Part Two
"Master Wayne, might I ask if there is a pressing issue that is bothering you?"
Bruce looked up from the pages of To Kill a Mockingbird and turned his head towards the doorway of the sitting room, where Alfred was standing, holding out tray with an unopened bottle of brandy and an empty glass.
"I'm fine Alfred," Bruce said absently, "What makes you think I'm not?"
"Well sir," Alfred grinned, approaching the black leather recliner in which Bruce sat, "I've been here for ten minutes and you haven't turned a single page of that novel. I doubt that I'm wrong in saying you're distracted." The Englishman placed the tray down on the coffee table in front of Bruce. "It doesn't happen to have anything to do with this mystery scientist lady, does it?"
"You know," Bruce grinned, "You really should have brought yourself a glass too." He leaned forward and opened the small bottle of brandy, filling the snifter glass to the brim. Then he turned to his butler. "Do you want the glass or the bottle?"
"Very funny sir," Alfred chuckled, "But I had my fill over dinner."
"Suit yourself," Bruce shrugged, bringing the glass up to his lips and gulping back half the caramel coloured liquid. Today had been an incredibly long day, especially considering the image of Aidan's shocked face in his headlights kept swimming to the surface of Bruce's mind. He wondered what she would think of the pizza he had asked Alfred to deliver to her office. He was almost certain that she would get a kick out of the actually pizza. It was the note he had attached to the box that was making him have second thoughts.
"You're wondering if you did the right thing," Alfred said, stating instead of asking. Bruce gave a bit of a forced chuckle.
"Get out of my head."
"Ah," Alfred smiled, "If I was in your head I would know why you were wondering such a thing. After all, you did nearly run the girl over. Asking her on a date only seems appropriate…"
"It's not a date," Bruce cut him off.
"Of course not, Sir," Alfred was still smiling in an all-knowing way, "It's simply a man and a woman who are barely acquaintances going out to dinner together…alone."
"That's exactly what it is," Bruce nodded, choosing to ignore the obvious humour in Alfred's voice. "And besides, she hasn't called me yet, so maybe she doesn't want to go out." Or worse, Bruce thought, she already has a boyfriend. That could be the only logical reason that she wasn't calling. He was, after all, Bruce Wayne.
"I'm sure she's getting around to it, Sir," Alfred said. Bruce nodded and fell into a thoughtful silence, still sipping on his brandy. Knowing that Bruce could slip into quiet reverie for hours, Alfred began to leave the room, leaving the brandy in its place.
"You know," Bruce mused aloud, causing Alfred to stop on his way out, "I'm not sure why I asked her. That's what's bugging me."
"Maybe she reminds you of someone," Alfred replied with slight uneasiness. It had been five months since Rachel had been murdered and Bruce was still brooding over it. Alfred knew he would never love another woman like he had loved Rachel, but maybe all he needed was a distraction. And Batman certainly wasn't providing one, as the streets of Gotham had been rather quiet since the Joker's admittance to Arkham Asylum. He certainly did hope this Aidan girl would call soon.
"I hope not," Bruce sighed, closing his eyes and drifting back into his thoughts. Alfred frowned and left him in peace. However, his peace did not last long. Only moments after Alfred exited the room, the sleek black mobile phone next to the tray of brandy began to vibrate. Bruce's eyes shot open and, almost unwillingly, he picked it up.
--
Aidan's first run-in with Bruce Wayne seemed so much more than four days ago, but there she was, Saturday night, running around her apartment in a craze. All because of a stupid little letter taped to the top of her pizza box. But just because she called the letter stupid, didn't mean she hadn't appreciated getting it. And it certainly didn't mean she had thrown it out. Even so, Aidan could not get over the shock that she was going out to dinner with Bruce Wayne. In her mind, she had been running through possibly outcomes of the evening, and each ended with her getting tongue-tied or making a fool of herself. This had not helped her self-confidence one bit, and so she stopped running around for a moment and looked at herself in the mirror. She had chosen light grey dress pants with a cute white shirt. Unfortunately, she was unsure, especially since her hair had chosen tonight to misbehave. Desperate, Aidan hobbled over to her kitchenette, where she kept her state of the art videophone. Seeing the phone made her remember what a tech geek she really was. She made a mental note to stay off the topic, just so she could avoid rambling on for hours about things that most people would deem unbearably boring. Hurriedly, Aidan dialled her best friend's phone number, continuously glancing at the clock. She had only forty-five minutes until Bruce said he would arrive to pick her up.
"Hello," came a voice from the speakerphone. Aidan's attention flipped back to the screen attached to the phone and she saw the face of her best friend lighting it up.
"Hey Chels," Aidan sighed her relief at having caught Chelsea at home on a Saturday night, "I need some help. I have a date tonight and…"
"Whoa," Chelsea threw up her hands, "You have a date and you didn't tell me until now?"
"I know, I know," Aidan grimaced, "I'm sorry, but I just didn't want to make a big deal about it. I just need to know if I'm dressed okay." She stepped away from the phone to let Chelsea get an almost-complete view of her outfit.
"You look great," Chelsea smiled, "Just do something about that mop of hair." She giggled slightly. "So, who is this guy?"
"Hold that thought," Aidan called out as she hopped out of the kitchen and into her bedroom, finding a hairbrush and bringing it back to the phone so she could talk.
"So?" Chelsea pressed when Aidan came back into view, "Spill it, all the details. Where'd you meet him? What's he like? Is he cute?"
"I, um," Aidan blushed at the thought of how she had actually met Bruce Wayne, "I met him while I was walking back to work the other day. And yes, he's really, really cute. But I don't really know what he's actually like. I mean, I have an idea from what I hear about him, but I don't really know him. Apparently he's very suave, and he is very rich…I know that…"
"You make it sound like you're going out with Bruce Wayne," Chelsea snorted. Aidan said nothing, instead choosing to be very suddenly interested in her hairbrush. She heard Chelsea squeal from the other line.
"Bruce Wayne," the bubbly blonde squeaked, "How the hell did you manage that, Aidan? Jeez, Bruce Wayne…oh my…you have to change."
"What?" Aidan suddenly lost interest in her hairbrush.
"You can't wear that," Chelsea spoke at a mile a minute, "You look like a science nerd."
"In case you forgot," Aidan's voice was deadpan, even with the rising panic in her chest, "I'm a physicist. My job is to be a science nerd."
"I know," Chelsea, who was a dental hygienist, continued to talk very fast, "And you look the part."
"But five minutes ago you said I looked fine," Aidan complained, watching Chelsea roll her eyes.
"That was before I knew you were going on a date with Bruce Wayne," she insisted, "Bruce Wayne…I can't believe this."
"Neither can I," Aidan sighed, "Let me go Chels; I need to find something to wear."
"Sure thing," Chelsea replied, "And if I may make a suggestion? How about the little black number I bought you for your birthday. Wear that and call me back before you leave. I want to see how absolutely deadly you look." Before Aidan could reply, Chelsea had terminated the connection, leaving Aidan to shake her head. That girl would probably never grow up. Oh well, it made her all the more fun to be friends with.
Taking her friend's advice seriously, Aidan headed back to her closet and dug around for the 'little black number' she had never worn. There was a reason. It wasn't a very Aidan-ish dress. But it was kind of Bruce Wayne.
--
Doctor Tony Ibrahim felt like banging his head against the wall until he delivered himself into unconsciousness. However, he figured that would only wind up getting him locked in his own asylum, so he settled for drinking an entire mug of steaming black coffee in one gulp. His nerves were in tatters and he was both sick and tired of dealing with mental patients. Why he had ever decided to become a therapist was currently beyond him. Maybe he had been drunk all throughout med school. That seemed to justify the situation. As the door to the doctor's cafeteria swung open, Tony looked up, seeing his colleague Doctor Catherine Marks enter the room. If it were possible, she looked even more rundown than he felt. Then he remembered that her one and only patient was the most dangerous man in the entire world and he realized it were very possible.
"Long day?" Tony asked, standing and approaching the counter to pour Catherine a cup of coffee, "How do you take it?"
"Black, three sugars," she replied, sitting down across from where Tony had been moments ago. Immediately, she rested her head in her hands, massaging her throbbing temples.
"That bad, eh?" Tony returned to the table and set the coffee down in front of Catherine. She looked at the mug, but made no move to pick it up. She looked downright defeated.
"I can't deal with him anymore," she said hoarsely, "He's not crazy, and that's what makes him so…scary. He knows exactly what he's talking about, whether it's blowing up a building or cutting someone open…" Her voice trailed off as her shaking hands worked their way towards the coffee mug.
"It'll be fine," Tony assured her, though he wasn't entirely sure. Catherine had only been counselling with the Joker for a month and a half, but she already seemed on the verge of emotional breakdown.
"No," Catherine sighed, "He's bloody terrifying. He keeps telling me there's a dozen ways he could break out of his cell. He just described three different ways that he could kill me using a spoon…" Again, she seemed at a loss for words. Tony chewed his lip nervously. She was really torn up over all this.
"There's no way he can break out Cat," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, wondering if it were actually possible to kill someone with a spoon, "It's impossible." And while Tony was nearly sure of this, he was even surer that Arkham was not the safest place on Earth, no matter how thick the walls of your cell were.
--
"You look uncomfortable," Bruce said as he skimmed over the menu at the small Italian restaurant he and Aidan currently sat in. He had requested a secluded table, thinking that Aidan would get the idea that everyone in the restaurant would be looking at them, as he was somewhat of a celebrity in Gotham. Aidan, in response to his question, tucked a stray strand of her flat-ironed hair behind her ear.
"I'm not," she smiled, "Not at all." It was a bold faced lie, but she hoped Bruce couldn't infer as much, not wanting their date to go horribly awry before it had barely begun. Truth be told, Aidan was actually quite uncomfortable. She was nervous as hell, not to mention she felt foolish in the dress that Chelsea had insisted made her look like a babe. Aidan had asked if babe and call-girl were classified as the same thing in Chelsea's world. Fortunately though, she had found a decent shawl to cover her shoulders and had opted against ridiculously high heels, just to keep some of her dignity. To make matters worse, Bruce had ordered the most expensive bottle of Italian wine within moments of being seated. Aidan made another mental note to not consume too much of that; she held her alcohol horribly.
"That's good to hear," Bruce nodded, his eyes transfixed on her face, as if searching for a lie. "Have you decided what you're going to have?"
"Probably the spaghetti Bolognese," Aidan said, folding up her menu, "So typical, I know, but it's my favourite."
"I respect that," Bruce smirked, "But I prefer lasagne. It's a very complex pasta, lots of layers. It's kind of like human beings."
"Oh," Aidan grinned, "That's really deep stuff. Bruce Wayne, billionaire philosopher?" That earned her a chuckle from the dark-haired man. A chuckle was always good; it meant she was amusing him. But what if it was a pity chuckle…well that wasn't good at all…
Aidan's tumultuous thoughts were interrupted by their waiter, Paulo, arriving at the table with a large bottle of red wine. He smiled politely as he poured a glass for both Aidan and Bruce. Once finished, he pulled a notebook from his breast-pocket and flipped it open.
"Are you ready to order?" he asked in a thick Italian accent, reminding Aidan of Sal.
"I'll have the lasagne," Bruce nodded, "And your finest spaghetti Bolognese for the lady."
"Of course, Sir," Paulo jotted the information down and then retreated, leaving Bruce and Aidan in their quiet corner. Soon after his departure, Bruce brought up the search for Gotham's new DA, which her been ongoing since the death of Harvey Dent. Happily, Aidan gave her views on the matter. From there, their conversation took dozens of different turns; all of them successfully avoided technology. The two barely even noticed when Paulo returned with their food.
They ate slowly, immersed in conversation. Bruce found himself to be taking a liking to Aidan. She was smart and rather fun to talk to, once she got over her admittedly horrendous nerves. She was attractive, yes, but he was quite aware of his lack of romantic affection towards her. She made for good company, and that was really all he was searching for. He knew she would understand that all he wanted was friendship, someone to help distract him from his previous losses.
And so, at the end of the night, he walked her up to her apartment and told her he had a great time. He even went so far as to ask her out to lunch Monday afternoon. Happily, she had accepted the offer.
--
Comments? Feedback? Anything you'd like to see happen? Let me know and I'll see what I can do. Thanks so much, to everyone who has read and reviewed this. I look forward to hearing from you. Also, if anyone's bored, feel free to check out my new little short story, entitled Dance with the Devil. It would make me ever so happy. Cheers!
/Dani