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Chapter 40 - Hurt

Night descended on Bristol, the darkness spreading from the west and challenged only by thin slivers of moonlight. Bruce sat for a long time in the darkness of his father�s study, sipping slowly from the tea Alfred had brought, staring out across the river at the city. The skyline was a broken thing, a mute chaos of towering office towers and housing projects, small suburban homes and bridges and tunnels, the blood-red neon of sex and violence settling over everything like a fog. He stared at his city, numb from the ugliness of it.

The door to the study opened a crack, light spilling into the still, silent room. Lucy hesitated at the doorway, but he felt her decision almost before she made it. The child entered, her footsteps soft and irregular, her damaged foot dragging over the thick oriental rugs carpeting the room.

�What is it, Lucy?� Bruce asked tiredly. She came to stand before him, her thin little face glowing in the soft darkness. Her fragile body was silhouetted against the distant lights of Gotham and he closed his eyes against their future.

�When is Selina coming back?� she asked him. Bruce rubbed his eyes.

�She�s not,� he said. Lucy�s face was concealed in the darkness.

�Why?� she asked, her voice small.

Bruce shrugged, his eyes burning a little. �She and I had a fight,� he explained, his voice sounding strange and far away. Something twitched on the edge of his mind then, but Bruce found himself ignoring it, ignoring Batman�s instinct.

�Is she coming back?�

He squeezed his eyes shut against the soft hope in the question.

�No,� he told her.

The child didn�t respond, and after a moment he realized Lucy was crying. Bruce listened to the sound of a child�s heart breaking with the same dull horror he�d felt since watching Selina�s cab pull away from the house hours ago. The world seemed to be fading. He was surprised to feel tears slipping down his own face.

He picked Lucy up and settled back in the chair, and they cried together. He held her for a long time, waiting for her sobs to subside, hoping his voice would sound strong for her. He had to continue this for her sake. But when he spoke, Bruce only heard the tears and confusion in his voice.

�I don�t know what to do, Lucy,� he whispered against her head. �I can�t�I can�t go on without her.�

Lucy didn�t say anything. Bruce wiped his face, wondering why the room was suddenly so hot, why his eyes felt so dry. The answer was there, dancing at the periphery of his mind, but he couldn�t focus on it. Something was wrong.

He tried to lift his arm to set Lucy on the floor but his limbs wouldn�t work. �Lucy,� he tried, but saw that the little girl was asleep, her dreams deep and drugged.

Drugged.

�Alfred!� he bellowed with all the strength left in him. The study remained dark and quiet, the lights of Gotham still glittering dully against the river. He heard footsteps, fuzzy and muffled as they came towards the study. The door to the room opened and Alfred was there, suddenly, his movements quick and efficient as he removed the sleeping child from Bruce�s arms.

�Wha-� Bruce tried, his brain refusing to form the question he so desperately needed to ask.

Alfred gathered Lucy into his arms, her head lolling on his shoulder. The child was completely insensible. The butler straightened, staring down at his master, at the young boy he had raised to unhappy manhood.

�I will destroy this village in order to save it, Master Bruce,� Alfred said.