Alfred sat at the control panel in the Batcave, his eyes flicking between the various monitors that displayed critical data. His fingers moved with practiced precision across the keys, his focus unwavering despite the tight knot of anxiety in his chest. The Batmobile’s interior came into view on one of the screens, and he could see Bruce..barely conscious, his face pale and battered, fighting to stay awake.

“Hang in there, Master Bruce,”

Alfred muttered under his breath, his voice a mixture of concern and quiet reproach.

“Almost there, sir. Just a little further.”

His brow furrowed as he adjusted the Batmobile’s speed, carefully guiding it down the winding road that led to the Cave. Alfred's concern was palpable, but so was his frustration.

Bruce was stubborn, as always. No matter how many times Alfred warned him, no matter how many close calls they’d had, he always threw himself into danger with reckless abandon. And now, once again, it was Alfred who had to pick up the pieces. It was a routine that was wearing him thin, no matter how much he loved the young man, Bruce’s insistence on putting himself in harm’s way, day after day, was exhausting.

Once the batmobile entered the cave he approached quickly, opening the doors and helping Bruce up...

“Dramatic? Perhaps. But you are, without a doubt, the most infuriating man I’ve ever had the misfortune of caring for.”