Disclaimer: DC Comics and Time/Warner own All the characters; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright.

Healing Rifts

By

Peggie

I sometimes wonder if Bruce's problems exist despite me or because of me. Thirty years ago life was pretty straightforward. Well as straightforward as it can be for anyone keen on a stage career.

I had come to America to try to get on to Broadway. Times were pretty tough for actors so I ended up "resting" more often than not. To survive until the situation improved I had taken up the post of butler at Wayne Manor. A post my father had held for a short time before he met my mother and returned to England. I found the Wayne's admirable people and their son Bruce a loveable young scamp. I very soon found that I had become part of the household, even part of the family.

Thus it was with some regret that I had spoken to Master Wayne about giving in my notice, to take a Broadway role that had been offered to me. That was shortly before the fateful night they were murder.

I still vividly remember that night. When the Wayne's hadn't returned by the expected time I had started to worry. Master Wayne was a very precise man he was never late. When several hours later young Dr Leslie arrived with young Master Bruce and the news of the murders I was devastated.

The lad was in shock and remained so for months. There was no way I could leave him. The boy had no one, but trustees and businessmen, to watch out for him. When I saw their cold approach to a small lonely child I knew I couldn't abandon him, no matter how good the offer to leave was.

It took months to get the lad speaking again. My heart ached every night when I held him close trying to erase the nightmares. Here was a small boy just past his eighth birthday and his life had been so cruelly shattered.

It happens slowly and slyly the way a child buries himself in your heart. I always wanted a son, a lad of my own to love, protect and teach. I suspect most men do. I came from a large happy family. Never much money, but plenty of love. That's all I ever wanted for myself, a family to love and care for, especially a son. I very soon found I had one, a silent, broken boy, who all the love and protection I could give would never make whole, because his world had been shattered, before I could prevent it happening.

Despite all the obstacles I did my best for the boy. After a few months part of his nightmares focused on the possibility of losing me as well. He feared I would leave Wayne Manor and he would be on his own. Despite all my assurances, that I loved him and would never leave him, the boy would not be comforted. The doctors said we needed to put our relationship on a legal basis to give the lad a feeling of security. I ask to be allowed to adopt the boy, but that met with an out and out refusal. They thought I wanted his money! No matter how Dr Leslie or I tried to persuade them otherwise I was left with no choice, but to carry on as we were. Unfortunately, the lad's nightmares were getting worse and I feared for his sanity. Eventually I was allowed to become Bruce's guardian. Not a comfortable position for either of us, I was guardian and employee at the same time. The trustees always made sure I understood that in their eyes I was more like an employee and that I should not try to influence the boy. It was a delicate path. He was my son, but only I could know that. We could never show each other outward affection for fear of what the Wayne Trustees might construe from it. I always felt this to be the reason Bruce is unable to deal with his own feeling for his son.

It is hard watching two people you love tearing each other apart. Breaking each other's hearts. Especially when you know that really deep down they love each other and that each one is hurting so much because of that love.

Why things went so wrong I don't quite know, in all my sixty-five years I've never understood how love can turn to hate so fast. Yet its not quite hate, because love still exists otherwise they couldn't hurt each other so much.

The fault is partly mine, I let Bruce Wayne grow up into the man he is. Yet in many ways I was prevent from doing things differently. I could not be the father Bruce needed. Two things stopped me, one the trustees of the Wayne Trust Fund and the other more difficult obstacle was Bruce's own perceptions of his father, Dr Thomas Wayne.

When young most children see their parents as perfect people who can do no wrong. Part of growing up is accepting that these once flawless individuals are human and have faults. Bruce never quite made it to that stage. I remember him and his father having battles of wills over minor things. I also remember them having a full-blown father and son row, one I almost resigned over, because I consider Master Wayne was being too harsh with his son. But Bruce has forgotten these incidents. They were lost in Bruce's grief and guilt. Thomas Wayne became in his son's eyes the perfect father, a thing of myths and legend. No man could compete with that. Now Bruce sees all father son relationships in the same rose tinted way. The loving father doing what is right for his son and the son accepting that father knows best.

Unfortunately his son, Master Dick, is now a man who lives by his own codes. And like all sons, he has gone through the stages of seeing Bruce as the perfect father to the realisation that he is in fact a flawed human being.

Bruce and I never had the relationship that allowed him to understand these changes. Although he is my only son, well the nearest thing I will ever have to one, I certainly loved him as my own; I was never his father. I went from employee to guardian to employee. I think, he returns the love I give him, but one can never be sure with Bruce. A large part of the learning process linked to family relationships was lost to him.

I remember the rows between my father and myself when I chose the stage as a career. It took almost a year for my father to accept that I was my own man and would either survive or fall on my own actions. It took the same amount of time for me to accept his objections were not based on a lack of faith in my talents, but on his love for me. On wanting to keep me safe, to stop the world from hurting me. It took my father's knowledge of his own relationship with his father and my mothers wise council to us both to finally heal the rift.

I know these are the same reasons that Bruce treats Master Dick in way he does. He wants to keep the boy safe, but in doing so he is stopping the lad developing into a man. Being a family is about trusting each other to do what is right and more importantly to be there to give uncritical support if things don't work out.

I keep trying to tell Bruce this, but my council falls on to deaf ears. I must for now stay in the middle, playing the difficult role my mother played all those years ago. A role I suspect many mothers play, a sounding board to two opposing sides, the voice of reason in a sea of hatred, love and regret. I only pray I am strong enough to heal the rift.