Chapter Two – Waking up in a Strange Place
Chloe's eyelids fluttered once, and then again, before she opened them. She was lying on her back, in what certainly seemed to be the most comfortable bed ever. There was very little doubt that the pillow her head rested on was goose down. She took a moment to take in her surroundings. There was a gauzy white canopy over the bed. The headboard and bedposts were mahogany.
She wanted to get up, but her body, especially her limbs, was still catching up, far too weak for her to stand, or even sit up yet. The room was warm. There was a nice fire burning in the fireplace across the way.
Half the far wall was bookshelves, built in. Her eyes wouldn't focus quite well enough yet for her to make out the titles of the books, but they certainly seemed to be old, very old. She was regaining her senses enough now that she had begun to wonder just where she was, and how she'd gotten there.
The last thing she remembered was sitting down with her coffee to get ready for the mission. The mission! The memories came flooding back, the mission, her team walking into a trap, the breach at Watchtower, being shot. It dawned on her that a place this beautiful, with all these expensive furnishings, she could be in the Luthor Mansion. "Tess," she growled.
At that very moment, the door opened, and she struggled to at least be able to sit up, but it wasn't Tess, nor the guards she might have expected. Instead, the man who entered was the epitome of a Gentleman's Gentleman. He was tall and slender, with a head of silvery-white hair. His smile when he saw she was awake was near enough to make her want to smile back in kind. He was carrying a tray with what appeared to be a cup of some hot beverage, judging by the steam wafting from it, and unless her sense of smell much deceived her, there was a plate of eggs and bacon as well.
"Here, let me help you. Miss," the man said, his English accent surprising her for some reason, as he set the tray on an overstuffed chair nearby. He moved to her, gently helping her get into a sitting position. Her mind told her that she shouldn't trust him, that it would all turn out to be some trick designed by Tess to get her to give up her files on the team, but every instinct told her that she should wait and see.
"Thank you," she said as he arranged the pillows behind her back.
He smiled that smile again. "My pleasure, Miss."
She tucked a few stray blonde hairs back behind her ear and bit her bottom lip.
He clearly noticed, and understood. "I'm sure you must have questions," and before she could answer, he added, "and you must be famished."
"I am actually," she said. "And I do."
He picked up the tray and settled it onto her lap. "Why don't we start with this," he said. I hope you like omelets. This one is western, ham, onions, peppers, cheddar, and mushrooms. The tea is Earl Grey, however, I also brought up a spare mug and a pot of coffee as well."
At her confused look he added, "It is on a cart just outside the door." She nodded. In addition to the omelet and the crisp bacon, there were a half-dozen wedges of what seemed to be rye toast spread with butter. There was even a small vase with a single short-stemmed red rose.
"The tea will be good with breakfast, but I'll definitely need coffee after," she said before starting with a wedge of toast.
The man settled into the overstuffed chair while she ate.
"This is delicious," she told him after sampling the omelet. He smiled. "I'm sorry," she said, dabbing her lips with what appeared to be a white silk napkin, "but I don't know your name."
"I am Alfred, Miss," he answered. "If you need anything at all while you are here, just press that little button on the nightstand next to the bed, and I shall endeavor to aid you post haste."
She smiled at that. "Okay," she said. "Just Alfred?"
"My surname is Pennyworth."
She nodded. "And just where is here, Alfred?"
"You are in Gotham City, Miss. Wayne Manor, to be precise."
She almost choked on a bite of her toast, quickly sipping some of her tea to calm the fit of coughing. Alfred waited patiently.
When the coughing had subsided a bit, she said, "Gotham is a long way from Metropolis. Just how did I get here?"
"Why, Master Wayne brought you, after he found you in a distressing situation at Metropolis General Hospital."
"A distressing situation?" she tried to sound as though she didn't understand what he meant, but his smile, for the first time a bit condescending, told her he knew better.
"You were dead for roughly thirteen hours, and asleep for the last twenty," he said.
"Oh that," she said. She took another bite of the omelet and another realization hit her while she chewed. She swallowed and said, "You said Wayne Manor, and Master Bruce, as in Bruce Wayne?"
Alfred nodded, his smile back to being more kindly, the condescension replaced once more with warmth.
"And just how did Bruce Wayne happen to be in the MetGen morgue?"
"I was going to dig the bullet out of your chest and run a ballistics test, until I realized you had a pulse." She looked up to see him standing in the doorway. He was tall, a little over six feet, which left him a few inches shorter than Clark. He wore a pair of dark grey slacks and a black polo shirt. The fabric of the shirtsleeves strained with the bulge of his biceps as he stood with his arms crossed. He had dark hair, slightly wavy, with hazel eyes, and a face that might well have made her swoon had she not been sitting with her back against the headboard.
She cleared her throat and took another sip of tea, giving her a few seconds to compose herself. When she did speak, she was proud of the calm tone of her voice. "Do you do that often, Mr. Wayne, dig bullets out of dead bodies and run forensic tests?"
He smiled, and despite the fact that the smile never actually reached his eyes, she felt her pulse quicken by twenty beats, or so. "No," he said. "Not too often, but in your case, I felt I owed it to you to track down the woman who killed you."
"Tess," she growled again, before the words sunk in. Wow, she really was slow getting going today. "How did you know I was shot by a woman?"
Again the smile that wasn't really a smile. "Because I was there."
She thought back. Something had happened just after they drugged her. Someone had broken through the window, fought Tess's team. At the time, she'd thought it was one of her team. She wasn't thinking clearly then. An image swam up from the dark recesses of her mind. A man with dark wings and the ears of a bat.
"You were there," she said in a faltering voice. "You're the Batman." That last was in a near whisper.
"And you are Watchtower, techie and mission coordinator for the Justice League." By his obvious lack of surprise, it was clear that Alfred knew all of this as well.
She saw no real advantage in denying what he clearly already knew. Besides, if she wanted to rescue the team, she'd need all the allies she could find. Perhaps he'd be one. "They were after the files in my system. They didn't get them did they?"
"No," he said. "I wiped the whole system."
He did what? She could feel the blood drain from her face. All her files, everything.
"Relax," he said, pulling what looked like a flash drive from his pocket. "I backed it all up on here first."
She simply shook her head. It wasn't possible. Her Watchtower system had more than a terabyte of data. No flash drive in the world could hold that much. She told him so.
"You might be surprised," he said. "I'm going to go back to your place this evening, have another look around. Do you want me to pick anything up for you?"
She did, some clothing at least, and she told him so.
"When I get back, we'll talk about finding a way to free your team from Luthor." With that, he turned and left.
The teacup slipped from her fingers, spilling the small mouthful of tea that remained on the comforter. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," she said, looking at Alfred.
"Not to worry, Miss," he said. "I have no doubt that the stain will come out. Enjoy the rest of your breakfast, and ring me if you need anything else." He retrieved the cart from the hall and poured her a cup of coffee before leaving. She wasn't sure why, but she was a bit surprised when he left the door open just a crack, as if to say that she welcome to both her privacy and her right to leave the room when she wished.
She was almost too flabbergasted by the whole scene to finish her breakfast, almost.