Chapter Text
His necktie is too tight.
It’s a dull, pervasive thought in the back of Bruce’s mind that coaxes him awake from a deep sleep. His eyes flutter open and then shut when he squints in the light. Sunlight. He’s facing the Gotham sunset through floor-to-ceiling windows. Is that the sunset? Or a sunrise? He has no way of telling how much time has passed.
He reaches to loosen his tie but finds that he can’t move his arms from their position behind the back of the chair he’s sitting in. Bruce tugs on the restraints only to be met with a sharp pain slicing through his wrist: wire.
Bruce takes a breath and tries to calm the panic rising in his chest. He starts to take a mental inventory of himself and the space surrounding him.
Get my bearings and go from there, he thinks. Focus on one thing at a time.
He’s in a large, empty room of a high rise that looks to be an abandoned office space. His feet are tied together with the same wire. His knee is definitely injured from the wreck. His head is throbbing. He’s missing his suit jacket. His tie is too tight.
Wait, that’s not his necktie.
What the hell?
Bruce can’t see it from his position, but it feels to be a thick, metal collar on his neck that’s making it hard to breathe comfortably. He lifts his chin and twists his head in an attempt to alleviate the pressure but he instead is nicked by sharp wire once again. He winces with a hiss but that only brings another cut.
His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest. The sound fills his head, hammering to get out. This isn’t fucking normal—sure, kidnappings aren’t “normal,” but this is something else.
Bruce pays careful attention to have himself relax gently so he doesn’t hurt himself again. Racing, uncontrolled breaths from panic will only bring more pain from the device. His eyes continue to sweep the room but he doesn’t turn his head, preventing a better look at his peripherals. From the windows, he can see the bay and a few loading docks between buildings–with this view and the sun on the horizon, Bruce knows he’s on the west side of town staring into a sunset.
Ok, he’s getting somewhere. Any small detail is better than nothing.
When Alfred returned to the penthouse after leaving the hospital, he had never been more grateful for Bruce’s bad habits than in that moment. Bruce’s Batcave is nothing but incomplete, interrupted projects with each of his screens showing a different task. Two tables are dedicated to broken weapons that Bruce has been tinkering with, another table is for weapon and automobile blueprints, and the three others are currently devoted to the Riddler, displaying scattered papers with seemingly no rhyme or reason to their organization. His main desk hosts his computer screens, which as of now show police databases and security camera footage. Underneath is where Bruce stores his collection of journals and investigative notes.
This was the first place Alfred thought of when he decided in the hospital that he was on his own. He needs his own home base. Bruce had already started his own investigation with Alfred’s help–Alfred is somewhat familiar with Bruce’s leads and theories, but now he must do his own work.
The elevator doors slide open to reveal the dark room. Bruce welcomed Alfred in when he was curious enough to wander down and check on Bruce, but it has always remained very closed off. There have been many instances over the years where Alfred hadn’t seen or heard from Bruce for days, resulting in Alfred coming down with a sandwich and a cup of water for the boy. Sometimes it would appear that Bruce hadn’t moved from his seat every time Alfred visited, silently staring into the computer screens. Maybe Alfred should convince Bruce to add a blue light filter to his glasses (or just do it without asking).
This isn’t Alfred’s first time in the Batcave alone, but it’s off-putting to walk in without being greeted by Bruce’s figure hunched over his desk.
Alfred takes his seat in front of the computers, unsure where to start. He doesn’t exactly have any evidence yet to deduce where Bruce was taken or for what reason. His fingers hover over the mouse and keyboard as he scans Bruce’s progress, trying to make sense of the mess. A Nirvana CD sticks out of one of the computer’s players, like the album finished without him taking notice to put the disc away. Then, Alfred notices a screen that catches his eye. It’s a video feed with a sign taped to what looks like a person’s ceiling, like the camera is on a floor or a table and pointing up. The sign is asking for help.
Alfred leans forward, his heart picking up pace. That’s not Bruce’s handwriting, he realizes, and buries the small glimmer of hope that emerged. He sees that there’s an audio connection and he’s muted. He unmutes and turns up the system’s volume, causing meows to begin to fill the room’s space and echo. He hears a “Shh, wait your turn!” from a woman in the distance.
Alfred angles himself towards the microphone and speaks.
“Hello?”
~
Alfred worries he was too reckless to trust this Selina character so quickly. He is desperate for an ally, somebody that can do the physically demanding work he can’t. Plus, it never hurts to have two minds at work on the same problem. Alfred has learned this over the years and he suspects Bruce has, too. The Riddler’s puzzles haven’t been the first time Bruce accepted Alfred’s help on a challenge.
He isn’t sure how Bruce and Selina met, but their joint cause provides some context. Bruce never talks to Alfred about women, but honestly, there’s usually no women in his life to talk about. Alfred has hinted here and there, informing Bruce of single guests that will be present at the same event as him, offering some encouragement to strike up a conversation. Yet, Bruce always returns to the penthouse mutely (and alone) to immediately head to the Batcave and suit up for the night.
Who would have thought he’d meet somebody while wearing the batsuit?
Alfred watches Selina as they both read and organize the evidence Bruce had thus far. Their current matter-at-hand is to get an idea of what Bruce knows and combine it with their own findings, which means they have to straighten out his mess. They work together under a system Selina proposed, to sort by the evidence’s source. A table dedicated to police, one for the Riddler, another for what Bruce dug up himself, and they cleared a fourth for documents they don’t understand yet.
Selina moves with precision, quickly scanning things and moving them to the correct spot without hesitation. When she finds something she isn’t sure of, she squints her eyes and leans in a bit in concentration. They go back and forth a few times on some pieces of paper, debating where it should go, picking apart its details.
It’s clear she’s a very headstrong individual, based on Alfred’s introduction to her. He can see why Bruce stayed in contact with her. It’s the same with Gordon–not only are they useful to Bruce, they’re passionate about what they do. They’re not afraid of the consequences if it’s for the greater good.
Alfred thinks he and Selina are going to make a good team.