Behind the Mask

Chapter 20

Once Dick got back to the cave he took the zeta beam to Gotham, the prospect of going home, for once, not seeming so terribly unbearable. He managed to sneak back into the house undetected, shedding his uniform in his bedroom as he wasn’t quite ready to confront Bruce. He’d already decided that he would go to Alfred first, knowing the old man would still be awake as long as he knew that Dick was away.

Dick pulled on a pair of jeans, wondering for the first time in a long time if they’d been washed recently. He then took a moment to examine the bruising on his chest from being smacked out of midair by Parasite and falling through a burning building. It was extensive, to say the least, but nothing he couldn’t handle; if it started to hurt later, he would let Alfred look at it. He gently pulled a t-shirt on, followed by a hoodie and ran a hand through his hair, crinkling his nose as it stood on end. He definitely needed a shower.

Finally Dick sighed, exiting the bathroom and throwing a quick glance at the clock, 3:32 am, before steeling himself and pushing open his bedroom door. Once in the hallway he chanced a glance into Bruce’s room, not very surprised to find it empty; Batman was probably working late again. The acrobat slowly made his way towards the stairs, the same feeling of failure and shame he’d felt back at the circus returning with a renewed vengeance. But it was too late to turn back. He knew he had to face this eventually, and Alfred was a good place to start.

“Hey, Alfred,” Dick called softly, padding nimbly down the staircase, eyes searching the gloom for the telltale glow from an occupied room.

“Master Richard!” The old butler’s face appeared, illuminated by a candle he was holding.

Dick smiled at the sight of the man, his eyes suddenly beginning to feel hot as he began to finally realize all he’d put Alfred through the past few months.

“Candles are a little old fashioned, don’t you think?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood slightly.

“Oh, Master Dick, I’m so glad you’re back.” The lines on the old face wrinkled in pure joy and Dick couldn’t help it anymore. Rushing forward, he threw himself into Alfred’s arms, tears beginning to stream down his face once more.

“Alfred,” He sobbed, gripping the fabric of the man’s suit in his fingers, breathing deeply in the smell of peppermint and pine, letting it wash over him and comfort him.

Alfred stood, stoically as ever, gently running a hand through the boy’s hair, as the other rested against his back, careful to keep the candle from burning the dark locks.

“Alfred, I’m so sorry,” Dick choked, his face buried in the butler’s chest as his tears soaked the white shirt.

“Master Dick.” The voice was filled with joy and relief, only causing Dick to tremble harder as the gravity of the situation hit him – again, and again and again.

“A-Alfred, I’ve m-messed up s-so bad.”

“Shh, it’s okay.” Alfred gently led the boy over the stairs, sitting him down as he continued to cry into the butler’s chest.

“I-I don’t know what got into me.” Dick sniffled. “I-I just…. Alfred, wh-what have I done? B-Bruce, you, everyone must hate me! I-I’m s-so sorry!”

Alfred continued to run his hand over the boy’s hair, his eyebrows stitched together in agony at pain and sorrow his youngest boy was feeling. After a few moments he finally spoke again:

“Why do we fall, Master Richard?”

“Wh-what?” Dick choked, looking up with a tear-stained face.

“Why do we fall?”

Dick sniffled, reaching up to wipe the tears on his face with his sleeve. “S-so we can learn to p-pick ourselves back up….”