TITLE: Letting Go
AUTHOR: AlfieLuv
RATING: PG Drama/Angst
SUMMARY: Bruce helps Alfred through a difficult moment.
DISCLAIMERS: Alas, Bruce, Alfred, and all other characters here in do not belong to me. They are property DC Comics and Warner Brothers. I'm only writing this because I'm depressed. I'm not making any money off it. – Which only depresses me more.
LETTING GO
It had been the first time Bruce had seen Alfred so totally distraught.
The tired, age worn looking butler sat in a sunken, defeated posture upon the large suede sofa of the study, staring blankly out the window. He looked like he'd just lost his best friend.
Truth was. . .he had.
Alfred had served in the British Secret Service along side a good natured man named Frederick Landry. They had been paired for ops when first entering the service, and had remained very good friends long after their service officially ended and retirement began.
However, Frederick was always one to stay close to the action and kept a foot in the door back at the "office", so to speak, ready to come out of retirement if they needed him.
A tiny smile graced Alfred's lips at the thought. Frederick was never one to walk away from anything. Sure, the cool British façade would lead one to believe otherwise, but Alfred knew the man beneath it very well. He had seen, many times, the sparkle of excitement in Frederick's eyes when he'd been placed in the middle of something. Alfred had seen it on countless missions before, he'd seen it when they were together, and he'd even seen it when they'd both been kidnapped by Red Claw a year and a half ago.
Frederick had lived for a ripe, daring, dangerous adventure.
Had lived.
Alfred swallowed hard. He couldn't believe Frederick was gone.
And so suddenly.
They'd just been talking over the phone not two weeks ago, Frederick as chipper and witty as always, and now. . .
Alfred's eyes slowly closed. How could Frederick have died of a stroke? It just didn't seem possible! How could he leave him?!
"Alfred?"
Bruce's voice broke through the heavy grief ridden fog that had settled around the older man and he looked up at Bruce with pain ridden eyes.
"I brought you a cup of tea." Bruce said quietly as he handed it to Alfred, hoping it would give his friend some comfort. He wasn't very good at this sort of thing.
Alfred reached out and accepted the cup. "Thank you, Bruce."
The use of his first name alone told Bruce just how bad things were.
He'd only met Frederick the one time when heading off to London to rescue Alfred from Red Claw. Before that, he'd known Alfred had a friend he wrote to, called, and occasionally visited, but that was all. Of course, he could have pried, but he got the distinct impression Alfred hadn't wanted him to, and he respected that.
Not really knowing what else to do, Bruce sat down next to the other man.
Alfred looked over at him, a bit surprised.
"I'm sorry. Would you like to be alone?" Bruce asked.
Alfred shook his head. "No." He set the cup down on the table, too distracted to remind himself it would leave a mark on the wood surface he'd have to polish out later.
Bruce watched Alfred, trying to figure out what was going on in his mind by the expressions that passed over his face.
All he could see was the obvious. Heart wrenching sadness over the loss.
"Is there. . .anything I can do?" Bruce asked.
Again, Alfred shook his head.
Bruce's shoulders slumped a bit and he followed Alfred's gaze out the window to the setting sun.
He didn't ever know what to do at times like these. For obvious reasons, funerals and their aftermaths were not things he dealt with often. Or really at all. He usually avoided them any chance he got. There was just too much old pain and anger that surfaced.
But, this time he wasn't feeling it. That overpowering need to get away wasn't nagging at him.
What was nagging at him was the uncomfortable silence. He knew he had to do SOMETHING to get rid of it. Something that was helpful.
He looked back at Alfred, took a breath of courage, then held out his arms. "Hey. . ."
The older man's head turned and he looked down at Bruce's extended arms curiously, then up at Bruce's face to see a welcoming, yet timid smile.
"Come' ere," Bruce said softly, curling the fingers on both his hands in a slow come hither motion.
Alfred was dumbfounded by the gesture and could only blink at Bruce.
Okay, Bruce would admit it. This was unlike him to show such a grand display of affection during such an uncomfortable and stressful time. But he had managed to do it for Dick years ago when the boy needed the support and comfort of a caring embrace, and he figured now Alfred needed it, too.
Besides, Alfred was always there for him when he needed it. Even if he didn't always accept it.
"Come on," Bruce added gently. His left hand extended further, lightly tugging at Alfred's shoulder, until the other man leaned forward, resting his full weight against Bruce's chest.
The younger man's arms closed around Alfred's fatigued -- and what Bruce was just noticing -- trembling body. "Hey. . .hey," Bruce whispered. "It's alright." That was a calming thing to say, right?
He gently rubbed Alfred's back.
"Do you remember what you told me after mom and dad's funeral, Alfred? You said: 'It's alright, lad. Just let it go. Time will take care of the rest.'."
Bruce tipped his head to the side and looked down at the man in his arms. "Let it go, Alfred. Let it go."
The sun had set, and now the manor was blanketed in darkness, save Bruce's study. A small tiffany lamp, sitting on an end table, illuminated the room in a soft, comforting. light orange glow.
Bruce's cheek rested on top of Alfred's head as he slowly rocked the older man to both calm and comfort him.
This compassion thing wasn't so bad. For some reason, Bruce wasn't as intimidated by the idea where Alfred was concerned.
Meanwhile, Alfred dozed against the now damp front of Bruce's shirt, letting the motions lull him to a more relaxed state.
He had let go of the pain. Now it was up to time to heal his broken heart.
He was just glad he wasn't alone.
End