[eddie/bruce look for the batcave]
[Wayne Manor was a lot of different things to a lot of different people, but to Bruce, it was simply home. It was the one place he felt safe, where he felt free. The quiet didn't bother him, the empty halls and locked doors were normal, natural, he'd grown up in that environment. But he still remembered the early days, when his parents were still alive, when there where people everywhere—people who worked in the garden and the kitchen and were as much family as those connected by blood.
They were all gone, now.
Somebody still tended to the grounds but Bruce never saw them. Alfred cleaned, and he helped, and Alfred cooked, and Alfred did everything. A lot of rooms were left untouched, furniture covered by white sheets and curtains drawn.
Alfred would have answered the door when Ed knocked, too, but Alfred was gone. It was jarring, to return home seeking comfort from all the strange things he'd learned to find... nothing. No one. Alfred was always, always there, but now he wasn't, and Bruce didn't know what to do. He was eighteen, he was an adult, he should be fine on his own. (He wasn't.)
It took almost five minutes for the lock to click, for the door to creak open. Bruce had tried really, really hard to hide any traces of tears, and he was in dark pants and a polo shirt.] Hi. [He managed a smile, small but genuine. He didn't have a lot of friends, but he liked Ed, and he was the only one he trusted with the Batcave thing.] Come in. [He stepped back to give him room.]