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thiccpersonality · 1 month ago

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Forget Me Not

(Before you start reading: I must warn this is an extremely long fic, the word count coming in at 27,591 words. If you'd prefer to read it somewhere not on Tumblr, I posted it here on my AO3: My Story. However, if you enjoy reading fics as long as Pinocchio's lying nose, please enjoy! 💛)

Relationships:

Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne

Batfamily Members & Alfred Pennyworth

Clark Kent & Alfred Pennyworth

Diana (Wonder Woman) & Alfred Pennyworth

Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne

Diana (Wonder Woman) & Bruce Wayne

Diana (Wonder Woman) & Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne

Batfamily Members & Bruce Wayne

Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne

Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne

Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne

Characters:

Alfred Pennyworth

Bruce Wayne

Clark Kent

Diana (Wonder Woman)

Dick Grayson

Jason Todd

Tim Drake (DCU)

Damian Wayne

Kate Kane (DCU)

Barbara Gordon

Stephanie Brown

Cassandra Cain

Ace the Bat-Hound (DCU)

Leslie Thompkins

Additional Tags:

Angst

Fluff and Angst

Fluff

Fluff and Humor

Family Fluff

Hurt/Comfort

Emotional Hurt/Comfort

Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Hurt

Emotional Hurt

Fluff and Hurt/Comfort

Character Death

Death

Sickfic

Sick Character

Dementia

Old Age

Alfred Pennyworth is the Best

Good Parent Alfred Pennyworth

Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth

Good Parent Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne Loves Children

Bruce Wayne is Good With Kids

Jason Todd is a Batfamily Member

Alfred Pennyworth Needs a Hug

Bruce Needs a Hug

Everyone Needs A Hug

Hugs

Bruce Wayne Gets a Hug

Everyone Gets A Hug

It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better

Bittersweet Ending

Disease: a disorder of structure or function in a human, animal, or plant, especially one that has a known cause and a distinctive group of symptoms, signs, or anatomical changes.

Everyone should know why a disease would be a frightening ordeal to go through, it's something that usually spells death for the person or people who have it, it's like having a sickness but worse...almost as if the term itself is pre-warning those who are hearing of it that there is a high chance they will die. A disease is intimidating in many ways, there are some there is absolutely no cure for, some where you just have to hope and pray that the outcome won't be as bad as any other persons case that disease has gotten it's cold, suffocating tendrils on.

There is an uncertainty and fear that strikes through the heart of the victim or victims and their families when such news is relayed that a disease has taken root to the person, it plants an uncertainty in the soil of your heart like a little seed, quickly taking root and spreading anxiety and doubtfulness in the future to come for yourself or your loved one like a stubborn weed.

There are many kinds of diseases, but one that Bruce finds the most horrifying is the disease of one's mind, it can show up in multiple ways...he has seen it before: The psychopathy and delusions of the rogue gallery for one, the weariness and depression from the pain of one's life for another, something that can spread so quickly from one bad day that it changed their minds forever is something both fascinating and haunting. But the one disease of mind that scares Bruce the most are the ones that can remain unseen, most likely because the disease is being stubborn or perhaps it was too late?

All Bruce knows is that for him, his disease is death...or maybe it's the opposite way around?

Death always seemed to cling to Bruce as if he's it's only lifeline, which is absurd considering what death does, but sometimes that thought causes the man himself to wonder if death is just as tired of it's job as anyone else is? If it is just hoping to find someone who can cheat itself and prove that it's not a monster...at least not because it wants to be, but it has a job to do like anyone else, and sometimes there are people that have to do the dirty work, that have to take on a role that they know might make them hated beyond all reason.

Bruce should know that all too well, maybe that's why death clings to him like an insecure child seeking affirmation from an adult or loved one? Maybe it just sees him as a friend of sorts; it's confidant, someone who knows the ins and outs of how death operates and isn't scared by it or shies away from it, it knows he has come to terms with it and understands it...or has tried to.

That is one thing Bruce despises about himself; how he lies and tells himself that he's not afraid when deep down he's that eight-year-old boy in a bloody alleyway, the red clinging to his legs and hands like a second skin, the rain mixing with his tears as he sits alone and confused; his mind trying to process what just happened as his eyes frantically flutter between his mom and dad's now cold bodies.

So, yes, Bruce is well acquainted with death and disease, from too young an age one might add. He has seen sickness take ahold of his father's patients when younger and as stated before: he witnessed his parents death, and he has witnessed his own son Jason die alone and most likely scared. Bruce has seen death stretch out it's hand like an uncontrollable and incurable disease, hoping to claim another victim or reaching out as a cry for help...that he does not know, all he knows is that he is tired of death following him around like his own shadow, he is tired of it claiming the lives of everyone he loves without fail.

There have been moments where Bruce begged loudly for death to come for him instead, and it seems like whenever he has, it didn't work or moved on to someone else he knows as if it doesn't want to let him go, as if it's saying: "not you...not yet", trying it's hardest to keep the one person who is painfully familiar with it and who it recognizes just as much in return, though death may not quite realize just how much suffering it is putting it's "friend" through.

You see.

Bruce, just like death, has familiarized himself with the grandeur of delusion and the temporary peace or comfort it can bring. Thinking that if you can lie to yourself enough that everything and everyone is just fine, that you are fine and that you aren't slowly being driven insane by the back and forth death, as if you aren't slowly being eaten away by grief and sorrow...as if the people that you love and care for will continue to live another day because you think so, you've convinced yourself well enough because there was no other choice, it was either being delusional or you let the crushing weight of every death you've ever witnessed process in your mind and rip you apart like a dog with it's favorite chew toy.

Bruce had gotten so good at lying to himself that he believed one specific person would never die, at least not before he passed before that person: Alfred.

The tricky thing about grief and delusion is that they go hand in hand very well, sometimes peoples cause of grief is their delusions and for others their delusions are a cause of grief; two things Bruce has come to know very well.

Another thing is that they both can cause you to lie to yourself, sometimes very well, and when you have a grown man with repressed trauma, well, that is a dangerous cocktail for one to drink. Bruce deep down is that child in that alleyway...he never quite truly moved on from Thomas and Martha Wayne's deaths, that frightened little boy is still in him looking for someone to cling to, someone to lean on as a parental and mature adult figure...and who better than Alfred? The man has always been a shining star in Bruce's darkened world, something and someone to look forward to in his lowest moments, the man has always been so patient and put together whenever Bruce was at his worst that the boy was convinced Alfred had powers.

Ever since he could walk, Alfred was the person Bruce would follow to the earth and back again, and when the man stepped up after his parents died, that broken part of him clung to what was familiar and what he knew was something solid to lean on when the ground beneath him became sinking sand.

Because of that, Bruce never once thought of Alfred succumbing to any sort of disease, let alone death. He and death seemed to have a silent agreement on the other man: not Alfred, never Alfred...but it seems that it was only one of death's many tricks for Bruce. To make himself and his inner child hopeful that, if nothing else, at least he will always have Alfred by his side with his sharp mind and quick wit, always there to nag Bruce about his bad ways of living his life. He never thought the other would be one to fall to such sneaky tricks because, if nothing else, Alfred never has succumbed to such diseases of the mind or heart before.

But...

Bruce didn't realize how wrong he was until it was too late. Unaware that sometimes grief and heartbreak can sometimes take years to show in someone's heart or mind, clueless to the ways it festers like an unattended cut, causing worse of an injury than what you initially started out with. He didn't know that just like an unattended cut, that feelings can act just the same, building up overtime until it claims someone's life or leaves them with scars.

Or maybe he's just playing ignorant?

Bruce knows deep down that such things are true, but he is so used to lying to himself and pushing aside the truth of his feelings that sometimes he forgets to apply it to other people. He is sick and tired of dealing with death, especially when it comes to his family and friends, that he finds it easier to sacrifice his own life and well-being so that death never happens again in his family, not anymore.

But, death is one of the many things Bruce knows he doesn't have control over, especially not when he can't see it forming or coming. Not when it disguises itself so well that by the time you notice death take hold of someone, it's too late to do anything. Bruce thought that death and him had an understanding when it came to Alfred...but now he is left wondering if death found his situation hilarious or if it was left grieving just as he was.

And it all started slow and unassuming, like a thief in the night.

XXX

It was a surprisingly beautiful day in Gotham, the sun out to give a comforting amount of warmth while a cool breeze blows throughout the Wayne estate, the birds chirping happily in the trees as the bat-family sits outside to have a picnic together, Bruce smiling softly at all his family gathered together while soaking up the noise.

It's nice to be able to relax with his children and see them be young and free, even if it's just for a moment in time. Bruce appreciates his family for coming over as it's the anniversary of his parents death today...an occasion the man would usually choose to grieve alone with, the weather too bright and pleasant on such a sad morning, but Bruce finds himself not minding it today because it brought him his children. "Damian, how many times have I told you not to throw the water balloons below the belt?"

Bruce raises his brow at his youngest child over his shades while sipping at his lemonade, holding back his amused smirk at the boy turning to frown at him.

"I don't know? Probably one hundred and one times since we've come out to play. But I do not see the issue with it, father, in this war, anything is possible." Damian smirks at his dad in a way that has Bruce slightly concerned for his other children, but the moment is ruined by the boy sputtering as a balloon pop's against his head. "What miserable lowlife dared to hit me-" Damian shouts as he's pelted three times in the back with water balloons-"Cut it out you cretin! I swear on my grandfather's name that when I find who did that-" Bruce does his best to hold back his laughter when Tim and Steph interrupt the boy with more balloons to his face.

Conversation long forgotten at this point, Bruce just relaxes into his chair with a genuine smile as he watches Damian chase after the two teens, his heart growing warm when the boy chooses to tug Jason onto his team with the claim that despite the others mental and emotional setbacks, he proves to be well trained and physically capable.

Surprisingly, the older boy only pinches at Damian's face in retaliation before picking the boy up and running after their newfound "enemies" with the other on his shoulder. Bruce feels that fondness in his heart mix with the cold and familiar touch of grief and sadness at imagining his parents being here to witness this, from imagining if this would be the kinds of things he did with his own parents on sunny days. Bruce loosens his tense body and slowly allows himself to feel some of that pain, he must be having a rare good day, because any other time of day he would choose to focus on one or the other, but never both.

At the thought of his parents though, Bruce turns his head to look around for Alfred and frowns when he sees that the man hasn't come back outside yet, is the other just busy with housework or is he grieving too?

Bruce paused at the thought and looks back and forth between his laughing family and the sliding back door thoughtfully, he doesn't want to intrude on Alfred if the man is grieving in his own way, he actually isn't sure if he's ever seen the man cry properly at Thomas and Martha dying...but then again, he also isn't sure the nature of their relationship with each other and if they were even close. It does bother Bruce a bit to think that maybe Alfred and his parents weren't friends and that maybe they just stayed professional with each other, just because the man was willing to befriend the Wayne's child, it doesn't exactly mean he was willing to be friends with his employers.

Bruce makes his decision and stands up from his seat, shouting to his kids about how he'll be right back and chuckling as he's completely ignored by all of them.

Bruce slides open the door and inhales deeply at the scent coming from the kitchen, his feet automatically taking him to the source of the smell, a small smile tugging at his lips when he sees his dad in a Robin themed apron: "Alfred! Why are you still baking in here? You said that you'd be joining us outside soon and this doesn't look like soon."

Alfred raises his brow at the mock scolding tone Bruce is taking with him, "Don't you dare try that with me, sir. I am providing everyone with dessert for later, sustenance if you may, at least I am not hunched over this counter and forgetting to feed myself." Bruce responds with a small gasp at the slightly judgmental look he receives from the other man, taking a seat at the counter and stealing a taste of the cream cheese frosting Alfred is whipping up, giving an innocent grin when the other attempts hitting his hand for it. "And no one would believe me if I told them that you act like a child."

Alfred softens when looking back up at Bruce and seeing the man looking comfortable and happy, considering the day it is, he expected the man to be worse for wear like any other time, but this version of his son is always welcomed and if he willfully ignores the man sneaking in another scoop of cream...well, that's only his and Bruce's business.

"Not believe you, Alfred? I think your talking poppycock now. Whoever wouldn't believe you is mad I say."

Bruce watches Alfred move around the kitchen in search of something, his smile widening at the not so subtle twitch of Alfred's lips from his words, though the Wayne heir grows confused when his longtime friend stops in the middle of the floor confused. "Alfred? Is everything okay?" Bruce watches closely as the man turns to give him a reassuring smirk, the older man lifting a hand to tap at his head. "Oh, you know how it is with age, my dear boy. My old noggin' doesn't work quite like it used to, seems I am forgetful today." Alfred's obviously playful comment causes a pang of fear to shoot through Bruce's heart, the simple mention of anything being wrong with his dad on a day where he's remembering his late parents isn't helping to quell his sudden worry.

"Don't say that! You are fine, Alfred. You are fine."

Alfred looks at Bruce confused for just a moment before his shoulders slump at realizing the issue, his gunmetal blue eyes carefully observing the worry in those icy eyes and the young man's suddenly tense posture.

Alfred sighs softly and reaches forward to grab Bruce's hand in his own, "I apologize for my comment. I didn't mean to come off as insensitive or intentionally trying to worry you Bruce...I promise I am fine. Just a bit...foggy today upstairs is all-" his thumb comfortingly strokes across Bruce's hand, an action that is so familiar to the younger that it automatically causes him to relax-"I suppose that you aren't the only one who struggles on this day." Bruce pauses for a moment in thought before he takes the time to look at Alfred properly and feels a pang of sadness hit him at the grief in the man's eyes...it's something he almost never sees from the man, at least not this openly.

Bruce sucks in a sharp breath of air at truly being able to see just how tired and grief stricken the older man looks, his other hand lifting to rest on top of Alfred's, his thumb mimicking the comforting gesture for the other just as the man did for him. "I'm sorry, Alfie...I wondered about if you missed them as I do, but I never wanted to ask because I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." Alfred blinks away the mist from his eyes and releases a deep breath he didn't even know he was holding, clearing his throat before speaking. "You being concerned for my well being could never bother me, sir. Now, what do you say you help me in the kitchen for today and we finish making this Bavarian Torte together?"

Bruce's eyes widen and water slightly at the name of the dessert, "You mean...the chocolate one? That was one of mom's favorite desserts."

Alfred smiles bittersweetly at the old memories of the Wayne matriarch sneaking into the kitchen to steal the whipped icing and extra slices of cake without any remorse, remembering how she would sometimes use underhanded tricks such as sending a toddling, pudgy faced Bruce in to ask for the cake, all while cackling behind the corner like a maniac-because much like herself-it was impossible to deny the young boy anything.

"Exactly the chocolate one. I thought it might be nice to eat something familiar to remember them by...I know how much you miss them and if I'm overstepping a bound-" Alfred grunts as he's crushed into a tight hug, his arms reaching out to squeeze Bruce back as the man whispers in his ear.

"It's perfect Alfred, thank you. I'd love to help."

XXX

Bruce thought the moment of forgetfulness was unusual for Alfred, but even the best of the best have their off days once in awhile. Though he wishes he would have payed attention to the amount of grief on the butler's face when he confessed Thomas and Martha's deaths hit him hard as well, maybe if he did things wouldn't have spiraled as quickly as they did? I mean, that's if it was caused partly by untreated grief and sorrow.

Bruce wishes he would have held onto that concern long afterwards, but he trusted that child in himself telling him that Alfred is alright, telling him to trust the unwavering and impenetrable force that is Alfred Pennyworth.

That desperation to not want to even think or ponder on the thought that something could truly be wrong with Alfred seemed to overshadow the moments where something was off. It especially didn't help that each question and concerned remark was met by a steadfast reassurance that everything was fine and that Alfred was as right as rain, and maybe Bruce was being immature for so quickly being placated by the firm words and grounding tone? But Bruce was always prone to listening to Alfred when he got in such a mood, his usual iron-willed stubbornness would seem to fade into nothing whenever the man would stand tall and chase away his worries, just like when he was but a frightened child desperate for comfort yet too scared to reach out and claim such a thing for himself. Alfred remaining patient and calm despite Bruce's weariness and temperament.

Sometimes...sometimes Bruce thinks he was being selfish when it came to Alfred, he wonders about what kind of child he is to ignore his own concerns and the warning signs death gave to him in favor of being comforted by words he wanted to hear. Words of assurance and a promise that everything was fine, even when it always wasn't.

Bruce hates when his family tells him that there was nothing much he could have done, that things happened so quickly for even a doctor like Leslie to be able to aid Alfred. Bruce finds it easier to blame things on himself, he finds it easier to chalk things up to being his fault like most peoples deaths are.

Ultimately though, Bruce never thought that disease of someone's mind could spread so quickly under his and the family's noses.

XXX

Alfred is trying to cook breakfast for his family but he can't figure out where he placed the tongs, he can't grab the bacon from the pan if he doesn't have the proper utensils to do so. The older man sighs in frustration and rubs at his temples, he doesn't know why, but he has been misplacing things lately or becoming forgetful and it irks him to no end...he knows that his health is fine, but he would rather not be subject to bouts of forgetfulness at what feels like the most random of times.

While Alfred is searching through the same drawers he looked through fifty times already, one of his grandchildren sneak up behind him and startle him by asking what's wrong.

Alfred jumps and quickly turns around, a displeased frown gracing his face when Tim just giggles happily at getting a rare one up on the usually aware butler. "One of these days you children are going to give this old man a heart attack. But if you must know what's wrong, I seemed to have lost the tongs, and I would hate to let you all's bacon burn because I can't find them." Tim perks up at hearing his breakfast could be ruined and nods his head, gently moving Alfred to the side so he can take a look himself. "You sure Jason hasn't started taking our stuff again? I know he's been coming to the Manor a lot more...but he sometimes slips utensils out to use in his own apartment."

Alfred crosses his arms with a thoughtful hum, "I hope not. He knows good and well that he can ask Bruce for help and he'll buy the boy almost anything."

A drowsy voice comes from the kitchen entrance, "Where would the fun be if I asked? I hafta fulfill that little street rat in me somehow." Tim rolls his eyes at Jason's groggy response, the boy standing up straight and frowning at how the tongs have seemingly disappeared out of nowhere. "Yeah...well, did the street rat in you steal the tongs? Alfred needs them or else the bacon will burn...and we don't want the bacon to burn."

Jason smacks his lips and shrugs his shoulders, "Nope! I don't know where they are or where they ran off to, maybe our home is turning into the castle from Beauty and The Beast? Next the grandfather clock will start talking and Alfred's feather duster will have a French accent. Just use a fork for now, maybe the tongs will turn up soon." Tim shuts the drawer he was looking through and opens the one with their table utensils and pulls out a fork for Alfred to use, his gaze suspicious as he looks Jason's way. "Mhm...by 'turn up soon' do you mean you have to go get them from your apartment and rush them back here so you won't get in trouble?"

Before Jason can respond, Damian walks in with the tongs in his small hands, unconsciously clicking them together as he enters the kitchen.

"I found these in father's bathroom today. Why were they in there in the first place?" Damian continues to click the two claws together as he looks around at everyone for an answer.

Alfred feels confusion at what Damian said...he knows the boy would have no reason to lie, but there would also be no reason for him to place the tongs in Bruce's room. It must have been Bruce's dog, Ace, that did it, that must be it. Despite the dog being well trained, it still acts like a dog and that means chewing at stuff from time to time or even running off with household stuff.

"Maybe it was Ace yesterday? I saw him in the kitchen with me before heading upstairs to bed, and I do believe I stopped by Bruce's bathroom to clean it up one more time and Ace followed me then as well." Alfred extends his hand to retrieve the tongs and nods at Damian in thanks, smiling when the boy calls Ace to him and fake scolds the dog for taking his utensils. The dog just tilts it's head in confusion, it did no such thing last night, it witnessed Alfred carrying the tongs with him and leaving them in it's master's bathroom after leaving...but it knows that the humans won't understand it, so it takes the scolding bravely and gently nudges it's nose into Damian's neck.

Jason is now sitting at the countertop, his cheek resting against his hand as he yawns. "Why were you in dad's bathroom? I'm pretty sure you have your own."

Damian giggles at the cold dog nose tickling his neck before he realizes he's being addressed and clears his throat. "Why not be in father's bathroom? It is the largest one and the best one after all, and as the one true Wayne heir, I deserve the best." Jason rolls his eyes and watches as Damian climbs into the seat next to him, a humored look in his eyes when realizing that if his baby brother didn't have fancy hop-y ninja skills, he would be struggling into the tall chair because of his height.

"Okay shortcake, sure. You positive you didn't use B's bathroom because you were already in his room? I don't know...maybe because you slept in his bed last night like the child you are."

Jason was only joking, but the pink coloring Damian's face causes the older to snort in amusement at how easy it is to tease the other. Though Jason is now having to defend himself from Damian's fists trying to strike him in his side, "Don't be mad at me because I unknowingly guessed correctly. I'm definitely not judging you for sleeping in his bed, he has a really nice bed, and I'm pretty sure if I still had the time to...I would have slept in Bruce's bed as much as I could before dying."

Damian pauses his attempted murder and frowns up at the older boy, pulling away his fist in favor of crossing his arms and leaning on the counter. "That's...tragic. Does father know of this predicament of yours? You sound as though you think about it a lot and I'm sure father has as well."

"I know of his predicament now and I am never bothered if any of my children want to climb into my bed." Bruce walks into the kitchen with bed head, somehow making it look like a fashion statement rather than a hot mess, carefully ruffling Jason's head as he passes by him and hiding his pleased smile at being able to embarrass his second eldest with his hand. "Now that we've come to a conclusion on Jason's dilemma. I see we are having bacon and eggs for breakfast. Will mine have cheese like usual, Alfred?"

The older man sets the last of the bacon on the tray, his eyebrows furrowing at how forgetful he is being lately, he didn't even prepare the ingredients for the eggs.

"Could someone pull out the eggs, cheese and vegetables for me? I'm afraid I was so focused on finding the tongs that I neglected to pull out the eggs and other ingredients. Will anyone be having an omelette?" Richard appears out of what seems like nowhere, excitedly shouting about how he'll get the items and help Alfred beat the eggs, the kind offer immediately being met with complaints from the rest of his siblings. "That's no fair! Pretty sure you got to help Alfred yesterday with breakfast too. I'm gonna crack the eggs and mix them!" Tim loudly exclaims while standing up and reaching for the fridge handle, Richard's hand bumping into his as they start a mini shoving match with each other.

Alfred sighs at the morning already starting off so loudly, "If it is of concern to anyone...I also need a mixing bowl. It seems I've forgotten where I placed them last."

Bruce watches on amused as his second eldest and baby son hop out of their seats and rush to search for the mixing bowls, laughter escaping him when Jason asks Damian why he's trying to search the cabinets when he's so tiny. Bruce looks to Alfred and laughs harder seeing the man's facial expression, leaning forward to speak to the older so that he's heard over the chaos. "Now you've caused more of a ruckus then before. It was a good try though."

Alfred raises a brow, "Nice try?"

"Yes. Acting like you didn't know where the bowls are in the hopes that it would distract Tim instead, but now you have another argument on your hands." Bruce leans into his palm with a smirk, his confusion growing as Alfred smirks a bit awkwardly, as though he was being serious about not knowing where the bowls are but is attempting at acting like he knows what's going on. "Of course, sir. This old man has his own tactics to deploy...though I suppose I should rethink my plans, they seem to not work with the children."

Bruce blinks away the confusion in his eyes, he feels like he should ask Alfred what's wrong, his mind going back to his parents anniversary night and how forgetful the other seemed then too...but he had said that everything was fine with him. Maybe it's just him overthinking things again? Bruce has plenty of those moments where his mind has gotten him in trouble with family and friends alike because his paranoia got in the way of his trust. So, if Alfred claims he is fine...then he is, who would know his health better than the man himself? Definitely not Bruce, he doesn't think he would exactly count as the healthiest role model or example on health, not really.

Plus, Alfred is probably just trying to trick Bruce with the confusion too. His butler is a surprisingly good actor, sometimes even better than Bruce himself, so it's probably just all an act.

Bruce snaps out of his thoughts when he sees Damian clinging onto a large metal bowl that Jason is holding onto, the younger dangling in the air as his brother attempts to shake him off of the bowl. "Move it, pipsqueak! I grabbed this bowl first and you know it! Your fancy ninja skills don't beat height, I grabbed this before you jumped up and attacked me for it." Damian glares at Jason and tilts his head back so that he's looking at his dad, "Father! Tell Todd to release the bowl into my hands! I had it first and he won't let it go!"

Bruce opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by Richard making a distressed sound, he turns his head quickly in worry as to what could be the issue only to see his eldest only lost a round of rock, paper, scissors to Tim.

"No! Best two out of three?"

Tim clutches onto the cheese and vegetables while narrowing his eyes at Richard, "You mean best two out of ten? We've played nine times already and you've lost most of them." Richard eyes the ingredients dubiously, slowly inching towards the smaller boy with his arms out, as though he's trying to disarm a startled puppy rather than his littlest brother. "Look, you cheated me, m'kay? I think Cass has been teaching you her tricks...she is unnaturally good at rock, paper, scissors."

Tim rolls his eyes and keeps his hold tight on the stuff in his arms, "It's not Cass' fault you make bets with her and end up losing your money. Why would you even make bets with the one person trained since birth to read body language? You're just an idiot."

Richard gasps at the words and playfully lunges for the fridge, loudly exclaiming to Tim that if he's getting the cheese and vegetables then he'll retrieve the egg carton.

Bruce's cheeks hurt from smiling so much, his humored gaze turning to glance at Alfred to see how he's dealing with the banter and turning to something concerned at seeing how lost the man looks while standing there, but he doesn't have time to think about it as Damian screeches for him again.

"Father! Tell Todd to release the bowl from his evil clutches! I demand it!"

"Is it so hard for you to not speak in ancient? Why don't you speak like a normal kid-ow! The Hell!? Dad, get Damian off of me, he's starting to bite again! Don't make me punt you into the wall, gremlin!" Bruce sucks in a deep breath and rubs his temples, it started off amusing, but now it's quickly becoming a headache with all this shouting.

However, he has to be a dad, and because of this responsibility and honor (a tiring honor) he stands up to soothe his childrens tempers with the promise of Alfred's bacon, his concern for his own dad temporarily forgotten.

XXX

Bruce should have known that it's the little foxes that spoil the vine, but he was either too busy dealing with other people's issues or too busy being in denial that he didn't want to notice the signs of something being wrong. Anytime he did ask, it was always met with similar answers and responses, even on days where Alfred seemed to get visibly upset with him about the constant questioning, he would ignore that little voice telling him that Alfred's anger seemed wrong in favor of moving on and returning to "normal".

One of the most worrying moments for Bruce was when other people started to notice it too, especially Clark and Diana, it was a long couple months stuck in space working on a peace treaty between two different planets...Bruce hadn't even wanted to leave at the time, his concern for Alfred's growing confusion and seemingly depleting mental state was enough reason for him to not want to go.

But, with Superman and Wonder Woman tag teaming him and nudging him along with the prospect of the two planets possible war effecting earth, that was more reason to leave his dad behind in order to make sure his loved ones won't be hurt. Not before asking Damian to keep an eye on Alfred until he returns.

Bruce never expected to be gone for five months...of course he was glad that the peace treaty was successful, but he never wanted to be gone for so long from his family, especially when all his worries came crashing down on him the moment the League headed back to the Watchtower. His thoughts immediately rushing to how Alfred and the kids are, if his dad has gotten any worse or if the memory issues truly were just a cause of overwhelming grief from past memories undealt with properly.

He remembers Clark and Diana mentioning how hungry they were when they finally landed, but both were too tired (both more mentally and emotionally than physically) to even make something themselves. Of course with that response-and the two flashing puppy eyes his way-Bruce acquiesced with a sigh and invited them to his home, too exhausted himself to properly roll his eyes when the two managed wide smiles, as if they haven't been alone with him for a year.

XXX

Bruce blinks away the dizziness from the Zeta-Tube light, he should have taken the time to prepare himself for the sudden feeling of vamping one place to another, especially with the slight fuzzy feeling in your brain that the Zeta Tube gives Leaguers...at least humans like Bruce anyway.

A feeling of peace and contentment runs throughout the vigilante at finally being home, that queazy feeling of homesick he's been secretly dealing with for a year now finally dispersing at the squeak of the bats above his head and the soft whirring of his machines. Bruce's eyes unconsciously keep drifting to the entrance of the cave as he changes out of his suit, becoming curious as to why Alfred hasn't come down to the Cave yet. Usually when Bruce doesn't notify anyone that he's back from a mission, Alfred is always the first person waiting for him or the first to know he's back anyway, always ready with a change of clothes and quickly analyzing him for any injuries or hint that something is wrong.

Bruce realizes that Alfred won't be coming down on his own, so he quickly changes out of his Batsuit and heads upstairs to grab some clothes for Diana and Clark, turning to raise a curious brow at them when they attempt to follow him like two stray dogs.

"And what do you two think you are doing?"

Bruce is thinking of every training technique on self-control that he can to stop himself from laughing at the kicked puppy look Kal gives him and the deer in headlights look Diana wears. The Kryptonian has his foot frozen midair on the first step, "But...I thought you invited us over for a late dinner? Don't tell me you were joking about that? I was looking forward to that sandwich." Diana elbows Clark in the side for his comment, her sapphire blue eyes narrowing disapprovingly on how the man is more worried about food.

"I think what he means to say is that we thought the invitation was a serious one. And that we hope we didn't cross some sort of boundary? Especially when remembering you haven't seen your family in months...you must desire to see them right away, and we hope our presence isn't intruding upon that desire." Bruce has to look away at the overly sincere way the Amazonian is looking at him, and from the slow realization of Diana's words sinking into Clark's brain and causing him to (somehow) look more pitiful than before. "Gosh, B! Di is right, I'm sorry. I didn't even think about that...I was selfish to spend more time with you and eat a good sandwich."

Bruce's shoulders shake lightly as he finally breaks, he slowly turns to face his friends with a rare genuine smile on his face, the two freezing in place from the-no doubt exhausted-but genuinely happy laughter their friend is making.

"You two...it isn't about misunderstood jokes or interrupting my family time. I meant it when I asked you both to join me for dinner, I was just leaving to go get you both some clothes...you should know Alfred's rule about the suits in the home by heart now. That's all." Bruce rubs at his cheeks after speaking, it always hurts when he smiles too much, he doesn't know how since his children make him smile all the time, so he should be used to it by now. Luckily though, the answer seems to have satisfied both Diana and Clark's curiosity and worry, the two nodding their heads and preparing to say something but are quickly interrupted by the Grandfather Clock sliding open to reveal a sleepy looking Damian and Tim standing at the entrance.

"Father, you're finally back..." The younger boy rubs at his eyes and blinks rapidly, stifling a yawn as he speaks.

Tim seems to take Damian's cue as he yawns instead, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he does so, his posture looking exhausted beyond all belief but relieved at seeing Bruce again. "Hey, dad. Hi auntie Di and uncle C, we were hoping it was you this time, B. We brought you some extra clothes as the cave alerted us there was three people." Bruce smiles at Tim fondly as the boy walks down the steps, the amusement growing in him once again when Damian huffs, pouts and rolls his eyes at whatever it was the his older brother said.

"I for one am beyond grateful that it's father this time around. If Todd brought his ragtag band of paupers over one more time to purposely grate on my nerves, I was actually going to murder one of them." Damian remains stubborn on his statement despite the look his dad turns to give him for saying he would murder people, "What? And don't get me started on Grayson, father! He was inviting people over for sleepovers every single night! Why does one man need so many feminine counterparts to hang around? They all-" Tim interrupts with a teasing look on his face and in his eyes

"They all pampered him and babied him despite his threats to cut them down to size. Don't act like you didn't enjoy the skin care treatments, it's nothing you wouldn't do with dad-" the teen leans over to whisper purposefully loud to Bruce-"which is exactly why he allowed it to happen despite the constant protests. He was reminded of you whenever they treated his skin."

Bruce somehow manages to smiles even wider yet softer at the statement, his exhausted eyes shining with an overwhelming amount of emotions at realizing how much he's missed this; how much he's missed his family. The man quickly walks the rest of the way up the steps to pick up his baby son, cutting off the threats he knew Damian was going to shout at Tim, "Well...I am here now. There will be no more missing me as I can do our skin care together again, sadly not tonight, I'm too... exhausted. I have to make us sandwiches and get to bed before Alfred notices I'm still up and scolds me."

Bruce looks away from Damian too soon, hiking the boy up on his hip and securing his hold on him so the boy's chin is resting on his shoulder, not noticing the way his youngest son's face twists into something odd at the mention of Alfred.

Diana and Clark quickly finish changing and look at each other confused for the odd look Damian gave, as well as Tim's reaction to it, the older boy narrowing his eyes suddenly at the other in warning...as if he's telling the younger to control himself and not say whatever he's thinking, at least not tonight.

Curiouser and curiouser is when Tim notices the older heroes staring and quickly switches to a small, tired smile, the movement so precise and quick that both Diana and Clark thought they imagined it. However, the disgruntled look Damian gives Tim is enough to reassure the two that what they saw was real, the heroes following closely behind Bruce as they head to the kitchen and wonder silently what could be up with Alfred.

------

Bruce lazily chews on his sandwich, his eyes feeling heavy as he eats, the side to side motion of chewing oddly helping him to relax more on the stool, his chest pressing into Damian's back more as his body continues to slump down. At this rate, he'll fall to sleep at the kitchen counter with his child trapped on his lap rather than in his bed, so, with a quick clear of his throat, Bruce's slightly scratchy voice starts up a conversation. "How has everyone been doing while I was away? How has Alfred been? I bet he's been relieved not having to watch over me for these past few months, huh?"

He tried to go for something silly, cause that's a thing he's been attempting to pick up lately, and not his usual dry humor either. But with the micro expression Damian just made and the very miniscule tension in Tim's shoulders at his comment, he either wasn't very funny or something is going on with Alfred, or someone else in the family.

Bruce definitely would believe that he just isn't that funny, but these expressions and tensing isn't the normal 'dad you're embarrassing' type of looks or body language, it's the 'uh oh! Dad just mentioned something that we didn't want to speak about ever or right now.' And while Bruce may be exhausted from the month long trip in space, dealing with interplanetary peace making and/or keeping, on top of handling a rowdy group (the younger ones) of Justice Leaguers along with the severe jet lag one gets after traveling in space, he is still a dad and father first and foremost on top of being Batman.

Bruce hates how his first instinct is to panic and immediately turn to Diana and Clark to somehow blame or fuss at them for insisting he should go. But, he knows he shouldn't cause unnecessary fights and arguments, plus, he doesn't know exactly what happened or if anything happened at all...so there is absolutely no need to panic...right?

The longer Bruce sits in silence to think of a response, the more he starts to panic at the thought that maybe after being away for so long his family is feeling awkward around him, and that thought makes him feel way more paranoid and obsessive so he tries to think of something more reasonable. What is more reasonable you ask? Immediately imaging one of his kids dying while he's away-and nope! Absolutely not that thought- "Can you or I just say something about it already? You're causing father to spiral." Bruce blinks away the concern in his eyes to look questioningly at Damian for his stern tone, Diana and Clark also pause their eating to look between the two boys.

"Tim...I think that whatever is going on that you need to share it. Clark and I both saw the look you gave Damian when he made that face."

Tim sighs tiredly and rests his head in his hands when Bruce immediately asks him about, "what look", he takes a moment to compose himself before speaking. "You're right, aunty Di. I just-it's just...Alfred has been acting...off I guess one could say?" The teen looks down in guilt when seeing his dad's worried look, "You see...this is exactly why I thought we should wait to tell him this in the morning. You're getting stressed when you already look exhausted enough as is."

Bruce shakes his head, ignoring the heavy weight of exhaustion pressing on his eyelids in favor of addressing what Tim said.

"What do you mean by off, Tim? Has he gotten worse when I was away?"

Tim looks up quickly at what Bruce just said, confusion shining in his eyes as he tilted his head, "Worse? What does that mean?" Damian stops his chewing on one of Bruce's (stolen) chips, looking up to his father, expressing his puzzlement in his big green eyes alone. "Timothy is right, father...what do you mean by worse? Did something happen to Pennyworth before you left?"

Clark and Diana silently worry when they see Bruce look guilty for a second before controlling his expression, they know that whatever is going on must be serious enough as it's causing him this much distress, but they are hoping that their friend won't choose to shut down and keep things to himself as he tends to do when extremely worried. "Bruce, if there was something that happened to Alfred a couple months ago before you left, why didn't you tell everyone? Is...is that why you were so insistent on staying here instead of leaving Earth?" Clark looks worried as he asks, he feels guilty at the thought of forcing his friend away from his father figure when the man may have needed him most.

Bruce sighs, the remainder of his sandwich and chips long forgotten, the worry and uncertainty replacing the feeling of hunger in his stomach. "Nothing happened-" he pauses at the looks he receives from everyone at the table, huffing in irritation at their doubt-"I promise that nothing happened. At least not that I've seen...I don't even think there's anything truly wrong, Alfred said he's fine, just been a little forgetful and such lately...but he expects to get better, he does." Bruce does his best not to outwardly shrink into himself at the desperation in his tone, as if he's trying to convince himself that everything is okay and is going to be okay because Alfred said so.

Damian frowns worriedly, making eye contact with Tim and having a silent conversation, nodding slightly before hugging and kissing Bruce goodnight before sliding out of his lap. Tim hops down from his own stool and smiles reassuringly at Bruce, deciding that him and Damian can badger their dad in the morning about it; for now though, they'll leave it to Diana and Clark. "G'night, dad. Make sure to get some rest soon or else Alfred will be mad at you, night uncle Clark and aunty Di." Bruce watches his children leave, a frown tugging on his lips and the worry building at the thought of him having made his kids mad. His arms automatically come up so he can cross them, internally telling himself that it isn't a gesture of self-comfort, but that he just feels like crossing them-which apparently that's not what it looks like-as his two friends look at him in concern. "Bruce, what-"

"I...made them mad?"

Diana softens at the anxious note in Bruce's voice and shakes her head, "No. They weren't mad, that isn't why they left. And even if it was...why sound so confused about it?"

Bruce automatically digs his nails into his arms to calm himself before remembering to let up, he feels irritated when realizing Clark must have heard it as the man's eyes drift look at his hands. "Because I never know when I make someone mad, I never know what I do wrong. I think-I think Alfred's issue is my fault." The abruptness in which Bruce switched to blaming himself cause the two superheroes to freeze in place, their tired minds trying to process what it is that their friend just said before it sinks in and Clark jumps in to quickly reassure the other man.

"How can anything going on now be your fault, B? I thought you said nothing even happened?"

A frustrated grunt escapes Bruce's lips, "I said that it's nothing that I have been able to see. But I'm pretty sure whatever is happening with him is my fault! Alfred is...I don't know? He's becoming more-"

"Master Bruce, when did you return home? The systems didn't alert me that you arrived, nor did any of the children. I have been wondering where you've been and no one ever had an answer." Alfred stands at the kitchen entrance with his arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed in disapproval, something fond warming Bruce's insides at hearing something familiar come out of the butler's mouth, though he doubts no one never told the older man of his whereabouts. Which, that thought causes Bruce to grow worried again.

"Tim and Damian just came down, Al. They told me at some point that you were upstairs resting so we thought not to bother you."

Bruce tries to keep his careful check over of Alfred subtle as he carefully eyes the man and his face, noting that nothing looks too out of place physically wise, which is good! The healthy appearance kind of eases the prickly tingle of anxiety in Bruce's gut.

Alfred doesn't pay attention to or notice his son's analyzing as he doesn't scold Bruce for his fretting and instead softens his stance and eyes the unfinished food on Bruce's plate. "Too tired to finish your food? Understandable. You look absolutely atrocious, sir, if I may say so? I have never seen such circles under your eyes before in my life! Was tonight that bad?" Bruce rolls his eyes at Alfred's comment, curiosity taking over his thoughts as he wonders exactly what Alfred means by, "tonight." He desires to ask the man what that means to him...but he is afraid that maybe he won't get the answer he's looking for, luckily enough, Diana must see he wants to ask the other that, so she takes over. Her tone friendly and warm.

"Good morning, Alfred. It's always lovely to see you. What do you mean by tonight?"

Alfred nods politely at Diana but freezes for a moment, he isn't blind, he can see the way Bruce slumps ever so slightly in his seat when the woman asks her question. Now he feels unsure about what tonight means as well, so, he tries to play it off by asking a question of his own.

"You know, tonight. What do you think tonight means?"

Diana manages to keep her smile on her face, the response is unusual for the Brit as he is always so straightforward in his responses, but she can work with this. "I think tonight means the mission we went on to space, we made a peace treaty between two different planets. Of course, you knew that though, Alfred." The three heroes wait in anticipation for the man's comment, but are baffled when Alfred looks momentarily surprised before fixing his face to look as if he recalls something, though Bruce finds himself bothered at the curtness of the man's response, "Yes. The space mission, of course."

What did Bruce do? Did Alfred not want him to actually go on the mission? Bruce knows that the older man can often be straightforward and to the point...but he never sounds so abrupt and-and upset, this is for sure Alfred's angry tone, Bruce should know, the man has had to take it to him many times.

Diana looks apologetic when Bruce looks at her, he softens as he knows the woman didn't do it on purpose, she was just doing what Bruce wanted and took the consequences of that came with asking Alfred the question. "Alfred, is everything okay? You never let me know that you didn't want me to leave on the mission, you never really ask me to stay because you know the importance of the work I do." Alfred remains silent, though Bruce grows more perplexed at the exasperated expression Alfred has on his face. Luckily enough, Diana and Clark sense the older man's growing frustration and-like the angels they are-leave their friend alone to talk to his dad alone, the Kryptonian and Amazonian reassuring Alfred they remember where the spare rooms are when he moves to guide them.

As soon as the two heroes leave and Alfred is left alone with Bruce, the older man takes the chance to state exactly what it is that's bothering him.

"How am I to let you know that I would or would not want you to depart if you never told me in the first place, sir? I have been asking the boys where you've been for days now and I could never find you, but it turns out you went off world without even a word to me." Alfred turns to glare at Bruce in a disappointed way, but instead finds his irritation at the fact his son never told him he was leaving, turning into irritation at the perturbed look on the other's face. "What exactly is that look for? Surely you aren't trying to feel guilty now when it's already happened? I have told you about-"

"It's been more than a few days, Alfie. I have been off world for a whole year. I told you that I'd be leaving and even tried to stay behind, but you, Clark and Diana insisted that I go along to help. As soon as you found out I was trying to stay in Gotham, you insisted the change of scenery might do wonders for me, even if it's from another planet..." Bruce trails off and searches Alfred's face for any sign that he may remember even an inkling of the conversation they had, his heart sinks a bit more when the man looks disbelieving. "Don't you remember? You stated that me visiting another planet wouldn't be any different than living in Gotham since everyone here might as well be considered their own special alien race."

The silence is awkward for both Bruce and Alfred, with the former wanting to ask so many questions about his dad and what's been going on with him lately but stopping himself as Alfred looks like he'll fall over if he has to try remembering anything, and the latter feeling embarrassed at not remembering any of this.

Alfred stands up straight and quickly takes Bruce's plate to the sink to distract himself from his own internal worry and confusion, "Of course. I just thought that I'd have a bit of a laugh teasing you when you came back, you should join your friends upstairs, Bruce, you need your rest." Bruce's brows furrow at the obvious dismissal, maybe not necessarily in the butler's tone, but his body language shows that he is done with the conversation and that it's just a joke as he said it was. But Bruce knows it's more than that...it has to be, why would Alfred suddenly forget these things now? He wishes that he could blame it on the other just being tired, but that doesn't seem like it at all.

"Alfred...it's okay if you don't remember, I just-"

Alfred huffs and scrubs at the dishes harder, "All is well, Bruce-" his tone is cold and clipped when speaking-"I am telling you to go to bed now, you need the rest after the long day you've had. I am fine, thank you."

Bruce stares at Alfred's back for a bit too long but decides an argument with the other isn't the best option right now, he just silently slides out his seat with a whispered, "goodnight," and heads up the stairs. Bruce feels stupid for feeling like a scolded toddler, but while he has definitely been on the receiving end of Alfred's short tone, never has the man used it for a topic that wasn't that serious when you think about it hard enough, and what exactly does the other man mean when saying a long day? Does he mean literally just the day Bruce had traveling back to earth or is Alfred already forgetting that the other mentioned it's been exactly three hundred sixty five days since seeing each other?

Bruce enters his room with a sigh at seeing his two friends sitting on his bed, he doesn't enjoy the concern on their faces either.

"What's wrong with Alfred?"

Clark quietly hisses Diana's name at the blunt question, the woman frowning at the look her Kryptonian friend is giving her. "What? What is the issue with asking what we all are thinking?" Clark sighs and drags his hand down his face, "Nothing inherently. But, you could try showing a little more...tact when such issues arise. You know we appreciate your honesty, but season your words with a little grace, please."

Diana exhales loudly but nods in agreement, "I understand. I'm sorry, Bruce...I know the question must be inappropriate considering the situation at hand."

Bruce leans back against the door, fully shutting it with a quiet 'click' sound as he looks up towards the ceiling in thought. "No, Diana is right to ask that question. I was going to say to you both before Alfred interrupted that he's been more forgetful as of late, I was afraid to leave him because I wanted to personally keep an eye on him and see if things were getting worse or if they'd return back to normal. Now I'm wondering if me leaving off world only made the issue worse?"

Clark shakes his head, "I don't think that's how this works, B. If this is something that's been happening before today or even a few months back when you told Alfred...then I am pretty sure he would have reached this point either way, with or without your being here. Since we are on the topic of Alfred being...different than usual, anyone notice how he had absolutely no idea what tonight meant?" Diana crosses her arms with a nod, "Yes. I was just thinking about that...he deflected by asking me a question and then answered based off of what I said, I've never seen him do that before in all the years I've interacted with that man."

At Bruce's prolonged silence, Clark and Diana turn to look at him, the two glancing at each other sympathetically towards their friend and his obvious distress. Diana sighs softly and gently calls the younger man's name, "Bruce, what are you planning on doing? Your sons noticed that something was amiss, we noticed it, and obviously you do too...the look in your eyes and the way you speak about Alfred is proof enough that you feel something's up."

Bruce squeezes his eyes shut tight at Diana's words, "He says that he's fine."

"But do you believe that?" Diana questions honestly, but not without gentleness, "Despite your stubborn nature and what feels like a know-it-all attitude at times. That's something I appreciate about you is your judgment and ability to sense when something is wrong...usually you are so quick to admit to us how right you are, yet now you avoid what it seems you already know, why? My friend, I think whatever you are telling yourself to do; do it. I know not only would it help you be at ease, but it could help Alfred as well." Bruce slumps against the door more in defeat and exhaustion, he feels like someone is playing a cruel joke on him, it feels like someone is twisting a knife deep into his heart with all the worry weighing on it.

But Diana is right, especially when it comes to matters of the heart and the truth within, so despite wanting to fight the two on it, all he can do is look at them tiredly and nod.

XXX

Bruce remembers how weighed down his body felt, not just by the exhaustion from the off world mission, but from the stress that decided to overwhelm him as soon as he returned back on earth. He remembers telling his family the next morning what had been going on, he hated to see the concern on each of his childrens faces and the uncertainty in their tones as they bombarded him with questions, but he knows that despite any personal feelings on the matter...his being honest was appreciated by the family.

And it all started with a phone call.

XXX

Richard loves being called by his family, even if two and a half out of one billion of them act like they don't like calling him, why do Jason and Damian have to be so tsundere about it? He loves receiving calls from Alfred to let him know that there's a warm plate saved for him, and he especially loves when Bruce calls him; even more so, Richard treasures the moments where his dad just calls to simply hear his voice and check on his well-being. Though Richard also adores when he catches Bruce trying to call him when busy and he's not, picking up the phone with a wide smirk at the awkward silence his dad stews in, trying to make excuses as to why he's calling (he's that half to the two others).

But, sometimes not every call that the eldest receives is always one that makes him happy, like now, Richard was just trying to enjoy a day out with some of his siblings when his phone rang. He picks it up quickly as it's Bruce and calls from him are either entertaining or something to be concerned about...sadly it's the latter today.

"I told you the kids would be just fine with me, B. We've only been out for..."

Stephanie responds from behind the curtain she's trying out clothes in, "Seven hours. We left early today to get some shopping done, remember?"

Richard's eyes widen and he looks at the phone's time curiously before laughing and gesturing to his siblings, "Wow! Yeah, uh...seven hours, we've only been gone that long. No wonder why you guys were hounding me for food-" the eldest goes silent at Bruce's immediate questioning interrogating on if he's fed his siblings yet, Stephanie must know what's happening as she pokes her head out from the curtain with an amused smirk-"Yeah...yeah, I've remembered to feed them actual food."

Jason pushes himself off the wall and towards Richard so he can speak into his phone, "No he didn't. The first place he dragged us to when entering the mall was some candy store, we all got something from there and ate that, then we all got distracted by other things so we never ate real food. M'pretty sure Tim has fainted from the lack of nourishment-ack!" The older teen grunts as his face is pushed away and smirks at his older brother trying to excuse himself, "Wha-no! Of course Tim didn't actually faint, dad. They are all being dramatic about it...though I confess that maybe I did kind of let food slip my mind-anyways! I want to hear what you called about! Do you need us to pick something up?"

Richard waits patiently as Bruce takes time to say whatever it is he wants to say, he's learned not to assume the worst is happening as sometimes the other man just calls because he loves him and other times it's that he doesn't know if it's okay to just say it, so patience is something that's much needed during this short time.

However, while waiting, he glances over at Tim and Damian who are trying on fancy glasses together, his smile growing fond when the younger allows Tim to pick him up so he can see his reflection in the display cases mirror. The frantic waving of someone's arms from the corner of his eye catch Richard's attention, so he looks towards Stephanie who immediately starts posing in her new outfit for him, his eyes taking in the Y2K look she's been going for recently and decides that the style fits her...though she's someone who is constantly changing her aesthetic, so he wonders how long this will last.

His attention hones back in on Bruce when the man softly clears his throat, "There has been something that has been on my mind lately and I have decided-through Diana and Clark's unwanted but...appreciated input-that I should share it with the family as well, ah...minus Alfred."

Richard stops smiling at hearing that and furrows his brows, "Uncle C and Aunty Di actually...they actually agreed that you should have this conversation with us instead of Alfred? What's going on?" At the curious looks and protests he receives from his younger siblings at wondering what's going on, Richard waves his hand at them to quiet the group down, listening as his dad sighs tiredly and responds in a tone that implies whatever the topic is about has been thought about without breaks. He wouldn't be surprised if Bruce lost sleep turning the thoughts over in his head, "They did...it's something that I have been noticing with Alfred for awhile now, so that's why he can't be here for the conversation. Tim and Damian know what the concerns are...we somewhat brought the issue up last night when I came home. I'm sure they'd be willing to fill you all in if you ask. I love you, Dicky Bird."

Richard didn't even realize how tense his body was until his shoulders dropped at the other saying he loves him, his smile turns more relaxed and he softly responds back. "I love you too, dad. We'll be there as quickly as possible...and I'll try not to break traffic rules along the way." As soon as he hangs up and pockets his phone, Richard is bombarded with questions from the family. The man looks between his siblings before settling on Damian and Tim, "Dad said that you two would know what the conversation would be about. Apparently last night you two mentioned an issue with Alfred? B apparently wants to talk to us about it today as it's been a concern he's had for a bit now."

Tim sighs in relief, he was worried something really horrible was happening with Bruce.

"Yeah, me and Damian noticed Alfred acting kind of weird while dad was away. I tried to mention it yesterday to him but he kind of freaked out about it, so I thought it'd be best to let him have a breather from our interrogation and let Aunty Di and Uncle Clark handle it...which they apparently did."

Richard's brows pinch together in worry for whatever could be wrong with Alfred, and with a small sigh, rounds his family up so they can leave for home.

------

Richard is just about trampled under his younger siblings feet with the way they all push at him and trip over one another trying to get inside, he tries calming them down and asking them to wait or try knocking on the door instead, but all he gets for his efforts is someone stepping very harshly on his foot...which he doesn't know if it that was done on accident or on purpose.

Luckily enough, Richard's slightly overdramatic pained cries are answered as the door is swung open to reveal an overly entertained Kate looking at all of them humorously, her brow raised in question. "Where's the fire? You all look like you're crushing poor little Dickie to death, you okay?" The redhead smiles at the chorus of apologies uttered to her instead of Richard, her smile growing at the eldest siblings offended scoff of protest, "You see the way I get treated by my dearly beloved siblings? At least you had the decency to ask of my well-being, and I'm surprisingly just fine after such an ordeal."

Kate chuckles and watches as the Wayne children form a line and calmly walk in the house instead, her eyes giving away the amusement she feels from Richard's words.

"Hm...maybe it's because you didn't feed them? You know how they get when they're hungry."

Richard shuts the door and pauses for a moment to process his cousin's words, giving her a playful glare at the reminder of his forgetfulness. "Yeah, yeah, not like themselves. Should've fed them a Snickers I guess?" Kate snorts at the comment and leads the kids to the family room, reassuring Jason that Bruce has food waiting for them when the teen gives a longing look to the kitchen, geeze...Bruce's kids really did get their theatrics from him.

At the site of beautifully prepared sandwiches on the coffee table, Jason and the rest of his siblings dash forward-and with Bruce's guidance-figure out which plate belongs to who. Kate shares an amused look with her younger cousin before clapping her hands together to get the rowdy groups attention, "Okay guys! Let's not forget why we are here in the first place. Bruce called us here for what sounds like a very important reason, and I'm curious as to what could be so serious that Alfred isn't allowed in on it." At the reminder of why they were called here, the children quickly turn their now apprehensive looks onto their dad, Jason speaking around a mouthful of food.

"Why...w're we c'lled? W's wr'ng?"

Bruce does his best not to squirm under the attention...he's had to act as if he's way braver than he feels before for goodness sakes! So what's the difference now?

"I am sure Tim and Damian shared what they have witnessed with Alfred along the way home-"

Stephanie interrupts, her response candid, "Actually, they were quite tight-lipped about the information. Anytime we'd asked we were met with silence or the same response being: 'we think it's dad's right to let you know himself, sorry.' They did at least tell us at the mall that Alfred was acting really weird...though that's nothing new as that's basically what you told us."

Bruce can't help the warmth in his heart at Damian and Tim's thoughtfulness, though the longer he thinks about it, he doesn't know whether to stay thankful of their choice or to feel slightly overwhelmed at having to explain everything himself to his family. One thing Bruce is consistently thankful for right now is his childrens-specifically Stephanie's-ability to break the tension by being straightforward and even sarcastic while sounding so conversational, though he can see her tone isn't appreciated by his youngest child, so before a fight can break out between Damian and Stephanie, Bruce clears his throat.

"Thank you for that bit of information, Steph, now I know exactly what I have to tell you all to fill you in on the problem." Cass tilts her head in question and Barbara says the unasked question out loud, "And what exactly is that?"

Bruce sighs tiredly and attempts his best comforting smile: "Everything."

------

"And now I'm even more-" Bruce waves his hand-"you know, at having everyone point it out. I knew I should have listened to myself before but I was so confident in Alfred that I believed everything he told me...or at least I wanted to, now it's my fault that this is getting worse. I should have just listened to myself in the first place and took him to see Leslie, but I hoped to respect his wish of not seeing a doctor and now he has to pay for my carelessness."

Everyone remains silent at the troublesome news, all trying to process the words in their own way and figure out what to say...if there's anything to say at all.

"You can't blame yourself, dad...we probably would have done a similar thing if it were us. I mean, it's Alfred, if he says he's fine then that's the way it usually goes...and I don't think anyone in this house would ever expect something like this from him, that's never really a thought that never occurs is how he could be sick-" the sound of leather squeaking causes Richard to pause with a frown on his face at the way Bruce's knuckles turn white from how hard he's gripping the arms of the chair he sits in, obviously his dad is still in denial about whatever is going on with Alfred. Maybe the actual issue comes from not being in denial about it and admitting to himself deep down what he knows to be true? Maybe if he lets his dad know he's not alone in feeling lost then things will be fine-"Dad...you aren't-"

Bruce cuts his eldest off and looks around at everyone's empty plates, "Does anyone need more food? Jason? I saw you looking around for more earlier."

Jason jumps slightly at his name being called suddenly, his frown deepening at Bruce's attempts at distracting himself while he shares a concerned look with Richard. "Dad, it's okay for now, just sit back. You already prepared a lot for us and I'm sure most of us are full now, so just relax-" Bruce's hands clench open and closed at the word relax, he's perfectly relaxed, okay? He doesn't look unrelaxed, in fact, he thinks he's being too overly relaxed at such a topic being discussed. I mean, who asks someone if they want more food if they aren't relaxed?

"Relaxed? I am relaxed and I'm fine. I just need--I want--someone needs food! Please, someone needs food."

Bruce hates the looks he receives from his children and cousin, why are they looking at him like that? He doesn't need sympathy right now, he's fine, he's perfectly fine. Why can't they see that?

Bruce almost leaves the room, half afraid he'll flip over the table and break the glass plates in his distress anger...yeah, anger, it's much easier to tell himself that it's all because of anger instead of the crushing anxiety eating away at his mind. Luckily, before he can get up and leave his problems behind, Damian stands up holding his plate, looking to his father with big green eyes. "I could always use another sandwich...please? Pennyworth has taught you well in the art of sandwich making, father, it tastes delicious."

Hearing that someone needs him-needs his help-is enough to snap Bruce back into reality and out of the cloud of despair that was quickly weighing on him.

With a nod, Bruce guides his youngest into the kitchen to prepare the boy as many sandwiches as he wishes, not paying attention to the looks Damian shares with the rest of the family before they are out of sight. Neither does he pay attention to his son as he hops up to sit on the counter and watch as his father meticulously prepares too many sandwiches for one person alone, the older doesn't see the concern clouding Damian's eyes as the once neat sandwich making becomes sloppier with the increasing shakiness of his dad's hands.

"This looks familiar."

Bruce curses softly as he messes up yet another sandwich and tosses the bread to the side, "What...what looks familiar?"

Damian kicks his legs idly and shrugs, "You and the constant hand movements. Did you know that Alfred does the same thing when he's worried? The whole time you were on that mission and he didn't know where you were, he did something with his hands, whether that was cleaning or folding clothes or trying to cook something." Bruce tenses at hearing Alfred's name and accidentally messes up another sandwich by crushing it in his hands, his heart racing at why his son is choosing to do this to him. "Damian." He says the name like a warning, something slightly desperate in his tone for the boy to just stay quiet as he fixes his food, but the other just hums and continues on.

"I suppose it makes sense. You were raised by Alfred after all...so I'm sure that you learned plenty of little habits like that from him over the years of him raising you up. He also tends to make much more than nece-" Damian doesn't even flinch when Bruce slams his messy hands on the counter just a touch too forcefully, neither does he back down when his father finally looks to him in anger, his tone shaky and voice tight as he speaks. "Stop! Just stop! What is the point of all this!?"

Damian finds the courage to speak after searching his father's eyes and seeing the uncertainty within the icy orbs, "Because you seem to be running away from the fact that the man who raised you is unwell! You seem to be hiding the fact that the man who became your dad is showing worrying signs in his health behind anger! You are uncertain of the outcome, father, and I'm trying to understand why you run from that fact? I...I was uncertain when I came here for the first time, at getting to be around and see the man who is my father, who I was told stories about from a young age. I hid it behind anger too and acted out because I was uncertain of the outcome...and you always, always proved my fears wrong. Now that I've gotten to know you, I would-I would be terrified to lose you."

Damian keeps his stance tall despite the tears gathering in his eyes and the sadness creeping into his heart at what his father must be going through.

Bruce tries so desperately to hold onto the anger he's easily crafted and cultivated over the years in response to situations where he's scared to show how he really feels, but he can feel the cracks in his mask growing bigger at Damian's words, he understands what the boy is saying to him...but does he want to admit it now? In an attempt to hold onto that anger, Bruce tries to say Damian's name angrily again, his voice sounding less harsh this time and more raw; vulnerable.

"Damian."

"Father."

Bruce's eyebrows pinch together at the confidence in the way his son says his name, "...Damian." He tries it again.

"Dad."

Bruce's breath hitches at the shakiness in Damian's tone the second time around, he is still trying to fight the overwhelming emotions, so he tries it one more time. "D-Damian."

This time there's a pause, Damian's voice matching the vulnerability in his father's tone as he says, "Daddy."

Bruce finally looks back up at Damian, not even realizing his head was hanging so low, and his heart finally cracks at seeing the same uncertainty he feels in his youngest child's eyes. He never took the time to think of what Damian could be going through...at what all his family could be going through, and it's with that realization that Bruce finally allows the dam to break and all his emotions come pouring out in one desperate cry.

"I'm sorry, Damian-baby, come here."

Bruce ignores the mess on his hands and pulls his son in close, holding his baby close to his heart as the child shakes from the force of his cries.

Bruce turns to look at the entrance of the kitchen when hearing his family shuffle in the doorway, standing still; unsure. Unsure as to if they are allowed to join in on the moment, and his answer to them is extending his right arm to them in invitation, the cries getting louder as all of them slam into him and release their worries in a mess of unintelligible babbling. He sucks in a deep breath to try and control himself for what he wants to say, "I-I know you all knew this already...but I'm...I'm scared. I'm absolutely t-terrified at the thought of Alfred-of my dad dying, of forgetting me and us-of everything! I'm scared of it all because he felt like my structure after everything collapsed from under me and around me, and I'm so sorry t-that I forgot how you all must feel. Please forgive me."

Bruce's kids just hug onto him tighter and simultaneously tell him that they love him, they tell him not to worry about it and that they understand. He feels overwhelmed at how...good and healthy his kids have turned out despite the mess that he is, his eyes water in a mix of the sadness and affection he feels towards his children, his icy blue's meeting Kate's as she fondly watches all of them from the entrance.

At the look Bruce gives her, Kate smiles as best she can, though she can tell how wobbly it is from the way her lips tremble. She waits patiently as her younger cousin's children get the comfort they need from him and each other, watches as Stephanie takes Damian from Bruce's arms and hugs tightly onto him instead, opening her arms up to the man when everyone moves away from him and finally sheds her tears at the way Bruce runs into her arms and wraps his own around her. All she can imagine in this moment is that eight-year-old desperately clinging onto her the moment she arrived back in Gotham for her aunt and uncle's funeral, her hand rising to cradle her cousin's head against her shoulder the way she did all those years ago when he sought her arms for comfort.

"I'm scared too, B. He helped me a lot when my parents died...and I can't imagine losing him either. But you, you were raised by him, and I know how scary this must be, you never quite liked the unknown."

Bruce squeezes Kate and cries into her neck instead, his hands gripping onto her shirt tightly. "He's my second dad...I don't want to lose him in any way. I-I know assuming he'll die isn't exactly r-right...but does such a quick change in health ever spell out good things?" Kate stays silent at the question, from personal experience, her side of the family has always had issues with health, especially at the later points in life...and nine times out of ten the word it spelled out was death, so she can't exactly say to Bruce that Alfred won't die. Granted that's just for her family history, they don't really know much about Alfred's family line, but that's just fine, she doesn't think that Bruce would accept any attempts to soothe him with carefully crafted words.

Instead, Kate just squeezes onto her cousin tighter and cradles his head against her neck, as if she can hide him from the reality of his fears for a moment in time.

XXX

Everything seemed to have shifted during that moment, both for the better and the worst, Bruce was thankful for that moment as it was a chance for him to remember that the situation was more than just him...it was about everyone that Alfred knows and loves. He remembers being thankful to his children for their understanding and consideration in a moment where he acted out of fear, anger and stress, he was appreciative of their maturity in a moment where he himself didn't feel mature.

Bruce felt like that moment helped him grow even closer to his children in a time of vulnerability, was thankful for the kids thoughtfulness to also openly show him how scared the news made them, but Bruce also dreaded the thought of dealing with Alfred afterwards. The older man has never liked going to a hospital, and to be honest, Bruce didn't even remember seeing the other needing to be taken in for any sort of sickness...not from any past memories anyway, Alfred was always just so...healthy, and not once did Bruce ever remember seeing him otherwise, so maybe that's another reason why this whole situation made him overwhelmed with anxiety? Bruce has never seen his dad in a state where he became the recipient of caretaking, it was always the opposite for Alfred.

Bruce recalls the way the rest of the days events went, the family continued on as normal when Alfred returned home from his impromptu shopping trip with Clark and Diana, he remembers the feeling of peace and warmth he felt that night in his bedroom with all his children surrounding him, but he also remembers the worry warring with the feeling of contentment in his mind.

But the one thing Bruce recollects to this day is the moment he got Alfred to agree to a visit to Leslie's office, it was a couple weeks after the other man kept getting everyone's names wrong all of a sudden, Bruce remembers practically begging his dad to get a check up and feeling relief sink into his bones when Alfred (begrudgingly) agreed to it.

XXX

"Things should be right quick, Al. Leslie just wanted to do a checkup, especially since the kids had theirs done lately, we thought you should get one too." The latter part is definitely a lie...but Bruce doesn't know what else to say to the man who can sniff out his lies a mile away, so maybe if he uses his grandkids as an excuse then Alfred won't prod as much?

Bruce checks his watch for what feels like the millionth time already-and surprisingly enough-Alfred picks up on the nervous gesture and looks at his son critically before sighing at whatever it is he sees on the younger one's face and gently covering the watch with his hand. "I assure you that whatever it is you're nervous about should absolutely be of no concern to you. I adore you, sir, but sometimes you do have the habit of over exaggerating things, just calm down and sit still with me."

It is my concern when you keep forgetting things you used to know goes unsaid, even though Bruce is thinking it and desperately wants to say that to Alfred, he knows the other will just keep denying that he's not forgetting things...though sometimes he sees-what feels like-a moment of clarity in the man's eyes whenever he musters up the courage to say something to Alfred, it's like the man would grow nervous himself and be in denial about it, not because he was confused, but because he knew exactly what was going on and didn't want to acknowledge it himself. And Bruce really wants to say something after Alfred's attempted reassurances, but the familiar feeling of the other's thumb brushing side to side on his hand causes his lips to clamp shut from the feeling of comfort that washes over him.

So, Bruce obediently sits still with Alfred while the other gently brushed his thumb across the other's hand.

The duo wait for only a few more seconds-but it feels like hours to Bruce-until Leslie calls Alfred's name. "Alfred Pennyworth, it's been awhile since I've seen you. You look good per usual."

Bruce tries not to roll his eyes when Alfred gives him a pointed look for the woman's comment, "Thank you. Not everyone here seems to share that opinion, but yours is much appreciated as it's the right one to have." Leslie gives a chuckle at the words and gives Bruce a once-over, noticing the stress in the man's stance alone, "Yes. But can you blame him? You've done so much for him, Alfred, one of those things being fretting over his lack of self-care and concern for himself, though I hear there is a role reversal here as he is now claiming you aren't being as concerned for your well-being."

Alfred hums and waves his hand, "He's imagining stuff cause he doesn't get enough sleep. I have told Bruce time and time again that one day it would have negative effects on him, and now it seems that hour has come as he claims I'm forgetting things I know for a fact I know. Maybe you should be checking his head instead?" Leslie chuckles yet again and gestures for Alfred to head into the examination room first. "Well, I will definitely be the one making sure that any claims being made are false or not. It would be foolish of me as a doctor to wave off the concerns of one of my best-worst patients, especially considering who he is."

Bruce opens his mouth to protest against the best-worst patient comment, but the door closes before he can complain to Leslie that any fight he's put up was for a good reason...even if he knows deep down that it actually wasn't.

Instead, Bruce sighs as the anxious thoughts come back at the silence surrounding him now, every good and negative scenario playing around in his head about what today's diagnosis could be...if there is anything at all, choosing to wrap his arms around himself in a hug and settle back into the chair as he focuses on those worrisome thoughts.

------

The crushing weight in Bruce's chest as well as the lightweight, almost dreamy, feeling the rest of his body is giving him is about to make him scream at the top of his lungs. He doesn't know how long it's been since he's anxiously patiently been waiting for Leslie and Alfred to return, he remembers seeing them awhile ago when the two left to run a few CT scans-which absolutely drove Bruce's distress up a few thousand notches-but Leslie just gave him a look that asked him if he trusted her...which obviously the answer was yes, so he bowed his head and settled back in his chair to wait until Leslie was done with whatever she wanted to do.

But who knows how long ago that was? Bruce stopped looking at his watch as he figured the amount of times he was looking at it was unhealthy, now he is left to his own biting thoughts and the feeling of being in a dream as every nightmarish scenario flashes through his mind.

He doesn't even know why he's overreacting...Leslie talked to him about running a couple scans on Alfred's brain to see if there were any changes to it, so it's not like the woman is surprising him with something unknown and unexpected, they talked extensively about the way things would go, will go, and even how it could possibly go. Bruce knows that the older woman mentioned every possible scenario-not only cause she's a great doctor-but for his sake...he knows how she knows his habits, down to his obsessive need to know every possible outcome if he can, and thankfully Leslie kindly fed him everything he wanted and more...so why?

Bruce hates feeling like a scared child who is waiting for someone-anyone-to comfort him, to give him what he needs because he doesn't feel like he can even process what that is-

"Thank you for your patience, Alfred. You are definitely much more patient than Bruce during checkups."

Bruce snaps out of his thoughts to give a playfully hurt look towards the woman, "I'm very hurt by that, doctor. The way you say that makes me think you have favorite patients around here...and I'm pretty sure that has to be against one of your many rules as a doctor." Leslie turns to Bruce with a smile on her lips from his comment, her own witty retort dying in her throat at seeing how pale the younger looks when she finally is able to eye him properly, with a soft sigh she gently utters, "Oh Bruce-" before giving the other a comforting look and handing Alfred over to an assistant of her's to be looked after so her and Bruce can speak about the older man's condition without any problems.

Bruce feels trepidation when Leslie carefully nods her head to the room where Alfred just got his checkup in, even though the other remains calm and relaxed, he still feels like whatever he'll hear will be something he doesn't like...something he's scared of.

"Leslie..."

The woman quickly looks up at Bruce from the sound of her name being whispered, her usually sharp gaze softens at the uncertainty written over the other's face, her hands automatically reaching out to grab Bruce's clammy hands in her warm one's so she can warm them up. "I haven't even said anything yet, Bruce. Just breathe with me."

This whole moment feels all too familiar for both Bruce and Leslie, the last time the doctor remembers holding the other in such a way was the night her best friend and his wife died...she remembers the pain of having to look over her own friend's body, as well as the overwhelming sadness she felt when Bruce dropped by with that still small hope that maybe she saved at least one of his parents. She remembers holding onto his hands in the exact same way because he was already starting to panic at the mere thought of what she could say, even if somewhere deep down he knew they were dead, it didn't mean that he wanted to hear it be confirmed, especially by someone who feels like his Aunt.

Leslie feels Bruce squeeze onto her hands tightly, her mind going back to hands that felt so much smaller and dirty with blood and grime from Crime Alley, her heart aching as she watches the much older Bruce go through the same process he did years ago of taking a deep calming breath in and out.

She hates being the one to give out bad news...especially to Bruce, but she knows that it's a part of her work.

When Bruce opens his eyes and stares at Leslie with a much more clear-eyed look, the woman gives a small smile to show how proud she is before shedding her role as concerned Aunt and putting back on her professional doctor one. "Bruce, I know we talked over the phone about all the possibilities of this visit, and even some things we could do to see what's going on with Alfred's brain-" the man nods and swallows nervously, his hands tightening their grip on the woman's own at the prickle of fear that touches his heart at the words-"You were all for doing anything we could to see what's going on, including the CT scans. And...there is nothing showing up on them."

Bruce slumps with relief and releases a loud breath he didn't even know he was holding, his gaze growing confused as to why Alfred is being so forgetful. "I don't get it...if nothing is showing up, why is Alfred having trouble remembering things he used to know and forgetting to do things he did before? I know...I know we talked about it possibly being Alzheimer's or Dementia, but it should show up, shouldn't it?" Leslie takes a deep breath to prepare herself for what she has to say, "That's not the way it works, Bruce. If it's in its early stages then it won't show up on the scans, though I do find it peculiar as it does sound as though Alfred's mind is forgetting things rapidly, but, we shouldn't immediately cross out Alzheimer's or Dementia just because of a couple failed scans."

Bruce doesn't know if he feels better or worse from the news...if anything, he kind of feels numb right now.

"I-...what do you think it sounds like?"

Leslie frowns at the question, shaking her head, maybe because she knows Bruce so well she's holding back...and maybe she's being a little selfish? But she's sick and tired of being the bearer of bad news, especially to a man like Bruce who seems to only know tragedy, however, at the desperate look in the man's eyes, she just sighs softly and concedes to the prodding look. "I think it sounds like dementia for right now, which is more like an umbrella term for more specific conditions that effect someone's memory or thinking skills. To be honest with you Bruce, it could end up being anything...especially since Alfred has served in the military, right? That much you do know about his past, he could have brain trauma that I don't know about."

Bruce pauses at the thought and carefully pulls away from Leslie's warm hands, stepping away when the woman reaches out for him as he does so, "What am I supposed to do then? I can't treat a problem that's not even showing up and I can't find a cure for something that doesn't have one."

Leslie pulls back her hands and holds them to her chest, gripping them tight so she doesn't attempt to reach out for Bruce again, she should handle this one step at a time...just like when he was eight. "Bruce, look at me-" she waits patiently for the man to look at her, her gaze unwavering and tone firm as she reassures the younger. "None of this is your fault, do you hear me? I know what you're thinking and I think you should stop thinking it right now. You don't have to do anything, because the harsh truth is: there isn't anything you can do for Alfred but be there for him. You can also leave it to me and my team to try and figure out the issue and if there is one, especially that can be seen-in fact, it doesn't even have to be me who helps Alfred...say the word and I'll get you the best Doctors I trust to try and work this thing out."

Bruce feels the tears gathering in his eyes, he hates being told there's nothing for him to do...he knows that, that's why it hurts so much. It seems that whenever he's told he can't do something for someone, it's because something bad has or will happen.

"I don't-Leslie I...I don't want to just sit there. You know what happened the last time I sat still? My parents died-" Leslie's eyes widen and she swoops in to quickly dry Bruce's teary eyes, her own hazel one's watering in sadness. "Which wasn't your fault, Bruce. It wasn't your fault then and whatever is going on with Alfred isn't your fault now. I promise you that it's not your fault, just-just be there for him like you're doing now...it is helping more than you could ever know, just like Alfred did for you when what happened to your parents happened."

Bruce hugs onto Leslie, sniffling into her coat and shaking his head as he whispers, "But it was-is my fault! You tell me to do nothing, but doing nothing is exactly what got them killed in the first place...maybe I'm not doing enough? Maybe I need to do more and Alfred will-" Leslie pulls away from the hug slightly to look at Bruce, "He'll what? What do you think will happen if you 'do more'? Will Alfred's problem suddenly go away? Will he miraculously be healed? Tell me, Bruce, where do you plan to start anyway? What exactly will you be doing for him?"

Bruce's hands fist at the lab coat in distress, his eyebrows pinching together as he desperately tries to think of an answer, his mouth opening and closing as though he's a fish out of water and his lower lip wobbling as it does when he's trying not to cry.

"I-..."

Leslie runs her hand across Bruce's head in comfort, her slightly stern gaze softening at realizing what he's trying to say. "It's okay, Bruce...I promise it'll be okay."

Bruce lets the tears fall as he confesses, "I don't know! I don't know what I'd do and I hate it. I just want to help, Leslie...I just want to help." Leslie hugs onto the younger and takes the full weight of her nephew against her, unbothered by his heavy weight nor his size, "You are helping him. I know you don't see it now, but you are, you are doing so much for him despite how much Alfred doesn't want it. We both know that whether his mind is fully intact or not, that he'd still be disgruntled about the whole thing, yes?"

At the slow nod against her neck, Leslie sighs softly, grateful that Bruce doesn't feel like arguing against her claims right now...she doesn't know if she could handle arguing right now anyway, because the thought of one of her closest friend's slowly losing himself; losing his memories, does worry her too. She's come to bond with Alfred over the years, and it all started with Bruce, how they both cared for him and were concerned with his health-both mental and physical-after witnessing his parents murder, it seemed after that, their friendship only continued to blossom as they realized they enjoyed similar stuff. Bonded over their shared love of Bruce Wayne.

The wetness on her collarbone brings Leslie back to attention, her heart aching for Bruce and how he must feel right now, because while the scans showed nothing...it doesn't mean that nothing is wrong with Alfred, and she knows that until there is an actual diagnosis she can give to him, Bruce will be imagining every worse case scenario until then.

"Be still with me, Bruce, just be still and quiet."

Bruce sighs into Leslie's shoulder, "I didn't even say anything-hey!" A flick to his head cuts him off, he tries to sound upset-tries mustering up some sort of indignation in his tone, but it comes out quiet like a whisper. "You aren't saying anything out loud, Bruce, but I can practically hear your head screaming at you. Don't-...it's great to have plans for the future, but remember to live in the present...no matter how much it may suck." Leslie slumps further in relief when Bruce squeezes her just a bit tighter, she never knows how saying things like that will go over with him, but the small, breathy chuckle breathed against her neck for her honesty makes her smile and squeeze onto the younger.

Despite her own worry's, Bruce's present laughter and comfort is all she needs to believe everything will work out just fine.

------

Alfred stands a bit taller when Leslie and Bruce exit the examination room, his forehead crinkling in worry at his son's red eyes and exhausted appearance overall, what could have possibly made him look that way? The older man feels somewhat soothed when Leslie's eyes meet his; strong and assured as the corners crinkle with her small smile, the doctor whispering to Bruce and Alfred how she'll be in touch before sending the two on their way.

Alfred follows Bruce out to their car, resting his hand gently on the crook of the other's arm when they are finally alone, "Master Bruce."

Nothing.

"Master Bruce?"

Alfred sighs softly when the other doesn't answer, his lips twitching into an amused smile when the younger comes to as soon as he tries grabbing the car keys.

"I told you I can drive, Alfred."

Bruce turns to glare at Alfred, his face immediately softening at the tenderness in the man's gaze. "Alfred? Are you-what's wrong?" The older man looks down at his outstretched hand reaching for the keys now clenched tightly in Bruce's own, his shoulders shaking lightly at the soft laugh that escapes his lips. "I just remembered how you were the exact same way when you were younger-" at Bruce's questioning look, Alfred smiles more and sighs-"Anytime you asked to do something for me, you would inevitably pause in doing it and become territorial over your task when I came to do it myself."

Bruce quickly glances down at his balled up fist when Alfred softly taps it, looking back up to see the other looking nostalgic.

"You would clench onto whatever it was I came to retrieve from you just like this, never letting go and demanding you could do it because you promised." Bruce tries to hold back his embarrassed blush when Alfred looks back up at him, knowing he must have failed as the gunmetal colored orbs glance from cheek-to-cheek fondly.

Instead, he clears his throat and nods his head softly. "Well...it's still true. I can do it and will do it because I said I could, and nothing could ever change that...and I mean nothing."

Alfred is taken aback by the sudden intensity in Bruce's tone, his head tilted the tiniest bit in curiosity, he isn't sure if this is Bruce's way of distracting him from the blush or something else entirely. He's guessing it must be whatever happened inside of the hospital, which is why he hums softly in question. "What exactly is nothing to you, Bruce? I am all for leaving myself in your care for the drive back home, but if you are going to be spacing out like you're an astronaut, then I must ask for the keys."

The weight that seems to be an ever present feeling in Bruce's chest feels lighter at Alfred's little joke, his nose scrunching up as he tries not smile.

"C'mon, Al. I'm trying to be serious right now...I'm not supposed to smile-what? What is it now?"

Alfred doesn't know if he's ever smiled this much, but he's glad that his attempts to get Bruce to smile worked, there's always been...something about the younger smiling that brings him a peace and joy that's unexplainable. "That sounds familiar, sir. I believe that's something you always said to me as well, always tried to copy my stern looks when you could-I daresay you were trying to be me."

Bruce relaxes into his seat while nodding his head in agreement, "I was trying to be you. You were my friend as well as my role model...I thought you were fascinating; like those stoic, tough guy characters I would see in my comics and cartoons. It was like a dream coming true for me when I was old enough to realize that you were here to stay as well as my Butler, you know? I remember bragging to other kids that they didn't have an Alfred in their lives."

Alfred raises a brow, "You bragged that they didn't have an Alfred? Not a Butler who just happens to be named Alfred?"

Bruce sits in thought for a moment, just now realizing how silly it is to brag to someone else-essentially-about someone's name and the person themselves, not their job or position they hold.

"Well...yes? Yeah, I did, okay? I don't regret it though, I made everyone jealous over that...I knew it wouldn't take long for them to realize how cool you were like I did." Bruce turns to stare at Alfred again, finding the man hasn't yet looked away, he really is trying hard not to laugh...but they've kind of gotten off topic and Bruce really can't handle the happiness on Alfred's face, nor can he ignore any longer the laughter bubbling up in his chest. Of course, he cracks first with a light chuckle, just now realizing-by the look on Alfred's face-that he was planning to make him laugh from the beginning.

Alfred smiles proudly and glances down at the hand holding onto the keys, noticing that the appendage is no longer balled up, but loose and relaxed: mission accomplished then.

Even though Alfred didn't get an answer to his inner question as to why Bruce was so distressed, he thinks that this result is much better, and that whatever is going on, can wait to be addressed another day. For now, he just pats Bruce's hand comfortingly and buckle's himself in, "There's a good lad. Now that I can trust you to not cause an accident, you may begin driving us back home so I can prepare our lunch."

Bruce starts up the car after buckling himself in, his smile remaining as he responds in a way that's all too commonplace for him. "Yes, Alfred."

XXX

Everything since the hospital visit became a blur for Bruce, he tried to take Leslie's reassurance and instructions to heart-and sometimes, sometimes he felt as though it was easier to handle some days. Feeling as though the overwhelming feeling of dread was nothing but a mere whisper in the back of his mind on the good days...but the bad days, the bad days just only seemed to dig deep into Bruce's mind that there's nothing he can do for Alfred, that no matter how much the other forgets and even asks questions about what's going on, that there's nothing he can say that could truly soothe the others deteriorating mind.

And now...

Now Bruce has to stop being the Batman so often to take care of Alfred, which isn't necessarily an issue he supposes...Alfred did always want him to retire or take a break.

Bruce just never imagined the reason would be because his dad is unwell.

And-

...

....

He's afraid.

Afraid of being forgotten...I mean, isn't that a type of death in and of itself? Bruce's heart clenches in sadness whenever Alfred gets his name wrong or mixes his childrens names up, nothing about it is...normal, not in the regular ways someone could forget a name. Bruce can see by the look on Alfred's face that he sometimes genuinely doesn't recognize who it is he's talking to; Barbara could be Kate because they are both redheads, or Richard-Jason, all because they have black hair and blue eyes...nevermind the completely different voices and builds, something that Alfred no longer pays attention to.

Bruce just...he doesn't want to be forgotten; who does? Especially by someone you love and cherish with all your heart.

He just worries about what Alfred's future may look like-and if he's being completely honest with himself for one second; he wonders what his future would look like without Alfred, without his dad here to guide him and knock some sense into him.

Alfred's memory seems to be getting worse day by day, which Bruce didn't know could even be possible, but the man seems to be declining in health every few months. He remembers a hard conversation he had with Leslie over the phone one late night, the woman told him that Dementia and Alzheimer's can lead to death--something he knew that she knew he knew that, he used to visit sick patients with his father when younger after all, and some of those patients had such issues.

But, not once did Bruce ever think that anyone in his family would be one of those patients someday. He feels ill prepared for all this despite living with this harsh reality for about a couple years now, he feels as though he failed Alfred and his family in someway.

Isn't he supposed to be the man with a plan?

And now with Alfred's rapidly declining health, Bruce is just worried that it means his death is all that much closer. How long will his family have with Alfred? How long will he have with Alfred? Bruce sighs loudly and rubs his temples to relieve the pressure, he knows that thinking such things aren't doing any good for him...but someone has to think of the future, right? Someone has to be willing to admit the tough things happening?

Even at your family's expense? They are here for you, Bruce. They are here for Alfred, and yet you constantly bring up his death when it hasn't happened or isn't happening now.

Bruce huffs at his own thoughts...he knows how reasonable that thought is, but at the same time, he just wants to prepare his family for the inevitable...even if they have experience with deaths dealings. He just...doesn't know how or why they continue to live their lives as of nothing is going wrong, it's kind of--Bruce blinks his way out of his thoughts at his phone buzzing, the simmering frustration built inside of him flaring up at what the text says.

Jay-Bird: Clark and Diana are coming over. Is that okay?'

Why didn't they just call me instead?

Bruce narrows his eyes at the text bubbles going in and out. Is Jason trying to find an excuse for them? He doesn't need baby-sitters. He's doing just fine at home with Alfred on his own, he doesn't need people constantly being around him...watching him, giving him pitiful looks-he's fine.

Jay-Bird: They weren't sure if you were busy, didn't wanna bother you just in case. They stopped by to hang out with us before asking if it's fine to head to the Manor, is it okay?

Bruce grits his teeth together. He wants to say no, but at the same time...he...wants their companionship. It's just that he doesn't need them to pity him or feel they have to watch over him all the time...Bruce can't even recall just how many times the two have visited lately, they just always make time for him, maybe cause they feel they need to keep an eye on him?

Bruce isn't blind...he sees the way his friends look at him-sees the way his children stare at him too-not understanding their concern for him. He's fine.

Bruce shakes his head to clear his mind, he wonders what would happen if he says no. They would respect his wishes no doubt...unless they were absolutely convinced they needed to come by that is, but he knows his kids would ask him about it when they come home. So, the only option is to reassure Jason that he is alright by allowing them to come over, just to show the other that he's okay.

It's okay.

Bruce bites his lip while waiting for a response...what if Jason is asking questions about why he took so long? He doesn't want his kids to be burdened by him when there's nothing going on, he just took a little time to respond is all.

The ping of his phone makes Bruce jump in his seat, his eyes choosing to water at the simple texts left for him.

Jay-Bird: 'kay dad.

Jay-Bird: Love u

I love you too, Jason.

He has never replied so quickly before to something in his life, but despite his own inner turmoil, one thing he's sure about is how much he loves his kids.

Bruce puts his phone down and rubs at his face, he feels like he's experiencing emotional whiplash lately, one second he's angry at himself or something his family did and then the next second the anger is gone. At least he'll be calm enough to tolerate Diana and Clark's presence...he just hopes that seeing them won't rile up the irritation again.

Bruce tries not to sigh too loudly at hearing two pairs of feet shifting around outside of his office, he doesn't want the two to think he's bothered by anything, so he settles for rolling his eyes and quickly rising out of his seat and heading for his closed door, opening it and raising a brow at the two supers when whatever silent conversation they were having is abruptly cut off by his sudden appearance. The sigh he was trying not to release escaping him anyway at the guilty looks on his two friends faces, "What's with the looks? And why are you both standing outside my office like two guilty children?"

"Why do we have to be two guilty children?" Clark frowns down at Bruce, feeling relieved at seeing the scowl turning into something lighter; something amused.

"I heard you shuffling your feet out here...it's what my kids do when they are guilty of something. I've tried to correct little tells like that in them, but they do it more in this house than outside it...unless it's a really bad situation."

Diana smiles kindly, "That's good. It means they act that way cause this house is a home to them, they feel comfortable, though I'm sure you know that already." Her ocean blue eyes carefully take over Bruce's form, noticing how haggard the younger man looks...she could ask him about how he's doing right now and risk upsetting him? Or, she could ask him more about his kids and give him a chance to unwind a bit?

It's obvious which one is her choice.

"Surely all of your kids don't do the same exact things, right?"

Bruce is either too tired to notice Diana's thoughtful distraction or is choosing to ignore it, either way, he doesn't bother putting up much of a fight when the Amazonian links their arms together and leads them slowly to his bedroom and out on his balcony to relax.

"No, they don't always do the same things. They only shuffle their feet when I can't see them, they must think I can't hear them, but I can. Richard tend to play with the back of his hair, there's this one spot that's particularly wavy and textured and I guess the feeling of it soothes him? He's done that since he was a child." Bruce smiles at the memories of a nine-year-old Richard being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and immediately reaching up and back to fiddle with that once piece of hair. "And Jason, he tends to ball his fists up...I wouldn't doubt that it's because of anger sometimes, but I think his nails digging into his skin grounds him, even when he isn't upset. It's another thing I've tried to help him not do, he hurts himself that way, you know?"

Diana hums softly and nods, resting her chin on both her hands and looking at Bruce as if he's sharing the world's greatest secrets with her.

"Then Tim...he does a lot of stuff actually. But he tends to be a lip biter or tap his index finger against stuff when he's stressed out or lying to me, the only way to get him to stop gnawing at his lip sometimes is to gently grab his face in my hands and remind him to stop. I think he does that so his thoughts don't spill out of his mouth, but I hope he's able to stop thinking I or anyone else don't care to hear his thoughts."

Bruce pauses at the steaming cup of chamomile tea held out to him, his hope rising with the thought of it being Alfred who prepared the tea, but immediately taking notice how smooth the hands are and realizing it's just Clark.

"Thanks..."

The painful heat of the cup feels oddly nice against Bruce's hands, his instincts are telling him to pull his hands away from the painful warmth, but another part of him feels weirdly at peace from the pain. He doesn't wish to make his friends worry though...so he sets the cup down on the table to let it cool before he holds the cup or drinks from it. Clark settles down in the seat next to Bruce after handing Diana her own cup, "What about the rest of your kids? Barbara, Steph, Cass, Damian? What about your cousin? Does she do anything in particular too?"

Bruce nods, once again being distracted by the topic at hand.

"Steph tends to lick her lips a lot, she often uses the excuse that she has dry lips, but I can tell when it's not dry lips. Barbara tends to swallow excessively, something that couldn't be as noticeable to some people, but I'm half convinced she gets a spit overload when attempting to lie. You should have seen her when she was a teenager, it was almost hilarious how easy it was to see her lie, though she's definitely gotten better over the years...something I don't know whether to be proud about or bothered by." Bruce pauses to take a careful sip at his tea, humming at the immediate relieved sensation in his mouth and throat, he didn't realize how thirsty he was until now.

"Cass is an exceptional liar, so is Damian. For Cass though, sometimes I think the only reason I can tell she lies is because somewhere inside herself, she doesn't desire to lie to me, so she purposely gives me signs that she is in the hopes I'll realize and correct her for doing so. I think it was because of her upbringing, certain things she does-even the normal things-she sometimes feels the need to hide it or lie about it out of shame for desiring such things, but then she feels guilty about lying and gives me cues to let me know she's not being honest. She shifts her eyes a lot since speech can be hard for her, or she picks at her nails."

Clark hasn't taken a sip of his drink yet and neither has Diana, the two are too invested in Bruce's gentle voice talking about his children.

"Then Damian, he's such a good boy, he is actually one of the most honest surprisingly. Even when I first met him, if he wanted to take on a mission on his own; he'd tell me, sometimes he'd angrily let me know in advance that he'll try to sneak out, something that he knew I knew...and yet he usually managed to escape me anyway. Over the years though, he's learned to trust me, and just like Cass, he's a good person and doesn't desire to lie to me, especially since I'm his father. But, he also tends to not make eye contact, something that's developed from his time over here, and his lower lip tends to jut out into a pout...something I did when I was small too apparently, anyway, he'll probably grow out of it just as I did."

Clark and Diana quickly look at each other, which one of them is going to tell Bruce he still pouts despite being a grown man?

The two decide against it and allow Bruce to finish, "And my cousin Kate? To be honest, I give out advice when she needs it and that's about it. Maybe it's because she's older than me and also not one of my kids exactly-"

Diana tilts her head, "Exactly?"

Bruce nods, "Exactly. She acts like the kids sometimes...but at the end of the day she insists I don't hover around her or scold her as much as she's not my kid-"

Clark smirks and interrupts with a small snort, "Not exactly that is."

Bruce finds himself smiling at the comment and nodding again in agreement, "Not exactly. However, she's still family and we still look out for each other, if anything, sometimes I think she hovers around me just as much as the kids or Alfred do when she can...she says it's 'older cousin duties' or some crap like that. But, I'd say the tell I remember the most that she still does today is get a little too angry and defensive when you say she's lying, I keep trying to tell her she'd be a near perfect liar if she could get rid of that temper...or the red hair."

Diana chuckles and finally sips at her warm tea, "What does the red hair have to do with her temper?"

Bruce stares at the older woman as if she grew another arm, "Are you serious? We all know having red hair or being short is the cause of fiery tempers in people."

Diana, sweet, sweet, Diana still doesn't understand a lot of regular human jokes or comments and looks completely baffled at the information. The woman making Bruce curious as some sort of understanding shines in her eyes, "Oh! I see. Is that why you and Damian are so angry all the time? Well, maybe not all the time, but you both get easily angered."

Bruce narrows his eyes at Clark for his laughter, his lower lip unknowingly jutting out into the inherited pout.

"No! Damian is short, but I'm not. I'm tall."

"Says every short person." Clark continues sipping at his tea after whispering to Diana, quickly having to put the glass down after Bruce chucks a pillow at his face.

"You know what, Clark!?"

Said man just laughs louder and holds Bruce's gaze with his own amused one, "I do. And it's that you're short." Clark smirks victoriously when Bruce just huffs and settles back into is seat, his midnight blue eyes drift over to Diana to see her reaction, smiling more when the woman just shakes her head fondly, hiding her smile behind her cup at Bruce turning his glare onto her instead.

It grows silent between the three...but it's a nice kind of silence, even in spite of Bruce's grumbling. The man relishing in the comfort his friends presence bring him, closing his eyes as the wind gently blows and gently caresses his cheek, it's...nice, relaxing in a way Bruce feels he hasn't felt in awhile. He almost doesn't know if he should be thankful for this moment of reprieve or feel guilty, especially when Alfred is getting wor--

"Your kids seem to be doing well."

Bruce opens his eyes and keeps them trained on the foggy sky, humming in response to Diana's whispered admission: "I hope so. How were they tonight? How's everything going?"

"Don't start worrying now, Bruce. Things are well as I said, not just with your kids, but with Gotham...at least for tonight it is. They were all gathered near your favorite gargoyle tonight eating some snacks that you made for them apparently." Bruce's gaze drifts away from the night sky and back down to Diana, looking offended by the disbelief in the other's tone at the thought of him cooking anything. "I grew up with a man who handmade food and was always in the kitchen if he wasn't tidying up my house AND I trained with a group of monks for who knows how many years in the mountains? Of course I learned how to cook for myself."

Diana throws her hands up at Bruce's defensive tone.

"What's with the tone? All I said is that you made snacks for your kids. I didn't know you made snacks."

Bruce raises his brow, "You emphasized the 'you' when you said it. What, Diana? Do I not look like a man who can make snacks for his kids? Is that what you think, that I'd let my babies starve?"

Diana looks increasingly more amused the more the shorter speakers to her, "No. You wouldn't let anyone starve, not even your worst enemy. I just...didn't know you baked or cooked anything, you've never done it in front of me or Clark before, plus the fact you always have Alfred cook or prep meals...so isn't the logical conclusion that-"

"That I'd let my children starve?"

Diana lets out a giggle at Bruce's dramatics and covers her mouth with her hand to try and dampen her smile.

"No-" she laughs out the word-"I just...you don't look like you'd cook. There, I said it. Is that a crime to say?"

Bruce shakes his head, "Is it because I'm Batman?"

Diana throws her head back with a loud laugh at her friend's conclusion of the matter, her eyes sparkling with adoration for Bruce when she looks back at him. "Isn't everything because you're Batman? But, no. That isn't why. I just didn't think you'd cook because of how often you don't cook, especially when me or Clark are around, you usually take us out to restaurants. Isn't that right, Clark? I'm not alone in thinking he never cooks."

The man looks between Bruce and Diana, his apologetic gaze landing on Bruce.

"I didn't know you cooked either-" Clark chuckles at Bruce's eye roll-"To be fair...I don't think anyone you know inside or outside of the cowl thinks you cook. There are bets in the League and this topic is one of them, seems we owe some people some money, Di."

Diana nods her head in agreement and turns back to Bruce, feeling pleased at how much relaxed he looks now, the fake irritation on his face settling into something serene.

Bruce sighs softly and smirks the tiniest bit, "I understand why people wouldn't think I cook. But I do and I'm very good at it-" a pause-"Though what I don't understand is how we got off topic talking about my kids and there well-being. I don't know how I mange to hold a conversation with you two, feel like we change topic every two seconds." Bruce looks between Clark and Diana, "But, to answer: the type of snacks were cookies. I made three different kinds for them to eat: chocolate chip, peanut butter, and snickerdoodle."

Clark licks his lips and looks at Bruce hopefully.

"Is there any chance that we'll be able to taste your famous cookies?"

"How are my cookies 'famous' when you didn't even know I baked in the first place?" Bruce looks questioningly at Clark and shakes his head. "And sorry, but you won't be able to taste them tonight because my kids took them all. If I didn't pack everything away for them to take, they would have hounded me about it and bugged me until I caved and gave them all the cookies."

Bruce looks back up to the sky and softly hums.

"Topic change again...but I...appreciate you both for coming to check in on me, even when it grates on my nerves sometimes. And for not asking me how I was doing even though I knew how much you wanted to."

Diana and Clark look slightly guilty at having been found out, but they expect nothing less from the World's Greatest Detective.

"I'm not sure I would have answered anyway if one of you asked...I probably would have brought up...my kids...instead." Bruce trails off and looks to Diana in surprise at realizing why she brought up his children in the first place, the woman smiling tenderly at the man and simply nodding her head at him, knowing exactly what he's thinking.

Bruce finds himself relaxing more into his seat, ignoring the tears gathering in his eyes at the thoughtfulness of his friends and family, his mind automatically going back to Alfred and all the ways he's been there for Bruce in his time of need and desperation. He really wished that he could do more for Alfred, but he knows he can't, he knows that all he can do is reluctantly follow Leslie's advice and simply stay with his dad...no matter how much it sucks to watch the man forget.

Bruce looks down into the remaining tea in his cup, the painful heat from before now a cool sensation in his hands.

"I..."

Diana and Clark immediately look to Bruce at the slight tremble in his voice, both noticing the way his thumb caresses the glass nervously, taking in the way his eyebrows pinch together in thought of what he wants to say. Their friend has never been the best with words, at least when he thinks hard about it that is, but they know whatever Bruce desires to say must be something he's been thinking for a long time, he only ever gets this hesitant when he plans to be really vulnerable.

They know they could urge him on...but in this moment, it's best to let Bruce get himself together as best he can.

...

....

.....

......

After sitting in silence for a few minutes, Bruce clears his throat, letting Clark and Diana know he's ready now.

"I hate doing nothing. I've already had this conversation with Leslie before in passing-when we first visited the doctor to get Alfred checked out. And I...hate not being able to have a solution, cause to me, having a plan is a sign of structure, and if you don't have one then bad things usually happen-" a shrug-" at least in my life that's what it means. If I have....something-anything, to keep my mind focused on, then I won't be consumed with my thoughts o-or the worry." Bruce frowns and taps his finger on the teacup, "Though I think I fail at that. I end up burdening the people I don't want to burden in the first place, all because I'm sc-" at that, he cuts himself off, his throat tightening up as realization sets in.

Of course...

He's scared.

That's not anything that should be too surprising, especially as he confessed he was scared to Damian awhile ago.

But hearing those words almost slip out of his own mouth in a moment he's thinking relatively clearly, in a moment of peace and stillness with two people he trusts with his life, it hits different.

A gentle hand on his shoulder causes Bruce to look up into the eyes of Clark, the man's smile proud but wobbly as he squeezes his shoulder softly. "You're scared, Bruce. And I hope you know that it's okay to be...I can't imagine what you must be feeling right now, but I know it must be difficult." Bruce waits for the familiar feelings of bitterness and anger to rise up at Clark's gentle words, but it never comes, instead, he feels his eyes warm with the familiar presence of tears and allows them to fall. "I-It's nothing new. I told Damian how scared I was what feels like not too long ago, Clark, so I don't know why I'm-"

Clark waits patiently as Bruce searches for what to say, his heart warming at his best friend leaning his cheek against his hand, seeking out comfort.

"I don't know why it feels...so much in my chest right now."

Clark smiles bittersweetly, his large hand gently wiping Bruce's tears. "That's love, B. You love Alfred a great deal, maybe what's happening is just reminding you of how much you do, that's why it hurts." Something settles in Bruce's chest as Clark says that--acknowledgement perhaps--of his feelings and why he hurts as much as he does recently.

He doesn't bother responding verbally, he just nods and allows more tears to fall, accepting his best friends comfort as Diana closes in on his left side and wraps him in a warm hug.

XXX

It's a week after Bruce had that little heart-to-heart with Clark and Diana, he found himself trying to adjust to the reality of his feelings and why they are so strong, which is why he suggested having a picnic with his family. I mean, what better way to cope than surround yourself with people who love you?

Bruce, however, found himself taking a little detour to his parents graves, having to reassure his children a thousand times that he'll be just fine before slipping off to clear his mind before lunch. Now he's standing at his parents tombstones, staring at the stones as if they offended him-but they haven't-he just is in deep thought about what to say first. "Mom, dad...I...know that I haven't visited lately, but there's so much that's been happening these past few months and year, I sometimes feel as if I'm not even aware for most of it. It...feels as though I'm watching everything through a third person point of view, but I've been trying my hardest to come to terms with everything that's happened and is happening."

Bruce swallows around the lump in his throat, God, he's tired of crying.

A soft breeze blows, carrying the scent of roses from the garden nearby in the air, the wind gently caressing Bruce's face in the same way a mother strokes her child's face.

"You may be wondering what everything is-" a heavy sigh-"I don't think I fully know what everything is right now, but Alfred might be really sick...and I mean really sick, not the kind that one just bounces back from, but the kind where it has you get worse until the inevitable happens." Bruce kneels down between Martha and Thomas, his hands resting on the cold stone for comfort, "I think I've been thinking too much about Alfred-you know? And I know it's not healthy, but I'm tired mom, I'm weary dad. I wish-" Bruce's voice trembles-"I wish that you both were here to help me. You two seemed to always know what to do then, and I know you would know what to do now, cause I-I don't."

Bruce bends his head to rest on his mother's stone while his hand rests on Thomas's, his tears dripping down onto his mother's rock.

"I'm lost and confused, some days I think Alfred might be less confused than me. Which is saying a lot as he's the one suffering with memory loss, but I guess-I guess I'm still that frightened eight-year-old who doesn't know what to do next." Bruce sniffles, his hands trembling and shoulders shaking as he breaks down in front of his parents, "I-I don't w-want my family to die anymore. I don't think my heart c-could take anymore darkness, I just need...Alfred, I need Alfred to get by. I can't lose another dad, I just can't!"

The words are a plea as he says them. Bruce doesn't care if he looks desperate or childish kneeling at his parents grave, he isn't concerned about whether or not he sounds immature begging for his parents guidance-for their love.

He's very much the desperate child that he feels like.

Bruce only has one more parent left, and for Alfred to meet such a fate as the one he's getting fills the man with rage, sadness, despair and uneasiness in a way Bruce didn't even think was possible...not anymore than usual anyway.

The wind blows again, stronger this time, as though it's trying to dry his tears quicker. Bruce squints at the random ray of sunlight that pokes through Gotham's dreary sky and warms his face, he doesn't know whether to be angry or laugh at this cruel joke; when he said he couldn't take anymore darkness, he didn't mean literally. However, the wind carries a different scent this time; forget-me-nots, causing a memory Bruce thought he forgot to come back-

------

"Master Bruce, would you please slow down and be patient." Alfred sighs at the boy and his enthusiasm, though he finds himself humored at the fact the child is so much like his mother when it comes to hobbies she enjoys. "At least allow for me to put on your sunhat lest you go outside and burn." It's as though ice was poured down the four-year-old's back with the way he stiffens up, a worried frown gracing the young boy's face as he turns to look up at his friend.

"Burn? I don't wanna burn, Alfie! Why would the sun do that? We're friends."

Alfred smiles fondly down at his young master, unable to resist squishing the pudgy cheeks as finishes tying the hat strings underneath the child's chin.

"Oh? But you are friends, young sir. The sun doesn't wish to burn you, you know? But your skin doesn't react well to the sunrays for too long, which is why your friend wants you to take the measures to protect yourself from it." Bruce puffs his cheeks out further at Alfred's cheek squishing, his irritation replaced by worry at knowing the sun doesn't mean to hurt him but does. "Then why don't I not wear anything? Wouldn't Mr. Sun feel bad knowing that I'm 'specting to be hurt by him?"

Alfred grabs the gardening tools, freezing for just a moment at Bruce's logic before humming in thought.

"I understand where you are coming from, Master Bruce, but Mr. Sun doesn't feel bad. He knows and understands that everyone is different, which is why he's fine with you wearing your sun hat, he knows that your skin reacts to him differently than someone else who has darker skin. Now, while darker skinned people can still get sunburned, Mr. Sun understands that you're most likely to get burnt easiest because of your light complexion,." Alfred holds out his hand for Bruce to take as he leads the boy outside and to the flower garden, the child looking thoughtful as he processes Alfred's words.

"So...Mr. Sun really won't be mad at me then?"

Alfred smiles down at Bruce, giving him an enamored look, chuckling and shaking his head. "No, I can assure you that he won't be mad at you. In fact, you've made our friend in the sky very happy by putting on your hat-he says it's very lovely by the way."

Bruce smiles happily and shouts his gratitude to the sun for its compliment, letting go of Alfred's hand when they enter his mother's private garden, rushing over to the roses-as he usually does-to sniff at them. "You think we can pick mommy some roses, Alfie? She likes roses, and this one is very pretty like mama is." His chunky hand gently pats the flower he just sniffed, the butler eyeing the flower approvingly at how full the petals seem to be, his young ward seems to have a natural eye for the best flowers to pick. "I think that flower is absolutely perfect for your mother. Do you want to help me cut it off?"

Bruce nods his head enthusiastically, extending his hands out obediently when Alfred pulls out his gardening gloves, his little brows once again furrowing in worry. "And you're really sure Mrs. Rose doesn't mind us taking her away from her friends?"

Alfred kneels next to Bruce with an amused smile on his lips, it's always the same question from the young boy whenever they come out to pluck or prune the flowers. "I assure you that she doesn't mind. It's not like we take flowers everyday from this garden, and when we do take them away, we are using them for a reason. In fact, our darling friend here is okay with us using her as a gift or decoration." He smiles and holds the boy's small hands around the flower shear, waiting patiently for Bruce to continue this tradition by asking another question, humor bubbling up in his chest as the child does exactly as expected. "You said that about Mr. Sun too! How do you know all that?"

Alfred knocks his head against Bruce's gently, leaning closer into the boy as though he has a secret to share, even though he'll reply with the same response he tells the child every other time he asks this question.

"It's because I can speak to nature-" he finally allows his chuckle to escape at Bruce's shocked gasp, nodding his head to confirm what the young boy is thinking-"It's true, sir! I really can. That's how I know they don't mind us doing these things to them. Mrs. Rose here actually symbolizes passion and love, so to not use her as a sign or gift of the very thing she's made for is like a crime. We must honor her both in life and in death by showing love."

Bruce looks thoughtful before nodding his head, "And to honor her is by giving her to someone out of love."

Alfred nods, "Exactly that. So, I do hope you'll pluck her with me? She's been growing her beautiful petal dress out just for this moment, Bruce, she knew you'd want to gift her to your mother." With all concerns cleared from Bruce's mind, he has a new determination and finally allows Alfred to guide him to the stem of the flower to cut it, an excited shout escaping him when the flower is in his hands. "It's so pretty, Alfie. I think mommy will like it like I did-" Bruce smiles proudly up at Alfred, his gloved hand caressing the rose petals-"Her dress is fluffy too. Maybe you can make mama's favorite food and I can give Mrs. Rose to her?"

Alfred softens at the boy's innocent request, humming in response. "As you wish, Master Bruce. I would be delighted to cook Mrs. Wayne's favorite food."

Bruce shouts excitedly and gently places his friend into his little basket, whispering his thanks for her hard work growing while "tucking" the flower in. Alfred watches on adoringly before looking over the garden for what plants he needs to propagate before starting on his task, listening out for Bruce as the boy helps water the flowers while talking to them.

Bruce is whispering something to a flower when his attention is caught at seeing a small cluster of pretty blue-purple flowers, a curious sound rising up in his throat at the small things seemingly hiding in a slightly shaded little nook of the garden. Hopping over to the flowers and smiling down at them, he holds out his miniature watering can and tilts it down so the water can rain down on the hideaways. "Why are you hiding? Everyone needs a drink too, including you friends. May I know why you are all alone? You don't have other flower friends to keep you company?"

He crouches into a squat and leans towards the flowers, tongue poking out as he strains his hearing to hopefully hear the voices that Alfred seems to, a small frown appearing when he hears nothing.

"You don't have to be scared. I'm helping Alfie garden, I bet you guys love him, huh? He says that he can hear you speak to him...and I hope that one day I can too." Bruce pauses to listen to the voices and sighs when there's still nothing, he wants to feel frustrated...but he needs to be patient and gentle, they might be scared. "It's fine if you don't wanna speak to me. I hope you all enjoyed the water? If I didn't see you over here, you wouldn't have gotten any! And I don't wanna 'magine what would happen if you never got your sippy's. I'm Bruce Thomas Wayne, I wonder who you are? I've never seen you here before."

Looking closer at the flowers, Bruce feels a bit more relieved to see that they don't seem to grow alone, in fact, they are all pretty piled together in little clumps. So at least they aren't completely alone over here...though they have less friends than his mommy's rose bushes.

"Forget-me-nots, young sir."

Bruce jumps and turns to look at Alfred who is kneeling next to him, the man looking at the tiny plants with a smile.

"Forget-me-nots? I don't 'member planting these here with you or mommy, Alfie." Bruce tilts his head and looks back at the flowers quickly when realizing his phrasing could make them think they aren't welcomed, "Which is fine! There's always room in our garden for more flower friends! But it is more polite to let us know you'll be arriving so we can prepare in advance for your stay."

Alfred sits on the plush grass with a small grunt, leaning onto his hand as the boy reassures the flowers with a small smirk.

"Yes, forget-me-nots. They grow in many kinds of places, but they tend to thrive in moist soils really. Maybe this year's rain brought in a new flower friend? Your mother and I didn't grow these this year, though I think it adds a nice color amongst the red's and pinks your mother tends to gravitate towards, hm? All hidden away in this little nook, they are glad you found them, sir, they were getting thirsty." Alfred smiles wider at Bruce puffing his chest out in pride, giving the younger his undivided attention as soon as the boy turns towards him with a curious look on his face.

"What do these forget-me-nots mean, Alfie? You said that roses mean passion and love, and I 'member you telling me that mommy's Dahlias mean...per-se-ver-ance and stuff, but what do these mean?"

Alfred nods in praise for Bruce sounding the larger words out. "Good job, Master Bruce. And forget-me-nots are a symbol of a few different things as most flowers are: devotion, royalty, true love-but I love these two meanings; remembrance and eternal love. You see, young Master, these flowers are a symbol that you will never forget your loved ones and treasure each and every moment and memory you've spent or shared with them, even when they are gone." He watches as Bruce's eyes shine with wonder at the meaning, following the boy's movements as he gently touches the small flowers and smiles pleased. "Then these flowers must have appeared for me and you, Alfie. They want us to 'member each other forever and ever no matter what."

Alfred didn't mean to let the surprise show on his face as Bruce gently picks a small cluster of the forget-me-nots, turns towards him, and hands him the mini bouquet with a wide smile on his face.

"I'll 'member you and the flowers forever, Alfie. Will you do it too? We can't forget as long as they are here."

Alfred blinks rapidly as his surprised mind processes the young boy's words, gently grabbing the small flowers from the chubby hand while he nods gently. "Of course I will, young sir. I'll never forget you as long as these flowers exist, I promise." He places the small bouquet in his chest pocket, plucking his own bundle and handing it over to Bruce as an official binding of their promise to one another, the four-year-old quickly accepting the gift and cradling it to his chest while glancing back to Alfred with big, hope-filled eyes. "You really promise?"

With a nod and a soft chuckle, Alfred bumps his head gently against Bruce's for the second time that day, uncaring that their sun hats have been knocked backwards.

"You have my word, Bruce. You have my word."

------

Blinking his way out of the memory, Bruce sits in silence to think about everything. He doesn't know if he feels better exactly? But, there is something warm growing in his heart, maybe something more bittersweet?

With a tired sigh, Bruce slumps further against Martha Wayne's headstone. "Mom...dad...I think-I think I broke our promise-" He doesn't care of the sob that forces it's way out of his throat, he's tired and emotionally full yet drained at the same time, he just wants to cry-"I...I forgot about the forget-me-nots--I forgot about Alfred when I promised him I wouldn't. He's not even gone a-and I broke our promise by forgetting the memories."

Bruce closes his eyes as the wind blows, doing his best to listen to nature...who knows? Maybe this time it will answer him like he hoped as a child.

"Bruce? Is everything alright?"

Alfred's concerned voice startles Bruce, the younger turning quickly to face the older man with wide blue eyes, the concern in him growing at seeing how his dad is alone. "Am I--Alfred! What are you doing alone? Where are the kids?" At Alfred raising his hand, the younger freezes in place, sitting halfway up on his knees while holding onto his mom's stone for support. "I am not a child that has to be watched, thank you very much! And the kids are just fine, no need to get your knickers in a twist about it."

Alfred sighs at seeing the shameful look on his boy's face, walking forward until he's next to Bruce and lowering himself next to him with a loud groan, chuckling as his bones pop and creak.

"I'm not as young as I used to be, hm?" At his son's silence, Alfred frowns. He admits it...he's scared, he feels...different, and not in a good way. Everyday feels as if he's in a haze, as though he is just a wanderer with nowhere to go or no idea where they are at, but, he still has eyes and can see the childrens faces whenever he says something in particular; he can see Bruce's pain whenever the man is staring right at him. "It's okay, Bruce. You're okay."

Bruce's breath hitches at those words, his brows pinching together on distress of the statement.

"It's not okay..."

The response was so quiet that Alfred almost didn't hear it, but after processing what was just said causes the older man to frown. "And why are things not okay? As far as I'm concerned, you are still breathing and so are the kids, if that isn't okay-." Bruce shakes his head, "It's not okay! It's not! Life is stupid and unfair! You shouldn't be-..." Alfred raises his brow at the immediate tapering off, ignoring how his heart is racing as his child mentions this...thing that they both know and are aware of that's been happening with him lately. "I shouldn't be what? I...don't know what's happening, Bruce, and I don't know what to do."

Bruce gasps and finally makes eye contact with the older man at his hesitant confession, feeling guilt and shame at the uncertainty in those gunmetal blue eyes.

Of course Alfred has no idea what's going on...Bruce hasn't even told the other he might have dementia yet.

Bruce rests a hand on Alfred's aged one, waiting for the apology to come out of his mouth only to remain silent, the lump coming back full force in his throat when seeing the small clump of forget-me-nots carefully resting in the older man's front coat pocket. "A-Alfie." His voice trembles and shakes as he whispers the name, the tears flowing down his face like a river as he shivers with chills all of the sudden, when did things get so cold?

The warmth of Alfred's hand against his wet cheek is a welcomed comfort, the only sound around being that of Bruce's sobs echoing through the gravesite, not even the wind giving a gentle whisper.

Bruce doesn't know how long he sat crying, how long he spent gripping tightly onto Alfred's suit jacket in desperation. He doesn't know why he feels overwhelmed by a tiny blue-purple flower...maybe it's because Alfred didn't forget all these years when even he did? Maybe it's because despite all of Alfred's confusion, he still holds fond memories closely to his heart, while Bruce's first instinct is to forget the best and prepare for the worst.

After a few more loud sniffles and choked cries, Bruce quites down enough to listen closely to Alfred's heartbeat. When did he lean into the man's chest?

I guess it doesn't matter.

It feels nice to just simply be with the other, no anxious thoughts left in his exhausted brain, only the thought of how nice the other's heart sounds. It's a bit quick, yeah, but at least it's moving under there and strong; alive.

"What's going on, my boy?"

Alfred brushes his shaky fingers through the black hair, using his left hand to gently rub at Bruce's back and waiting patiently for the younger to collect himself.

"Your flower. It's a forget-me-not. Just reminded me of something I had forgotten a long time ago-" Bruce sits up to stare at the other, his grip still tight around Alfred's suit jacket-"I'm sorry I forgot, Alfie. You...I don't know if you can recall? But, you told me once that these flowers are a symbol that one will never forget their loved ones and treasure each and every moment and memory they spent or shared with them, even when said loved one is gone...a-and I forgot that despite promising you I wouldn't."

Alfred 'ah's' quietly, chuckling softly and gently wiping Bruce's tears, smiling slightly at the younger man's displeased expression from his laughter.

"You silly boy of mine. I admit that I...can't mentally recall such a thing happening-" at Bruce's demeanor growing discouraged, he squeezes the other's pale cheek in the hand still cradling his face-"Stop thinking for one second, please, Bruce. I may not remember it in the ways one usually does, but from the promise we made, it seems as though you kept the promise as well as I. You still, after all these years, remembered such a promise and I-" he plucks one singular forget-me-not from the cluster in his pocket and places it on top of Bruce's hair-"did too. I remember how I felt during that moment...because when I look at this flower, I feel love and affection. Not for the flower itself, but for what I know in the depths of myself is attached to said flower."

Bruce's lip wobbles and he reaches up to grab the flower on his head, looking down at the tiny thing in his now much larger hands, letting himself feel the memories of his youth.

It's odd; the feelings he's getting.

He feels amazement and joy looking at the plant, something he remembers feeling when he was younger and Alfred told him the meaning of this tiny flower, but he also feels love and deep affection...not for the flower in and of itself, but because of the feelings and person associated with said plant. Bruce hates that his eyes are watering again, but there's something oddly scary-yet extremely calming-about letting himself simply feel and remember the good times.

He guesses that maybe he got so used to the pain, death and darkness that he started to identify with it instead of simply acknowledging it's there and releasing it.

Alfred tilts Bruce's chin back up so that the younger is facing him head on, his smile loving and kind just like all those years ago. "I think that something is wrong with me, Bruce. I don't know what or why it is...but thank you for remembering our promise, thank you for never truly forgetting us. And while I may not know what's going on now...this old man asks that you keep remembering when I can't? That you-that you treasure every memory and feeling that comes with them."

Bruce lets out a weak chuckle at the renewed promise. "I promise I will, Alfie."

This time it's Alfred that looks at Bruce with big, hope filled eyes. "You really promise me?"

Bruce allows the tears to fall at the familiar words repeated right back to him all these years later, nodding his head and squeezing Alfred's hands in his.

"You have my word, dad. You have my word."

XXX

Ever since that day at his parents gravesite, Bruce found it easier to try and remember the good things, cause if nothing else, than because he made a promise to his dad.

Of course, there were still days that were worse than other's, but for the most part, it felt as though a large weight lifted off of Bruce knowing he still had feelings to remember for him when his mind forgot goodness. Yes, it still hurts to see Alfred slowly deteriorating before his very eyes, forgetting mental images and things he's loved, seeing him forget even the most basic of life skills, but he likes to think he's learned to not only feel and process those heavy emotions, but how to share them with his friends and family.

And now.

Now Bruce stands in the doorway of Alfred's bedroom with watery eyes, watching as each of his children say goodbye to their granddad for the final time, processing the sadness as he watches his babies cry over the man who loved them just as fiercely as Bruce did. Everyone looks at him after they finish their own goodbyes, his body automatically tensing at the attention before he remembers this is his family; people he loves dearly, and that he can loosen himself up...that he can look just as heartbroken as he feels.

Bruce swallows down the tightness in his throat as he approaches Alfred's bedside, lowering himself slowly onto the edge, surprising himself at how he manages to look the dying man in his eyes.

"A-Alfred-" in and out, just as Leslie taught him-"Thank you f-for everything you've done for me...for all of us. When I was in the darkness you came in after me, it didn't matter how dark it was...s-sometimes I think you were even braver than I was." Bruce lets the tears fall freely; unashamedly, grasping Alfred's hand in his own. "I know you don't know what's going on, maybe even unaware of the words I'm saying. B-But I hope that even in these final moments, you know how much I love you? You taught me how to l-live, how to enjoy goodness in my life by you being good to me...sometimes-sometimes I felt like I didn't deserve it."

Bruce sniffles and shakily reaches into his inner jacket pocket, pulling out a small bouquet of forget-me-nots, his smile wobbly as he holds them up in Alfred's line of sight.

"I really, really p-promise that I'll remember you as long as I live, as long as these exist. Y-You taught me that love is a simple thing; something genuine that can never be touched, warped or replaced when it's true-" Bruce feels his calmness crumbling, his shoulders shaking as he releases a loud wail, bending his head onto Alfred's shoulder as he cries for his dad, "I just--I'm gonna miss you and see you in everything, and I thank you for loving someone like me."

Bruce sniffles and sits up to look Alfred in his eyes, it's been so long since he or the family has seen clarity in the gunmetal blue orbs, but to everyone's surprise, the older man slowly looks down at the little flowers almost fondly. He feels frozen in place at the warm gaze being directed towards him, his heart pounding harshly at the small smile the older man gives before whispering. "Love...y-...ou...t-oo." Bruce's eyes widen in shock, his shoulders shaking in a mix of the overwhelming happiness as he laughs and cries harshly.

Something settles inside of Bruce's chest after hearing those words; acceptance.

It seems Alfred never truly forgot after all, his thoughts were just repressed. Bruce kisses his dad on the cheek one last time, his hands running through the very thin hair as his kids surround their grandfather in various colors of forget-me-nots, all promising to never forget him as long as they can love and feel.

Bruce smiles at his dad, surprising himself with how...genuine it feels. "You can go to sleep now, dad. You deserve the rest, we love you."

Alfred looks over his family one final time, a smile gracing his face as his eyes drift closed, his heart full with the love of the people surrounding him and the scent of an everlasting promise carrying him into a restful sleep.

(

"-when deep down he's that eight-year-old boy in a bloody alleyway, the red clinging to his legs and hands like a second skin." I'd like to point out how before that part I stated, "-maybe that's why death clings to him like an insecure child seeking affirmation from an adult or loved one?" I mention that because my intent was to show how Bruce compares death like a clingy child, but then I describe as death (the blood on his clothes and skin) clinging onto the eight-year-old him. 🥲🥲🥲

The part where Bruce admits to Clark and Diana that he's scared is supposed to be the moment he TRULY realizes he's scared. Maybe I don't need to explain it? But I don't know if I wrote it well enough to be understood that while he mentioned he was afraid before, that moment with his friends was a time and space where his mind could actually process his fear.

Okay, now that that's out of the way (I wanted to mention it before I forgot). I want to truly thank anyone and everyone who stops by for this story...I apologize if this is horribly written? I tried to take my time with this (it's been in my drafts since August) as I based this off of my grandma who has dementia.

This story was born out of the constant fretful worrying and sadness I felt at truly realizing my family and I are watching her slowly deteriorate before our eyes. But don't worry! I didn't have Bruce's severe denial about it though (and I'm not shaming anyone who struggles with similar thoughts either, you are loved and seen 💛) XD, I just wanted to write from a mindset of someone who does constantly agonize over the what-ifs of the possible future.

It was also based on my thoughts of wondering how my mom feels watching her mom forgetting everything and such, wondering if her inner self is scared and uncertain about these things as well. Not saying my mom does worry this much, but again, this story was based off of my curious thoughts and basing it off of someone who might be extremely anxious about the future of those they care about.

The situation is sad no doubt...but my optimism and hope shines through as I wrote Bruce slowly coming to terms with things, whereas at the beginning of this story, he was super angry, in denial and anxious. That is just my thought process about it I guess? I admit it's very hard and saddening to witness...especially as said sick person can grow anxious and scared cause they don't remember or know anything, but it's best to live everyday treasuring the memories and feelings you have of one another rather than stressing about tomorrow.

I want to encourage you as my readers to treasure your memories and feelings too ☺️. Even if one day your mind forgets...you ALWAYS remember how you felt, and those feelings are a kind of memory in and of itself, it just doesn't have the mental images to go with it.

The ending made me really sad when writing it 😭. I didn't realize how deeply this story got to me until I wrote Alfred passing on, especially as my own grandma is the grandparent my siblings and I have left-- Anywho! I'm probably sharing TMI, sorry my lovelies.

I hope the medical examination was written okay enough? I made it that way as I wasn't present when my grandma got her scans done and based the results out of my grandma's own, that's why I never went back to mentioning if Alfred has Alzheimer's specifically or anything...cause our grandma still hasn't gotten a very clear diagnosis rn. And I'm sorry if the speed of Alfred getting symptoms is maybe quick or odd? My grandma just kind of quickly declined in her memory after our grandad (her husband) passed, so that's why I also wrote and implied that Bruce thought it was caused from past (most likely undealt with) grief.

Also, I did my best when researching flower language ☺️, I hope I did okay? I chose the ones I really loved best as most flowers have multiple meanings anyway. I know there is more I wanted to say to you all here...but I speak too much as is 😂. Again, any and all who stopped to read are truly treasured, thank you so much!

Oh! Something I wanted to mention is how the ending isn't meant to glamorize Dementia/Alzheimer's (at least I hope it doesn't seem that way?), I just wanted something slightly hopeful and sweet to end on. I also based it off of some people's stories of their loved one having a random moment of lucidity before passing away.

That's truly all I wanted to share, so, thank you for reading my long notes always!

I hope everyone stays safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛💛💛💛)

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