DARK SECRETS AND GOLD LOCKETS
By Calico calico321@yahoo.com
Rating: R
Summary: Sequel to 'Resurgence', you'll need to read that first or you're going to be very lost. Everyone has dark secrets, what happens when they collide? This borrows heavily from 'Mask of the Phantasm' so beware of spoilers if you haven't seen it before.
Disclaimer: DC Comics and Warner Brothers own Batman and the related characters, but since they don't seem to care about them anymore I think we should give them good homes. Kendra is my creation (as if anyone else would lay claim to her) and this is my own story, please request permission before archiving.
Part I
August
*ring*
"Hello?"
"Hey McGinnis what's happening?"
"Max! How's Boston? You settled into MIT yet?"
"Well it's no Gotham, but it'll do. Classes are great, but MIT's full of computer nerds."
"Then you should fit right in."
"McGinnis!"
"Well you were the president of the Statistics Club."
"That's treasurer, dreg, and don't dis the Stats. What's up with you? Heard from Dana?"
"I got a postcard from Milan last week. She and Chelsea are having a blast."
"Any idea when they'll be back?"
"They've enrolled in design school. Probably won't be until the end of the year."
"That's too bad. What about you? Now that the summer's over have you decided what you're going to do?"
"Not a clue. But at least all this free time gives me plenty of crime fighting opportunities."
"Well it's not like you have to work at a real job. Speaking of work, I was surprised to catch you at home. Mr. Wayne give you the night off?"
"I'll go out later. He's taking Kendra to the symphony."
"Why?"
"She wanted to go."
"How many times have they been out?"
"I dunno, three or four, including her birthday. And don't make it sound like they're dating Max."
"Why not?"
"Because it's just wrong. He's like 200 years older than her."
"Some women like older men."
"Older maybe, but not petrified. It's weird though. I think she reminds him of something. After he's seen her he goes through his old case files like he's looking for something. I just don't know what else he sees in her."
"So you're saying you haven't come across them kissing yet?"
"Max! Thanks a lot for putting that image in my head. Now I'm going to have nightmares for a week."
She chuckled. "Later McGinnis."
"Bye Max. Stay in touch."
They were seated at a table in Chez Noire, the most exclusive restaurant in Gotham, an eating establishment so posh reservations had to be made months in advance, but where there was always a standing table under the name Wayne.
It was late, having just attended the Gotham Symphony Orchestra's rendition of Vivaldi's 'Four Seasons', but the dining room was still packed, lit by strategically placed candles and muted stage lighting, soft music drifting down from hidden speakers. It was meant to be romantic, but romance was lost on the old. She sat across from him, hair piled up on her head reflecting gold and red in the flickering light and droning on about some nonsense that could best be described as post-adolescent insanity. He had tuned her out after the first few sentences out of fear that the monologue would induce a cardiac arrest. But that didn't mean he didn't enjoy her company. On the contrary, he had frequent enjoyable conversations with her, times where she wasn't overcompensating for the tension at home; Bruce suspected things hadn't been normal in the Baker household for a long time. Nonetheless those times paled in comparison to the rest, when her stubborn streak made it impossible to take her seriously.
Like tonight, for instance, as the waiter was asking for her order she replied, "I'd like a hamburger please, extra tomatoes, no onions. And make it rare. That's pink in the middle in case you've forgotten."
"No mademoiselle, I have not forgotten. You are aware this is a French restaurant, non, especially noted for the Duck a l'Orange?"
"Yes and it was fabulous when I had it on my sixteenth birthday, however tonight I fancy a burger. Is that ok with you? It's not illegal is it?"
"No mademoiselle, and your burger will be tres pink. And for the monsieur?"
Wayne ordered the coq au vin then asked, "And what wine would you recommend for ground beef?"
With a grimace the waiter replied, "Well monsieur, there's a Beaujolais that works very well with steak tar tare." Bruce nodded his approval at the suggestion and the man returned to give the kitchen their order. Bruce could almost hear the chef scream in annoyance.
He looked over the table at the young woman sitting across from him. Every time he encountered her it was with a mixture of dread and anticipation, but also a strange sense of déjà vu, something tickling the back of his mind. His reaction to her was an unsettling puzzle he was determined to crack.
She was grinning at him and he thought for the millionth time that she had to be the most exasperating individual he'd ever known, excepting perhaps for the Joker, but that wasn't by much. But that didn't stop the pull of his heart when he looked into her eyes or saw her smiling. "What?" he growled.
"At least I'm a cheap date, right?"
"Hardly. How has school been?" he asked simply, directing the conversation to a different topic.
"Well, switching majors half-way through isn't on my top ten list of things I'd like to do again. Two weeks into the semester and I'm already lost. It isn't that I'm not grateful for the scholarship but I think I'm making a huge mistake."
"You're not thinking of quitting are you?"
Frowning, she looked into her lap and gripped the napkin. "It's a lot more work than I'm used to. Doesn't allow much time for a social life. A girl's got to have her priorities you know."
"You'd throw away your future because you can't go out on dates?" His voice grew harsh.
She looked back up at him, a smile erasing the tension from her face, and batted her eyelashes. "Oh Bruce, you know I only have eyes for you. I'm not saying any such thing. It just takes a lot to get used to that's all. Listen there's something I've got to talk to you about. It's really important." He nodded for her to continue. "Well, Mom's decided that hanging around Gotham is just too much for her, you know since Dad flew the coop. So she's taking Sam and moving out west. They're leaving tomorrow. The house has been sold. And since the semester has already started all on-campus housing is booked solid, the waiting list is a mile long. Any off-campus places are going to be dumps and probably cost an arm and a leg. So as of tomorrow I'm essentially homeless." She stopped and smiled knowingly at him.
"And?" he prompted feeling a little like a mouse waiting for the cat to pounce.
"And you've got all those rooms just collecting dust. I'd be quiet, you wouldn't even know I was there, plus I could keep you company. We could play Parcheesi in your spare time," she finished with a wink.
He simply stared at her in response to the absurd request but somehow knowing he couldn't say no to her. He'd found that the one word he'd used so often with his 'family' in the past just didn't work with her, nor, he was beginning to find, did he want it to.
A few nights later the dreams started.
"My name's Bruce Wayne."
"I know, the Boy Billionaire. So tell me, with all that money and power, why do you always look like you want to jump off a cliff?"
"Why should you care?"
"I don't. Mother was asking."
***
"It's been three days since we met and still no calls. I figured you must be dead or something."
"You expect every guy you meet to call you up?"
"The ones who are smart enough to dial a phone."
***
"I need it to be different now. I know I made a promise but I didn't see this coming. I didn't count on being happy. Please tell me it's ok!"
"Maybe they already have. Maybe they sent me."
***
"Marry me. What do you say?"
"Of course I will! I never thought this would happen. I felt like you never knew what to do with me because I wasn't in the plan."
"You are now. I'm changing the plan."
***
"You still following orders from your father?"
"The way I see it the only one in this room still controlled by his parents is you."
One week later…
It was dark when he woke up. He'd lain down after an early supper for a few hours sleep and now he had to get downstairs, Terry must be patrolling already.
He walked to the window, made reflective by the endless night outside. The dreams lingered and in spite of the darkness he witnessed the scene below him play out as if in broad daylight. Ace stood at his side and he idly scratched at the great dog's ears while his mind drifted back.
A man in his mid twenties wearing a white gi stands on the lush lawn practicing intricate martial arts movements. A young woman walks up and asks, "What is that?"
"Jujitsu," he responds without breaking his concentration.
"Gesundheit," she says. He glares over his shoulder. "That was a joke," she explains.
"Jujitsu is no joke. It takes years of practice to master." She takes a quick step forward and grabs his outstretched arm easily tossing him to the ground. "Hey!" he cries out in surprise.
"I've got a few moves of my own," she calls over her shoulder. "Miss Hovey's self-defense class for girls." He laughs to her chagrin and deftly scissors out his legs entangling her own, causing her to fall back on the grass next to him. Quickly he covers her with a satisfied smile. "Nice footwork," she says after composing herself. "Can you dance too?" In response he leans down for a kiss.
Wayne let out an uneasy breath. The dreams had opened a floodgate of memories. Ace chuffed in a wordless question. Gazing down at his canine companion he said, "I know it's almost impossible, but there's still a chance." The dog looked at him. "For once I've got to ask questions that I'm afraid of what the answers will be." Ace whined at the tone of his master's voice. He'd already made a preliminary background check on Vivian Baker, but it was if the woman didn't exist. All he could find was her marriage license, and there was evidence of tampering within the system. Someone wanted her past to remain in the past.
In the study he found Kendra sitting at the large desk, her laptop computer open with a molecular model floating freely on the screen. She was chewing on the end of her pencil and scowling at the picture before her. She made a few marks on a piece of paper then entered a command on the keyboard. A beep informed her she'd entered the incorrect answer. Throwing the pencil onto the desk she hissed a few unladylike words. She finally looked up and noticed him watching her from the door. "I don't know what possessed me to think I could do this! I don't even have half a brain in my head. Maybe I should try something more suited to my talents, like…street mime." He walked over to the desk and looked at what she was working on. Poking her finger in the air three times she suggested, "Insert joke here."
"Organic chemistry?" he asked and she nodded. He reached over a punched a few keys. "You have to insert your covalent bonds in diametric intervals." The computer accepted the entry and flashed CORRECT across the screen.
Rolling her head back on the large chair she muttered, "Show off."
He leaned back against the desk and looked down on her. "Tell me about your mother's family."
With furrowed brow she said, "Where did this come from?"
"Humor me."
She opened her mouth to crack some joke, but there was a look in his eyes that caused her to bite back the urge. Instead she looked down at her lap and said quietly, "There's not much family to talk about."
"Grandparents?" he prompted.
"Well just a grandmother actually." She licked her lips, and then laughed weakly. "She found herself in the family way without benefit of matrimony, if you know what I mean. It's sort of our family secret. Mother practically has convulsions at the mere mention of it." She thought for a moment and continued. "After Gram found out about the baby she settled down in Switzerland and raised her. Mom eventually came to Gotham on her own and met my dad. Up till ten years ago we went back to visit every summer. Those were the best times. Dad always complained that Gram and I were like carbon copies." She smiled distantly and shook her head.
"What happened? Why did you stop going?"
Her eyes were sad, and her voice pained. "If you must know, my grandmother went insane and killed herself."
She failed to notice his sharp intake of breath. "Insane?"
She nodded her head. "It was awful. That last summer she would shout or cry at things we couldn't see. She'd be begging someone to forgive her, it was so sad." Kendra bit her lip. She turned her face up to him, eyes wide.
"Did you know that your mother's background has been virtually erased from public record?"
"What are you talking about? Why are you checking up on my mother?"
"How old is she?"
She jumped up. "No! No, no, no! No more answers for you until I know what's going on."
Grudgingly he responded to her. "Your grandmother's name was Andrea Beaumont." It wasn't a question. She nodded, stunned. "I knew her. Many years ago."
"Knew her? As in an old school chum or the sister of a friend, right? C'mon Bruce what are you getting at here?"
Turning his back on her, he moved over to the sofa and sat down. "We were engaged, briefly," he said avoiding her eyes.
She quickly came over to face him. "Engaged?" she breathed, heart pounding in her ears.
"How old is your mother, Kendra?" he asked again, softly.
With a groan she replied, "She tells everyone she's 39 but she'll actually be 45 next April." He closed his eyes. "Oh god, you're saying…?" She couldn't finish.
"I think so. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" She turned and started pacing in front of him. "After all these years I find out my grandfather is a lonely old man who wouldn't know a good time if it came up and sat on his lap." She turned and walked in the other direction, arms flailing, voice rising. "My grandfather used to run around in tights and a cape beating up bad guys! Oh no." She stopped and placed a hand on her eyes. "Dammit."
"What?"
"Migraine." Turning she retraced her steps to stand before him. "My grandfather is…" She pointed her finger at him. "You?" Her voice cracked, and he could see that she was shaking, her breathing was rapid and shallow, her pupils dilated. She was becoming hysterical. He grabbed her hand and gently pulled her down to sit next to him. The physical contact helped dispel the rising panic within her and she collapsed against the back, taking in gasps of air. "Oh this is so demented," she whispered.
"Yes."
"How did you know?"
"I think I somehow knew from the beginning. The similarities between the two of you are almost uncanny. It explains my…" He shook his head. Infatuation he was going to say, but he didn't want to go there now; he could never go there again. "However, Andi was a great deal more refined."
She shrugged. "So I flunked charm school." Leaning closer she asked, "What happened between you two?"
He told her an abbreviated version of meeting Andrea Beaumont, eventually proposing and then receiving the ring back the very next day as she disappeared inexplicably. Ten years later her reappearance in his life coincided with the mysterious phantom-like character who'd started killing off gangsters. Too late did he find out that it was she avenging the death of her father and their own lost love. He'd failed to sway her from her need for vengeance, was forced to protect the life of the man he loathed more than all others against her, and any hope for them had been lost. "I didn't know if she were alive or dead. I had no idea about the baby."
"Would it have made a difference?"
"I don't know," he said slowly. Looking at her he said, "But I would have taken care of her, she wouldn't have been alone."
"You loved her?"
"Yes, very much." He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He held it towards her. Lying in his palm was a gold-filigreed locket. "She left this for me the last time. Open it." Taking it, gently she popped the latch and pushed the lid open with her finger. The picture inside showed two young people in each other's arms smiling happily into the camera. She sighed as she put a fingertip to the decades old photograph. "I want you to have it."
A tear slipped down her cheek as she said, "Thank you." She cleared her throat. "I'll have to tell my mother eventually." He nodded. "She won't be very happy about it. Don't expect her to come running back with open arms." He stood up and headed to the door. "I know this must be hard for you, having been alone for so long. I won't mind if you just want to keep quiet for now. Maybe it would be better for the both of us if you did."
"Finish your homework," he said in response. "I'll help you later." Then he was gone.
She looked down at the locket. "Well Gram, at least we have the same taste in men." She closed it and slipped the chain around her neck before returning to the desk to tackle organic chemistry again.
October
"This was the third attack in four weeks. They're calling the guy FireBrand. Witnesses describe him as dressed completely in red except for a black executioner's hood."
"Why don't they call him the Executioner?" Terry wondered out loud.
"Because he leaves his victims branded." Wayne touched a key on the console causing the monitor of the giant computer to flash with an image of a man's back, a strange symbol raised in charred flesh.
"Oh that's harsh!" Terry exclaimed. He leaned his head to the side. "What does the number 8 mean?"
"Perhaps if you actually paid attention during your calculus classes you'd recognize it as the symbol for infinity. He's been overheard telling his victims they'll suffer infinitely. "
"Sounds like this guy's got some real issues. Any connections between the three victims?"
"None of them were exactly boy scouts. The first was Jake Norris, a loan shark known for charging exorbitant interest and exacting fatal penalties when customers default. The second was Harry O'Neil, a booking agent. He'd take a bet on whether or not the sun will rise if the odds were good enough. The last was Richie Valentine. He ran an exclusive prostitution ring."
"Nice. So this guy's just a vigilante. Nasty work though. Gives us a bad name." Wayne looked up at him. "Because technically we're doing the same thing, only without the death and torture."
"Just get out there and keep your eyes open."
Terry reached back to pull on the cowl that finished the transformation to Batman. "So how's the roommate situation going?" Wayne didn't reply so he continued. "I mean it's been almost two months. I figured she'd have you pulling out what's left of your hair."
"I hardly ever see her," he responded quietly. "She spends most of her time in class or studying and she hates coming down here."
"Thank God for that!"
In an upstairs room Kendra was practicing yoga exercises. Since her release from the hospital she was determined to regain the strength and flexibility her convalescence had cost her. She'd immediately pursued Eastern methods of pain management and relaxation and had gotten rid of the cane in less than a month, much to the surprise of her doctors, now walking with only a barely perceptible limp.
She reached down to grab her right ankle with her right hand, raising the left towards the ceiling, bending at the waist in a movement called the Trikonasana, and cried out when a sharp pain shot up her back. Continuing to breath, though through clenched teeth, she completed the exercise, reciting her own personal mantra in her head, 'Pain is fleeting, suffering is infinite.' She returned to the start position and took several deep and cleansing breaths, centering her mind and body before repeating the exercise on the other side. Then having finished the complete routine she headed to the shower to prepare. She had an important date tonight.
"I thought you liked Kendra."
"Like? Sure she's great and all, but well…"
"What?"
"She's sort of extreme. It's hard to be around for extended periods of time, you know what I mean?"
"Yes I know exactly what you mean." He saw Terry grin knowingly beneath the mask. "What you have to understand is the personas people use in public aren't always an accurate depiction of who they really are."
"If that's the case, then you've got a lot more in common with her than you thought." Bruce simply nodded and turned away already bored with the conversation. "I'll check in with you later," Terry called out as he slid into the Batmobile and roared out of the cave.
Hours later, after a couple of pit stops to take care of a mugging and an armed robbery, Batman finally found his prey. Wayne's voice came through the cowl's com, *Terry, silent alarm at the Chittenden building in Gotham's financial district. B & B Investments.*
Batman turned the Batmobile left and headed towards the building. When he got into visual range he scanned the area.
Ejecting from the car and he flew around surveying the layout. He saw a figure immerging from the roof access door. It was dressed in a bright red suit with a black hood that flowed down the face and over the shoulders. He landed on the rooftop and called out, "Find what you were looking for?" The figure stopped and faced the newcomer. Batman saw even the eyes of the hood glowed red. He also wore heavy gloves; in the palm of the right, raised in boss relief, was the symbol for infinity, glowing red-hot. "FireBrand – that's what they're calling you right?"
"I have many names – agony, terror, misery, eternal damnation." The electronic voice was a combination of a lion's growl and fingernails on a blackboard.
"More like eternally boring. You're finished, I'm putting a stop to your little crusade."
"By what authority Bat-man?" the figure wheezed and Terry swore it was laughing at him. "You are not any different from me."
"By my own authority. And I am different than you. I don't kill people."
"Maybe you just don't have the backbone for it. Those people are leeches on society's skin. Leeches are burned off."
"They're just men, criminals maybe but still men, they belong in prison, not tortured to death."
"Prison!" FireBrand screamed. "There's no suffering in prison. There is not enough suffering in this world for them. Only that which I can offer, that is."
"As exciting as this philosophical discussion is, I think we need to get on to the fun stuff." Igniting his boot thrusters, Batman launched himself fists first into FireBrand's chest knocking him backward into the half-wall surrounding the roof's edge. There was an audible 'oof' as the air was pushed out of the vigilante's lungs. Both figures landed in a heap. Suddenly FireBrand was up, griping Batman by the arms, tossing him aside, and then running back for the roof's access door. Batman rolled once and then leapt at the fleeing figure, grabbing his arm and pulling him around, using a maneuver left over from his wrestling days to force him to the ground.
FireBrand dropped the other shoulder and somersaulted out of Batman's grasp. The two faced each other momentarily. Batman swung a leg around, connecting with the other's head, but FireBrand went with the momentum, twirling completely and bringing his own leg around to sweep Batman off his feet. Turning, he started once again for the escape route, but his progress was hampered when a bolo suddenly wrapped around his feet, causing him to fall straight forward.
"Don't rush off. We've got so much more to talk about."
"I have no business with you Batman. Let me go." FireBrand was propped up on one elbow, looking back as Batman approached him. The executioner's mask was hanging loose on the front and Terry thought he saw something glittering in the light underneath. Once he got close enough FireBrand thrust out his right hand and grasped Batman's lower leg. Smoked poured out and sizzling could be heard where the hand and leg touched.
Batman jumped back into a handspring to escape the grasp. When he was far enough away he looked down and saw the outer covering of the suit had melted and the inner servos snapping and flickering. A few more seconds and the brand would have touched flesh. FireBrand took the opportunity to untie the bolo from his ankles then stood and faced the Bat.
"This is not a contest Batman. I suggest we call a draw."
"No can do. This is a one vigilante town."
"So be it."
Batman threw a punch, FireBrand deflected it, throwing the Bat over his hip onto his back. He went to deliver a kick to Batman's side but he wasn't quick enough. Batman rolled and jumped up behind him. He delivered a punch to FireBrand's back, sending him flying towards the wall. The vigilante let out a scream, and collapsed onto the barrier. He looked over his shoulder to see Batman advancing on him then slid his body over the side. Batman ran to the ledge to watch the other fall several stories before landing on a passing hover bus then grabbing a lamppost and sliding down to the ground. Batman jumped off and flew down in pursuit.
Batman saw FireBrand turn between two buildings and headed after him. He entered the alleyway to find it deserted and a dead end. "Now where did he go?" he mumbled to himself. He walked among the refuse and noticed a door at the end of one of the buildings. He opened it up and entered a hallway. Up ahead he could hear noises, like chanting. There were two doors on either side of the hall, one marked men and one marked women. He turned toward the door on his left, as the other burst open and someone rushed out running into his back.
"Oh I'm so sorry," a feminine voice said, then, "Uh oh."
He turned and saw Kendra standing there, a gym bag slung over her shoulder. "What are you doing here?" he hissed.
She grabbed hold of his arm and dragged him back the way she'd come, into a room filled with lockers. She looked around to double check that the room was empty then said to him in a low voice, "I take classes three times a week. It helps with my rehabilitation."
"What is this place?" he asked.
She looked at him strangely, "It's a martial arts center, Terry. Why are you here?"
"I followed FireBrand in here."
"Who?"
"Some weirdo making his mark on the world. Brands his victim. Did you see anyone strange come through a few minutes ago?"
"I just got out of the shower. I haven't seen anyone." He noticed her damp hair and nodded. The door flew open then and a couple of girls walked in, chatting to each other. Batman quickly grabbed her and hid behind a set of lockers as the girls walked towards the showers. She looked at him with wide eyes and mouthed, You've got to get out of here. He nodded and they walked to the door. She took a quick peak out to make sure the hall was still empty before they exited. "Look I don't think your guy came through here. You think there'd be a little commotion if he did."
"Yeah I guess you're right." He stopped and stared at her, although his gaze was quite a bit south of her face.
"Um Ter, they're not that great."
"Huh? I was just looking at your necklace, the way it flashed in the light." Her hand came up immediately and she grabbed it, almost as if trying to hide it from view. "Something wrong?"
"No not at all, it was my grandmother's. Look I've got to get going. If I see some guy in a flaming red suit, I'll give you a shout." She turned and walked up the hall. He noticed her favoring her right leg.
"It was just really bizarre Bruce, first FireBrand disappearing into thin air and then running into her there. And she acted kind of weird. The thing is when I was fighting FireBrand I noticed something shiny around his neck and she was wearing this necklace that flashed in the light. When I mentioned it she just seemed, I don't know, strange about the whole thing, like it was embarrassing." He had come back to the Batcave feeling defeated at having lost his foe. Bruce listened quietly with his hands clasped together in front of him.
"It's nothing Terry let it go."
"And she was limping a lot more than usual. I swear when I punched FireBrand in the back I really hurt him. You should have heard the scream."
"She just had a hard workout, you don't think she'd be in more pain than normal?"
"Well that makes sense, but the necklace, why be so defensive about it?"
"Because I gave it to her."
Despite the softness of the tone Terry's head snapped back. "Why?"
"I thought she should have it."
"Kendra told me it was her grandmother's. How would you have something that belonged to her grandmother?" He was utterly confused.
Bruce leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Because I'm her grandfather Terry, and she's not taking the news very well, which is why she hasn't been around much. I'm sure that pointing out the necklace made her very self-conscious. I'm telling you to drop it."
"Well what about the fact that when I first mentioned FireBrand she didn't know what I was talking about, then when she leaves she says she'll keep an eye out for a guy in a red suit?"
"Kendra has nothing to do with it now DROP IT!" the old man's voice boomed throughout the cavern.
"Oh I get it." Terry had finally had it. He cried out, "I can go out every night and get my head thumped but I'm not good enough to be a detective. I just have to follow everything you say, even though the evidence says different."
"Goodnight Terry."
"Yeah, see ya." Terry jumped on his cycle and drove out of the cave, spinning the tires.
Bruce sat staring off into the darkness for a few moments before saying, "Are you going to stand up there all night?"
"I heard yelling. I was worried." She materialized from the shadows and came down the stairs. He turned his head towards her. "You told him," she accused softly.
"Yes. He thinks you're FireBrand. Has some good points too. Of course you'd never be stupid enough to do anything like that would you?" She half turned away from him, hiding her face. He stood and grabbed hold of her upper arm. "Would you?" he commanded, voice dangerously low.
Her face was still hidden from him. "They say the apple never falls far from the tree." His grip tightened on her arm and she turned her face to him. "You're hurting me." Her voice was flat, emotionless.
"The loan shark and the bookie, your father used them frequently. What about the other one, Richie Valentine?"
"Pimp extraordinaire? My father liked hookers, Bruce, the sleazier the better. Richie had no problem supplying the demand. He'd come home to my mother afterwards. To my mother!"
"And tonight?"
"Jerome Bennington, Dad's business partner. He's the one who started the money-laundering scheme, he made the contacts, he's the one who brought Rinaldi into our lives. Now he's destroyed the evidence and made it look like it was all my dad's doing so he can live the good life with blood money. But he wasn't there tonight." She clenched her fists in frustration.
"He was supposed to be though. You called him this evening before going out and arranged a meeting didn't you?"
She showed the first signs of emotion. "How did you know?" It came out as a hoarse whisper.
"You don't think I have every phone in this house monitored?"
"So then you…?"
"Made sure he would be otherwise occupied."
"You've known all along?"
He shook his head. "Not for sure until tonight. After I noticed the connections the first two victims had with your father I was suspicious. The third one threw me. How could you do this, after everything I told you about…"
"Gram? That's what gave me the idea. I thought it was a way to rid this town of its less than finer citizens and repay some old debts of my own."
"Not in my city and not in my house!!" he roared at her, shaking her arm. She flinched but did not fail to meet his gaze. He let go of her. Looking into his grim eyes, the echoes dying down around them, she felt the hot rage that had driven her in the last weeks washed away by a cold knowledge that the consequences of her actions might not be worth the hollow satisfaction of revenge.
Licking her lips, she asked, "So what are you going to do now, turn me over to the police?"
"That depends."
"On?"
"Whether you plan on going after Bennington again."
"He still needs to be punished."
"And he will be. But it will be my way. You either accept that or walk out the door and never look back."
She dropped her face to the ground. "And if I agree?"
He placed a finger under her chin, gently forcing her to look up at him. "We'll talk about suitable retribution later." He dropped his hand and returned to the chair, beginning to work on the computer. After almost five minutes when she still stood unmoving, he said, "I take that as an agreement. Bring that costume down here."
"Why? Don't you trust me?"
"I'll trust you more once it's safely down here."
She sighed and retreated up the stairs, reappearing a few minutes later with her gym bag. She threw it on the ground and walked over to stand beside the chair, absently worrying the locket around her neck. She watched information scroll by on the large monitor over and over again. Whatever he may have lost in his age, nothing slowed down his powers of investigation. Finally he stopped, slipping a disk out of the console. "What's that?" she asked him.
"Phone records, surveillance footage of midnight meetings, and records of cash deposits to off-shore accounts. With this and the testimony of Rinaldi, Barbara should have no trouble getting a case together." He stood and started up the stairs.
She followed him up. "Terry's going to be pretty upset when he finds out he was right after all."
"He doesn't need to find out. This is family business."
She paused for a moment, shivers traveling down her spine. The tone of his voice was laced with a darkness she almost detected as regret. Remembering his promise of 'suitable retribution' she was suddenly concerned he would still throw her out for good. Trying to lighten the mood she said then, "Well you know I could have taken him, if he hadn't sucker punched me."
"Mm hmm," Bruce replied noncommittally. Once they reached the top and closed the secret door he looked at her. "I want you to see a psychiatrist."
She raised an eyebrow at his request. "You think I'm crazy?"
"Do you consider your actions to be sane?"
"In this town, are you kidding?"
"You either seek help voluntarily or I'm committing you to Arkham myself."
"Ok, ok, whatever makes you happy. I'll look for a shrink tomorrow."
"And Kendra, one more thing."
"Yes?" she asked, heart pounding in her chest.
"You're grounded." He started down the hall towards the kitchen, leaving her standing there.
He didn't see wave of relief that washed over her face, but he heard the whispered, "Yes sir."
December
"This is Bianca Michaelides reporting to you from the Gotham Arms Hotel where the biggest event of the winter season is getting under way. The Annual Christmas Eve Charity Ball and Auction, where the city's rich and powerful pay 15,000 units a plate to celebrate this holiday season in style, with proceeds going to the GPD Widows and Orphans fund.
"A few moments ago Leticia Waverly-Boudreau and her hot new Cajun husband, Malcolm, walked down the red carpet looking for all the world like a pair of love struck kids.
"Lucius Fox Jr., owner of Foxtecha and his lovely wife arrived earlier on the heels of his rival, the dashing Mr. Paxton Powers, recently named CEO of Wayne-Powers, with not one, but two young ladies on his arm. I guess he was a very good boy this year.
"And speaking of Wayne-Powers, here comes Gotham's most notorious bachelor, Mr. Bruce Wayne, escorted yet once again by GU co-ed Kendra Baker. Let's see if I can get a word with him.
"Excuse me, Mr. Wayne, Bianca Michaelides of Gotham Beat, could I ask you a few questions?"
"Certainly," he replied graciously.
"You and Miss Baker have been seen together several times in the last six months. The question on everyone's mind is, what exactly is your relationship? Not planning on giving up your confirmed bachelor status at this late date are you?" She smiled up at the old man, ignoring the withering stare from his young escort. Bianca knew a story when she saw one, and any story starting with Bruce Wayne, especially one this scandalous, was hot.
Wayne looked down at Kendra, her face stormy. He raised an eyebrow in a silent question. She answered with a barely perceptible shrug of her shoulder. "Well Ms. Michaelides, I guess you will be the first to know." Bianca's eyes went wide; this one could get her her own show. "Kendra is my granddaughter."
"All of Gotham will be pleased to hear…What?!" she stumbled for a moment at the unexpected revelation. Although a January-December romance would have been far more intriguing, this was still a scoop. "A granddaughter? I must say this comes as a bit of a surprise."
"You have no idea," Kendra said dryly.
"Does this mean that Wayne-Powers might once again see a Wayne at its helm?"
"Oh no," Kendra replied quickly. "I don't have a head for business."
"Well," Bianca said with a predatory smile. "One has to wonder what you do have a head for."
"Merry Christmas Ms. Michaelides," Wayne said, urging Kendra forward and away from the reporter.
They entered the large ballroom already full of festive merrymakers. Kendra ate her meal without commentary, which left Bruce feeling slightly ill at ease. Afterwards she declined several invitations to dance, all except for Paxton Powers who had come over and said, "Wayne, I just heard a vicious rumor that this gorgeous young lady is your granddaughter. Perhaps I could borrow her for a quick dance and introduce myself?" To Bruce's utter consternation, she agreed. For a full five minutes he had to watch her in the arms of Powers, the son of the man who took over his company and almost destroyed the entire city. After the dance she allowed him to kiss her hand and then returned to the table looking as somber as before.
"Have fun?" he asked mildly.
"Oh, he seems nice," she said absently. "He asked me to go to a New Year's Eve party with him." Then apparently realizing who he was she asked, "I'm sorry does that bother you? I didn't think about it before…"
"Why should I mind?" he replied lightly. Under his breath he said, "At least it wasn't his father." Out loud again he asked, "Are you feeling ok? You don't seem to be having a good time," he asked.
"I've just thinking that now it's out in the open, everyone's going to be making a big deal. The press is going to be asking questions and digging around. They're going to find out everything about my father, Gram…" she shook her head miserably.
"That's not what's really bothering you is it?"
"What do you mean?"
"You haven't smiled at all this week, and tonight you're positively sullen."
"You keeping track now?"
"Let's just say it's something I've started looking forward to."
"It's just the holidays. They haven't been all that merry for me in a long time. And I spoke with my mother, she refused to come out so I won't even get to see Sam this year." She didn't mention that in the conversation, Vivian Baker had expressed no interest whatsoever in seeing her father now or anytime in the future. She wouldn't even allow Kendra to broach the subject again, since she first told her months ago. She found the entire situation to be completely depressing, a word she barely knew.
"You could always fly out there to see them," he reminded her. "I could arrange for you to have a private plane tonight."
Sadly she shook her head now. "That's not the point, Bruce, and you know it." She turned in her chair to look directly at him. "I'm sure you haven't trimmed a tree in what, half a century or so? I'm not saying we have to deck the halls or sing carols or anything, but maybe we could spend the day together, quietly. Maybe you could make another attempt to teach me chess. I promise not to make horse noises when I move the knights. You just shouldn't be down in that tomb of yours on Christmas of all days. After all, Terry is going to be spending the day with his family."
"He'll still be on call. Crime doesn't take a holiday."
"Bullshit." She waited for his eyes to narrow in consternation of her inappropriate language. "Good, I've got your attention. The hospitals stay open, the police and fire departments maintain full staff, nobody will be unprotected, they won't need you. But in case it's failed to escape your notice I've had a pretty lousy year. I need you."
She saw an inner debate inside him, and then he stood up. "There's something I need to do, and I'd like you to come with me." Without another word they gathered their coats and made their way out into the cold. The normal city lights were augmented by the red and green of the season. A light snow had started dusting everything and giving it a brief moment's cleanliness. They drove away from downtown and finally parked outside an ornate iron gate. The latch was not locked and they entered the grounds beyond. He led her, but she gave him a steadying hand in the snow and ice. She'd been doing more and more of that, inquiring about his health, insisting he eat better, becoming hyper-sensitive to his moods, offering assistance which, had it been anyone else, he would normally wave off in irritation.
They reached their destination. Even though it was night, the moon was full and the fresh snow reflected the light onto all surfaces. The great monument loomed before them. WAYNE. She blinked at it then turned to look up at him. "I don't come as often as I'd like to anymore, but I never miss Christmas." She nodded then reached and touched the marble with her fingers. He lifted his cane and pointed to a spot beyond. "Over there is where I met Andi. She was visiting her mother's grave."
"How romantic," she whispered to herself, hugging her arms to her chest in an effort to stay warm. They stood side by side for several minutes in silence, and then he signaled the time to go by turning around. "Thank you for bringing me. I know this whole family thing is going to take a lot of getting used to, on both sides." Kendra took a deep breath to begin a conversation she'd been avoiding for some time. She figured this was as good a moment as any. "Listen, um, you know the doctor says my therapy is about finished."
"Oh?" He stopped to look at her.
"She's narrowed it down." She ticked off with her fingers. "I have anger management issues, I exhibit inappropriate behavior when dealing with stressful situations or uncomfortable emotions, and apparently I have an over-exaggerated sense of self, whatever that means."
"I could have told you that and would have saved a fortune in medical bills." She wasn't paying any attention though; she just stood still, gnawing on her thumbnail. "Kendra, what is it?"
"I've been holding my anger inside for so long it became too painful to cope. I thought it would help the pain go away, but it didn't, it made it worse. I am so, so sorry for what I did. I'm just grateful you gave me a second chance and I promise that I will never disappoint you like that again." He watched her as she stood, head slightly bowed, looking humbled, and realized this must have been how she looked as a child when scolded. He'd missed that, he'd missed watching her grow up… At that moment he had a vision so intense it left him breathless.
A young girl, perhaps seven or eight, hair pulled into pigtails, clothes scruffy from play, comes running up to him. Her face open and smiling, blue eyes twinkling from having alternately bullied and bewitched all the neighborhood boys, she stands before him arms raised and calls out, 'Pick me up Grandpa, pick me up!' He's overwhelmed by her delicate power…
Fingers snapped in front of his face. "Bruce? Don't space out on me now."
He looked up to see the adult version of that little girl, now dressed in a ball gown, eyes darkened in worry. Suddenly, she ceased to be the ghost of Andrea Beaumont come back to haunt him to his grave, and became his own second chance. She was no longer his past, she was his future. "Apology accepted," he replied gruffly, and walked towards the entrance.
She hurried to catch up with him. "So about tomorrow…?"
"I suppose I could spare a couple of hours."
"A couple of hours? That's the best you can do?"
"Any longer than that and I can't guarantee you'll survive to see the New Year."
"Oh will miracles never cease – Bruce Wayne makes a joke!"
"Who says I was joking?"