"I had a way then
Losing it all on my own.
I had a heart then
But the queen has been overthrown.
And I'm not sleeping now—
The dark is too hard to beat.
And I'm not keeping up
The strength I need to push me."

"Lights" –Ellie Goulding


Chapter One:

A few years later…

The Marine Corps didn't turn baby-faced recruits into bloodthirsty killers. It taught them how to be miserable. Marines took pride in having the coldest rations, the toughest sonsofbitches for commanders, and the oldest, shittiest equipment. They were better at being miserable than any soldier or swabbie or jet jockey.

That's why Margaret Vallant—usually called "Margot"—was just fine with feeling utterly miserable that cold, gray morning as she stood in the drizzling rain and rang the doorbell.

She heard footsteps echoing through the large door and saw a figure approach through the glass. Then the door swung inward, and Margot found herself staring into two piercing blue eyes.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

She didn't speak for a moment. The house had done enough to intimidate her already. Wayne Manor was almost mythic in its reputation, at least to people that lived in the inner city slums. People like Margot. It didn't disappoint.

The man in front of her was a lot like the manor, she thought. Stony, impassive, crisp. He even wore his pressed suit like a uniform. If she didn't know any better, she'd say he was a soldier, or had been at one point.

"Miss?"

"Yes," said Margot, starting out of her thoughts. "My name is Margot Vallant. I called earlier about the open position."

Those eyes narrowed a bit, as if scanning through invisible mental files, before sparking with recognition. "Right, Miss Vallant. Do come in. May I take your coat?"

"Thanks," she murmured, letting the man help her slip out of her coat.

"Right this way, Miss."

She followed the man, and soon she was in what seemed to be a study of sorts.

"If you'll wait here, I'll fetch the gardener, Mr. Harrison. Mr. and Mrs. Wayne are out, but I'm the butler, Alfred Pennyworth. I manage the household, and therefore, new hires," he explained.

"Of course."

The man nodded crisply. "I'll just be a moment."

Margot waited in silent curiosity, looking around the room lined with bookcases and scattered with deep, plush chairs. She tentatively touched the massive desk in front of her. It was real mahogany and nearly the size of her bed at home. While standing at one side of the desk, it was almost impossible to reach the other edge without leaning over it. Granted, Margot wasn't very tall, and her reach wasn't very long.

Alfred soon returned with a man Margot assumed was Mr. Harrison, the gardener.

He looked like a gardener, dressed in loose, worn denim trousers and a flannel shirt. His wet hair was plastered to his head and his boots were muddy. Margot could swear she saw Alfred notice the mud and grimace.

"Ah, Miss Vallant," said Mr. Harrison with a scruffy smile and a warm handshake. "I believe we spoke over the phone."

She nodded. "That's right."

Mr. Harrison indicated a nearby chair with his arm. "Please, sit."

Margot sat, watching as Mr. Harrison took a seat across from her. Alfred, she noticed, remained standing, his feet slightly separated, hands clasped behind his back.

A voice in Margot's head called: Parade rest!

She had to hide a smile as Mr. Harrison continued to speak.

"So you're Dr. Prentice's student. He speaks very highly of you."

Margot inclined her head. "Thank you, sir. What I lack in talent, I make up for with hard work."

"I trust you brought your résumé and a list of references?"

She reached into her bag and handed the papers to the gardener, who quietly looked them over for a moment before handing them over to Alfred, who scanned them much more thoroughly.

"Need the job for school then?" asked Mr. Harrison curiously.

He was a friendly man. Margot hardly felt as if she were in an interview. In fact, if it were for Mr. Harrison, she suspected she'd have the job immediately. Alfred, on the other hand, seemed much more reluctant, frowning slightly as he looked over her résumé.

"No," she responded to Mr. Harrison's question, trying not to let the butler's stony frown intimidate her. "The GI bill has that covered."

Before Mr. Harrison could reply, Alfred inquired, "In the service then, were you?"

Margot nodded, pointing at the papers in his hand. "It's all in there. Marines. I was a—"

"Sergeant," he interrupted quietly. "Yes, I see that."

"I was a sniper with the Thundering Third—Darkside." She wasn't sure why she was mentioning details. Perhaps she was trying to impress the man. He probably didn't even know or care what she was talking about.

"Any time overseas?" he inquired, not meeting her gaze, but looking instead at the résumé, as if he expected it to answer him.

"Baghdad. Operation Iraqi Freedom."

The man sighed and finally glanced up at her. "You do realize, Miss Vallant, that the position is for gardener's assistant, not sniper."

She sucked on her teeth for a moment before forcing a soft laugh. "Mr. Pennyworth, I was a soldier. Now I'm an undergraduate in landscape management. I'm good with plants. I like them because they don't talk back."

The man's brow rose slightly, but he said nothing more.

Mr. Harrison, on the other hand, laughed nervously. "Well, my dear, your references are impressive. As you know, Dr. Prentice is good friends with Mrs. Wayne, and I see here that the department head has also recommended you."

Margot nodded once. "Yes. Like I said, I work hard."

Mr. Harrison held out his hand to Alfred, who passed the papers back to him. "One thing, though, Miss Vallant. It says here that you can only work Thursday through Sunday evenings."

"I have classes Monday through Thursday morning. "

"I see. Well, before we work things out, why don't you take a walk around the grounds with me? Tell me what you think."

"Very well," agreed Margot, rising.

She hoped that Alfred would find something else to do, but he followed behind. Apparently he took his role as head of staff quite seriously. Like a soldier, she thought again.

He reminded her of her drill instructor in boot camp, though years had passed and most of it was a blur. Drill Sergeant Griffin. She had been short, shorter than Margot, with fiery red hair and a voice that could curdle milk. Recruits never saw their drill sergeants eat or sleep or take care of any basic human needs. They were like machines.

She'd only known Alfred for ten minutes at the most, but she already wondered if he wasn't secretly part machine.

They paused in the entryway long enough to each don their coats: Mr. Harrison with his bright yellow slicker, Alfred with a dark and well-fitted trench coat, and of course Margot with her damp raincoat.

It was still raining, but with less vigor than before. The grounds were expansive. Margot was used to walking, but she felt a little self-conscious as they made their way outside. Her limp was faint but impossible to hide. She'd never quite regained all of the motion in her leg, still unable to bend her knee fully due to the extent of her injuries from the bombing.

Mr. Harrison was polite enough not to ask, pretending to not even notice, but Margot could feel Alfred's eyes practically burning a hole in her leg.

"Most of the grounds are wild," explained Mr. Harrison. "We sometimes remove dead trees and do a bit of growth management, but we usually focus most of our time on the gardens around the mansion. You can see why that would be plenty of work on its own."

Margot nodded, admiring the grounds. The gardens were well-kept, even in the unpleasant drizzle of early March. The hedges were neatly trimmed, the flowerbeds well fertilized and filled with blue and purple asters, pink colchicum, and orange-red helenium. Goldenrod and Russian sage bushes blossomed vigorously. There was even a good-sized herb and vegetable garden behind the kitchen.

She had to admit, she was impressed.

"You've been taking care of all this yourself?" she asked Mr. Harrison.

"That I have," he replied with a smile. "But it's getting to be a bit much, and we've had to bring in temporary help a lot lately. Thought we might as well have a permanent hire." He paused and pointed towards an empty patch of lawn. "You know," he commented, "the Waynes were considering putting in a fountain there to fill the space. What do you think?"

After the shock of even being asked for her opinion wore off, Margot frowned thoughtfully and stared at the lawn. "Well, it would look pretty from the house, I suppose, but isn't this visible from the approaching road? It wouldn't be so picturesque from that vantage point. Perhaps some trees along the outside edge to add cover so it doesn't seem so stark."

Mr. Harrison raised a brow and smiled, obviously impressed.

Alfred simply stood stiffly, rocking slightly back and forth on his feet. Another soldier trick, Margot noticed.

They continued the tour of the grounds, stopping on the east side of the manor, where a huge vine of wisteria climbed its way up the side of the house. Beautiful purple blossoms hung from it, but on a closer look, Margot saw that there was something wrong with the plant.

She was about to bring it up to Mr. Harrison when a child's shriek drew her attention away. She whirled around, only to almost collide with a slender, dark-haired boy as he came careening around the corner.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed distractedly.

"Oi! Master Bruce!" Alfred barked. "Watch yourself now!"

Young Master Bruce didn't stop moving as he apologized in a breathless shout, "Sorry Alfred! Mr. Harrison! Ma'am!" And then he was gone, his pleasant laughter fading into the distance.

"Whatever is the matter with him?" inquired Mr. Harrison curiously.

Alfred lifted his shoulders in a stiff shrug, but to Margot's amazement, she caught the faintest hint of a smile on the man's face. It seemed even the mechanical butler wasn't impervious to everything.

"So, Miss Vallant," said Mr. Harrison, turning to her. "What do you think of the wisteria?"

She clasped her hands behind her back, regarding the plant solemnly. "Well, I was about to say that it seems to have cankers, sir. I don't think they've reached the crown, so you might be able to rescue the plant with some heavy pruning and cutting."

Mr. Harrison smiled and exchanged a glance with Alfred, who remained as stony as ever, all traces of his smile gone.

"Right then," the butler said. "Thank you for your time, Miss Vallant. We have your contact information."

"We'll be in touch," Mr. Harrison interjected.

"Shall I show you to your car? Call you a taxi?"

"No, thank you," Margot replied. "I'll walk."


She was watering the philodendron hanging from her apartment window when she received the call.

"Hello?"

"Miss Vallant?" Mr. Harrison's cheerful voice echoed over the phone.

"Yes?"

"This is Mr. Harrison from Wayne Manor. I'm pleased to inform you that you've been hired. There are a few details and some paperwork to get in order, so can you be here early tomorrow? Say seven o'clock?"

"Of course," she replied, unable to keep from smiling. A position at Wayne Manor, even as a simple gardener's assistant, would look incredibly good on her résumé when she applied for a future career.

"Now before I forget, there is an option to board here, if you like, unless of course you prefer to remain at your current residence."

Margot glanced over her shoulder at the woman in the next room. She was dozing in an armchair. "Current residence, if that's all right," Margot replied quietly.

"Very well. I'll see you tomorrow then."

Margot ended the call, stood thoughtfully in the window for a few moments, and then finished watering her philodendron with a smile.


A/N: I kind of like playing with Alfred's tough side, even though we all know he's a big softie deep down…