Chapter I: Coming Home

A few miles on the outskirts of Gotham…

After being gone for twelve years, it felt good to be home. Bruce's first order of business was to apologize to his butler, Alfred. He was a loyal and very humble person. He did the up-keeping of Wayne Manor after the death of Bruce's parents and even after Bruce left. Alfred has been around Bruce's life for as long as he can remember. He raised Bruce for six years because he was the legal guardian and care-taker if anything happened to Mr. and Mrs. Wayne. Of course, he had the help of Dr. Thompkins, but without Alfred, Bruce knew he would not have survived. They did not have the best relationship after the "incident", but Bruce knew he carried a large part of the fault. He was an orphaned brat and acted as one. However, he only behaved this way because Alfred was a constant reminder of his parents and their death. Bruce knew very well he owed Alfred an apology and also an explanation as to why he left, along with many other things. Bruce had left at the ripe age of fourteen with only a note promising a return. It was impersonal, and so much more than old Alfie deserved, but he was an lost boy with the need for closure. Closure neither Alfred nor the doctor could provide. Dr. Thompkins also deserved an apology. She had died during his tour of training in Europe. Though it truly did upset him, he did not allow his years of mental training go to waste.

Bruce had fallen asleep in the limousine that Alfred insisted on sending for him. He had not realized he had fallen asleep until waking up because no dreams came to him. He did not think he was actually tired enough to fall asleep, but ultimately, exhaustion had taken its toll. Bruce had not awoken until the limo hit the small bump that began at the foot of the hill that lead up to the manor. It was a sign he was close. It was a gloomy day, but this wasn't unusual. Gotham was a gloomy place. It was cloudy and dark and damp from the constant showers and now, being late fall, the air was brisk to add to the grey skies. It's the exact reason he had to get out of there to "find himself."

Twenty short minutes later, he drives through the open gates with the large "W" split in them. They were never able to rust under the extreme care and careful supervision Alfred gave them. Bruce was impressed. Time seemed to speed along, as if a remote control had been pressed to fast forward. He was quite anxious to come back home. A greyish head soon came into view. There he stood; Alfred Pennyworth. Within the same second the elongated car come to a standstill, Bruce practically shot out of it. He did not know what came over him, but he sped over to the older man and brought him in for an embrace, lifting him off of his feet in the process.

"Alfred!", he said. The older man chuckled in his arms. The time after that passed so quickly because Bruce was happy to be back at home. He stood almost a head shorter than Bruce now unlike the last time they had seen each other. Bruce had genuinely missed Alfred. "Master Bruce.", he responded through his laughs. It was inexplicable how a voice Bruce had not heard in years still had such a strong pull on him. Bruce released him from his grip, setting him gently on the ground. "Oh, Alfred, there's so much I have to say to you. Firstly, I can't even begin to explain how sor-"
Alfred raised his left hand as a gesture to silence him. "You owe me nothing." Bruce nodded through his disagreement. He felt like he owed him so much more than just that, but felt no need to argue with him about it. In the end, it was his decision. If the older gentleman felt no animosity towards him, then Bruce was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Shall I bring in your things, Sir?" He offered only to receive a shake of the head in response. "No, no. You rest today. Make us some tea, so we can catch up. I'll be in shortly," Bruce assured him with a small smile.

Alfred simply returned the smile and made his way inside.
Bruce went on with retrieving his belongings from the trunk of the limousine. He gave the driver a generous tip and went on his way inside. He could have sworn that for a few minutes, he felt as if eyes from all around were watching him. He tried his best to brush it off, attributing it to home-coming jitters and hyper-exhaustion. Part of him silently wondered if anything at all had changed - mostly the interior of the mansion. However, he quickly realized how impossible that actually was. "Maybe it's a little cleaner? Less haunting? Nothing more than that." There was no way Alfred could have changed a single thing. And he had not, to Bruce's expectation. He set foot in his mansion, letting out a breath he did not even realize he was holding in. His two feet were quick to race down the walkway of the entrance. It was exactly how he left it. However, it did not feel the same. It felt smaller, which he concluded it had something to do with the fact he was not fourteen anymore. It was not as gloomy as it used to be, just empty. That remained the same. It was usually just him and Alfred. All in all, he was glad to be back at home. He was almost drowned in relief.

A few hours later, Bruce was in the kitchen sitting at the table in the center of the large room with Alfred. He was going to offer to sit out on the deck, but it was fall and cooling into winter with each passing day. He knew better than to drag the older man outside. For a while, they exchanged only a few words, and instead just focused on the television. It was running with the news on; an hour-long special report on "The Return of Gotham's Golden Boy", otherwise known as Bruce Wayne himself: the orphaned-millionaire. He gladly accepted the warm welcome of the city and the few citizens who were interviewed about his return. Most were just happy that he was back and others talked about how strong he was to be able to endure everything he went through. In all honesty, he did not have a clue what they meant and simply assumed they meant his parents. Admittedly, he quickly grew bored of the recognition. Everyone said the same things. The reports were just reiterating and explaining how he'd been studying abroad. All these things he already knew. He then decided to turn off the television and give Alfred his full attention. He deserved it.
From that point, they spoke about anything and everything possible under the sun. Alfred told him about the people who came, left, and passed by. About how Lucius had assumed the position as the business manager of Wayne Enterprises, though Bruce was still the named CEO. He also spoke about his new found love for gardening in the recent years. He even began to tell Bruce about all the crazy stories that came about after his departure; how many people assumed he was kidnapped, police wanting to investigate Alfred and the estate and company and all he could do was promise them of Bruce leaving by his own decision to study at a high-end business school in Europe. In return, Bruce told Alfred about his endeavors in mental and physical training – only to a certain extent and not the reason behind it. He also talked about his travels and business studies in order to properly manage the company. They laughed some, they frowned some, and before either of them knew it, the day was coming to an end and night was taking over. He told Alfred that he was dismissed for the night, and went up to his room. Alfred told him that he would go to bed after cleaning up. Something was telling Bruce that it was a lie, especially because, even as a child, he could remember clearly that Alfred would not rest until he was asleep.

Bruce's room, to no surprise, was another part of the house left untouched. The bed was made, the curtains were slightly parted to let in a small sliver of light, and the small bump in the carpet beside his bed was still there. However, it felt strange to him; almost as if it was terra incognita. He tried to brush it off, but it was the feeling of displacement that would not leave him alone. He felt as if he simply did not belong there anymore. Not only was that feeling settling in, but once again he felt as if he was being watched. They bore on the back of his neck and he did not like it one bit. He took a peek out of the large window, but saw nothing. A small sigh escaped him as he closed the curtain, crossing the room to do the same to the other. He tried his best not to think about it as he stripped to ready himself for a shower. The feeling of the hot water against his stiff, tired muscles was probably the best thing he had ever felt. It loosened the tight muscles throughout his body. He was completely unwinding in the large shower, losing himself under the power of the jet-nozzle.

The shower felt a lot shorter than it actually was in his mind. Bruce guessed he had just lost track of time. He had gotten in a bit after seven and it was nearing ten by the time he had gotten out. When he was back in his room, there were clothes laid out for him on his newly remade bed.
"Couldn't resist, eh, Alfred?" He chuckled, sensing him in the doorway.
"Of course not, sir." Alfred gave him a ginger smile, stretching from ear to ear. It warmed Bruce's heart.

He had to shoo Alfred off, promising him that nothing more needed. Or so Bruce hoped. What he had neglected to tell Alfred, however, was the reasoning for his sudden return to Gotham. Bruce vowed something the day his parents passed. He silently promised to them that he would avenge them that very night. There was no way in hell that he was going to let them die without vengeance, without reason. At first, he felt lost. His world was utterly shattered and falling apart around him. After Gordon - only an officer back then - wrapped his jacket around his shoulders, he felt it. It was the little faith he needed to push him onward. He knew from the beginning he was never going to kill; it was beneath him. It was cruel and cynical, and by doing so, he would defeat the purpose of avenging his parents in an honorable way. No one deserved the pain he felt. That person he would kill would be someone's child, parent, or spouse. The streets of Gotham needed to be cleaned. Bruce made it his job to strike fear into the hearts of the people who mad others feel the same pain he did. He did not know of any other way to do this but by being a vigilante. With the crap police force that ran Gotham, he knew he was the only one left to change the city. Gordon was a good cop, but he was not even a detective yet; and that is if he even stayed in the city all these years. It was really the only option he had. It was getting later into the night, and for Bruce, enough was truly enough for one day. He only remembered falling asleep after reading a few articles in the Gotham Times about rising crimes rates and murders sky-rocketing.

Author's Notes

hey. i'm vanessa and this is my first time publishing anything at all on the internet. please don't be too harsh when reviewing if you do. five favorites or reviews for a new chapter. i already have chapters 2 & 3 written so if you like it , make sure to show me some love , guys ! xx