Thanks for stumbling across and taking the time to read! On a recent rewatch of Batman Begins, I got the urge to write some parts of the story from Alfred's POV. So here's the first one. I hope you all enjoy and leave some comments telling me what you liked/didn't like. I put a lot of feels into this chapter so yeah. :)

When he got the call, he'd been sitting in front of a roaring fire, reading. He had been expecting a phone call, presumably from Master Wayne asking to be picked up from the opera, but the one he got was too early for that. When he answered in his usual cheery fashion, "Hello Alfred Pennyworth speaking," he didn't know what was about to hit him. The voice on the other end introduced himself as Sergeant James Gordon from GPD. There was an accident, he said. A mugging gone wrong. He sounded weary and sad. Someone needs to come get Bruce, he said. Is there anyone?

"Only me. I'll be there soon." The realization that there wasn't anyone else to go get Bruce struck him so hard he felt like he'd be punched in the chest. He loaded himself into the car, going through the motions but not really thinking about it. All he could think about was Thomas, dead, Martha, dead, and now poor, young Bruce left to deal with it all.

"Well I won't have any of it." He found himself whispering to the night. He was going to try his best to shield and help Bruce through this. The boy had been through enough already. Alfred pulled up to the Gotham City Police Headquarters, which was already swarming with press. He scowled.

Alfred parked the car in a tow zone, not really giving a damn about it at that moment. The press hollered at him, probably recognizing him as the Wayne Family butler. A young police officer met him at the door, carefully guiding him through the throngs of officers and media that were congregating inside the building.

"He hasn't spoken to anyone, Sir. He seems to be in shock." Alfred could tell the officer was new to the business.

"Well of course he's in bloody shock." He didn't mean to come off as brash as he did, but all he wanted was to collect Bruce and go home. The officer handed him off to another, presumably Sergeant Gordon.

"Mr. Pennyworth." They shook hands.

"Where's Bruce?" He could tell Gordon was worn thin.

"We have him in the back. I just felt that I'd brief you on the situation, well," Gordon paused to run a hand through prematurely graying hair. "Things are going to be tough the next few weeks. And the boy," he looked back at the door behind him, where he knew Bruce was sitting huddled in his father's jacket. "he's going to need you." Alfred nodded. He let Gordon tell him the details, how they'd found Bruce sitting between his bleed-out parents, how the police had already caught the man responsible. But to Alfred, it was already over. He didn't want to know the details. The details would do nothing for him except cause more unwanted pain.

"May I collect Bruce now, Sergeant?"

"Yes, this way." Gordon nodded sadly and led Alfred through the door. What he saw was truly a sight that broke a piece inside of him. The image of Bruce, looking much younger than he was, wrapped in his father's coat and clinging on for life, the bustle of the officers passing him, the pity looks they threw upon him, it all made Alfred want to wrap Bruce in his own coat and take him away. Away from it all.

"Bruce." It wasn't a question. Alfred knelt down in front of him, one hand on his knee. "Are you ready to go home?" The boy nodded quickly, jumping up at Alfred's touch.

"Goodnight sir." Alfred nodded at Gordon, taking Bruce close to him as they walked back out through the police department.

"But Alfred," Bruce started. They were in the car at this time, having managed to evade the press.

"Yes Master Bruce?"

"It wasn't a good night." The quiet sobs from Bruce in the back seat drove Alfred to pull over, climb in the back alongside his ward, which in the back of his mind he thought, son, because that's what he was going to become, and fold him into his coat.

"I know Master Bruce. I know."