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Memories of the past

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Memories of the past

Time, for Alfred that word had not meaning anymore, or at least, it has some vague one. He could describe it like the sensation you got when you have been in a road trip on a car without stopping, untill everything passes through your eyes and the confusion between the day and the night make you wonder if you will ever arrive to your destination.

That was the sensation he have in the moment that he entered to the Gotham police station after the advice of the terrible success of that faditic night that changed not only his destiny. Not only his of course, but the destiny of an entire city, and of the most important for him, that night changed forever the life of his master, Bruce Wayne.


He stood on the doorstep, the rain falling around him and wetting his suit, soaking it, feeling his face with the icy breeze. The lights dazzled around him before turning off, his eyes were focusing only on the distant silhouette of that broken boy, staring at his feet, his gaze vacant. Next to him was the Gordon commissioner who had his hand on his back.

"Poor boy," he heard the voice of an officer utter from a distance.

"He will be fine," replied his partner. "He has all the money in the world."

´´You are sick, just left with no one in the world. Not even all the money in the world can fix it.

´´At least he has his butler to help count his money. Oh, Commissioner Gordon, there it is

´´Are you Alfred-Penny-worth?´´ Comissioner Gordon ask at the same time he stand up.

Alfred didn't know when he stopped hearing the voices, or when his legs ran to the boy who raised his eyes to look at him. A second later Bruce had rushed to meet him. The next he was hunched in his arms. An instant later they were both kneeling, hugging each other in silence.

It was a few moments, but for him, years had passed. Years that were shown before his eyes about the fate of the young man he had in his arms, if it was not for him by his side. It did not take him long to realize that it would have to be for him. And that was all he wanted.

´´Please, please, please ... ´´ Bruce's voice was almost inaudible, trembling, it was as if his soul had been broken into hundreds of pieces at the same time as new tears formed in his eyes "Don't leave me Alfred, I don't want to lose you"

Alfred felt his heart sink in his chest, a lump in his throat formed before looking into his eyes, not knowing what to say, but still, he uttered a single sentence.

´´Never...I will never go away, master Bruce. I promise´´

Commissioner Gordon considered himself a strong man like the steel that covered the buildings of the city, but the vision of the old butler carrying in his arms the son of the most beloved family in the city, covered with his sack, as they left of the station illuminated only by the yellowish lampposts. It was something that left a scar on his heart.

How long exactly had it been? Thirty years, maybe forty? Alfred did not know exactly. While he was in the musings that sometimes caught him, he felt a hand on his shoulder that made him jump, making him almost jump out of his seat in front of the range of photographs on the wall of his room.

´´Alfred? ´´

"Master Wayne!" He replied as he turned to the man, putting a hand to his chest.

"Is everything alright?" Bruce asked as he sat next to him, looking at him.

´´Oh´´ Alfred cleared his throat, thinking that if he should reprimand him for entering his room without knocking at the door or for having surprised him in this way

´´What did I teach you-about-knocking three times at every room before entering young man?´´

Bruce, dressed in civilian clothes – which was strange to look, considering that almost 80% of his time was Batman - looked at him angrily, as if for a moment he had stepped back into the past when he was just a child. When he realized what he had said, it was too late.

´´You were remembering´´ he said with a smile, preventing him from apologizing ´´Again, eh?´´

Alfred could only smile again by touching gently his face.

"I was just thinking about memories from the past, my dearest´´