Disclaimer: Batman belongs to those people at DC Comics and Christopher Nolan. But my characters belong to only me and no one else.
She surveyed the various floral arrangements with a mild curiosity, her gaze lingering on the less elaborate ones a little longer. Still, she read the cards that came with all the flowers, cringing at some of the messages that implied a sort of familiarity when she was sure they barely moved past exchanging pleasantries.
In the midst of going through the forty or so arrangements that crowded out one corner of the room, a knock sounded at the door and one of the nurses entered with an arrangement of yellow roses. With a barely imperceptible nod that seemed to approve the choice of flowers that she held in her hands, the nurse whispered excitedly that it came from Bruce Wayne.
To Chloe's credit, she looked back at the nurse with a blank expression that revealed none of the surprise she'd felt at the mention of his name. She simply thanked the nurse and only when the door closed behind her that Chloe took the attached card and began reading.
It was embossed with the Wayne Enterprises logo and she swallowed at the familiarity of the script. The handwriting wishing her a speedy recovery was one that she could recognize anywhere and as much as she still hated his guts, she felt a warm glow inside. But just as quickly, she dismissed it as nothing more than a gesture of him feeling partly responsible for the condition she was in now.
Just as suddenly, she heard a British voice on the other side of the door. "Miss Greenwell, its Alfred Pennyworth. Can I come in?"
To say that the butler's presence was unexpected was making light of the situation. This could very well turn out to be an extremely awkward situation and truth to be told, she felt guilty to be seeing him now, mostly because she was aware of the bad shape that she was in.
"Come in," Chloe called.
The door swung inward, and Alfred entered. In his left arm, he clutched a brown grocery bag.
"Oh dear, you look terrible," he exclaimed, concern written all over his face. He came up to her side, carefully depositing the items he brought at the foot of her bed.
"So I've been told," she replied, good- naturedly.
Alfred, who was now sitting beside her bed, looked rather relieved. "Word has been going around that you're holding on to dear life."
"Pfft," she glanced at him sideways. "I thought the flowers were more or less a peace offering?"
For once, the butler seemed rather perplexed and then realization dawned when his eyes settled on the roses and the card that accompanied it.
"He doesn't always have the foresight to send flowers to make peace," Alfred remarked.
She pondered on that information and met Alfred's gaze. "Can't say I'm surprised but it would be nice to believe that he did." She attempted a mini- shrug before sinking back down into the pillows.
"I've brought you something that you might like," Alfred said, bending down to retrieve whatever it was.
At this, she perked up. "Ooh, about damn time," and then, "Ow. That hurts."
Immediately, Alfred rose from his seat and moved to rearrange the pillows, taking great care to not jolt her any further. "I've discovered that chicken noodle soup is everyone's favorite food when they're ill."
She glanced over at Alfred as he prepared the food, "You know, you really didn't have to do this."
"What happened between the two of you clearly got out of hand and this is exactly where I should be right now." Alfred's kind face sought hers and she felt extremely guilty for putting him in a position that he hadn't signed up for.
"I'm sorry for the trouble, Alfred."
"Now, don't you bother yourself with that, but just focus on getting well soon." Alfred advised, and she nodded mutely. "I choose to be at where I'm most needed and you, my dear, could certainly use some of that."
She flashed an impish grin at him. "Everyone needs an Alfred in their life, right?"
To this, he brought a bowl of soup to her lips. She inhaled the comforting scent of the soup as he spooned it up for her. "This is good." It wasn't long before she finished the bowl of soup and it was much to Alfred's satisfaction when she asked for a second serving.
As he refilled the bowl, he noticed that she was wincing slightly. "Is anything the matter?"
She shook her head, more from an attempt to dispel the pain rather than to answer his question. Then she made a wheezing sort of noise that alerted Alfred to what looked like she was experiencing a shortness of breath.
His medical training during his stint in the army kicked in and Alfred instinctively grabbed an extra pillow lying nearby. He lightly pressed the pillow against the injured side of her rib for support, while he instructed her to breathe slowly but deeply. "And repeat, my dear. That will do it."
She nodded weakly, doing as she was told. It was only when Alfred was sure that she had resumed breathing normally, and as painlessly as possible that he reduced the pressure on the pillow.
Her chest heaved, and the slight sheen of sweat that clung to her hair, attested to how clearly she was trying to hold it together.
Alfred smiled down at Chloe, but she couldn't help noticing that it was pinched with worry. "Feeling better, Miss Greenwell? I'll get the doctor now."
Chloe nodded again.
Alfred watched the doctor as he entered the room, his gaze evaluating the doctor that has been put in charge of Chloe. It was only slightly later that Dr. Paine registered the presence of a well- dressed elderly gentleman with a decidedly British air about him and this seemed to concern the doctor slightly. "And you are?"
To which, Alfred simply replied, "I'm Bruce Wayne's butler."
As expected, it had the effect of successfully putting at rest the doctor's concern about an outsider visiting his patient. "I see."
He refocused his attention on Chloe, and a cursory glance told him everything that he needed to know before he addressed Alfred. "You called the nurses about her having difficulty breathing, correct?"
"Yes," Alfred confirmed. "I helped her through it."
The doctor nodded, without looking very much surprised himself. "So…" He consulted his records of the pain medication that had been administered over the past two days before looking over at his patient. "I've taken the liberty to review the dosage of the patient- controlled analgesia for the morphine that you have specifically requested. With your permission, I'd like to suggest that you consider an alternative to address the thoracic trauma you've experienced."
Chloe motioned for him to continue. "By replacing the patient- controlled analgesia with epidural analgesia, we would be able to provide a more effective method of pain control with an excellent ability to relief pain with minimum sedation. As I've mentioned previously, there is no need to progress into narcotics, unless you're insisting on it."
"I'd like to know what it is exactly."
"The shortness of breath you just experienced necessitates the use of this method to improve your pulmonary function and to reduce the risks associated with multiple rib fractures. By combining local anaesthetic with an opioid, less stronger than morphine but just as effective, the medication is administered via an epidural catheter. My advice is to take this slowly. At this point, pain control is our top priority. As your doctor, my responsibility is to ensure that you receive adequate pain relief before recommending physiotherapy."
She nodded her agreement readily enough.
"In the meantime, I'll put you on oxygen support. Only as a precaution against lung infection," the doctor added.
"How is she?" Bruce asked, as soon as the elevator shaft came to a grinding halt in the cave. "What pain meds did they put her on?"
"She seems to be coping with the pain." Alfred felt that her doctor's opinion was what Bruce needed to hear. "But she's still not started on any form of physiotherapy yet."
"Anything else?"
The butler continued on seamlessly, "Her doctor also recommended that they control the pain with epidural analgesia."
At this information, Bruce looked sufficiently reassured. While he was doubtless that her father would ensure Chloe received the best medical care that money could buy, Bruce wanted to make doubly sure that she had a team of professionals dedicated to her recovery.
As Bruce resumed his investigations into the mysterious disappearances occurring in Gotham of late, he was momentarily distracted from the task at hand by Alfred's reminder that the Mayor's birthday party was less than six hours away.
"Alfred, I'll drive the LaFerrari tonight." By now, Alfred had developed the ability to not take offense at suddenly being told that he wasn't needed, but the slightly forceful tone behind the request was not lost on him.
"But, sir," Alfred began, "You told me to pick up the socialite from the hotel before I pick you up from the office."
"I'm going to the hospital after the party." Bruce didn't find it necessary to add that he was planning to spend the night in the hospital by Chloe's side. "I'll pick Alexia on the way to Garcia's."
"Of course, sir." At this, the butler decided to withdraw but not before chancing a glance in Bruce's direction. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there was much more going on inside the younger man than he was choosing to reveal. He knew there was pain there, and until Bruce was ready to move on, Alfred could only pray that it wouldn't swallow him whole.
In the years that Bruce Wayne has become a permanent fixture in Gotham's social circuit, he had also redefined it. His parties were notorious for its excesses, and were, without a doubt, one of the most memorable ones that the city's well-heeled inhabitants had been invited to. Established as it were, that Bruce's parties were unparalleled in its execution, there had been numerous attempts to dethrone the Prince of Gotham as the lord of parties. Even then, Bruce had remained largely unconcerned as the wives and mothers of politicians made it their business to find out whom exactly he'd hired to ensure that all his parties were such a success. But as he was ushered past the grand entrance of the Mayor's penthouse residence, he knew he had been beaten.
"Is this really the Mayor's party?" Alexia breathed, taking in the gilded setup of the venue. It was, admittedly, overwhelming in its execution but thankfully not quite Midas' playground.
"Positive," Bruce assured his date for the evening.
He had been introduced to Alexia Hearst during the spring preview of a celebrity diamond jewelry line whose campaign she starred in. Tonight, the socialite was dressed in a blush pink long sleeve beaded Zuhair Murad gown which she rounded out with diamonds from the said collection.
The Mayor came over to personally welcome the billionaire and his glamorously chic female companion, whom Bruce had an arm low on her waist.
"Bruce," Garcia greeted him, and they shook hands. "I'm glad you could make it," At this point, the Mayor's wife appeared, bestowing Bruce with a supremely pristine smile, to which he returned.
"Thank you for the invite, Mayor Garcia," Bruce replied. "This looks set to be one grand party." The billionaire's approval had the intended effect of making the Mayor absurdly proud as he clapped Bruce heartily on the back.
"If there's anything at all that you need, let them know." Garcia gestured toward the waiters, making their rounds to ensure that the crowd was sufficiently fortified before the night was to proceed any further. "Enjoy," And he departed.
Even for Bruce, the champagne fountain and the gold- leaved hors d'oeuvres were a tad excessive, and that was only what he had seen so far. On the outside, Bruce maintained a fairly cheerful disposition, but on the inside, all he felt was an overwhelming disgust at the ostentatiousness and the waste. With some difficulty, Bruce ignored the little voice in his head that mocked him for being a hypocritical son of a bitch.
Fair point, Bruce conceded internally, taking in the scores of wealthy guests as they sipped, nibbled and giggled their way through the night's festivities.
It was a little past eight when the Mayor took to the stage to address the many wealthy and titled guests who had turned up to celebrate his birthday. "Ladies and gentlemen." He waited until he had the attention of everyone in the crowd. "As you all know, I'm only a few hours away from being fifty. I've been told so much about the horrors of aging and the idea that aging dooms you to a life of lethargy and unhappiness. If George Orwell is right about turning 50, I'll wake up with the face I deserve tomorrow." The crowd roared with laughter. "Thank you all for coming here. But first of all, I'd like to thank my wife, Magdalena for her support throughout the years we're married and for giving me three daughters to love. And I have everyone here to thank for believing in me as your Mayor. Please, raise your glasses for me." The applauding crowd complied, raising their glass for a spirited toast with their host.
One would be hard- pressed to encounter any man or woman who would not acknowledge the fact that Bruce Wayne was exceptionally popular with the ladies. At present, none could deny the magnetic pull of his overconfident poise as one could easily mistake the party as one thrown to celebrate him.
"It's not like Chloe Greenwell to miss a fine party like this." He could hear the question in that statement. Why would Chloe skip out on the Mayor's party? "I know for a fact that she likes the attention."
Bruce didn't need the reminder that he played no small role in Chloe's absence from tonight's party.
"It is a damned good party." Bruce agreed easily. "Can't say I wouldn't enjoy the attention, if I were her."
Another woman he'd recognized from one of those many parties he'd been to, cut in from Bruce's elbow. "Haven't you heard about the accident? It was everywhere. I heard someone was killed in the accident." She spoke of it as if Chloe had run someone over and needed to be charged for manslaughter.
Bruce was about to stand up for Chloe's behalf…
"Oh, Brucie, pray tell us if she's doing alright in the hospital." A blonde in a decadent gold brocade tea-length gown implored, lightly tracing his arm with a manicured fingernail so that the diamond bracelet she wore fell down her wrist and caught the light.
He knew who she was, the eldest daughter of a businessman who had recently expanded his manufacturing business to Gotham.
"Yes, yes, she's your girlfriend after all." This came from a brunette in an effortlessly- styled Armani Privé gown.
"Tell us what you know." They were all positively clamoring for his input but Bruce would not give them the satisfaction of having more than they already did to gossip for the rest of the night.
"She's doing fine." It was all Bruce said whilst attempting an empty, broad smile.
"That poor girl," One of the women, whose manicure, clutch and gown were all in the same shade, clucked sympathetically "It must be terribly boring at the hospital."
"She'd be so out of fashion by the time she gets out." Bruce smiled privately, thinking how disappointed they would be to have themselves beaten to fall's latest fashion when Chloe is finally discharged.
"Excuse me," It was time for Bruce to take his leave from their company and their pettiness.
None of them acknowledged him but he didn't really care. Not too far away, he saw the man whom his parents knew very well, politely declining the Mayor's offer of another glass of champagne.
Despite the knowledge that Chloe's father wasn't too fond of him, Bruce made his way over to Derek Greenwell. He understood that no well- meaning parents would like for their daughter to be entangled with a man of his reputation. "I'm sorry to hear about your daughter."
In response, her father only nodded briefly and silently regarded the man who had catapulted his daughter into tabloid stardom. He'd grudgingly admit that it wasn't too bad of a strategy for a heiress who'd only just returned to claim her place in Gotham's society, but he was certain that she was much more personally invested in it than she was letting on. Derek was worried for his daughter, and rightly so.
Bruce had wandered amongst the crowd, and heard snippets of conversations, all of them in some ways revolving around Chloe's "misfortune", or as politely as they could put it. More often than not, they would surreptitiously indicate in his direction.
It's none of your damned business, Bruce wanted to say to their defined and perfectly sculpted faces but wisely held back the desire.
A well maintained woman of a certain age roped Bruce into a tiny group of Gotham's most influential. They were also similarly engrossed in the very topic that had suddenly made Chloe the most talked- about person tonight.
Not this again. Bruce almost groaned very audibly.
"I heard her father has been driven nearly half- mad when he heard what happened." Tilda, the wife of Gotham's district state senator, was dressed in a Prada gown with a slight train that even Bruce thought looked matronly and stagnate for a woman of her age.
A man he recognized as the Mayor's brother-in- law whose philanthropic efforts have focused on research, policy, and educational projects to advance free- market views attempted to steer the conversation away from Derek Greenwell. "Ladies, please."
"They say she's secretly helping the Batman with a drug case he was investigating." This came from the wife of Pierre Adelmann, a prominent Gotham businessman who has spent two billion in overseas investments and acquisitions in the past year.
"Poor dear," Another businessman's wife looked aghast, then composed herself. "The Batman's nothing but bad news." A few heads in their circle nodded all at once, Bruce included.
He glanced around, unable to even begin imagining how the Mayor and his wife would take to all this talk that has been going around. Their ego would not take too kindly to their party not being the one thing on everyone's mind tonight. Even the Batman, it seems, was not spared from the conversation which had made Chloe the focus of their conversation.
The blast of cool night air in Bruce's face when he stepped out onto the relative peace and quiet of the skydeck was just what he needed. His date had long ago drifted from his side, no doubt in search of more talkative company. The soothing cacophony from the streets below washed over him and only then did Bruce took a sip of his champagne.
In the years she'd worked with Bruce Wayne, he'd always been nothing less that someone who could charm, schmooze and get his way with whomever he encountered. Tonight, the employer that she'd come to know was nowhere to be found, instead she found herself with a brooding equivalent of her employer. He was deep in thought, as evidenced by the way his eyes wandered to take in the cityscape, his less than erect posture and his loose grip around the glass he held over the edge of the building.
"This party has already worn you out?"
"Just a little overwhelmed is all." Bruce said, noticing that it was the first honest thing he'd uttered all night.
She smiled gently. "I would imagine so," For a moment, she simply kept silent. Then, "I can't believe they'd actually be talking about Chloe. What else is there to say about someone whose been hospitalized?"
"I thought they'd be much more sympathetic when it comes to one of their own." Even as he said, he was aware of how naive he sounded. Nothing makes better fodder for gossip than someone else's misfortune, just so they could celebrate their own perfect lives. They knew as well as he did that the combined wealth of the Wayne and Greenwell estate could easily eclipse the net worth of some of them combined. Aha, the cheeky voice in his head exclaimed, you're so over your head to be thinking about you and her. As an item.
"She doesn't mind, you know." Camilla informed him, suddenly sounding as if she shouldered a massive burden that no one else knew about.
When she spoke again, her eyes were no longer seeing him. "There were things that she has taken great pains to hide. Even from her father."
Bruce was no longer simply curious; this was a startling turn in their conversation that made all sorts of alarm go off in his head, in the Batman's head. "She's doesn't want anyone to know that she has been to rehab."
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Someone needs to know, but I'm not sure if you're the right person." She spoke this softly but there was no mistaking the undercurrent of conviction that she was doing the right thing.
"No one else will know about this." Bruce promised, his eyes darkening with a hard resolution. In the cover of the night, Camilla could only hear it in her employer's voice.
At midnight, the Mayor's birthday cake was wheeled out in the dark to a chorus of 'Happy Birthday' from the guests. The cake was a whooping confection of raspberry compote filling with a vanilla sponge topped with chantilly cream, a whole punnet of strawberries covered in edible glitter and gold leaves.
Contrary to popular opinion, Bruce was very much a self- aware individual and to those very few who knew him well, his every action was crafted for an intended purpose. And if Chloe knew any better, she would have realized that Bruce fully intended to drive her away when he uttered those very words that had upset her as intensely as it did.
After what felt like an excruciatingly long night, Bruce finally made it to the hospital. He didn't go in right away, however; for a moment, he leaned his forehead against the steering wheel and tried to convince himself that both of them would be better off if he never see her again. He had once promised himself that it was his responsibility to keep her safe and going in there meant confronting his failure to do just that.
But he didn't want to not see her again, either.
Within the darkness of the hospital room, Bruce sat silently by Chloe's bed, unhappily accompanied by the grinning face on a single helium balloon tied to the chair he was on. All at once, the hateful, harsh reality of her condition hit him like a truck driven by a raging sociopath bent on wrecking havoc in the lives of those whom he'd come to care for. It all felt more real now, standing here as Bruce Wayne and watching as her breath fogged up the oxygen mask.
He thought of her, and how she would always have this spring in her step. Or the way she called out to his bullshit when they first met on his yacht. For all their different yet very privileged upbringing, she possessed a childish enthusiasm that resonated with his bumbling billionaire persona. In her own way, Chloe helped him embrace the Bruce Wayne that he has come to loathe as much as the very society he was himself a part of.
In the midst of all the beeping, clicking, ticking machines, an apology arose to his lips. Unconsciously, Bruce's hand reached across the expanse of sterile white sheet to grasp her hand. The contact brought him comfort, and a tiny part of him hoped that it also conveyed a sincerity that nothing else he could ever do would. Bruce pathetically reminded himself that she was, at least, alive.
Outside, the sun was steadily rising behind the skyscrapers of the city, coloring the horizon in hues of pink and orange. Bruce, who had remained watchful throughout the night, was finally roused from his vigilance. As he retrieved his car keys, he accidentally pocketed another set of keys. When he took it out of his pocket, he noticed that it was for the C-X75 concept that never made it to Jaguar's production line. The green satin ribbon tied to the keychain, and a slip of paper informed him that it was a gift from Marco to Chloe.
With a long, lingering look over his shoulder, Bruce took the first light of sunrise as his cue to leave.
On his way out, Bruce encountered a nurse doing her rounds. Accustomed as he was to being recognized by anyone who cared to keep up with the societal pages of the Gazette, he wasn't prepared for this nurse's audacity to come up to him. She was, to his dismay, no different from the paparazzis who constantly hounded Gotham's most eligible bachelor. "Are you here for your girlfriend? The Greenwell girl?"
Bruce, whose unflappable charm had yet to fail him in times of need, smiled disarmingly at her. He merely said, "I'm here for a friend."
He felt, rather than saw, the disbelieving look she directed at his retreating figure. It seemed as though everyone wanted him to define what Chloe really was to him. Or wasn't.
A/N: I apologize for the very long delay in updating. The last update was two years ago but rest assured, I am back!
Thanks for reading and reviews would be greatly appreciated... I need your encouragement and the knowledge that there are still people reading this :D