Decision (DCAU)
After wandering aimlessly around the manor, I find myself where I always find myself when I'm in a pensive, brooding mood such as this. Deep down beneath all the layers of self-loathing and bitterness…the simmering rage and lingering doubts, I know that I have no reason to be feeling this way.
Unfortunately, the demons that consume my soul have seen otherwise. They rise up like a brood of deadly vipers, hissing and slithering along the edges of my guilt and paranoia with lethal intent. They love nothing more than to seek out my happiness and the newfound peace that she has created within me, intent to wrap around this little nucleus of emotions that I'm so unaccustomed to having and squeeze the life out of them.
I find myself standing before the large portrait of my parents that hangs above the fireplace. I unconsciously lift my hand towards them as if I can really reach out and touch them again like I could before a punk with a gun took them away from me in that alley.
Realizing what I'm doing, I instantly pull my hand back as if I'd been scorched, my fingers coming to rest on top of the fireplace mantle instead. I release a strangled breath as my chin falls to my chest, the weight of my worry and doubts pressing in on me from every side.
I find myself at an inevitable crossroads that I had always known was coming, but I'd hoped to avoid at all cost. I guess a part of me had never truly believed that we would last this long or that I wouldn't completely mess everything up with her long before now…driving her away with my dark brooding and paranoid tendencies.
The fact that she has stayed with me over these last six months is a true testament to her love for me or her unbelievable patience that had to have been given to her by her gods. There is no other reasonable explanation for why she is still here.
What I feel for her is far different from all the others, but I just can't take that leap of faith yet…can I? It's all too terrifying. Nothing good ever lasts in my life, always slipping through my fingers and disappearing in a puff a smoke. I just can't stand the thought of losing her presence in my life.
Other women I've been with have only been able to experience a very small part of me, the shards that I would allow them to have. I only permitted them to see what I wanted them to see while fulfilling some carnal need, companionship that I knew would never last and therefore never had to worry about being forced to deal with for weeks or months later. No strings…no attachments…no worries about the future.
This, however, this is so very different—far more intimate and intense, far more tender and passionate in ways that I had never known or could've ever anticipated. It's like a connection that goes beyond just the physical or the emotional. It's something that is felt bone-deep, binding myself to her.
Still there are things that I've kept from her especially the pieces of me that concern my parents. She's never been in this room or seen this portrait of my parents. I'm never taken her to their grave sight or spoken to her about that day so long ago. I guess I'm afraid if I let her into that part of me…that world of pain and anguish…it'll suck her in just like me and I can't do that to her.
I can feel the pensive expression that graces my face as my mind swirls with every possible 'what if' scenario that my obsessed mind can possibly conjure up. I hate it when my demons try to take control of me like this. It force me work harder to protect that core of happy emotions that had once been so foreign to me, but now has become so precious.
Despite my promise to my parents, there is a part of me that longs deeply for a simpler life, one that is halfway normal…one that includs a wife and children, love and happiness instead of the brokenness and heartache that has punctuated my life. It would be a welcome change of pace to a weary soul that has grown so tired of being alone.
My shoulders droop as I draw a ragged breath. That is the true crux of the problem…the heart of the dilemma that faces me. Can I allow myself to be happy while still being who I know that I need to be in order to continue my mission?
The two seems so diametrically opposed to one another, neither able to coexist with the other. They are polar opposites to one another. Don't I need to cling to the darkness, stay in the shadows and revel in my rage and bitterness in order to continue to be Batman?
I lower my head, unable to bear the look of happiness on my parents' faces. My heart is heavy with the questions and doubts that weigh it down like chains attached to an anchor. It's a bitter battle between the man and the vigilante, one that I've grown weary of fighting. One of them is going to win and one is going to lose, and I have no idea which one it is.
My fingers tighten around my glass of Scotch in my other hand as my warring emotions cause my throat to tighten. A decision has to be made tonight. This can't be allowed to proceed any longer. Prolonging the inevitable isn't fair to her. I've led her on for far too long, making her believable a fairytale lie.
The thought of letting her go nearly steals the breath from my lungs, but the risks are just far too great, the dangers far too deadly to continue down this path. Tonight, I'll have to do what I need to in order to ensure her safety and the future of Gotham.
I try to tell myself that I should be used to sacrificing my heart and my own desires over the years for the good of Gotham and the world. It doesn't seem to make any of this easier. In fact, I don't think I've ever felt worse in my entire life save for losing my parents.
"Master Bruce."
The familiar voice of my British butler filters through my tormented thoughts, forcing me to raise my head and acknowledge his presence. "Yes, Alfred," I murmur without turning around to face him.
"May I ask what you are doing?" Alfred inquires.
"Just trying to accept a decision I should've made a long time ago, but I've been too selfish to make."
"I see," he evenly replies, and I can already tell by the tone of his voice that I'm in for a fatherly lecture. "I take it that it involves Miss Diana."
"Yes," I admit, downing the last of the Scotch in my glass before finally turning to face him. "I should've ended it a long time ago."
I expect outright shock and indignation…an angry outburst accompanied by a scathing lecture about what an idiotic mistake I'm making. What I do receive from my father figure is not at all what I could've ever anticipated.
He silently walks over to one of the endless bookcases, pulling out a book that I don't recall ever seeing before. A sentimental smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, faintly tightening the wrinkles that line his lips as he approaches me.
"Come with me, Master Bruce," he tells me.
My curiosity becomes my undoing as I follow him to the large couch situated before the fireplace, the logs crackling softly as orange flames dance. I settle down next to him as I glance at the large book in his hands. To my surprise, I find it's a photo album, one that I've never seen before.
"Where did this come from?" I ask.
I find the words tumbling past my lips before I can stop myself. I have made my decision and I'm more than determined to not waver from that path no matter what Alfred has to say or what my heart tries to tell me. I know it's for the best—for both her and me.
"Of course you've never seen it because I've never showed it to you before," Alfred replies with a bit of smug amusement at having gotten one up on me. It's not something that many save for the elder British man beside me has ever been able to accomplish. I only let him revel in his triumph for a brief moment.
"Why haven't you shown me this before?"
"I've never had the need to until now," he cryptically responds as he opens the album, the dark brown leather creaking softly from the movement. It's obvious it hasn't seen the light day in many years, the leather showing its age.
"Alfred, what's this about?" I ask with growing irritation. I really don't have time to sit here and reminisce nor do I want to. It'll only bring up painful memories that I'd sooner not relive.
Alfred turns his head to look at me, his blue orbs carrying a gleam that I hadn't seen in quite some time. "This is a photo album that your mother had been putting together for you since the moment she found out she was pregnant with you."
"Alfred…" I chide him with a frown and a warning glare. He'd treading on very dangerous ground right now. "I really don't—"
His expression grows admonishing and I immediately close my mouth. "You will sit here, and you will listen to what I have to say, young man," he sternly reprimands me. "It's the least you can do before you make the biggest mistake of your life."
"Yes, sir," I sullenly mumble with a scowl of frustration.
If anything, this man sitting next to me is the closest thing that I have to a real father. He has taught me manners and respect for as long as I can remember. Regardless of my age, it's something that I can't shy away from even when I want nothing more than to run away and lock myself in my cave at this moment.
"Your mother wanted to give this to you herself when you finally found the woman you wanted to spend your life with," Alfred continued, his irritation disappearing as nostalgia took over.
He slides the album over to my lap, the musty smell of the aged leather and yellowed pages assaulting me. I lightly run the tips of my fingers over the golden calligraphy, the words "The Story of Us" causing a thick knot to suddenly lodge in my throat.
Little did my mother know that their story would be cut so very short and in such a violent way. I try to draw in a breath only to find my lungs rebelling against me. My chest is tight as I flip to the next page to find a black and white picture of my mother as a teenager and I'm struck once again by her beauty and grace. She reminds me of Diana in many ways, both possessing such nobility and elegance that is completely effortless.
On the page opposite of her, I find a black and white picture of my father. I can't help but notice how much I resemble him. There is no doubt that I carry the strong, striking features of a Wayne and yet I can still see some of my mother in me.
I find myself running my fingers over his face, wishing I could touch them just one more time. It feels as though the walls of my study are closing in all around me, threatening to crush me. I want to throw the album aside and race down into the cave. I want to avoid all of this at all cost…my sense of flight taking over, but I know that I need to do this if I'm ever going to try to free myself of this chain that I feel tightening around my neck and my heart.
I can feel Alfred's eyes on me as he sits next to me, silently giving me his support without the meaningless platitudes. He's never tried them on me, knowing that they'd never work. He's one of the few who know how best to handle me…he and Diana and maybe Dick.
I turn the page to find their engagement picture looking back at me. They look so unbelievably happy together as my dad holds my mom in his arms. I can practically feel the intensity of their love leaping off the page at me. It overwhelms me in a way I hadn't anticipated, stunning me senseless.
I'd always known that my parents were in love. I'd caught my dad kissing my mom more times than I could count, my mother always doing everything she could to support him. I'd almost forgotten how seamless they were together, true partners in every way imaginable.
I continue to flip through the album, finding one picture after another of my mother and father at various times of their life together. They look so unbelievably happy together, their immense love for one another shining through in every single scene that had been captured on film.
My breath catches in my throat as I see a picture of my parents at Gotham Hospital's annual ball wearing the pearl necklace that she had been wearing the night I lost them. I'd recognize that strand anywhere. It's been scorched into my memory, the pinging sound of them landing on the ground echoing in my head.
I can barely pull my gaze away from that picture, but I'm anxious to see what else my mother has put in this album. Turning the page, I find a picture of my mother pregnant with me. The joy that lights up her face is unmistakable, her hand caressing her swollen abdomen.
The next picture shows my father hugging her from behind, his hands on her belly. The smiles on their faces fill me with a sense of warmth and love that I hadn't felt in a very long time…the type of love a child feels from their parents. I always knew that they loved me. That was never in question, but I think I'd forgotten the true depths of that love. The memories had become blurry around the edges, the intensity fading.
Apart from the portrait of them above the fireplace in my study, it's been a very long time since I've allowed myself to actually look at pictures of them, to allow myself to remember how much they loved not only each other but also me.
"Finding out they were having you was the happiest day of their lives," Alfred softly says, not wanting to break the magical hold that this moment has on me. "Besides each other, you were their greatest joy."
My heart swells until it feels like it could burst right out of my chest. I draw a shuddering breath as I flip through page after page of memories, the pictures of my parents painting a scene of their life together. The pictures of my mom and dad holding me after my birth nearly brings tears to my eyes, but I push them back.
My mother made countless notes in the margins and beside pictures, explaining various events and charity functions that they had attended. Her thoughts and feelings pour forth from the pages as if she's sitting right here with me, sharing every single part of herself with me.
"You know your father almost didn't marry your mother," Alfred reveals, stunning me.
I look up sharply, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "What are you talking about?" I question him. "They look so incredibly happy. I can't imagine any two people being more in love."
"Oh, he was definitely head over heels for your mother, but he had his doubts too."
"What?" I ask, shaking my head in confusion. "My father had doubts about my mother? How can that be?"
"I'm afraid so," Alfred confessed. "Although he loved your mother very much, he had concerns about what a life spent with her would mean to his medical practice as well as his countless plans for making Gotham a better place. He feared that she would become a distraction because he loved her so much."
"What made him decide to marry her then?" I ask, my voice almost tremulous with anticipation of his answer.
"Miss Martha did," Alfred states. "She told him that they could accomplish more and were far stronger together than they were apart. It also didn't hurt that I cornered him and told him that Miss Martha had brought more happiness to his life than any philanthropic endeavor could ever hope to. I reminded him that life is so much richer and far more enjoyable when you have someone special to enjoy the journey with."
"He obviously agreed with you," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.
A huge smile spreads across Alfred's face as he studies me. "Your father said it was the best piece of advice that anyone had ever given him," he confesses. "Marrying your mother was the happiest day of his life next to your birth."
I feel the tears well in my eyes as I turn my gaze back to the photo album in my lap. I see the love in my mother's eyes as she holds me in her lap, reading a book to me. The picture next to it is of my father and me laying on the floor playing with building blocks. I couldn't have been more than two at the time, but the pride shining in my father's eyes is more than obvious.
The doorbell suddenly rings, signaling Diana's arrival. A fierce flutter invades the pit of my stomach, my grip tightening on the album. The time has finally come. I'm standing at a fork in the road, my head telling me to go to the left…my heart to the right.
A weathered hand on my forearm causes me to look up. "Your parents wanted nothing more for you than to be happy and to know the kind of love that they shared," he tells me, squeezing my arm. "I'll go see to Miss Diana. Would you like her taken to the living room as usual?"
I look up at him for a long moment, knowing I've already made my decision. "No, bring her in here, Alfred."
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, his eyes shining with pride. "I'd be more than happy to," he replies as he stands to his feet. "Dinner will be ready whenever you are, sir."
I nod my head as he makes his way to the doorway. "Alfred?" I call to him.
"Yes, sir?" he asks, turning to look at me.
"Thank you," I softly say.
"You are more than welcome, Master Bruce."
Alfred leaves me to fetch Diana, allowing me a chance to finish the album alone. I reach the last finished page, the lump returning to my throat with a vengeance at the countless empty pages that follow it…pages that my mother was never given the chance to finish for me.
The last picture is of me with my parents at my school's science fair the year that I lost them. They each have a hand on my shoulder and proud smiles on their faces. I remember that day as if it was just yesterday. I had won first place in the science fair with my invention, one that I had created all by myself.
"I love you, mom and dad," I whisper as the tears I've been trying to contain begin to slip down my face.
"Bruce?"
Her voice is angelic, melodious. The confusion and concern in her tone is clear as I set the album aside and stand to my feet. She's right there before me in four quick strides, her strong hands suddenly cradling my face, her thumbs erasing my tears.
"What's wrong?" she asks, her voice choked with emotion. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," I attempt to reassure her, knowing that she's never seen me cry before. In fact, I haven't cried since the day they were taken from me. "I want you to meet my parents."
"What?"
I take her by the hand and lead her to the portrait of my parents that hangs above the fireplace. "Mom…dad…this is my princess…my Diana," I tell them as I look up at them before turning to look at her. "This is my mom and dad."
Diana smiles softly, tears reflecting in her bright blue eyes as she stares up at them. "It's truly an honor," she sincerely says.
I know I'm probably being foolish, but I've never let her into this part of my life before and I can tell by the expression on her face that she understands the true significance of the moment. She knows how monumental this is for me, how truly difficult this is to fully let her in. She's the first to have ever gotten this far.
"I want to show you something," I tell her, leading her to the couch.
She readily follows me to the leather couch before the fireplace, squeezing my hand in silent support and appreciation. She sits down next to me, my arm instantly slipping around her and pulling her against me. I pick up the album with my other hand, setting it on my lap so she can see it.
"This is the story of my parents," I reveal. "I want to show it to you."
"Thank you, Bruce," she manages to utter, her eyes still sparkling with unshed tears. "You have no idea how much this means to me."
"I think I'm beginning to," I confess as I gaze into her eyes.
I lean in and press my lips to hers, savoring every single aspect of the intimate moment—the sweetness, her honied taste, the feel of her soft lips against mine, the way her breath subtly hitches as I deepen it, the overwhelming love that I feel for this woman welling in my chest.
And I know with every fiber of my being that I'm making the right decision.