He missed her. Missed Rachel. She really had loved him. She would have left Dent for him. He slicked down the champagne.

"Mister Wayne."

"Yes Alfred?"

"Ah, pardon me sir, I don't mean to intrude on your personal life, but don't you think you should keep the playboy party boy sir? I rather liked it when he was around."

"Later, Alfred." He didn't feel like talking. She'd been one of the only reasons he'd survived for so long. That and his father. But his father wasn't there. And now she was gone. He didn't like this, not one little bit. And having Batman take all the rap for all Harvey Dent had done. Yes, Gordon told him he was a hero, but he didn't feel like one. He felt like an outcast. Something of taboo. Very much like the bats. He stayed in the cave more often now. Struggling to quiet his mind. To focus on the task at hand. To apply the skills he'd learned in League of Shadows. But there's something in a man that just gets lonely. The Italian girls he hired were good company, and did more than they were paid to, only to accompany him. But he didn't really like the twins. It was just all a Bruce Wayne front. Being two people was proving difficult. He pressed the two piano keys, and the bookcase opened.

"Going into the cave again, sir?"

"I'll be back up for dinner, Alfred." Sometimes a straight up yes or no was more painful to the young aristocrat than a full up statement.

He stared out at the underground fortress. The tears slid down his cheeks. It had been almost a year now, and Gotham didn't need him anymore. He could accept that. That's what heroes did. What was so difficult to accept was the loss of Rachel. And he had this weird feeling that Alfred didn't tell him everything. He dimly remembered the piece of paper…he'd said something…and Alfred had taken it. Bruce hadn't seen it, after that, and there was no mention of it. It was all a little much for him. Rachel. He remembered how terrified she'd been of the Joker. That man was more mad dog than human. Bats don't like dogs. A sad smile twitched in his face.

Meantime Alfred polished the silver like he did every day before tea. He worried about Master Wayne. Last heir to the great estate. He'd thought that Master would have married the gardener's girl, but Fate had declared otherwise, and it just seemed as though poor Master Wayne, with all his money, and with his job as the city hero, couldn't just find a little happiness of his own. The doorbell rang, hesitant tones as though someone had paused before pushing the button. Alfred knew it well. He'd ran the house for almost fifty years. He knew its little quirks. Pity Master Wayne couldn't hear it from the Bat Cave. Alfred couldn't figure out why Master Wayne would seek solitude in such a dreadful place, but he was the butler. He wasn't supposed to ask questions. Alfred opened the door slowly. He hadn't noticed that it was pouring rain.

A shy face peered at him from an umbrella. She almost smiled. Her slicker was a little damp, and the car she had parked so delicately and so far from the lawn it was a little scary, looked banged up.

"Is Mr. Wayne in?" she asked, swallowing hard.

"Master Wayne is preoccupied at the moment, who calls for 'im, if I may ask?" Alfred smiled wryly at her. What was so scary about visiting Bruce Wayne?

"I-I-I guess that…I just I wanted a comment from him…." Oh gosh. I don't want to ask him why he left Oxford and never came back. I liked him. "I'm sorry..I'm Selena from Global, I just wanted to ask Mr. Wayne a few questions."

"Come in miss. It's pourin out, and likely you'll catch cold. Tea for y'?"

"Yes, please, thank you sir."

"Oh no matter, I'm just the old butler, Alfred. Master Wayne will be right up…right down, I mean."

Life, and his heart, had to go on…