And here I am again! Welcome readers new and old to Batman: Faith. This is probably going to be the final shift in perspective we're going to get, and now we're all set with the cast. I hope this post comes out in time to say this, but Happy Thanksgiving! Other than that, please feel free to read, review and enjoy!
Alfred Pennyworth was a number of things to be proud of. A soldier. An actor. A friend. Most importantly, butler to the Wayne family. It was a simple enough life. Despite all of that, Alfred couldn't stand to look at his accomplishments, focusing—instead—on his failures. Especially in how he had failed Bruce.
He could only sigh as he knelt down in front of a single tomb. It was a beautiful sight, truly. Marble, clean and proper despite how long it had been. Two of the most important people in his world, taken far too soon. It was time for their usual routine, given it was the only peace Alfred felt he was getting as of late.
"Greetings, Thomas. Hello, Martha."
As always, it took Alfred a moment to compose himself. He should have been used to this sort of thing. It wasn't the first time he had visited their graves. It wouldn't be the last. But it didn't mean the pain would fade away.
Just when he thought he could stomach the sight of looking at the tomb without any sort of aching in his heart, his mind would only flash back to that damnable phone call.
If nothing else, Alfred was a professional. He would grieve as he always did. In the comfort of his room, away from prying eyes. For now, he would continue his duties, as fit as any good butler. With that, he brought out the supplies needed to tidy up the tomb, and got to work.
"Your son is certainly making waves, you know. Far more than when he first came home last year. " He idly said, picking at the little vines that had grown up along Thomas' side of the tomb, violets blooming. The barest hints of a smile were on his face, noting it was the same plants that Thomas had added here in his spare time. He had insisted, and Alfred didn't have the heart to say they likely wouldn't have lasted. Alfred was pleased to see that, in the end, his instincts had been wrong.
"He still isn't exactly doing what… well… any of us would have wanted, I do have to admit. The company's fine, by the way. I've been doing my best to take care of it in your son's absence. We're finally getting to work on some of the things we used to talk about, Thomas."
And what a chore that had been. Alfred could understand the pain that Bruce had been going through, more than anyone. But they all grieve differently. Bruce simply took his pain… and vanished.
Bruce had inherited a burden, one no child should have had to deal with. He couldn't handle it, and left the company in Alfred's care. The only consolation was that Alfred knew Thomas and Martha better than anyone, so it was easy to find compromises where the board only saw profits.
A small chip was forming on the corner of Thomas' side. Alfred would have to make a note to get that fixed in the near future.
"Why, if I hadn't known any better, I would say young Master Bruce has inherited both of your spirits. He's intelligent. So much smarter than either of us had considered. He could have been a doctor at this point, if he pushed his mind to it. But his anger. Goodness, his anger. Sometimes it scares me."
Most nights, Bruce would stumble back into the cave that they had set up shop in. Each and every night, he was either nursing new wounds, or fixing up old ones. Alfred was given the task of washing off the blood Bruce often had on his hands, or repairing the suit. The only consolation was that he was still talking to Alfred. But now he was so… reserved. Cold. The boy Alfred helped raise was gone, replaced by a wall of fury and stubborn pride.
There was dirt forming around Martha's name. Unacceptable. Alfred reached out, brushing the carved letters as carefully as he could manage.
"I'm not sure what I'm doing anymore, Martha. But I feel like I can't talk to him. You always had a way with Bruce, especially when he wouldn't talk to Thomas or myself. It seems like I'm losing him. It's all because of this city. This damnable city. It takes everything good and spits it out a broken mess. Or worse." Alfred was not ashamed to admit that he lost his sensibilities for a moment. He took a shuddering breath, taking a moment to control himself.
His anger was subdued, at least for the moment, by a sight beneath Martha's name. A small rose had formed. Alfred considered cutting it, before deciding it was best to leave it there for the time being. Martha did enjoy roses, after all.
"He's throwing himself out there. Every night. It's always something new. A new fight. A new scar. It's as if the boy wants to get himself killed. But it's all he does now. All he's been doing. Goodness, it scares me. I was never a doctor, not like you. Or Thomas for that matter. I tried to stop him. Dear god, I tried. But what if it wasn't enough? What if, one of these days, that boy does something stupid and never comes back? I-"
Alfred sighed, head hanging for a moment as he tried to compose himself. In his room. He could have a moment in his room. But Thomas and Martha needed him. They always did. The tomb was in far better shape now. But when that chip was repaired? It would be impeccable.
"Perhaps I have failed him, in some ways. I'm not perfect, by any means. But I promise you. Both of you, I'll do my best to take care of Bruce. Even if he doesn't want it sometimes… I'll never stop. I swear it."
With that promise, Alfred stood up. He noticed small drops of water. A frown graced his aged features as he looked up. There were no clouds, and the sun was still shining. He reached up to his own eyes, and blinked away the tears that had fallen.
"Goodness me, my apologies."
Alfred fished out a handkerchief, dabbing his eyes with it. Tidying himself up, he gave one last bow to the couple before him.
"Until next time, Thomas. Take care, Martha."
With that, he marched back towards the Manor. He had some duties to uphold, after all.
Alfred carefully made his way down the stairway, glancing around at the dank and ominous cave that had slowly become Bruce's home. Not the comfortable, carefully sorted out room with all the amenities that one could afford. No.
But no. Home was the dank, underground cave with a massive computer screen. Home had turned into the area where he would test insane gadgets, or constantly train his body. And home was especially where the armored suit that Bruce had donned would loom, acting as a watchful guardian for him, waiting for its master to rise.
Speaking of which, said Master was currently sprawled out on a cot that Alfred had only intended for emergencies. Much to his irritation, Bruce had instead taken it as an invitation to forgo his actual bed in favor of the cave.
The bats stirred briefly above the duo. They were certainly an… interesting challenge to manage, but Bruce had insisted on leaving them all there, regardless of his concerns. They weren't Alfred's main concern, however. In his current state, Bruce was. He always would be.
He was still resting, thankfully. If nothing else, the fact that he was getting at least 6 hours of sleep was honestly the only real blessing that Alfred could count on. It showed that there was still some reasoning with him, even if Bruce had once again returned with a new wound. A series of bruises that were already starting to turn blue and purple. Several other similar patterned hits across Bruce's back could be seen, most of them turning green or yellow.
The wounds that Bruce had received a few days before hadn't gotten worse, at the very least. His latest nightly venture was tame, and that was better than nothing.
They were all healing, yes, but Bruce wasn't simply letting them stay that way. 'Criminals,' in his words, 'were getting bolder.' More prepared. And that meant that he would have to be as well. Alfred despised how much Bruce was pushing himself, but there wasn't much he could do. Not at this rate. Not without starting another argument.
With that in mind, Alfred left a carefully prepared breakfast for Bruce, full of protein and all his other needs, then marched back up the stairs. The rest of the Manor had to be taken care of, especially given that they were finally celebrating Halloween again. At first, Bruce had objected, citing no need for the festivities.
But Alfred, for once, put his foot down. Appearances were important, after all, especially for someone like Bruce Wayne. If he wasn't going to at least take the effort to go out and make his own public appearances, they could at least show that the Manor was open to anyone who wanted to make their way over.
In the years that Bruce had vanished, Alfred had… attempted to keep in high spirits for all the holidays. Attempted being the keyword. But it was often hard to find the joy of celebrating things when everyone was gone. So for a time, Wayne Manor had shut its doors for just about any big occasion.
While Halloween might have been a grim time to actually open the doors for once, perhaps this change of pace could do both him and Bruce some good. A sense of something normal in what their life had become.
Alfred found himself losing track of time as he stepped back outside, directing a small crew of helpers to at least make the front of the manor look approachable. It was a simple set up, but simplicity worked in most cases.
Cobwebs along the door, small skeletons and pumpkins. No bats, however. He had to handle enough of the real blasted things, a fake wouldn't do here. But all the other decorations? They were doing their magic, and hopefully it looked inviting enough for people to show up. With the decorations looking well enough, Alfred moved back inside to check on the other things for today.
Already he had stocked up on a large amount of candy, prepared small bags of goodies. Things to make the holiday a bit more enjoyable. It had been a while, so perhaps Alfred was overcompensating. And maybe, just maybe, he was starting to enjoy his work again.
A small movement caught Alfred's attention, out of the corner of his eye. Bruce had already woken up, and for once was out of the cave. He turned around, giving the younger man a short bow.
"Good afternoon, Master Bruce. It's good to see you awake. I was going over a few things, and there was something I wanted to discuss."
Bruce gave a non-committal grunt, nursing the mug of coffee that Alfred had left for him downstairs. At the very least, he was dressed in a robe, covering up his injuries.
"The decorations for the manor are nearly complete. I'm sure that we'll be catching a few curious eyes by the end of tonight." Alfred said, reaching into one pocket and pulling out an envelope. "But I believe this might be of a greater note to you. Wayne Enterprises is holding a gala for Halloween. I know it's been sometime since you've been out in public, but this feels like—"
"I'm not too sure, Alfred. There's more important things to do."
Alfred had been afraid of this. He let out a quiet sigh, shutting his eyes to collect himself.
"Master Bruce. While I do understand that your… nightly activities… are important—"
"Important? They're my only concern right now, Alfred."
"But they're not. You're Bruce Wayne. This is your company's event. And it would be in poor taste for you to not show up. If nothing else, at least come for an hour. Make yourself known, let the people see you." Alfred took a step forward, holding out the invitation for Bruce to properly see.
"If you truly want to make a difference, then you must take these opportunities to attack the problem from every angle available to you. And this one won't involve you risking life and limb. It's one night, Master Bruce, to raise a bit of money. Please. All I want you is to consider it."
Bruce didn't say anything, instead just taking the invitation out of Alfred's hand and slowly stumbling away. Likely, to either shower or lie down once more. Either way, he could only watch Bruce and frown. The fact that he took the invitation in the first place was a better sign than Alfred was hoping.
In any case, there were more preparations to check over. The day was still young, and the two of them had far too much time on their hands. With that, Alfred began his trek through the manor, already making notes to prepare two suits. A respectable tuxedo, since the gala had specified black tie, and the suit both of them knew that Bruce would prefer to be out in, especially on Halloween.
As bitter as Alfred had become, he only hoped his words couldn't be proven wrong. It was only one night, after all, and even Bruce deserved a chance to rest.
Next Chapter: 12th December