Disclaimer: All characters in this fic are owned by DC Comics and are based on the characters in The Dark Knight. I only own my plot.

Chapter 4: Disorder

A/N: Bruce and Alfred debut here. Also, I know that people are reading this because of the number of hits. So, please review. I'm not here to give you all lectures, but it's actually the polite thing to do.

Song: Toxicity by System of a Down

"This is unbelievable!" Bruce Wayne shouted, slamming the newspaper down upon the table, sending vibrations through the wood. His butler and old friend, Alfred Pennyworth, walked quietly into the living room with a breakfast tray, silently wishing that Bruce wouldn't treat the furniture in such a manner. It just wasn't civilized in his opinion.

"Breakfast, Master Wayne?" the Englishman asked, hoping that the piping coffee and fresh eggs would take the young millionaire's mind off of the tabloids long enough for him to relax a bit. Thankfully, Bruce was able to forget about the paper for a moment as he plucked the steaming cup of coffee from the tray.

The young man raised the cup towards the butler, a small smile on his face. "Thank you, Alfred," he said, adding the usual sugar cubes to the drink. Alfred's coffee was just what he needed to start the day. Even if it had already started with the most horrible of news.

"Master Wayne, if I may ask, what were you shouting about a moment ago?" Alfred inquired, taking a seat beside Bruce. The elderly man smirked inwardly. Oh, he knew he didn't have to ask what the young master was upset about. After all, he always retrieved the paper in the morning, and read it before handing it over to the younger man. But, he felt that it might do the young master a bit of good if he were to talk about his distress rather than bottle it up.

At the mention of the article, Bruce's eyes widened and he slammed the coffee mug on the table, spilling the hot liquid on the newspaper. "Look at this!" the younger man cried, stabbing his finger at the rain-soaked front page. "It's unbelievable! It's madness! It's... It's..."

"The Joker," Alfred sighed, finishing the sentence. Picking up that paper, Alfred began to read aloud: "'After a shocking seven months of confinement in Arkham Asylum, Gotham's most infamous criminal mastermind, the Joker, has made his escape from the world famous prison. During his daring escape, the madman succeeded in killing several guards, as well as Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, the head administrator, and founder, of the asylum.' Well, you should have seen that one coming, sir."

Bruce buried his face in his hands. "For the love of..."

Alfred continued. "'A vehicle parked outside the asylum was seen leaving the building just seconds before the explosion. The impact of the blow appears to have instantly killed 1,107 of the 2,500 inmates, as well as twenty-seven additional guards.' Dear, God! 'Several others were found severely wounded in the wreckage.'"

"Don't you see it, Alfred?" Bruce huffed, throwing his hands up. "This city is dying! I can't keep up with my company, the mob, and the Joker at the same time! Especially not now that we have another possible merger coming up. I'm telling you, this is madness!"

The butler stared at the paper. He never could figure out how the Joker managed to elude the authorities every time. Then again, nobody knew. The man was truly an insane genius. "Hmm... Master Wayne?"

"Dammit! The Joker has the worst timing! It's almost as if he knows who I am and what's going on in my life! Damn him!" Bruce suddenly went off on a tangent, failing to notice that he had spilled his coffee all over the table and that poor Alfred was hurriedly wiping it up to avoid staining the fine wood.

"Excuse me, Master Wayne!" Alfred raised his voice to get Bruce's attention. "I do apologize, but there is something else that you might want to have a good look at," Alfred suggested, handing Bruce the newspaper, pointing to one of the paragraphs.

Bruce glared at the paper as he read aloud. "'Dr. Harleen Quinnzel, a former psychiatrist working for Arkham, was supposedly seen fleeing the building with the Joker...' Dammit!" Bruce roared, tearing the paper to shreds. "This is just perfect, Alfred. The doctor from Arkham, who was classified as certifiably insane seven months ago, is now a wanted criminal working alongside the Joker!"

"If you remember, Master Wayne, Dr. Quinnzel was on board one of the ferries that the Joker was planning to destroy the night of his apprehension. The doctor was probably very shaken from the whole experience. And, from what I have heard, sir, several people who were on those ships began to suffer from horrible bouts of insomnia, amongst other problems. It was all probably due to the shock of having their lives in the hands of a madman," Alfred said pointedly.

Bruce sat back down in his chair and rubbed his temples. "I know, I know. It's just so frustrating! Especially after..."

"Rachel and Harvey's deaths," the butler said gently. "I know, Master Wayne. I truly know how it feels to lose someone you care for. Why, I was crestfallen when your parents died, you know. I never thought that anything would happen to either them. I always believed that they would be here every day when you ran inside after school, and that they would be able to watch you grow into the kindhearted man you've become," Alfred said soothingly, resting a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Rest assured, Master Wayne. Your parents would be very proud were they standing with us today."

Bruce had heard everything the butler had said, but he soon became immersed in his own thoughts. Thoughts about Rachel and Harvey...

But Rachel... Rachel...

"God, Rachel..."

They'd had an argument about Bruce's double life, during which Rachel had made herself very clear: She didn't like the idea of Bruce putting himself in danger. When he had told her to mind her own "damn business," she had almost walked out on him. And he hadn't been expecting that...

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"All right. If that's the way you want it, Bruce," she said, turning her back on him. Frankly, she'd had quite enough. The last thing she wanted was to see some news report covering the death of Batman. She just wouldn't be able to bear it.

Bruce sighed, clearly not willing to consent to her requests. "Rachel..."

"What now?" she snapped, crossing her arms in front of her. A part of her mind began screaming at her, telling her that she should let him do what he wanted. While another part, her more sensible half, she assumed, told her to stand her ground. "This isn't a game, Bruce. You need to understand that."

He threw his hands up, eyes ablaze. "What is it you want from me? I'm only trying to do what's right..."

She turned on him, staring fiercely into his eyes. "Oh, really? You call trying to get yourself killed the right thing?" Rachel's eyes filled with tears, and it was clear the he knew what was going on: She was holding them back. "Just like this," she said, shoving a newspaper in his face.

Bruce barely glanced at the paper before pushing it away. "It was just a close call. Nothing more, Rachel."

Her eyes pierced his with a white-hot fury. A fury that Bruce had never seen from her before. "A close call? Is that really all it is to you? Fine! If you want to waste your life like this, then fine!"

"Rachel," he said, grabbing her shoulder. "It isn't a waste! I'm the only one doing anything in Gotham! If I stop now, then what? I'll live, but in shame. If I stand by and watch these people die while I have the power to make a difference... That's not being sensible. It's being a coward."

She shook her head and pulled away from him. "I'm done with this...Goodbye, Bruce."

"Rachel!"

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"What am I supposed to do, Alfred?" Bruce muttered, burying his face in his hands. "I swear, this city is going to the dogs what with the mob and the Joker creating disorder everywhere they go..."

The butler chuckled slightly. "Well, what do you always do, Master Wayne? I can proudly say that I have never seen you back down in the face of evil. Ever. I don't think that now would be a good time to start, do you?"

"You're right, Alfred," the younger man sighed, leaning back in his leather chair. "I can't let him have his way again. I can't allow him to kill anyone else."

"Well said, Master Wayne. But remember this: even Batman has limits," Alfred said with a smile.

"I know, Alfred," came the reply. "But things will be different this time."

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