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It's not like they don't have enough to fill their day when the judge declares a delay in the trial, but Harvey's right about taking some personal time. Who knows when they'll have another afternoon free like this? She considers spending it with Harvey, smiling at the thought of whispering a suggestion or two into his ear about things that have nothing to do with the relentless prosecution of Gotham's underworld but decides against it. They already have dinner plans, and if they're going to continue working together with whatever's developing between them, then they're going to have to spend some time apart or end up sick of the sight of each other. It's the thought that she truly wants a relationship with Harvey combined with the memory of the invitation Bruce extended the last time she saw him that leads to her catching a cab uptown.
Alfred greets her, smiling, as she steps out of the private elevator into the expanse of Bruce's newly inhabited penthouse.
"Good to see you, Alfred," she says as she steps into his offered hug.
"Always, Rachel," he replies. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"Bruce mentioned that I should come over and see the new place," she says, shrugging off her coat. "Some unexpected free time opened up, so I figured I'd drop by."
"Well, he isn't here, but I'd be glad to give you the tour," Alfred says as she takes her Blackberry out of her bag, then hands over her coat and purse into his waiting hands.
He takes a moment to place them into a closet, then gestures for her follow him through the living space. He points out details here and there as he shows her around. She'd known it would be spacious before she saw it--it takes up two whole floors of the skyscraper that houses it, after all. But it's different seeing it up close--almost too much to process.
In its way, the penthouse is as elegant as Wayne Manor had been, but that's where the similarities end. It has a spare beauty that she might enjoy if it weren't so cold--sleek, contemporary styling, all clean lines, harsh angles, and sharp edges. Like Bruce after he came back from the dead, she thinks, which may be appropriate since the penthouse feels like another of Bruce's costumes.
But then there's the view. After Alfred has taken her down most of the spare corridors and looped back to the great room, she stops before the wall of windows and takes in the hazy vista of Gotham City on a high smog day. She'd been a little surprised when the gossip reports started mentioning that he'd moved into the city proper. It just didn't seem like him, for some reason. But being able to see all of Gotham from the penthouse's multiple vantage points--that's one hundred percent Bruce Wayne.
She thinks about the location of the major crimes building then says, "He can see Gordon's signal from here."
"That he can," Alfred says. Then, "Have you had lunch?"
"Not yet," she answers, letting him change the subject.
"Then we'll kill two birds, as the saying goes. I'll show you the kitchen and feed you while I'm at it."
"Only if you eat with me," she says, turning away from the view to follow him.
"That I will," he says, then leads her down another sparse hallway until they reach their destination.
The kitchen is as contemporary as the rest of the penthouse, all stainless steel and hard wood and black marble. It's as big as her apartment, and she knows that the cost of any one of the appliances would likely cover her month's rent. In spite of this, something about the kitchen is warmer than the other spaces she's seen, and she finds herself relaxing for the first time since she'd arrived.
Alfred gestures at one of the stools lining the high island counter in the center of the kitchen, and she slides onto it, hooking the heel of one of her shoes over the support. She leans forward to watch as he moves around the kitchen with efficiency.
"How is your mother?" Alfred asks.
"She's well. Enjoying retirement and sunshine. She asks after you."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. She wonders when you're going to retire--get out of Gotham. Of course, that's her first question for me, too."
"You're a little young for retirement, if I may say so Ms Dawes," he says with a teasing grin as he places a cup on a saucer in front of her and one on the other side of the island for himself.
"The getting out of Gotham part," she says, her fingers playing with the chain of the teaball in her cup. "She worries."
"She's your mum. She's going to worry."
"True. But what about you, Alfred? When are you going to retire?"
"You know the answer to that."
And she does. Leaving Bruce is out of the question for him. She continues to watch him as he turns away to finish preparing their meal, and she's struck by how familiar it is. She realizes that the kitchen feels warmer because it's Alfred's space. She doesn't have much to say as he fixes their lunch until he sets a bowl of soup and a plate with two slices of fresh, buttered bread in front of her. She leans over the bowl and inhales deeply, the scent calling up an unexpected memory.
"This is the soup Bruce's mother used to make, isn't it?" she asks.
He fills her teacup and says, "You remember that?"
"Yes. Bruce was sick one day, and she made this for him. I told her I didn't like lentils, but she insisted that I taste it." She smiles at the memory. "It was delicious." She lifts the spoon to her mouth to blow on it before taking a taste. "Still is."
"It's always better the second day," he says as he sits across from her and dips a spoon into his own bowl. "It's Bruce's favorite."
She frowns, and Alfred asks, "What's the matter?"
"It's just sad that I haven't thought of Mrs Wayne in a while," she says. "I owe her a lot. Did you know she left me a college fund?"
"I didn't, but I'm not surprised."
"She must have arranged it when I was very young," she says. "I don't think Bruce even knows about it. I didn't know until I was seventeen and got a registered letter with the details one day. My mother cried over it. Mrs Wayne was always so nice to me."
"She was impressed by your cleverness," he says, "and she was happy you were Bruce's friend." He pauses before asking, "So are you going to tell me why you're avoiding him?"
A denial sits on her tongue for a moment before she hedges with, "Maybe."
"You knew he wouldn't be here today."
Alfred, you're too observant, she thinks. She should have known he'd notice.
"I didn't know for sure," she says truthfully. She sighs and puts her spoon down. "I worry about him--not just for the obvious reasons, but because I hardly get to see the real him anymore." She doesn't speak everything she's thinking--that the few times she has seen glimpses of the Bruce she knows beneath his vapid playboy persona, she sees nothing but a loneliness that seems almost worse than what he was dealing with before he'd disappeared. Or how before she knew about his life as the Batman, she used to avoid him because of what she thought was his aimlessness but now feels the need to move away from his obsession. "I understand his need to do something to fix Gotham. To make it right, you know? But Batman could end up killing him. I mourned him once when he was declared dead. I don't want to have to mourn him again."
"Life is ultimately fatal, Ms Dawes. For all of us."
"But we have choices about what we do in the meantime, right?" she says. "Is Batman really the right choice?"
"He believes it is," Alfred says. "And he's done a lot of good."
"Of course he has," she says. "Hell, he's saved my life more than once, and you know I'm grateful for it. I'm just scared he's lost so deep in this that he'll never come out again." She sighs. "And I guess I just miss him."
Alfred reaches over to briefly pat her hand before saying, "He's there, Rachel. I think he has a better handle on who he is now than at any other time in his life, in fact."
"Maybe," she says, and she again goes along with it when Alfred changes the subject by asking about her work.
She finishes her meal, then sits through two more cups of tea, just enjoying being in the presence of this man she's known all of her life. When she checks the time on her phone, two hours have passed since they started lunch, and she realizes she needs to head out if she's going to be on time to meet Harvey.
"I have to go," she says, stretching a bit as she steps off of the stool.
"Can't you stay a bit longer?" Alfred asks, moving to walk with her to the door, "Bruce should be back soon."
"I have a date," she says, and she can't help her grin.
"Someone I know?"
"Possibly," she says without elaborating further. "Tell Bruce I stopped by."
"I will," he replies as he gathers her coat and purse from the closet he'd stowed them in. "Come by sometime when he's here. I know he'd love to see you, and maybe you wouldn't miss him so much."
She nods, kisses his cheek, and steps into the elevator.