Title: "Broken"
Author: Calico calico321@yahoo.com
Rating: R, for language and sexual situations
Summary: Almost twenty years went by between Bruce Wayne hanging up the mantle of the Bat and meeting Terry McGinnis, the new Batman. How exactly did he spend that time? This story is just a little 'what if' scenario set a few years after his last outing as Batman (as seen in 'Rebirth'), when he's just lost control of his company. Life after Batman – Can Bruce find happiness, or love, or is he destined to become that bitter old man prowling the night alone.
My apologies to Terry fans; this one's just about the old man.
Disclaimer: Batman and related characters belong to DC Comics and Warner Brothers. No copyright infringement intended.
And I don't want the world to see me
Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Iris, The Goo Goo Dolls
Car TroubleGotham City, 2024
A very agitated woman stood next to a run down car of a faded green color, it's rear left tire flat. The rusty 1999 Honda had seen its best days long before the woman had purchased it, but for the most part it ran well and got her where she wanted to go. Except for today. Had she known the tire was about to blow she would have taken the bus, or spent her last twenty dollars on a cab, but of course hindsight is said to be twenty-twenty. At the moment she was dressed in her best suit, tapping her sensible half-inch heeled shoe, and glancing at her watch to see her precious time draining away.
Her interview was scheduled in fifteen minutes and the large corporate headquarters were a scant four blocks away. Having been in Gotham for a little over a month without finding a job, she was desperate and was seriously considering hoofing it the remainder of the distance and letting the car deal with itself. Of course she had managed to coast into a "No Parking" zone and was almost guaranteed a ticket, if not a tow. She blew a huff of breath up to blow an errant strand of hair from her eyes. In a fit of pique caused by the indecision she delivered an angered blow with her foot to the Honda's fender causing her more pain than the ancient vehicle.
"Need a hand?" The deep masculine voice came from behind her and she yelped as she spun around to face the speaker. The first thing that came to mind on laying her eyes on him was 'Wow.' Tall and broad he seemed to fill up the entire sidewalk, blue eyes that accentuated a strong brow and a sensuous mouth above a firm, square jaw, but then she noticed his salt and pepper hair that was a lot more salt than pepper.
"Thanks, but it's just a flat. One of these days I'm going to have to learn how to fix them myself." The last part was muttered to herself, but he picked up on it easily enough.
"Maybe your husband should teach you how."
"Uh, not married. Anymore. I'll be fine. Thanks." She smiled just to prove to him how fine she would be, hoping he'd get the hint. He didn't.
"The tire obviously isn't going to change itself. Why don't you open your trunk so I can get out the spare."
She blinked a few times and looked at her watch, finally sighing in exasperation. The tire did have to be changed eventually. "Sure, okay, whatever," she said and went to the rear of the vehicle to unlock it.
He easily lifted the spare out and laid it against the car then returned for the jack. Twenty minutes later he was replacing it into the trunk and laying the useless tire atop. With a slam he turned to face her. "You'll need to get that repaired soon. Your spare won't last very long, but it'll get you where you need to go."
She checked her watch, knowing already what it would say. "'Fraid not. I needed to be there five minutes ago." Realizing she'd actually spoken the words out loud she cringed and said, "Sorry. I mean thank you, that was very kind."
With narrowed eyes he asked, "Where are you supposed to be?"
She waved him away. "Nothing important. Just a job interview. I'm sure something else'll come along."
"Where was the interview," he asked conversationally.
"Wayne Enterprises, in their billing department."
He smiled and she once again found her heart beat a little irregular. "I happen to know a few people there. How about I call and get you a new interview?"
"Really that's not necessary. You've done too much already. I don't want to bother you further."
"It's not a bother, I'd really like to help." He could see her wavering. "Please?"
She closed her eyes tightly for a moment and shook her head. Looking back at him with a tight smile she said, "Sure, I guess it couldn't hurt. Thanks. Again."
"Since you don't have any immediate plans, perhaps you could accompany me to lunch, and I can call from there?"
Her entire posture stiffened and any hint of a smile fell from her face. "Um, listen, Mr. ah…" she motioned with her hand, indicating she wanted his name.
"Bruce, you can call me Bruce."
"Right. Listen Bruce, let's just forget this. I actually do have a few things I can be doing."
"I'd really appreciate the company." She took a deep breath, prepared to be firm in her refusal, when her stomach growled noisily. Her resolve completely shattered, she bowed her head and let the giggles come freely. Low-blood sugar tended to make one dizzy. "Shall we?" He held an arm out to her.
"My car. It's in a tow-away zone. I can't afford to get it out of hock."
He nodded and reached into his pocket pulling out a small white business card and a pen. After scratching a few words on the back of the card, he placed it under the windshield wiper. "Now, any other obstacles?"
She just rolled her eyes and smiled.
He took her to a restaurant around the block that he had frequented for several years in the days that he had actually managed to make it in to work. Having just come from signing over his life's work to Derek Powers, Bruce Wayne was not in a good mood, but the sight of the frustrated young woman had actually given him something to take his mind off of losing control of his company.
Glancing to his right at the lady in question he took in her physical appearance. Shoulder length brown hair hung in soft curls and held out of her face by a headband. Her eyes were green, but he had noticed as she got more upset they seemed to darken to almost brown. The dove gray suit was nice, but he suspected second-hand. Her age, he estimated to be late twenties to early thirties. And she was hiding something. The detective in him couldn't help but want to get to the bottom of the mystery she posed.
Entering the restaurant, Bruce nodded to the maitre de who smiled back brilliantly. "It's been far too long, sir. Your usual table?" He led the two people to a secluded area in the back and handed them menus. "Your server will be along shortly. Enjoy your meal." With a slight bow, he moved off.
Bruce eyed the young lady over the menu. She frowned at her own for a moment and then closed it, setting it on the table in front of her. "Problem?" he asked.
"No. No problem. I'll just have a salad."
"Watching your figure?" he asked dryly.
"I happen to like salads. And as a matter of fact I hear this place has a fantastic salad."
"It's really okay for you to order anything you want. It's on me."
She smiled and nodded. "Salad."
The waiter arrived and Bruce gave him their orders. When the waiter had departed, Bruce turned back to her. "Do you think it's too presumptuous to ask your name? Especially since you already know mine."
Her head cocked to one side. "My name's Mardi. Mardi Purcell."
"Mardi?"
"It's French for Tuesday."
"I know. Unusual for a name."
"Well, my folks were kind of unusual. Family legend says I was conceived on Mardi Gras."
"And your middle name…?" he asked out of a perverse curiosity.
With an impish grin, she replied, "Grace."
He nodded in appreciation of the play on words. "So are you close to your parents?"
She gave a slight shrug. "They were part of the second wave of hippies in the nineties. After I was born, they joined the Peace Corps and traveled around Asia and Africa trying to make a better world. I lived with my grandmother. I was supposed to join them when I was old enough."
"What happened?" he asked.
She had taken a piece of bread from the basket in the middle of the table and started pulling at it, popping a bite into her mouth. She chewed for a second, and then swallowed. "My mother contracted malaria. They were so far into the jungle medical treatment wasn't readily available." Another bite, chew, swallow. She wasn't even looking at him anymore, just scanning the room and looking around at the other patrons. "Her fever spiked and she died. Dad came back and did the best he could for me. My grandmother died when I was in junior high school so it was just the two of us. I know he missed my mother terribly though."
"Do you still see him?"
The waiter brought their meals and she picked up her fork lifting a piece of lettuce to see what was underneath. "Artichokes? Who puts artichokes in a salad?" With a shrug she moved the offending pieces to the edge of the plate. "My father?" she asked once they had begun to eat. "A few years back he started forgetting things, really important things. Alzheimer's you know." Her eyes darted up to his in fear that she had somehow offended him. "I finally had to put him into a home. I go to visit a few times a year, not that it does any good. He doesn't know me from the nursing staff anymore."
"There are drugs that will help."
He shook her head, slowly finishing a bite of her food. "Drugs that have been tested on animals. He's very much against that. In one of his last lucid moments he made me promise never to allow the doctors to give him anything."
"And you have no other family?"
She frowned at him, but said, "No."
"What about your husband?"
Her fork made a clattering noise as it fell from her fingers onto the plate. Bruce noted he was not mistaken before; her eyes immediately darkened from a lovely shade of green to a deep brown as she said, in a voice like crushed glass, "What about him?"
"You mentioned you were married. What happened?"
"I don't see that as any of your business." She pulled the napkin from her lap and dabbed her mouth with it, as an unconscious gesture to compose herself. Then the tension seemed to seep out of her pores. "It's nothing really. He died in a car accident."
"I'm very sorry to hear that," he said with sincerity.
"Don't be. It was over eight years ago. We'd been married less than a year. I hardly think about it anymore." She stood. "If you'll excuse me, I have to use the ladies' room."
Bruce watched her as she walked towards the front of the restaurant, noting with objective pleasure the slight sway of her hips as she walked. He was half expecting her to leave the building altogether, but saw with a surprised relief that instead of turning left towards the exit, she went right, to the rest rooms. The waiter, seeing their meal finished, brought over the check, and Bruce took out his wallet, handing the young man a credit card. He asked for a telephone, which was obtained right away.
Punching in the numbers from memory, he asked to speak with the Director of Personnel. When the call was answered, he said, "Joe, this is Bruce Wayne."
"Mr. Wayne! What a pleasant surprise. It's been far too long. I was sorry to hear you were stepping down."
"It was time. You can't be in control forever you know."
"Perhaps, but you will be missed."
"Thank you. I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you?"
"Anything. Name it."
"There was a young lady who had an interview today, in the billing department?"
There was a sound of shuffling papers. "There were a few. Do you know her name?"
"Purcell."
"Ah, yes. Never showed up, I'm afraid."
"Well, that's the reason I'm calling. You see, it was my fault she couldn't make it. I'd consider it a personal favor if you could offer her another chance."
"No problem, though there looks to be a few other strong candidates."
"I'm not asking for any special consideration, just let her try." Bruce saw Mardi weaving her way around the tables and quickly concluded his conversation as she sat down. He smiled at her. "How does tomorrow at eleven sound?"
She blinked at him. "The job? You did it?" He nodded and the smile she gave showed a face that was incredibly beautiful, if somehow weighted down by worry, presumably involving money.
The waiter returned with Bruce's credit card and receipt, which he signed with an impatient hand, adding a generous tip. Seeing it, the waiter said, "Thank you Mr. Wayne. We hope to see you again," and turned to leave.
"Wayne!" she shrieked, loud enough so that the young man jumped a little before moving on. "Your name is Bruce Wayne? As in Wayne Enterprises? What kind of game are you playing? Oh you don't just know somebody – you own the whole damned company!"
"Not anymore," he simply said.
"Not anymore what?"
"I no longer own the company. Derek Powers has succeeded in buying up enough shares of Wayne Enterprises stock to take over. When I met you this morning I was coming back from handing the keys over, so to speak." He leaned forward. "I didn't get you the job. You'll have to do that for yourself. Do you think you're up to it?"
She bit her lower lip in uncertainty and embarrassment. "I don't know," she said softly.
"Well you'd better be. I pride myself on being a good judge of character. I'd rather not be proved wrong on this point." He stood from his chair and straightened his suit jacket. "I'll walk you back to your car."
They walked the block and a half in silence. She was visibly relieved to see the vehicle was still on the street. She turned to him. "Thank you. For everything."
"It was my pleasure. Good luck on your interview." He continued up the street and Mardi watched his departure with an odd mixture of relief and anxiety.
She turned to her car and saw the small white rectangle under the windshield wiper. Gingerly she reached out and released it. On the front side of the expensive cardstock in embossed letters read "Bruce Wayne, CEO, Wayne Enterprises." She flipped it over and saw in distinct cursive handwriting, "Please send any fines directly to me." He had included an address and telephone number, and signed his name at the bottom. She shook her head and shoved the card into her handbag before getting into the car and driving home.