He had buried her here. Beside the well. It was a selfish thing to do, he knew that, but he could only afford a few selfish doings in his life and this would be one of them. He wanted her to be near him, if in only death. Despite the fact that the body had barely been recognizable he had laid her to rest in a coffin, he could not rid of the rest of her body, another selfish doing.
His person stood beneath the tree that had decided to become overgrown in the process of rebuilding his family home. The sun's rays would rarely shed light in Gotham City any longer, the clouds casted a grave shadow on the city. Night steadily approached and he would no longer be able to stand under the tree, beside the well, in hope to feel closer to her. She was gone, but he was not. Before turning to leave he bent down and placed a single small rose besides the stone that bore her name. He turned and went back towards the construction area. The clean up was finally over with, and nothing had resulted in it. Family heirlooms, precious photographs, or documents had survived very far and few in between. He had placed these items in his penthouse in the city in a fireproof safe, hoping that that the precautions would not be necessary.
Builders scrambled around, hoping to look busy for the man that had employed them to do work, and hoping not to be discovered lying around and being lazy, as he knew they most often were. He watched as they began to build the foundations of the new Wayne Manor, taking into careful consideration that it was just the beginning of the new house that he would probably barely live in. Spending time in the city made him realize that he was closer to the action and the crime; he was able to go quickly to the places that his presence was needed at. Besides he did not have to wake up for Wayne Enterprises as early has he had to in the past.
The city had not rested since the coming of the Joker. He and his minions were flawless at times, but Batman would not let his city be taken down by a bunch of manic depressives. There was another rumor of a man with two faces running about and he was, in some way, connected to the Joker. The papers reported the duo daily and there was another mention of a name that could not be taken out of consideration.
"Master Wayne." A call made the man overlooking his grounds, turn and spot a man well over sixty approached him, the one of few men that he would call a friend. "You forgot to look at the paper today, sir. They made considerable mention of your vast company and the other business endeavor you have taken interest in."
The man took the paper that was being offered but he did not bother to look at it and held it to his side.
"Tell me this, Alfred." He spoke. "Why is it when you have multiple lives, only one could be performing the way you want it and the other failing miserably."
"Balance, Master Wayne." Alfred nodded. "Balance."
--
"Bruce, come on!" It was Rachel, God she looked gorgeous, as she always had in life! "This is not the time to be playing games!"
"Games?" He was confused. Looking around his surroundings, he noticed they were in the kitchen that was once in Wayne Manor and there wasn't anything around that would be considered a game board or cards or anything of that nature. "But I'm not playing any games…"
"You have to stop fooling around." She rolled her eyes. "Those models aren't going to do it for you, the rest of your life."
"Rachel," Bruce looked at her. "I never wanted the models, you know that."
"It's not just the models Bruce." Rachel sighed. "It's everything. When are you going to realize that this whole thing isn't just about you?"
"Mister Wayne!" A loud voice cut through his dream, forcing him to suddenly awaken. He opened his eyes to see Lucius Fox. "Glad to see you were only half sleeping through this meeting."
"Did I miss anything important?" Bruce sat back further in his chair, smirking at the older man.
"Only that everything is running quite smoothly, except for two very big business deals that are running… not so smoothly." Fox looked at him.
"Ah," He nodded. "And what very big business deals are those?"
"Your museums department first off."
"Museums department?" His interest was quirked. "We have a Museums Department?"
"Specifically the archeological division," He placed a folder of papers in front of Bruce, which the younger man looked through rather quickly. "They have a need to go dig through the desserts of Egypt, they think they may have found a tomb."
"A tomb?" Bruce cocked his head when he turned to face Fox again.
"This division supplies much of our city's history museum, not mention a few of the United States museums."
"What do they want?"
"A million."
"A Million, for a place a dead guy is buried?" Bruce nodded. "They need a fundraiser then; they could be able to make other connections besides Wayne Enterprises."
"Never been one for a trip to the museum, sir?" Fox joked, as his boss stood.
"Museums were never really my thing. What is the other one?"
"Mr.Cobblepot's company isn't regulating their waste to the water."
"Mr. Cobblepot?"
"Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot." Fox went into further explanation. "He runs a nightclub in the city."
"I'm sure a threat of a lawsuit of three million dollars would solve that." His lips turned upwards. "What do you have to show me today, Mister Fox?"
--
Bruce took a sip of his water to sooth his dry throat from the workout he had just endured. It always felt good after a day's work of sorting through the tedious things that only mattered to a select few who worked in the office. Looking out his window, he knew that the only way to contact Batman now was through Gordon. The bat light that once shone brightly in the sky was now a frightening sign to both good and evil.
The public's view of batman was mixed. The ones that supported the masked man said so only in private, the ones that disagreed with him were loud and outspoken. The news of Dent's death and the death of the other men had spread around and the media was quick to pick up a good story. Batman's image faired only through the few that whispered his name in praise. Those people were the reason that Batman lived on and prowled the streets. In time, perhaps they would forgive, but people were difficult to decipher sometimes.
Bruce glanced at the television, which had been turned on for pure noise while he beat the punching bag or ran till his heart content.
"In other news," The castor's smile widened, he could tell it was going to disappoint. "Wayne Enterprises will be coordinating a fundraiser to support the museums in the area…"
"Ah yes." Alfred walked in, turning to face the screen. "The upcoming Wayne event. I suppose we are going to support the arts in your humble abode."
"I decided it would be better if the event was supported elsewhere." Bruce commented.
"And where would that be, Master Bruce?" The man asked with a curiosity that only a man less interested would ask.
"In the History museum."
"What a bold choice, sir." His sarcastic reply, made Bruce have none. "I am guessing you will need dates for this event."
"Dates, Alfred?" He said in an amused tone.
"Well we wouldn't want to destroy your playboy billionaire image with just one girl would we?"
"I guess not." You have to stop fooling around, the dream came swiftly through his head. "Alfred, how long do I have to keep this image up?" The question was one that was going through his head so many times over lately that he had to ask it aloud, even if no one responded.
"Sir, I do not think that I am the person to answer that correctly." He looked at the man that had saved countless lives, but seemed unable to save his own. "But sir, remember that you are just a man, a man that has grieved for many people. This cover, if you will, serves only to protect those close to you. However, I see nothing wrong with letting someone in as Bruce Wayne."
"I don't know if I can do that anymore." The remark was more towards himself than to his closest advisor and friend.
"Breaking news!" A report popped on the television. "The Joker seems to be on the loose again, with a robbery at the Jewelers of Harry Winston he and his cronies were last…"
Bruce heard a vibration from his mobile on the other side of the room. He quickly answered it without saying a word.
"They are still on the spot, no one wants to proceed." It was Gordon on the other line. "Come as quickly as possible. We're on the corner of Haynes and 56th. Hurry." The line went dead.
"Sir, would you like me to have your dinner ready, when you return?" Alfred questioned as he quickly followed the younger man towards his lair.
"That won't be necessary, Alfred." With that he disappeared between the panels of wall to transform himself into a hated and loved symbol.
--
Hello Everyone!
I have been gone a long time from the realm of Fanfiction. I had this story cooking in my head for a while now and just decided to put in on paper. This is obviously my first Batman fanfic, so please let me know how you like it. Thank you!
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