Title: Cards on the Table
Author: Maven Cree mavencree@hotmail.com
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Any characters previously mentioned in a DC
comic, I do not own. DC does. I'm not making money off of this.
Continuity: Comic book.
Summary: Sasha and Bruce have a much-needed talk.
Warnings: None
©June 2001
**********************************************************************************************
They'd been back in Gotham for three days. She couldn't put it off any longer.
She rung her hands nervously, pacing back and forth, both very
uncharacteristic for her.
But then again, this was an unusual situation.
The night of the *incident* at the White House, she'd waited
up for him. She didn't know when, or
how, but he had found someway to sneak back into their hotel suite, without her
noticing. She hadn't fallen
asleep. The door had remained
lock. But the next morning he was just
*there*. She didn't even know until the
doorbell rang and she heard him call out from his bedroom: "Sasha, could you
get that? It's probably our breakfast."
Somewhat unnerving, but given what she had discovered, not
completely a surprise.
His surprise morning appearance shook her enough to stay the
conversation. She didn't have the nerve
to try and bring it up again until the plane ride home.
"That was quite an incident at the White House yesterday." She
began.
"Incident?" He asked,
the blankest of expressions on his face.
"The intruder." She said and he nodded slightly in recognition. She continued. "The FBI isn't use to people getting in under their radar. Then again, we are talking about the
Batman."
"Batman?" He asked,
his eyebrows knotted. "I heard Superman
in the building."
"Oh, Superman was there, but so was Batman. I saw him."
His eyes widened slightly.
An impressed look on his face.
"You *saw* him? Already?
Wow. I've only seen him like once or
twice and I've lived in Gotham my entire life!
Hmm. Wonder what he's doing in
Washington?" He asked absently. He suddenly seemed to become fascinated with
the few clouds that drifted past the window of the private Wayne Enterprises
jet.
She'd sighed. This
wasn't the right time.
The following day, he'd been occupied with meetings and
conferences. And when night fell, he
ditched her.
Again.
At least now she knew why.
Today was Saturday. He
didn't get out of bed until noon, and then busied himself doing… she didn't
know what. Wayne Manor was big enough
that she could go two days without seeing him if he really wanted.
But it was 6pm and for once she knew exactly where he was.
An hour earlier, she'd heard his defensive voice coming from
one of his many living rooms. Not
really meaning to eavesdrop, it became very obvious to her that over the phone
he was on the receiving end of a brutal tongue-lashing. She'd heard him call the other party a
'dick' only to be cut off again. Who
had the guns enough to cut *him* off?
She returned to her room to wait.
The extension line on her telephone told her that his
conversation was over.
It was time.
**********
Sasha opened the door to the living room to see her Primary
standing by the window. His elbow
rested on the high sill and his hand covered his mouth thoughtfully as he
stared out absently at the vast Wayne estate.
She was somewhat surprised at his apparently sombre
disposition. Gone was the blasé
attitude she was so used to seeing in his stature. He seemed somewhat lost… sad, she would almost say. She almost backed out again.
No, she told herself.
It's now or never.
She took a deep breath and mildly cleared her throat.
"Mi—Mister Wayne," she began.
"We need to have a talk."
For a moment he didn't move.
Then he straightened, coming to his full height, but his eyes never left
the window. His voice, when he spoke…
it made her jump slightly. Four or five
octaves lower and much more potent, it was not the voice of Bruce Wayne… at
least, not the Bruce Wayne she had known.
"I was wondering when you would get around to it." He said plainly, placing his hands behind
his back in a casual manner.
Sasha was slightly taken aback. She knitted her brow.
"Whuh—What?"
He turned his head slightly, just enough for him to look at
her from the corner of his eye. The
side of his mouth tugged up slightly.
"Knowing what I know you now know about me, do you really
think someone could go through my things without my noticing?"
Sasha's mouth moved but it took a moment before any sound
would come out.
"How did you…?
When…? When did you know?"
He faced the window again.
"The moment I returned to the hotel."
"…Oh."
There was an uncomfortable silence.
"I… I would guess that I'm not the first person to figure out
your… secret…"
"Correct."
"Are any of these others still breathing?" She asked in all seriousness.
"…Some."
She dropped her head.
"Will I be one of them?"
Bruce paused then turned to face her fully.
"You're still rather new to Gotham, Sasha. I'm afraid you've been misinformed about
me. I don't kill."
"You don't?"
"I don't need to."
"…Oh. …So… What are you planning to do… regarding me, I mean."
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"I'm not worried. I
trust you. And even if I didn't, I know
you're still honourable. Your oath as a
P.S.A. prevents you from divulging anything find out about me during the course
of your duties. And if you weren't
worried about honour, there's still your sense of professional pride. If you said anything, your career would be
over. And if *that* wasn't enough… I know you're not stupid.
"…I don't think I need to say anymore on that point."
"…I see."
"Don't worry. I'll
write you a glowing review. You'll be
able to get any post you want with any*one* you want. Under the circumstances I'm sure you'll agree that your presence
here is no longer required."
"On the contrary Mr. Wayne, I think you need me very much."
Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"Batman can take care of himself. There is no question in that.
Bruce Wayne on the other hand… he can't exactly be dodging bullets like
it was second nature. He's a carefree
playboy. What does he know about
self-defence? You need to maintain your
image.
"Besides, my knowing will make it easier on you. If I quit or you fire me, Mr. Fox will just
hire someone else and you'll have to go through this all again. Not to mention that with Alfred gone, you
need someone to help with your cover, to explain those little unexplainable
absences of yours."
Bruce folded his arms.
"You don't strike me as the type of woman who would be happy
taking a fluff job. You'd essentially
be getting paid for being a front woman.
I don't think that's what you want."
"Oh, don't get me wrong.
I see a possible benefit for me as well… if you would agree to it…" She
added cautiously.
"I'm listening."
She chewed on her lip, searching for the proper way to word
this.
"I'm a perfectionist."
She began. "All my life, I've
pushed myself harder and farther than everyone else around me. Through school, through the academy, the
Service, my training… I'm always
striving to improve myself… to reach the bar that I've set so high, I can't
even see it anymore." She paused and
looked down at her hands.
"I've learned all I can from conventional means. The top of my class, top of my field… but I
want more." She looked at him. "I want to learn to *be* the best, *from*
the best. That would be you."
"Learn what?"
"Anything.
Everything. Whatever you can
teach me. Fighting skills. Detective skills..."
"To what end? What
would you do with such knowledge?"
"I'd be better."
"Better?"
"Your knowledge and skill… it not only allows you to do you…
job, but it also increases your knowledge and control of yourself. Am I right?"
He gave a slight nod.
"That's what *I* want.
Better."
Bruce tapped his mouth thoughtfully with a finger. He turned to look out the window again.
"I'm a difficult teacher.
A harsh taskmaster. I'll expect
more from you than you think you have."
Bruce faced her again. "More
than once, there will be times when you are tempted to… make improper use of
some of the weapons in my arsenal… *Any* of my charges would be happy to tell
you about that."
Sasha held her chin out defiantly.
"I'm ready for anything." She said firmly.
The side of Bruce's mouth quirked up wickedly, causing the
hairs on the back of her neck to stand up.
"No you're not." He
said extending his hand. "But you will be."
She tentatively reached out and shook his hand.
"Welcome to *my* world." He said with *the voice*.
And Sasha had the sudden uneasy that she'd just jumped into
the river Styx with no boat, no oarsman and no one to help her out.
What have I gotten myself into?
End
Author's Note: I'm putting this up now because it's a sort of
*prequel* to another story I'm working on tentatively called "The
Assassin". DC will be dealing with the
whole "He knows that I know that he has Kevlar underwear" thing this week (I
think), so I just wanted to get my response to that out before they did. :)