Chapter 1: Broken
"The world is indeed full of peril and in it there are many dark places. But still there is much that is fair. And though in all lands, love is now mingled with grief, it still grows, perhaps, the greater." -J.R.R Tolkien
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or Christopher Nolan's portrayal of Batman. Enjoy.
A man sat by the frosted window watching the snowflakes dwindle down to the ground below. Gotham always seemed more peaceful during the wintertime. Especially now, as the crime rate had dropped dramatically. If you looked at this man however, you would witness a completely different story.
His eyes, dark and haunted, seemed to be fixed intently on the world outside, but if you looked close enough you could see the faraway look held inside.
"Why do we fall?"
The question ran over and over in his mind like a broken record. Alfred had an answer for him once, but now there was almost no way to pick himself up.
A noise from the den caught his attention and he waited until Alfred came into view holding his midday meal. The wizened butler glanced at the uneaten breakfast he'd brought in earlier with dismay. It seemed that Master Bruce had picked at it at least, so he supposed that was better than not eating at all. Alfred heaved a sigh of one who has lived a thousand years.
"Master Wayne." He murmured with a tinge of sadness.
When the crippled man made no motion to answer him he went on, "You must eat sometime…"
He waited with false hope that maybe this time he would get a response. After several minutes passed he gently set the meal on the table, picked up the uneaten tray, and wordlessly left the room.
"Alfred." An unrecognizable voice, broken and strained from years without use, called out before the older man started down the stairwell.
Alfred froze and slowly turned around to face the young man he'd come to regard as his own son.
"Yes Master Wayne?" He responded cautiously.
Bruce didn't meet his gaze, only continued to look out into Gotham. A minute went by and it seemed that he was struggling for words. The visible creases lining his face became even more pronounced as he opened his mouth to speak.
"Do you remember what you once told me about why we fall?" He asked finally.
Alfred made his way back into the room, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Yes, I do." He left it at that.
It was then that Bruce turned to look at him; the first time he had made eye contact in weeks. The things that Alfred saw there never ceased to startle him, no matter how many times he witnessed them. He hid it well and tried not to stare at the dark circles lining the younger man's eyes. It still shattered his heart to see him like this. The things Bruce went through…could hardly be described.
Said man saw his friend's hesitation, but couldn't console him that he was going to be alright this time.
"You told me that we fall, so we can learn to pick ourselves up. Alfred I…"' He takes in a sharp breath, "I don't think I can pick myself up."
Alfred shook his head determinedly, "No, I believe you are wrong about that."
He put a hand on his shoulder, "We often surprise ourselves with just how much we can endure."
Bruce's voice came out in a cracked whisper, "I can't endure this." A wave of despair crashed into him as he said it. Confessing that, any of the will to go on he still held on to broke away.
Alfred sensed the change and took it in stride, "What is it exactly that you cannot endure?" He asked quietly. Bruce needed to talk about this, perhaps by doing so it would lift a weight off of his chest.
"Rachael." He let out in a strangled breath.
"Master Bruce." Alfred says sharply. His tone makes Bruce look up with a small hint of surprise. The older man's eyes softened at this and he went on, "Do you really believe that Rachael would want you to live like this? If she was here-"
"But she's not here Alfred. She's gone." The former Batman cut in angrily.
"Yes, she is, but she believed in what we stand for. She of all people would want you to move on with your life."
"But I can't Alfred, that's the problem." He shook away from his friend and fixed his hardening gaze out into the darkening landscape, "I have too much blood on my hands. Harvey, Rachael, all of those innocent people…are dead…because of me."
He wearily stood up, cane in hand, and hobbled over to the mahogany desk in the corner of the room. Searching the desktop he found a dusty picture frame and picked it up. Peering at it, he remembered taking the picture as if it was yesterday.
"Bruce! Put that damn camera away!" Rachel shrieked.
He chuckled a little and grinned mischievously, "No chance. This is just too funny to pass up."
She was trying to make him a birthday dinner, and by the smell of burning steaks she was failing miserably. Alfred stood in the corner almost begging him with his eyes to let him do something. He shook his head minutely and let her continue, knowing full well that this was probably the last time Alfred would let her near his kitchen again. He continued to snap photos until she put down a pan with a clang and started towards him. She was quite determined, he'd give her that. She wrestled for the camera, but in the end he came out on top.
His lifelong friend groaned in defeat, "Would you just delete them now? You've had your damn fun!"
He rolled his eyes and held the camera in her face tauntingly. When she tried to grab it he yanked it away with a grin, "Ah ah ah, like you always said, finder's keepers."
A spatula was directed at his head for that remark.
He stuck the camera in his pocket and held his hands up in surrender, "Easy there tiger. Why are you so mad about it anyways?"
Rachael shrugged and turned her back to him to attend to the burnt steaks, "I probably look awful." She murmured.
All traces of his earlier playfulness vanished from his face at her remark. He strode around the counter and came to a stop behind her. Putting both hands on either side of her he leaned in and whispered in her ear, "You never look anything less than beautiful."
She blushed a bit, and he decided he liked the color. Turning around she gave him a smile that took his breath away, and the evening festivities went on.
The memory ended and left only sadness in it's wake. Alfred came up behind him, a concerned look on his face.
"I've hit rock bottom Alfred." He said with no emotion.
The butler sighed and managed a small smile, "Well Master Wayne, that means that life cannot go anywhere but up from here. Things are always going to get worse before they get better, and now they will get better. You just have to come to a point where you believe it yourself."
Bruce put the picture down and slowly turned to face one of his oldest friends, "When are you going to give up on me?" He whispered.
Alfred was a little taken back by his question; Bruce was completely serious.
The answer didn't come right at first, he just looked at his charge with a warmth that could only come from a father. He knew he would get Bruce through this, even if it bloody killed him.
Bruce stared right back, and being subjected to Alfred's warm gaze he felt the ice around his heart melt a little. He already knew the answer; he always knew. Sometimes in his darkest days it was just easy to forget it.
"Never." Alfred said simply.
Hearing the conformation he'd already known in his heart, the Dark Knight felt the corners of his mouth turn upward the slightest bit. A complete stranger wouldn't have noticed it, but Alfred did, and seized the opportunity to go on.
"Let it go Master Wayne. Just…let it go."
Bruce took a deep breath, contemplating it, feeling how it tasted in his mouth. Could he let it go?
"It won't be easy."
His wizened friend couldn't have cared less. All that mattered was that he was willing to try. He smirked a little, but his eyes grew grave when he thought about the long road ahead of them.
"Nothing in life ever is."
