Chapter Two

Formalities

"I'm really, really sorry…" I rambled on. Bruce just shook his head and smiled.

"It's okay, I promise. I get that all the time." He turned towards Ricky once again. "My associate is around here somewhere—Lucius Fox."

Ricky smiled after racking his brain, searching through memories to recall the person. "I remember that name. Helena, you interviewed him about three years ago. Do you recall?"

"Of course, I do," I replied. "Wayne Enterprises was a little more lax during that time and it was easy to sneak my way in through the back doors. Granted, I could never get away with that now, being that Mr. Wayne has come back from the dead."

"Well, a trustworthy reporter in Gotham City is always allowed through the front door. It's just that finding one would seem to be a difficult task."

"You have yet to find a truly honest reporter?" I questioned, mockingly. "I'm offended by that statement, Mr. Wayne. Why, just a few moments ago an older gentleman claimed that I was one of the most renowned journalists in Gotham. But I suppose I deserved your remark for my earlier comments."

He just smiled at me, not rudely or sardonically, but genuinely, as if he were truly enjoying the banter between the two of us. "Well, Ms. Bertinelli, I suppose we're even. But, unfortunately, I'll have to depart from you fine people and go…socialize with other guests." He looked at Ricky. "Tell me when you want to do the interview, okay?"

"Um…wait, Bruce," Ricky caught him before he left. "Bertinelli here will be doing the article."

Bruce glanced at me. "Right. It must have slipped my mind. If you find Mr. Fox, tell him that I need to speak with him immediately. Not that it's urgent—just important." He winked and smiled proudly at the cluster of people that had formed.

I sat down at the bar, watching all the gathered people. The music had grown quite redundant as I listened to the orchestra playing subtly in the background. Slightly louder was the murmur of dozens of people, discussing many of the same topics as before: shallow conversations that only delved to the subjects of business and economics. And this was supposedly 'the life'.

But the eye of one man caught my attention. Upon that instance, I recalled nearly four times when I looked up to find him staring intently at me before quickly glancing away. Sipping my champagne, I continued to gaze at him, wishing nothing more than to burn a hole into his head.

A man stood next to me, ordering a drink. "Red wine, please. Thank you, sir." The roughness of his voice, the nearly perfect dialect, and the pure tone—it all seemed so familiar to me. Glimpsing at him, I noticed immediately who it was.

"Lucius Fox."

His eyes found mine and looked confused, but realization suddenly dawned on him. "Bertinelli: the reporter from a few years back," a small laugh escaped his lips. "I remember you, all right."

"Well, not much has changed. Look at you—you are exactly the same."

"Yeah, the same goes for you. Although I don't really know why you, of all people, are here."

"Anything for a story," I chuckled. I shook my head in amazement. "You dress up nice, Mr. Fox."

"As do you, Ms. Bertinelli. But, allow me to be frank—I hate stuff like this." He took a seat next to me.

"I agree. It all seems so shallow." Another sip from my champagne, and I continued the conversation. "How are things at Wayne Enterprises? Do they still have you working in inventory?"

He laughed. "No, no…ever since Bruce returned, I'm doing much more professional business work. But it's very boring, I must say. I'm just glad that Mr. Wayne is back to control the company."

I nodded my head, looking around at the crowd—and there it was, for the fifth time in a row. The man was staring at me once again. "Mr. Fox, how much do you know of Benjamin Hawks?"

"Not much, and please, call me Lucius."

"As long as you call me Helena. So…nothing at all?"

He shook his head. "No, ma'am. I've just heard his name in passing: a conversation here and there. Mr. Wayne might have done business with him in the past, but I'm not certain. You might want to check with him."

"Speaking of which," I added. "He's been searching for you. He needs to discuss an important manner with you of some sort."

"Well, if he needs me, I'm sure he'll find me. I'm catching up with an old friend that I haven't seen in three years or so. Besides, you're the only familiar face I've seen around here that's not," he whispered, "halfway intoxicated. But that might not be too far off, the way you're drinking that champagne."

I smirked at him and then gulped down the remaining portion of my drink. "It's a good thing that I have a designated driver…and no desire to get drunk whatsoever."

Lucius began to stare at me, realization setting in on what I had just said. I knew someone here was going to bring up the topic; I just didn't know by whom. It always seemed awkward and uncomfortable when people delved into my personal life. I could see it in his face—the way he tried to be subtle, nice, and gentle. "What happened? You were gone for an entire year. Where'd you go?"

I sighed knowing that sooner or later, the question would be asked. I just wished that it had just been later. "I needed time to…get away. I explored parts of France, England, Spain, and my father's hometown in Italy. It was…refreshing and very nice to get out of the country. Seeing different places, getting out of Gotham…really helped."

"I'm sorry if it seems I crossed over any boundaries."

I immediately shook my head. "No, no, no…it's fine. I've moved on. I'm starting to get back into the swing of things: daily routines that I had forgotten, work, right down to the 30 minute jog I used to take in the mornings. It's all coming back to me." I fidgeted nervously in my seat.

"Do you still think about them?"

Sighing, I thought about my response. Do I still think about them? Of course I do. They were my family. "Everyday. Every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to bed. I've moved on, though. There's no use crying over spilt milk."

"Mourning and grieving helps. People would think you were insane if you didn't."

"I have mourned. I have grieved…in my own way."

"During random trips to Europe?" Before I could respond, Lucius' name was called from behind us. We turned to see Bruce Wayne walking in our direction.

"I've been looking for you. We need to discuss…" He glanced at me. "Hello Ms. Bertinelli. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's okay," I replied feeling extremely awkward as I squirmed in my seat. It wasn't a conversation I liked to have. "We weren't discussing anything important." Lucius locked his eyes with mine, and possessed a sense of understanding. It wasn't something I wanted him to discuss with anyone, and he would be sympathetic to my unspoken wishes. "And you can call me Helena. Being formal is not my forte." My stomach began to feel queasy and in the past five minutes, I had become ill tempered.

"Okay…well, while you're here, do you mind me asking when we're going to do this interview?" He chuckled. "I don't have a lot of time on my hands right at the moment."

I stood up from the table and smiled mockingly. "I'll call you in the morning…that is, if you're awake. We'll schedule something then." I began to walk away.

"Wait," he called after me. "Where are you going? The party's not over."

"It is for me, Mr. Wayne. I have a lot of work to do at the office, so I'm heading straight over there. Enjoy the rest of your night." I began to walk towards the entrance doors.

"Lucius," I heard Bruce say, "you've never had a lot of luck with women, have you?"

I walked into my secluded office, still dressed elaborately from the party. I attempted to save myself, fortunately, from a massive migraine by undoing my hair. The enormous amount of hairspray I used suddenly seemed like a bad idea: my hair was still stuck in its position on top of my head, and without a brush, the task of saving myself would be difficult.

I decided to ignore the stiffness of my hair and moved toward my computer. Signing on to the Internet, I checked my email. There was one message in my inbox from a cousin that I visited in Italy. Fortunately for me, it was written in English (I could barely speak an ounce of Italian).

Helena,

It has been only two months since I have seen you, and already I miss you (Sorry if my English is broken). I have been doing the research you have asked of me, and I have found something of interest. My scanner is not working so I cannot get it to you yet, but I will send it as soon as I can. Please visit back in Italy anytime.

Love,

Marcello

It was 2:35 in the morning. The charity event was sure to be a huge hit, so people wouldn't leave for a few more hours. Ricky would call soon, telling me of the details that occurred after my departure. I would stay at my office until workers started to enter the building, typing up everything that happened.

It was a sort of ritual I had every year—except for last year, of course. So, checking the clock once more, I began typing my summary.

I'll call Mr. Wayne in the morning.

Thanks to all the reviewers from my first chapter! I hope I was able to reply to everyone (my memory is bad). If not, I'll definitely do it this time around. :) Review please!