A Princeton education certainly was something which Bruce Wayne had thought he was cut out for. Apparently the feeling was not mutual or reciprocated. And now Bruce didn't know what he was going to do.

A smirk tugged up at his lips in disbelief as his head moved back and forth and he pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a certain building up of tension move into his mind as his back tensed, his spine bolting up straight at the mere thought of what was going to happen later on in the day.

She would never forgive him. She would never be able to forgive him for what he was about to do but he hoped that she would understand. She hoped she would have it in her to understand. Understanding was all that he needed. He could live with her hating him. He had hated himself for a few years after the unfortunate incident on that cold evening.

"Master Wayne."

Bruce turned his head to the side, looking onto the man who was moving towards him with smile on his kind face. He hadn't changed much in the time which had passed between Bruce leaving and returning. But then again, he looked the same when Bruce was eight.

"Alfred," he nodded back to the butler, passing him his large duffel bag which he took from him, slinging it into his other hand as he held one hand out for Bruce to shake. Bruce took it gently, his eyes moving upwards as he did so. It hadn't changed. Wayne Manor never changed. Bruce hated the place. He hated the memories which he now had in it for he knew they could never be reinvented. It was like the Manor was a representation of time standing still. If he had his own way then he would tear it down completely. But he didn't intend to stay long. He never did.

"How are things in Princeton, sir?" Alfred wondered aloud, moving up the steps to the Manor and Bruce reluctantly followed, trying to keep his eyes from moving around the large hall as they reached the steps and Bruce nodded, his hands burying themselves into his pockets.

"Fine," he assured Alfred with a nod. "I like it there. They just don't feel the same."

Alfred remained silent, not having a reply to that as he pursed his lips together tightly. His thoughts were not needed on the matter.

"I have the master bedroom set up for you," he simply responded and Bruce shook his head, trying to keep his face composed as he thought about that room. He didn't want it.

"I'll have my room, Alfred," he said stubbornly.

"With all due respect, Master Wayne, the Manor is all yours," Alfred informed Bruce. Yes, he had turned twenty one and he realised that meant he had control of the Manor. He had control of Wayne Enterprises and he guessed he had care over her.

"I don't want the room, Alfred," Bruce snapped and the butler remained still on the stairs, looking down one step and glaring at Bruce as he did so. "I don't want the Manor. It is like a mausoleum and if I had my way I would tear it down."

"This Manor has been in your family for generations," Alfred snapped back at Bruce, trying to keep his cool as Bruce noted his cheeks flush red. "Treat it with some respect and luckily you don't have your way. There are other people to think about. Not just you, Master Wayne."

"Why do you give a damn Alfred?" Bruce snapped back at him, his eyes moving all over his face. "It isn't your family."

"It is as good as," Alfred said, standing tall and jutting his chin out. "Now do you intend to stay in Gotham long?"

"I'm just here for the trial," Bruce responded dryly, his throat hoarse as he moved behind Alfred up the stairs. Thankfully, the butler turned into his old room and set his bags onto the bed. Bruce looked around. It was almost like nothing had changed. Alfred had kept the Manor in ship shape condition as was to be expected by a man of his calibre. He had done a fine job.

"And what do you intend to do after that, sir?" Alfred enquired, noting a pillow wasn't fluffed up correctly and so he took it upon himself to rectify that situation. Bruce shrugged, perching himself on the edge of the bed and clasping his hands together, looking out the window and into the grounds of the Manor.

"Who knows?" he responded. "There will be something."

He didn't intend to leave Gotham. He was just there for the trial. After what he planned to do then he was sure there was no going back. But Alfred couldn't know of his plan. No one could know of it for he was one hundred per cent positive they would try and talk him out of it. But his mind was set in stone which was unable to change. He was stubborn.

"Miss Wayne should be back soon." Alfred placed the pillow back down onto the bed and went about messing with the curtains. "She hoped you were intending to stay in Gotham for longer than last time."

"How is she?" Bruce wondered, ignoring the butler's final comment and Alfred sighed, nodding once as he did so.

"Fresh out of school and knowing she has the entire summer ahead of her. I think she is doing well," Alfred nodded, simply thinking about the state in which he had picked her up in the other morning. Apparently when Alfred had been whispering he had been too loud. And then there was the simple matter of the contents of her stomach moving onto his Rolls carpet.

"What is she going to do?" Bruce asked out of courtesy and Alfred's lips once again pushed themselves into a firm line as he moved around the room, angling things correctly.

"Maybe you should ask her, Master Wayne?" he suggested.

"Hm," Bruce simply huffed and stood up again and moved into his bag, picking out things from it which needed washing and those which were clean.

"Regardless of what you think, Master Wayne," Alfred called out as he moved over to the door, "she doesn't detest you for what happened to your parents. She knows it wasn't your fault."

"I know," Bruce simply responded. He knew it wasn't his fault. He knew whose fault it was and revenge would be taken.

…

The unemployment rate in Gotham was high. Everyone knew people were looking for work but the issue was the majority of them weren't suitable. But she had managed to find a Summer Job. She had thought about going the majority of June, July, August and September just sitting in the Manor and she decided against it. And besides, Alfred was always saying a job would teach her some independence if she managed to get the grades to move across the pond.

She drove the small Beetle across Gotham, making sure she focused on the roads so that she didn't have an incident like last time. Apparently two seconds to break isn't enough to stop you from hitting the back of another car.

And then the Manor came into sights. It was located on the edge of Gotham in its own little world which was nice sometimes. It was like hiding and the grounds were vast which she had loved when she was small. But there were sometimes when it seemed too big. It was too vast for just her and Alfred. But Bruce refused to move back.

The stones under her tyres crunched as she slowed the car down, parking it to the side of the Manor where she usually hid it out of sight. She grabbed onto her small, black purse and picked it up from the passenger side of the car, opening the door as she did so.

"Miss Wayne," Alfred called out. He was moving down the side of the brick building, two large, black bin bags by his side as he tossed them into the trash can and she smiled at him, moving the sunglasses from her eyes and placing them on top of her head. "How was work today?"

"The usual," she responded, waiting for Alfred before the pair of them began to move back to the Manor. "I did manage to tip water onto someone's lap after another waiter bumped into me. Luckily I salvaged their chicken carbonara."

Alfred smirked once as she grinned to the floor.

"Nothing new happened then?" he taunted her and she hit him once across the arm.

"Has Bruce returned yet?"

"Master Wayne is inside. He's in the study I believe," Alfred said to her and she closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and nodding.

"How is he?" she enquired.

"Amiable," Alfred responded quickly. "I think he is worried over the trial."

"Aren't we all?" she muttered and left Alfred to go off in the direction of the study.

Bruce picked up a book which had been left on the dining table and he flicked through it quickly before the door opened. He was just about to assure Alfred that no, he didn't want a drink but it wasn't the butler.

He watched as she moved into the room, her arms folded as she closed the door and he took in her appearance. The baby fat on her face was still there, making her look younger than the age of eighteen. She had put on a bit of weight though but she wasn't overweight by any means. Her hair had grown down to her back as it sat in its ponytail and her eyes were large blue orbs.

And then he noted the outfit.

"What are you?" he tormented her gently. "A maid?"

"A waitress, actually," she responded, a grin moving onto her lips as she remained the other side of the room to Bruce. "How is Princeton?"

"It was good," he nodded and she cocked a brow as he went back to scanning the bookshelf.

"Was?"

"They didn't take to my charming personality," Bruce said, his voice low and his sense of humour dry.

"Obviously not," she mumbled in agreement. "So how long are you here for?"

"Not long," he responded quickly. "I take it you will be getting out of Gotham soon?"

"October," she replied hastily and Bruce nodded, looking back at her as he sat down on the sofa and she finally settled on the small leather chair next to the coffee table. The room was alight with the sun streaming in through the large windows. The bookshelves lined the walls and the desk sat tall at one end of the room, a piano not far from it.

"And where are you going?" Bruce asked. God, it felt like an interview.

"Cambridge, hopefully, anyway," she explained to Bruce who wrinkled his nose slightly.

"Cambridge?"

"In England," she nodded to confirm it.

"Right," Bruce said, not seeming shocked or showing any emotion. "Long way to go isn't it, squirt?"

"Just as long as going to the other side of the States is," she shrugged once. "I can still come back during holidays. What do you intend to do then?"

"I don't know," Bruce admitted. "I'm here for the trial."

"Of course you are," she responded with a roll of her eyes and he narrowed his own at her.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he hissed and she stood up once, tapping the arms of the chair as she pushed herself from it.

"Well why else would you be here?" she wondered sarcastically. "It isn't like your family is here, is it?"

"Vicky," Bruce complained, leaning back and crossing his legs, still watching her as she balled her hands into fists. "You have Alfred."

"You don't get it, Bruce," she said, her voice tone coming out angry but she didn't move up an octave. "You just seriously don't get it."

She moved over to the door, slamming it shut and leaving Bruce to wonder what had happened to their relationship.

…..

A/N: So I was doing another story about Bruce and Vicky but I decided to do a back-story and change the other story slightly to follow this after I've done the explaining part. So please review!