Well, here it starts to get a little bit more... interesting. I know it seems short, but I usually keep 'em that way so I can proof better and therefore post faster. Just got back from seeing The Dark Knight for the third time and couldn't resist finishing this chapter. Enjoy!

-Part 4-

Taken


Breakfast had been good, and Bruce left no remnants of the bacon and eggs he had eaten on his plate. After draining his coffee and orange juice, he decided to look over the morning paper, but as soon as he saw the headline, "Where Is Batman?" he threw the paper down in disgust and got up from the table. He had a dinner party later that night with an important executive of a French company. They had offered to help supply the materials needed to fix the Gotham Railway at a discount. This was the second one. The first one, scheduled two months ago, never happened thanks to a homicide in the Narrows, but tonight would go on without a hitch.

Bruce sighed deeply. Had been fine for the first two weeks, but now, he found himself growing restless. His sleeping patterns, still disrupted from his night time escapades, caused him to paced the apartment late at night as if looking for something that he simply could no longer find. Restless, that was the only word he could use to describe how he felt. Bruce, trying to ignore his thoughts, walked into his private bathroom. The tile was cold on his feet, and he quickly moved to stand on the small rug located in front of a rather elegant mirror. Pulling the black t-shirt he had eaten breakfast in over his head, the thirty year old billionaire simply stared at his reflection. He saw a young man, in peak physical condition, with eyes too old and knowing for their owner. Eyes that had their innocence taken away many years before. He traced a pink line that ran from just below his chest to the very bottom of his rib cage, another close call that he had laughed about later on that same night. The bruises were gone, but the scars left over from his dark crusades were like painful memories that he could not forget. He ran his fingers through his hair and adjusted the waistband on his black cotton pajama pants. If he wanted to let Batman go, why could he not stop thinking about him. Even Mr. Fox had noticed him sporting a now quiet demeanor, and he even commented one day on his change of wardrobe at work. Bruce, however noticed it to… everything he wore was black! It was as if part of his soul had been locked away ever since the day he let Alfred return the cape and cowl to Lucius, and now, the rest of him was in mourning.

He looked away and stalked out into his bedroom. This suite, this penthouse… people were dying to get in, but all he wanted to do was get out. It was a prison. He dropped to the ground and started doing sit ups, his toned abdominal muscles flexing with every movement. Bruce stopped after sixty, laid flat out with his back on the ground, placed his hands behind his head and sighed. He felt like a drug addict, he needed Batman, but he knew Batman was bad for him. Especially now, everyone else seemed so much happier. To Bruce, their smiles weren't fake anymore. They no longer hid the worried looks from friends. After all, they didn't need to worry any more that he would one day not be able to drag himself away. That one day he would simply not return at quarter to six in the morning.

He never fell asleep in meetings anymore, and he went out every other night of the week. Still Bruce Wayne was unhappy, and even though he faked it to keep Alfred from getting suspicious, he longed to crawl back inside his Kevlar shell. Bruce opened his eyes, got up and walked back into the bathroom. Thunder rumbled outside, but he paid it no mind and turned on the water in the shower. It was hot, and it helped him relax… a little.

'Don't be selfish… everyone else is happy, you should be too.' He tried reasoning with himself. He turned off the water and wrapped a towel around his waste. Thunder clapped louder this time; the lights inside his penthouse dimmed and went out.

"Great… just great." Bruce, after drying himself off, threw on a clean t-shirt and sweats in the dark and collapsed on his bed again. He didn't want to go to a dinner party; he just wanted to sleep.


When Bruce woke up, the clock on his nightstand was flashing 12:00. It was wrong and he knew it.

"Alfred? Why did you let me sleep so late? Alfred…" No answer caused Bruce to wonder what time it really was. He turned on the Television hoping to get an idea, maybe he had only been out for half an hour. It was a special report, they always put the time in the corner of the screen.

"Five thirty seven, damn it." Bruce whispered fiercely. Knowing he couldn't be late for this meeting, he began frantically dressing when he heard a clip of what the news station was playing. His heart dropped, and his fingers stopped fumbling with the buttons on his dress shirt.

"Several people were taken, and we are doing everything we can to find out where they are. The Joker is considered armed and very dangerous, if anyone has any information please do not hesitate to contact the Gotham Police Department." Lieutenant Gordon looked haggard, and Bruce, shirt still hanging open, walked over to the television to turn the volume up. He studied the screen… he knew that store front. It was called Mario's, it was where Alfred usually bought the…groceries.

"Alfred?" Bruce shouted a little louder. The chances were slim, but a knot began to form in his stomach. Still no answer. It couldn't be. He ran out into the dining room, and he felt sick. The breakfast dishes were still on the table where Bruce had left them. This wasn't possible.

"Alfred!" Bruce shouted at the top of his lungs, but it was no use. No one was there… he was alone. He ran over to the counter, grabbed his cell, and dialed the number to the phone located in the Rolls. Seven rings, no answer. Bruce was growing desperate. He dialed the number to his office, and much to his relief, Lucius answered.

"Mr. Wayne, is that you? Slow down your not making any sense."

"Lucius, I need the suit again. It's Alfred… he has him… and others. I need to do something about it, I can't loose him too." Bruce's thoughts were racing, if Lucius wouldn't help him no one could, and he knew Alfred would be a dead man. "…please."

"How fast can you get here?" Lucius was already making his way down to the basement.

"I'll be there in ten." But Bruce knew he would be there in five, his new Lamborghini would make quick work of Gotham's side streets.

"I'll be waiting… applied sciences, Mr. Wayne." They both hung up the phone without another word. There was no time to waste, every second that went by meant one less second searching, and Bruce knew they would need all the time they could get.

And the plot thickens... Poor Alfred, and poor Bruce... believe it or not they are my two favorite characters! Hope you liked it, we should be seeing some more Joker in the next chapter. Reviews please, there is nothing better than knowing people like your writing.