#yall i am such a sucker for fics where thomas and martha are definitely Involved in Some Shit

[mango-forest]

The first time Bruce saw the ghost, he was so terrified that he ran straight to Alfred, who was in the kitchen; he was so terrified, in fact, that even years later he never noticed how odd it was that he didn’t pass a single servant on the way—he didn’t even remember that detail. His parents were away at work, and so he tried to tug Alfred out by his clothes, running purely on fear, saying, “Alfred! There’s someone in the—the attic! They were—I saw them! We have to go!”

The attic was maybe the one place the servants never went to on a daily or weekly basis, and instead only went every few months. Alfred stopped him, knelt down with his hands finding their way onto Bruce’s shoulders, and asked in the most serious voice Bruce had ever heard from him, “Master Bruce, are you saying there is a stranger in the manor’s attic?”

“Yes! I’m not lying, I swear!”

Alfred nodded to himself. “Alright. Master Bruce,” he said, beckoning a maid over, “go with Alice; she will take you to your parents.”

“Wait, what about you?” Bruce cried as Alfred told the situation to the young lady. She immediately started trying to gently hurry him along towards the entrance hall as Alfred grabbed one of the other servants and started talking in an undertone. Bruce couldn’t understand why the older man was ignoring him. Couldn’t he see that everyone had to leave? It wasn’t safe!

The servant Alfred was talking to nodded and started swiftly making his way to another servant, taking out from under his suit jacket what looked like a—

“Is that a gun?” Bruce gasped as Alice finally just picked him up, moving urgently down the halls. He struggled in her arms, but as they exited the house and started towards one of the cars, Bruce was starting to lose energy. He was mainly just tired and confused now.

“Are we going to see my mom and dad now?” he asked Alice as she started the car.

“Yes, Master Bruce,” she politely replied, backing out of the driveway.

Bruce fidgeted with the seat buckle. “Alice, why did that servant have a gun?”

Alice hummed, keeping her eyes on the road and its surroundings. “Well, Master Bruce, certain staff in your family’s manor are… equipped with certain things to ensure both you and your parents’ safety. Some of us have legal permits to carry guns, and so—with your mother and father’s permission—we have them while we work for your family.”

Bruce stayed quiet, unsure how to feel about being unaware of this for his whole life.

The silence lasted until they had gotten to the Wayne Enterprise building, with his dad already being at the steps with his mom. The car barely stopped before they were hurriedly stepping into the car, next to Bruce.

“Are you okay, Bruce?” his mom asked first, checking him over. The car started moving again.

“Yeah, I’m alright Mom,” Bruce said. “But we need to go back and get Alfred!”

“We're not going back to the manor. We’re going to the police station,” his dad said. “Alfred will meet us there.”

Soon enough, they were in one of the offices in the police station. Bruce sat in one of the only chairs while his parents stood, joined by a cop with pepper hair and a shiny badge on.

“Now, we couldn’t find anyone up there, or when we did a sweep of the house. However,” the cop held up a hand when he saw Bruce open his mouth to protest, “there were signs of things being moved recently due to dust prints, along with a makeshift bed in one of the corners.”

“What do we do?” his father asked.

“Well, here’s the tricky part: while things were moved pretty recently, there were no food wrappers, or crumbs, or matches. Not even a flashlight or a lantern, all being common things seen where squatters are. There’s a chance that they manage to clean up before Mr. Pennyworth got there with his gun, but it’s highly unlikely. Our best guess is that the squatter left recently, maybe like last week, to find a new place. You said there was gonna be a party soon? Probably scared ‘em off with all the extra traffic.”

Bruce frowned. But he did see someone! Of course, he didn’t stay for long, and the only reason he was up there was because he thought there might’ve been more detective books in storage and maybe he was already a bit scared of how dark it was but—

“But I did see someone, Dad,” he told them later in the car; Alice had gone somewhere and he hadn’t seen her since. No one told him where she went, either. “I promise. They were taller than me, and had glowing eyes, and sharp teeth, and claws—“

His dad’s grip on the steering wheel jerked and his mom let out a grunt as their car dangerously swerved on the road before his dad pulled over. “Glowing eyes and claws?” he asked, twisted in his seat in order to stare at Bruce, who was starting to feel very small all of the sudden.

“I—yeah,” he muttered, a bit frightened at the intensity in his father’s expression.

His father’s jaw clenched before he seemed to realize he was almost glaring at his eight-year-old son. He turned back around and started the car again. “Bruce, don’t—don’t talk about this again, okay? Just trust us, we’ll handle it from here.”

“Mom?” Bruce asked, uncertainly. His mom was uncharacteristically quiet, staring at the car’s dash with a furrowed brow and a tense mouth. “Is the gala still happening?”

His mom sighed. “I don’t know, baby. I just don’t know.”

The rest of the car ride home was spent in silence.

Eight-year-old Bruce: Who is the boy in the attic?

Thomas: We don't talk about him

Ten-year-old Bruce: Who is the boy in the attic

Alfred: I've never seen anyone up there, Master Bruce. But if I did, I would recommend acting as though you never saw him

Twenty-four-year-old Bruce: Don't go to the attic

Nine-year-old Dick: Why not?

Bruce: The Waynes just don't go up there or acknowledge what may or may not be there. You just never let those things know you can see them

Danny, haunting Wayne Manor for over a decade: SQUATTER RIGHTS

Dick: What was-

Bruce: Shhhhh, go to sleep. You heard nothing. You saw nothing. You say nothing.