take a picture for you to send to your friends.”
Squealing in delight, Kate handed her glittery phone over and Clint smiled as the girl struck a pose next to her arrow. He took a few just to keep from getting one of her blinking. “You have fun adding your filters.”
“Thanks, Clint.” She came back and looked at the pictures, the grin so big Clint wondered if it was hurting her face. “Can I try for a second one?”
Before Clint could answer, her father stood up. “Sorry, Katie, there’s a situation I have to deal with. Grab your things.”
Kate deflated, but obediently slid her phone into her backpack and picked it up. “Yes, daddy.”
Clint walked them to the door where a limo sat parked. A butler opened the back door, waiting patiently. Kate gave Clint another high-five as she ran out. “See you next week, Katie Kate!”
Mr. Bishop met Clint at the door and handed him an envelope with cash. “She’s improving. Normally she doesn’t pay attention to any of her tutors.”
“She’s a good kid with a lot of potential. With hard work, she might even become better than me.” Clint took the envelope but didn’t count it. He had researched the kind of man Mr. Bishop was, and the only reason Clint let him into the gym was that Kate needed someone to focus on her. He wanted to tell her father how he should show more interest in her, but the first time he did that ended with a shoulder squeeze that almost dislocated it.
“Same time next week?”
“I’ll be here.”
Clint watched them drive off, then headed back to clean up the archery station. He was almost finished when the bell over the front door rang. “Welcome to Grayson Cross-Fit,” he said, turning his head just enough to see who had entered.
“It’s still so weird to see you two doing this.” Jason Todd stood by the door, looking around at the gym. It wasn’t his first time coming to the gym—in fact, Clint had Jason come spar with him a few times during his recovery. Ric did as well, but Clint knew most of Ric’s moves. While their sparring became predictable, Jason brought a different set of fighting techniques that kept Clint on his toes.
Plus, they sparred with nerf guns as a weapon. When everything was over, they laid on the mats with dozens of nerf bullets around them, unable to breathe because they were laughing too hard. Each time, Clint wanted to tell Jason about his secret—how they were brothers by adoption—but he just couldn’t. He worried that Jason would get pissed at not being told sooner, and their relationship would change as a result.
Clint couldn’t lose Jason. While yes, Ric was Clint’s best friend and they got along as they always did, Ric wasn’t Dick. Clint missed him more as each week passed and it seemed like the amnesia would be permanent. Everything that Clint had with Jason was original—both past and present times—and there was a shared understanding between them since they had similar abusive upbringings.
“You’re just jealous,” Clint quipped, grabbing the cleaning spray and heading for the weight machine.
“Of this place? As if.” Jason hesitated at the doorway, not coming further into the room. “Where’s Grayson?”
“He’s working the dinner line with Bea at the shelter.” Ric spent a lot of time with Bea these days, leaving Clint alone with the business and the warehouse. Now that he was recovered from his injuries, Clint debated on grabbing a Nightwing suit of his own and starting to patrol the Haven with the others.
Jason gave a curt nod, then turned the lock on the front door and flipped the sign to closed. “We need to talk.”
Alarms went off in his head, joined in a moment later from his watch buzzing to tell him someone entered the back door in the living quarters. “Who else is here?” Clint asked as he made for the door separating the business from his home.
Bruce Wayne stood in the living room in jeans and a sweatshirt. He looked beaten to hell, and his face was dark, exhaustion coloring every inch of him. “Clint.”
Jason was right behind Clint, and he suddenly felt trapped. “What’s going on here?” he asked, his voice a soft growl while evaluating the situation.
“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Bruce said. “You might want to sit down.”
“No, I’m fine right here.” Clint looked at Jason, who dropped his eyes to the floor and looked away. The warning bells in his head grew louder, and he turned back to face Bruce full on. “What do you need to tell me?”
Bruce took a deep breath, and Clint saw the edges of his father’s eyes water. “It’s Alfred.”
The remorse in Bruce’s voice cut through all the tension in Clint. He felt his body go limp, shoulders dropping out of his defensive position, his legs struggling to keep him upright. “Alfred?”
“He’s dead, Clint.”
Bruce continued to speak, but it was like Clint’s hearing aids turned themselves off. He saw Bruce’s lips moving, but he couldn’t hear anything. Instead, his voice echoed through his head—he’s dead. Alfred’s dead—until Clint’s legs finally gave way and he fell to his knees.
His vision clouded, the world wavering like it was underwater. Where had the water come from? As tears started to stream down his face, Clint realized they were his own.
There was a hand on his back and a warm presence at his side. Clint turned to see Jason there, his own eyes wet with tears and a grim determination on his face. Jason knew more. Jason knew who had killed Alfred—because someone had to do it. Alfred would have told them if he was sick.
“Who do I have to kill?” Clint finally asked, his eyes locking on Bruce’s. Screw the bat rule—this was Alfred! Whoever did this needed to pay.
Bruce knelt in front of Clint and placed a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “It’s already been taken care of,” Bruce stated, and Clint knew what that meant. The person was alive but had felt Batman’s wrath before being locked up in a dark corner of Arkham.
Clint felt Jason’s hand bunch up the shirt on his back, and he knew Jason was more on Clint’s side of justice in this instance. It wasn’t a big surprise. Clint leaned into his brother more, and without hesitation, Jason shifted to hold Clint.
“So now what?” The numbness started to fill him, the conditioned dissonance from the situation that allowed him to focus during missions.
“There’s going to be a memorial for him in a few days. I’d like you to come, and to bring Ric.”
“He doesn’t remember Alfred,” Clint stated. “He won’t know what to do with himself there.”
Bruce nodded. “I know, but… when he gets his memories back, he’ll hate himself if he wasn’t there.”
“Goldie and Alfred had a bond none of the rest of us had,” Jason added. “It might not be a big comfort, but at least he can tell himself he was there.”
Clint thought about it then nodded. “You’re right. I’ll bring him.”
“I’ll text you all the date and time when things are finalized.” Bruce stood back up. “But if you need anything…”
“We’ll be fine,” Clint said. “I’ll see you at the funeral.”
“Memorial,” Bruce corrected. “We already buried him.”
Clint just closed his eyes. “Right, of course.”
He heard Bruce’s boots walk away, and only when the door opened and closed did Clint let his hands fist. “Alfred wasn’t supposed to die. Not like this.”
“Tell me about it.” Jason shifted to stand, pulling Clint up with him. “Come on, let’s go find someone to hit.”
Clint looked over at his Hawkeye gear and nodded. “I’ll change. You pull down the gate outside.” He didn’t wait for an answer as he picked up his body armor and walked to his bedroom area.