Disclaimer: DC Comics and Time/Warner own All the characters; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright.
Transition
By
Peggie
Alfred was looking concerned at the young man sat at the desk studying. He looked exhausted, there were large dark patches under his eyes. Not only was the amount of time spent studying effecting the boy, he still suffered from disturbed sleep. Seven years on from witnessing his parents' murder and he still awoke at least once a night screaming out his fear and pain.
"It's about time you were in bed young man." Alfred said gently to the fifteen-year-old who was reaching for yet another book on criminal psychology. "It is past one o'clock, you'll never be up in time for the morning lecture."
"It's Professor Fieldman giving tomorrows lecture, his theories are far from sound," the boy said arrogantly, "so I am skipping his lectures. I don't intend going in until eleven. I want to spend the afternoon in the library." the boy said not bothering to take his eyes off the page he was reading.
"I thought we'd come to Cambridge so that you could study under Professor Fieldman!" Alfred stated.
Bruce just grunted.
"Sir, I really think.."
"You're not paid to think Alfred, it's not my choice you being here. You're here because they won't let me study without a chaperone. Please remember your place, you're an employee not my father!" Bruce said sharply
The man hesitated for a minute absorbing the young man's statement. He didn't want the boy to realise how much his comment had hurt. "I am well aware of my role in your life Sir. More so than you are it seems, because as you may recall, I am also your guardian until you reach maturity. So as your guardian I am instructing you that it's time for bed."
"Who the hell do you think you're talking to!" Bruce demanded. Staring angrily at Alfred.
"I am not sure Sir, I thought it was Bruce Wayne. But the Bruce Wayne I brought up, had manners." The butler replied unintentionally letting some of the hurt he felt show.
Sighing heavily Bruce slammed his book down and headed for the bathroom. Alfred started to tidy up the desk only to stop when the boy gave him a withering look.
As soon as he was sure the young man was in bed Alfred left. Bruce heard him walking down the hallway. They occupied the only two rooms on the ground floor of the old college's gatehouse. Bruce waited to hear the door to Alfred's room open but instead he heard the outside door. After a few minutes he heard voices speaking softly.
"Is everything all right Mr Pennyworth, you look a little upset? Is your young gentleman giving you a hard time?"
That was Jenkins, the senior porter. Bruce knew that the two men had become good friends.
"It's never easy with teenagers is it Mr Jenkins?" He heard Alfred say.
"Never mind, don't take to heart what he says. When my lad was his age and he's always telling me I was a rubbish father."
"At least you are his father. I may have brought the lad up for the last seven years, but he's right, I am, just, an employee. And in another few years, when he comes of age and can legally do without me, I don't suppose I'll even be that. I'll be lucky if Bruce even remembers me when he's thirty." Alfred said sadly. "I don't know, maybe it would be for the best if I forget the past and just accept that I am just an employee."
"He has upset you tonight, hasn't he Mr Pennyworth? What you need is a good cup of tea. Anyway, cheer up, you're off to London to see your family tomorrow aren't you? For the first time in six year's I think you said."
Bruce heard the men's voices trail off as the door to the porters lodge closed. He was feeling terrible, he'd treated Alfred abysmally. Ok, so Alfred was an employee, but he was far more than that to Bruce, he was his friend and mentor. Always faithful, always caring and always there for him, even to the extent of not seeing his real family in six years. He hadn't meant to say what he'd said. He really hadn't, it had just slipped out. Alfred was right, it was time he got some sleep. He set his alarm for seven. He'd make sure he caught his friend in the morning, before he left for London and apologise.
Bruce woke in a cold sweat he'd managed to hold back the scream that he'd been about to pass his lips. He glanced at the clock almost three o'clock. He'd wanted to call for Alfred, right now he really needed his guardian's reassuring presence. As he'd been about to call for him Bruce stopped. No, he needed to apologise properly to Alfred first. He needed Alfred to understand that his apology had been because he wanted to make it, not because he, once again, wanted something from the man. Bruce lay in his bed trying to work out what to say. The next thing he knew daylight streaming through the open curtains. He felt tired and confused, the sun seemed very high in the sky. He rolled over and looked at the clock 9.15. Hell, he'd not heard the alarm. He quickly dressed and headed for Alfred's room.
Jenkins was just pinning a notice up on the board at the bottom of the stairs. "If you're looking for Mr Pennyworth, you've missed him young man, he left to get the 8.15 train to London well over an hour ago."
Jenkins saw the desperately disappointed the boy looked. He'd not worked for thirty years as a university porter without gaining the skills to spot a young person in need of an understanding ear. Besides he promised Mr Pennyworth he'd keep an eye on the boy. "Is there anything I can do for you young man?"
Bruce shook his head and turned to go back to his room. Suddenly he stopped. "Mr Jenkins, how do you know if someone loves you?"
The man shrugged "You just know."
He saw the boy look disappointed by his answer. "He may not be your father, but Mr Pennyworth does love you!"
"What even after what I said last night." Bruce remarked sadly.
"Ah, you've got sharp ears young man. You heard the start of our conversation, but you didn't hear the rest of it. So please don't think Mr Pennyworth thinks any the less of you, he loves you as much as he would his own son."
"But he doesn't know that I ...." Bruce's voice trailed off.
"Is that feeling so hard to admit to?" the old man asked looking at Bruce closely.
"Bruce nodded looking down at his feet."
"You and I are very similar Mr Wayne, apart, from you being rich of course. We both lost our parents when young." At Bruce's puzzled then angry look the man smiled. "He only told me because we'd had complaints about you disturbing others at night. I was considering asking you to leave college and find lodgings in town. I mean you could afford to and you'd both be more comfortable. Only Mr Pennyworth begged me not to, he said you needed to experience a different lifestyle."
"Oh." Bruce muttered.
"He's a very wise man, very like the man who raised me after my folks were killed in an air raid. Like you I had nightmares, still do when things upset me."
Bruce looked at the man surprised. Suddenly wanted to know more about him, to learn what he could from this man.
Jenkins saw the boy's hunger for information. "Look how about we go to the refectory for breakfast?"
Bruce looked at his watch. Breakfast finished at 8.30 a.m. no exceptions, not even for the Master of the college. Still the man walked into the now deserted hall. He disappeared into the kitchen, then returned, cleared two spaces at a clutter table and sat down. Almost immediately a young woman appeared with two gigantic breakfasts, tea and toast.
Jenkins laughed at Bruce's shocked expression. "Privilege of rank young man. Masters don't run colleges, senior porters do."
"A bit like butlers run households." Bruce muttered.
Jenkins smiled "Even when the Master of the house is an adult!"
"You said your folks died in an air raid." Bruce prompted.
Jenkins nodded "A direct hit on the shelter we were in. I was the only one to get out, not a mark on me. Trapped in there for four hours with all those bodies, including those of my parents, left scars, only not the type that you can see. I used to dream about it every night, sometimes I still dream I am seven and I am trapped there with my mother's body laid next to me. I don't have the dream every night. These days it's only when thing aren't going too well. I am sure you're the same!"
Bruce nodded. "So who brought you up?" he asked.
"Geoff, Geoff Paull, an old friend of my folks. He used to live next door. He'd known me since I was knee high to a grasshopper. He'd lost his wife in childbirth, never really got over it, my folks and I were sort of his family. Well, when they took me to hospital it was Geoff who came to collect me. He'd been caring for me for three months when the social worker came around. The orphanages were swamped and we seemed OK, so Geoff was just left to it."
"Did you ...love him?" Bruce asked hesitantly.
"Yes, very much, although I don't think I ever really told him as such, well, not until the day he died. I almost missed my chance, but he was a stubborn old man, he didn't intend dying until I'd told him."
Bruce saw the man looking sadly into his mug of tea. "I've often wished I'd said it before that day. I gave that old guy a real hard time. I was sickly kid always ill, nightmares every night. I don't think Geoff got a nights uninterrupted sleep for year. Then he was stuck with a kid all the time so he never got any social life. I was nothing but a worry to him, I became a right pain as a teenager. I don't think I can count the number of times I told him he wasn't my father. Every time I said it I wanted to cut my tongue out, because I'd knew I'd hurt him so much. Ok, so he wasn't my father, but I was the only son he'd ever have. Because of me, he'd never had chance to have any other family. And what is a father anyway? By every definition but the biological one Geoff had been my father, he'd loved me, cared for me and taught me about life. In every respect Geoff was my father. It was only when I had my own son I realised that."
Bruce was nodding.
"Sounds familiar?" Jenkins asked
"Yes." Bruce mumbled
"You don't want to acknowledged your feeling for fear of what you'll lose. Are you afraid you'll lose the link to your natural parents?" The man asked before taking a drink of his tea.
"Yes." Bruce muttered.
"Well, have you ever thought what your parents would say to Mr Pennyworth. Do you think they would accuse him of trying to steal their son for himself, or do you think they would thank him for loving you as his own?"
A young man of about sixteen entered the hall. Jenkins face lit up. "That's my grandson he said proudly. My wife and I adopted his father when he was six year's old, we couldn't have kids of our own." The old man smiled at Bruce, "You eat up young man. If you'll take my advice don't leave things as they are between you two. Just imagine how you'd feel if you never got the chance to let Mr Pennyworth know how much he means to you." With that he left.
Bruce mulled over the problem all day. He hadn't gone into the library, instead he'd gone for a long walk through the town. At lunchtime he'd sat on a wall near a school and watched parent collecting their children. The scene was no different from those he remembered from his own school days. He saw excited children running up to show mothers and the occasional father their work. He saw parents smiling encouragingly at their children, taking the time to listen and praise before warmly taking their hands. No, his childhood hadn't been any different except, his parent had been addressed as Alfred, not Dad.
By six o'clock Bruce was sat on a bench on the platform of Cambridge Railway station. He scanned every train that came in from London looking for Alfred. By eight he'd begun to worry, by nine he was nearly frantic. What if Alfred had had an accident? May be he'd decided not to come back, perhaps he'd decided to stay with his real family, after all they wouldn't be awful to him and he'd know they loved him. Bruce was past rational though by that stage. He'd almost given up hope of seeing Alfred again. The 9.37 train pulled in and Bruce saw his friend stood at the carriage door. He ran up to open it. "I thought you weren't coming back!" the boy exclaimed.
Alfred blinked and looked at the boy confused. "Not coming back, why ever would I not be coming back young man?"
"Because of what I said last night." Bruce mumbled.
"Oh, that. It's best forgotten." Alfred said casually.
"No, no it's not!" Bruce said desperately. "You've got to believe I didn't mean to hurt you."
"I know that Master Bruce. ..I don't want to replace your parents Sir. No one could do that. I just want for us to be friends, as well as employer and employee."
"What about guardian and ward?" Bruce asked.
"Well, I'd hope they could be friends too." the older man said.
After a moment Bruce cleared his throat. "Alfred I wanted to tell you.., wanted to say..I do lo.., well, you know." The boy mumbled, his courage deserting him.
"Yes, me too." Alfred said an amused grin on his face.
Bruce laughed, "Did you have a good time with your family?"
"Yes, thank you sir, but I am glad to be back with you."
Bruce squeezed Alfred's arm and tried to take his friend's bag out of his hand.
"Sir..," Alfred started to protest before noting the boy's expression. Seeing how much this gesture meant to Bruce, he just nodded and relinquished the bag to the boy.
They walked back to college in companionable silence. Not as master and servant, but as friends.