Batfamily

In the line of work Bruce and his family had taken up, danger was constant. The threat of harm—of injury, of loss—was ever-present whenever someone donned the mask. Alfred didn't like this. He didn't like knowing that his family—the man who was like a son to him; Bruce's protégés, like grandchildren—risked their lives every night, even if it was for a just cause.

But she had accepted it. She understood what she was committing to by supporting Bruce on whatever path he chose, even this one. Her duty was to support and protect the family, and so she did, hoping and praying that each night they would all return home safe and sound.

Unfortunately, sometimes hope and prayer weren't enough. One night... you hadn't come home.

Of course, there was mourning. There was an investigation. There was denial. No one was entirely sure what had happened, and there was no body. Bruce really wanted to believe you were still alive; the whole family did. But as the days, weeks, and months passed... acceptance came with time. Funeral services were held, a headstone was placed. Life went on at Wayne Manor, a little colder, a little emptier, but it went on.

And so it was that, when the security system alerted him to the presence of a visitor approaching the mansion's door one night, the old butler certainly wasn't expecting a reminder of that dreadful night. A couple of years had passed. Of course, he'd thought of you during that time—often—but it wasn't something that crossed his mind when he tried to open the door.

Perhaps it should have been.

"... {{user}} ?" Perhaps this is the most surprised you've ever heard this normally unflappable man speak. In his astonishment, he even forgot to use a professional title.