Ch: 9 & 10 [Waking up]

[Wayne Manor]

Bruce opened his eyes, but this time, it wasn't the darkness of a spectral realm that greeted him. Instead, he found himself surrounded by the soft, warm light of a familiar room. It took a moment for his senses to fully return, but as they did, he became acutely aware of his body.

He could feel the sensation of lying on a comfortable bed, the softness of the sheets beneath him, and the warmth of sunlight streaming through the curtains. It was a sensation he hadn't experienced in what felt like an eternity.

As he slowly sat up, he realized he was no longer trapped in the spectral form that had plagued him for so long. His body felt real and tangible, and he could move freely.

Confusion and disorientation washed over him as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. It was like waking up from a deep and endless dream.

"Where... am I?" Bruce mumbled, his voice hoarse from disuse.

The room around him began to come into focus. He recognized the familiar decor of Wayne Manor. It was his room, his home. But something felt different, as if he had been away for a long time.

He tried to move his body, but it felt sluggish and heavy, as if he hadn't used it in ages. With great effort, he managed to swing his legs over the side of the bed and stand on shaky feet, but he immediately collapsed back onto the mattress, exhausted from the simple act.

"Shit! How long was I out?" He wondered as his eyes fell on the large mirror before his eyes. The last time he saw himself in the mirror was when he was only 8 years old... Now, he is 18... 10 years have passed since then.

He stared at his reflection, taking in the changes that had occurred during his unconsciousness. His body was taller but somewhat thinner than before, his muscles less defined. His facial features were also different, more mature, and refined. Yet, despite these differences, he could still recognize the boy he once was in his newfound appearance.

He tried to get up, but he had no energy left in his body after using it for the first time after 10 years.

"Mom... Dad... Alfred... Anyone..." He tried to call for help but his throat was parched and dry, making it difficult for him to speak.

'Fuck! I thought it was just a few days tops... But here, years have passed,' Bruce thought.

He lay there on the floor helplessly as exhaustion slowly claimed him, dragging him back into the cold embrace of darkness.

Bruce's consciousness slipped away once more as fatigue overtook him. It had been a long and bewildering journey, waking up from a coma after a decade of being trapped in a spectral state. He had so many questions, and the world around him had undoubtedly changed during his absence.

In his unconscious state, he dreamt of fleeting memories from his past, of his family, and of the events leading up to his fateful coma. But the dreams were fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle that refused to fit together.

Time passed slowly, and as he drifted in and out of consciousness, he could faintly hear voices around him. He couldn't make out the words, but the presence of others gave him a glimmer of hope that he was not alone.

Gradually, his strength began to return, well, at least enough to open his eyes.

Bruce's eyes slowly fluttered open, and as his vision cleared, he saw the familiar faces of his parents, Thomas and Martha Wayne, sitting by his bedside. Their expressions were a mix of relief and concern as they watched their son wake up after a decade-long coma.

"Mom... Dad..." He croaked, his voice still weak and raspy.

Martha's eyes welled up with tears as she leaned forward, gently cupping his cheek in her hand. "Oh, Bruce, you're awake," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.

Thomas reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We've been waiting for this moment for so long, son," he said, his voice filled with warmth.

Bruce managed a weak smile, overwhelmed by the emotions that washed over him. It felt like a dream to see his parents again after all these years.

Beside his parents, he noticed two lady doctors, both with relieved expressions. One of them checked his vital signs while the other took notes on a clipboard.

"You gave us quite a scare, Mr. Wayne," one of the doctors said with a smile. "But it's good to see you awake."

Bruce tried to sit up.

"Now, now, take it easy, Master Bruce," came a familiar and comforting voice. It was Alfred.

He listened to Alfred's advice and reclined back onto the bed, realizing just how weak he was. It was as though his body had forgotten how to function after a decade of disuse.

Alfred stepped closer to the bed, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and concern. "It's a miracle that you've awakened after all these years," he said softly. "We feared the worst, but you've proven to be as resilient as ever."

Bruce nodded weakly, his gaze shifting between Alfred and his parents. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so many gaps in his memory that needed to be filled.

"What happened? How long was I out?" He asked in a low voice.

Martha squeezed Bruce's hand gently, her expression filled with concern. "You were in a coma for ten years, sweetheart," she replied. "A burglar shot you in Crime Alley, almost killing you. We brought you home and called for the best doctors and specialists, but even they couldn't explain why you wouldn't wake up."

Bruce remembered everything clearly now. He could recall the terrifying encounter in Crime Alley vividly, and the pain of being shot. It was a wound that nearly cost him his life, and thanks to his bulletproof vest he survived, but the bullet that stuck his neck caused him to lose too much blood and knocked him unconscious...

He listened to his parents' explanation, his mind trying to process the fact that he had been in a coma for an entire decade. The memories of that fateful night in Crime Alley came flooding back, and he couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions—anger, frustration, and relief that he was still alive.

"What about Joe Chill and the Thorne?" he asked, glancing at his father's face.

[Flashback]

Thomas Wayne's face contorted with a mixture of rage and sadness as he stood in a dimly lit, underground chamber. The room was filled with the muffled sounds of distant screams and the acrid stench of desperation. In front of him, bound and bloodied, were Joe Chill and Rupert Thorne, the men responsible for the attack on his family a decade ago.

The flickering light from a single overhead bulb cast eerie shadows on their faces, accentuating the fear etched in their eyes.

"You thought you could take everything from me," Thomas growled, his voice low and filled with a cold intensity. "You thought you could end our lives and get away with it. But I'm still here."

Joe Chill and Rupert Thorne were barely recognizable, their faces swollen and bruised from the relentless beatings they had endured over the years. Thomas had taken matters into his own hands, using his power and influence as the Mayor of Gotham City to hunt them down. After capturing them, he kept them alive, but in a state so wretched that death would have been a mercy.

Chill and Thorne had begged for death countless times, but Thomas had denied them that release. He wanted to make them suffer for the pain they had inflicted on his family. He had become a ruthless and vengeful man, driven by a need for retribution.

"Just kill me you motherfucking Wayne bastard," Thorne screamed between painful coughs. "I can't take this shit anymore!"

Thomas grabbed Thorne's face in his hands, squeezing hard until the mobster's lips were bleeding, "No, you don't deserve such an easy way out," he snarled. "You will stay alive until I say otherwise, or else your suffering will be even greater."

Thorne struggled futilely against Thomas's grip, his eyes wide with terror.

"Here, take a good look at this," He took out a phone from his pocket and held it before Thorne's eyes, "What a nice family you have... Took five years to track them down... Your wife, daughter, and your son... What was his name again?" Thomas paused for a second before continuing, "Ah yes, Rupert Junior... Such lovely children you have..."

Thorne's face paled as he stared at the photos of his family.

"What if I put your kids in the same state as you put my son in? Or worse?" Thomas threatened, his voice laced with venom. "Imagine seeing your kids suffer the same fate as Bruce... Do you want that? Huh? Answer me!" He punched Thorne's jaw.

Thorne shook his head frantically, tears streaming down his bruised cheeks.

Thomas released his grip and turned to Joe Chill, "And you, Joe Chill... You should have died ten years ago, but because of some shitty luck, you survived... And I will make sure you keep suffering until I decide otherwise."

Joe Chill trembled uncontrollably, his body racked with fear and agony. He knew there was no escape from Thomas's wrath.

"Please... Please just let us go," Thorne pleaded, his voice barely audible through the blood pouring out of his mouth. "We'll do anything..."

Thomas sneered, "There's nothing you can offer me that I want." A flash of Bruce's face appeared in his mind, reminding Thomas why he had embarked on this path of vengeance in the first place. Bruce, who suffered unimaginable torment for years because of these two bastards.

Joe Chill and Rupert Thorne hung their heads in defeat, knowing that there was nothing they could do to escape their tormentor's grasp. They had made the mistake of crossing Thomas Wayne, and now they would pay the ultimate price for their actions.

"Pray to God for my son. Beg them to wake him up from his coma, and then I might just kill you quickly instead of torturing you to death," Thomas ordered before turning towards the door, leaving behind two broken men who were barely clinging to life.

Outside the torture room, Alfred was waiting for him.

"Transfer them to the Arkham Asylum and make sure they get the special treatment..." Thomas walked out of the building.

[End of Flashback] [Present Time]

"Don't worry about them," Thomas said with a warm smile. The years of trapped rage and sadness melted away as he gazed upon Bruce's face. "They won't ever bother us again. Now, all that matters is that you're awake and healthy."

"Mr. Wayne, I think it's enough talk for today. It's better to let him rest for now. His body needs time to adjust after 10 years of sleep," one of the doctors suggested.

Thomas and Martha reluctantly agreed, exchanging heartfelt words with Bruce.

"Alfred," Martha looked toward the old butler.

"Please do not worry, Mrs. Wayne. I will take good care of Master Bruce," Alfred reassured with a gentle smile.

"Thank you, Alfred," Martha returned his smile.

Bruce watched as his parents left the room, leaving him with the doctors and Alfred.

"Could you bring me some water," He said in a low voice.

Alfred nodded and quickly fetched a glass of water from a nearby table. He carefully helped Bruce sit up and handed him the glass. Bruce took a few sips, relishing the cool liquid as it quenched his thirst.

"Thank you, Alfred," he said, his voice still weak.

The butler nodded, his expression filled with genuine concern, "You're most welcome, Master Bruce. It's good to have you back with us."

Bruce couldn't help but smile faintly. Despite the years that had passed, Alfred's unwavering support and care remained a constant source of comfort.

The doctors continued to monitor Bruce's vital signs and provide him with a brief examination to ensure that he was stable. They assured him that, with time, his body would regain its strength and adapt to being active again after such a prolonged period of inactivity.

"Well, it's a rare occurrence to see someone adapting so fast after waking up from a coma after 10 long years. Everything looks normal... Humm... What a surprise, Mr. Bruce. We generally feed the patients waking up from a prolonged coma with tubes to prevent infection... But, you... You should be able to eat some real food soon enough..."

"That's good to know. But I am not feeling hungry now, maybe later. And doc, thank you for everything," Bruce said softly.

"You can thank me after your complete recovery. For now, try to take it easy," the lady doctor said with a sweet smile.

"Yeah... I will do that. I am in no hurry..."

After the examination, they left the room, leaving Bruce alone with Alfred.

"Alfred, there's so much I need to know," Bruce began, his thoughts swirling with questions about the world that had changed while he was in a coma.

"Of course, Master Bruce," Alfred replied, his tone reassuring. "I will do my best to fill you in on everything that has transpired during your absence."

As Bruce settled back onto the bed, he listened attentively to Alfred's account of the events that had unfolded in Gotham City and the world beyond over the past decade. It was a lot to take in, but he was ready to catch up and regain his place in a world that had moved on without him.

"I see. I am sorry for worrying you all for ten years. Hope you aren't mad at me, Alfred..." He said with a weak chuckle.

Alfred gave a warm smile, his eyes reflecting a mix of relief and genuine affection. "Not at all, Master Bruce," he replied softly. "We were worried, of course, but seeing you awake and well is the greatest joy we could ask for. Your well-being is all that matters."

Bruce nodded, feeling a profound sense of gratitude for Alfred's unwavering loyalty and support, "Thank you for being here all these years."

Alfred's smile widened, and he placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "It's been my honor and privilege, Master Bruce. Now, try to take some rest. I will be just outside the room. And don't worry, I will keep the door open, just in case you need any assistance."

Bruce settled back onto the bed, his mind racing with thoughts of the changes that had occurred during his decade-long absence. Alfred's account of the world's events painted a picture of a Gotham City that had seen both progress and challenges. He couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions as he processed the information.

As he lay there, his gaze wandered to his left hand, and he noticed something unusual. On his ring finger was a ring. It was a sleek, metallic band with an intricate design, and it pulsed with a faint blue light.

'So, it wasn't a dream, huh? The Lightning Ring,' He thought, examining the intricate ruins and symbols on the Ring.