New York Resolutions

"I've made my decision, Alfred. There's nothing left for me here in Gotham."

"Indeed not. Merely your family legacy, your home, your company-"

"My family's legacy is exactly that. It will remain as long as Gotham City stands. I have to create my own."

"Quite, Sir. But might I suggest-"

"I can't do that under the shadow of my father, Alfred." Billionaire Bruce Wayne glanced up at the life-sized portrait of his late parents. "Not the legacy I intend to forge."

Alfred puffed through the bristles of his pointed black moustache, and inclined his head in acquiescence. The Gentleman's Gentleman had always feared one more harrowing event in the young Master's life would drive him from the city for good. Certainly, events had taken a turn for the worst.

Drawing himself up to his full height, he smoothed down his black livery and clasped his white-gloved hands behind his back. The majority of his adult life had been spent in Wayne Manor, and the estate had become more of a home to him than any of the residences he'd inhabited before. His own father had worked there, serving Bruce's father, Thomas, and his father before him. It would break his heart to leave.

Yet, he reminded himself silently, his legacy was not in the brick and mortar of the stately Wayne home. It was in the lineage itself. The family he had raised. Indeed, Bruce had been like a son to him these past twelve years.

"I shall make the necessary arrangements, sir," he said dutifully, though he could not keep the hint of remorse from his voice. "As for Ms. Beaumont's belongings..?"

Bruce turned, his usually stoic features betraying his chagrin. In the past, he'd worn light brown and powder-blue suits, matched with bright ties and shirts, with spotted pocket-squares to complete an ever-stylish and inviting look. Now, he restricted himself to black, as if in constant mourning.

Perhaps a change of scenery was for the best.

"Do what you think best, Alfred," he mumbled, heading to the study.

"Going on patrol, sir?"

"Gathering my things. I'll be in New York by sun-up. I'll send you word when I arrive."

Alfred began to bow, but then the words hit home. Eyes wide, he stared at his young ward in amazement. Ever the professional, he swallowed the long list of accusations and protestations, and spoke evenly.

"Send word? Am I to understand I shall not be accompanying you?"

"I need someone to look after the Manor, Alfred. I can't have their legacy fall to ruins."

"And who will keep you from falling to ruins, Master Bruce?"

"I'll be fine, Alfred. New York is no Gotham."