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Author's Note: Here's Ch. 2 of Stephanie's journey. I think I might have mentioned this in the other chapter and if I didn't, then I'd like to say that this is a slow going story. But things will pick up pace soon and the story will open up. These first few chapters are merely for introduction with the main course of the story coming afterwards. I'd like to thank djkauf for the editing and DC Comics for the characters. Oh and please read the Note attached to the button as well :)

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Chapter Two:

Have you ever gone somewhere and felt freaked out long before you got there. It’s like going to a doctor’s appointment or the dentist. I know I was exceptionally freaked out about my first day of high school, especially being the kid who had yet to go through puberty. But, of course, none of that could compare to the way I was feeling now as the taxi pulled up to the huge gate. I looked out the window and just beyond the wrought iron bars, I could see the house. Ok, calling it a house was like calling the Taj Mahal a tomb. This thing wasn’t a house; it was like a fricken castle. It was set far back in a wooded area, surrounded by thick forests, and had an eerie atmosphere found in most horror movies. The mad scientist always lived in a place like that.

Not that Wayne was mad. He was far from it, actually. He was probably one of the youngest and most successful billionaires around, well youngest next to Olivia Queen of course.

“There isn’t a moat is there?” I asked, not realizing I said it aloud until Leslie laughed.

“I’ll have you know that Thomas Wayne---Bruce’s dear departed father---actually thought of putting one up. He said it would help keep away all the pesky reporters looking for interviews.”

I nodded and Leslie laughed again. I swallowed hard. “You don’t think it might be better if I stay at the clinic. The cab can drop you off and take me back.”

Leslie laughed for a third time. “There’s nothing dangerous in that place, dear. I’ve been there loads of times. In fact, I helped raise the boy that became one of the most successful men in the world, you know.”

I knew. Leslie didn’t talk about her personal life much but she had many nice things to say about Bruce Wayne. She and his father were partners in a small practice in the city. That was until Bruce’s grandfather died and his father---Thomas---had to step into the role of CEO. Not that he forgot where he came from, of course. He was actually the one who built the clinic, actually at that time, the neighborhood was a lot better. He hoped that it would show that he was giving back to the community in every way possible. Bruce continued that charity by opening several clinics just like Leslie’s throughout the city. His crowning achievement in the medical world was the Thomas Wayne Memorial Hospital built in his father’s honor.

I was born there and my mother did her residency there.

The cab driver looked as flummoxed as I. “Umm, I’m not sure what to do now.”

Leslie smiled and leaned forward. “Roll down your window, dear?” He did as she instructed. Leslie leaned toward it. “Al, it’s Leslie. Can you buzz us in?”

I looked to see what she was talking to. Then I saw a small circular camera on one of the stone gate ends. It didn’t show any sign of moving and there was no intercom that I could see. Sure enough, about a minute later, the gates shuddered and slowly started to open. The driver thanked Leslie and then drove on through. There was a long driveway leading up and when we got to the “castle”, it looped around in a large circle. In the center of the circle was this really cool fountain, it looked like Poseidon holding his trident. Looking at the trident, I saw extremely sharp gold tips and shuddered. I guess with this kind of money they could do something like that. It made me wonder if it was really gold or not.

When the cab stopped, I took a deep breath. The manor loomed over us. It looked big from the road but now being this close to it, I realized that the thing was enormous. It was expansive too. I looked out the window, looking left and right. It looked like the brown stone went on out of sight in either direction. I’m sure that wasn’t the case but to spend enough money to build this, all I’m saying is that some one really likes to show off.

Leslie seemed to read my mind. “Bruce’s Great Grandfather built it during the turn of the century. Back then, wealth was measured in the elaborate. Most of the Waynes who have come since then find this place about as garish as you do but none of them wanted to change it. Bruce, you will find, has made a lot of technological upgrades however.”

I nodded. About a year ago, I watched a television show where Mr. Wayne allowed a camera crew to film inside the mansion, apparently something that had never been done before. The man liked his privacy, which would explain why his house was so far from the city. During the guided tour, he showed off quite a bit, including the gardens, his personal gym, the two pools and the game room. There was a lot more too, but I couldn’t remember all of it. I couldn’t help but think though, what living or even growing up in a house like this might be like.

The driver got out and opened the door for the two of us. I slid out first, followed my Leslie. His calling us ladies made me feel really good. Leslie paid him as he got her bag and then he drove off, leaving us in blue blood country all alone. Looking up at the magnificent structure before me made me feel a little inadequate. Then I looked down at how I was dressed and felt even more out of place. I was no longer wearing the candy striper outfit---Thank God---but my shorts and tee were no better. If I’d known I was coming to a billionaire’s fortress today I wouldn’t have at least worn that stupid skirt. I tried to talk Leslie into allowing me to go home first but she said Mr. Wayne would not care about what I was wearing. I tugged on the end of the shorts but it wasn’t like I could make them longer.

“You look fine, dear.”

I followed Leslie up the massive stone steps; there were a pair of lions on either side of them. They looked like the statues on either side of the Art Institute in the city but these ones were made of marble. I reached out to touch one but decided against it. Leslie was already at the door so I ran to catch up. It was one of those big solid oak kinds with a knocker and everything. Leslie used the knocker and we waited. About a minute or so later, the door opened. The guy standing on the other side was tall, his hair all but gray but with flecks of black. He was wearing a charcoal colored suit with a bow tie. He had a stern look but the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile at the sight of Leslie.

“Hello Al, how’s the patient?”

“Insufferable” he said in a clipped British accent.

“Most men are when they’re not feeling well.”

Al didn’t look amused in the least. He turned his attention to me. “Is this the young assistant that you spoke of?”

Leslie nodded. “This is Crystal’s daughter, Stephanie.”

Leslie put her hand on my shoulder. I liked that she called me Mom’s daughter.

Al raised an eyebrow. “Her daughter?” He gave me a once over and smiled slightly. “I see, well delighted to meet you, young miss. I am Alfred Pennyworth, Master Bruce’s steward.”

I knew enough to know that what he really meant was butler. I’d never actually meant one of those before so that was kinda cool.

Alfred led us into the house and let me tell you, I was floored by what I saw. The inside definitely lived up to the outside. The foyer was ginormous---not a word, well it is now. The floors were made of polished marble, there was a giant crystal chandelier hovering high above my head and a huge painting of a couple---I assumed them to be Bruce’s parents---on the main wall. Underneath it was a marble pedestal on which stood a vase of white roses. Everything had an old vibe to it as if it’d been lived in for a long time even though it was well maintained. But looking around the foyer I couldn’t help but get a slight shiver as if someone was watching my every move.

“Come this way, Master Wayne is expecting you.”

Alfred led us out of the foyer, through a curved archway. I loved the wood panel feel of everything. In the hall, there were paintings on the wall. I didn’t know who painted them but I was pretty certain they weren’t prints. Most of the hallways were the same. After he led us through that one, we went down another. I’m not sure how many there were exactly but we walked for quite a bit. In one hall, there were tall windows, looking out into one of the gardens. I got a quick glance; there were so many flowers out there, more than I’d even seen. It looked like a nice place to relax. In another hall, I got a look at a courtyard, set up with a wicked looking hedge maze, all leading to a white gazebo. There might have been a bench there too.

We passed a lot of doors, too. I made the mistake of trying to open one only to get a shrewd glance from Alfred. Apparently, the billionaire prided himself on his privacy. Not that I could get in anyway, the door was locked. But I could see where a man like Bruce would want his secrets and I was pretty certain that a house like this had a lot of them.

Finally, Alfred led us up an elaborate staircase. Why it wasn’t in the main foyer was beyond me. It also bothered me that we had to walk so far to get there. I looked at my watch; we’d been walking for about ten minutes.

Alfred noticed my shock. “Master Bruce’s ancestor was a very paranoid man. Instead of making it easy to get to the second floor, we made it a challenge so as to deter anyone who wished to do him in.”

“Why would anyone want to hurt him?”

“As I said, he was very paranoid.”

On the second floor, things were less elaborate. The walls were still wood but now the floors were as well. There were still a lot of doors up here but I was certain most of them were locked as well. At the end of the hall was a room flanked by a pair of suits of armor worn by knights. They were kinda cool actually. I was kinda wondering where the suits of armor were, this being like a castle and all. Leslie smiled at the look on my face; Alfred once again didn’t look amused. He led us to the room and didn’t bother to knock but he did turn to me before going inside.

“I am only permitted to allow Dr. Thompson into the main room but Master Bruce has advised me to allow you to wait in his parlor.”

I nodded. “Sure no problem.”

Alfred nodded and took out a key, unlocking the door. Maybe that paranoid thing runs in the family.

As soon as the door was opened, I half expected to see a giant room but instead I saw a spiraling staircase. All at once, I knew what part of the place we were at. On the drive up, I noticed the two towers on either end of the property but I was convinced they were for show. After all the place looked like a castle, so I thought they were part of the design. But it turns out I was wrong. Not only were they not for show but apparently one of them housed Bruce’s bedroom. It was now very clear that paranoia ran in this family. Not that it bothered me either way. I thought it was kinda cool that he had a room in a tower like this.

“Mind your step, ladies.”

We followed Alfred up the winding staircase. I thought I was in pretty good shape but you had to be a damn biathlete to climb these damn stairs. Leslie was in front of me, Alfred in front of her. Both of them were four or five times my age and they were putting me to shame. I guess the moral of this story was no more sitting around on my butt all day. I’m not sure how long it took us to climb those stairs, it felt like hours. But when we finally reached the top, I nearly collapsed. Leslie literally held me up and then scolded me for being out of shape. Hey, what can I tell you, I’m a couch potato? Ever since Dad stopped me from Gymnastics, I don’t have any real reason to exercise anymore. It’s a sad thing to think about but it was the truth. I used to work out three days a day just to keep my lithe form in shape, Mom and I used to run every morning together and I spent more time at the Gym then I did at home. Not that Dad ever cared---or noticed for that matter---he was never home either.

Alfred took out the same key as before and unlocked the door in front of us. We were standing on a little landing and when the three of stepped through the threshold into this new room, I smiled. This place looked like some old time library. There were boxes lining three of the walls of the room, the fourth seemed to have only an old grandfather clock. The room had a particularly comfortable Old World feel with antique looking furniture and nuances. But those were combined with some of the modern tech took, like a flatscreen that looked like it descended from the ceiling and a stereo that was built into the center of one of the book shelves.

“Miss Stephanie, this is the parlor,” said Alfred “if you would wait here. Dr. Thompson and I must see to Mr. Wayne.”

I nodded, watching the two of them walk off. Alfred led Leslie to a door off to the side, most likely leading to Mr. Wayne’s bedroom. As soon as they were gone, I started to poke around a bit. I’d never been in a place with so many books before. It was strange to see a room this shape as well. Most rooms were square but because this one was in a tower, it had a circular design too. I decided to browse the bookshelves first. It didn’t take me long to realize that a lot of these books were decades old---they might even be centuries. First editions, I bet. I wonder if he read them or if they were just for show. I looked at a lot of them, scanning the titles.

Only one seemed particularly out of place. I only thought it was out of place because it was right in the middle of a bunch of books about espionage. It was a copy of Dumas’ Count of Monte Cristo. Having a father like mine made me familiar with most books that kids my age might not even recognize. Before we moved into the slums, we used to have an expansive library. We didn’t have nearly as many books now, and none of them were first editions, but my father liked the classics. Being almost ten at the time I didn’t really read anything but this particular book caught my interest at once. It was all about a man who was wronged and was seeking revenge for it. I’m not sure why it struck such a chord though. Even now, the only reason it stuck out to me was because of the books around it.

I reached for it, wondering if there was any significance. My fingers were almost about to touch the delicate binding when I stopped. I had to no right to be pulling books off a stranger’s shelf. So I pulled my hand away and continued to explore. After browsing the books, I found myself in front of the grandfather clock. Like most of the furnishings in the room, it was an antique as well. It was ginormous too. I’m five six and this thing had to be at least six feet. I looked up at the clock face, not thinking anything was amiss until I looked at my own watch. According to me, it was only three thirty in the afternoon but according to the grandfather clock, it was ten forty seven at night. I leaned my head in closer and found that the clock was indeed busted.
I frowned and reached up to touch the hands, seeing if they were jammed.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said a voice from behind me.

I nearly jumped out of my clothes. I spun around and there leaning in the doorframe was a tall kid with jet black hair. He had a smug, casualness about him, made evident by the red motorcycle jacket and blue jeans he wore. He stared at me for a few seconds and then strode into the room as if he owned the place. I’d seen Wayne several times---on TV and in the papers–and this guy looked nothing like him. So he wasn’t a brother or anything and he was definitely too old to be his son.

“Do you make it a habit of sneaking up on people?” I asked, putting my hand on my chest, trying to steady the rapid beating of my still frightened heart.

He smirked as he flopped down on one of the couches, throwing his legs up onto one of the arms. Then he shrugged. “I just know the boss man doesn’t like people messing with the clock.”

I frowned. “It’s busted.”

He nodded. “Ten forty seven, there are a lot of clocks around here that say that.”

“What does it mean?”

He gave me this look like I’d grown a second hand. “You seriously don’t know?” I shook my head. He laughed. “I thought it was common knowledge in this city.”

He pushed himself from the couch, gliding effortlessly across the room to me. He got dangerously close, practically pushing me against the wall. He put his hands on the wall on either side of my head. He didn’t say anything for a second or two and just stared. He had the most striking blue eyes, like sapphires. There was no malice in them though, just a very overwhelming mischief. Even with the mischief though, I decided that I didn’t like this guy. Who invades someone’s personal space only seconds after meeting them?

“You’re too close,” I stammered as my heart skipped a beat. I’m not going to lie to you, this guy was gorgeous. But that didn’t mean I wanted him in my face like this.

He reached up and brushed a lock of hair from my face. “You’ve never heard the story of how Bruce’s parents were killed?”

I nodded. Of course, everyone knew the story. It was big news around here. It happened when he was nine years old. He and his parents were leaving a theater and some junkie mugged them. No one really knows what happened next---Bruce doesn’t talk about that part---but both his parents were shot and killed. It was a cold night in October and it happened on…Realization crossed my face and the boy leaning dangerously close to me smiled. He reached for with a finger and bopped my nose like I was a child.

“Bingo” he said and pulled away.

I had an overwhelming sense of grief for Bruce. I’d only lost my mother and it was from cancer but to lose both of his parents and in that matter. What does something like that do to a person? I looked over at the clock and I suppose there were worse ways to cope. If it made him feel better to turn all the clocks to ten forty seven and leave them there then that was fine by me.

My parlor guest backed further away and went back to his couch lounging. “So what’s your story, anyway?”

My heart skipped a neat again. Did he see through me that fast? Did he know my secret? “What do you mean?”

He smirked again. “Bruce doesn’t usually have pretty teen girls in his parlor.”

The compliment made me blush. Get a grip Steph, you hate this guy, remember. “Not that it’s any of your business but I’m here with Leslie.”

The guy raised an eyebrow. “Dr. T’s in there with Bruce right now?”

I nodded. Who was he to call her by an affection nickname like that?

The guy smiled and nodded. “Good, he’s been bitching and moaning.”

I got a chance to read Bruce’s chart before we left the clinic. When a man falls off a mountain climbing, there were grounds for bitching and moaning. He was lucky not to have died. If breaking a few ribs and bruising the hell out of yourself was the result then he was very lucky indeed. “Falling off a mountain allows you to moan like that.”

“A mountain?” asked the guy, looking confused for a split second. Then he recovered quickly. Then he laughed. “He told her it was a mountain?”

I nodded, he laughed aloud. He shook his head. “It was the stupid rock wall in the Gym.”

I suppose that explains why the injuries were less severe.

I couldn’t help but smile and laugh myself actually. Because we were laughing, neither one of us heard Alfred until he cleared his throat rather loudly behind me. I snapped around, nearly jumping ten feet into the air. What was it with people sneaking up in this place?

“Are you done having a jolly at Master Bruce’s expense, Master Tim?”

The guy on the couch---Tim, I guess---nodded. “Sorry, Al.”

Alfred frowned. Then he addressed me. “Miss Stephanie, Master Bruce wishes to speak with you.”

“Me?” I asked, shocked as all hell.

Tim laughed. “Hurry up, the Wizard is showing you behind the curtain, Dorothy.”

I turned and gave him a cold look. Cute but a definite ass.

I wanted to give him the finger but I didn’t think that was appropriate so instead I followed Alfred into the room that only moments before I was forbidden to tread. I’m not sure what I was expecting when I walked inside but I definitely wasn’t expecting hi-tech. It was nothing like the room I just left. Yes, it still had the wood paneling walls and the polished wood floors but it was there that the similarities ended. This room was like walking from the 19th century and into the 21st. The furniture was all modern and up to date; there were several large windows looking out to the grounds and beyond and lots of TV monitors. At first, I thought this guy was obsessed with his favorite shows until I saw that his favorite shows happened to be the house. They weren’t TV monitors, they were CCTV monitors. It looked like he had a camera in every room of the house.

Now that’s paranoid.

The man himself was lying on a large bed, wearing black silk pajamas. He was exactly like I had seen him on TV---black hair, blue eyes, strikingly handsome. Except he was a little paler now, sweaty and he had an IV in his arm. Leslie was sitting in the chair next to the bed, checking his vitals. He didn’t look too amused by it so clearly he was a man who didn’t like doctors.

“You’re Crystal’s daughter?” he asked, his voice was warm but strained as if he was in a great deal of pain.

I nodded. “Yes sir.”

He laughed. “There’s no sir here except maybe Alfred” The butler frowned, Bruce laughed and winced. “You can call me Bruce.”

I smiled. Someone who wasn’t afraid to be addressed so informally around others.

He smiled too. “I’m sorry about Tim,” he continued. “He can be a bit difficult. I’m also sorry about before, I wasn’t being an ass you know. I like to isolate and exclude people just to see how they react. I wanted to see if you were the type of person who was the curious sort or if you’d just sit there and do nothing.”

I bit my lip. He’d been watching me the whole time on the cameras. I was so embarrassed.

“I’m sorry for almost touching the clock and for laughing at your expense.”

He laughed too and regretted it afterwards. I could tell he was in a great deal of pain. Leslie frowned and him and at me. “You don’t have to apologize for me being stupid. I lied to Leslie because I didn’t want her to worry.”

“So you told me you fell off a real mountain instead of a fake one?”

She shook her head. “Because falling off a fake one would have made me worry more?”

He laughed again, wincing. “Ok, so I was protecting my bruised ego too. Do you know how embarrassing that sounds? Me, the accomplished climber, not securing his climb harness properly.”

“You’re just lucky you didn’t break your neck.”

According to Bruce’s file, he fell off the “mountain” nearly a month ago. I had to wonder why Leslie was just finding out about the less than severe nature of such a thing. It was clear that the two of them were close. The way Leslie talked about him it was like he was her own son. I saw the way he looked on her too; it was the way I used to look at my own mother. In this room was a strange little family---Bruce the son, Leslie and Alfred his surrogate parents. I felt sad and happy for the man all at the same time.

Bruce continued as if Leslie hadn’t interrupted. ‘You look like your mother, you have her eyes. She and I were good friends you know, I bet she didn’t’ tell you that?” I shook my head, he smiled. “We were classmates and did everything together when we were children. I miss her a lot, not as much as you do, I’m sure but there’s always been this spot in my heart that belonged to her and now that she’s gone…”

His voice trailed off. I felt a pang and the sadness nearly overwhelmed me. I got over grieving for Mom a long time ago but listening to his words, the grief was coming back. I fought it back but it hurt so much. It also hurt that Mom never mentioned she was friends with Bruce Wayne. I suppose Dad didn’t care for it. He’s the jealous type, very domineering and controlling. Not that Mom let him tell her what to do but they had a small circle of friends and he controlled most of that. It got worse when Mom got sick. You’d think she was a fragile glass flower the way Dad treated her. Like I said before, her death crushed him.

But looking at Bruce now, it was clear that Dad wasn’t the only one who was crushed.

A silence fell over the room until Alfred broke it. “Master Bruce, you wished to ask Miss Stephanie a favor?”

He seemed to recover quickly enough. “Yes, thank you Alfred.” The butler nodded, Bruce smiled. “Stephanie it would seem I’m in need of some company. Alfred is kind of a bore and Tim is well, you’ve met him.” I had to smile at that. Though his presence in this house made me wonder. Bruce continued. “Leslie says you’re her assistant, well over the next few weeks I want you to be mine as well. I’m bored being cooped up in this room all day and seeing as I can’t leave…”

Leslie interrupted. “Not on your life.”

Bruce talked as if she hadn’t. “Seeing as I can’t leave until I’m on the mend, I want you to be my eyes and ears to the world.”

“Me?” I was shocked to say the least.

He nodded. “I’ve been in this room for a month and things in this city are rapidly changing. I used to be on top of things you know, always out and about. But since my accident, I’ve been bored out of my mind.”

“So you want me to entertain you?”

He laughed. “You make me sound like I’m some kind of pervert who likes to bring young girls to his room and have his way with them.”

The thought had crossed my mind for a split second.

Leslie frowned at both of us.

It was definitely an interesting offer. Here I was just coming to make a less than routine house call and now a billionaire wanted me to be his gofer. I suppose it had its perks but it still left me wondering what he knew. Did he know about me, I mean really know about me? Everyone here was so nice and accommodating but they thought I was Crystal’s daughter. If they knew the truth, if they knew who was under the masquerade. It scared the hell out of me what Bruce would do to me if he knew that was not really the teenage girl that I was pretending to be.

“I’m not sure I’m the person you want…”

“I’ll pay you,” he added quickly.

“Bruce” Leslie scolded, clearly annoyed.

“Its not like I can’t afford it” he said, waving her off. “I’ll take whatever Leslie is giving you for your services and triple it.”

Holy…dollar signs appeared in my head. I know it was shallow but Dad and I could really use that money. Not that I’d tell him about any of this of course. But with the kind of cash he was offering, it would be more than enough to help me on my way toward my goals. It just seemed a little strange that a rich guy like him would want a fake teenage “girl” for company. Ok, so I don’t think I’m fake---I know I’m not---but what did he think?

I bit my lip. “Ok, but I’m not abandoning Leslie.”

Bruce smiled. “It will only be a couple of hours a day. You can go to Leslie’s after school like you planned and then I’ll send a car for you; I’ll even send you home with Alfred.”

I shook my head. “A cab will be fine.”

Bruce smiled. “Then it’s a deal?”

I sighed and nodded. “It’s a deal.”

What the hell was I getting myself in to?

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF