Author's Note: Wow, it's been a few months, hasn't it? Sorry, 'bout that. Ready for the morning after? It's not much for now, but more to come. I'm trying to a do a little more focus on Bruce and Chloe rather than leaping right back into the mayhem...but rest assured, mayhem will resume momentarily.

Disclaimer: I don't own DC Comics, Smallville, affiliates, and so forth.

oOo

…'and it's a beautiful Sunday morning here in Gotham. The forecast for today is sunshine with a slight chance of rain in the afternoon. Current temperature is forty-five degrees with a high in the mid-to-lower fifties. Tonight in the low forties and perhaps dipping into those high thirties. And remember, if you're looking for a night at the opera, tickets are on sale at the box office at the Gotham theater. I'm WGCM's meteorologist, Dave Pascal'.

Chloe could hear the faraway sound pricking at her conscious, prodding her to wake up. Her eyes felt extremely heavy and she couldn't quite make herself open them just yet. She must've slept like the very dead for she didn't dream at all. It was if her sub-conscious had hit an immense wall and fell flat.

As a matter of fact, her memories of last night were a blur at best. The very dry feeling in her mouth reminded her that she'd definitely had too much to drink.

Too much to drink!

Chloe's eyes shot open and she lurched from the bed as images of last night came flashing randomly back into her mind.

She was just about to leap out of bed only to find her feet dangling nearly a foot from where a very nice oriental rug lay on the floor beneath her instead of the bare wood floor her feet were used to hitting in the morning.

Taking a moment, to look around she didn't need to be hit with an epiphany as she gaped at the unfamiliar surroundings. "Well, this obviously isn't my room," she remarked out loud as she looked around the room.

Her eyes squinted at the two windows nearly floor-to-ceiling that bathed the entire room in the bright morning sunlight. Her gaze fell to the thick, velvet comforter piled on top of silken sheets that she held clutched in her hand and onto the black satin sleeve at her wrist. She absently plastered a hand against her chest to find herself fully clothed in set of black silk pajamas trimmed in gold embroider. Clearly not at all like the dress she remembered wearing last night.

"Ah, good morning, miss."

Chloe jumped at the sound, her head jerking in the direction of the open doorway.

"Oh, forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you. I trust you slept well?"

Chloe looked up to see the familiar older gentleman from the gala when she'd first arrived in Gotham and once again at the dojo several nights ago. He was smiling warmly in a very welcoming sort of way.

"May I get you anything?"

"Um, no-thank you" she mumbled absently as she continued to survey the room with a rather perplexed expression. "How did I even get here?"

"Oh, well, you see," Alfred began. "Last night, I fear that you were bit worse for wear…

Chloe's brows scrunched harder in confusion at Alfred's explanation, making him falter a bit.

"Forgive me, that wasn't quite what I meant. What I mean to say is that you were hardly in any condition…

"It's all right, Alfred," Bruce said, suddenly appearing around the doorway. With a quick pat to the butler's shoulder Bruce brushed past him and strode into the bedroom. "I believe I can take it from here."

"Very good, sir," Alfred said quickly and turned away to leave, but not before heaving a discretionary sigh of relief.

Chloe's eyes leveled with dread as her gaze followed him through the room. "Oh god, it's worse than I thought," she mumbled.

Her dread put a quirk in his cheek. "Good morning to you too."

Chloe placed a bracing hand on her forehead. "Oh god, please tell me that I—that we—we didn't…" Chloe stuttered, not so much terrified of the prospect, but of the ramifications.

Bruce nearly laughed out loud at the abject alarm in her voice. He settled across the room, leaning against a rather large mahogany secretary and grinned. "Hmm, such flattery."

"Wait a minute!" she blurted suddenly. "You had a date last night," she recalled, her eyes moving as she searched the broken pieces of her memory; a fleeting sense of satisfaction tickled her when she remembered spraying that woman with champagne.

"Yes," he drawled with a simple nod of his head.

"Oh my…did you…?"

Chloe leapt from the bed and began to pace back and forth in short steps, while absently chewing at her thumb. This began to cause Bruce some concern as to what sort of mayhem she planned on causing this morning by simply thinking. He honestly had never met any other woman that had caused him more consternation, yet intrigued him at the same time.

Her head swiveled in his direction, eyes wide. "Did you bring her back here too?" she shot at him, aghast.

Before Bruce could even process such a notion, she had begun to charge out of the room.

He quickly stepped in front of her, his hands braced against her shoulders. "Look, I'm not quite the bed-hopping Don Juan you take me for," he stated calmly. "If I remember correctly, you kissed me last night."

Chloe only stared up at him; her face fell to no expression. "Yes, it's all coming back to me now," she replied deadpan.

Bruce sighed and dropped his hands from her shoulders. "Look, the fact is- you were in a very precarious position whether you realized it or not. But as it happens, my only intention was to make sure were kept safe. So I brought you back here,"—he gestured to the room—"and returned to my quarters—alone," he said the last with pointed look.

Chloe looked away thoughtfully. Much as it galled her to admit, he was right. She had been playing a very dangerous game of cat and mouse last night. If she'd been anywhere else…if he had been anyone else….if she'd been left alone much longer with Mr. Salvatore Maroni…

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," she said suddenly, taking him by surprise and much to her own. Calmed by reason, Chloe's tone softened with thankful realization. "I guess it's easy to jump to conclusions and I apologize. You're absolutely right; I was in a shaky situation last night," she added and the words didn't seem to taste quite as bad as she thought they might. "So I guess that makes you something of a knight in shining armor."

Bruce gave a casual shrug shoulders.

Chloe turned to go back into the bedroom, but stopped and did an abrupt about face. She had a skeptical grin on her face. "So, if you're so noble—Sir knight. Just where did these come from?" she asked, pulling at the extravagant nightwear.

Bruce just shoved his hands in his pockets and lowered his head with a thoughtful grin.

Despite her implication, her smile broadened. "Please, tell me you didn't—

"No- no," he interrupted quickly, grin still in place. "Alfred has—a friend-and she came to help." He'd sooner die than tell her who really had a hand in that one.

She was still looking at him with skeptical sideways glance, just a trace of a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Alfred didn't think you'd be very comfortable sleeping in a dress," he added quickly.

Chloe's eyes squinted a bit with consideration. "I'll be sure to thank him, as well."

"Uh, there's coffee and some breakfast downstairs—if you'd like some," he offered quickly, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "If you'd like to get dressed then there are some clothes in the wardrobe."

"Courtesy of Alfred's friend?" she asked, her smile not betraying her skepticism.

Bruce returned her smile with the playful notion that possibly breakfast just might be in order for him as well.

"I'll leave you to it then," he excused himself to leave her to dress.

oOo

It took Bruce only matter of seconds to leave Chloe in the midst of his house before heading straight down into the cave where he knew Alfred should be waiting with results of last night's chaotic, albeit interesting recon mission.

"Analysis, Alfred."

Alfred turned away from the multiple screens that were tossed up all over the laboratory area.

"Just as you suspected, sir. Flunitrazepam," he informed gravely. "Or most commonly referred to as—

"Ruffies," Bruce finished deadpan as his gaze locked onto the screen, but unseeing as a jolt of anger shot through him.

"A moment longer and I'm afraid our dear Miss Sullivan would've had more to worry about than simply waking up in an unfamiliar mansion," Alfred added.

Though he wasn't surprised, Bruce's mind raced for calm reason in order to tamp down the adrenaline rushing through him fueled by this strange feeling of rage at the various scenarios of how last night could've ended had fate not thrust them into each other's paths.

"But why a date rape drug," Bruce couldn't help thinking aloud. "Why go to the trouble of drugging her when he had the sure thing draped over him all evening?" He shook his head, befuddled. "Someone must've known she was with the Gazette. That's the only explanation."

"After all, Mr. Van Zandt was there, sir," Alfred remarked as he cast a glance to the surveillance screens to find that Chloe was examining herself in the mirror. "Curious though," Alfred added thoughtfully.

"Oh, absolutely," Bruce replied as he watched surveillance videos of the rooms that she occupied. Despite his benevolence, he wasn't leaving anything to chance. Without a doubt, if he turned his back on her for even a moment, she'd somehow manage to snoop her way right up behind him. The image of her tapping on his shoulder only to find her smirking up at him nearly brought a smile to his face.

…nearly.

"It's not that, sir," Alfred referred to the mystery of Maroni having drugged Chloe.

Bruce shot Alfred a curious glance from the corner of his eye. "What do you mean?"

"After all, sir, this 'ruffie' as it is referred; it's designed to render an individual completely incapacitated with no memory of anything that occurred during that period. In addition to the alcohol she consumed last night, Miss Sullivan managed to be perfectly…how shall I say it? …smashed? Yet this morning she doesn't seem to be ill, no headache, no nausea, absolutely no signs of a hangover whatsoever. Forgive me, sir, but even your most seasoned alcoholic isn't that immune. Not to mention she seems to recollect quite a bit of last evening,' Alfred noted.

"Yes," Bruce drawled in a thoughtful manner. "She even went so far as to accuse me of trying to bed her and Miss Whitfield in the same house, in the same evening."

After that little bit of information, Bruce was waiting for Alfred's response in some form of disbelief, but after a moment of silence he looked up to find Alfred grinning from ear-to-ear.

Bruce could only roll his eyes. "Oh, c'mon Alfred."

Alfred's smile never wavered. "Far be it from me to discredit your own prowess , sir. However, I would've liked to have been the proverbial 'fly on the wall' for that one. I'm sorry I missed it."

Bruce gave Alfred a rather pointed look. "Back to the topic, if you don't mind, Alfred. Even if Miss Sullivan were a veritable Lindsay Lohan, it still doesn't explain what Maroni thought he was going to do with her," Bruce considered, the possibilities nagging at him.

"No sense in mulling it now, sir," Alfred reasoned. "She's here, she's safe. All that's left to do is to take her home."

"Unless Maroni decides to come after again. You can be certain that he knows where she lives now," Bruce countered.

"Then that does present a problem, then doesn't sir? Eventually she will want to go home," he informed as he pointed to the surveillance camera in the foyer.

Bruce watched as Chloe had gathered her things and was quickly making her way to the front door.

oOo

Last night must've been worse than she remembered. Chloe had thought for certain she'd be hard-pressed not to snoop to her heart's content, but found she was anxious to make a hasty exit. Her memory was fast coming back to her in flashes. As her brain was in such fast recovery, she felt that it must also be kicking in her survival instinct of fight or flight. In which case, she couldn't run fast enough.

"Leaving so soon?" his voice echoed to her ears causing her to pause with her hand on the front latch. "I had thought for certain I'd find you poking behind bookcases, not running for the front door."

Chloe fought the urge to roll her eyes, but instead turned with sardonic smile in place. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'll have to take a rain check on playing celebrity sleuth for another time."

Bruce settled before her, hands in his pockets. "You know studies strongly advise against skipping breakfast. Alfred might not be a professional, but he makes a fabulous garden omelet," he offered, with a tilt of his head towards the general direction of the kitchen.

Before Chloe could give him a crushing "some other time" she felt a gnawing rumble within her middle and absently pressed her hand against her stomach to quell the noise. Oh, how she hoped he hadn't heard that.

He lowered his lips to her ear. "There's hot coffee and plate full of croissants."

A quirk tugged at Chloe's mouth. "Why Mr. Wayne, are you trying to seduce me into breakfast?"

Instantly Chloe found herself staring at plates full of every kind of breakfast food imaginable: a picture perfect Garden omelet with a side of Applewood bacon. Strawberry crepes smothered in whipped cream, a row of French toast, small sides of sausage and croissants littered the black granite countertop of the large island within the kitchen.

She wheeled her head around to where Bruce was fetching his own coffee. "You do realize that I can't eat all of this?"

"I couldn't eat all of that," he chuckled with emphasis as he settled down on the other side of the island.

"You know, this really is above and beyond the call of duty and don't get me wrong, it all looks and smells fabulous, but I really should get going," she babbled as she began to slide off the bar stool.

"All right," he exhaled through a great sigh, allowing his eyes to circle skyward before settling pathetically onto the counter. "I guess Alfred went to all this trouble for nothing."

Chloe openly gaped at him. "Are you serious with the guilt trip?"

Bruce never looked up, only shrugged.

Still looking at him, Chloe plopped back onto the stool, grabbed at a croissant and tore into it. "Happy now?" she shot at him, mouth full of bread.

Bruce raised his head, cynical expression in place. "Immensely."

oOo

A/N: Okay, so it isn't much :-p But I'm trying to build up to a chapter that is purely just Bruce and Chloe. So let's kick it off with breakfast!