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[color=375a87][b]#375a87[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://i.imgur.com/nmvqlk4_d.webp?maxwidth=760&fidelity=grand][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c].....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [color=9b9b9b][b]descendant tower[/b][/color]
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[color=a8f9ff][i]"Think I’ll get a drink… and go for a swim,"[/i][/color] 

Well, that sounded like one of Imogen’s best ideas to date, though she was piggybacking off of June’s teasing earlier. Not that she was going to complain, the liquor in her veins was already causing enough of a haze that she knew she could get away with some fun before she had to head to Gotham for…not fun. She was half turned, primed to follow Imogen, when another voice cut through her happy haze. [color=d6d6d6]"Ms Wayne, I believe we have an appointment before you set off to your more carnal activities."[/color] 

She sighed, hanging her head for a second so her hair created a curtain that blocked out the rest of the room. She’d nearly forgotten that Alfred planned to sew her arm up, she’d planned to just let it heal on its own, but he’d caught her in the gym this morning trying to stem the bleeding when lifting weights didn’t go in her favor. He tried to understand her aversion to all things first-aid related, she knew he tried, but even Alfred had limits. 

June followed him quietly, throwing a glance toward Jim before she slipped into the elevator. This was the first time in her life she’d felt so out of sync with him, but it felt like it was a direct result of how they were both handling their grief and the powerlessness that came alongside it. They were both very similar in how they coped, barely sleeping, not eating, functionality had become a more distant idea than anything either of them put into practice. She couldn’t fault him for occasionally lashing out, but it was the way he targeted people that were by all rights innocent of his rage that sat like a rock in her stomach. 

The infirmary smelled strongly of antiseptic and disinfectant, the sterile white environment gave her the chills. It felt like the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees once they’d cleared the doorway, but she didn’t complain as Alfred led her behind a curtain and onto one of the many beds. The soft fabric of the blanket rubbed against the exposed skin of her calves as she slipped onto the mattress fully, tucking her feet beneath herself to preserve her warmth. Alfred was busying himself with getting the supplies he’d need, so June pulled off her outer shirt and waited patiently. 

The cut on her arm was throbbing and red, angry and likely one day away from infection despite her borderline obsessive use of rubbing alcohol on it. She stared down at the surgical cut silently, face carefully impassive. She was trying to grow familiar with the new stretch of her skin there, of knowing that something small and cylinder shaped by her own design now lived beneath her skin like a second heartbeat. She startled some when Alfred reappeared by her side, as calm and reassuring as ever. 

[color=d6d6d6]"May I numb the area, Ms Waye?"[/color] He smiled indulgently at her, already knowing the answer before he’d even asked it. June shook her head, shifting on the bed some, and he nodded to himself, pulling out the disinfectant instead of the syringe. She let her eyes slip shut, trying to block out how sharp the sting was. Alfred worked in relative silence for a few minutes, the drag and pull of her skin being sewn back together more than a little uncomfortable. 

[color=375a87]"You can just say it, Alfred."[/color] She sighed, cracking open her eyes to catch a glance at his face before hastily looking away. She felt like a child that knew they were about to be scolded, unable to look her parents in the eyes. Only…Alfred wasn’t her father, he was just the closest thing she had left to one. Juniper swallowed harshly, and clenched her hands to keep them from shaking.

[color=d6d6d6]"I’m worried about you, June Bug."[/color] His voice was very soft, and it broke her heart a little to hear the open concern in his tone. It was valid, she’d changed drastically in a very short amount of time, but she…she felt numb to the guilt of it. There was nothing June could do differently, her father and brother disappearing had changed who she was on a fundamental level. It was something her mom didn’t understand, or maybe she didn’t care to understand, and June had made her peace with that. She needed Alfred to understand though, because without his support she’d feel truly alone. 

[color=375a87]"I’m sorry,"[/color] she whispered, eyes sliding up to the ceiling. One of those stupid robots was above her bed, primed and ready to take over if either of them said the word. [color=375a87]"I just— I can’t, Alfred."[/color]

[color=d6d6d6]"I am not judging you,"[/color] he hushed her before she could go on, before she could spiral any further and unravel across the bed like a sweater being unmade by a loose nail. June used his tone to steady herself, to pull in her emotions until they were a small ball in her chest. [color=d6d6d6]"I have seen this before, you are more like your father than even Thomas is."[/color] 

She took in a sharp breath, and her eyes jumped to his on reflex. Suddenly, all at once, all she needed to know was what Alfred meant by that. June had never seen Bruce Wayne in herself, she had always been too soft, too artistic, too free spirited. Her mom had insisted she took after her grandparents, rather than either of them. It had hurt, in the strangest of ways, to think she was so far removed from her immediate family. Before the disappearances, June had never felt called to indulging in the fight for justice. She’d wanted a life away from fighting crime, but fate was cruel and it did not care about what any one person wanted. She had a role to fill, a part to play, and if she didn’t it wouldn’t spare her regardless. 

[color=375a87]"What would you have told dad, if he was here and I was missing?"[/color] The question rose out of her unbidden, before she could crush it like she crushed so many other senseless and useless inquiries. This was why June preferred to lock herself away from the others, it was easier to control her thoughts and emotions when she didn’t have someone in front of her directly influencing it all by making her aware of how it felt as if there was a gaping hole in her chest. 

[color=d6d6d6]"Grief has a way of making you look behind you, even when you know there is nothing there. Your father went through this as well, always reaching back until he learned how to focus on what was in front of him. I was always worried he would succumb to that darkness, he walked the edge of that abyss every night, but he never fell in."[/color] Alfred drew the thread tight, and snipped it with a small pair of scissors. The simple sound seemed to ricochet in her head, bouncing around in the silence of the room. [color=d6d6d6]"I am now worried that you'll fall into that abyss instead, Juniper."[/color]

[color=375a87]"What if I do?"[/color] This question came just as quickly as the last one had, her heart thundering in her chest at the implication of what the metaphorical abyss could have done to her dad, what it could do to her. 

[color=d6d6d6]"It would not change anything, not for me. We fall so that we may pick ourselves up again, and I will help you do so."[/color] His answer was resolute and gentle, and it made her well placed walls crumble. Her bottom lip wobbled, but she tried to hold it all in, her grief was turning into something too violent for tears, crying over it felt wrong now. 

[color=375a87]"I’m not the same person anymore, Alfred. You don’t know me like you used to, no one does."[/color]

[color=d6d6d6]"Then I will get to know you once more."[/color] 

Her breath caught in her throat, and June squeezed her eyes shut. Sometimes, her grief felt like a kitchen that had once been full of light and life. It had gone cold and desolate though, and she felt as if she was left sitting alone at a darkened table, waiting for everyone else to show up. She was not ready to process it, and her mom did not care to try and help her with it all. She was alone in the kitchen, and grief was setting the table for her. 

Alfred was there too, though. So was Imogen, and so was Jim. She wasn’t totally alone, even if it felt oppressively like she was more often than not. June’s shoulders shook with how she tried to hold in the sudden swell of emotions, but Alfred pressed a gentle hand to her shoulder. [color=d6d6d6]"It is not a betrayal of yourself to reveal to others how you are feeling, you do not have to hold it all in for my sake."[/color] 

It was funny to think about how a few months ago, she was juggling college deadlines and trying to come up with art pieces for her portfolio. Now, June was becoming overwhelmed by trying to process the disappearance of her father and brother, the two people she’d been closest to. She had been [i]normal,[/i] just another college kid trying to make it in the big wide world, she’d set down her family mantle and tried her best to outrun the demons that being Batman’s daughter could dredge up. It had all been for nothing.

She let the tears fall, because Juniper knew there would come a time where she had no more tears left to cry. She didn’t want to harden herself to escape it all, but it would happen naturally in the same way it had happened for her father. They were very alike, afterall, even if she’d never wanted to admit it. Alfred’s arms were warm as they wrapped her up, and she hugged him back, pretending, for just a second, that it was her dad holding her one last time. [color=d6d6d6]"I know the grief you’re feeling is heavy, Ms Wayne, but please. Don’t give up hope, we will find them."[/color]

They stayed like that for some time until Alfred pulled back as her sobs subsided, and June swiped at her face, forcing her emotions back down into that little ball in her chest until her tears were nothing but shining tracks down her face. She hadn’t given up on the idea of finding them alive, even if it was becoming more and more daunting everyday. June, late at night when it was just her and the quiet darkness, liked to imagine a world in which her and Thomas’s roles were reversed. Where he’d chased his dreams, and she’d followed her fathers shadow. There she was the one who vanished, and he was left to pick up the pieces. Lately, she often felt as if she were at a crossroad; the violent and insane urge to survive no matter what at war with the exhausted edge of indifference that clung to her throat like a knife. 

[color=375a87]"I don’t think I can do this, Alfred. I’m not as strong as dad or Thomas, I—"[/color]

[color=d6d6d6]"You have your fathers will, you are just scared of embracing it. Trust me, Juniper. You will find it in due time."[/color] 

She had no reason not to believe him, Alfred had changed her diapers, he’d been a constant in her life since the day she was born. If anyone knew about her will, about what she could accomplish when she set her mind to it, it was him. There was the slightest hint of doubt within herself still, she was too tired to believe him fully, but Alfred had planted to seed. Sometimes, that was all it took. Her eyes slid down to her stitched up arm, and June was…relieved for the stitches. It felt like a physical manifestation of her feelings, and that despite them, she could be put back together again. 

[color=375a87]"Thank you, Alfred."[/color]

[color=d6d6d6]"Always, Ms Wayne."[/color] 

He moved away to wash his hands, and June pulled out her phone, taking her moment of brevity to text Jim and invite him to the pool. It was an olive branch, of sorts, after the argument he’d had with Imogen and then earlier in the lobby. June didn’t care about any of it, she just wanted to spend time with her best friend, to forget everything else even if it was only for an hour. 


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