Two light knocks reverberated through the halls of Wayne Manor, making their way into the library where the graying butler was dusting the shelves. He sat down his dust-covered rag and made his way through the mansion to the front door.
"Yes, may I help you?" he butler answered the door with a smile.
"Hi, um, my car broke down and this was the nearest home. May I use your phone?" A petite, red-haired woman stood before him, fidgeting with her hem of her shirtsleeve.
"Pardon me if I sound rude, but don't you have a cell phone?" he inquired.
"Uh, it died."
"Ah," he responded with a raised eyebrow. "That's very convenient for you, Miss Anderson."
"Excuse me?" the young woman gasped, fear flooding her features as she realized he had seen through her disguise.
"Miss Anderson, this is your third attempt to enter the Wayne Manor in hopes of interviewing Mr. Wayne, and you're not fooling anyone with that wig. I'm sorry, miss, but Master Wayne isn't taking part in any interviews at this time. Good day."
"I'm ruined!" The chief editor of Gotham Times cried out, tugging on his hair and slamming his head on to his desk. All he needed was a statement from Bruce Wayne, the billionaire playboy who had returned from the dead, and not even his best journalist could acquire it.
A knock sounded on his door, a groan escaped his lips, "Go away!"
There was a moment of silence before a file folder was dropped on his desk. Lazily, he moved his head to stare at the folder. He picked it up, scanning the contents, before looking up at the owner. A tall, strong-looking, brunette woman with bright blue eyes stood before him.
"I understand you are in need of an interview with Mr. Wayne." She spoke up, not waiting for him to address her.
"Indeed I am. Who are you? And what makes you think you are capable of getting this interview?" He opened the file folder, once more, and took notice of the impressive resumé.
"My name is Jennifer Young and I am a journalist from New York. As you can see, I've worked for a multitude of magazines and newspapers throughout the country, some highly regarded and recognizable, others more localized. Mr. Jones," the woman glanced down at the nameplate on his desk, "I am more than capable of obtaining an interview and producing a front-page worthy article on Mr. Wayne. I must ask, though, can you afford me?"
Mr. Jones squinted his eyes and sat back in his chair, surveying the woman, "Miss Young, you won't receive a payment until after you have submitted an article. I won't know how much you, or the article, are worth until I've read this 'front-page worthy' article."
"I will submit a starter article, in order for you to become more familiar with my work, by the end of the week. You should know that I will be expecting a minimum of two-hundred dollars for this article." She nodded at the man and made her way to the door.
"You're very confident, Miss Young. I hope you handle disappointment well," he smirked, taking a gander at her backside.
She turned back, "I don't take no for an answer."
An incessant pounding on the front door brought Bruce Wayne from a quiet slumber and back to reality. Sunlight flooded the room through the light white curtains, revealing how late in the day he'd slept in. His new nightly activities were interfering with any sleep schedule he could consider. Sitting up in his bed, he could hear Alfred going to the front door, the muffled sound of him answering and speaking with someone. The front door shut a few moments later, but this time Bruce could here a second set of footsteps.
"High heels," he muttered to himself, his mind immediately going to Rachel. He hadn't been back in Gotham long, and the people knew he was back for even less time. The thought of seeing Rachel again brought a smile to his face and a nervous feeling settling in his stomach. He put on his robe and left his room in a hurry. Following the sound of Alfred's voice, he made his way through the house and ended up in the kitchen. Bruce stayed in the adjacent room, unseen, and listened in on the conversation.
"I've worked for the Wayne family for many years, since before Master Bruce was born." Alfred's voice was full of pride and sadness, "When the boy's parents were killed, I became his guardian, raising as I believed his parents would've wanted."
"That's very kind of you. Did you feel that it was demanded of you, or was it something you wanted to do?" A woman's voice, not Rachel's, questioned Alfred.
Bruce scrunched his eyebrows together as his mind processed what was happening in the next room. Was Alfred being interviewed?
"Miss Wise," Alfred began.
"Chloe," the woman interrupted.
Alfred let out a breathy laugh, "Miss Chloe, Master Wayne is like a son to me. I care very deeply for him. It wasn't demanded of me, it was something I knew I needed to do. It was my duty, and I was willing to do it."
"Was there ever a time you regretted your decision? I mean… you must have a family outside of Mr. Wayne. Did you ever wish to leave Gotham and go to them?"
Bruce's breathing hitched. Did he really want to hear Alfred's answer?
"Mr. Pennyworth, I'm sorry to interrupt you again, but I don't believe we are alone."
Bruce stood up straighter; he had almost forgotten what it felt like to get caught. Pushing aside his childish feelings, he entered the kitchen.
"Ah, good morning, Master Wayne," Alfred greeted him with a warm smile.
"Morning, Alfred. Who's your friend?"
"Master Wayne, this is Miss Chloe Wise, she's a new journalist for the Gotham Times. She's here interviewing me."
"Is that so?" Bruce nodded, surveying the woman, taking note of the way she held herself and her perfect posture.
"Mister Wayne, it's a pleasure to meet you. Please, call me Chloe," the young woman extended a slender, toned arm toward him and took his hand in a firm grasp.
"Well, Chloe," he smirked and turned his hand over to kiss the back of her's, staring into her bright blue eyes, "the pleasure is all mine."
Rather than the usual giggle and batting of eyes he received, Chloe smiled and quickly returned her attention to Alfred, brushing a strand of her long blonde hair from her face.
"Well, I do believe I've wasted enough of your time this morning. I'd love to meet with you again to continue our interview, if it wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience."
Alfred helped the woman pack her belongings back into her satchel, "It's been an absolute joy chatting with you, my dear. I do look forward to speaking with you again."
"Here, Alfred, I'll show her to the door," Bruce smiled, putting a hand on the small of her back.
"Oh," she jumped at the touch. "Well, thank you."
Bruce led her out to the foyer, opening the door for her.
Chloe smirked at him and put a hand on his shoulder, leaning toward him. "It's so nice to meet a fellow member of the League of Shadows," she whispered.
Bruce stiffened, a slight panicked feeling going through him. "I- I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"You and I have much in common. I'll see you soon," she winked and walked out the door, leaving him frozen with shock.