Alfred has always looked after young Master Wayne. It started when Master Wayne was just a baby, an adorable child that looked like an angel while sleeping. The angelic baby became a hyperactive toddler, overly curious and way too smart for his young age. Then The Tragedy happened, and Alfred was left to pick up the pieces of what was left of his young protege. The sad child turned into a rebellious teenager, an angsty and brooding black-clad figure who hated the world and himself. Gradually the aggression faded, if only a bit, and the teenager became a young man who had no idea what to do with his life or the dark feelings he was possessed with.
Alfred doesn’t have a clear insight of the seven long years that followed the last transition. It has been said the mind blocks out the traumatizing memories to save itself – maybe that is what happened to Alfred. Not that it really mattered in the end, as Master Wayne returned eventually.
At first it seemed nothing had changed, and yet everything was. Master Wayne was at the same time the imposing vigilante on a mission to save the city, and the billionaire airhead who had no idea what was going on. Only Alfred could see the two parts as one piece of a puzzle, and sometimes what he saw scared him.
That was until Master Gordon came along.
Master Gordon was there when The Tragedy happened, a young, idealistic cop with a hope for a better future. The idealism was shaken gradually and hid under layers and layers of self-preservation for many years to come, and the hope was almost forgotten. Master Gordon got older and wiser and more realistic, and was on the verge of becoming cynical when the miracle happened: two became one.
Alfred can’t quite pinpoint the moment Masters Wayne and Gordon stopped to exist as two different personas and became a new, whole unit. They are so different and yet the same, and sometimes it’s hard for Alfred to say where the one starts and the other ends. Bruce is caught speeding with Russian ballet dancers, and Commissioner Gordon is the one talking on the radio about upgrading the city’s traffic surveillance. Jim is injured by the bullet shot by a madman in a bank filled with terrified people, and Batman is the one saving the day.
Alfred peeks in from the slightly ajar bedroom door. He can’t see much in the darkness, but he knows Master Gordon’s tuxedo and various armour plates are there on the floor on a messy heap. The covers are half on the floor, half on the bed, and on top of everything two figures are laying silently, breathing evenly.
Alfred smiles to himself, and after seeing that everything is in fact alright he silently closes the door. It’s his duty after all to look after Masters Wayne and Gordon.