Disclaimers: I don't own Batman. I never will. I also don't own Gotham and everything else associated with that.
A/N: A few more changes have been made. I hope you all enjoy. Review if you want to! Thanks.
Summary: Bruce Wayne's life wasn't perfect and neither was Anne Vera's, but when they met – perfect seemed possible. Well, Fate knew that, but they didn't. Both are haunted by their pasts. Both are dealing with what their past made them. Yet perfect isn't easy to get or to have. How long will it take for someone to realize that perfect isn't really perfect? (Post The Dark Knight about five months.)
Alfred checked his watch. 7:20. Master Bruce was late. He shook his head a little. It wasn't surprising to him at all. He kind of expected this. When Bruce puts that cowl on no one can ever be too sure. Batman was the protector of Gotham. Somebody must need his help. But what about his needs? Who will help you Bruce?
But no matter how fast the nights pass, no matter how much his worry keeps growing; Bruce refuses to get out of his grieving and move on. Or even try to move on. He was in the perpetual state of never-ending sadness. He was grieving for the city, for his parents, and now the loss of Rachel.
It was her death that put him deeper into that mournful abyss that his parents' deaths created. She was his best friend and the woman he was in love with. Her death was the turning point in Bruce's life as Batman. The young man, caught up in another blow to his heart and soul, retreated into his persona. He rarely showed his true self anymore. It was only the playboy millionaire or the vigilante. Two persona he created and not the person he really is. No, it hurt too much to be who he really was. And if I had shown him that letter… No, it would destroy Bruce, he thought. He didn't want his charge to further bury himself into his persona even more than he already had. It took Alfred much digging to get even a hint of the man he knew was real. It was like watching a train wreck about to happen and not having the power to stop it.
He wished that the young man could find some sort of happiness left, but things sure seemed hopeless at the moment. As per usual, the man was stuck on the death of his beloved parents, and now added to the mix was the death of Rachel. Wayne never talked to him about her. His chare was still hung up over her. It wasn't hard to see that whenever he would go into a daydream like state or have a nightmare that it would be about Rachel.
Alfred wished that he could help him move on with his life. He still bore that slight hope that maybe the younger man would find something worth living. It was obvious that he had something to fight for. But he didn't have anything to live for. Pennyworth so wanted Wayne to live rather than just fight. But the problem was that Bruce couldn't be talked to, and that gave him the most worry.
A soft sound came from behind him which was followed by two strong steps on the floor. He knew that sound well enough to not be surprised. "I see you finished your rounds," he remarked, turning to greet Bruce who was already dressed in his high class Armani suit.
Bruce fixed his tie with an absent nod. He looked like there was something else on his mind. Two things: Rachel and his parents, the butler mused. He looked at him curiously. He noticed the dried sweat on the boy's neck, and the new wound on his arm.
Bruce shrugged it off and pulled his sleeves down, successfully covering up the newly acquired wound. "Yes, not that much for tonight. Am I late?" he asked which made Alfred chuckle. He looked at his elder and shook his head. "Yeah, I'm late."
But that really wasn't his concern. His mind was on something entirely different. All he was thinking about was that woman he saved back in the Narrows. He couldn't get the look of her eyes staring into his own out of his head. There was something about her. He just didn't know what.
He didn't get that good of a look at her. He only had an aerial view of her before he helped her. From that perspective, he could see that she was sort of capable of handling herself for she knew what to do when people act like those men did. But it was still five to one. She, by herself, could not be enough. The only thing he really caught was her long black hair, her slightly sharp nose, and her emerald orbs. They were eyes that seemed to captivate him when he stared into them.
Bruce was surprised. How could another woman get his attention? Rachel… The mere thought of the woman he loved and lost made him feel sick. His regret for not telling her how much he loved her came up his mind. If only… The uncertainty went into his body and sent shivers down his spine. It had only been around five to six months since she died. How could he be looking at another woman? His heart was Rachel's and hers alone.
Yet I have not given that stranger my heart, he thought. Then what was it? Why was he being pulled towards that woman in the Narrows? He didn't know her. He didn't talk to her. It wasn't logical to be thinking and feeling so strangely about a woman he only interacted per se for a course of five to ten minutes. His rational mind just couldn't put the pieces together. It didn't make any sense.
"Master Wayne." Alfred's voice said, successfully Bruce out of his thoughts. "I think this is the time to keep up with your appearances."
Bruce nodded. His thoughts were filled with emerald eyes and Rachel's hair. He sighed softly to himself. For the moment, he would have to let his concerns go. He had a part to play now.
"Let's go"
Xoxoxoxoxoxox…fjfjfjfjfjffjf…..xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox….jfjfjfjfjfjfjf…
An hour past six forty passed when Anne finally arrived at Purple Metro. I'm late. Great, I'm late. People better not be ragging on me or I swear… There were two reasons why she was late. Those two reasons were caused by two things: being attacked and then being rescued by Batman.
Batman… Batman… She was so surprised and intrigued by the mysterious being that she always wanted to learn more about him. So much more. She wondered if she would ever see him again. But she knew that was highly unlikely. She knew that she refused to get in a situation like what happened earlier ever again. And yet, the feel of Batman's glove on her wrist lingered.
"That's stupid…" she muttered to herself. What was the point of thinking about some masked vigilante? She knew almost entirely nothing about Batman. She knew only what her best friend Sam told her. Arrived on the scene to stop the mob then saved the city for a halogen fiend and then from the crazy Joker. Yeah, hella stupid. The only reason she was hung up over Batman had to be because that caped crusader saved her. Yeah that's the reason, she thought.
But the intensity in Batman's aura couldn't be shaken from her memory. She was so stricken by the mere appearance of the mysterious vigilante that she had stood frozen in her spot in the Narrows stroking her wrist. With a mixture of trauma from the incident, fear, and adrenaline, a sort of fascination for her dark hero rose from within her that she couldn't help but have an absent minded stare at where he touched her.
Thank God Commissioner Gordon arrived on the scene. At first she found it strange that the highest officer in Gotham was attending the call of the crime almost committed against her. Didn't he have important things to do rather than getting to the crime scene and interviewing her? She wasn't surprised though to see how much weight he carried upon himself. Commissioner Gordon was a slightly tall man, had gray-black hair, and wore glasses. It was he who came up to her to ask her a few questions about what happened.
Sure there were other police officers at the scene. They were walking back and forth; looking for evidence. Others were knocking on doors trying to figure out if anyone had witnessed the crime or heard anything. And five officers took the job of arresting the five assailants. But Anne's attention was never on those who tried to help her and to those who wanted to solve the situation. She was still thinking about who saved her: The Batman.
"Ma'am…" said a calm, gruff voice. Anne didn't respond. She was in shock. "Ma'am. I know you've been through a rough night…" She felt a soft touch on her shoulder and tried to move the hand away with a shrug, but to no use for the mysterious person's grip was strong but gentle. "Listen to me, ma'am. It's over. You're safe."
Safe? "You're safe, ma'am. I mean you no harm." The voice held such kindness and strength that Anne's attention on Batman was replaced by the man in front of her. And from that moment on she was smitten with him. Not in the romantic way, but a familial way. She had recognized him instantly. Here was the man that everyone in Gotham knew to be the one true good cop.
All she could do was smile at him.
Luckily he was also kind enough to let me give me a more thorough statement tomorrow. Anne smiled at the lack of reporters. She was relieved that none of them found out about what happened to her a few minutes ago. It also pleased her that she wasn't gaining unwanted fame. She didn't want to be one of those people who were plagued by the paparazzi day in and day out. She believed in sustaining her privacy.
"Annie!"
Anne resisted the instinct to scowl at that name. Annie…Annie…Annie… Ugh. She was about ready to fling a middle finger at whoever called her that, but was prevented from doing so when she was engulfed in someone's skinny arms. She didn't respond to the hug until she saw her familiar short brown haired friend Lisa Bell. Pushing her friend from her, she admonished slightly, "I thought I told you not to call me Annie, Lisa!"
The narrow faced Lisa merely grinned; her hazel eyes twinkling. "I just love seeing your face contort with disgust," she replied with a soft giggle. "I just don't understand why you don't like that name. It's just adding an 'I' to the picture."
You always did like pushing buttons no matter the consequences… She knew Lisa was the type of woman that got her feelings hurt easily, but didn't see how other people's feelings could get hurt with just as much ease. Lisa was sensitive woman about herself, but insensitive about other people. It didn't help that she also had that obsessive and compulsive personality.
She was a big girl though; a big girl with frightening skinny arms. She definitely wouldn't be called up for a photo shoot for Glam! Magazine. She was a plus size girl which influenced her insecurity. But thanks to her friends, she slowly gained confidence in herself. After all, everyone couldn't deny that she had flawless copper skin thanks to the Indian blood she had within her.
"I agree with you partly," Anne said with a soft looking smile. She knew that her friend understood how callous she could be when dealing with a dislike-able joke. But she would not reveal that part of herself; that part of her being where she would just go cold to protect herself from any intrusion. No, she would remain genial after all she knew that Lisa didn't mean her any harm. "It's just an 'I', but I think Anne is perfectly fine."
Lisa pouted for a second before she threw her hands up in mock surrender. "Fine," she scoffed jokingly, "Party pooper."
"Speaking of party," Anne asked; trying to make her friend feel better, "How has it been so far?" She didn't want to let the subject of her hated nickname to stay its wanted course for much longer. So she instead turned the conversation to an old silly joke of theirs. "Or should I say: Gathering of inquiring minds looking for that right instigator of imagination?" she questioned with an inquisitive voice.
This made Lisa laugh; teeth clattering and everything. "It's a party alright," she replied with a fun sparkle in her eyes. "But that gathering of inquiring minds looking for the right instigator of imagination is next week."
What we are talking about doesn't make sense. But she knew it amused Lisa so she wasn't going to kill her friend's fun. "If not for paintings…. Least of all my paintings," Anne said with a raised eyebrow. "Then what is the gala for next week?"
Lisa's hazel eyes shined in enjoyment. "For the comic book convention!"
Wow. Anne couldn't help but laugh along with her friend after hearing that statement. So she decided to give the brunette another kind hug, but Lisa instead grabbed her hand and brought her to a nearby table with the number 29 on it. The hazel eyed girl looked around the big room excitedly.
"Let's see the who's who…" she said with so much interest.
Anne frowned. This was another thing she disliked. She paid no interest in gossip or celebrity. She bore no positive feelings toward the bunch, and she knew that those feelings wouldn't change. But you Lisa… Lisa, on the other hand, loved that kind of stuff. She thrived on gossip and had a subscription to all the magazines concerning any celebrity.
"Why?" Vera asked; rolling her eyes. "The rich and the famous never get along with me." God knows I don't get along with their politics least of all their personalities.
"C'mon… You don't mean that." Lisa said in disbelief. Her hands were shaking. This was a sign of her being quite confused.
I've told you this a thousand times. Anne calmly said,"Ah contra-ire, they're just snobs." She looked around the room. There were some people she knew. There were some people she didn't know. There were also some people she didn't have a care for.
But Lisa wouldn't let up. "All of them?" she questioned. "I doubt you met all the wealthy people in the world."
"Doesn't matter. I've got my mind made up." Anne insisted. She already was getting tired of this conversation. She sensed the lowering of her friend's fun so she decided to turn the conversation around to something more light-hearted. "Besides, I think I don't find any wealthy person that appealing. Well, except for U2, Daniel Craig, and Johnny Depp."
The light in Lisa's hazel eyes shined brighter; the fun restoring itself within her. "What about our boy the Prince of Gotham?" she teasingly asked.
I cannot believe you just suggested that. Anne's eyes widened in horror. If there was one person she couldn't help but abhor in the city of Gotham, that person was Bruce Wayne. She more than didn't care about him, she despised him. She thought that Wayne was a playboy who wasted away his money when he could be doing some good for the people of Gotham. He was nothing more than a pathetic billionaire trying to act like he was bigger than he really is.
"Bruce 'Freeloader' Wayne?" Anne said in surprise and disgust. "Nuh-uh, no, especially him. Ew. Not him."
"I hear you have a problem with Wayne."
Anne and Lisa recognized that voice. They both turned to the lady called Christine Buell. It was she who organized the whole exhibition. She was the one that got Anne connected to it all. She was of Irish descent with boy cut blond hair and gray eyes. Her figure was that of an athlete for everything about her was toned well which was all in part of genes she inherited and how well she exercised to keep in shape.
"What did he do to you?" she asked with a mischievous smile of her own. "Couldn't lift up the goods?"
Anne smiled uncomfortably. Anything regarding sexuality unnerved her. It made her feel sick and uncomfortable. She never dared to have a boyfriend, to kiss someone, to have sex. All because of… She pushed those thoughts away. It was safe to say that she didn't like anything regarding sex concerning her. Plus, she didn't even want to dare even think about having a night alone with Wayne. She knew he went out with a new girl every night. I'm surprised no one has announced that he has an STD or something. But despite how she felt, she had to stay strong. She didn't want her friends to worry…or to know too much information about her past.
"Among other things," she finally said after much thinking.
She made the decision to laugh to cover up the uncertainty in her voice. Sometimes that's what she had to do. She loved her friends and trusted them with her life, but she couldn't always reveal her inner workings to them. So she would laugh and smile because people always saw her as the smiling woman. And luckily for her, Christine and Lisa felt like laughing as well. So the three just laughed and laughed together; enjoying the night and their friendship.
"Come! Let's revel in this miraculous night!" Lisa cried.
Anne wanted to sigh. She already felt like going home. Let's hope this night turns out to be a good one.
Xoxoxoxoxoxoxox…jfjfjfjfjfjfjfjfjf….xo
The time flew by quickly for the Anne and those who attended the exhibition of her artwork. When Anne decided to check the clock, it was now nine thirty in the evening. I should be in bed, she mused. Instead, she was showing a few people one of her paintings. It was one of those paintings that she made while in a sleepy mood. It wasn't her best by no means, but her friends convinced her (more like forced me) into showing it off.
"Now this piece… I just don't understand it," said a voice from behind her.
Anne's eyes narrowed. But she quickly resumed the facade of pure ignorance and innocence. She turned around to see the person who made the comment, and to her great disappointment and fury she saw the infamous Bruce Wayne's face along with some skinny bitch he decided to bring along hanging on his arm like he was her sugar daddy.
Wayne was dressed up in a nice suit that she suspected was tailored just for him. His hair was slightly slicked back thanks to either an immense amount of water or gel, and his tie was an obnoxious shade red. The lady beside him was skinny beyond skinny. She presumed that the girl was some anorexic model. The sight of the two of them made her throw up just a little.
"Why's that?" asked the blond one.
Anne had to hold herself back from laughing once she heard the blond lady's voice. It was so funny to hear. The voice was like a Valley Girl, but what made it funnier was that the lady's accent sounded foreign; possibly as foreign as somebody from France. A French Valley Girl! Priceless. She wasn't surprised that this blond lady would be one of those people that he likes to go after. Dumb hoes for a dumb man…
She didn't want to reveal herself to the pair just yet so she decided to move to the side; pretending to be a fellow visitor. Let's see how much more shit he'll be talking. She couldn't wait to surprise him and have her say with a steel tongue.
Little did she know was that Wayne did notice her. How could he not? It was the woman from the Narrows! He had felt that familiar twinge of emotion inside himself when he had first caught sight of her. It was like the mysteriousness of her excited him in some shape or form. His interest in her was based purely on strange interest that he could not let go. He just wanted to learn about her. He didn't know where it would take him. He didn't have a plan of where he wanted it to go. He just wanted to learn more.
The only reason that he was actually looking at this particular painting and said something about it was because he recognized her. He was pleasantly surprised beyond belief that he would see the lady he rescued again. If only she would show me her eyes… That was all he wanted at the moment. He just wanted to look in her eyes. It was her eyes that seemingly bewitched him into wanting to learn more about her for no apparent reason. Emerald gaze… The urge to look into that gaze grew. But how could he get her to turn to face him?
Bruce smiled at his blond companion. He looked back at the painting while trying his best not to stare closer at the woman he had previously seen in the Narrows. He had an idea in mind. He wasn't sure that it would work, but he had a feeling that it just might if one would consider how she reacted when he said that he didn't get the painting. He wasn't sure why she reacted to what he said the way she did, but it didn't matter. He was glad to see her again.
"This painting confuses me the most," he explained. "Why does Anne Vera use such textures? Now I'm not a painter, but I know enough to say that this doesn't look so appealing. Hell, it's kind of unoriginal."
From his peripheral vision, Bruce carefully watched the green-eyed woman. He looked for any change in body language. But to his surprise, he found nothing. It was either he was losing his touch on reading people, or that this woman was pretty good at composing herself in hiding. He knew that he was practically a master at body language so it had to be the latter option. It must be her. She was controlling herself. He was even more intrigued by her.
The nerve of the man! Anne just wanted to gag even more. Bruce Wayne had just dared to critique her artwork. She was surprised that he didn't know that it was she who painted the painting he was looking at. But then again, she didn't hold him in high regard so it made sense that he didn't have the brains to bother looking for a picture or any information of the painter that this exhibition was showcasing.
"Maybe she purposely wanted to offend the Seeing Eye. She obviously uses symbols," she slowly said; trying her best from having her tone sound heated which would reveal her true feelings of annoyance and disgust towards the billionaire.
Bruce smiled even wider. There you are. He had gotten a reaction. What pleased him most though was that he got to hear her voice. It sounded so soft to him, but strong like she bore some hidden fire. It sounded so…Beautiful… Beautiful? How could it be beautiful to him? Why would he use such a word? The image of Rachel's smile popped in his head. The wave of sadness threatened to overcome him. He also kind of felt like giving up this venture with the mysterious woman and going home. But this wasn't just about getting info about the green-eyed lady. He was still playing a part; he was acting like an ignorant playboy. And so he nodded at her with his pretend smugness.
"More like cliché," he easily countered. He decided to point out a few things. He wasn't sure if what this painter was trying to do with the symbols, but he had to keep her talking. Despite the anxiousness he felt due to still feeling the blow of Rachel's demise, he still wanted to continue. Something inside of him fueled him to continue. Besides, all he wanted was to see her eyes and to keep hearing her voice. He also had to admit that he was staring to have fun now. He sensed something exciting from her. He didn't know why, but he wanted to keep it going just for a little bit longer. "Heart for love. Moon for independence. Sun for constant. Fire for passion. Skull for death. Heard it and seen it all before," he continued.
Of course, he would say the generic stuff. Typical freeloader. "That's true…" Anne replied, trying to hold her annoyance in a little bit more. She was now even more frustrated. Here was a man that reveled in complications that look like simple things, but was trying to contradict that by having a supposedly deep conversation with her. "But if you look closer and actually think then you can realize that she's conveying that sometimes simplicity is the way to go."
Bruce blinked slightly. He felt like the conversation was going to a subject he actually had an opinion on. "Simplicity is just a word mankind made to describe something that we wanted most besides sex, money, and power," he said with certainty. "Nothing is ever simple. We humans just call things simple for the hell of it." He thought of himself as Batman. He thought about his own past. Nothing is simple. I wish it could be that easy. "What many people don't realize is that everything is complicated. Or they do realize it, but they prefer to remain in ignorance and choose not to even acknowledge it. Doubters and so forth…"
"Sometimes ignorance is bliss." Anne said with conviction. Let things be simple. Too much complication hurts. She thought of her own past; of the things she's worked to hide. Everyone ends up getting hurt.
"Ignorance is one step further to Hell." Bruce replied quickly. If we ignore things, then we are all lost. His persona Batman came to mind and all the dilemmas he's faced with being the Batman.
Anne steeled herself. Sometimes the past wins if you remember. "Then I'll see you and everyone else there," she pointedly said just as quickly.
It took Bruce quite a bit to respond to what she said. His attention was now solely focused on her eyes. Emerald. They were so strong looking and he could feel the sharp daggers she was throwing at him with those eyes. Hm. He found it a little funny that she was looking at him with such dislike. He saw the look she gave him as Batman; that look of respect and of interest. If you only knew that it was me…
"Touché," he said finally. A sudden sadness enveloped him. He liked this woman in front of him already for some reason. Perhaps it was her eyes or her aura of silent strength. He wasn't too sure. It was just that he knew he still carried pain with him. He still bore grief over his parents and Rachel. Even if I wanted to pursue something with you…a friendship or whatever... He knew that it would be for naught because he refused to let anyone else get in. He refused to let another person get hurt because of him. He wouldn't let some strange first glance fascination get the better of him. It's good that you don't like me. It has to be that way. Despite the thought in his head, he wanted it to be not true.
"Taking a cue from you… Cliché." Anne replied, trying her best to hide her contempt although she had this distinct feeling that it wasn't working. He's giving up… Or is it me? Whatever. I won't back down.
It then became a stare down. A pair of dark eyes met a pair of light ones. Soft chocolate eyes met sharp emerald eyes. Both bore intensity. Both were carried by people who had strong wills. Both had bearers that hid secret pasts and hurts.
Suddenly, a strike of familiarity hit Anne as she confronted Bruce Wayne with her eyes. It felt strange, but the thought of having seen him recently crossed her mind. Something looks… But she quickly dismissed the thought as soon as the familiarity dared to come within her. Of course Bruce Wayne was familiar. He was familiar to anyone. He was always on the news, in magazines, etc, etc. If one hasn't seen him in person then one has seen him in other media outlets. The Prince of Gotham… More like the Spoiled Brat of Gotham...
Bruce's sense of familiarity was already in place. He was only happy to have a little stare-down with the woman he saved. He was given an opportunity to look even more at her green orbs. She had eyes that captivated him. They were eyes that he couldn't dare forget.
"Oh, I see you met this evening's star, Bruce."
This evening's star? Bruce blinked rapidly. He looked at the person who spoke. It was the owner of the hotel: the unremarkable Shaun Weaver. As he stared a little bit confused at Weaver, another slightly different hit of realization came upon him. The woman he had rescued. The woman that he just had a heated banter with. How could I be so idiotic? I had every opportunity to put the name to a face… It was her all along.
"Anne Vera?" he asked, concealing his surprise with a confident tone. It all made sense now. He understood why she was being so hostile to him. They were not just talking about a painting. They were talking about her painting. How could I… It all made sense. He didn't know whether to feel ashamed for not knowing the truth right away, and for his lack of research, or feel bad for insulting the woman's work when he didn't have right to criticize it since he didn't have the credentials to do so.
He started the effort to apologize to her, but it failed for in Anne's mesmerizing emerald orbs were even more dislike in them. He only did what he did to see those eyes, but for some reason it hurt to see the displeasure in them. The things you do, Bruce… The things he tends to do marvel him at times.
"Bruce Wayne." Anne curtly said; inside seething. She could see the surprise in him which made her feel great because she didn't feel the same way as him. She was the one with the upper hand. I recognized you. But he didn't recognize her. She suspected that many didn't get the chance to visibly out-anything with this man.
Bruce resisted the urge to close his eyes in regret. If only I could… He felt someone slip their arm through his. He almost flinch it away, but when he looked to his side he realized who it was. It was the blond woman he deemed appropriate for the playboy Bruce Wayne to accompany him. He nearly had forgotten that she was even around. What was your name? But the name didn't come to mind for his attention was solely on Anne.
"Nice to meet you," he finally greeted.
Anne found it very hard to resist rolling her eyes, but luckily she was able to control herself. Oh, yes. Very nice to meet you. She just smiled nonchalantly and nodded. She knew that if she spoke again she would only sound like a fired-up bitch. Not like you don't deserve it. She had to get away or else she would say something that would blatantly reveal her true feelings of distaste for Wayne.
"Excuse me," she said; not looking at Wayne, but at the owner Shaun Weaver. "I'm afraid I have other guests to attend to." With that, she didn't give Wayne any of sort of look and left.
Bruce watched her walk away towards a few ladies by the dining area and the bar. He regretted that her first impression of him was so bad. It has to be that way… But he hoped that he could amend everything somehow. But why? Didn't I resolve to let it go? He knew it was so because there was something about Anne Vera; something that intrigued him. Green like a jewel. It definitely had something to do with her eyes.
"So. Did you have a nice conversation with our artist of the night?" Shaun Weaver gruffly asked him with his big toothy smile.
Bruce didn't answer at first because his keen eyes were discreetly surveying the whereabouts of Anne, and the possible routes danger might come from. He felt a nudge from the date of his, and nodded slightly.
He gave Weaver a winning smile. "Pleasant? No. We just had a verbal spar, I believe."
Shaun's big eyes widened so much that they looked like the eyes of an owl. The gap between his eyebrows were more evident now especially the incoming uni-brow. He smiled in such pleasure that Bruce couldn't help, but give this guy credit for being so happy go lucky, or so the owner let on to the world.
"Really?" the older man asked excitedly. "Who won?"
Bruce didn't really have an answer. It wasn't like he was trying to have a verbal sparring with her. What he wanted was to alleviate his instant curiosity about her. But the problem was the little back and forth he had with her only proved to created more interest about her. He knew he couldn't just let her walk away like that. He needed to learn more.
"I'm not entirely sure," he simply said.
xoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxox...xoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxox...xoxoxoxooxxo
Anne grumbled to herself about the ignorance of Bruce Wayne as she made her way toward table 29. She was appalled by the gall that man had to criticize her painting. He was nothing but a freeloading, spoiled brat. He had no right to say the things he said. She was fuming, but she couldn't show that to her friends. So as she met up with them, she composed herself and gave them her patented smile.
To her curiosity, Lisa was grinning madly at her while the others just drank their beverages and looked at each other like they knew something she didn't. Anne could only let her smile fade and glared at her nosy friends. She suspected that they saw her arguing with Wayne, but she wouldn't let them make fun of her for it.
"I saw you, girl!" Lisa exclaimed excitedly. "You were talking to Bruce Wayne!"
Anne wanted to knock her head against the wall. There she goes. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she calmly sat down next to her best girl friend Sam. "Talking… doesn't mean a thing," she replied, "It doesn't mean shit to me at all at this point especially with a man like Bruce Wayne."
Christine snorted. "And you said that you didn't like rich boys."
"I don't," Anne reassured, her bright eyes suddenly darkening. "Especially of the likes of that freeloader…" Why would anyone be interested in him? All he was – was a bad case of testosterone. "The only reason anyone goes for him is because he's rich and he can buy their favor. He's like the old kings of the 15th century and what-no, but without the responsibility hence him being called a freeloader."
Giggling Lisa responded, "Well, despite the fact you hate him. You got to admit…. That man is appealing to the eye which makes him really delicious." She turned her head to glance at Wayne who was chatting with some ladies and another business man.
Anne snorted. "Well then, why don't you just join the Bruce Wayne Club?" she suggested.
"Club?" Lisa asked in confusion.
Christine immediately understood where Anne was going and nodded. "Oh yes. There's a Bruce Wayne anti-celibacy club. All you have to do is go through the rite of passage."
"What sort of passage?"
"Simple."
"How simple?"
"Sleep with him." Anne and Christine said simultaneously.
Silence filled he space between the two friends. Anne and Christine just stared at their friend Lisa with their best serious looks. The short browned hair woman looked back and forth between the two friends. She was shocked. They had just suggested that she should have a one night stand with Bruce Wayne. It wasn't like she was complaining. It was just confusing. She knew that neither lady like the billionaire.
Why would…. Why would they such a thing? But then she looked deeper into their eyes, and found something she was happy to see. It was humor. She knew humor very well and reveled in it. She was glad that her friends were only teasing her rather than mocking her. She had been scared for a moment.
Anne and Christine laughed at the look in Lisa's eyes. "Did you really think we'd send you off to a man like Wayne?" the emerald-eyed one asked. She took her friend's hand and squeezed. "You mean too much to us for us to let you go like that."
Lisa laughed. "I know," she said. "But I must admit to you guys… I wouldn't mind having a go at it with Wayne"
Both ladies were stunned while Sam just shook her head and continued looking through her phone.
"What?" Christine asked. Of the group of girlfriends, she was the only one that shared that dislike of the Prince of Gotham with Anne although not with as much vigor as Anne had against him. But still, she didn't like the guy and she couldn't understand why Lisa did. "Why? Why would you consider such a horrid thing?"
Laughing harder, Lisa explained, "For one, he's sexy." She nodded her head excitedly and mouthed, "So freaking sexy." She looked at her friends with more joy in her eyes. "And two, he's insanely rich."
"And three…" Anne said expectantly. She wished to help Lisa see the error of her ways, but she couldn't deny that she wasn't having fun. She enjoyed when she and her girl friends talked like this. It was pretty freeing.
Lisa leaned forward; getting closer to them as if what she had to say was a big secret. Anne and Christine played along and leaned towards her to gain the valuable information.
"Three…" Lisa said with excitement. "I've heard he's a god in bed."
Christine laughed as Anne blinked. They both then shook their heads and returned to how they were sitting before which made Lisa quite baffled. This was not the response she expected or was going for.
"What?" she asked in concerned tone.
Anne smiled softly. As much as she liked to tease Lisa, she knew how fragile the woman really was. "Bruce Wayne may be a man to bring to your bed," she answered, "but he's not a man to bring to your parents and share a life with."
Lisa, stubborn as a mule, didn't seem to care. "Who said I wanted to marry him?"
Everyone at the table laughed in good will.
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Ever since Anne departed ways from him, Bruce has since been caught up in unwanted conversations with people he didn't know, people he didn't like, and people he didn't care about. Every talk was about the hottest fad in the world and Batman. Even his French companion had become a bore to him. All he did was make the right moves to please those around him without revealing his disinterest in those around him.
Green… His only interest was on Anne Vera. Her face was clearly in his mind, and he couldn't get it out. What surprised him was that her face was battling the image of Rachel's, and he didn't know what to do about it. He knew that the picture of his lost love strayed into his view because he missed her so much. But what was curious was that a woman he barely knew had some weight in his mind for he couldn't dismiss Anne's face away so easily.
She had a young face, but despite the youth that she obviously had on her skin there was also some hint of age to her. It was like something wise and shadowed age was beneath the youth exterior. There was a certain crinkling of her skin that he recognized around his own eyes in the mirror. It was a barely veiled fatigue like she hadn't been sleeping well. Her face was elegant and angular with wide yet sharp cheekbones. Her complexion was both fair and golden. He had no doubt that she could turn olive within a few days exposed under the sun.
But it was her eyes that were the most fascinating feature of hers. Her eyes seemed to overtake everything else. It even overtook her long, layered black hair. Her eyes were a certain shade of green – emerald green. Those eyes held shadows in them – things hidden from plain view. There was something about those eyes. He just couldn't put his finger on what it could be.
That's why I couldn't stop staring until she turned her back on me to fend off another attacker. She was born with the eyes of myth. Eyes that were meant to mystify; to work like hooks and tantalize those that look into them. He had only met a few people who bore something akin to what she had in her orbs. His mother had it, Fox has it, The Joker has it, and his once mentor-turned enemy Henri Ducard had it. She was rare person because of her eyes. He couldn't let go of her eyes.
From the conversation he had with her earlier, he could tell that she was one of those people who thought that he was a horrible person, a player, and a brat. But that's not me. He wasn't quite sure why he kind of was inclined to show Vera that it wasn't so. Show her that it's all a cover… Like Batman? He wasn't going to tell her about that part of his life, but he felt like he wanted to reveal some things to her.
But why, he asked himself. Why did he now suddenly want to show Anne that it was all a cover; that there's more to him than what he shows? Bruce saw Rachel's face come up in his mind's eye again. Her smile took his breath away. He knew that he was still in love with her. So he knew that whatever this interest was in Anne was not for romantic reasons.
He has yet to talk to anyone about Rachel. He hasn't even talked to Alfred about it. He couldn't. It just all hurt too much and it felt too soon. Sure, it's been months since she died, but he loved her! She was the one for him! Ever since her passing, she haunted him. Everywhere he went he was reminded of her; reminded of his parents. He had plunged himself into his work even more now so he would avoid talking about how it all affected him. He kept telling himself that he had to be strong for Gotham; that his hurts don't matter. Because they don't.
It didn't hide the fact that Rachel was close to him in public. He made sure to put forth to the world that he had cared for her, but didn't further explain how he cared for her and in what way. I wonder if Anne knows. He deemed that she probably does know what everyone else knows, but doesn't care. She dislikes him immensely.
Maybe that's why… He wasn't sure how long anyone was supposed to grieve. But something about Anne riveted him. He did have some fun bantering with her despite the knowledge that she dislikes him. There was a sort of peculiar excitement rushing through him when he first riled her up. He had felt this way in a long time. Maybe… Maybe that's what he needed. A new goal…a challenge…a friend. "Maybe…" he mused silently to himself.
"Has Batman been caught yet?" asked his lady companion.
Shaun Weaver shook his head. "Not yet. He's evasive," he replied, "but he will be caught soon. I know it."
Curiosity sparkled in the French woman's eyes. "Is that so?" she asked. She looked back and forth between Wayne and Weaver. "I hear that some people still look to Batman for help." She continued with a little smile, "I also here that he still prowls the streets of Gotham looking for criminals to help put away."
Bruce laughed along with his companion of the night and the owner of the hotel. It was slightly comforting to know that some people of the city till thought Batman was innocent. But like he told Gordon – he wasn't the hero that Gotham needs. And he will continue to play the role that Gotham needed him to be in.
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TBC
End-note: I hope you enjoyed the edited chapter!