Bruce's Point of View

I paced back and forth in my room, resisting the urge to go across the hall and bang on her door. Who does she think she is? Talking to me like that in my home! My home, that I so graciously invited her back into; my home that my parents welcomed her into in the first place. What gives her the right to speak to me like that? Accusing me of mistreating her? As if!

I sat down on my bed and threw one of the pillows across the room. Lying down, I cupped my forehead as I remembered the night in question: my school's prom night. I had paid the extra fee of inviting a girl from another school to my prom, which I gladly did. I knew I only wanted one person to go with me, and that was Bethany Elwood.

A young me waited in the parlor as Bethany reluctantly got ready upstairs. Alfred was waiting at the door to open it for her when she came down.

"What's taking her so long?" I asked as I sat down on one of the sofas.

"Well you have to give her time. It takes a lot of effort for women to get ready for such an occasion." Alfred's response was, "Plus, you have to admit that Miss Elwood didn't look exactly thrilled to be getting ready in the first place."

"Well why not?"

"You and Miss Elwood haven't had the best of relations over the past few years, Master Wayne. You have to acknowledge that."

"So we had a fight a few years ago! Who cares?"

"Apparently Miss Elwood does."

"What does her opinions matter? I'm over it, so should she be."

"I'm afraid that's not how it works."

I scoffed and picked the corner of the armrest while I waited for her and Margaret to come down. Finally after what felt like ages, the sound of the two women coming down the main staircase came echoing through the house. Alfred was at the door waiting for them to come closer. Opening the door, he welcomed in Margaret, dressed as she was before in a simple dull green skirt with a matching blaizer, and then her daughter, Bethany.

"Alright, lets get this night over with." Bethany came in unceremoniously and huffed. I stood took in her new attire. She had come in ripped jeans and a local band t-shirt, her hair in a ponytail. Now, she wore a simple deep purple dress with her hair up in a simple twist bun. She wore no makeup, and no jewelry.

"Is that seriously how you're going out?" I asked gesturing to her.

She glared at me, "Yes. This is seriously how I'm going out."

"You didn't even try!"

"Look, Bruce. You wanted me here. I'm here. Now, get your keys, and lets go."

"At least put some makeup on, or something!"

Her jaw dropped, "What the hell did you just say?"

"I'm just saying you would look prettier with some makeup on… and some jewelry for that matter."

"You know what, Bruce… fuck you." Turning to her mother she said, "I'm getting out of this dress, and we are leaving."

"You can't leave." I said, "I paid for you to be here."

"Well… I'm so sorry to not be exactly what you paid for!" Turning on her heel she wrenched the door opened and stormed up the stairs.

"Bethany!" I ran out of the room after her, "Bethany, come on…. Don't be so sensitive! Just put on some eye makeup and then come to the dance with me." I managed to grab hold of her arm at the top of the stairs, "Besides you own me one for pushing me down that well, and I already told the boys at my school that I was bringing the hottest girl I knew to the dance."

"I owe you? That was an accident!"

"Accident or not, you're mine for the night, so lets go."

Pulling her arm against my grasp she growled, "Let go of me, Bruce. I'm changing and then leaving."

"No you're not! You're coming with me so I can show you off at the dance."

"I'm not something you can show off to your douchebag of a school!"

"Why can't you just go with me like all of the other girls want to?"

Making a smugly sweet face, she said "Maybe I'm not like other girls."

Letting go of her arm I replied, "Yeah, you're right. You're just a stuck up bitch."

She flung her hand backwards across my face, "Fuck. You. Bruce."

A knock came from the door and Alfred opened the door. "Excuse me, Master Wayne, but dinner is ready."

Sitting up, I nodded, "I'll be down in a moment."

"Alright."

Alfred closed the door and I rubbed my eyes. Maybe I had been a jerk. I had no choice but to apologize for what I said when I was in high school. I also had to hope that Bethany would be willing to forgive me. Standing, I left my room and stood stiffly in the hallway. Across the space, was the door to her bedroom. Walking down the hall I stopped outside, and took a moment to gather my faults. I had to apologize. I was an ass when I was younger. Sighing, I raised my hand to knock, but the door opened.

Bethany looked shocked to find me standing outside her door, but she recovered first, "What?"

"I um… came to escort you downstairs."

"I need escorting?"

"No, no, it's just um… I…." I sighed, "I'm sorry."

"What?"

"I'm sorry, Bethany."

She shifted her weight to one foot and she frowned, "Sorry? About what?"

"Everything I said earlier…. You're right. I have this tendency to be a prick sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

I cringed, but nodded, "You're right…. I um… I've been a huge dick."

Bethany frowned for a moment longer, then she said, "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah," she shrugged, "I accept your apology." She gave me a smile.

I smiled back at her, "Great."

She opened the door and I offered her my arm. Taking it, we walked down the stairs and to the dining room. Margaret was already seated near the head of the table drinking from a glass of water. I pulled out a chair for Bethany before seating myself. Alfred came out with a cart of food and served everyone before taking a seat himself. Helping ourselves to the food in front of us, we settled in for a delicious meal.

"So, Bethany," I started, "What are you up to now?"

She took a sip of her water before answering, "I'm actually a curator for a private art collector in England."

I gave a shocked nod, "Wow. That's impressive."

She smiled, "Yes. He has a wonderful collection. I have the honor of working directly with him and seeing exactly what he wants."

"What does he collect?" Alfred asked.

"He loves classic art, mostly baroque art. He does have a few Degas, Matisse, Picassos. His collection is stunning."

"Sounds like there might be more to the collection than just it's beauty." Margaret said sipping her wine with a knowing expression.

"Are you two in a relationship?" I asked, picking up on the hint.

"No." She said, "We're not. And before you ask, no, we're not sleeping together either."

I gave a small laugh, "I wasn't going to ask, but it's good to know you're unattached."

Bethany shot me a warning glance, but went back to eating her food.

"How are things here in Gotham?" Margaret asked, "I've heard the most dreadful news coming from the city."

"The city is in bad shape," I responded, setting my untensils down, "But I have confidence in the police force."

"What is all this about this… Batman that I'm hearing so much about?"

Bethany snorted, "I'm sorry, what?"

I looked at Alfred who nodded back to me. I turned to Bethany and said, "There is this… vigilante figure haunting Gotham at night, terrorizing the criminal scourge of the Narrows."

"Oh my God, you're serious?"

I nodded, "Yes."

"Why… hasn't the police done anything about it?"

"Well, I think they don't want to," said Alfred, "He's hand delivering them thugs off of the street left and right."

"But still," Bethany said, "They can't support a crazy vigilante. What if others start copying him? People could get hurt, or worse."

"Well, from what I've read, he's stopping copy cats as well." Margaret spoke while she stabbed at a piece of salmon .

"That's right," agreed Alfred, "He straps them to poles until the police arrive."

"Okay… but that doesn't do anything to discourage others. Just because a few copy cats get caught, doesn't mean others won't try."

I nodded, "True. But as long as Batman continues to stop them, maybe they'll get the hint."

Bethany snorted, "Or kill themselves trying." She took a bite of salmon and chewed for a moment before asking, "What the hell kind of name is Batman, anyway?"

"He dresses up like a bat." Her mother looked at her over the rim of her wineglass.

"A bat?" Bethany looked from Alfred to me, then back to her mother. "He dresses up… as a bat? Okay… now I think you're making this up."

Alfred chuckled, "It does sound a bit foolish, doesn't it: a grown man dressing up as a bat to fight crime in a hopeless city." Alfred shot me a look, which I returned, shooting him a mock hurt expression. "But he is doing something that the police force can't do, and that is getting a lot of thugs off of the street."

Bethany frowned, "I can't believe that the Gotham Police Force isn't doing more to discourage this man from doing whatever it is he's doing."

"Oh hush, dear," said Margaret, "He's doing Gotham a world of good from what I hear… after what happened with that clown character."

"Clown?" Bethany looked around confused.

"There was this crazy guy," I answered, "Called himself the Joker. He killed a man every day for a week until Batman stopped him."

"Jesus Christ!" Bethany looked around the table at everyone, "Why would he do that?"

"He wanted Batman to give up who he was," Alfred replied, "To give up his mask."

"And… did he?"

"No." I answered. "He was able to stop him."

"But don't you see? This is exactly what happens when you let a vigilante go running wild! He takes the law into his own hands, he inspires other criminals to step up their game. Sooner or later, the Gotham Police Force won't be able to keep up."

"That is true," I said, "But I'm sure Batman will give up what he's doing when he feels that it's time."

"And you know that… how?" Bethany took a drink of her water.

"It's… just a feeling everyone in Gotham has." I smiled at her as I sipped from my wine.

She gave a nod, "Right."

I chanced a glance at Alfred who was already looking at me. I gave him a small nod, and he turned to Margaret and asked, "So, what are you doing now?"