More than an hour later, the chimes of the grandfather clock in the downstairs hall echoed through the house. It was nine o'clock, and Carly was going to be late to the ball. This wasn't much of a surprise to any of the Wayne Mansion's frequent party goers. Carly was always late. They all just assumed she liked to make an entrance. Bruce knew better. He knew that she was self-conscious. Ever since they were kids, Carly had felt like she wasn't worthy of his attention.

She tried to compensate for this by showing up to every party dressed to the nines. Her hair was always styled in some new complicated look she'd researched on the internet. Her make-up was colorful but classy and based on what he'd heard from his guests, she could accessorize with the best of them. He just wished he had the courage to tell her that she was just as beautiful eating cold pizza on his couch as she was painted and stuffed into one of Alfred's dresses.

By nine oh five she'd managed to make her grand entrance into the ballroom. It was a familiar setting. The attendees, though giving off the illusion of mingling, were standing together in their respective social groups. The reporters were off to the right, each of them jotting down notes in their phone as they observed passersbys. Carly recognized the Daily Planet's top reports Lois Lane and Clark Kent among the pack of media wolves. She rolled her eyes. It was a mystery to her why Bruce allowed the press past his front gate.

In another corner of the room an entirely different group of animals were gathered. These were the richest of the rich. The Waynes might have been the oldest and wealthiest in Gotham but there were others. True these families were billions behind Bruce, but their net worth was still more than Carly would ever make in a hundred life times. It was also worth mentioning the old money coming in from out of town. Oliver Queen, for example was perched by the bar with one hand on a glass and another around some girl's waist.

Yes it seemed things never changed in the world of the upper class. Brushing past Oliver's newest lady friend, Carly stepped up to the bar and ordered a drink. This was a trick she'd learned at seventeen. Men were less likely to ask for a dance or vide for her attention if she had a drink in her hand. Plus four or five glasses for now, the whole gala would feel just a little more manageable. She began to wander the perimeter of the dance floor, only then realizing she'd forgot to ask Bruce what the gala was for. Luckily someone, probably Alfred, had hung a large banner of explanation over the buffet.

Gotham City Library Benefit Gala

After a few more circles around the room, and a second glass of Jack Daniels and cola, Carly spotted Bruce. He was mingling with the reporters. While some people preferred to avoid the attention that came with public notoriety, Bruce reveled in it. He had a way of talking that intrigued even his most passionate social enemies. She'd always envied that about him.

That was the toughest thing about being his best friend. As a man who'd grown up in the public eye, he presented himself in a certain way. But at the end of the night once the glasses were cleared and the ballroom was empty, he was a completely different person. As a teenager Carly had found the whole idea romantic. There was a secret side to Bruce Wayne that only she and Alfred saw. As an adult she'd come to feel sympathy towards him. He was trapped in this character he'd created.

Lost in her thoughts, she allowed her feet to meander outside onto the backyard patio. As she shut the nine foot tall glass door behind herself, she could hear the sounds of the party disappearing. Without the constant chatter of the other guests or the lively tone of the band she could think clearly for the first time since that afternoon.

What are you doing here, Car? She silently scolded. You're not a little kid anymore. You can't keep pretending you belong in his world. You're twenty-five and he's twenty-seven. You're both too old to still be playing this game. You need to get over your childhood crush on Bruce Wayne. Stop going on dates you know won't go anywhere and start thinking seriously about your future!

She heard his footsteps before she hears his voice. The sound of his expensive Italian leather shoes clicking on the stone patio reverberated outwards into the back acres of his estate. There was a soft rattle as the glass door was closed once again.

"What are you doing out here all by yourself?" Bruce asked. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She quickly tried to wipe away her silent tears.

"You didn't tell me you'd invited Clark Kent." Was her sudden answer. Bruce frowned. He knew her better than that. She wouldn't have come outside just to avoid a single journalist.

"I didn't realize you disliked one Metropolis reporter so much."

"It's not just him." She shook her head. "It's all reporters. How can you welcome them into your home after all the horrible things they write and say about you?" Bruce smiled.

"Clark is one of the good ones, Car. Sure he's written an overly critical piece or two about me in the past but after sitting down and talking with me, he realized we're on the same side. Fighting for the same things. He's a friend and I'd trust him with my life."

"That's not saying much." She countered. "You trusted that French guide with your life while we were traveling to Germany, and he set you on fire."

"That was an accident if I remember correctly, but fair point." Bruce chuckled at the memory. "How about this, I'd trust Clark with your life."

"Guy must tell one hell of a story." She couldn't help but crack a smile, but it faded away fast. "It's not only the reporters either. I think I should go home, Bruce."

"Home? You are home. You're going to spend the weekend here. Remember the circus is in town?"

"No I mean my actual home, my apartment. We've been growing apart for a while now…"

"Growing apart?" Bruce felt like she'd pulled his heart from his chest. "Carly I don't understand…"

"Two birthdays, a Christmas and I can't even tell you how many lunches you've canceled! I understand that you're an important man, Bruce. I get it. I'm a lawyer for your company so I've seen the kinds of things you have to deal with, but you used to make time for me. I'm just saying that we're adults, there's nothing keeping us together."

"You're my best friend, Carly." In fact she had been his only true friend for a long time. They'd met at a grief counseling meeting for orphaned children when he was eight and she was only six. Alfred had thought it would be a good idea for the surviving Wayne to learn to cope with his loss. The entire ordeal would prove fruitless. Aside from making Carly's acquaintance, Bruce never much cared for the meetings. He stopped attending them after a month, but not before insisting the two friends stay in touch. By some miracle Carly was adopted to a good family who lived in the center of Gotham City. Her adopted parents James and Natalia Rogers took care of her. Though they weren't wealthy by any means she wanted for nothing as a child. They wanted her to be happy so they encouraged her friendship with the lonely Wayne boy who lived just out of town.

Bruce reached out and wiped the tears from her eyes with his silky pocket square. He squeezed her into a tight hug and tried to imagine what his life would be like without Carly Rogers in it. She couldn't possibly know it, but she was the center of his world. The one thing in his life that had never fallen away, despite his neglect. He felt so guilty now. He'd made her feel unwanted and rejected. How could he possibly make up for that sort of pain?


A/n: Thank you to Doominater84 for this story's first review! I have to admit that Bruce is going to get a little angsty, but well he's Bruce so a little is to be expected! As you probably realized by now, there will absolutely be mentions of the Justice League! Especially Clark Kent. I think he and Carly are going to become good friends! Thank you so much to everyone who's already begun to enjoy this story. I'll be back with updates as soon as possible. :D