L
Awakenings
Alfred Pennyworth sat beside a comatose Raven Wayne while the afternoon sun shone through the bedroom's windows. Fall's chill was in Gotham's air once again, and he could feel it in his bones. Yesterday, Alfred had managed to transfer Mrs. Wayne to a proper hospital bed (kept for emergencies at Wayne manor) and successfully administer the saline solution drip intravenously to keep poor Raven hydrated. Even still, he would have to insist that Mrs. Wayne be transferred to a hospital by tomorrow. She needed a more than an old butler with first aid training.
Raven's mother Arella had barely left her daughter's side. Alfred had brought Mrs. Wayne's mother her meals and chatted with her, attempting to fill in the history of the past 20 years. Upon her sudden departure to Azarath, she had missed the Gotham Towers attack by one year, the event that had defined young Master Bruce's life and also, his own. Arella told him of Azarath, of other dimensions and of the terrible Trigon, Raven's father and scourge of the universe.
Alfred much preferred this banter than watching the news. He couldn't do it anymore. After the screen had went white this morning, he had simply turned it off. The world may be going to hell, but Alfred Pennyworth was attending to the mistress of Wayne Manor and her mother. He had even attempted to feed Bruce while he surrounded himself in wi-screens like some illusionary fortress of light. If the world was going to end today, Alfred would die performing his duty to the inhabitants of Wayne Manor.
A sudden, stirring from the bed caught his attention. The old gentlemen stood transfixed as he watched his mistress begin to float and then levitate to an upright position, three whole feet above the bed. Alfred watched as the IV needle he had painstakingly placed in her arm pull free and fall to the floor. She was evidently still unconscious as her head slumped forward onto her chest.
"Mrs. Wayne!…" he began when Arella made motions for him remain still. He stood silent, but ready to catch Mrs. Wayne if she fell. Alfred watched as Raven spread her arms out, almost as wings.
And then he was assailed with memory and emotion.
Memories of a place he had never been… From Arella's recollections, he assumed this must have been Azarath. His soul was then filled with hope and triumph, uplifted. It was sweet nepenthe to the events of the past few days. As Alfred stared across at Arella, he realized that she too was experiencing the same emotions as he. Mrs. Wayne had always been able to make her feelings known and felt, but Alfred had no idea as to the true extent of her power.
It was then that the shadowy hound of crippling fear engulfed the room. The old man fought with everything he had, not to crumple in terror or cling to Raven's side. It was a terrible fear of the unknown, an overwhelming dread of what was to come.
Perhaps it was his own spark of duty or another emanation from Raven, but Alfred then felt the conscientious burden of responsibility. He stood upright again, the fear subsided. He would stand by the woman his charge had taken as wife in proud service. In his mind, he spoke the words 'I am here, Raven.'
As though his dedication had been returned tenfold, Alfred Pennyworth was awash with the most glorious love. Tears fell from his eyes as his heart swelled in his chest, expanding to his very fingertips. When he felt as if he would burst with unencumbered adoration - Raven fell.
Alfred had almost fallen under her weight, but had awkwardly caught her and managed to guide her still unconscious form to at least a tumbling landing on the bed. As he adjusted her arms and legs, he suddenly felt the paralysis overcome him. The emotional journey must have depleted him. He felt numb. With great effort, he managed to stumble back into his chair. You old fool, was this it? Could it be a stroke? He should be worried, but he could not muster the strength of concern as all cares fell from him to the hard, wooden floor and washed away.
He stayed that way for moments, gradually recovering his strength and will - when he witnessed a bizarre sight. A shadowy form, made of fire-and-ash with fiery eyes, seemingly born from Hell emerged from Mrs. Wayne. If he had to describe the thing, he would have called it a demon-bat. Its smoke-and-shadow wings carried it from the room and down the hall. Had Mrs. Wayne been possessed by a demon?
As the sun broke through the autumn clouds and sunlight once again spilled through the now silent bedroom, Raven Wayne opened her eyes and reached out to take the old man's hand.