never gonna let you down; alfred (yes_sir) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-12-05 21:20:00
narrative: wayne manor, alfred p
Who: Alfred Pennyworth What: Alfred finds Helena's letter Where: Batcave, the Manor When: fuzzy, right after this Warnings: sads, but not too sads
When Bruce brought the body to the cave, that was the first time that Alfred had actually seen Damian.
He noticed some of the Wayne resemblances.
He didn’t hover then, letting those who knew Damian tend to him. Whatever they didn’t or couldn’t handle, he would see to later. Like the next morning, when he forced Bruce to look somewhat after himself, to eat. The rest of the family was probably brooding, too, and Alfred would have to contact them. But as Bruce had been priority number one, the Cave was priority number two. He rolled back his dress shirt sleeves, prepared for difficult work.
But the body had been cleaned, and there was a letter addressed to him.
Alfred furrowed his eyebrows and plucked the letter from its perch. His eyes skipped to the writer’s signature first—Helena Wayne—and Alfred sat down to read the words carefully.
Clothes for the burial, of course. Or cremation, after his talk to Bruce. Damian would be cremated, in some suit. The zebras would be seen to. Alfred agreed with demand after demand with no hesitation. The children hurt by Crane would be seen to. It was an easy enough thing for Alfred to pay them the interest. It didn’t even cross his mind not to do what Helena asked.
All he wanted to read in this letter was where she was. That she was safe. She didn’t write that. Instead, she wrote: you didn’t meet him when he was at his best—
Twice. Damian had died twice, been here twice, and Alfred didn’t know much of anything about him. He was Bruce’s son. He was scared. He was lonely. He was young. And now he was dead, and Alfred would never get to know him more than that.
Alfred took a deep, shakey breath, covering his face with one hand.
He sat for a few minutes in the stillness of the Cave before getting to his feet. He folded the letter and put it in his vest pocket. His footsteps echoed as he stood by Damian again to study his face for signs of the Wayne genes. The butler placed his hand on the boy’s face. “I’ll take care of matters, sir, and I’ll try to take care of Miss Helena, too. She can’t be any more stubborn than her father.”