I apologize for the long hiatus. Hopefully I'll be able to post more frequently now, but I can't promise anything. Here's a thank you though for sticking it out with me to this point. Hope you enjoy!

"And so they say lord, for everything a reason,
For every ending a new beginning.
Oh so they say baby, for everything a reason…
And those who loved before will be brought back together,
Yeah those who loved before will be brought back together.
And so they say baby, for everything a reason,
And so they say baby you will be brought back to me."

"For Everything a Reason" –Carina Round

Chapter Forty-Six:

Margot prowled the corridors, checking the windows, the doors, looking for signs of entry at first. After several hours, though, she had to admit that it was more out of restlessness than usefulness. She couldn't simply sit around and wait, especially not when there was no indication of how the kidnapper had even gotten past the security system in the first place.

She paced towards the entryway for the seventeenth time that night, blinking the sting out of her tired eyes. An antique grandfather clock chimed from somewhere nearby, the time echoing throughout the silent house. Four o'clock.

Finally, she reached the security pad and took yet another look at it. She was baffled, not just by the ridiculous number of tiny buttons, but by the fact that someone had managed to sneak through security. Every window, every doorway, every entrance and exit to and from the manor was covered.

Mostly, though, Margot was surprised that she found it so surprising. Of course somebody had figured out a way to get through the security. This was Gotham, after all, and confronting a clandestine group of powerful people was not a safe move.

She sighed and rubbed her eyes. It was nearly morning. If Bruce didn't return soon, they'd be calling the police.

Turning away, Margot had hardly taken two steps when a shrill alarm pierced the silence. She clapped her hands over her ears and hurried back to the security pad, punching buttons at random to get the noise to stop.

Soon she heard running footsteps approach, and Alfred was suddenly there, moving her aside and punching in the code.

"You all right?" he asked once the alarm had successfully been shut off.

"Yeah. I must have accidentally tripped it."

"I gave you the code," he pointed out.

"Right, and I'm supposed to be able to string a list of random numbers together with that racket going on," she retorted.

Alfred shook his head and sighed, "Damn it, Margot, you nearly gave me a bloody heart attack."

Scowling for a moment longer, Margot let her shoulders fall, and she shook her head too. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Reaching for her, Alfred pulled her closer and held her in a tight embrace. "It's all right." Even as he reassured her, she could feel him shaking, either from exhaustion or worry or both.

"I hate this," she grumbled into his shoulder.

"Yeah," he agreed, "So do I." He loosened his grip on her and reached for his fob watch, checking the time. "It's nearly morning," he noted. "Seems to me we should call the police." He sounded reluctant to say it, like he didn't want to give up hope. He probably didn't even want to fathom the idea that Bruce could be hurt—that he might not return at all.

Margot was quiet.

"I'll do it," Alfred suggested after a moment. "Why don't you make us a cup of tea?"

"You and your tea," she scoffed weakly.

"You'd be surprised by its soothing and restorative properties," Alfred replied knowingly.

"I find whiskey soothing and restorative," she retorted.

It was his turn to scoff. "At this point, you'd likely drink the entire bottle and find yourself retching in the bathroom. How would that look to the police?"

"Tea, then," she growled.

She'd only just put water in the kettle when she heard Alfred calling to her from the study. His voice barely reached the kitchen; she thought she'd imagined it at first. But then she heard her name called again, more urgent the second time.

She barely remembered to turn off the stove before she went running to the study. There she found Alfred, crouched beside one of the sofas, with Bruce tightly ensconced in his arms.

"My God—!" she gasped, hurrying forward. "Bruce! Where have you been?"

The young man stood, shaking as he ran his hands through his hair. He was obviously distressed. "I saw them," he whispered. "I spoke to them."

Alfred exchanged a worried look with Margot. "And?" he prompted.

"It worked." He turned, his face twisted with an anguish that didn't seem to match what he was saying. "They agreed."

Margot frowned. Shouldn't they be celebrating? Why did Bruce seem so upset?

Alfred also seemed confused. "What, just—just like that? I mean, you talked about the stuff that we talked about, right?"

"Yes. But I had to promise not to investigate them anymore. Not Indian Hill, not the corruption within my company, not my parents' murder."

Suddenly it made sense, Bruce's distress. For over two years, he'd dedicated himself to uncovering the truth. Even when she'd first seen him huddled on that bench in the rain, when the murder was still fresh, Margot had noticed a sharp gleam in his eyes, a need for the truth, a need for justice. He'd risked everything to learn the truth, and now he was being told to let it go?

Sure, it meant he'd be safe. They'd all be safer. But she and Alfred had both dedicated and rededicated themselves to Bruce's cause, despite the danger. They were prepared to face the consequences. What would his consequence be if he suddenly just gave up?

Alfred struggled to find words. Margot could see the same battle going on within him. Part of him was pleased, and he didn't hide it well. She knew he cared for the boy's safety more than anything. But part of him also understood that Bruce couldn't live a simple, safe life. Part of him wondered if he could give up his search for the truth.

"I see," he finally said, staring at the floor.

Bruce could tell the man struggling to comprehend his decision. "Alfred, it was the only way," he said, stepping forward.

Hearing the pain in the boy's voice, Alfred looked up and met his gaze. He placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly, drawing the boy nearer. Realization was dawning in his eyes. "You weren't the only one they threatened, were you? Hey?" His gaze flickered to Margot.

She inhaled sharply. So that was it. It made sense, suddenly. Of course Bruce wouldn't promise to give up his search, not even if it meant risking his life. But there were people that were dear to him, Alfred most of all.

Bruce drew back, looking away. "No."

There was a long silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire, which seemed uncomfortably loud.

"Do you intend on keeping your word?" asked Alfred, piercing Bruce with his stern blue gaze.

Bruce hesitated. He was trembling noticeably. "Yes," he finally whispered. "I do."

Margot saw the tenderness in Alfred's face as he looked at the boy. She could tell he wanted nothing more than to pull Bruce into a tight embrace, but he refrained. In a way, it was better, a show of his quiet approval. Bruce wasn't a child in need of comforting anymore. He was a young man, capable of making wise decisions, capable of sacrificing his needs for others. But there was still pain in Alfred's eyes as he watched the young man come to terms with what his decision meant.

After a moment, Alfred spoke, voicing his concerns. "And how do you know they will keep their word?"

Bruce looked at him as if he couldn't even fathom the idea.

"They'd better," Margot interjected from her place across the room. She had to resist the urge to crack her knuckles like some stereotypical heavy. The "or else" tone in her voice hung in the air.

"Well," Alfred said, "That's that then." He touched Bruce's shoulder, waiting for the boy to look up before offering him a comforting smile. "We'll worry about that when the time comes. Margot was just about to make tea. How about a cuppa?"

Bruce nodded numbly.

"Maybe you should make it," Margot muttered to Alfred as they made their way to the kitchen. "You do it best."

He raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm British?"

"Because you've been doing it longer, you ass," she retorted.

They were teasing each other, but there was a strained tone underneath their words. They were both preoccupied by the question that hung unanswered. What would Bruce do now that he'd given up the investigation that had once given him purpose?

Margot went to bed early that night, with the excuse that she was tired, but she couldn't sleep. It wasn't Bruce's decision that had her worried, though. He seemed to be coming around to it slowly. She rolled over and pulled her ring from the drawer, rolling it between her fingers.

Before, it had been a symbol of everything that made her happy. Alfred, a family, a home, a sense of belonging. Now it filled her with dread. What had she done? Who knew?

She wanted to tell Alfred, but she was afraid of involving him, especially now that Bruce had finally decided to step out of the shady world of threats and investigations. It could all amount to nothing, after all. What if they were just trying to scare her? Whoever wrote the note could just be using her fear to get to Bruce. She wouldn't be surprised if she was just another pawn in this game between him and those secretive people who seemed to want to stop him.

There wasn't much she could do about it anyway. She could only wait and see if they tried to contact her again.

Still, she didn't want to be alone.

Rising, she made her way to Alfred's rooms. The door was closed, but she saw light through the crack beneath the door, so she knocked. A moment later, the door opened, and Alfred frowned slightly.

"Margot, why aren't you asleep? It's late. You went to bed hours ago."

"I can't sleep," she said. Sighing, she added, "I don't want to be alone."

The man regarded her calmly, almost coolly. "I thought you wanted space," he reminded her.

She saw the hurt he was trying to hide. Of course. In her distress, she'd almost forgotten that he was still miffed at her for wanting to slow things down. "I don't," she told him. "I just… I'm worried, and I'm trying so hard to be a good person, but—" she trailed off, biting back her emotions before she lost control of them. She'd almost told him about the letter, about the ring, even though she'd decided not to until something more concrete showed up.

He looked at her thoughtfully, a bit of the cool edge disappearing from his gaze, turning to concern instead. "What makes you think you're not a good person?" he inquired softly.

She shook her head and hastily searched for something she could say that made sense. She finally decided on the truth, minus the details about the ring and the letter. "I just keep worrying about those days I was gone. What if I did something terrible? I know it doesn't make sense, but I panic every time I think about it. I feel like I need to figure it out."

"Margot," Alfred murmured, taking her by the shoulders. "It's not healthy for you to obsess over something like that." He sighed and added, "Maybe it shouldn't be figured out. There could be a reason you don't recall a thing."

"That's what I'm afraid of," she whispered in a small voice.

His expression softened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. She breathed in the scent of his cologne, burying her face in his shirt. He was warm and strong.

"Maybe you were right," he said after a moment, pulling back to look her in the eye. "I've resented you this entire time for what you said in Switzerland about taking a step back. To be honest, I hate everything about this." He touched her face. "You almost died, and I just want to forget that it ever happened. I thought we could move on if we focused on something else."

"The wedding."

He nodded. "Now I see that you need time."

"It's got nothing to do with us," she reassured him. "I still love you." Her gaze dropped, and she leaned into him. "I still need you."

She felt his lips brush her temple, and again she had the overwhelming urge to tell him everything, but she didn't want to make things worse. He was holding her for the first time in a long time, really holding her, like he actually wanted to and didn't just feel obligated to. Maybe, she thought, she needed to do what Bruce had done for their sake: she'd forget about it and promise not to try to figure it out anymore.

"I just want things to go back to normal," she whispered into Alfred's shoulder.

He nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. "So do I." His hands found hers, and he smiled faintly at her. "Do you want to come in?"

"More than anything."

He pulled her into the room and into a long, vehement kiss. Finally, Margot felt all the emotion he'd kept bottled up since they'd returned. As stiff and proper as he came across to those who didn't know him, he was nothing like that with her, pressing her up against the wall, ravaging her with the desperation of someone who wasn't used to indulging in their desires.

She felt drunk on the sensation of having him close to her again. His touch was intoxicating; it kept drawing her back for more, despite her fears. He made her feel needed, and she needed him most of all. She still admired him more than anyone she'd ever known, still respected him and revered him. She wanted nothing more than his approval. That was the danger, she thought as he spread her on the bed and reacquainted himself with every part of her. That was her weakness, the crux of all her fears, laid out and vulnerable, the one thing she didn't want to admit, even to herself.

She needed him too much.

Still, it felt good to lie in his arms again, with nothing between them except a thin sheen of perspiration.

Margot closed her eyes with a sigh and let herself relax. She felt safe. She always felt safe in Alfred's embrace, as if his arms could contain all of her fears and worries, limit them somehow.

He was quiet for a long time, longer than usual, even for him. After a while, though, he shifted and peered down at her. "Are you sure it's nothing to do with us?" he asked quietly.

"What?" she inquired.

"Taking a step back."

Margot smiled wanly and touched his face. "Yeah. Of course I'm sure."

"You'd tell me otherwise."

She propped herself up on an elbow and regarded him. "Alfred, what is this? You're not usually so…doubtful."

He shrugged and shook his head. "A part of me worries that perhaps I was overly hasty, that I overstepped when I asked you to marry me." Looking at her, he asked nervously, "You didn't say yes because you thought you should, did you?"

Margot scoffed and opened her mouth to reassure him, but instead she found herself hesitating. His face fell. She felt her stomach clench with dread as she whispered, "I don't know."

Alfred nodded slowly.

"Look, Alfred, I still struggle with a lot of shit," she told him hurriedly. "You know that. If anything, I'm just afraid of adding to your burden." She laughed wryly and continued in frustration, "Sometimes I look at you and Bruce and I feel so lucky, but it's not a happy kind of lucky. It's the kind where I wonder how long it will last before something terrible happens and I lose you both." Margot noticed that she was shaking, but she pressed on. "I know I'm good at acting brave, but I'm so scared all the time. It's not even that I'm afraid you'll die. What if I do something awful? What if I make another mistake? What if I'm just not good enough for you?" As she finally uncovered the truth, she could stop the tears from falling down her face.

Alfred, blindsided by her sudden emotional outburst, could only pull her into his arms and hold her tightly. "My God, where is all this coming from?" he inquired in surprise and concern, petting her hair. "Margot, you're more than enough. The fact that you would even worry about something like that…"

She shook her head, scoffing. "I know. It's stupid. It's just my stupid, irrational anxiety."

He tipped her chin up, waiting for her to meet his gaze. "Margot, no matter what you do, I will love you. That's why I'm scared of losing you too." His stark blue eyes were wide and honest. "Let's think worst case scenario. You know if you turned on Bruce, I'd feel betrayed. I'd kill you to protect him." He held her face, his gaze holding hers as he assured her, "But I'd still love you."

"I'd never do that," she whispered.

"I know," he agreed firmly. "I know. You're enough, Margot." He kissed her gently. "Do you believe me?"

She closed her eyes and nodded, concentrating on the warmth of his touch, the feeling of having him so close to her.

"Now do you feel better?" he asked, brushing a strand of her hair back.

Margot nodded. "I've missed this," she told him.

"Yeah," he whispered.

They were quiet for a while, resting, enjoying the silence that inevitably followed long, serious conversations.

"What are you going to do about Bruce now?" Margot inquired after a few minutes.

Alfred didn't even have to ask what she meant. "Get rid of those bloody files," he said without hesitation. "I'll burn them if I can. Of course, he'll need something to distract him, something to fill his time."

She looked up at him curiously. "What do you have in mind?"

The man smiled mischievously. "Dancing lessons."

Margot let out a surprised laugh and snuggled up to him. "Good luck with that."

He chuckled, the sound resonating through her. "You're welcome to join him."

"No," she said firmly, unable to hide a grin.

For the moment, she felt all right, her worries small and inconsequential, wrapped within the boundaries of Alfred's tight embrace.