“Your father isn’t ignoring you,” Alfred says, cutting up cucumbers for your sandwich. He glances at you, sitting at the dinner table waiting for him. His face softens. You always wait, no matter how long Bruce takes. “He’s busy today, that is all.”
It breaks his heart to see you upset. He knows Bruce feels obligated to protect Gotham, but what about you? You’re the only one not involved in crime fighting. He knows you think that’s why Bruce doesn’t spend time with you. Alfred’s gotten into arguments with him about it time and time again.
Bruce loves you, he’s just struggling to show it. He can’t connect as well with you. Alfred understands, truly, but that doesn’t change the fact you’re left alone most nights.
“I can sit with you, if you’d like,” Alfred suggests. He wants to see you smile. “We can watch that movie you like. What was it called?”
He’s aware of the title, he just wants you to say it. Anything to get your mind off of another one of Bruce’s broken promises. He said he’d be here for dinner tonight, but he won’t be. You’re both aware of it.
When you were younger, you had more faith that Bruce would show up. Alfred’s watched that hope fade with the years. He sees Bruce in you more than either of you realize. Sees the child that lost both of his parents when you sit at that dinning table that’s much too large.