Chapter Text
When Jack Sullivan was a child, when he still had that twinkle of light in his eyes, he truly believed he could find a place where he belonged. He tried so hard to be the perfect kid, someone his foster parents could never get rid of. It took Jack 5 homes to realize that there was no perfect kid. Not in him, at least. No matter how hard he tried, how much effort he gave it, how little he messed up, at the end of the day, he had to pack his things and leave. He had been through 16 total homes now. There was no place for him.
There was no family for him.
That's why it was no surprise when Jack was told he was moving again.
Jack sat on the bus, a duffel bag in his lap filled with a couple outfits and an old laptop- the only things he had. His leg bounced anxiously as he stared out of the window. He wouldn't have admitted it to anyone, but the unfamiliar city made him nervous. He had been to so many places, why was Gotham freaking him out? Something was different here, and it wasn't the fact that the city had the highest crime rate out of any in the country.
He didn't mind the city too much, though. Anything was better than his last foster home.
He squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to push the memories back into the depths of his mind.
When he opened his eyes again, he realized the bus had stopped where he was instructed to get off. He rushed out of his seat, pushing past the crowd of people on the bus. He mumbled small apologies as he squeezed through them and had just barely stepped off of the bus when it quickly drove away, almost tripping him.
"Jeez," Jack muttered, repressing his urge to throw a middle finger in its direction. He was glad he had, because a man immediately pulled up next to him and rolled down the window of his vintage-looking car. He was older, with a receding hairline that stretched to the back of his head, leaving 2 strips of white hair above his ears. He had a wispy white mustache and stone chiseled eyes like he’d seen bad combat, yet he wore a fancy black suit.
“Jack Sullivan?" The man asked, looking him over.
Jack wasn't surprised by the older man. It wasn't rare that social service workers would drive him to his destination- to finalize paperwork, but primarily to make sure he wouldn't run off. He had a history for that. Jack nodded and got into the passenger seat.
"I'm Alfred Pennyworth." He said with a smile and a British accent. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Jack nodded and muttered politely, "Yeah, you too."
They drove for a long time, ascending a winding trail dug into a large hill. It was strangely secluded, surrounded by a dense forest that seemed to stretch a mile either way. Eventually, the trail broke open to...
Hold on, is that a mansion?
Jack's jaw dropped as he gaped at the huge building. It was gothic, with a large main building and two slightly smaller wings flanking the sides. Alfred typed a passcode into the large gate enclosing the building, and they pulled into the driveway bordered by neatly trimmed shrubs.
“No way,” Jack whispered.
“Apologies, Bruce is a little…flashy,” Alfred said, opening the door for Jack. The boy stepped out and glanced around, back and forth, for at least 2 minutes. Alfred chuckled. “Would you like to go inside, now?”
“YES!” Jack yelped ecstatically, then, suddenly realizing that he was a little too enthusiastic, he continued. “I mean…Yes.” Ahem. “Thank you.”
Alfred led the boy up the front steps and opened the door for him.
“Welcome to Wayne Manor.” The man said, proud as if he had decorated it himself.
The entryway was homey, with warm lighting and paintings of regal-looking men lining the walls. There were 7 name-tagged hangers, each with one coat hanging and shoes underneath them. Jack inferred that the person who was fostering him had other kids living there. Great. Bio kids were always a delight. Alfred took him down the hallway and into the living room, where a group of what he assumed were his foster parents' kids were playing some sort of video game. Their ages seemed to range from preteens to early twenties. One kid, maybe 16 or 17, noticed Jack. He nudged one of the others, and within a few moments, they were all staring at him in curiosity.
“These are Master Bruce’s adopted children. Well, everyone besides Damian, but Bruce wasn't aware of…never mind that. That's a long story for another day. I'm the manor’s butler.”
So, he noted, Alfred is not a social service worker, and…adopted children. Interesting. Jack had never lived with any other non-bio kids.
A middle-aged man came into view on the set of stairs to the right. He saw Jack and grinned, moving towards him with a surprising speed for his age. He slicked back his deep black hair with one hand and stuck out the other towards the boy. Jack awkwardly shook it.
“Jack Sullivan! It’s a pleasure to meet you, kid.” He said with a bright smile, “I apologise for my absence. I would have come to pick you up myself but I had a business meeting. I’m not sure if Alfred has introduced me yet, but my name is Bruce Wayne. A lot of the kids like to call me 'B'.”
Jack nodded, a little intimidated by the surprising number of people he would be living with.
“Alfred and I have prepared a room for you- He can show you the way.” He turned to his kids. “You guys, feel free to introduce yourselves when Jack comes back down.”
Alfred led Jack up the grand 2-way stairway that Bruce had come from earlier. He took him down a few halls until they reached a door with a sticker on it labeled “Jack,” and Alfred pushed it open. Jack was amazed by what he saw inside. The large room was clean with windows that looked out to the forest on either side. Against the middle of the furthest wall was a huge bed with a dresser next to it. Most people would call these things “basic necessities.” Jack would say they’d never slept on the floor of a closet for weeks.
He ran around the room in a small circle, fiddling with all the things inside as if checking that they were real.
Alfred pointed to the drawer. “We got some new clothes for you.”
Jack beamed and ran to the drawer, pulling it open and seeing not only clothes but also a small white box. Jack frowned, grabbing it and turning to Alfred. “You left your box in the drawer.”
Alfred smiled politely. “No, that's yours. It's a present from Bruce. Open it!”
Jack confusedly pulled off the lid of the box and had to repress a scream. It was a phone. Not one of those crappy old ones, either. This one seemed to be new from the store.
“No–...no, this is too expensive. You should take it back.” Jack stuttered, putting the lid back on and pushing the box towards Alfred.
Alfred frowned. “Jack, I assure you it is no problem.” He patted his shoulder. “Bruce wanted you to have this.”
Jack bit his lip, stroking the box with his thumb in thought. “Okay, but…I'll take perfect care of it. No scratches, no breaks, nothing."
Alfred smiled again, nodding, and Jack decided he never wanted to leave.