"Remember all the times that we used to play?
You were lost and I would save you.
I don't think those feelings will ever fade.
You were born a part of me.
I was never good at hiding anything;
My thoughts break me—
Do you understand what you mean to me?"
"Cure My Tragedy" –Cold
Chapter Twenty-Six:
Margot woke alone.
At first, she wasn't quite sure where she was, then she recognized the room as a part of Wayne Manor. Thinking that it was her room, she was confused when she saw the waistcoat draped over the back of a chair, the buttons carefully sewn back on.
That's when she realized that she was in Alfred's room, naked, wrapped in sheets that still smelled faintly of sex. So it hadn't been one of those strange, drunken dreams. She lay quietly for a few moments, watching little particles of dust waft through a ray of sunlight that slipped through the drapes and illuminated the end of the bed. The clock on the nightstand read 8:03. She hadn't even noticed Alfred rise.
She didn't want to leave, despite the fact that she was alone and it was well past time to get up. She stared up at the ceiling, clenching the sheets in both hands, holding them up to her chin, going over every detail of the previous night.
God, it had been so perfect.
And it was over.
She rose reluctantly, gathering her things and pulling on her clothes long enough to make her way down the corridor to her room, where she showered and prepared for the day.
She'd be late for work, but she figured she had an excuse. Not that it had deterred Alfred, she noted. He'd probably been up for hours already.
Margot went down to the kitchen, where she found Bruce sitting at the table, staring with unnerving determination at his hands, which were clasped in front of him.
"What's up?" she inquired as she plucked an apple from a bowl of fruit.
The boy hardly glanced at her. "Nothing," he replied with a moody glower.
She got the impression that something had happened to upset the boy. She hoped it wasn't their awkward encounter last night. Margot wondered, but she wasn't about to bring it up.
Instead, she asked, "Where's Alfred?"
He scoffed. "Outside."
Well, at least she knew who Bruce was irritated at, though she didn't know why.
"Something wrong?"
Bruce glanced up at her, letting his dark expression fade a little. "No," he reassured her.
Margot hesitated, but she didn't press the matter. She left, finishing her apple as she made her way out to the shed to check the schedule. As she walked, she caught sight of a figure down by the pond. Alfred.
Frowning curiously, she approached and watched quietly as the man raked the muck out of the shallows. He seemed quite involved in it, working with an intensity that was unusual even for him. There was a second rake on the ground beside him.
"You know I was going to get around to that eventually," she commented from behind.
He jumped, startled, and whirled on her. "Don't bloody do that!" he exclaimed, though a faint smile crossed his face as she came nearer. "You nearly gave me a heart attack," he added in a quieter voice.
She reached for the rake in his hands and slowly pulled it out of his grasp. "Why are you doing my job?"
"Well, I…" he frowned a little as he searched for a reason. "…I thought Master Bruce and I would give you a hand this morning."
"Is that why he's inside sulking?"
The frown deepened, and Alfred shook his head. "No. He's sulking because he thinks he can get information out of Miss St. Cloud, and I have expressly forbidden him from seeing her."
Margot's brow rose, and she couldn't help but tease the man. "Alfred," she murmured, moving a little closer. "Forbidden? You sound so forceful. I like it."
"Stop it, will you?" he retorted, but she noticed the ends of his ears turn pink.
She just laughed and pointed out, "You know that forbidding a boy like Bruce is only going to make him more determined. He'll probably try to sneak out to see her later."
"You think I don't know that?" Alfred reached into his pocket and pulled something from it. A hotel key. Dangling it in front of Margot with a smile, he smugly replied, "I lifted this off him when he wasn't looking. He's not going anywhere." He paused, pleased with himself, and then picked up the second rake. "And neither are you," he added. "Help me do your job, will you?"
Margot just flicked muck onto his shoes.
Alfred disappeared after lunch, and Margot didn't see him again until late that evening, when he stopped by her room.
She was working on a few sketches for the hydrangea plot, which was still empty. It wouldn't be difficult at all to turn into a small rose garden, and she'd been planning on surprising Alfred. Hearing the knock, she barely had time to stow her sketchbook and her markers under the bed before the door opened.
"Yes?" she inquired.
Alfred took a hesitant step into the room. "Just checking to see if you required anything," he said with a small smile.
Right, thought Margot to herself, though she felt relieved to see the man there, waiting for an invitation to join her. All day she'd been distracted with worries that last night had been a fling, a fluke, never to be repeated. She'd never been happier to be wrong.
She smiled and teased, "Something hot would be nice. Tea, maybe?"
The man saw her amused expression and took it as the invitation he'd been waiting for. "Oh, I'll give you something hot, I will," he retorted as he crossed the room.
He sat on the edge of her bed and leaned in to kiss her.
She knew he hadn't come for conversation, but she couldn't keep from asking, "How's Bruce?"
Alfred's lips brushed her jaw and he held her by the shoulders as he slowly started to drag his mouth down her throat. "Sulking in his room," he murmured against her skin. "I caught him trying to take a taxi into the city."
"He's resourceful, but not very stealthy," she observed.
"I keep telling him. He doesn't have a deceitful bone in his body."
"That's not necessarily bad."
"I know it." Alfred sighed and pulled back a bit, regarding Margot wearily. "I only wish he didn't insist on learning such things."
She met his gaze, cupped the side of his face in a hand, and gently pressed her lips to the end of his nose. "He'll be all right," she whispered. "He has you."
Alfred smiled. "Yes. And I have you." His hands slipped down to her waist, where he unbuckled her belt and tried to work the buttons of her pants loose. "At least I will have you," he growled, "if I ever get these bloody trousers off you."
Margot decided she wanted pancakes for lunch the next day. Alfred had left to take Bruce to school and run a few errands, and she was pleased to have the house to herself for a bit.
Of course, Alfred eventually returned, coming down to the kitchen to ask her if she'd help carry in the groceries. He seemed intrigued when he found her at the stove.
Greeting her with a quick kiss, he set his armful of groceries on the table and inquired curiously, "What made you decide to be so domestic today?"
She shrugged. "I felt like pancakes."
"For lunch?"
"Don't judge me," she retorted. "Did you get the syrup I asked you for?"
"Yes," replied the man as he went through the bags. "It's out in the car." Turning to face her, he pointed out, "You realize that I could just make you syrup."
"I like the cheap stuff," she informed him, sliding the last pancake from the pan and turning off the stove. "I'll be back."
She ran out to the car and returned with a few bags of groceries, letting Alfred put everything away while she spread peanut butter and syrup on her pancakes and sat down to eat.
"You know," the man commented as he made room in the refrigerator for a few paper-wrapped packages of meat, "Bruce told me he has fencing practice after school this afternoon. Which means he'll be staying late." He glanced over his shoulder at Margot to gauge her reaction.
She didn't react.
Turning to her, he continued suggestively, "I'd say that gives us an extra hour…"
"Good. I need a hand fertilizing the lawns today."
Alfred frowned and took a step back. "You what? Margot, don't even joke about that."
She took a bite of pancake and looked up at him with raised eyebrows. "I wasn't joking."
The man's face fell a little, but when the time came, he dutifully followed Margot outside. She appreciated the company and the help. Fertilizing the lawns was long, boring work, but with Alfred, it was just a little more tolerable.
"When do you have to get Bruce?" she asked after couple of hours.
Alfred wiped his hands on his apron and checked his pocket watch. "In about an hour. Why?"
"You should probably go wash up then. You look like shit."
He glanced down at himself, saw the fertilizer that dusted him from head to toe, and chuckled. "Literally." Looking back up at her, he added invitingly, "Come with me."
"I still have work to do," she informed him. "You of all people should understand that. You never take a night off."
Alfred sighed, unable to argue. "Are you sure you don't want to join me?" He moved closer and murmured, "A hot shower…we'll pick up Bruce…go out to dinner, perhaps…a hot shower?"
"You said 'hot shower' twice," she pointed out.
"I know," he replied with a smile, adding with a soft growl, "We may need three hot showers before I'm done with you."
Margot did, in fact, want to do all of those things, but she had other plans. "Go," she told him with a laugh, pushing him gently but firmly away. "I'll see you when you get back."
"We're going to have a word about your work ethic when I return," he retorted as he turned to leave.
He seemed a little pleased, though, as he walked away, impressed by Margot's dedication to her work. Except it wasn't her work ethic that kept her from accepting the man's invitation.
She was over on the west side of the grounds when she saw him leave to fetch Bruce. As soon as he was gone, she hurriedly finished fertilizing the patch of lawn that she had been working on before making her way back to the shed.
It was locked up—she hadn't let anyone inside over the past couple of days. Opening the door, she smiled when she saw the rose plants she'd purchased, sitting undisturbed in their pots. She'd spent the morning digging holes for them while Alfred had been away on errands, and now she figured she had about an hour to plant them.
There were only five plants—it was just a small start, a bit of a surprise to let him know that she hadn't forgotten. She hoped to take him to a nursery later, to let him choose his own plants. These particular bushes were all heirloom roses, classics like lavender lassies and a couple of varieties of polyanthas.
Margot had them all planted long before Alfred returned. In fact, she started to worry when it began to grow dark and he still hadn't come back. She was on her way back towards the manor when she saw one of the cars suddenly leave the garage and speed towards the main road.
Frowning, she hurried inside, only to find Bruce sitting alone in the study.
"When did you get back?" she asked in surprise. "Where's Alfred?"
The boy's eyebrows knit together with worry. "He's not here?"
She shook her head.
Bruce tried not to seem too concerned as he murmured, "He's probably out looking for me."
"You didn't come home with him? Who left just now?"
"Selina," Bruce explained distractedly. "I'm sure Alfred's fine. I'll call him now."
She nodded, watching as he fumbled for his phone. A thought suddenly struck her. "Wait, Selina took one of the cars? She's what, fourteen?"
Bruce hushed her as he dialed and waited, his face growing increasingly troubled as the seconds passed and Alfred didn't answer. Frowning, Bruce tried again, only to be sent to voicemail a second time.
"He's not answering," he said quietly.
Margot started to feel nervous. If Alfred was out looking for Bruce, he should have answered the boy's calls. Something was wrong.
"I'm going to look for him," she told Bruce.
He stood. "I'll come too."
"No," she said with a shake of her head. "Stay here in case he returns."
Bruce nodded, sitting reluctantly. "All right."
"Call me if he comes back."
With that, Margot left, making her way straight towards her bike. She'd just straddled it and was about to slide her helmet on when she heard the sound of a soft footstep scuff the pavement. Whirling around, she saw a dark figure that lunged at her with surprising speed.
Margot leapt from her bike and tumbled over the ground, getting quickly to her feet and facing the figure. Except there were two of them now, both of them brandishing knives at her. They wore strange dark robes with cowls that masked their faces.
The robes should have hindered them, made them easier to fight off, but they were quick, quicker than her. One of them seemed to notice that she favored her leg as she dodged their attacks, and he suddenly lashed out with a swift kick that struck her directly in the knee. She crumpled to the ground with a cry, holding her leg.
A knife flashed in the dim yellow light from the lamps, and she raised her arm to defend herself, feeling steel bite into her arm. Another blow struck her in the ribs, and she felt the air go out of her. She folded in on herself, gasping, feeling blood on her fingers as she held her side. She'd been stabbed.
God, Bruce was inside.
Struggling to rise, Margot pulled herself up, putting herself between the two figures and the doorway. One lunged at her, and she dodged, grabbing his robe as he passed and using his momentum to fling him into the shrubbery. Light exploded in her vision as she moved, and she staggered for a moment, blinded by the agony in her side. The other figure lashed out, his knife coming towards her. She barely managed to avoid the blow, catching him by the wrist and twisting. The knife fell from his hand and she kicked it away before he freed himself. She kept herself between the man and the door, her eyes not leaving him.
She heard a sudden rustle in the shrubbery, and before she could turn, something hard connected with the back of her head.
Margot fell to the ground, her vision swimming as the figures stepped over her and entered the house, followed by a third man, wearing particularly expensive shoes.
"Troublesome little bitch," said the man as everything slowly went dark.
Well, it would seem that we've pretty much caught up with the first half of Season Two. Hope you've enjoyed it so far!