Chapter Seven

The day after Lysa's encounter with the Batman

Around twelve-thirty the next afternoon, Lyssandra was in a cab heading towards the city yet again. She was meeting her mother for lunch, and she had no doubt Rachel would've heard about what happened the night before. To both her surprise and relief, the story hadn't graced any pages of the news.

When she'd got home last night, Bruce had buried her in questions. He'd said that the police had given him a pretty vague recount of what had happened. "It was those boys again, the ones from earlier in the week," she'd told him, sipping some warm hot chocolate that Alfred had made for her. They were sitting side by side in the living room, across from a burning fireplace. Lysa's head rested on her father's shoulder, and he was gently stroking her hair. It felt almost as good as the hug they'd shared only ten minutes before. "Walker pulled a knife on me, but then the craziest thing happened," she continued, resting her mug on a coaster on the coffee table. "The Batman showed up… came out of nowhere. He got two of the boys arrested. He… he saved me."

"You mean that crazy vigilante everyone keeps talking about?" Bruce asked, seeming to not believe the situation either. Lysa detected something else in his tone… something she couldn't quite place. "Yeah… it was actually pretty incredible, in a weird way," she admitted. "Maybe he isn't some nut after all," he commented, making Lysa giggle. "I should thank him."

"Yes you should," Lysa agreed, smiling up at her father, though he didn't return the smile. "Lysa," he sighed. "I'm so sorry this happened. When I got the call… I was so scared. I couldn't bear the thought of losing you," his eyes shined. He didn't need to say anything else; she knew what he was thinking. "It's not your fault," she said. Bruce didn't reply, and they sat on the sofa, staring at the burning fire. She was half asleep when Bruce carried her to her room and tucked her into bed. He kissed her lightly on the cheek. "I love you," he whispered. Just on the brink of falling asleep, Lysa could've sworn she'd whispered "I love you" back.

"That'll be thirty-five eighty," the cab driver said, pulling her from her thoughts. Was she there already? Lysa gazed out the window and sure enough, the DA's office was beside her. Passing the cab driver two twenty dollar bills and muttering to keep the change, she stepped out into the busy Gotham streets. Groups of people in business suits took long strides down the sidewalk, heading to or from lunch. Lysa checked her phone. It was twelve forty-five. After lunch she had to return her book to the library. She'd forgotten amid all the chaos of the night before. Ms. Rainer would give her hell for it, and Lysa was pretty sure that "being saved by the Batman" was not an excuse she could use to get out of paying a fine.

As she stepped into the DA's office, people milled around, quickly walking from cubicle to cubicle. Rachel wasn't kidding when she said this place was always busy. Lysa gazed around the offices, trying to look for her mother's. She had no luck, and people were giving her confused looks. What is Bruce Wayne's daughter doing here? They must've been wondering.

"Do you need help finding someone?" A voice said behind her, startling her. She spun on her heels, turning to the voice. A tall man stood in front of her, with tanned skin and brown curly hair. He wore a pair of thin glasses. She swore she saw him before, and then she remembered that he'd been in the news. Dr. Jonathan Crane from Arkham Asylum. He'd been the one to confirm that Falcone was crazy. Her mother used to talk about him frequently, worshiping his work. "I'm just looking for my mother, Dr. Crane," she replied. "Rachel?" He flashed her a smile. "I believe she's in a meeting. She should be out in a minute." Dr. Crane was about to leave, but he pause and gazed back at her. "You're Lyssandra Wayne, right? Bruce Wayne's daughter?"

Lysa was growing tired of answering this question, but she smiled politely anyway. "That's right," she said. "I'm sorry," Dr. Crane replied, shaking his head. Lysa stared at him, confused at his response. "What do you mean?" She asked, crossing her arms. "Well it's no secret that Bruce has been acting... irresponsibly since he got back," he said, crinkling his nose in disgust. "I can imagine he's been quite a handful." Though Dr. Crane wasn't technically lying, she still felt the need to defend her father. "Well, no one's really seen him like I have. He's actually a pretty remarkable father, despite what those trashy tabloids say," she retorted, narrowing her eyes. Well, despite the fact that he disappeares for hours at a time. She surprised herself, saying those words. It had only been about two weeks since she wanted nothing to do with her father. Dr. Crane pursed his lips, but smiled tightly. "Ms. Wayne, why don't you come come down to my office some day and see what I do," he suggested. "I remember you being interested in psychology, right?"

"Forensics, actually," Lysa replied, smiling stiffly. She wanted nothing more than to leave and find her mother. He stared at her in a way that made her slightly uncomfortable.

"Lysa, there you are!" Her mother said, coming up from behind her. A rush of relief flowed through her. "And Dr. Crane," she said, gazing at the man across from her. "I didn't know you were here."

"Yeah, I'm just here to talk to the DA about Falcone's condition," he shrugged as if it were no big deal. "Then I bumped into Lysa, and we got talking. She is quite exceptional." Rachel smiled with pride. "Thank you, Dr. Crane," she checked her watch out of habit. "Now we must be going, I promised this exceptional girl a lunch."

"Well it's been very nice meeting you, Ms. Wayne," he said. "You too, ," she replied, smiling politely though she wanted to scowl at him. He left towards the DA's office a second later, but turned his head to look at her one last time.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't able to call last night," Rachel said as they walked towards the sushi restaurant. "I was super busy, and I would've come over to the manor if I could. I was so worried." Lysa just shrugged it off. "It's okay, Bruce handled it fine. And nothing serious happened."

"Nothing serious?! You were jumped by four boys!"

"But the Batman showed up before they could do anything." Rachel stared at her for a moment before she said anything. "The Batman?" Lysa nodded, wide-eyed. "Well, thank God for that," Rachel added.

Lysa and Rachel walked into the restaurant, and the hostess sat them in a booth by the window, where they could see busy streets and practically all of the office buildings on the street. "Lysa," her mother said, catching her attention. "It was good you of you to set this up," she said, smiling at her. "I told you, it was Bruce's idea," Lysa reminded her, though she was glad he set it up. Rachel laughed a little and sighed. "Still… I'm sorry about never being home." Lysa was expecting her mother to continue with some excuse, but nothing came. "I'm sorry I put my job first and I'm sorry I was a bad mother. I'm so sorry." Lysa didn't say anything, stunned. She stared at her mother, and took in what she said. She could tell she meant it. "I'm sorry too, for snapping about you not being at home and stuff," Lysa apologized, which was long overdue. "I know your job can be stressful, and I should've respected that."

"And I should've been there for you when you needed it most," Rachel said. She felt as if a weight had lifted off her shoulders, now that she was finally making amends with her mother. It felt good to have a somewhat functional family again. They went on talking and talking long after they finished their meals, about everything. Movies, books, memories (for which Lysa corrected most of her mother's) and even the Batman. When Rachel checked her watch, she almost jumped with shock. "Shit," she muttered. "I'm late. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Lysa said, waving it off. Rachel smiled she paid the bill and they left the restaurant, back out into the noisy Gotham streets. Lysa watched as Rachel walked back to the DA's office, and then she got a cab to drop off her book at the library.


Later than night, after completing an extensive amount of homework, she was finally ready to go to bed. Lysa could rest easy, since she didn't have to worry about Walker and his friends being at school the next day, thanks to the Batman. Though thoughts still whirled in her about mind about who he was. Alfred's words drifted to her mind again… he had a late night… For some reason, she couldn't stop thinking about it, the picture in the news was practically burned into her memory, not to mention the night he saved her. It was all staring to give her a headache. She plopped on her bed and closed her eyes, trying to leave her thoughts for tomorrow.

Lysa was half asleep when she was woken up by heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Or rather, a set of footsteps and the banging of something against the carpeted stairs. Now completely alert, Lysa rushed out of her room towards the staircase. She let out a loud gasp when she saw Alfred carrying a half-conscious Bruce up the stairs. His forehead was coated with sweat, and his clothes were completely disheveled. "What the hell happened?" She cried, running towards Alfred and her father. She took his arm and put it around her shoulder to help Alfred get him to his room. "I'll explain everything later," Alfred huffed, out of breath.

By the time they got Bruce to the master bedroom, her legs were burning and her heart was beating like a bass drum. They set Bruce on the bed and he was mumbling something unintelligible. Lysa sat on the bed beside him, staring at her father. A thousand thoughts rushed through her head, but she pushed them away. She took her father's clammy hand in hers, squeezing it like it would wake him up. "Dad, what the hell did you do?" she whispered, tears starting to form in her eyes. It was then that she realized that it was the first time she'd used the word "dad" since Bruce got back. Answers of his disappearance still awaited her, but Lysa couldn't be angry with him… at least not at the moment. She only wanted him to wake up and hug her and tell her that everything's all right. She couldn't lose him again.

"He has to wake up, Alfred," she sobbed. "I just got him back. He didn't even tell where he'd been for the past seven years." She felt Alfred's warm hands on her shoulders. "I'm sure he will be absolutely fine," he comforted her. She wanted to believe him, she had to believe him.

After losing track of how long Lysa'd been sitting next to Bruce, Alfred eventually escorted to her room and tucked her into bed. "You have school tomorrow, Miss Wayne. You need sleep," he said as he turned off the lights of her room. The room was flooded with darkness, apart from the light of the moon that peered through her curtains. He was right, and despite everything, at least she had some comfort in knowing that Walker would not be in school. "Goodnight, Alfred," she mumbled, closing her eyes. "Goodnight, Miss Wayne."


Lysa checked on her father the next morning, hoping that he would be awake, or that his condition would've at least improved. Alfred was in his room when she entered, simply staring at him. He looked at her and shook his head. Nothing had changed. She sat with her father again until Alfred insisted that they leave for school.

The story hadn't been on the news, but word of Walker's arrest spread like a wildfire around the school. Everyone was talking about him, about Lysa and about the Batman. And she'd thought that the days of staring and gossiping were over. That's what you get for being a Wayne. Mason and Alexa were good with not bringing it up, they hardly asked any questions and most of it was confirming or denying the rumours spreading around the school. Yes, the Batman knocked him out. No, the Batman didn't kill any of the boys. No, Lysa didn't see the Batman's face.

The day dragged on slower than usual. Most the time Lysa found her thoughts wandering to her father, how he was doing, what was happening to him. During chemistry, she got so lost in her worried thoughts that the note she was supposed to be taking was only half-completed. When the final bell rang, she rushed out of the school as fast as she could, almost forgetting to say goodbye to Mason and Alexa. Alfred was awaiting her in a black Rolls Royce on the curb and she practically flung herself into the passenger's seat. "Anxious to leave, Miss Wayne?" he asked, starting the car's engine. "Just worried about Dad," she replied. The word slipped right out of her mouth yet again, without thinking. Her mother would be happy that she and Bruce were getting along.

"How was he when you left?" she asked, shifting in the passenger's seat for what felt like the millionth time. "No change, which is both a good and bad thing," he replied. Lysa nodded and turned her gaze back to the window.

It seemed as if an eternity passed before they got back to Wayne Manor. Before Alfred completely stopped the car, Lysa already bounced out and burst through the entrance of the manor. She raced up the stairs to her father's room, not waiting for Alfred to catch up. When she got there, she expected to see him breathing soundly, but he wasn't. She gasped and rushed towards him, grabbing his hand. Sweated formed on his forehead, his breathing was erratic and he was tossing and turning in the bed. "Alfred!" she cried, silently praying that Bruce would get better, that Alfred would concoct some magical cure for him. Alfred rushed into the room, not wasting any time on Bruce's worsened condition. "Miss Wayne, get a cold damp cloth for Master Wayne's forehead, I need to make a call," he said. Lysa stood, still looking at her father nervously. "You sure he'll be alright?"

"I will do everything in my power to make sure that is the case." Lysa nodded, wiping a tear from her cheek.

After twenty agonizing minutes of sitting with Bruce while he tossed and turned, the doorbell rang. Lysa didn't even look up when Alfred left to answer it, and then minutes later entered the room again, this time with Mr. Fox. Of all people, why had Alfred called him? But she guessed she would find out. At this rate, she would accept any help at all. By then, Bruce's breathing slowed, but it still seemed he was on the verge of hyperventilating. Like any small movement would throw off his breathing. She watched attentively as Mr. Fox pulled out a syringe from his brief case and drew blood from Bruce's arm. "What are you going to do, Mr. Fox?" He gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm going to see what exactly is wrong with your father," he replied. "However, this might take a while, you'll have to update me immediately if Bruce's condition changes."

"Thank you, Mr. Fox," Alfred said, shaking his hand. Lysa only stared at her father, biting her thumb nail, a habit she'd stopped years ago. "Ms. Wayne, you'll drive yourself insane staring at him all day," she heard Mr. Fox say. "Don't worry too much. Nothing can keep Bruce Wayne down." She offered a small nod towards him and he left the room with Alfred. Right now, Lysa could only hope that was true.