The morning light filtering through the heavy curtains shifted subtly as time passed. Tom had managed to fall into a light, restless sleep before he finally convinced himself to get up. His ribs protested the effort, each step sending a dull ache through his side as he moved cautiously from the bed.
He reached for the phone Bruce had left him, tucking it into the pocket of the loose pants Alfred had laid out. The manor was quiet, the kind of stillness that was comforting rather than eerie. Tom wandered out of the room, each step careful and deliberate, his injuries reminding him of their presence with every move.
The hallway outside his room was wide and lavishly decorated. The hardwood floors gleamed beneath his feet, and the walls were lined with artwork and old family portraits. The sheer size of the place made Tom feel small. It was nothing like the cramped apartment he was used to, where every square inch had to be utilized.
As he continued walking, the faint aroma of something rich and savory wafted through the air. His stomach growled in response. At least Wayne Manor doesn’t skimp on breakfast, he thought wryly. His exploration was slow, partially due to his injuries and partially due to the overwhelming sense of awe at being inside the home of the Batman.
Tom followed the tantalizing aroma, his steps slow and deliberate as he navigated the expansive corridors of the manor. Each hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, adorned with ornate fixtures and historic artifacts that made the space feel more like a museum than a home. The grandeur of it all was almost surreal, and despite the ache in his ribs, Tom found himself captivated.
The scent grew stronger as he approached a grand staircase that spiraled down to what he guessed was the main level of the house. He winced slightly, gripping the polished banister for support as he descended. As he reached the bottom Tom stepped through the doorway and into a grand dining room, his eyes immediately drawn to the far end where Alfred stood behind a counter, expertly flipping what looked like an omelet on a skillet. The butler turned his head slightly at the sound of Tom’s entrance, offering a warm, polite smile.
"Ah, Master Tom," Alfred began with a polite smile.
Tom hesitated, a sheepish smile crossing his face. "Uh, could you maybe not call me that? 'Master Tom' feels... weird."
Alfred’s expression remained perfectly composed. "I’m afraid I must decline. Tradition, you see."
Tom shrugged with a faint smirk. "Well, I tried."
Alfred continued, setting the skillet aside. "I trust your explorations haven’t been too taxing on your injuries?"
Tom shook his head and managed a small smile. "No, just… taking it slow. But I couldn’t ignore that smell."
Alfred gestured toward a seat at the long dining table. "Please, have a seat. Breakfast will be ready momentarily. I took the liberty of preparing something that should be gentle on your current state."
Tom sat down gingerly, the ache in his ribs flaring briefly before subsiding. He looked around the room, noting the elegance and care put into every detail. "This place… it’s amazing," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "I’ve never seen anything like it."
As Alfred moved gracefully around the kitchen, his calm presence filled the room with an almost therapeutic steadiness. For the first time since arriving, Tom felt a pang of something unexpected: the urge to open up. He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted—no, needed—to talk to someone about everything that had happened. The surreal nature of his situation, the constant weight of uncertainty—it all felt slightly more manageable in the presence of someone who radiated quiet reassurance.
"Wayne Manor does have its charms, though I daresay it’s the people within it that define its character," he said with a knowing smile. He quickly served up breakfast to Tom.
Tom took a bite, savoring the warmth and flavor that spread through him. It was the first home cooked meal he’d had since… well, since before everything had gone sideways. As he ate, he glanced up at Alfred. "Thanks. For this and, you know, everything else."
Alfred inclined his head with a small smile. "It is my pleasure, Master Tom. A good meal and a safe space are sometimes all one needs to start finding their footing."
Tom hesitated before speaking again, his voice softer. "Back in my world, things weren’t exactly… great. It’s not just the whole interdimensional thing that’s been messing me up. Life before this wasn’t exactly a picnic either."
Alfred inclined his head slightly, his expression thoughtful. "Interdimensional hiccups are rather outside my usual realm of experience, Master Tom. But one doesn’t need to be familiar with such peculiarities to recognize when someone is in need of help." He gestured lightly toward Tom. "You carry a weight that no one should bear alone, and while you may have my secrets or be hesitant to reveal them, it’s clear to me that you are someone who needs our assistance—and deserves it."
Tom nodded, the weight of Alfred’s words settling over him like a comforting blanket. For the first time in a while, he felt a flicker of hope. He looked up again, the curiosity in his voice cutting through the lingering silence. "So, Alfred," Tom began, "what’s a typical day like for you here?"
Alfred paused for a moment, as if considering the question. "It depends, really. Some days are more mundane—handling correspondence, overseeing the upkeep of the estate, and, of course, preparing meals. Other days are… shall we say, less ordinary."
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Less ordinary? Like dealing with the Batcave?"
Alfred chuckled softly. "Among other things, yes. Master Wayne’s endeavors do keep me on my toes. Ensuring his equipment is maintained, managing secure communications, and occasionally patching up injuries are all part of the job."
Tom set his fork down, momentarily distracted by the weight of Alfred’s responsibilities. "That’s a lot for one person. How do you keep it all together?"
Alfred straightened, his expression thoughtful but calm. "Discipline and purpose, Master Tom. I’ve found that knowing why one does something is often the key to managing how one does it. And, if I may be candid, I believe the same will apply to you."
Tom nodded slowly, taking another bite as he mulled over Alfred’s words. "Thanks, Alfred. You make it all seem… manageable."
""It is, with time and effort," Alfred replied. "And remember, you don’t have to face it alone. Master Wayne and I are here to help, as much as you’ll allow."
He paused, his calm gaze meeting Tom’s. "I don’t expect you to open up about everything right away, or perhaps ever. That’s your choice, Master Tom. Building trust takes time, and that’s true for everyone here, myself included. Master Wayne, and indeed the rest of our family, have a habit of holding their burdens close to their chest. They too took time to accept help and to trust those around them. It’s a process, and one you’ll navigate in your own way and at your own pace."
Alfred raised an eyebrow, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. "Also, the Alfred Pennyworth? My, that is quite the title. I do hope I’m living up to the reputation your world has so graciously bestowed upon me."
Tom smiled faintly as he finished the last bite of his breakfast, the warmth of the meal settling comfortably in his stomach. He set the fork down gently on the plate and leaned back, careful not to aggravate his ribs.
"Thanks for listening, Alfred," Tom said, his voice carrying a sincerity that cut through the lingering quiet. "And for the breakfast. I think I really needed both more than I realized."
Alfred inclined his head, his expression calm yet kind. "It’s my pleasure, Master Tom. Conversations and meals alike are best when shared. Should you need more of either, you know where to find me."
Tom chuckled softly, the weight on his shoulders feeling just a bit lighter. "I think I’ll take you up on that. But for now, I should probably stretch my legs and explore more of this place before I start feeling too cooped up."
"An excellent idea," Alfred replied, stepping forward to collect the empty plate. "Do take care not to overexert yourself. Wayne Manor is quite expansive, and you’ll have plenty of time to familiarize yourself with it. Should you lose your way, rest assured I’m never far."
Tom nodded appreciatively and stood, wincing slightly as his side reminded him of his injuries. "Noted. Thanks again, Alfred. I’ll see you around."
With that, he turned and made his way toward the doorway, the grandeur of Wayne Manor once again beckoning him to explore its secrets.
----------------------------------------
As Tom’s footsteps faded down the hallway, Alfred remained in the dining room, meticulously tidying up the space. His hands moved with practiced precision, but his thoughts lingered on the young man who had just left.
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
Tom was a peculiar case—one Alfred had yet to fully grasp. After Master Wayne had briefed him on Tom’s situation, the picture became no less baffling. The idea of an interdimensional visitor suddenly appearing, carrying knowledge of their world, was difficult to reconcile with the pragmatic side of Alfred’s mind. Yet, as implausible as it sounded, Alfred trusted Bruce’s instincts, even if he himself found it hard to fully believe the boy’s extraordinary claims.
Still, there was something undeniably human about the boy’s plight—lost, injured, and burdened by a life that seemed unfairly heavy. Whatever Tom’s truth might be, Alfred could see the struggle in his eyes, the weariness of someone grappling with forces beyond their control. Whether or not his story held water, the boy’s vulnerability was genuine, and that was enough for now.
He felt a pang of pity for Tom. Being thrust into an unfamiliar world, burdened by knowledge no one should have, was no small ordeal. Tom’s gratitude and openness had struck a chord, reminding Alfred of others who had sat at this very table, grappling with their own battles.
He’s not so different from Master Wayne, Alfred thought, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Bruce had once been that lost, too—haunted by a past he couldn’t change, driven by a purpose he could barely articulate. The parallels were impossible to ignore, though Tom lacked the hardened shell that Bruce had long since perfected.
Alfred straightened, his mind already cataloging ways to make Tom’s stay at the manor more comfortable. He would need time, patience, and perhaps a nudge or two in the right direction. And while Alfred wasn’t one to pry, he couldn’t help but wonder about the young man’s story—the details he hadn’t shared, the secrets he still held close.
There was a part of Alfred that remained skeptical. Tom’s claims were fantastical, bordering on the absurd, and yet… there was a sincerity in the boy’s demeanor that was hard to ignore. Whether or not the story of being from another reality is true, Alfred decided, the young man clearly believed it. Until more evidence presented itself, he would reserve judgment. Trust takes time, Alfred reminded himself. He had said as much to Tom, and the same applied to himself.
For now, he would do what he had always done: provide a steady presence, a warm meal, and a listening ear. The rest would come in due course.
With a final glance toward the hallway, Alfred returned to his duties, his resolve firm. Tom was here for a reason, even if neither of them fully understood it yet. And until that reason revealed itself, Alfred would ensure that the young man had what he needed to face whatever lay ahead.
----------------------------------------
Tom wandered the endless halls of Wayne Manor, his footsteps echoing faintly against the marble floors. His mind, however, was far louder than the quiet, imposing house around him. The breakfast he had just shared with Alfred had been nice, but the moment he stepped away, the calm veneer began to crack. Thoughts he’d been avoiding crept in, relentless and unforgiving.
He wasn’t sure how he ended up in this hallway. The portraits on the walls blurred together, stern faces of Waynes past glaring down at him as though judging his every step. He focused on the intricate woodwork along the bannisters, trying to ground himself, but his thoughts clawed their way to the forefront regardless.
Had it been a day now? The memory of standing on that rooftop in his world was as vivid as the polished floors beneath his feet. The cold wind biting at his skin, the city stretched out below, and the crushing weight of hopelessness that had pressed against his chest, making every breath feel like a battle. He’d thought about it for so long, planned it in his head—the moment where it would all stop, where the endless noise and suffocating expectations would finally be silenced.
He had jumped.
For a fleeting second, gravity had claimed him, the wind howling in his ears as the city rushed up to meet him. But instead of impact, there had been light. A burst of blinding, searing light that yanked him out of his descent and flung him into the unknown. The portal had saved him, but it hadn’t been mercy. It had been something else entirely—something he still couldn’t understand.
Tom stopped walking, his hand brushing against the smooth surface of a nearby wall. His breathing hitched, the familiar pang of guilt twisting in his chest. The portal hadn’t saved him. It had interrupted him, dragging him from one kind of despair into a world full of dangers he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Was that better? He wasn’t sure. He’d traded one type of uncertainty for another, and the lingering whispers of his old despair still clung to him like a second skin.
He leaned against the wall, his eyes drifting to a large window overlooking the gardens outside. The sun streamed through, bathing the room in soft light. It felt wrong to be here in a place like this, surrounded by luxury and second chances he wasn’t sure he deserved. Why had the portal chosen him? Had it been random, or was there some cruel cosmic joke at play?
Kaelith’s smirking face flickered to mind, her sharp words from their last encounter ringing in his ears. She’d taunted him about his lack of control, his utter dependence on her presence. He hated how she always seemed to be watching, waiting for him to slip up so she could remind him of his inadequacies. And yet, her survival was tied to his. Was she really mocking him, or was she just as lost as he was?
“Doesn’t matter,” Tom muttered under his breath, pushing himself away from the wall. Dwelling on her wasn’t going to help. She was part of this nightmare, but she wasn’t the cause of it. And if he let her occupy his thoughts any longer, she’d win—or at least, it’d feel like she had.
He resumed walking, his pace slower now. The halls seemed to stretch endlessly ahead, and for a moment, he felt like he was back on that rooftop, staring into an abyss he couldn’t see the bottom of. But unlike then, he wasn’t entirely alone. Alfred, Bruce, even Kaelith in her own twisted way—they were here, for better or worse. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to keep moving, even if he didn’t know where he was headed.
Tom didn’t realize how much time had passed until the light streaming through the windows began to fade, the warm golden hues of evening giving way to the cooler shades of night. The shadows grew longer, stretching across the polished floors as the manor settled into its nightly quiet.
“Master Tom?” Alfred’s familiar voice broke the silence, pulling Tom from his thoughts. He turned to find Alfred standing a short distance away, his expression calm but observant. “Dinner is ready,” Alfred continued, his tone gentle but with an unmistakable undertone of concern.
Tom blinked, startled by how quickly the hours had slipped away. He glanced at the nearby clock, confirming what the dimming light had already told him. “I didn’t realize it was so late,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.
Alfred’s gaze softened. “It’s easy to lose track of time in a place like this,” he said. “But perhaps a meal will help steady you. Shall we?”
Tom nodded, managing a faint smile as he followed Alfred back toward the dining room. For now, he could leave the weight of his thoughts behind, if only for a little while.
----------------------------------------
Tom eased himself into the high-backed chair across from Alfred in the expansive dining room. The table stretched farther than he could see, but tonight, it was set for two. The warm, ambient light reflected off polished silverware, and the comforting aroma of roasted chicken and vegetables filled the air.
“This is… a lot,” Tom admitted, gesturing at the perfectly arranged table setting. “I’m not really used to dinners like this. It’s usually just me and whatever’s quick to throw together.”
Alfred inclined his head, setting a delicate bowl of soup before Tom with precision. “Wayne Manor has always prided itself on maintaining a certain standard, Master Tom. But I imagine a proper meal can do wonders, especially given your recent ordeal.”
Tom hesitated, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s still an upgrade. Usually, I eat alone. This… it’s nice. Having someone to talk to.”
Alfred paused, his expression softening. “I quite understand, Master Tom. I, too, often find myself dining alone. Master Wayne and the rest of the family, as you might imagine, frequently get caught up in their more nocturnal activities.”
Tom nodded, the sense of camaraderie in Alfred’s words easing some of the tension he hadn’t realized he was carrying. “Guess we’ve got that in common, then,” he said lightly. “Still, it’s nice to share a meal for a change.”
Alfred offered a faint smile. “This household, for all its complexities, does make an effort to look after its inhabitants. And you are no exception.”
Tom studied Alfred for a moment, his smile widening slightly. “I’ll admit, I’m a little surprised,” he said. “With everything Bruce told me, I thought there’d be… more suspicion. You’re being really comforting. Nice, even.”
Alfred tilted his head, a flicker of contemplation in his gaze. “If I’m honest, Master Tom, your story is… difficult to fully believe. Interdimensional travelers are hardly a common occurrence, even in this household. But one thing is clear: you are a young man in need of help, and I would be remiss to ignore that.”
Tom blinked, caught off guard by the candid admission. “So, you don’t believe me?”
Alfred’s expression remained gentle but firm. “I reserve judgment until more evidence is available. However, whether your claims are true or not, it is evident you have been through much. You’ll find others here may view you with suspicion due to the circumstances of your arrival. Allow me to be the exception, should you need someone to lean on.”
Tom’s chest tightened, a swell of gratitude pushing past the tension he carried. “Thanks, Alfred. That means more than I can put into words.”
Alfred inclined his head slightly, his demeanor thoughtful. “Perhaps it stems from regret. There are moments I failed to be this for others. Jason, for instance. If Master Wayne and I had done more, been better for him, perhaps his fate might have been different.”
Tom’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of the statement settling over him. “You mean Jason Todd?” he asked cautiously.
Alfred nodded, a faint but unmistakable sadness crossing his features. “Indeed. He was… troubled, to say the least. And while he bore much responsibility for his choices, I cannot help but wonder if more kindness or guidance might have swayed his path. It is a lesson not easily forgotten, and one I hope to apply now.”
Tom nodded again, his voice soft. “I’ll try not to make it harder than it has to be.”
Alfred’s faint smile returned. “I would expect nothing less, Master Tom. Now, do try the soup. It’s a recipe I’ve perfected over the years, though I’ll admit it’s rather humble compared to the more extravagant fare.”
Dinner passed in comfortable conversation. Tom asked Alfred about his day-to-day responsibilities, intrigued by the role the butler played in maintaining Wayne Manor. Alfred recounted his tasks with an air of practiced modesty—overseeing the estate, handling correspondence, and occasionally aiding Master Wayne in “specialized” operations. Tom couldn’t help but admire Alfred’s quiet dedication, though he didn’t press too deeply on the subject of Batman.
“I don’t expect you to spill the family secrets or anything,” Tom added with a grin. “But seriously, you handle a lot. Makes my problems feel kind of small.”
Alfred gave a polite chuckle. “Every task, no matter its size, has its importance, Master Tom. And as you acclimate, you’ll find your own rhythm within these walls.”
As they finished the meal, Alfred cleared the dishes, leaving Tom with a full stomach and a lighter heart. “Thank you for the company,” Tom said, standing with a wince. “I think I needed that more than I realized.”
“Anytime,” Alfred replied, a small smile gracing his usually stoic demeanor. “Do try to rest when you can. Wayne Manor may be vast, but its hospitality is best enjoyed in good health.”