Tuesday, February 8, 2009; 2:11am – The Palms Cliff House Inn; Honomu, Hawaii
The room was quiet when he returned. Burnt logs smoldered in the fireplace and a single light was left on. Alfred was asleep in the large chair, still dressed in his usual dark tan slacks and deep green sweater vest. The book he had been reading just barely remained in his hands and his half-moon reading glasses were still on the end of his nose.
Pausing as he observed his oldest friend, Bruce couldn't help but feel bad. Alfred didn't deserve his anger. Hell, between him and Rachel, they were the only two who gave a rat's ass about him anymore. And they were the two he took out his anger on most.
He'd sped halfway around the island at double the speed limit, but managed not to get a speeding ticket until he reached Kailua-Kona—or at least that's what he remembered the officer's badge to say. The instant the young officer read the name on his driver's license, though, the cop's demeanor obviously changed. He was still cited, but at only half the speed he was actually going.
But Bruce didn't immediately speed off, continuing his Vanishing Point drive. While the young cop disappeared down the highway, Bruce had gotten out of the car and looked around.
He was just north of the tiny town, its lights twinkling faintly despite it only being a couple of miles away. To the north of him the stars were clouded, reminding him briefly of Gotham. There were no stars in Gotham. Too much pollution and light clouded the sky, and even during the day the sun seemed to be hidden behind a haze.
But here the sun was bright and the stars were countless. Well, except for that spot to the north where low hanging clouds shrouded some of the constellations.
And the tide of the ocean was easy to hear. Another difference from his city. Gotham Harbor barely uttered any sound, aside from the caw of seagulls and the low fog horn of an oil tanker. Here the ocean was loud. He could hear it even in the confines of his room in the Palms Cliff House.
He didn't know how long he sat there listening to the ocean, watching the stars overhead. But however long he did stay there, it calmed him down better than anything else would have.
The rest of the drive back to Hilo had been at the speed limit.
Deciding not to disturb the old butler, Bruce turned off the light and headed to bed.
Tuesday, February 8, 2009; 10:01am – The Palms Cliff House Inn; Honomu, Hawaii
It was a bright and early ten o'clock in the morning when Bruce strolled into the next room of the villa, bleary eyed. Alfred was folding up the last of some clothes, preparing to take them to a dry cleaners. The butler hesitated in the chore, glancing up, unsure of his charge's current mood. But whatever he saw in Bruce's expression satisfied him and he straightened. "Good morning, Master Wayne."
"Morning, Alfred," Bruce replied sheepishly, his eyes still adjusting to the brighter light in this room.
"Did you sleep well, sir?"
Bruce nodded as he eyed the small pile of clothes in front of Alfred, getting his bearings. Surprisingly he had slept well. No nightmares, no restless thoughts. Nothing.
Alfred refrained from chuckling. "Would you like some breakfast? I could fetch some—"
"No, that's alright, Alfred," Bruce interrupted in a more coherent state than he was seconds before. "I'll go get something."
Alfred watched his employer thoughtfully as he strolled out the door, dressed in a plain white T-shirt and solid navy pajama pants. And he was barefoot. Once Bruce had disappeared, Alfred didn't bother to stop the smile from his face. Seeing Bruce like that reminded him of younger days.
Tuesday, February 8, 2009; 10:04am – The Palms Cliff House Inn; Honomu, Hawaii
The inn had already stopped serving breakfast, but Bruce figured he might as well ask the kitchen if they had any cereal laying around. He didn't care for a large scale breakfast.
But finding the kitchen, on the other hand, was proving to be more difficult.
It was his third trip through the lobby before the young secretary, the same one as yesterday, finally decided to speak up. "Do you need help finding something, Mr. Wayne?"
He glanced up at her as her eyes remained locked on him. For some reason, he just now recognized how cold the marble floor was beneath his feet. "Uh, I was just wondering where the kitchen was."
She smiled brightly and quickly rounded the desk to approach him. "I can show you where it is, Mr. Wayne. Right this way."
He rose his eyebrows helplessly and followed.
"So, Mr. Wayne, what brings you to Hilo?" she questioned coyly, slowing in her steps to walk alongside him.
"This is just a short stop, I'm afraid," he replied uneasily. He'd just woken up from the first peaceful night's rest in forever; it was too early for him to be thinking coherently.
"Oh really? Well, if you'd like, I can show you some of the sights around Hawai'i. The island's beautiful."
He nodded before he realized he was nodding. "I'm sure it is," he recovered.
"Here we are, Mr. Wayne. Would you like some help in getting some breakfast?"
"No, that's alright. I think I can manage from here. Thank you," he replied quickly as he opened the door.
The woman hesitated, slightly put-out, but she eventually returned to her post behind the front desk.
Bruce, however, cautiously entered the busy kitchen, only taking a couple of steps in as he grew conscious of his bare feet again. Why hadn't he put on shoes? A passing cook quickly took notice of him and stopped with a smile on her youthful features. "Why hello there. How may I help you, sir?"
He offered her a sheepish smile. "I was looking for some breakfast—"
"Ah, of course! What would you like? We've got eggs, ham, fruit, French toast, pancakes, oatmeal, everything. You name it."
"Wow." He knew the Ritz-Carltons of the east coast hated serving food past the allotted time, unless it was for pricey room service. Alfred always had to flash around the Wayne name to get any decent service. But here… Yet another way Hawaii was different from Gotham.
"Of course!"
"I suppose some oatmeal would be nice, if it's not too much trouble—"
"Too much trouble? Ha. Just you wait right there, sir, I'll be right back with that for you."
Bruce blinked as she hurried through the kitchen, easily weaving her way through the other staff members busy with their own work. She was gone less than a minute before she returned with a bowl of oatmeal and a glass of orange juice. "Something to wash it down with," she said to explain the juice. "Now, can I get you anything else?"
He smiled. "No, I think that's all. Thank you."
"Not a problem, sir. Enjoy."
She watched him disappear back through the door that he had snuck in through. Avoiding the front desk, Bruce returned to his room by going outside and taking the stairs.
Tuesday, February 8, 2009; 10:17am – The Palms Cliff House Inn; Honomu, Hawaii
"After your 'vacation', are you planning on returning to Princeton, sir?" Alfred asked out of pure curiosity while Bruce was eating breakfast at the small table in the lounge of the villa suite for two. Despite their heated and brief conversation the day before, neither of them really knew how to take a vacation.
The elder man was now in the bedroom, making the bed. The clothes destined for the dry cleaners were still set on the couch, waiting to be taken. Alfred was probably waiting until Bruce decided to do something for the day before taking them.
Bruce shrugged slightly as he took a large bite of the oatmeal.
"You don't like it there?" Alfred's voice carried through the otherwise quiet suite.
"I like it just fine. I just don't think they feel the same way." Another bite.
Alfred frowned slightly as fluffed the last pillow, ending his morning chore. This would be school number two on Bruce's drop out list, and he definitely was not happy. He was well educated (went to Oxford), and both of Bruce's parents would've never dreamt of being college drop outs. But here he was, flunking out of Ivy Leagues left and right just because he had 'behavior problems'.
"Then perhaps while you're here, you should take a look at the university," he stated plainly as he strode back out the door.
Bruce paused in his breakfast, his dark blue hues falling away from the newspaper that had previous kept his attention. It was obvious there was a hidden meaning to his words. And see how difficult it is for them to graduate. Sarcasm layered on thick.
Well, it was a way to pass the day.
Tuesday, February 8, 2009; 3:18pm – The University of Hawaii; Hilo, Hawaii
Bruce was sitting in lecture number two for today, physics (the first had been anthropology), spinning his cell phone in circles on the little fold out table in front of him. The decently sized hall, though it was small in comparison to the Gotham U and Ivy League lecture halls, was roughly halfway filled, and about half of the population had their hands moving furiously over a notebook most of the time. The other half occupied their time like Bruce did, by just sitting and listening, or by people-watching or listening to their CD players turned down to a discrete volume. It was a familiar setting, and one he was comfortable in. Bruce was never bad at school; it was just the social environment he had issues with.
What the professor was teaching he had already learned. Once in Excelsior Academy, again in some of the old books in the Manor, and once more in Yale. Currently, this specific class was studying G-force, how to calculate it, what it's good for, etc. The thing that made the lecture interesting was how this specific professor showed several clips of roller coasters and would instruct the students actually paying attention to answer certain questions about the velocity and force (etc) of the coaster.
But this lecture, just like the last, was about to slip by just as quickly and just as uneventful, if it wasn't for something strangely familiar sitting only five rows in front of him.
The two people who had caught his attention were whispering to each other, or rather one was whispering to the other. The male was the one doing the whispering while the female was feverishly writing notes, her head bowed over her notepad even though she still remained leaning back in her chair. Every now and then, she'd tilt her head to the side to whisper something back, but she never took her eyes from her notes. Bruce leaned forward, cell phone abandoned on the tiny table in his lap, to try and get a better look as he suspiciously recognized who the pair was.
Suddenly her hand stopped writing and she glanced fully to her friend sitting next to her. Her eyes rolled and a smile spread before she glanced up at the professor, who was now wrapping up his lecture. "Well, that's all for today. Don't forget that your papers are due tomorrow by midnight by E-mail."
As the mixture of shuffling and muttering began as students began to gather up their stuff, Bruce's eyes remained fixated on the couple he had seen at that small restaurant the day before. They both stood and headed for the isle, filling in the few spaces between other students as the rush headed out of the lecture hall. Bruce allowed his eyes to trail them shortly until he became more focused on getting out of the room himself. Only once he was up and weaving through students out into the hallway did he realize he had ended up right behind the pair.
"Do me a favor, Travis. Don't ever come to class with me again," she said as they both stepped around a couple of students and headed out of the building.
The man laughed as he rocked on his heels, unaware that he nearly collided into a passing student. "What else do I have to do before work? You're my ride, remember?"
"How about instead of distracting me, you sign up for a class and actually learn something." She looked and sounded like she was serious, but something in Bruce told him that she was kidding. Actually, she reminded him of an old Brit with a dry sense of humor…
"Hey, you're the nerd here, not me."
"Well, speaking of being a nerd, I have another class. Now either go find someone else to harass or be quiet and keep up." She quickly turned on her heel and headed towards the adjacent building, but her steps were slow. The male hesitated, but took only a couple long steps to catch up with her. And she had been waiting for him, as Bruce noticed. The instant they were side by side again, their pace quickened into longer strides meant for their long legs.
With an inward shrug, Bruce began to follow the pair. He wasn't quite sure why they stood out to him, but he figured it was probably just because they were familiar faces by now.
Or maybe it reminded him of him and Rachel, had things been different. Rachel always was the responsible one, babysitting him.
Or maybe he was just waiting for the girl to smack Mr. Abercrombie upside the head.
He remained a few paces behind them as he followed, but something else caught his eye aside from the two in front of him. His eyes darted towards the benches that lined a large planter and there sat a man with a newspaper forgotten on his lap, a large camera covering his face. A couple students passing by noticed the photographer and paused, glancing at him first before following the camera's line of sight towards Bruce.
Bruce's eyes narrowed.
That one small action made the photographer lower his camera slightly, his beady eyes just above the object as they rested on Bruce from a good twenty yards away. It had barely been a day and already the paparazzi that had been assigned to tail him in Sydney were stalking him here.
Great.
Deciding to forget about the lone photographer, Bruce turned back towards where the pair he was following should have been, but stopped dead in his tracks when they were nowhere to be found. Instead he spotted a dozen more people staring at him, and two more men with cameras.
Releasing a sigh, he spun around as he pulled out his phone, heading for the nearest building. The butler promptly picked up on the second ring. "Yes, sir?"
"Alfred, I need you to pick me up from the university. Now."
"So soon, sir? You aren't enjoying yourself?"
Bruce finally entered the double doors of the nearest building, falling into a small rush of other students. He'd entered Hilo U's form of a cafeteria, and the noise level shot up. "I'm enjoying myself just fine. It's the press that have just arrived that aren't earning my favor." Luckily in here no one was paying attention to the four photographers that were hurrying towards the double doors Bruce had just slipped in through, which could easily be seen through the large windows. Bruce was, once more, just another face in the crowd. He headed for a corner in building.
"Ah, I see. I'm on my way now, Master Wayne."
"Thanks Alfred." Bruce slipped the phone back into his pocket just as he himself slid into a chair. The table he'd found was in the far corner of the building, and conveniently surrounded by several other groups of students, too preoccupied with their own conversations to notice him. Or so he had thought.
His icy blue eyes remained locked on the photographers as they finally squeezed into the building, their hunky cameras attached to their hands. They desperately glanced around, a couple even going as far to question the others. But none of them could spot their money ticket.
Bruce smiled.
But his smile quickly faded as other students began eyeing the photographers curiously, some of them even glancing around once they caught onto the idea. He sunk lower in his seat, instantly wishing he had some sort of book or even a newspaper to bury his face in. The paparazzi only bothered him like this when he did something new. Or when he was in Gotham.
It took them a month to leave him alone after he started Yale, then Princeton. And even then they still had one around on standby, just in case he did something newsworthy. He'd grown used to them just as everyone else around him had. He was just Bruce Wayne again.
Here in Hilo, he doubted they ever saw any celebrities here. And just thinking of himself as a celebrity made him cringe.
"Hey, mind if I sit here?" a young woman suddenly asked. She was standing next to his table, but from the four at the adjacent table staring at them, it was obvious where she had come from.
Bruce hesitated slightly, quite honestly not wanting anyone to join him, but as long as she was standing there, she was a beacon for the paparazzi. "Not at all," he managed.
She flashed a wide smile and nearly jumped into the seat across from him, her long brown curls bouncing over her shoulder. "Wow, thanks! I mean…"
He tuned her out for the slightest moment as he glanced around her, catching sight of his four stalkers. They had split up somewhat, all four of them heading through the building as their eyes scanned the students. But his attention instantly returned to her when she said his name.
"What?"
She flushed. "You are Bruce Wayne, right?"
He nodded carefully, now searching for a way to leave.
"I remember you from magazines when I lived in Gotham. What are you doing here?"
"Vacationing," he answered without a second thought. His attention carefully returned to the photographers, who were finally making their way down the hall and into the next building.
"Well, if you'd like, I can show you some places that tourists never get to see," she said sweetly, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was paying very little attention to her.
Once the press vanished from view, Bruce returned his attention fully to her. "Maybe another time, I'm a little—"
"Of course!" she practically squealed, making him wince. "Any time, Bruce. Here, let me give you my number…" she trailed off as she dug through her purse that had been tucked under her arm for a piece of paper and pen.
Bruce tried to stand, but she quickly caught his arm and handed him the small, torn scrap of paper. In pink pen was her name, Tiffany Barton, and number. The 'I' in Tiffany was dotted with a heart.
"Call me anytime," she suggested as she released his arm.
He shed a forced smile as he absently kept the paper between his fingers, but managed to maneuver his way back out of the crowd of the cafeteria and into the open air through the doors he had come through. By then the small scrap of paper was a crumbled up ball on the ground as he scanned for some place to disappear into until Alfred called, announcing he had arrived. Buildings housing classrooms were off to his right and straight ahead, steady streams of students strolling in between. Off to his left, however, was a rec-center, emphasized by the fenced off tennis courts nearby it.
But as he glanced between the two directions, his thoughts suddenly darted to the pair he had spotted earlier. It would be nice if he could find them again.
He took a couple of steps towards his left, his direction towards the last building he remembered the pair heading towards. But he stopped suddenly when he caught sight of the paparazzi mongrels darting out of the other side of the building he had just come from. They were in the same direction he was heading.
He spun around and headed towards the rec-center.
He entered the nearest door to the building and found himself in a quiet lobby. A desk sat off to his right and was empty, but behind it was an open door where voices trailed from. In front of him was a wall of windows, revealing a large, Olympic-sized indoor pool where a couple of people were swimming laps. Couches and plants littered the lobby space, along with vending machines and several awards. And off to his left were the locker rooms and a stairwell with the sign: Viewing Area.
Taking another glance at the open doorway behind the desk, he ascended the stairs.
The strong smell of chlorine overwhelmed his senses once he opened the door at the top of the stairs and found himself atop a balcony composed of rows of concrete benches. He moved towards the balcony's ledge, where a plane of glass kept him from falling over, and sat on the first row. From there, he could see the entire pool.
It was set up for long course, the lane lines horizontal to him as they stretched across the long, 50 meter pool. There were only three people he could see swimming, each had their own lane.
Bruce leaned back, propping his elbows up on the next step behind him as his eyes went to the high ceiling.
The door to the balcony suddenly opened, gaining Bruce's attention. And of all people to come bounding down the stairs, the same guy of the duo Bruce seemed to keep running into landed on the third large step up on the balcony, and on the opposite side of Bruce. He tossed his backpack off to the side and relaxed in a position similar to Bruce's; elbows propping him up, back and neck up against the step behind him, legs stretched out and crossed on the step below him. Bruce watched him absently as the kid's eyes focused on something below them in the pool and a small, thoughtful smile appeared on his tan face. Bruce followed his gaze.
A tall, tanned, slender figure stood at the edge of the pool, adjusting the goggles over her eyes. Wearing a black, one piece suit and a black cap over her head, Bruce had an inkling who it was. Gracefully, she dove into the water, making over a fourth of the way down the lane before surfacing into a smooth freestyle.
"Hey!" the guy at the other end of the balcony suddenly shouted, echoing in the large space of the indoor pool. He had turned around and was facing another male descending the stairs, dressed but with wet hair and lighter skin. "What are you doing here?"
"Dude, I am always here. I saw you up here, and came to find out what you're doing here. There are no hot girls playing in the pool."
The familiar kid to Bruce laughed as he shook his head, raising his hand to gesture in the direction of the pool. "Ana's here 'cause her class was cancelled. I'm here because I've got nothing else to do."
"Ana," the other said, his eyes darting to the pool. "The chick you follow around all the time?"
Travis's face contorted in embarrassment as he brushed off the accusation. "I don't follow her around."
"Travis, I'll admit she's hot, but she's weird. I don't know how you put up with her, especially when there are how many hot babes' numbers in your phone book?"
"Hey, think what you want," Travis suddenly said as he stood, scooping up his backpack and deflecting the accusation with the desire to leave. "Meanwhile, I'm off to see one of those 'hot babes'."
His friend snickered, earning a hesitant grin from Travis as the two ascended the stairs again. Bruce's eyes followed after them for a moment before returning to the graceful figure in the pool below him. She was already on her third lap, stroke never faltering.
And then Bruce's phone rang, signaling Alfred's arrival.