Chapter 6
Rachel Dawes' memorial service was a very sad business. Jim sat in the back of the room in the funeral home and observed the events unfold in front of him. He felt totally out of place; and if Bruce hadn't asked him to attend, he'd never have come on his own or would have probably fled the scene the second he spotted the first of the two dozen guests – mostly co-workers he recognized from his visits at court – who were seated in two rows before him now. He had never really talked to any of them, unless the topic was work-related, so he listened in grim silence as one after the other got up and spoke a few words of remembrance about their late Assistant District Attorney. Jim couldn't follow their in-jokes and memories, but he understood that Rachel had been very well-liked and respected among her colleagues who missed her dearly. The Joker's madness had claimed one too many young victims, and even the knowledge that the madman was locked up in Arkham now, awaiting his trial and probably several life sentences in the institute, couldn't lessen Jim's anger and sadness.
Jim didn't know Rachel's relatives in person and because he'd arrived just in time for the memorial to begin, no formal introductions had been made. He could only assume that the bowed white and brown-haired heads in the first row belonged to Rachel's elderly mother and her cousins. Bruce and Alfred were seated directly behind the three women and both men's slumped shoulders spoke of deep grief and sorrow. The sight made Jim's heart ache even more. The butler and his master were unconsciously leaning towards each other, arms almost touching, and for once Jim didn't know who was supporting whom. He knew that the Dawes family had worked and lived at Wayne Manor when Bruce's parents were still alive, and knowing Alfred's caring nature, he'd surely accepted little Rachel as the daughter he'd never had himself. So in a way, they weren't only saying goodbye to a beloved friend today, but to a daughter and sister as well.
The memory of how close he'd come to loosing his own son, his own family, just a few days ago, made Jim's heart skip a beat, and he had to close his eyes and draw a deep breath to avoid panicking or running out of the room in order to call Barbara and the kids to make sure they were okay. As if sensing his distress, Bruce turned around and sent him a small, sad smile before turning back to where the pastor had now taken his place in the front of the room, next to a beautiful bouquet of flowers that framed the photograph of a smiling Rachel. Jim didn't know when or where it had been taken, but it looked recent to his eyes and showed Rachel the way he wanted to remember her: full of life and happiness, despite the always present threat Gotham's underworld posed in this city.
Jim sighed and tried to concentrate on what the pastor said, but it didn't sound as if he'd known Rachel very well. He talked about her achievements as ADA and called her death a tragedy and a loss for Gotham. Jim agreed with him on that, but the loss for her family and friends weighed much heavier in his opinion, so he stopped listening to the well-rehearsed speech and went back to observing his fellow mourners. Luckily, the man hadn't mentioned Batman's role in the past events. He wasn't sure how Bruce and Alfred would have reacted if the pastor had said a single bad word about the vigilante. Then again, Jim wasn't sure how he would have reacted himself if the pastor had said something disparaging about the Dark Knight.
Now that he knew the truth about Batman, Jim couldn't understand why he hadn't been more suspicious or had drawn the right conclusions about Gotham's silent guardian sooner when he'd heard the story about Batman appearing on the scene at Bruce Wayne's fundraiser. Everybody had seen that Batman had attacked the moment the Joker held a knife to Rachel's throat, and then jumped from a skyscraper in order to save her. And the following day, when they had the Joker at MCU for questioning, Batman had raced to Rachel's rescue without even thinking twice after having been mocked about his alleged relationship with her.
Jim's cop sense should have told him that there was more behind the vigilante's actions than his usual sense of duty. Then again, he couldn't have known because he wasn't aware of Bruce and Rachel's connection at the time. Besides, Rachel had been as good as engaged, and her boyfriend simply couldn't have been Batman – unless he was able to be in two places at once.
Jim suddenly broke from his musings when Bruce stood up. He reached down to help Alfred to his feet, and Jim suddenly remembered how old Bruce's former guardian must be. Usually you didn't notice because Alfred was too busy looking after his stubborn charge and hiding his own aches and tired bones, but today the toll the recent events had taken on him was clearly visible. Jim made a mental note to try to talk to Alfred later today. Maybe the old butler would like to have a chat with someone closer to his own age. He didn't doubt Bruce's willingness to talk to his friend, but Jim was ready to bet that Alfred would simply hold off because Bruce had already enough to worry about.
The relationship between Bruce Wayne and his butler never ceased to amaze Jim. The exchanges between the two men he'd been privy to clearly showed how much they cared for each other. Despite their differences of age and rank, their status as master and butler, their very distinct tempers and approaches to life, there was an invisible bond between them that few outside their little family had ever been allowed to see – except for Jim. And for the umpteenth time in the past week, he asked himself why he deserved to be part of something this special – and scary. Jim, you're getting sentimental, he chastised himself. But he couldn't deny that seeing someone so totally devoted to each other, without even thinking about it, definitely made for a humbling experience.
He shook off these uncharacteristically philosophical thoughts and followed the other guests toward the grieving family to offer his condolences. Afterwards he couldn't even remember what he'd said to Mrs. Dawes, but he must have found the right words because for just a split second, a small smile had appeared on the elderly woman's face which pleased Jim and hurt him deeply at the same time. One simple moment had been enough to show the family resemblance between Rachel and her mother; it was as if Rachel had sent him one last forgiving smile before leaving this world forever.
A few minutes later, Alfred found him on a bench just outside the funeral home, staring into space. Bruce was nowhere to be seen, and Jim was thankful for that. The older man didn't say anything. He simply sat down next to Jim, and both men shared a long moment in quietness, watching the other attendees leave the funeral home: sometimes in groups of twos or threes, sometimes alone, the dark clad figures made their way to the waiting cars or walked off in thoughtful silence. Some of them cast the two men on the bench a guarded look, but luckily no one tried to talk to them. Jim returned a silent greeting with a nod once or twice, but other than that they remained undisturbed and Jim used the time to regain his composure.
When he finally turned towards his gentle companion, he could see that Alfred had done the same. His previously slumped shoulders and posture were gone; he looked composed and graceful as always, ready to take on the world or any mischief his young master might conjure up next. The thought made Jim chuckle, but he chose to ignore Alfred's questioning glance and asked a question of his own instead. The older man obviously didn't want to talk about his personal thoughts, so Jim said the first thing that came to his mind.
"Does he ever cry?" Jim asked, and he didn't have to elaborate. Alfred knew exactly what Jim meant, and he showed no sign that he disapproved of the personal nature of the question.
"Yes," came the quiet reply.
Jim regarded Alfred thoughtfully, and the other man continued, "I've seen him cry two times: after his parents' funeral and the night Rachel died. Why do you ask?"
Jim shrugged uncomfortably. "I'm not quite sure. Sometimes he seems to be more than a human being to me."
The butler nodded in agreement. "That is his goal: to become a symbol, incorruptible, intangible."
Jim sighed. "I know, but still, he's only a man. Yet he hardly allows anyone to see it. Don't you think that one day he might break under the pressure? We came pretty close to losing him last week."
Alfred's face lit up despite the grave topic.
"Why are you smiling?" Jim asked, not able to follow his train of thoughts.
The older man's smile deepened. "You said 'we'."
"Uhm…" Jim didn't know what to say to that, so he looked away, half expecting Bruce, with his impeccable timing, to stand in the doorway, but no – no such luck.
Alfred's gentle voice brought him back to their conversion. "It is only natural to be concerned. You are his friend. I didn't expect anything less from you, or I wouldn't have called you when we needed help. No one wants to say it, but we all know that there may come a day when I can't help him any more. And I'm not getting any younger, you know. There might be a time when he comes to you instead of me. He would never want to admit it for a moment, but he needs someone who understands; and not only that, he needs acceptance, too."
The implications of that statement and the matter-of-fact way in which it was presented made Jim swallow and struggle for a reply. This time, though, he really got rescued by Bruce appearing in the shadow of the funeral home's entrance. Relieved that he didn't have to answer anymore – Bruce would surely not appreciate him asking his butler questions about his personal life – Jim got up and looked at Bruce expectantly, Alfred right behind him.
Bruce didn't look at Jim but at his old mentor instead and said, "Let's go home."
Alfred nodded once. "Very well, Master Wayne," he said, and with one last glance toward Jim, walked away into the direction of their car. Bruce started to follow, but then he turned around and looked at Jim with a slightly apologetic expression on his face.
"I'll call you, okay?"
Jim understood perfectly well how hard the memorial service must have been for his friend, and he wasn't angry to be abandoned like this. Despite Bruce's outer appearance of strength and confidence, he still harbored a lot of insecurities and unresolved issues he needed to sort out without anyone looking on. So Jim nodded and sent his friend a small, comforting smile. "Don't worry, I'll be fine," he said and made a shooing motion with his hand, sending Bruce on his way.
Bruce started walking, but then he turned around one last time and said, so quietly that Jim had to strain to hear, "Thank you." And with that he was gone.
The End
A/N: So...this is it! The end. Thank you for reading, and a special thanks to my avid reviewers! I hope you enjoyed the story. :) (There's something you didn't like? Drop me a line anyway. I love to hear from my readers.)
I know this story could have been longer, but nothing else I tried felt right for these two stubborn friends, so I decided to concentrate on the most important moments of their encounters for now. So yes, this means there are other plot bunnies hopping around in my head. Stephens needs to learn the truth one day, Gordon has to attend Bruce's housewarming party... ;)
And the ending? Well, let's just say that it's still Batman we're talking about here. He may be more human now, but no one can control him, no one can really get close to him if he's in one of his moods... Sometimes he just has to get away, and Jim has to live with that.