Excerpt from the Wednesday, November 12, 2008 edition of the Gotham Gazette, Society Column, Section B1:

Senator's Son's Society Wedding A Selective Soiree

When political veteran and Democrat Senator Gregory Winston announced the engagement of his son Bradford to the lovely and philanthropically-inclined photographer Elisa St. Marie, many citizens and paparazzi hoped that the wedding would be a large and public affair that would be the toast of Gotham. Alas, society will be disappointed: this is one of the most exclusive affairs of the year; the Winston family eschews the limelight and prefers their celebrations away from the prying eyes of the media and public.

This does not mean that the wedding will be either small or sparsely attended; among the guests are counted several actors, many of the Winstons' political colleagues, lobbyists, and connections as well as a respectable representation from Gotham's Captains of Industry, including longtime family friend Wayne and his current paramour, Annabeth de Burgh. The Winston wedding will no doubt be a lavish affair, and the celebrations will be taking place this weekend, over an extended period, in the Winston's Berkshire home.

With a copy of the Gazette tucked under his arm, Bruce arrived at Safe Haven very early that Wednesday morning, just at the same time that Donna did. As he joined her in mounting the steps to the building, she glanced at him in wordless surprise for a moment, but then merely gave him her customary smile of well-polished, politic good grace. Her only comment was typically succinct: "You're certainly here early this morning." The explanation was obvious, however: along with the Gazette, he was carrying several blue-prints, rolled tightly and hiding goodness only knew what late-night inspirations he had cooked up.

"I'm an early riser," Bruce answered with an easy grin. Donna had been unlocking the front doors, but stopped to look at him sharply. Despite his perfectly groomed appearance, his meticulously ironed slacks, and his air of easy, vibrant good health, there was no hiding the shadows under his eyes. Silently she surmised that it was less to do with being an early riser and more to do with burning the candle at both ends; perhaps it was not that Bruce Wayne was an early riser but that he had never gone to sleep at all. She could only imagine what shenanigans he had managed to embroil himself in during the wee hours. She kept these thoughts to herself, however, and only nodded towards his blueprints. "I see you've been brainstorming again."

Bruce nodded, and there was no need for him to force the enthusiasm which sparkled in his eyes. "I was going over the blueprints—" Actually, Alfred had been going over the blueprints the night before whilst waiting for Bruce's return to the Manor the night before, but Donna didn't need to know that— "And thought of some other things that we can add into them." He held the door open for Donna, and together they ducked into the building, out of the biting cold that had settled onto Gotham for the duration of the season. Inside, Safe Haven was a center of warmth and quiet; it was still too early for most of its inhabitants to be awake. Thomas the security guard was there, and gave them a wordless, cheerful wave as they walked past his desk.

"Let me guess," Donna smiled as they waited by the elevator. "You want to install a waterslide? Or a lazy river, maybe?"

"No—although I was thinking about it, until one of my accountants pointed out that the insurance premiums would be prohibitive. Who knew Gotham had such a high percentage of its population who couldn't swim?" Bruce shook his head at the absurdity of it all.

"Well," Donna pointed out, "there aren't a lot of public pools in the city, and the only substantial body of water in the vicinity is the Gotham River."

Bruce shuddered, and that was no act, either. "Fair enough...somehow I don't think people would be willing to swim in a river where fish haven't lived since 1950. I was thinking, though, maybe if we can get the building wired correctly, we could put a career center in it. And," he added before Donna had a chance to get a word in edgewise, "I was thinking maybe we could talk to the Commissioner about the possibility of opening a branch location of the Gotham City PD nearby."

After a moment's stunned silence, Donna actually burst into disbelieving laughter.

Not certain why, Bruce joined in. "What?"

Donna's mirth continued during the brief elevator ride to the upper floors, and it wasn't until they were standing outside her office door and Donna actually had to focus on unlocking the door that she finally caught her breath. "I'm sorry, Bruce…it's just that…has anyone ever told you 'no'?"

"'No?'" Bruce repeated the word thoughtfully, stretching it out a little bit to hear how it sounded. "I'm not sure I know what that word means. I'm fairly certain that wasn't on any of our vocabulary lists at school." He followed Donna into her office and helped her out of her wool coat, going so far as to hang it behind her door for her. Only after Donna had seated herself at her desk did Bruce sit down as well, and as he did he noted the amusement in her shrewd eyes.

"You may not have learned the meaning of 'no' in school, but they certainly did teach you some manners." Donna clearly approved of this. "I can see why you've charmed Annabeth."

He had been about to spread out the blueprints on Donna's desk, but her deliberately-chosen words drew his attention away from the prints. "Seriously?"

"Don't be coy, Bruce," Donna chided him. "False modesty doesn't suit you. Yes, your persistence in courting Annabeth seems to have paid off; she's been a little ball of almost-happiness lately. If I'd have known that getting laid would make her sweet, I'd have set her up with someone ages ago."

As much to his own amazement as Donna's, a blush stole over Bruce's handsome features. "We haven't…ah…well…" Donna's eyebrows practically popped off her forehead, and he hurried to finish. "We're taking things slow, you see."

Donna did see, more than Bruce had meant to reveal. A look passed between them; each of them was silently probing the other to see how much each one knew. After a moment, Donna turned to her computer and said briskly, "Well, all things considered, that's probably for the best. Annabeth's a bit gun-shy, and she's been through a lot." She looked at him again, and an understanding passed between them. "Tread carefully, Bruce. Women are never easy to handle…but then, I don't think you're a walk in the park either. Annabeth deserves to be happy, even though she does her damndest to avoid it."

"Is this where you tell me to treat her like gold, or you'll kill me?" Bruce meant it as a joke, but it fell flat. Donna frowned.

"I consider Annabeth family," she said slowly. "Annabeth doesn't let many people get close, so when she does, you really should accept it as the profound gesture of trust that it is. None of us want to see her hurt—but pain and hurt are inevitable parts of life, so I won't tell you not to hurt her. But I will tell you that if you don't intend to stick around, you'd better get out now. You've got a reputation, Bruce…" she waited for him to contradict and protest the vindictiveness of paparazzi and slighted socialites, but when Bruce didn't say anything, she continued on. "And maybe it's undeserved. I give you the benefit of the doubt, and Annabeth is giving you her trust. Don't abuse it."

The blunt honesty of Donna's statement required a response along with a similar vein from Bruce, but he didn't reply immediately. Instead, he turned away from Donna's penetrating eyes and allowed himself a moment to marshall his thoughts together. As he did, he thought of Annabeth, recalling how reserved, how cautious she had been when he had first met her, and how she had finally warmed and opened up to him as the weeks had passed. He thought of the emotions she provoked within him, and then he thought of the mystery and the danger surrounding her, and he knew that he couldn't just walk away. Not now—not yet. "Annabeth is a gem," he said quietly, "and I want to keep seeing her. I want to see where this goes."

It was a simple statement, not particularly reassuring, but it was enough for Donna, who nodded. "I think you're good for her, you know? She's far too serious. She needs more fun, and you seem to bring that to her."

The serious aspect of their conversation had passed, for which Bruce was quite grateful. So much of his life was based around dissembling and deception, but it didn't mean that he enjoyed it. "Speaking of, where is Annabeth?" He checked his watch. "Isn't she usually here by now?"

"Usually," Donna agreed. "Sorry to disappoint you, Romeo, but she's coming in late today, on my orders. She was here until ten last night, and ten bucks says that once she got home, she was awake for another five hours."

"Have things been crazy around here?" Bruce asked casually, trying very hard to hide his interest. Donna must have been fooled, because her answer was equally off-handed.

"New client came in recently, when I was taking an admin day. Annabeth processed her, and now the girl won't talk to anyone but Annabeth. She's a hard one—young, and good god, the mouth on her!"

"Sounds like a handful."

"God, you have no idea. She's just a kid, after all, and she must have been through something rough. Annabeth's counseling her, and that's why she was here late last night. Anyway, she'll be in later…" Donna flicked her eyes over at Bruce. "So you'll have to find some other way to keep yourself busy until she shows up. Judging by those blueprints, you'll not be bored."

"No, he won't," a new voice chimed in. Bruce turned around to see Annabeth standing in the doorway, looking much the worse for wear. Despite her bedraggled appearance, however, she offered both her boss and Bruce a genuine smile. "Good morning."

"Annabeth." Donna's voice sounded sharp and loud in the small office. "You should be at home, sleeping. I told you not to come in until after lunch."

As was so often the case, sleep had not come to Annabeth, and everyone in the room knew it. Annabeth didn't even bother to explain herself; merely shrugged and tried to look blasé about it. "No matter. I figured I may as well come in and get some work done, see how the new girl is doing."

"Quiet, thank god," Donna told her. "I don't know why she's so attached to you, but I guess you're doing something right." The two women smiled at each other; both knew that Donna had long ago learned Annabeth's value. "But christ, Annabeth, you're working too damned much. You're killing yourself." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bruce nodding fervently in agreement, and then she noticed that he had casually placed his hand on the copy of the Gazette he had brought in that morning. Donna had already read it, but had brought in her own copy specifically to tease Annabeth with it. And here was Bruce, trying to remind her. "As it happens, it does sound like you're going to be taking some vacation time, though, aren't you?"

"Eh?" Annabeth looked blankly at Donna, and then at Bruce, who smiled knowingly. "What are you talking about?" Her confusion grew as Donna and Bruce began to look conspiratorial. "I'm not going on any vacations."

"Good thing there's always the Gazette to help her keep her schedule straight," Donna muttered to Bruce. "Didn't you read the paper today, Annabeth?" She picked up the newspaper and waved it gleefully.

Annabeth looked disgusted. "I'm boycotting the Gazette. It's nothing more than a waste of trees."

Donna passed the paper to Bruce, who reached over and offered it to Annabeth. With visible reluctance, she accepted it, but not before giving him a look meant for him alone. It was a shy look, but one that clearly told him she was happy to see him. He almost wanted to take back the Gazette after she read it,because that look certainly wouldn't be lingering for long. Bruce and Donna watched, he in apprehension and she with barely suppressed glee, as she read the society section, her brow furrowed in confusion. And then—

"Oh, shit!" she blurted, and there was such dismay in her voice that both Bruce and Donna couldn't help but to laugh.

"Sounds like you're taking a long weekend, Annabeth," Donna chortled. "It's about time, too. But why didn't you tell me sooner? Now I've got to re-arrange the coverage."

"I'm sorry," Annabeth apologized, and she knew she'd probably be saying that all day. "I completely forgot—Elisa asked me ages ago, I think—I can't even remember when…" But then she did remember: at the last fundraiser, when she had been so annoyed and annoying, and had tippled more champagne than any decent woman should have a right to. "Ah…well, it seemed like a good idea at the time."

The expression of guilt that crept into Annabeth's face was one Donna had long ago learned to recognize, and she nodded sagely. "Annabeth, the best advice I can give you is this: when you're drinking, and you think something seems like a good idea, it's probablya very bad idea."

That moment appeared to be a good time for Bruce to add his two cents' worth. "It's not a bad idea," he told them, "except for the part where you forgot. How much did you have to drink that night? No, don't answer that. Anyway, never mind. You'll have a great time! And Elisa's really excited to have you attend the wedding, she's got so few people representing her as it is. Don't back out, Annabeth…if you don't come, I'm going to be mauled and compromised by every single woman there."

"I don't think Annabeth's presence will do much to prevent that from happening," Donna interjected. "But I think you should go, Annabeth. You need a break."

The three of them had been at this routine long enough for Annabeth to anticipate the outcome; Donna and Bruce would take turns wheedling, coaxing, and guilting her, and she would eventually capitulate. No doubt she'd save a great deal of time if she just acquiesced more readily, so Annabeth shrugged. "Okay, fine. I'll go." With some relish, she watched the surprise cross their faces, but Bruce, at least recovered quickly.

"Great." He actually seemed to bounce in his seat for a moment. "You can ride up with Alfred and me. We leave first thing Friday morning."

"You and your butler?" Donna couldn't resist questioning.

"Alfred goes everywhere with me, if I can help it." Bruce said seriously. "He's like a security blanket."

The bemusement on Donna's face was a sight to behold, but Annabeth had no time for that. "What do I need to bring to this…thing, this house party? A tea-gown? Jodphurs and boots?" A look of terror crossed her features. "There won't be horseback riding, will there?"

Bruce considered for a moment. "Maybe, but it's not mandatory. Tell you what: why don't you join me for lunch today? I'm taking Elisa out, to get her mind off the wedding. She'd love to see you, and you can get a better idea of what all you should expect."

By her hesitation, both Donna and Bruce could tell that Annabeth was struggling to find a way to turn his invitation down. No matter how much she was coming to care for Bruce, Annabeth was first and foremost a neurotic workaholic, and they just knew that she was contemplating all the work that she could do, holed up in her office and safely away from the distractions that Bruce seemed so happy to throw in her path at every opportunity.

To avoid that likelihood, Donna didn't give her a chance to answer. "Annabeth, go to lunch with Bruce. Otherwise you probably won't eat until five o'clock this evening. And I'll overlook the fact that you disregarded my orders to come in later." She smiled triumphantly, and even Bruce looked smug. Annabeth pulled a face at both of them. "Do you two always join forces to best me?"

Donna decided it was time to shoo them both from her office; she needed to get real work done and spend less time facilitating the love life of her best—but most emotionally-stunted—employee. "Not to best you. Just to annoy you. Now, both of you, leave. Bruce, why don't you spend the rest of the morning telling Annabeth how, exactly, you propose we bring a police branch into the Narrows?"

Shortly after noon on that same day, the sleek, silver Rolls-Royce glided to a smooth stop in front of Safe Haven, pulling neatly into a spot on the curb that always seem to appear through magic or luck when one got behind the wheels of such a luxury vehicle. Alfred had arrived to pick up Bruce and Annabeth, but they had not yet emerged from the building, and so, Alfred had nothing to do but wait. He had long ago honed this talent down to an art form, and so letting the car idle and his mind drift was no trying task. There was always more work to be done. Just earlier that morning, Lucius Fox had couriered over a package containing extensive documents, ready for them to peruse, and the package now sat on the slick leather passenger seat, offering Alfred a silent rebuke for his wool-gathering. Today, however, Alfred would not be guilted into immediately investigating; today he felt a contemplative mood approaching, and he was willing to indulge in it. And so he sat, quietly, thoughtfully, gazing out the tinted, bullet-proof glass windows at the surroundings beyond the vehicle.

It was a quintessential Gotham scene-improbable prosperity abutting heart-rending poverty. Safe Haven was merely one thriving building on a street of many, each housing homes and businesses in older, elegant, slightly-worn looking brownstones. There was money here, and endurance, and gentility, as evidenced by the well-maintained sidewalks and buildings, the brass fixtures, the gleaming windows, the window boxes—now barren—which held brilliantly-colored flowers in the springtime. But even here, on these well-manicured sidewalks, there was poverty; from where he sat, Alfred could see three people up and down the street, obviously homeless, staring out through eyes dulled by hopelessness and the casual rejection of a largely indifferent society.

In fact, just right by the Rolls, directly in front of Safe Haven, was one such person, sitting very quietly on a bench. At first, Alfred had a difficult time even discerning the person's gender, but after a moment's intense scrutiny, he was able to ascertain that it was a man. What really caught Alfred's attention was the activity in which the man was currently engaged-he was shuffling through a handful of photographs, pausing a moment to look at each one before moving on to the next. The quiet poignancy of it twisted Alfred's heart; it reminded him that this man, too, was a human, just like Alfred, that he, too, had had some sort of life, perhaps a very happy life, before his current homeless state. Who was this man? How had he come to be here? There had to be someone, somewhere, who cared about him. Perhaps the people in those pictures wondered where he was now...it was so easy to turn the homeless into something "other", something completely dehumanized and irrelevant, and here was the only proof one needed to know that they were more than their current circumstances reflected. But who bothered to see through that?

Just as Alfred had made the decision to exit the car and speak to the man, he saw Bruce and Annabeth emerge from Safe Haven. They hurried down the steps to the street, and as they did, Bruce leaned in and said something to Annabeth—no doubt something casual, flippant, or unexpectedly charming—that made her smile up at him, and the look with which she regarded Bruce revealed to Alfred just how strongly Annabeth felt about him. There was a sparkle in her eyes that was quite new, and which positively lit up her normally stern, worried features. Just then, both of them appeared to laugh, and at the same time, a blast of cold wind brought a volley of dead brown leaves rattling down the street towards them. Bruce paused for a moment to carefully tighten the scarf that was draped about Annabeth's neck, and then they continued down the steps, approaching both the car and the homeless man sitting right by it.

Instinctively, Bruce paused, knowing Annabeth would do the same, and with consummate tact, he hung back and observed as she knelt down beside the man. They spoke for just a moment, but it was a long enough moment for Annabeth to hand the man a business card, and after glancing at the cloudy sky and noting the rising wind, unwind the scarf Bruce had so recently adjusted. She placed the scarf around the man's shoulders, and with a final smile, rejoined Bruce's side. So absorbed had Annabeth been in tending to the man, she didn't notice the thoughtful look on Bruce's face.

Outside, another arctic cold front approached, one that would chase away all remnants of autumn, but inside the dark, regal British pub to which Bruce had brought Annabeth, all was warm and cozy. A sour-faced waitress had seated them in a tiny table close to the massive fireplace, and Annabeth was grateful for the warmth that the crackling blaze provided. As they waited for Elisa and Bradford to arrive, Annabeth studied her surroundings and Bruce studied Annabeth. She gazed about, her eyes bright with curiosity as she examined the paneled walls lined with vintage British war propaganda and various photographs of royal personages. The cold wind had brought some color into her normally pale cheeks, and Bruce found her appearance charming and distracting. Even more distracting than her appearance, however, was the propaganda poster underneath which Annabeth had unknowingly seated herself: it bore a fancily-dressed skull and warned that"The easy girlfriend spreads syphilis and gonorrhea, which unless properly treated may result in blindness, insanity, paralysis, premature death."

Bruce silently prayed that the poster would not come to her attention.

"Why isn't Alfred joining us?" Annabeth asked suddenly. She looked over at the Englishman, discreetly seated a few tables over, along with a large pile of papers. "And what on earth is he reading?"

"Uuuuuh...Alfred helps out with the business. He has work to do...and he likes to maintain a discreet distance." Bruce waved his hand dismissively. "It's some weird British thing that he does. He explained it once, but I wasn't listening."

Well, at least he's honest about it, Annabeth thought to herself. Since meeting Bruce, she had come to discover a deeper side of him, but she knew the flippant, casual playboy was still there, and emerged from time to time. She was coming to accept, if not understand, just as he was likely coming to accept her own prickly personality.

The pub doors swung open, and along with a blast of chilly air, tiny Elisa and beefy Bradford swept into the pub. After a moment in which their eyes adjusted to the dim light, Elisa caught sight of them and made a beeline for their table, Bradford ambling more sedately behind. "Bruce!" Elisa exclaimed as she launched herself onto him, not giving him a chance to rise from his seat before she hugged him. "Thank god you invited us out! Bradford's mother was trying to talk me into a sushi bar at the reception!"

Laughing, Bruce returned the hug, feeling Elisa's wiry energy in her muscular arms. "There's still a few days left...sure you want to go through with this?" He winked at Bradford, who grinned good-naturedly as he seated himself at their tiny table.

Elisa sat down, too, giving Bradford a private, almost worshipful look as she did. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

Watching Elisa and Bradford interact was a soothing thing for Annabeth; in her personal life and in her profession, she had seen so few functional, healthy relationships that it was easy to forget that such a thing did exist. But here, with this couple, there was a reminder: Bradford and Elisa had forged a substantial partnership based on mutual interests and sympathies, and were obviously well-matched in personalities and temperaments. And they loved each other, deeply and profoundly and perhaps even spiritually; it was evident in every look and exchange that passed between them.

The first time Annabeth observed it, just as Bradford said something inane and goofy and Elisa had laughed and squeezed his hand in response, it almost took her breath away. She hadn't expected to be confronted with such beauty on a mundane weekday afternoon, and so wasn't prepared for its profundity. She almost wanted to weep at the unexpected joy, and then with grief at the absence of it in her own life. But then she caught Bruce throwing her a look of curiosity, and re-arranged her expression into one of bland pleasantness. Damned if she'd let Bruce Wayne see what a sap she was becoming! Besides, to hear her girlfriends tell of it, the second she displayed an ounce of serious sentimentality, he'd do a runner. Of course, Bruce Wayne seemed to enjoy defying all of her expectations.

The unsmiling waitress returned to take their drink orders, and whatever the woman's personality lacked, she made up for in efficiency: soon Bruce and Bradford were each served with a lager, Elisa with a cider, and Annabeth with a cup of tea. As she took careful, slow sips of her piping-hot tea, Annabeth listened to Elisa and Bradford go on about the wedding preparations, and watched as Bruce listened with a faintly amused air, for Bradford was the one who was genuinely excited about it, and Elisa merely resigned.

"About three hundred for the wedding on Sunday," Bradford was saying. "And most of them will just be coming in for the wedding, but there'll be about twenty-five or so who'll be there for the whole weekend."

"Still don't know why your mother's insisting on a country-house party," Elisa interjected. "It seems so...silly. Formal dinners and high teas and god only knows what else. It's not England, you know."

"Don't tell my mother that," Bradford grinned good-naturedly. All his life he had been accustomed to being shuffled and ordered about by strong-willed women; first his mother, and now he was changing his allegiance to Elisa. It was what he knew, and what he was most comfortable with. "She likes to fancy she's good old-fashioned aristocracy. As if planning the wedding weren't enough, she's spent the last ten days making sure the house is cleaned, ordering in more food, hiring extra help, planning dinners, making sure there are enough bedrooms for all the weekend guests she's invited."

The word "bedrooms" gave Annabeth pause; oh, dear, she thought with a vague sense of alarm. How did I not see this coming?

Seeing Annabeth's suddenly worried expression and completely misinterpreting the reason for it, Elisa hastened to reassure her. "Oh, don't worry, we made sure there would be enough room for you and Bruce! We're giving you two one of the nicest bedrooms!"

"Two, please."

Three pairs of eyes turned their focus to Bruce; a few tables over, Alfred had turned his attention towards Bruce, as well. Bruce sat there, calmly, not giving any indication that his request was at all out of the ordinary. Annabeth, particularly, looked nonplussed; Elisa startled; Bradford merely bemused.

Elisa recovered first. "Pardon?"

"Two bedrooms, if it's at all possible." Bruce smiled apologetically. "I suppose it's making more work for all of you, but I really must insist. I'm an old-fashioned guy, and I believe in at least the appearance of propriety."

Bradford had been in the moment of taking a hefty swig of lager, but at this comment from Bruce, he promptly snorted with suppressed laughter, choked, and spat his lager back into his glass. Meanwhile, it was clear that Elisa was uncertain as to whether or not Bruce was joking. "I don't think you need to worry about keeping up appearances...this is a fairly modern crowd coming this weekend, and you won't be the only unmarried couple."

Bruce shrugged. "All the same, I think it's best this way." Almost casually, he stretched out his hand and placed it on top of Annabeth's, giving it one firm, reassuring squeeze. It did nothing to smooth down her tangle of thoughts, but it at least reminded her that Bruce had his own set of social graces. She was fairly certain he had anticipated the question of bedrooms and directed it in such a way that she would feel no pressure or questions about his intentions for the weekend.

To alleviate the awkwardness, she attempted to redirect the conversation into less murky waters. "Care to give me an idea about what I should wear this weekend?"

Eagerly, Elisa seized upon this opportunity. "Well, do you have any parkas? It's a beautiful house, but it's really old, and it's not like there's any central heating..."

It had started off as one of the stranger lunches Annabeth had ever attended, but developed and ended up normally enough. After Bruce and Alfred dropped her back off at Safe Haven, Annabeth immediately retired to the solitude of her office, where she could reflect upon the lunch in peace. This was not to be, however, for as she slung her coat over her chair, she caught a glimpse of the stack of mail that Maya had placed on her desk. Underneath a couple of bills, she saw the tattered edge of a post card, and with an unhappy sense of recognition, she tugged the post card out of the pile and stared at the ominous handwriting.

Within seconds, Annabeth was dialing Commissioner Gordon's number, her hands shaking as she did. When she heard his reassuring, steady voice answer on the second ring, she allowed herself a tiny sigh of relief. "I think I've got some information you might like, Commissioner," she heard herself saying, and marveled at her calm voice. "I think we have a mutual friend who will want to know about this."