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Chapter 2: The Billionaire and Tender Loving Care


WARNING!! HERE BE SPOILERS!

Bruce Wayne did not like getting up from sleeping. But every afternoon, at precisely three o'clock, his trusty butler Alfred would come in with a special shake, a light breakfast, and a scolding for staying up so late he ended up sleeping the day away.

But that wasn't why he hated it.

No, the reason he hated it was because every morning when he got up, he suddenly remembered that it was another day in his world without the love of his life, Rachel Dawes, the woman he was tricked into not saving.

He hated that she was dead, he hated that he had not been able to save her, and he also hated the repercussions of it: the fact that Harvey Dent, the savior Gotham needed, had turned bad, killing five people, and causing Bruce's alter ego, Batman, to kill him, and take the fall for the dead cops.

His job was harder now. Now people feared him more than ever, and now Gotham's hope was slightly waning.

Sure, their White Knight had cleaned this city of most of its mobsters, but he was also dead, so who was going to be there to stop the new ones when they rise up?

Bruce sighed as he dropped to the floor and did his morning push-ups. Now, more than ever, his job was critical, and he didn't know what to expect from the coming future.

Once he was done with his push-ups he stood and drank the shake as his only friend left in the world sat down with a sigh in the chair by his bed.

"Well Master Wayne," said Alfred as he looked up at the man he practically raised. "I would say the party last night was a success, but then again I don't really believe you had a point to that party so I'll just leave that statement where it is."

"It was just a party for the rich of Gotham," Bruce answered as he sat back down on his bed and placed the tray of food over his lap.

"Yes, I suppose when one rich man asks another rich man why he hasn't had a party in a while, it is only natural for the second rich man to host one, as soon as possible."

"Woman," Bruce corrected, half joking. "It was a woman who asked the rich man."

Alfred nodded, slightly sarcastically. "Of course."

Bruce stood up and Alfred followed suit as he walked out of his bedroom and down the hall.

"Might I remind you sir that you have a meeting tomorrow morning that you will actually have to get up for, so I suggest you get some sleep instead of sitting down in the cave until the wee hours of the morning."

Bruce nodded and half-smiled without turning to look at his butler. "I'll try Alfred."

"I suppose your date last night was disappointed when you had to leave abruptly."

"It wasn't very abruptly. She asked me if I wanted to continue the evening upstairs and I told her I unfortunately had work to attend to."

"But she was still disappointed of course."

"Of course."

They finally came to a stop as Bruce opened to door to his study. When he had had Wayne Manor rebuilt, he would have loved to have found a better place to store the entrance to the cave, but there wasn't anyway that wouldn't have raised questions and suspicions.

As it was, the entrance was still in his study, only now the key to opening it was rigged to the latch on the window. Turning it while lifting it up in the opposite direction you would turn it to open it would open the secret door within his bookcase.

It had been a long a grueling process to figure out how that one would work, but eventually they had.

When the doors opened after their new and completely modern elevator ride, Bruce and Alfred both looked up to see a cave. Yes, they had kept the actual bat cave, just updating it for better equipment capabilities.

Alfred had asked him if he wanted to build actual walls up, but Bruce said no, he needed the bats there, not just because it was their home, but also because of his mentality as he did his job.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night Alfred?" Bruce asked jokingly.

"Of course Master Wayne. "Especially since, like you, I did the same thing I do at every party."

"And what exactly do I do Alfred?" he asked as he went over to look at his multiple computer screens.

"Oh, enter in with a beautiful model, making every woman in the room, young or old, swoon and look on jealously at the woman hanging off your arm. Then you make small talk with the men you hardly care about, and talking even more to the men you actually like."

"Do you always observe me so intimately Alfred?"

"I do when I'm concerned Master Wayne."

Bruce turned to look at him. "And why would you be concerned Alfred?"

Alfred looked down at the ground, not wanting to say what he was about to say, but knew it had to be said. "It has only been three months since she died Master Wayne," he said softly.

Bruce turned sharply to look to down the table.

Silence reined after he spoke the words. It was true: it hadn't been too long since she died.

"Don't you miss her too Alfred?"

"Of course Master Wayne," Alfred said softly. "We both cared for Rachel. I'm just worried about how you release your grief."

Bruce sighed and went back to looking at the monitors.

Alfred knew he was losing at the moment. "Just promise me you won't take you grief out at the wrong moment," he said to Bruce's back. They both knew what he meant.

Bruce looked over his left shoulder to the floor, without turning to look at Alfred, and said softly, "I won't."

Alfred nodded, hoping he would live up to it.


"I did notice you talking to a young woman last night though," Alfred added as they walked out of the cave.

"Adrienne Hellifort," Bruce supplied.

"Isaac Hellifort's daughter?" Alfred asked.

"Yes, incidentally the same Isaac Hellifort who's the cause of that damn meeting I have to get up for in the morning."

Alfred nodded. "How old is Miss Hellifort now?" he asked as he turned to look at Bruce.

Bruce pulled a face. "I wouldn't know. I'm the one who was gone for so many years only to come back and pull two identities. You tell me."

"Well, last I remember she had her twenty-first birthday about four years ago."

"Then you answered your own question. I'm not really going to worry about her, though," Bruce decided.

"Why then, sir?"

"She's just like every other rich girl in the country. She told me, trying to play it off as something good, that she had another engagement, and when I took a wild guess as to what that engagement was, she confirmed that she was going out drinking."

"That doesn't necessarily prove she's just like all the others."

"It was also in her act Alfred, in her manner. No, she's just like the rest of them." He then turned away from Alfred and went into his room to change.