Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. It is inspired from movie scenes in Batman Begins.

I am not a psychologist but I had always wondered several things about Batman/Bruce Wayne. He did indeed survive quite a traumatic event, but what made him blame himself so insistently to the point of becoming another? Alfred was always supportive, yet Bruce was always angry and lost. Who said or what else made him become so lost? I hope that my version is falling into place with the way certain scenes were acted out in the movie. It seemed to make sense along the lines of this story. Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Alfred's eyes widened in horror at the realization of Bruce's words. My God, he thought. This child…no ...man had seen so much. What if this was just an effect from the hallucinogen? Perhaps…but Alfred sorely doubted it. Bruce, an 8 year old Bruce, had seen his parents not only murdered before his eyes, but also his own mother raped as well. Alfred knew more than ever, that Bruce must have such pain and sorrow in his heart. Bruce's subconscious had been working overtime not only to suppress such knowledge as a rape, but also that Falcone had plotted the murder and that Chill did not act alone. For anyone to be able to do that shows true evil, Alfred thought. The things those hazel eyes have seen, Alfred wondered gazing into Bruce's frightened ones. Alfred reached an old tired hand and grasped his ward's fingers holding on ever so gently.

"I am here, Master Wayne."

Bruce's distant eyes showed interest at this statement and looked straight into Alfred's brown eyes. Hs brow furrowed as he bit his lower lip stifling the tears that welled in his eyes.

Bruce was hearing Alfred. He heard everything his old friend had ever told him. He heard the voice that was in his room as well as the one that spoke only in his mind's past. Unfortunately, Bruce also heard another voice echoing in his heart. It was one he had buried deep inside of his soul. Although he refused to admit it, this voice was one that had inspired the Batman more than any other. As Bruce continued to keep his gaze on Alfred praying that the man's face wouldn't leave, he began to see another take his place. This face was not gentle and forgiving, but harsh and familiar. Bruce found himself falling into another buried memory.

Bruce was sitting in the police station clasping his eyes shut at every flash from the photographers. His eyes were raw from crying, but his voice held no words in them to ask for assistance. He was alone. He was truly alone. Well, not exactly, Bruce thought. Alfred would save me. He always came through in the end. That small feeling brought a tiny smile of comfort to Bruce's lips. It was to be short lived. A young officer bent down on his knee to look at Bruce. He could see the officer's sadness and even pity for him. Bruce said nothing. He merely reacted by trying to contain his father's coat so that it wouldn't be taken from him like everything else had. The young officer smiled and he assured Bruce that things would be OK. OK? How could it be? He was an orphan now. Even Bruce knew what that meant. He was no one's. Another officer came into the room and seemed quite angry at the first one, Bruce thought he heard the name Gordon mentioned (that of the young officer), before the new man told this Gordon to leave. The other officer (the captain) seemed to be telling Bruce that they had caught the man that had taken his world from him. He heard the captain but the words sounded far away. Bruce was numb and he felt nauseous. That is when the captain told him someone was here for him. Bruce jumped up eager to fall into the arms of the loving butler when his eyes were met with the eyes of his uncle.

"Philip Wayne, your uncle, correct, Bruce? He is here to take temporary custody of you until things are sorted out with the state concerning your guardianship." Bruce eyes gave him away as the captain finished, "It was written in your parent's will that an Alfred Pennyworth is to be in charge of you. Since this change had been made rather recently and since he is not a close relative, the law has decided to place you with your uncle for the time being. With your status," the captain sneered, "the law should move quickly for you clearing up this matter within a day or two at most. Either way, you are in good hands."

The captain smiled as he gave Bruce a small push to Philip. As a bewildered Bruce was left to the cameras, (which Uncle Philip seemed to relish) Bruce saw the frantic eyes of Alfred searching for him. Bruce, although knowing in his deepest heart that it wasn't Alfred's fault for this glitch in the law, he still blamed him. How could Alfred let him go? Young and old eyes met. Alfred knew that he was too late. Something had gone terribly wrong.

Alfred could tell by Bruce's mumblings that Bruce was recalling the day they had been separated because of the law. Once again the law interfered with the future. Alfred recalled along with Bruce…

Alfred wandered into the captain's office feeling overwhelmed. He was not only made aware minutes earlier that his employers and best friends were murdered, but had also realized that now he was to become a father. Alfred learned that not only did Bruce witness the entire event which Alfred was only told bits and pieces from, but that his guardianship was not in question. Alfred sat in the leather chair squirming uncomfortably trying to make sense of all this madness. He was supposed to care for this boy, a boy whom he had always loved as his own and yet he was taken from him.

"Do you have any questions, "the young officer asked.

Alfred looked into his brown eyes. The young officer had been trying to fill him in, but Alfred's mind was racing and few words had sunk in. Alfred continued to stare at the young man' twinkling eyes and busy mustache. His persona shone with loyalty and honestly which was becoming rarer and rarer lately in this city.

"When will I get to see Master Bruce, Officer Gordon?"

Gordon could sense the sadness and care this man had for the boy. The other man seemed angry at having to care for the boy. Gordon hoped that this Alfred would gain custody soon for Bruce's sake.

"It's hard to tell for sure Mr. Pennyworth," Gordon said with sadness.

Alfred knew that he would not be getting a straight answer for there was none to be found.

Bruce kept his arms held tightly on his lap on the car ride home as his wide eyes gazed out the window. Bruce had little contact with Uncle Philip. The last time had been almost 6 months ago. He had overheard Uncle Philip and his father arguing. The words didn't make sense to Bruce because of his youth, but it was something that clearly upset his father. When they had left that day, Bruce asked one question

"When would we be seeing Uncle Philip again, dad?"

Thomas Wayne kept his eyes forward.

"Never, Bruce."

Apparently never came a lot sooner than everyone thought.

Bruce arrived at his temporary home. Philip was not as well off as Thomas was but, he definitely had a life that many would consider to be luxurious. Bruce continued to be silent as if waiting for permission to speak. Philip just kept looking at Bruce with a sneer on his face. He just shook hi head.

"I knew you wouldn't amount to much. Can't even defend you."

Bruce grew confused. What did he mean defend myself? What was he suppose to do? The man had a gun.

Philip pulled the navy curtains from the bay window and gazed out while opening his bottle of whiskey.

"Yeah, my brother was a real piece of work and I guess his kid is just like him. Only good thing in your family was your mom. Nice piece of ass."

Philip turned to Bruce, "What are you? Mute? Say something, you little bastard!"

Bruce's continued to say nothing as Philip's anger turned to impatience. He grabbed Bruce's shirt and pulled him closer. Bruce could smell the alcohol on his breath. Beads of sweat began to form on Bruce's small forehead. At that moment Bruce wondered whom he was most afraid of, Philip or Chill?

"Listen, you little brat. I heard what you told the police. They told me everything. The whole thing was your fault. You hear me? No matter what anyone says, you were a coward. Couldn't stand a little play, you piece of shit."

His words spat at Bruce. Philip let go of the boy's shirt and took a swig of the bottle. Without looking him in the face he continued, "You disgust me. You don't deserve to be in the same room with me or anyone else for that matter."

Philip stood so still Bruce was terrified to breathe. Out of no where, Bruce felt his shirt being grabbed again and his whole body being shoved into a small dark closet. The door was shut swiftly behind him and even thought he whimpered and begged to be let out, Philip only continued to beret him and keep him in the dark until Bruce became one with it fighting off real demons and those in his head. The next day he was allowed to be with Alfred, but one day had made all the difference. Bruce was gone. Nothing but his shell remained.

Alfred refused to hold back the tears from falling as he heard Bruce relive his day with Uncle Philip while under the toxin. Who knew one day, mere hours apart could make such a difference. Now Alfred knew why Bruce was so different when he returned. He had ignored Alfred the whole day of the funeral. It was not only grief, but anger at being left alone with that madman. It wasn't until the evening when Alfred had offered to make supper that Bruce broke down. Alfred thought the boy was merely having survivor's guilt. Bruce truly believed he was the cause of his parent's death because of Philip. Thank the stars that Philip had taken a gun to his mouth a few years after Bruce's brief stay, Alfred thought. Unfortunately for Bruce, Philip's death could never erase the words and feelings that they left behind.

Alfred, while still holding Bruce's hand, suddenly felt the grip get stronger.

"I may not have been there before my boy, but I will never leave your side again."

Bruce continued to hold on.

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