What the Pictures Show

Chapter 9

The elegant dining room of Wayne Manor was filled with an uncomfortable silence that hung heavy in the air. Alfred, who had been serving the meal, carefully laid out the silverware with a deliberate slowness. His gentle features were now hardened and his eyes glinted with restrained fury.

Bruce glanced around the room, his normally confident demeanor faltering in the face of his family's icy glares. Everyone was furious with him and he just didn't understand it. Didn't they know Dick and he argued a lot? It was the nature of their relationship. They argued, they made up, and then they got into another argument. What was so different about this time?

The tension in the room was suffocating. The silence was only broken by the clinking of silverware against plates and the occasional soft sigh. Both Tim and Damian were lost in their own thoughts but unified in their anger towards Bruce. Tim picked at his food, pushing the half-eaten peas around his plate and staring at the tablecloth with undue interest. He'd refused to say a single word to Bruce since he'd come home after visiting Dick. Damian's usually sharp tongue was silent and he ate his food quickly, his glare never straying from Bruce's face. After arriving at the Manor following his visit to his brother, Damian had declared that Bruce wasn't worth speaking to and hadn't said another word since.

Bruce knew that the two boys idolized Dick, but even this was a bit much. Still, maybe it was time to be the bigger man and apologize even though it was really an unnecessary thing to do.

"I...I apologize for what happened earlier with Dick. I know I shouldn't treat him that way," he said. He looked around eagerly for any sign of forgiveness or understanding from his tablemates. His words hung in the air, surrounded by silence. No one acknowledged his apology.

Bruce's shoulders sagged. He was exhausted. The food on his plate had long lost its appeal, and he pushed it aside. He cast a rueful glance at Alfred, the man who had been his loyal confidant and mentor for years, and his heart ached at the sight of the disapproval etched on the older man's face. "What do you want me to say? Throw me a bone here. How do you want me to make this right?"

"Have you talked to Master Richard yet?" Alfred asked, wiping the corner of his mouth.

"No," Bruce confessed.

Alfred let out another sigh and returned to his meal.

Bruce didn't speak up again.

As the meal neared its end, the doorbell echoed through the mansion, causing everyone to startle. Tim glanced at Alfred, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and concern. Alfred's face remained impassive, but a flicker of worry danced in his eyes. They both knew that a knock on the door at this hour rarely meant good news.

Minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity as the remaining family members sat, locked in their own thoughts. Tim's fingers tapped nervously against the table and Damian turned his eyes away from his father and towards the door Alfred had gone out of.

Alfred returned, his footsteps heavy, and he was accompanied by an unexpected guest—a police officer. The sight of the officer in the doorway caught everyone's attention, freezing them in place. Alfred met the gaze of each person at the table, conveying the gravity of the situation without uttering a word. The room fell into an even deeper silence, as if the air had been sucked out.

The officer announced that Bruce Wayne was to be placed under arrest for assaulting Dick Grayson and over concerns of last and present child abuse. He would be taken into custody and, due to the allegations against him, the minor currently under his care would be removed and placed into the care of Alfred Pennyworth. Bruce would not be permitted to have any contact with the children unless determined otherwise in a court of law.

Tim and Damian exchanged glances, their previous anger momentarily forgotten as worry etched lines on their faces. Bruce rose slowly from his seat, his expression resigned.

Alfred stepped forward. "Officer, please understand, Master Bruce has done nothing of the sort. This must be a grave misunderstanding."

"I'm sorry, but my orders are clear. I must take Mr. Wayne into custody," the officer huffed."

Both Tim and Damian jumped from their seats at the sight of handcuffs as the officer moved towards their father and started reading his rights. They shouted out cries of protest but were silenced by Alfred.

"Master Timothy, Master Damian," Alfred began, putting his hands on their shoulders, "you must understand that it's best if you do not approach him at this time. The situation is already quite volatile. We can not risk making it worse."

Bruce made no struggle as he was led outside the Manor, but, from his clenched fists and furrowed brow, it was obvious that he wanted to. Just as the officer prepared to place Bruce in the waiting police car, a familiar voice rang out, thick with anguish. "Stop! Don't take him!"

All heads turned to behold a figure running towards them, tears streaming down his face. It was Dick. His face was still bruised and swollen from his disastrous patrol a few nights ago. Considering the situation, it was not a good look.

His voice trembled as he pleaded, "You can't do this. Bruce... he's not..."

The officer held up a hand, cutting off Dick's protest. "If you have any evidence or information that can prove Mr. Wayne's innocence, you may offer it up to his lawyers, but we need to act on what we know at this moment."

Tears welled up in Dick's eyes. In that moment, all the distance and animosity that had grown between Bruce and him seemed insignificant compared to the overwhelming feeling of loss and guilt he felt now. Making tentative eye contact with his father, Dick let out a cry. "I'm sorry, Bruce. I'm so sorry. I'll make it right, I promise!"

Bruce just looked away.