Author

Author’s Notes: Legacies is part of the ongoing series of stories that I call "Under The Shadows Of A Portrait."

Disclaimer: Without Prejudice. The names of all characters contained
here-in are not mine. No Infringements of these copyrights are
intended, and are used here without permission.

The long metal drawer was pulled from its slot in the wall. The bank teller set it on the table with a soft thud. “Here you go, Mr. Pennyworth. Please let me know if I can be of further assistance. I’ll be right outside.” The man left him to view the contents of the safe deposit box in private.

Dr. Thomas Wayne believed in being prepared – or perhaps foretold his own destiny. Shortly after the birth of his son, he’d asked to speak with Alfred on a personal matter. The particulars of that evening were forever etched in his memories.

“Alfred you’ve been a good friend to Martha and myself. I know that if anything were to happen to us, you’d be a great father to Bruce.”

He opened the box and reverently reached for the letter. A letter written in the hand of Dr. Wayne, giving him detailed direction regarding Bruce’s future. He unfolded the gold embossed stationary and read the instructions in silence, even though the words were known by heart.

From his childhood and beyond, Alfred had taken special care to comply with his friends’ aspirations for their only child – dreams he also shared for the man he thought of as his son.

He reached again into the box for the small, yellow envelope that had lain beneath the letter. He opened the clasp and spilled its contents onto his hand. He closed his fist, grasping the items in a tight squeeze, memories threatening to overwhelm him. The rings were symbols of their love and hope for the future. He put the rings back into the envelope and slipped it into his coat pocket. He patted the pocket with a smile. Perhaps the time is right, he mused.

When the first rays of the morning sun grandly illuminated his bed, he awoke refreshed. He was seldom grateful for Alfred's insistence on drawing the curtains back the same time every morning. But, since rest hadn't eluded him this night, the bright morning light was not as foreboding.

He walked into the breakfast nook and picked up the newspaper set on the table. As Alfred placed a plate before him, he scanned through various topics of news before finally settling on the business section. He finished reading a particular column of interest about rumors of a possible merger between rival firms of Wayne Tech, then turned his attention to his breakfast. As he folded the paper, he noticed a small white box atop the plate supposed to be holding his scrambled eggs. He looked at the man he had come to know as a second father with an unspoken question. Alfred stood rigidly at the side of the table, head held high. His eyes were fixed directly ahead, a rare display of servitude that allowed him to betray nothing.

Bruce reached for the box and glanced at Alfred again, but the stoic butler displayed no hint as to the contents of the small container. Shrugging with interest, he grudgingly took off the lid and looked at the items with immediate recognition.

It'd been a long time since he had seen these. The last time was as a child and they were worn by his parents. He stood quickly, his chair falling behind him with a crash as he absently made his way to the window. Various emotions flooded through him at once – love, despair, hate, vengeance….

A firm hand gently squeezed his shoulder. He hadn't realized Alfred had moved closer.

"Do I dare?" Tears spilled freely from his eyes and his voice cracked with emotion. He couldn't help but remember their loss and the losses he'd suffered since them.

Alfred cupped Bruce's hand in his and placed the rings in it, closing it with his other hand. He held him in this manner as he spoke.

"Yes, my boy. Yes." Bruce felt Alfred squeeze his hand in reassurance, then watched as he walked out of the room.

Bruce Wayne sat in front of the massive Cray computer making entries
from the previous night's patrol into the log. "Is everything
ready?" he asked his butler.

"Good," Bruce acknowledged. He continued typing the log entry,
pausing only for a moment to watch as Alfred began the climb up the
stairs leading to the Manor.

He heard the faint hum of the Watchtower's transporter,
indicating her arrival. He stood, clad for the occasion in a black
Italian dress suit, then waited.

The multi-colored interaction of matter and energy coalesced in the
final stages of materialization, forming the woman of his dreams.
The woman with whom he intended to spend the rest of his life. She
materialized and something about her body language indicated there
was something amiss. He frowned inwardly, realizing with a pang of
regret that this was not going to be the happy occasion he'd
planned.

She stepped down into his embrace. "What is it?" he asked,
as he felt her arms tighten around him.

"Of course." He led her to a chair in front of the massive
computer, then sat in the one next to her.

"The mission was a success. We defeated Felix Faust. Hades once
again rules upon the throne of Tartarus."

She looked away. "There is something else. Something that Hades
said when Shayera and I rescued him."

"He thinks…he said..." She straightened, gathering her
courage. "He thinks that he is my father."

Greek mythology spoke of Hippolyta's torrid affair with Hades.
Bruce suddenly realized that the lore might be based in
fact. "Could he be right?"

She looked away again. "It's possible," she admitted
then turned back to face him. "That's why I need to go back
home.
To talk with my mother and discover the truth."

"I told Shayera that it did not. That I knew who raised me and
what I was raised to do." She stood and began to pace the small
platform that held the brain of the Batcave. "That was the
truth. I neither desire nor want a father in my life. My life was
not lacking because of his absence and now only serves as a
complication."

"Yes," she admitted than sat back down, taking his hands in
hers. "I won't be gone for long."

She leaned in closer, this time lifting his chin to face her. "I
love you," she told him, then kissed him goodbye.

Diana gazed out the window of her childhood room, fondly remembering the gods of her youth. She watched the sun as it disappeared beyond the horizon, saying a silent prayer to Helios - the god of the sun - who rose each morning from the east, riding his chariot through the sky to descend in the west. He saw all things in his travels and she prayed for his knowledge.

childhood bedroom watching as the last of the sun’s rays disappeared just beyond the “What is it, my daughter? Are you still unable to reach the Justice League?” Hippolyta asked.

Diana shifted uneasily. It was an almost impossible task to try to find words to inform Hippolyta of her intentions to return to man’s world – or more accurately, to return to a particular man. Her initial response was to be evasive, but the fact that her mother had served as her one true confidant for more than a thousand years overrode her desire for secrecy.

“It is not the League that I am trying to contact, but a particular member.”

Diana felt the fabric of her mother’s white gown brush lightly against her back. “Is this member the one who has captured your heart?” she asked, her hands resting gently on her shoulders.

“Yes,” she said and smiled. “I recognize the signs. I am no stranger to love, my daughter – or to lust.” She kissed the top of her head. “Are you certain it is the former and not the latter?”

“Very certain, mother. It is my hope to make a life with him. I already consider his home mine.”

Hippolyta moved to the other side of the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Which one of the Justice League heroes has taken your heart, my dearest?”

Diana moved and sat next to her mother, reaching for the hand that stroked her cheek. “Batman - his name is Bruce,” she answered and her heart leapt at the sound of his name on her lips.

“Ah! I remember him well,” Hippolyta said. “You are not so unlike your mother. You are attracted to the same darkness that had once allured me to Hades.”

Diana’s anger flared at the mention of Hades. When she’d first arrived on the island, she had confronted her mother about Hades’ declaration that she was his daughter. Although Hades had been with her mother when she was formed into clay, much to Diana’s relief, it was Hippolyta who petitioned the gods for her life – and Hippolyta alone, who raised her. For her mother to make such a comparison was fallacious.

“He is nothing like Hades, mother. The darkness that shrouds Bruce is not rooted in evil, but pain.” She paused, turning to the window’s view of the horizon. She was homesick. “He does not give his heart easily, but when he does, he gives it fully.”

Hippolyta stood and lifted Diana chin to meet her gaze. “When will you leave?” she asked with a sad smile.

She felt the gentle squeeze of her mother’s hand as she stood to leave. “Sleep well, my child.”

The cave was cold – however the owner’s mood cast an additional chill felt to the bone. Shivering inwardly, Alfred stood behind the man he considered his son, determined to discover the events that led to his current state of reclusion.

He decided to try the direct approach. “Sir, Miss Diana has been trying to contact you,” Alfred informed his charge. “May I ask why you are ignoring her calls?”

He placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “Too busy for the woman you intend to marry?” Alfred gently pressed.

Bruce stiffened under his touch. “She returned to Themyscira- her home,” he answered icily, then returned to his log entries

Alfred clucked. “For a visit I presume? Wayne Manor is also her home.” He turned the chair so that Bruce would have to face him. “May I ask if something has happened to change that, sir?”

“Where Diana is concerned, I wouldn’t presume to stop you,” Bruce muttered under his breath, then sarcastically added. “You’ve played the role of matchmaker quite adroitly.”

Alfred had never allowed such behavior from him in the past – as a child – and he certainly would not allow it now. “You will not take that tone with me, young man. We are a family. Something has happened to change the course of your relationship with Miss Diana and I deserve the dignity of an answer. Your relationships not only affect you, but me and your son.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled and Alfred could see glimpses of the boy he raised in his demeanor. “It’s just…not easy for me…”

Alfred rested both hands on either side of Bruce’s shoulders. “Why is Miss Diana in Themyscira?” His voice was laced with sympathy.

“She said there were ‘issues’ she needed to work out with Hippolyta,” Bruce paused and Alfred recognized the difficulty of his next statement. ‘That she was going home.”

“She has been trying to contact you on the Justice League’s communications system. It sounds that her visit was not as permanent as you seem to think.”

Alfred nodded in understanding. Emotionally, Bruce was still that young, frightened boy that was put under his care. His range of understanding in emotional matters was limited.

“You are also her home,” he said gently and straightened his coat. “Do you remember when Master Richard first came to live with us?”

“It took him some time to consider us his family…to look upon Wayne Manor as his home.”

Alfred lifted his hand in a silent chastisement of the interruption. “In time, Master Richard not only considered the Manor his home, but now looks upon you as his father.”

“But, when he recalls life with his parents, those memories are looked upon with great affection. He still considers the small circus and its people his family – his home,” Alfred finished.

Bruce stood, turning his back to Alfred. “I’m not good at this,” he admitted. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

Alfred suddenly understood Bruce’s anguish. “Ah, so her returning home is yet another excuse to end the relationship?”

“There are times, I admit, that you try even my patience,” Alfred said, trying to lighten the man’s sour mood. “But as I have promised, I would never leave you.”

Bruce turned around. “But you have left me. You’ve gotten angry, disappointed – you left.” Alfred remembered when Bruce’s back was broken by Bane and his stubborn determination to press on against all odds. He left, hoping that Bruce would regain his senses. He remembered other occasions when it became necessary to leave, for Bruce’s own good, never his own.

“My boy,” Bruce looked away. “I may have had to leave your services, but my heart never left your side. And, it is not as difficult to love you as you seem to believe.” Alfred turned to leave, then thought better of it and lifted the phone off the cradle, handing it to Bruce. “Call her, before it is too late.”

Alfred left Bruce to his thoughts. This was a decision he would have to make for himself. He could only pray that the guidance he had given would help him to make the right one. The younger man was still staring at the phone when he reached the Cave’s exit.