After having cleared the cobwebs and ashes, Wayne Manor is almost what it used to be. If Bruce squints a little and forgets everything he's been through for a moment, the glow of his childhood comes back to him.
The scene - the splits in the floor, tears in the wallpaper his mother once picked to give the place some dazzle, and a few corroded doors that lead to the remains of a place he honestly can't recall (and a location Diana has no way of knowing) - allows him to stay at an emotional distance. What could have, should have, would have been of his life has changed even though Bruce won't admit it or admit the fact that it's c oming to him after a grueling 20 years. It's no longer about his parents and these ruins, it's about what could be, should be, will be.
Both he and Diana join Alfred by the doors, where they had first entered not even a month ago. To his and Alfred's surprise, they've done it.
Large, round table. Six chairs. And Diana's "room for more": near the cast of windows is a stack of chairs, with the stack being th e only shadow in the beams of sun that shimmer along the wall of computers, equipment, generators, a charging station for Victor, even a compact infirmary near the hallway that leading to a guest toilet and kitchen, with a certain Barry Allen in mind.
Above the frames of Alfred's glasses hangs what he needs to look up and see to believe it. A stretch of armory and artillery that sustains itself, with not one machine gun or rifle or even harpoon, and a row of experimental armory for Barry leaves no room for arms if Bruce was to change his mind.
As for the display cases down the hall, Bruce seems to have come to terms with the fact his mother will never fill that curio stand or China rack, and has left quite the job for Alfred to do on those streaks left behind by Bruce having taken a rag to the dust and cobwebs. Alfred can already see a Robin suit someday having a proper honoring, or Barry Allen possibly getting a place to store his suit, or perhaps a shrine and photos of Bruce's new family in a similar vein to the portraits of the Wayne's at the end of the hall that are finally seeing sunlight. And now, Bruce's smile for once.
For once, Bruce isn't alone.
Diana sets it in stone with, "The age of heroes has come again."
Bruce sighs , completely defeated as his smile grows bigger to the point of straining his wrinkles and greying hairline. "I guess it has. It had to…"
Not that he'll admit it - he turns his head to hide his smile - but Alfred has been right for the longest time. Bruce understands Alfred's joy when Diana takes Bruce's hand, and so begins what is not only a team but a family.
Both he and her should have done this sooner, for themselves and for the world. To think, it took the death of a god… while this Hall has taken only a few days, a bit of elbow grease, and contributions from some friends.
The monument outside, crafted and engraved with lasers, and hand delivered by Clark, blares the word JUSTICE throughout the district. Gotham to Metropolis, Chinatown to Hobs Bay, down the Gotham River. Not just a word, but an idea. A reminder to those in need, a symbol for those who look for a sign or an answer, a north star for anyone on this planet or in this galaxy to follow insearch of protection or reason or alliance –or trouble, in a place far from the citizens and their homes.
A bit cheesy, Bruce thinks, but hey.
Goofy, to Arthur. But Arthur can work with goofy. Hell, that waterfall that roars through the patches of trees surrounding the Manor? It was quite the job, but it's nothing if it means the goofy twink Barry Allen has a respite, some white noise to work to, some rumbling to drown out the blasting of the frequent thunderstorms or drunk lunati c s who think the highway is a Grand Prix and all the other sounds that Barry can't filter like the rest of them. It could be good for anyone on the team to get away from their intrusive thoughts.
And Arthur can pretend it's not from the heart, with all the things that Barry has to offer for the fight team. And not only his special abilities, or his perspective as this perpetual outsider, but these little things that make this Hall of Justice what it is. This reinforced computer, laced with encryptions and codes that Bruce and Alfred are, face it, too old and too wound up in the past to actually conjure. These softwares, these hardwares. This generator, the new charge that allows it to power this entire Manor, the cave that Bruce is constructing below, and all of its assets such as the flying fox, and even a line to most of the Labs that are based between the cities to serve as vantage points. It's all Barry Allen and Barry Allen alone. The dent in Alfred's trailer, and the oozing cheeseburger wrapper at the bottom of the main stairwell, that's Barry Allen too, but things happen after hours of using the Speed Force to help load things up.
Really no big deal, especially to Victor. If Victor was to come see this Hall of Justice for himself, he wouldn't mind, he would most likely be helping pick up these pizza boxes and greasy wrappers, and loading up the trash bags with what couldn't be recycled. In no way would he want to undermine Barry Allen's work, or tell Bruce what he needs to do to preserve the image and honor of the Wayne's, but he would serve as a guidance, a standard. A standard for the whole team, the one with the real world experience, and unbeknownst to them the only one that Arthur actually considered apologizing to and admitting that he is not a lunatic.