Title:  "Raven's Cry"

Author:  Calico calico321@yahoo.com

Rating: R – for language and violence involving rape

Summary:  Batman investigates a horrible crime that is somehow connected to Bruce Wayne's love life.

            "Where is that lovely date of yours, Bruce?" Emma Stearns asked with a sip of champagne.

            "Well, uh, I don't know," he replied vaguely as he looked about the large ballroom.  His own glass dangled loosely from his fingertips where it had been since he'd picked it up twenty minutes before.  In a little while he would replace it with a fresh one, laughing as he did so to make a pretense of inebriation.  He blinked as he lazily regarded the faces around him, feeling slightly ill at ease.  Rebecca had been gone for over an hour.

            Normally he wouldn't be bothered so much by a date's disappearance, but things with Rebecca had been a little different than most of his dates.  She was a typical socialite, yes, but she had a remarkable range of topics that she could discuss, surprisingly most of which not involving herself, and he'd found he could actually enjoy conversing with her.  Money and good breeding had given her an air of elegance, but she was also genuinely pretty, with strawberry-blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a fresh, innocent smile.  With her easy-going demeanor, she did not hassle him if he failed to call her following any of their outings, and she would not rake him over the coals should he mysteriously disappear with only the vaguest of excuses.  Most importantly she hadn't tried to immediately wrangle him into bed like most debutantes, looking to get a trophy night out of the famed billionaire bachelor.  On the contrary, she seemed more than satisfied with the goodbye kisses in his car, though they were becoming more and more passionate.  She had been such an easy choice in the season's round of parties that they had become the talk of the town, many gossip columnists speculating on when he would pop the question.  And that was the problem.  He feared she too was speculating.

            She really was such a nice girl, it was a shame he was going to have to break up with her this evening.  He had considered a long-term romance with her, perhaps even an engagement, that would help maintain his social cover, but that would pose its own set of difficulties.  He kept women at an arm's length for a specific reason, and even as understanding as she was now, he didn't think it would take very long at all for her curiosity to get the better of her.  It was far too dangerous a game to play.  And then there was the emotional aspect.  It wasn't fair to lead her on knowing he could never reciprocate.  Even though he was attracted to her, even though he enjoyed spending time with her, love was never an option.

            Bruce plucked a canapé off the tray of a passing waiter and looked around once again for her face.  "You know Bruce," Emma said from his right.  "You two make such an adorable couple.  I'm surprised it took you this long to start seeing each other."

            He gave her his goofy, lop-sided grin.  "Well you know how these things are Emma.  You pass the same people everyday without even noticing them, and then voila!  It's like you're seeing them for the first time."  He waved his hand extravagantly.

            Emma threw her head back and laughed.  And that had been the case.  The Raven's had actually been friends of his family for years, though Rebecca had been just a baby when his parents were murdered.  Then he'd gone off on his personal quest and returned to start his lives, both public and private.  She had been sent off to Switzerland for finishing school in her late teens, preferring to stay in Europe after graduating to the noise and congestion of Gotham.  But she still came back from time to time and one evening earlier in the year, at a party thrown by Missy Van Kleet, she'd walked up to him with her hand held out.  "Rebecca Raven," she'd boldly introduced herself, blushing ever so slightly.

            His escort for that event had thrown an entire plate of goose liver pâté at him when she found them talking out on the terrace catching up on old family gossip.  Rebecca had just laughed and helped him brush the meaty spread off his suit jacket.  He had found her to be a truly nice person who didn't have a mean word to say about anyone, unlike the catty comments he was used to hearing from the women in his circle.  He'd developed an immediate rapport with her and they had started dating soon after.  Lunches at the country club, golfing with her parents while they were in the country, and all the Gotham social parties you could want.  She really was perfect for Bruce Wayne, and he sighed realizing he was going to have to start afresh with a new set of bimbos and their constant narcissistic chatter.

            He glanced impatiently at his watch again, about to go look for her, when a hand gripped his elbow.  He turned to see the headwaiter standing there with a paled, pinched expression.  "Mr. Wayne," he said tightly.  "If I may see you outside for a moment?"

            "What's the matter?" he said immediately on edge.

            "Please Mr. Wayne, if you'll come with me.  There has been an…incident."

            "Incident?  What kind of…Does this have something to do with Rebecca?"

            There was a small nod and the man pulled on his arm.  "This way, Sir."

            Bruce paced in front of the hospital door, fists clenched, his black tie undone and hanging down with the top two buttons of his shirt unclasped.  His hair stood up on end from running his hands through it constantly.  His teeth ground together and he wanted to punch something, anything.

            Hospital staff, clad in colorful scrubs, rushed by him, going about the mundane business of keeping people healthy.  Their crepe-soled shoes squeaked in their wake, which is why he knew the clicking footsteps behind him did not belong to a doctor or nurse.  A slight off-step was caused by a limp he probably didn't even realize he had.  Then there was the smell of the pipe tobacco he'd been trying unsuccessfully to quit for years.  "Commissioner Gordon," Bruce commented before even turning to acknowledge the policeman's arrival.

            Jim Gordon's face showed an understandable surprise.  "Mr. Wayne, how did you know…?"

            "I saw your reflection in the glass," he said and motioned to a window he hadn't been anywhere near.

            "Oh."  Gordon squared his shoulders and looked Bruce directly in the eye.  "I'm so sorry about this.  We're doing everything possible to keep it quiet."

            "But you're going to find out who did this right?" Bruce pleaded.

            "Definitely.  I promise you I'll have every available man on this."  Bruce nodded and looked back towards her door.  The doctor said she was still unconscious.  He wouldn't be able to see her until she woke up.  "Uh, Mr. Wayne, I need to show you something, something that may help us in figuring out who did this."

            Bruce frowned, but nodded.  Gordon reached into his coat and pulled out a small clear, plastic evidence bag.  Inside was a piece of paper with several scrawled words.  He took the bag and read what was on the note.

            How does Wayne like his whore now?

            He blinked at it almost incoherently, blood pounding in his ears.  "Where did you get this?" he managed to get out.  His tongue felt thick and dry in his mouth.

            "It was found next to her body.  I'm sorry to have to do this to you."

            "No, no it's fine," he lied.   "The note is meant for me," he stated.

            "It appears so," the older man said sadly.  "Does it mean anything to you?"

            Bruce raised an eyebrow.  "Doesn't ring a bell, Commissioner."

            Gordon nodded hastily and shoved the bag back into his jacket.  They stood in silence for a while longer, until the door opened and a young female doctor peaked out.  "Mr. Wayne?" she asked quietly.  "She's woken up.  You can come in for a moment.  Just try not to upset her, okay?"

            He was at the door in two strides, Gordon immediately behind him.  The room was darkened, with only a soft reading lamp on in the corner.  Bruce rushed to the bedside.  She turned her head towards him and reached out a hand that he grasped.  "Bruce?  What happened?  What's going on?"

            "It's going to be okay, Becky," he soothed.  "What do you remember?"

            She reached up and gingerly touched her face, which was a swollen patchwork quilt of bruises and cuts.  A splint was taped across the bridge of her broken nose.  He already knew that several teeth were cracked or missing.

            He caressed the back of her hand with his thumb as she closed her eyes and shifted uncomfortably.  "I don't know.  I remember getting ready for the party and waiting for you, but after that it all becomes fuzzy.  Were we in a car accident?"

            He shook his head and glanced up at the doctor, who nodded briefly.  "Becky we were at the party.  Someone found you in a back bedroom.  You had been," he paused and took a deep breath.  "You had been attacked.  And, and…"  He shut his eyes, unable to tell her the worst of it.

            "Bruce," she cried in alarm.  "What are you trying to say?"

            "I'm sorry Becky.  You were raped."

            "No," she wept and turned away from him, sobbing.  "No, no, no," she repeated over and over. 

            "I'm sorry," he repeated.  "I've called your parents.  They'll be here in the morning."

            She turned back to him, eyes wide and blazing.  "You're lying!" she spat.

            Bruce shook his head sadly, willing away her pain, wanting to do anything to turn the clock back.  If he'd only gone to look for her, maybe he could have prevented this.

            "Why are you lying to me?" she cried even harder.

            "I'm not, Becky.  You know that."

            "Yes you are!  Why are you doing this to me…?"  Then she gasped sharply and stared at the ceiling in shock and horror.  "Oh my god," she moaned.

            "Becky?"

            She clenched her eyes together and started to sob even harder.  "Oh god.  I remember.  'Why are you doing this to me?'  That's what I asked him, when, when, when…" her words fell off into hiccups.  Gently he brushed back her hair.

            "It's okay," he whispered to her.

            Eventually the sobs died down.  "Oh Bruce."  She looked at him with sad eyes.  "I'm so sorry."

            "You have nothing to be sorry about," he said and tried his best to smile at her.  Then he glanced up and remembered Gordon was still in here.  "Becky, the police would like to ask you some questions.  Can you handle that?"

            "I suppose."  She pulled herself up on the bed.

            "Miss Raven," Gordon nodded politely to her.  "Do you remember what he looked like?"

            She shook her head.  "It was dark.  He, ah, came up behind me when I came out of the restroom.  He picked me up and carried me into the room, kicking the door shut behind us, then threw me down on the bed.  The lights were completely off and the drapes drawn.  I couldn't see a thing."

            "Did he say anything to you?"

            She paused and then nodded.  "A lot.  He said a lot of really horrible things."  She sighed and turned away.  "He said I was like all the others, who'd been bought by his power and money.  I was just a…just a…whore who'd sold out to the highest bidder."  She licked her lips, wincing.  "He was so…cold, so awful."

            The two men shared an uncomfortable glance.  "Is there anything else you can remember?  Anything that could help us identify him?"

            "I don't know," she answered tiredly.

            "I think she's had enough for one evening, gentlemen," the doctor reproached from behind.

            "Alright.  You sleep.  I'll be by tomorrow to see you," Bruce told her.

            "Please don't."

            He was taken aback.  "Becky…"

            "I just need to be alone right now, Bruce.  I'm sorry."

            "Very well.  I'll respect your wishes.  But if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me."

            She nodded, but continued to keep her face away from him.  After one last squeeze of her hand he moved to join Gordon at the door.  He reached for the handle when she called out, "I bit him."

            "Excuse me?" Gordon asked.

            "He covered my mouth with his hand.  I bit it.  Hard.  That's when he punched me in the nose.  Does that help?"

            "It might.  Try to get some sleep, Miss Raven.  I'll have a female officer visit you tomorrow.  Maybe you'll be able to speak with her after you've rested."  She nodded and they filed out the door.

            The doctor looked at Bruce apologetically.  "Try not to take it personally, Mr. Wayne.  Rape victims often push away those closest to them.  I'm sure she'll come around soon."

            "Thank you, Doctor," he answered before she walked away.

            "I'll keep in touch, Bruce," Gordon said.  "We'll get to the bottom of this.  You have my word."

            "I know, Commissioner.  I know."  Silently they rode the elevator to the lobby together and parted ways.  Jim Gordon didn't know it, but they would be seeing each other again very soon.