Note: Everyone needs a break every once in a while, especially when they are obviously being unappreciated.

Chapter Eighteen: MIA

Willow knew something was wrong that morning when she woke up.

When she learned exactly what, she wished she had stayed in bed.

The second she came down the stairs, followed closely by Kennedy, Xander came running toward them. Willow saw the look of concern on his face, and of course, her first thoughts were of Bruce and Buffy or Batman and Buffy. Was she supposed to consider them two people, even if she knew that they were not?

"What? Oh my Gosh! Is one of them hurt? One of them is hurt! How bad?" Willow asked, trying not to trip down the last few steps.

"No, I mean," Xander said, waving his hands around like he was trying to take off and fly away, "we don't know."

"What do you mean?" Kennedy asked. Xander just motioned for them to follow him and together the three of them went to the study where Alfred was. "Ok. Here is the deal: they went out last night following the bat signal, but the cops did not fix it. According to the paper this morning, someone else did. They didn't come back to the cave this morning. Alfred checked."

"I used the computer to trace the Tumbler. It is at the Penthouse, but they are not answering any of my calls," Alfred added while clicking away at the computer. "They entered the Penthouse at 6:27 this morning according to the computer logs there."

"Computer logs?" Willow wondered out loud.

"The security system Master Bruce had installed. It records at what time the elevator was used and so forth. They used the elevator once at 6:27 and then again at 8:15. Just ten minutes ago."

"And they aren't just not answering their phones," Xander corrected. "When I try to call Buffy, it tells me that the party I am trying to reach is out of signal area and the same when Al tries to call Bruce." Alfred glanced up, a look of annoyance on his face at being called Al, but he said nothing.

"Was one of them injured or captured?" Willow asked. "Is there any way we can know for sure both of them were at the Penthouse?"

Alfred nodded, tapping at the keyboard again. "The camera in the elevator. Let me just bring it up." Willow, Kennedy, and Xander all piled up around Alfred so they could see the screen. "Here we are." Alfred clicked on a button and a recording of the interior of an elevator popped up on the screen. He enlarged it to full size and they all leaned forward to watch.

Bruce entered first, or rather Batman, and then Buffy.

"Hey! Is that Buffy's outfit?" Xander piped up, pointing at the screen. "Wow! That is…"

"Xander!" Willow scolded. Xander shut his mouth.

On the screen, Bruce hit the button on the elevator, and removed his cowl and gloves. They were talking, and both appeared to be fine.

"No visible injuries. Can we see when they left?"

Alfred clicked around and then another shot of the elevator came up. This time Buffy and Bruce were dressed normally, Bruce in a suit, and Buffy in a knee high dress. She put her arm through his as they rode down, and both seemed alright: they were talking and at one point laughing. Then the elevator stopped and they got off.

"I even called Lucius. He hasn't heard or seen from Mr. Wayne today." Alfred clicked the computer off.

"So we know that they are alive and not hurt, whoever sent out the signal was not the police, and, what?" Willow mused. "They aren't talking to us? They are laying low? What?"

"I don't know," Alfred sighed, running his hands slowly down his face, looking as if he were sick or something. "But whatever is going on, I hope they know what they are doing?"

There was just the two of them, a cook, and a man to steer the yacht, whatever he was called. Buffy could not remember, but she was pretty sure it wasn't pilot or captain. Steerman? Guy who mans the big wheel? She wasn't certain, and really didn't care. He did his job, and that was all that mattered.

She and Bruce had arrived at the dock just after 9:30. He had taken her shopping again, attire for yachting, and then they were ready for playing hooky out in the sea.

Bruce wanted them to go out far enough to not be spotted, but close enough just in case. Both had moments of guilt, both knowing that this was wrong, but they both also knew that they needed a break. And besides, risking your life for a city that didn't give a damn about you, wanted to see you behind bars sometimes more so than the criminals themselves, was taxing and spirit draining. They deserved this. They needed this.

The rest of the day, except when they went out on deck to eat, they stayed below decks, in the master suite. With no one to interrupt them, it was time well spent.

That night, they drifted onto shore again only to attend a party thrown by the city for the Police Force. A charity benefit sort of thing. Bruce wore a black tux with a bowtie, though his was different from all the others by the fact that his cost ten times more. Buffy wore a black, strapless gown that shimmered and caught the light thanks to the rhinestones on the bust and trim. The big hog of the dancing lights was the chocker she wore. It was made of diamonds set in platinum, with a large tear shaped diamond that dangled and set into the dip in her throat. Bruce pointed out in a whisper that many of the women in the room rented their jewelry for events such as this from jewelry stores. Buffy's choker and ring and bracelet and earrings were not rented: she had been there when Bruce had written out the $1,476,897.42 check out for them.

That would be in the paper tomorrow.

They blasted through the party, Bruce greeting everyone who approached him, introducing her to all the same. Drinks that were not drunk, and conversations that were empty, all went by in a blur. When the commotion died down, and at the first available opportunity, they slipped out, abandoning the party, and seeking the sanctuary of the yacht.

The next night, a play at Gotham Theater, one they only watched half of, sneaking out without detection. And then the opera, and two more parties over the next week, never staying longer than they had to, just long enough to make it in the papers the next day, and then back to the privacy they apparently could get at sea.

"I don't bloody believe it!" Alfred exclaimed, throwing the paper down on the counter top. Willow was leaning not too far away, enjoying her coffee while Xander was outside, mowing, and Kennedy was still asleep.

During this past week that Bruce and Buffy had been hitting all the hotspots, but not crime fighting, Kennedy had been going out at night, doing what she could. And she made it very obvious how she felt about this and about the absent duo.

"What now?" Willow asked, staring into the half empty mug.

"Showed up at the Mayor's birthday party last night," Alfred sat down heavily. "One minute they were there and the next they were gone, and then on the same bloody page, they are talking about the apparent nonappearance of the Batman." He shook his head. "I do not know what has gotten into those two, but I wish they would snap out of it."

The doorbell rang, startling Willow. Alfred just sighed and stood. Something told Willow to follow, so she sat her cup down, and did so. She had just turned the corner as Alfred opened the door, and she smiled in surprise.

"Giles!" She rushed to him and hugged him.

"Willow, how nice to see you." He turned to the Wayne butler. "Mr. Pennyworth. An honor to see you again, sir."

"Likewise, Mr. Giles. Please, come in."

Giles stepped inside, glancing around, in his usual awkward way. "I do not mean to barge in unannounced and then make demands, but where is Buffy."

Alfred and Willow exchanged a worrisome glance, before Alfred cleared his throat. "We are not really sure."

"What?" Giles was truly perplexed.

"She and Bruce have not been here in a week. We can't get in touch with them and don't know where they are hiding out at." Willow looked down at her feet. Not as interesting as hot, steaming liquid, but they would do.

Giles stuttered around, unsure of what to say, and very perplexed. Finally, he removed his glasses, and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. "That is unfortunate, because I found some most disturbing news pertaining to the Insurrection."

Alfred and Willow exchanged another look, this one more worrisome than the last. "Sit down, and tell us what you know." Willow said as she closed the door.

Buffy found Bruce out on the deck, leaning against the rail, staring out at the sea. His back was to the city. She pulled the coat she wore tighter about her against the night air, and walked over to his side.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He was silent for a moment. "I am thinking about how guilty I feel, but at the same time I want to leave and never come back." He looked over at her. "I want to run far away, it's nothing I haven't done before, but then I can't just abandon Gotham to the fate of a madman."

"I know how you feel," Buffy admitted, not as reluctant as she would have been had he not said anything. "In all the years that I have been a Slayer, I have never been able to just leave it, except that once, when I was 18, but that didn't work out so well, and I have a feeling that this won't either."

Bruce sighed, pushing himself off the rail, and pulling her to him. "I guess we need to face the music and go home."

"And face our friends, Alfred, Lucius," she sighed, resting against him for a moment, and then pulling away. "But first, we go to the circus." She straightened the dark red tie he was wearing, which happened to match the dress she was wearing under her coat. "One last night and then we will face whatever we have to."

Bruce nodded, kissing her, and then brushed her cheek with his knuckles. "Have I told you how much I love you?"

"Yes. Every day, but I never get tired of hearing it."

"Then I love you more than the very air that I breathe." He kissed her again, and then took her hand. "Come. We have a circus to see."