Wayne Manor to Gotham Cemetery, Gotham City, January 21, evening
Bruce's mood had not improved throughout the day and into the night. At all. He tried everything. Brooding. Rage-sketching scary costumes. Glaring at the rainstorm outside. Yelling at no one. In fact, he was coming back around to that one now as he stood under the giant painting of his parents in his den.
"What am I still doing this for?" he snarled to himself. "It's got to be one or the other. I can't have it both ways! I can't put myself on the line as long as there's someone waiting for me to come home!"
In his anger, he didn't even hear Alfred coming into the room. "Miss Beaumont will be glad to know you feel that way, Master Bruce. She's holding on line one, sir." With a well-practiced calm, Alfred gestured toward the phone. Bruce looked indecisive for several moments before Alfred asked, simply, "Master Bruce?"
"I can't, Alfred. Not now," Bruce said, turning to walk out of the room.
"What shall I say, sir?" Alfred asked, taken aback. The Bruce Wayne he knew wasn't perfect by any means, but he was sure of himself at all times. This was unexpected. Frankly, it was frightening.
"I... I don't know," Bruce said. With a swift pound on the door frame, he repeated, more shoutingly this time, "I just don't know!"
*****
At a time like this, there was only one place Bruce could go. It wasn't long before he was in Gotham Cemetery despite the weather, talking to his parents' grave.
"It doesn't mean I don't care anymore," he said, hanging his head in shame and confusion in front of the massive grave marker. "I don't want to let you down, honest, but... it... It just doesn't hurt so bad anymore!" His gaze rose, staring at the name 'WAYNE' as he pleaded, "You can understand, can't you? I can give money to the city, they can hire more cops! Let someone else take the risk! It's different now!"
A roll of thunder was the only response. "Please, I need it to be different now," Bruce begged. He dropped to his knees as if in prayer for he first time since he was a child. "I know I made a promise. But I didn't see this coming. I didn't count on being happy." He reached out, practically hugging the marker as he asked his parents, "Please, tell me that it's okay."
"Maybe they already have," Andrea said, walking up from behind him, carrying an umbrella like a rational person in such weather. Bruce stood up and turned to face her. "Maybe they sent me."
A moment hung in the air, interrupted only by the sound of rain. Andrea ran over to embrace Bruce, to give him a shoulder to lean on. To his surprise, he let her.
And in that moment, Bruce knew that his grand Plan was for naught. It was over. He could actually choose happiness.
And so he had.
[OOC: Do I even have to say 'From Mask of the Phantasm' at this point? I think not.
"What am I still doing this for?" he snarled to himself. "It's got to be one or the other. I can't have it both ways! I can't put myself on the line as long as there's someone waiting for me to come home!"
In his anger, he didn't even hear Alfred coming into the room. "Miss Beaumont will be glad to know you feel that way, Master Bruce. She's holding on line one, sir." With a well-practiced calm, Alfred gestured toward the phone. Bruce looked indecisive for several moments before Alfred asked, simply, "Master Bruce?"
"I can't, Alfred. Not now," Bruce said, turning to walk out of the room.
"What shall I say, sir?" Alfred asked, taken aback. The Bruce Wayne he knew wasn't perfect by any means, but he was sure of himself at all times. This was unexpected. Frankly, it was frightening.
"I... I don't know," Bruce said. With a swift pound on the door frame, he repeated, more shoutingly this time, "I just don't know!"
*****
At a time like this, there was only one place Bruce could go. It wasn't long before he was in Gotham Cemetery despite the weather, talking to his parents' grave.
"It doesn't mean I don't care anymore," he said, hanging his head in shame and confusion in front of the massive grave marker. "I don't want to let you down, honest, but... it... It just doesn't hurt so bad anymore!" His gaze rose, staring at the name 'WAYNE' as he pleaded, "You can understand, can't you? I can give money to the city, they can hire more cops! Let someone else take the risk! It's different now!"
A roll of thunder was the only response. "Please, I need it to be different now," Bruce begged. He dropped to his knees as if in prayer for he first time since he was a child. "I know I made a promise. But I didn't see this coming. I didn't count on being happy." He reached out, practically hugging the marker as he asked his parents, "Please, tell me that it's okay."
"Maybe they already have," Andrea said, walking up from behind him, carrying an umbrella like a rational person in such weather. Bruce stood up and turned to face her. "Maybe they sent me."
A moment hung in the air, interrupted only by the sound of rain. Andrea ran over to embrace Bruce, to give him a shoulder to lean on. To his surprise, he let her.
And in that moment, Bruce knew that his grand Plan was for naught. It was over. He could actually choose happiness.
And so he had.
[OOC: Do I even have to say 'From Mask of the Phantasm' at this point? I think not.