"You also are stubborn like your mother as well...", Alfred gave a small chuckle before sighing gently, "Since a few weeks before your 7th birthday...".
Bruce widened his eyes, and then he sobbed, "I wasn't strong enough to say it clearly!", as tears released its hold, burying his head into his knees, and Alfred was confused yet worried as he shuffled closer, embracing the crying boy, "Shh, shh, what do you mean by that?", rubbing his little master's back gently and warmly.
Between gasps and sobs, Bruce replied, "On my birthday, when I turned 7...the cake...I...I didn't wish right...I wished for Mommy to get better...I should have wished that Mommy's really bad sickness was gone for good really fast, like she is normal again by the end of the day!", reverting to his other words for his parents.
As he was saying that, Thomas was helping Martha to the master bedroom when both of them overheard what was happening. It only took a few moments to figure out what had happened.
"I'm sorry, Master Bruce... I understand feeling so helpless at the whole ordeal... Lord knows your father's been taking it much worse in many ways...", Alfred said.
Bruce sniffled, "It's not fair, Alfred! I should have wished harder!", giving out a sob as he buried his head a bit deeper into his knees, and Alfred frowned, worried that Bruce is going to cry to himself all night, and was trying to think of something to say before he heard the shuffle of clothes and such, and looked over.
He gasped in surprise, "Master Thomas, Mistress Martha!", causing Bruce to pick up his head slightly, peeking to see his father looking tired yet sad, and his mother crying as she moved closer, and Bruce flinched slightly, closing his eyes again, choking back, "I'm s-sorry...I'm not a good son...".
Bruce felt his mother's familiar caress through his hair, "Oh, Bruce...", feeling Alfred's familiar presence leaving, with his mother's presence replacing him, feeling her other hand rub his back, "Shh, it's not your fault...You really aren't a bad son...You tried to help me through wishing on your birthday...It's not your fault that it's...it's difficult at times for me to get better here and there with medicines your father helped all those months before they get worn out by the disease fighting them back...Come on, please, give me a hug, look at me...".
"What...what if I...", Bruce whispered, and Martha replied, "You would never hurt me...That day, that snow day, I did that because I love you...I love seeing your smile, hearing your laugh...The disease would have happened sooner or later...It wasn't your fault...Please, open those beautiful eyes, my darling...For Mommy...".
Bruce sniffled, blinking his eyes away of tears, and picked his head up, peeking again at his mother, his mommy, and she gave a small, warm, motherly smile, "There's my darling...It's okay, I might be crying, but I'm crying for you because I love you, I care for you...Did I ever get angry at you when you hug me?".
"No...No, you weren't angry or hurt when I hug you...Is...it okay?", Bruce asked hesitantly, and Martha smiled a bit bigger, "Bruce, you make me feel better when I have your hug.".
Bruce perked up at that, and moved to move into her embrace, "Mommy.", hugging her warmly as she held him up and kissed his head, his forehead, "That's my little Bruce, my big boy...", feeling her shift, like an arm reaching out, and he then felt her stand up, and felt his daddy embrace with his big arms, cocooning his mommy and him as his mommy secured him, "Mommy, ain't I a bit heavy for you?".
Martha gave a warm chuckle, "Darling, I still have a bit of strength for this...And not even your father would stop me from comforting you as he's helping me a bit alongside...I think this calls for a sleepover in Mommy and Daddy's bed...".
Thomas might have argued that Bruce was a bit too old for that sort of thing now... but considering the situation and just the sheer fact that their days together might be very few... it was a reasonable exception.
Thomas helped Martha along as she comforted and carried Bruce, and glanced at Alfred as Martha smiled, "Thank you for being there for Bruce...", as Thomas nodded, "Yes, thank you, Alfred.".
"Of course.", Alfred nodded. "I apologize about what I said...", with an apologetic frown. "No, it's alright, he's a smart kid, he probably did figure things out quickly...", Thomas sighed.
Martha replied, "Clean up his little snafu, Alfred...Best not to make the chef upset if he sees the evidence.", with a slight wry smile, and Alfred bowed, "Naturally. Master Bruce deserves a break.", with a smile.
They nodded, and so, they left Bruce's bedroom, heading to the master bedroom, and after settling Bruce down, tucking him in, Martha asked warmly, "All warm and comfy, Bruce?", as he is in between his parents.
Bruce nodded, "Yeah...Daddy?", and Thomas replied, "Yes, son?", and Bruce whispered, "Are you mad that I wrangled the truth out of Alfred? I didn't mean to...but I wanted to know so badly as you or Mommy weren't talking to me like I am stupid...".
"No, no... we're not mad, Bruce...", Martha explained to him. "It was just... we didn't know how to really tell you all about this.".
"One of the hardest things is having to explain death to a child.", Thomas said. "Much less having to explain that a parent is... not going to be here for much longer...". Thomas didn't want to say 'death of a parent' because Martha wasn't dead yet.
Bruce nodded softly, "I...I guess a dis...disea...disease is really hard to get rid of than a flu?", as he never exactly knew the term, looking between his mother and father.
Thomas sighed deeply as he nodded, "Yes, son...It's basically a sickness of your mother's blood. The bad blood tries to hurt your mother in ways while I try all the best medicine to help make good blood to fight against the bad blood...That's why I am so focused on your mother...I really try to spend time with you, don't I? Are you angry at me, son?", as he and Martha always made sure to help Bruce understand and describe his daily emotions.
Bruce shook his head. "No...", he said. He really couldn't be. It wasn't like he had any control over that. But still, not having control; it just pained him to think about it because it seemed like there was nothing that could be done.
Thomas looked a bit relieved to hear that as Martha caressed through Bruce's hair, "You are really our resilient boy...I know it's scary, and you must feel helpless, but you do help me...You make me feel like I am there by your stories at school, in the park, and in your dreams, you brighten my days with your smile, your excitement when we play games, you help carry a cup or a bowl of oatmeal for me, you warm me up with your hugs and your selfless heart...".
"Even if I get into trouble sometimes?", Bruce whispered as he sometimes hits a local bully when they take it too far by having heard rumors from their parents that his father is a fool, ashamed of his own son in him, and that his mother is milking it out by tricking his father...whatever that means, but that she was called a bad word that he once heard the chef saying when he accidentally burned his hand without a mitt, while exploring without anyone noticing him, and that Alfred told him never to say it until for good reason, but only in a grown up situation then when he recounted the most recent event to him in the limo.
Thomas replied, "We both love you, son, even if you get into trouble sometimes, but you have to understand the consequences when we teach you...I know you have made Alfred promise last week, but the last time you got into trouble, I was called first by the principal, and since I was in a board meeting on one of my rare days from taking care of your mother, I had to send Alfred...The principal has told me the intricates of the event through the new security cameras, but the sound wasn't quite developed as you and this bully was somewhat distant from the cameras...", as Bruce's face paled.
Martha raised an eyebrow, "I had to wrangle your father into not taking away the special time of decorating the tree and having presents otherwise it'd have been a punishment, but we both agreed that we can't ruin Christmas, but after that, you are going to be grounded. Perhaps we could lift the grounding slightly if you tell us what happened...Please, Bruce, we need to know.".
"He said bad things... about you and Mommy...", Bruce admitted as Thomas sighed. The burdens of having Bruce in a private school where most of the attendings were either related to the wealthy or well-linked people of Gotham. The class size was decent enough but still; word could travel fast.
Martha frowned, "How bad? You know you could have walked away if it was stupidly bad...", and Bruce looked down, his fingers twiddling with the blanket, "The kind of bad mean...He...He said that his father called Daddy a fool and that Daddy's ashamed of me, ignoring me, like Mommy is better than me, and that Mommy is milking the attention, tricking Daddy...which I don't know what that means...And he called Mommy a really bad word...That was when I...I got angry...Alfred said that it was a word only intent in grownup situations...The bully...he maybe didn't know what it meant, but it was awfully mean...He called Mommy the 'b' word...", whispering the last part.
"What are they even telling those kids these days?", Martha whispered, practically horrified to hear someone around Bruce's age say those sorts of things... not to mention what was going on with the parents.
"Martha, please... ignore them, last thing we need is for you to waste any energy on that.", Thomas shook his head as she nodded. If anything, though, what was said practically relit an almost smothered fire inside of her; she was now praying whatever treatment Thomas had gotten strings pulled for would work just so she could practically finally let loose on those terrible parents for not only what they said but letting it spread to their children.
Thomas then looked at Bruce, "That's really brave of you to admit what happened, Bruce. Did Alfred tell you not to do it again?", and Bruce nodded, "He did, sir...".
"Good. I will let you down easy, but after Christmas, you will be grounded in the mornings before you will be free to do whatever you want in the afternoons, and if you behave very good including not sneaking any more gingerbread cookies until told that you could, you can try to stay up until midnight for New Year's Eve with us.", Thomas.
Bruce's eyes widened as he looked at his father, "You swear, Father?", reverting back to his mature age, that is, for a kid of his caliber, becoming focused on his father as he listened, waiting for the next thing he says.
"I swear.", Thomas smiled. In a way, he was proud of Bruce in defending his family honor, but there were probably better ways to go at that rather than simply wailing a rain of fists on the other person.
Martha kissed Bruce's forehead, smiling, "Now, it's getting rather late...It's time to go sleep, darling.", and Bruce smiled, "Yes, Mother...Can you sing my favorite lullaby, please?".
"Of course, Bruce...", Martha chuckled before singing the familiar lullaby that has been used more or less since Bruce's first appearance after his birth, and after several minutes, Bruce was deep asleep, his face eased away of worries and stress, a smile on his face, as his parents settled deeper into the blankets, their arms embracing around their son's back as they looked at each other over him.
Martha caressed Thomas' hand, whispering, "I don't know if it's the protein vial giving me more strength in my mind, and my body feeling a bit better after taking it or from hearing Bruce's confession, but I want to go all the way through the treatment to the procedure. I can't leave you or our son without trying for one last time...", as a familiar, long-gone light of fire in her eyes is coming back to life for Thomas to see.
"Thank you...", Thomas whispered back as he squeezed her hand. There were no guarantees; even she could tell that the odds were remote even from what little he had said to her, but that look in her eyes. Maybe... just maybe...
The next few weeks, thankfully, it seemed, that Martha wasn't getting any worse. If anything, the vials maybe at least kept her stable for a precious little more time. Thomas explained everything to Martha; that what was going to happen would be dangerous, but Martha was willing to take the risk. If successful, it was a miracle; if not, she pretty much had made her peace but damn it all, she's going to make sure to at least try to go out swinging, being as lively as she was before even into her final moments.
Of course, Martha was beyond relieved that the vials gave her more strength and more decent health as she was somehow able to attend Christmas without tiring out or such, making Bruce's experience more precious and more joyful, and celebrating New Year's Eve...
And the next two weeks into January, Bruce behaved, and he didn't get into any more trouble, even if he wanted to hit someone again, but after knowing the truth, though not the dangerous parts of the truth, yet he was able to keep control of his emotions, and such.
Then came the third week of January, Martha and Thomas made sure to tire Bruce out by playing games and helping him with his homework on a busy weekday while secretly arranging a phone call with Dr. Leslie Thompkins to give the all-clear signal when Wayne Industries is practically stringed out with low security for the night, with Thomas having to convince Alfred.
"Are you really sure that it's safe to get Mistress Martha out in the cold, even if she would be warm in the limo? It's one thing with reasonable distance of the balconies and the patio here, and she was fine all those past weeks, but this...I mean, Gotham is practically full of fumes and everything, sir...She might get really bad again...", Alfred bit his lip as he was curious and confused, especially after the orders of having the staff work double-time all day to tire them out so they couldn't notice the odd sight of the limo heading out really late into the night.
"It won't be long, we'll get in and then Dr. Thompkins will take over from there.", Thomas sighed. "Alfred... I don't know, but part of me feels like this might actually work. The way those vials... I honestly thought Martha wouldn't even make it to Christmas.".
"True; those certainly have been surprisingly helpful if at least able to keep her going a bit longer...", Alfred surmised thoughtfully with a small, appreciative smile.
Thomas nodded, "You should have seen her when she was upset and worried about not getting to Christmas, to see Bruce turn 8 next month, and being within my embrace...And now she's really getting to hope again, that she could see Bruce turn 8 if this works...Of course, there's the orders of Dr. Thompkins for her to recover and rest for a few more weeks after this...I really missed her spirit, Alfred, I want her to laugh again without coughing, and to run barefoot in the manor chasing Bruce, to be outside fully, to smell the trees, the flowers, the seasons changing...She had been like a prisoner, Alfred...It's a miracle that she hadn't gone mad with cabin fever when the manor got plenty of things to keep her occupied, and plenty of fresh air for a brief while when the sun is warm on the balconies.", with a sigh, "Hell, I had to order some people to build an indoor shallow pool when the outdoor pool was too dangerous as she loves swimming...", as he was scared that if she had an episode of really bad coughing and hacking, she would have drowned, panicking.
"I miss it too, sir. Always practically put a smile on my face to see her practically so happy.", Alfred admitted before he took a deep breath. "Alright, we'll do things the way you want them. I'll make sure to take as many precautions as needed.".
"Thank you, Alfred.", Thomas gave a small smile. Hopefully, the feeling in his gut would be right and this might actually work. It was almost a whirlwind of movement and anxiousness as everything moved into place.
Thomas certainly was taking a great risk to himself by what he was trying to do. If the board found out... Still, all seemed to be good as Thomas helped Martha inside and got her down to Thompkins' lab.