Legend

Work went better the next day since I wasn't operating a fog of tiredness. Hestia had indeed slept on Damian's bed. I smirked when I went up before going to work. Poor boy was tired, but he could rest. A small desk, computer, and desk chair had been delivered to the lab, and I moved it into a corner, the only clear space for it. But not to fear for Madison; one of the walls was the expansive windows that overlooked the city, so she shouldn't feel banished. When she showed up, we had a chat about her work days--Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after school, so she'd be leaving at the same time I did. HR had checked her references and she seemed like a good kid, but Tony was a little concerned about industrial espionage in all of his labs and a new camera was installed that specifically focused on her desk. Her computer access was restricted to what she needed to do her job, naturally, and like every computer except for maybe Tony's had tracking software installed. This provided protection for both the employee and the company.

Tony came down to discuss the preliminary data we had from our first tests using natural versus artificial light, then asked about my new idea. He nodded and told me to continue the research. "It's a real opportunity for you to put your stamp on the work," he said. "Besides, if I take charge you'll get dependent on me. I won't be around forever, you know."

"Did you get bad news at your physical?" I asked, worried. He'd bitched about his annual exam so much you'd thought they were actually going to take him apart and examine him inch by inch.

"No, I'm healthy as can be--for my age." He sighed, and with shock I noted that he was starting to look old. He usually hid it with his vitality and forceful personality. "But it's come to my attention that I'm going to have to cut back on Iron Man. I can't take as much G force as I used to, and there's only so much the suits can do." I nodded, remembering trying to compensate for Colonel Rhodes' injuries. "Pisses me off," he muttered, kicking the partners' desk.

"Cutting back on Iron Man doesn't mean that you have to stop leading the Avengers," I said.

"Couldn't if I wanted to, there's nobody who can take my place. Pete's learning how to run the business, he hasn't got time to learn how to run the Avengers too. Barnes is out of fieldwork anyway, and he's older than dirt, we need somebody younger. He still can't get over the Dodgers moving from Brooklyn." He snorted. "We need strong leadership now more than ever, with interstellar threats as well as the human idiots. It's just that I don't like this long slide into decrepitude."

I laughed, irritating him. "Bucky understands why the team was relocated," I said with affection. "He just doesn't like it. It's a sentimental thing for him. You're hardly decrepit," I told him with a measure of fond exasperation. Somehow Tony had achieved a measure of friendly affection. "You're just going to have to work smarter, not physically."

"I hate it when you're right," he said moodily. We sat across from each other at the enormous desk and chatted awhile. He wasn't unguarded, he never let down his guard completely as far as I knew, but he did relax more than I'd ever seen him. We talked science for awhile, both our projects as well as other stuff, and some slightly more personal things as well. When he left for a meeting, he'd recovered his usual rocket-like momentum and I wondered if he had anybody just to talk to. Scuttlebutt said that he used to be attracted to Emma, but since she'd married my uncle, his interest had faded. Not in her cooking, though; he'd talked her into stocking his very own cookie jar, which he kept in his private office rather than the lab. And the three of them worked closely together in the business as well as the Avengers, but somehow I couldn't see him and Bucky just sitting down over beers, just shooting the shit. Or Emma, for that matter. She didn't just hang out much either. She almost always had a purpose. I shook my head and pulled out my knitting. I was making a light sweater, nothing really complicated, but I found it helped to keep my hands busy while my mind thought about other plans.

I took a break to order some bioluminescent bacteria and the components to start experimenting and sketched out a preliminary design for the testing environment. I let my mind wander around work stuff, and I wondered why I didn't have a cookie jar. I'd stack Alfred's cookies against Emma's any day. Maybe I'd ask him this evening if I could bring some to work, but I didn't want to make more work for him. How he got everything done each day I had no idea. Or, alternatively, I could make my own cookies. I was getting lazy and entitled, living in the mansion.

Still, I cut out a little early, anxious to go home and see Damian. He hadn't been much better this morning and I was getting worried and ready to take him back to the doctor. But when I got home, he was feeling some better, enough to have taken a picture of a little planting area in the center of the conservatory and email it to a local nursery.

"They said that the little palm that's in that area isn't in very good shape and we could take it out," he said, then coughed, but it didn't sound as bad to my anxious ears. "I got to thinking about a garden, though...." and he showed me a sketch he'd made.

"Wow," I said appreciatively. "I had no idea you were so skilled with a pencil, honey." He'd done a lovely little drawing with rosemary and lavender bushes in the center, sage, varieties of thyme and basil, parsley, lemongrass, dill, cilantro, fennel, tarragon, chamomile, chervil, winter savory, oregano, bergamot, chives, and a couple of pots of mint and catnip, he said, because they were invasive and he didn't want them to take over the whole conservatory. Aloe vera. "Maybe some other things if Alfred wants them," he said, pleased at my praise. "I thought that if I felt better, this weekend we could got to a nursery and pick out some plants." He snuggled into me.

We talked about that; I liked the idea. I got a surprise; we took the elevator and he came down to dinner with me. I tried not to fuss too much but made him wear his warmest robe. It could be drafty sometimes. Dick was glad to see him up and around and gave him an unselfconscious hug. Barbara ruffled his hair, and Bruce was pleased to see so many around the table. Alfred had made a delicious dinner of easily-digested foods centered around chicken and rice with a nice sauce, not too rich. I sighed with contentment when Alfred served the coffee in the library. Damian smiled at his cup of chamomile.

"Coffee is for the weak," he jabbed at me. His father rolled his eyes.

"I'm not the one drinking hot flower water, pal," I said, and enjoyed the rich taste of the coffee. Damian shook his head with pity, then squeezed my hand. Dick made a gagging noise.

"It's like he never grew up," Barbara said, looking heavenward. "Oh, Alex, you had a couple of holds come in at the library, so I just brought them home for you."

"Oh, thank you," I said. "I don't want to add to your work, though."

"No problem," she assured me easily. "It's not a bit out of my way. So, gardening?" We told her about the conservatory, and Damian had the specifics about the kitchen garden. Alfred was really pleased at the thought, and had suggestions of his own. Dick offered to help me take out the sickly palm, and Bruce jumped in on that too. They seemed to think it was going to be easy to remove it, but I wasn't so sure; it had had decades to get settled in. Mom liked gardens at our house in Pennsylvania before the water quality got so bad, and I knew that it was hard work to prepare the site and get things established. It was a lot easier to keep a garden up. Everybody was interested in the revivification of the conservatory and had ideas of varying complexity. Then Dick got really ambitious and said that we should plant gardens outside, too. I put my foot down and told him how much work it was to get the grass up and create the beds before the fun could begin, and he wilted a bit.

"We could always have some landscapers come in and prepare the flowerbeds," Bruce said thoughtfully. "Then the artistic ones among us could put the plants in position and we could all plant them." Everybody seemed interested in that, and I thought it sounded like fun too, but we were all busy people, and I didn't know how much time we could all spend on the projects. Plus, the idea of the Batfamily. those prowlers of the night and smiters of evil, doing something so mundane as gardening together, in the broad sunlight, was somehow mindboggling. I kept my mouth shut, though. If nothing else, it captured everybody's imagination and it was fun to talk about.

After we'd enjoyed our after-dinner drinks and the party began to break up, I asked Alfred whether he'd mind if I invaded the kitchen some time. "Of course not, Miss Alex. May I ask why?"

"Everybody has their own stash of homemade cookies at work," I said. "And nobody shares with me. They're very selfish," I said bitterly. "So I thought I'd bring my own cookie jar. They'll be sorry." Damian started laughing, then sputtered to a cough.

"I can keep you supplied," Alfred said conspiratorially.

"I don't want to add another task," I said promptly. "As it is, I don't know how you get everything done. You're the Superman of butlers, superlative."

"I enjoy baking," he said serenely, although he looked pleased at the complement. "But perhaps you do as well. We could alternate, if you'd like." I liked that idea, and Alfred insisted on making the first batch for me. Bruce, who was looking on benevolently, started.

"I forgot," he said. "We're going to have some more visitors for a few days. Some of the Justice League will be convening here to discuss that data on the possible approach of the Kree and Skrulls. I've been in touch with Stark," he said to me. "We decided that each of our groups would form a preliminary plan, then we'd meet, hash out a unified preliminary plan, then alert the other heroes for the larger group discussion. The government will be making its own plans, assessing its own needs, then we'll meet to mesh our plans. Cut out some meetings that way, streamline the process."

"I'm glad I'm not a hero," I said, shuddering. "That is way too many meetings."

"You're not wrong," he agreed, then we saw Damian shiver and I hustled him upstairs, not wanting him to overexert himself; I thought he'd spent too much time up but I didn't nag him, though. He was really bright, he'd figure it out. I got him tucked into bed nonpunitively, gave him his medication, and sat with him until he dozed off, Grayson by his side. He really enjoyed having the pets; he seemed soothed by them. I'd bring home more, but I didn't want to clean up after a herd of cats and dogs. I eased out of my chair, turned off the lights, and left the door open a bit so the pets could come and go.

After that, Damian started to make a rapid recovery, to the relief of all, especially Damian himself. A couple days later, as I was going out the door for work, Alfred handed me a big heavy bag, smiled serenely, and wished me a productive day. At my side of the desk, I unwrapped the tissue to find a very generously-sized ceramic novelty cookie jar in the image of the Death Star that was filled with sugar cookies and peanut butter cookies that had Hershey's kisses stuck in the center. "Wow," I muttered through a mouthful. Psychically alerted to the presence of baked goods in the tower, Tony materialized at the desk and grabbed a handful of cookies.

"I need a butler/baker," he said after inhaling a couple.

"It's handy," I said, letting him replenish his supply before putting the lid on the jar. Where was I going to be able to hide it? "It's hard for an AI to bake." He nodded and took off again. Hiding it wasn't going to be easy, what with the camera footage that Tony could review. The big drawer in my desk would do for now, but the lock wasn't even a lighthearted challenge for the lockpicking skills of people throughout the tower. Every time I went past the cabinets closest to the door, I nudged the camera just slightly, and by the end of the day I felt that I'd shifted it enough for it not to be clear that I had put the Death Star in the lower cabinet behind jars of nutrients for the hydroponics system. There had been three shelves there, but the jars were so big I'd taken one out and left it on top of the bottom shelf. I used this to create a false back and hid the cookie jar. Not easily accessible, and this was both good and bad. I'd left a small pile of cookies to snack on; it wouldn't do to go to the well too often.

To my surprise and pleasure, Aslyn showed up that afternoon with an important analysis of attempted hacks on the tower system for Tony, and she saw the cookies with equal pleasure. "I might have to come up here more often," she said around a bite. "Not that I'm not glad to see you too," she added generously, and I laughed. We talked for a bit; this was her biggest analysis to date and she hoped it would help her chance of promotion. "My boss is retiring soon," she said. "I want his job."

"Good luck," I said. "You'll be awesome." And we tapped our cookies together.

Tony bustled in. "Where's the cookie jar?" he asked, looking around.

"Hidden. Otherwise they'll be eaten too fast." Tony protested, and we had to negotiate a daily appearance for the Cookie Star. I motioned for Aslyn to put the report on the desk; Tony hates being handed things.

"Why the hard copy?" he asked, frowning, and Aslyn said something in computer speak that went over my head. Tony leafed through the report, pausing on key pages, then towed her out the door to discuss the report with the higher ups as as well as to determine what was going on with the computer system. Madison came in as they were leaving, and I gave her a list of tasks for after she checked email and all.

My last deviation from routine that day was an email from Dr Reynaud, who'd heard about my new work from Bruce. He congratulated me on the topic of my research and had the email addresses for a couple of international groups who were pursuing similar research. Maybe there'd be some opportunities for collaboration later. And attached was an invitation to his retirement party. I RSVP'ed immediately.

I was on the road home when Detective McIver called. "We've had some news," he said after the briefest of greetings. "I believe that there is enough credible evidence to suggest that the Joker is back in the city or that his return is imminent. I'm not at liberty to discuss my sources or the details of the information, but there's enough of it to tell me that the threat is real. You need to be careful."