Disclaimer… I do not own anything to do with Batman, copyright wise. Also, the songs I use in this fic belong to those that own them. Eleanor Black, her family and this plot are mine. This fic is rated for language and some sexual situations; nothing too graphic though, because it's just a sweet little Christmas fic I'm writing because I'm in the holiday spirit. I really like it and I hope you do to.
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Song: "I'll Believe You When" by Matchbox 20
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Our Songs
Day One //
She had been gone for almost a year, and it felt strange to be looking down at the sprawling blackness of Gotham City. The towers of factory smoke and the spires of downtown reached up towards the sky, and the islands of the city stood out in twinkling flashes against the falling light of sunset, almost calling her back. There was so much crime and sadness down there, but there were many good memories to counter, and oh, how she missed those good times. Eleanor Black sighed as she remembered, settling her head against the cold airplane window and blinked back the unexpected tears; despite all that had happened, she was happy to be returning.
A year ago, Eleanor had decided she needed a break. From everything. So, she had gone on a vacation, starting in Europe and working her way to Africa, then Asia and back to Europe. She hadn't had any idea of how she would be away for, but Lucius Fox, the man who ran Wayne Enterprises, who was also a close friend of her family's, had given her a temporary leave for up to a year. Eleanor had used up almost all that time, and had enjoyed every minute of it. And she hadn't had any communication with anyone from Gotham, not even her parents. She knew that her return would bring a lot of not-seriously-angry questions about her lack of contact. She also knew that it was getting close to Christmas, and everyone would be in the spirit, especially her mother, who was, in two words, Christmas-crazy.
"Hello ladies and gentlemen – this is your pilot speaking. We are approaching Gotham City International airport and we will being our descent in about twenty minutes. Please return to your seats and buckle your seat belts, and enjoy the rest of the flight."
Eleanor sighed again and settled back into her first-class seat, closing her eyes. The familiar feeling of excitement bubbled up behind her breastbone and she squirmed slightly, trying to make it settle. She knew why she was excited, and his face wouldn't leave the back of her eyelids. Bruce Wayne. God, Eleanor. Give it up. Thankfully, the images went away, but the excitement wouldn't subside. There was something hanging over her head, and that feeling that something was going to happen wouldn't go away.
Exactly twenty minutes later, the plane's nose dipped down, as did the right wing, and the runway of the airport briefly flashed by Eleanor's window. A few moments after that, the plane was smoothly gliding into the proper gate and the passengers were moving in a organized hoard down the walkway and into the main airport and shuffled towards the baggage claim. Eleanor realized she really had to go to the bathroom, but she didn't want to leave in case the bags came down when she was gone and they were taken by someone else. She shoved the handle of her carry-on bag into the zippered compartment and sat on top of it, crossing one leg over the other and popping her chin in her hand.
A bark caught her attention as the baggage claim began to move and she looked to her right where a dark grey Siberian husky sat, wagging his tail and panting. Unwanted tears jumped into her eyes at the sight. Blaze, her husky, had been killed before she'd left, when a high speed chase had ripped down the street by the park, just as Blaze had bounded out, ready to go home. He hadn't even gone out on the road – the escaping driver had gone up on the sidewalk. The death of her beloved dog had been the last straw to send her on her year-long journey.
The whirs of the baggage line and the sporadic clunks of bags brought her attention back to the present, and she angrily wiped the tears off her face, focusing on the colourful luggage in front of her. It took several minutes before her bright, ultramarine blue bags rolled into view and she hoisted them off the conveyor and started rolling towards the nearest bathroom. After she was relieved, she stood for a while, in front of the mirror, staring at herself, cobalt eyes and red-brown hair, and wondered at all the memories she had suppressed and at how fast they had come back. For almost a year, she had become someone else entirely: she had had a different life, different friends, different cares. As soon as she had set foot back on the soil of her hometown, everything had flooded back and she had become exactly who she was before. Was that a bad thing? She wasn't sure.
Out front of the airport, she hailed a cab and, with the help of the driver, loaded her bags into the trunk and climbed into the backseat, giving the address of her loft as she moved. The car drove away and Eleanor leaned her head back against the top of the seat and sighed once again, keeping her eyes open and watching the dark Gotham buildings fly by.
Her loft was almost a half-hour drive from the airport. Eleanor had the urge to phone someone, but her cell was in her loft; she hadn't had that urge in a very long time. She was beginning to realize that the city did weird things to people.
"Here we are Miss. Fee is thirty dollars."
Eleanor handed him two twenties, got his help to unload her bags, and proceeded inside to the elevator. She pressed the button for the top floor and leaned against the wall, the exhaustion from jet lag settling in fully. All she wanted to do was get upstairs and fall into her bed and sleep for hours and hours. She knew there would be things to do though. Or, things she should do. At that moment, Eleanor was seriously considering leaving those things until the morning. The jolt from the elevator stopping served to wake her up slightly, and she stumbled down the hallway to her door.
There was a pristine sheet of decorative white paper taped to her door.
Eleanor dropped her bags and gently pulled the note off the door and read the fancy computer font.
Eleanor,
If you're reading this, you've made it home safely. That's good to know. I, among
others, have missed you a great deal and are not very pleased with you lack of
communication. But, as a welcome home present, I've prepared for you a game of
sorts. Just go to North City Park tomorrow at three in the afternoon, and you should
get the idea.
As if the note wasn't strange enough, the lyrics to a song were typed beneath it. They were obviously to send a message of some sort. A message that maybe the writer couldn't put into words.
I've tried so many times I'll believe you when
To tell you how I feel
But you're far too disbelieving
Are you trying to get even with me
Maybe once or twice
I wasn't fair I wasn't nice
But now I've got myself together
When I promise to be better
You say
I'll believe you when
When everything you say don't turn out wrong
I could call you every day I could write up in the sky
Give presents by the score
And I could send you pretty flowers
Have them waiting at your door
Forgive me I apologize
Still if I went through every measure
With my promise To Be Better
You'd say
I'll believe you when
I'll believe you when
When everything you say don't turn out wrong
After a moment of staring in disbelief at the note, Eleanor proceeded inside her loft where once again, she dropped her bags. Sitting on the table, large and red, was a box which looked like a present. The note fluttered to the hardwood floor as she carefully approached the box, adrenaline and fear beginning to pump through her veins. In Gotham, it wouldn't be that strange for a bomb to appear inside someone's house for no apparent reason. Gotham had more than its share of weirdoes. Eleanor kept that in mind as she sat on the couch in front of the gift.
"What in the world could it be?" Eleanor wondered to herself. Out of habit, she reached her hand out pet a dog that would have been there, and then sadly brought her hand back to her lap and folded it into her other one. "Who could it be from?"
Eleanor sleepily debated opening the box before she finally lifted one corner of the lid and peeked inside. The lights hanging from the ceiling glinted off a red fabric and Eleanor eagerly pushed the lid the rest of the way off, and pulled out the most gorgeous dress she'd ever seen. It was a deep red with a faint shimmer. As Eleanor stood up, holding the dress in front of her, it fell almost to the floor, hovering less than half an inch above it. There was no back, only straps under her arms and around her shoulders to hold it in place, and the neckline plunged to what would be about between her breasts.
"What is this?"
Eleanor fell back onto the couch, holding the dress in her lap, contemplating who could arrange something like this. Who had had access to her apartment over the year she wasn't here? Only the young man across the hall, Matthew, who offered to collect her mail, water her plants, and all that fun stuff. Her parents had a key, but they would never have done something like this. So, unless someone let the person responsible for this inside – and there were only a very few people her parents or Matthew would know they could let into her loft – Eleanor had no idea how to even start looking for the "culprit". The next question she had to ask was, who could afford the dress she held? It was a designer dress, and it was definitely not cheap. She knew a lot of people with money, but when combined with the fact that they would have had to have been to her loft before so someone would know they could be let in, the list was narrowed down to… Well, no one Eleanor could think of.
No, that was incorrect.
There was one person.
But that didn't make any sense. He wouldn't do something like this. Bruce Wayne was so into his fake playboy-billionaire façade, at least, he had been when she'd left, and he had also been more interested in Rachel Dawes.
"It can't be Bruce, there's just no way."
She stood back up, refolded the dress into the box and then headed into the bathroom to have a hot shower before going to bed. The only thing she could do to figure out who was behind this was follow it to the end. But it was stupid. She found herself getting excited over the idea of going to the park tomorrow afternoon, but she forced herself not to. She forced herself to not allow a childish aspect take over. When she finished her shower, she fell into bed, trying not to dream of what could be in the box tomorrow.
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Author's Note… Yeah, it's on time Shauna. Kinda. It's 12:17 am right now. We'll see if I can get this done in time for Christmas. And the chapters are going to be about this length. Kinda middle length. Enjoy. And yeah, it kinda doesn't make much sense right now, but give it a chance, OK?