Alfred Pennyworth had survived wars, raised one billionaire vigilante, and outlived more Wayne family secrets than there were gargoyles on the manor roof.
What he had not survived particularly well was being old.
His knees ached. His back complained. And while he would never admit it out loud, the manor was⌠large. Very large. Too large for one dignified but increasingly creaky butler to handle alone.
So Alfred did the unthinkable.
Danny Fenton arrived at Wayne Manor with a single duffel bag, a rĂŠsumĂŠ that was mostly lies by omission, and the deeply ingrained habit of watching corners, shadows, and ceilings.
Runaway from Amity Park. Former hero. Current nobody.
Alfred took one look at the thin, tired teenager with old eyes and zero questions and said, calmly,
âYouâll do.â
Danny blinked. âYou⌠donât wanna know why Iâm here?â
Alfred smiled pleasantly. âMaster Wayneâs charitable foundation has a standing policy of not asking questions that invite complicated answers.â
Danny nodded immediately. âCool. I love that policy.â
Carrying boxes that definitely did not contain grappling guns
And, occasionally, standing very still and pretending he could not hear screaming from the cave beneath the manor
Alfred was very clear on one rule.
âIf you see something you shouldnât,â he said while polishing silverware that definitely had batarang-shaped nicks in it, âno, you didnât.â
Danny gave him a two-finger salute. âSir, I am a professional at not seeing things.â
He didnât see the armored boots vanishing down a hidden staircase.
He didnât hear the computer whirring under the grandfather clock.
He absolutely did not notice the cave full of military-grade equipment under the house.
Danny kept his head down. Alfred got his help.
Everyone except the Wayne kids.
Danny turned from the pantry to find a boy with dark hair and suspicious eyes staring at him like he was a puzzle missing pieces.
âUh. Danny. I work here.â
The boyâTim, as Alfred later introduced himâtilted his head. âWhy?â
Danny paused. ââŚMoney?â
That was the first red flag.
Down hallways.
Around corners.
Once, Danny turned around and Jason was just there, leaning against a wall like a haunted leather jacket.
âYouâre not normal,â Jason said.
Danny stared. âOkay?â
âAnd youâre not a fed.â
âAnd you flinch like someone whoâs been shot.â
Danny smiled thinly. âIâm clumsy and its Gotham.â
Jason snorted. âSure.â
Danny would look up from dusting a shelf and find Tim staring from the top of the stairs, notebook in hand.
Sometimes Tim wasnât even there physicallyâbut Danny could feel eyes.
Which was deeply unsettling when you were half-ghost.
Damian, at least, was honest.
âYou are hiding something,â the youngest Wayne said flatly while Danny carried a box of decorations. âI will discover what it is.â
Danny sighed. âKid, if you do, please keep it to yourself. Iâm tired.â
Damian narrowed his eyes. âSuspicious.â
They asked what errands he ran.
Why he knew the house so well.
Why Alfred trusted him.
Why he was calm when alarms went off.
Why he wasnât scared.
Danny snapped when he turned a corner and found all four of them standing there. Dick had shown up at somepoint and joined in.
Like a tiny, highly trained interrogation squad.
âOkay,â Danny said, voice tight. âNope. Iâm done.â
That evening, Danny knocked on Alfredâs door.
âCome in,â Alfred called.
Danny stepped inside, arms crossed, jaw clenched. âSir. Respectfully. Please. Control your grandchildren.â
Alfred didnât look up from his paperwork. âTheyâre bothering you.â
âYes,â Danny said immediately. âConstantly. They follow me. They stare. One of them took notes. I think another tried to profile me. and Im almost positive one of them tried to take my DNA.â
Alfred hummed. âThat would be Master Tim.â
âI just wanna do my job,â Danny continued, âwithout the added trauma. I donât ask questions. I donât snoop. I donât care whatâs under the house or why half the furniture is reinforced. But if they keep treating me like a mystery, Iâm gonna lose it. And trust me, that won't end up being a good time for anyone.â
Alfred finally looked up.
There was something sharp behind his eyes now.
âI hired you,â he said gently, âbecause you know when not to look.â
âI will speak to them,â Alfred said. âYou have my word.â
Danny exhaled, relief flooding him. âThank you. Really.â
As he turned to leave, Alfred added, almost fondly,
âAnd Danny?â
âYouâre doing very well here.â
Danny smiled, small and tired. âThat means a lot, sir.â
The next day, the Wayne kids stopped following him.
They still watched, sometimes.
Alfred, meanwhile, moved through the manor with lighter steps.
And Danny Fentonârunaway, former hero, professional not-seer of secretsâkept the house running smoothly.
Which, Alfred thought, was exactly what the family needed.
Even if they didnât know it yet.
