Bat Appétit
A Batman Begins/Dark Knight/Dark Knight Rises Fanfic by SouthernImagineer/ecto1B
Chapter Nine - dedicated to my good friend Katie, who tolerated me when I showed her my Joseph Gordon-Levitt inspired binder cover.


"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit." – Albert Schweitzer

Just as she'd promised a week before, Monty De Luca reappeared at the Wayne Manor, this time—instead of chicken piccata—bringing a steaming bowl of rigatoni for Bruce to sink his teeth into. And he did, in fact, devour the entire bowl in just under a half an hour—all the while venting his frustrations to the woman seated nearby. She didn't seem to care that he went out on so many limbs and changed topics without warning; she didn't complain when he raised his voice, or when he became so wrought with emotion that he excused himself from the room. Monty simply sat there, attentive, affable, altogether courteous to the frenzied troglodyte's sermons, occasionally nodding her head when he directed a question her way.

"And politics these days…" When one of Bruce's speeches began this way, he noticed Monty tilt her head, eager to hear his views on the current situation. "It's a nightmare, I tell you. No one can run for office without having the media peel the very skin from their backs. I know what it's like to have cameras breathing down your neck every instant, and I don't think it's right for these fools to treat politicians like celebrities! The guy has a bit of power for a while, does his best to improve the current conditions, and suddenly we scrutinize him as if we know him personally, as if we know what kind of burden the guy carries." Out of the corner of his eye, Bruce noticed Monty dip her head in agreement. He carried on, gripping the back of the chair and looking straight at her. "I mean, so what if the guy made a few mistakes growing up? He learned from them, didn't he?"

This conversation veered off into one about celebrities, and the different classifications Bruce gave them. All in all, it was an uninteresting fumble of words; even Bruce knew his choice of topics were banal and incredibly dull.

And yet, she stayed.

Perhaps it was a blind move on his part. Perhaps he acted too quickly, acted irrationally. Perhaps his decision was a weak one, spurred on by impulse.

But it was decided.

Monty would visit the manor every week until further notice.

"Was that what you intended me to do, Alfred?" Bruce asked his butler one night as the two friends watched Monty's car fade into the distance. She'd visited a total of three weeks then, and already Bruce felt himself growing attached to her presence. "Did you intend for me to enjoy her company? To require I borrow her ear for an hour or two and completely drill it into the ground with my rants?"

At this, the older man merely chuckled.

"Now, why would I do that, Master Bruce?"

Bruce squeezed the handle of his cane, also managing a small smile. "Whatever you did, it worked. She brings good food, and she just sits there, listening." He tilted his head, now pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes at the window. "I wonder what made her agree to it… agree to everything."

Alfred gave him a look. "She likes to cook. She hasn't been able to cook since De Luca's was ruined. That could be why."

"She gains nothing from doing this, Alfred," Bruce replied, "and we know for a fact that everyone has a motive." His eyes trained on the headlights in the distance. "So what is hers?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Master Bruce. She's got a good head on her shoulders, though." Alfred spoke with affirmation. "I'd rule out anything shady."

"I want her to gain something, though," the billionaire said abruptly. "Her restaurant. It's in disrepair." He worried his lip. "Maybe the Wayne Foundation should start making anonymous donations." When Alfred flashed him a mild look of astonishment, Bruce continued. "Just because I choose to lock myself away in here doesn't mean I can't do something to help her. She is the one voluntarily sitting in on my tirades."

The butler suddenly began to smile. "I think that's a wonderful idea, Master Bruce. A wonderful idea. I think she'd be very pleased."

"Call Lucius in the morning," Bruce said quickly. "Anonymous donations. Small amounts at first. Progressive. We don't want to overwhelm them."

"Of course." Alfred dipped his head, watching Bruce hobble across the entryway and to the staircase. "Will that be all for tonight, Master Bruce?"

Pausing at the railing, the dark-haired man pivoted his head back around. His facial hair had grown thicker, bushier, and it cast a shadow along his weakened frame.

"I'm good, Alfred. Thank you."

Two synchronized nods, and the pair dispersed to their designated quarters, leaving the home's entryway to bask in the moon's pensive glow.


"How is he?"

"Loud. Emotional." Monty reclined on the couch, staring across the room at her father. "I can definitely see his temper. Almost pains me to watch him speak." Gently, she rested her elbows on her knees, making frantic hand motions to go along with her words. "He just… goes on forever, you know? At some points, you can see all this hatred in his face, all of these hard grooves behind his beard. His lips curl, his eyes darken…" A shudder ran through her. "Books are always describing anger by saying a character just falls. Every primal emotion is shown in one vehement second and you can see every little detail of their face…" Here, she paused, becoming wrapped up in her words. "But you never see it in real life. You never see that animosity in a real person. But I have." She wagged a finger. "I've seen it in him. Mania. Absolute mania. His eyes actually get thicker and turn a darker shade." Another shudder ran through her, and hastily she snatched the nearest pillow and placed it on her lap. "It's… bizarre."

Lillian, who was seated on a leather chair nearby, lowered the cup of coffee from her lips. "Are you scared of him?"

Monty's response was tentative, softer than her previous words. "Yes… and no. He has rage, definitely, and you see it building beneath him, and when he lets it go, he just fizzes out." Now her gaze carried to a blank spot of wall beside her father. "But I know the fury isn't directed at me. It's not me he's mad at. It's… other things. Normal things. Day-to-day occurrences that just send him up the wall. So not really… I'm not very afraid of him. He won't hurt me."

Coughing, Lillian tilted her head. "So he has a conscience," she said briskly. "That's what you're implying here, isn't it? The man fit enough to scream at you has an inner voice of reason. Morals, values."

She sounded cynical, almost hurtfully so.

"Mom." Monty began her usual routine of reasoning with her mother. "In fact, he does. You should hear him sometimes. I've seen him cry. He's not a monster, he's—"

"Cry?" At last, Philip entered the conversation. "Jesus, Monty. You've been over there three times and you're already making him cry?"

Monty wasn't sure if her father was joking or not. "He was talking about Rachel Dawes, Dad. I didn't make him cry. She's the woman that was dating Harvey Dent."

"But that's the woman in…" Philip tried, hesitating.

"The explosion," Monty finished. "Yeah, Dad." Biting her lip, Monty looked down. "Bruce was in love with her, and she died. He misses her a lot. Somehow, last time, he brought her up. He told me a story about when the two of them were little kids. They were playing in the gardens, and he fell down a well."

"And that was enough to make a grown man cry?"

She sucked in a breath. "Yes, Mom. I watched a grown man cry. I think we've established that."

"Anyway." Philip waved off his wife and returned to his daughter, changing the subject. "You say the anonymous donation was from him?"

"Who else would donate to us? Who else knows our current situation? Yes, Dad. I believe he's the donor." She shrugged. "My plan is working. Maybe he'll donate more soon, once I've spent more time with him."

Glancing down at the check in his hands, Philip sighed. Monty studied his eyes as he did so, watching as they scoured the piece of paper, as if it didn't exist.

"Well," he said finally, exhaling again. "You do what you feel is right, Monty. We will support you one hundred percent."

She gave the slightest of nods.

"Thanks, Dad."

Inwardly, Monty felt her stomach drop.

I can do this.

She pursed her lips.

It's all for the restaurant.


An entire year passed, drumming like a monotone beat in the ears of all Gothamites. Officially, on the first anniversary of Harvey Dent's death, it became known that the Batman had gone into hiding. One year after he'd last shown his face, one year after the city condemned his behaviors, and one year after his name became mud to all Gotham inhabitants. No one truly minded; they'd denounced the Dark Knight after his supposed killing spree, and not a soul seemed to care that he'd vanished.

It wasn't as if the city was incapable without him. The Dent Act began to show its true colors during this time, giving the GCPD a tighter grasp on criminal activity and those conspiring. Even without the Batman, crime rates trickled lower and lower, thanks to a new severity to oncoming police officers and a stringent limitation of distributing parole to criminals at Blackgate.

A more peaceful version of Gotham City emerged.

Happier tones descended everywhere among the bustling metropolis. With each passing month came a new donation to De Luca's, and a new bout of repairs and remodels. Business started up again, and the De Luca family—along with their many faithful employees—went back to work.

Even Curtis joined in the revelry.

"This is great, Monty. Really, it is. Crime rates are down, the restaurant's up and running, and the big dumb bat hasn't reared his ugly face in an entire year!" Almost too enthusiastically, he shook her shoulders, causing her to add too much salt to the dish in front of her. She groaned and tried to fix it as he went on. "I swear this has got to be thanks to that idea of mine. Visiting Bruce Wayne, getting his money… genius! A genius idea! And look what it's done for us!" He motioned around the kitchen, pointing out new appliances. "All it took was a year, and look!"

Monty rolled her eyes. "Weren't you the one who told me the idea was a joke, and that I was crazy for pursuing it?"

Either he hadn't heard her, or he just chose to ignore her. "Are you still regularly visiting ol' Brucey up in his mansion?"

"As a matter of fact, I am!" Monty stopped what she was doing and faced her friend. "I like him, and he seems to like me."

"Is it you that he likes, or is it the food?"

Hastily snatching a nearby stack of napkins, Monty slapped him, grinning.

"Both. He's a good guy, Curtis. I'm enjoying my time with him."

"And… the money will keep on coming, so long as you stay friends with him."

"Exactly."

"Will you ever tell him?"

Monty froze. "T-Tell him what?"

"That this was all for the money," Curtis responded calmly. "You know, that the friendship was only initiated because he's wealthy."

She couldn't believe her ears. She narrowed her eyes and placed a hand on her waist. "Look, Curtis. What he doesn't know won't kill him. I'm doing this for my family, remember? To repair the damages done to our way of life. Basic stuff! If he hasn't figured it out by now…" She shrugged, turning back around. "Then maybe he doesn't deserve to know."

Monty heard him sigh behind her. "You dig that hole and keep on digging until you can't dig any more," Curtis said, almost prophetically, his blue eyes thoughtful, "but don't expect there to be any ladder to climb out of it when he finds out. Escaping the hole will be your job, and you may not walk out of that with a friend…"

"You don't have to go all Yoda on me, Curt. I get it." Nodding, she shrugged again. "I won't 'count my chickens before they hatch,' okay?"

Smirking, he patted her head and walked back to his station nearby.

"Good."


A/N: Shorter chapter today! (Sorry AxMxzainyzfan, I know your constructive criticism was for chapters to be longer... hehe!) I promise, though, things will be getting really good soon... I've already plotted out chapters 10-15, and we have some SMUT coming up in the near future! So kiddies, hold onto your hats!

I'll say it again, this story WILL become a Mature story... JUST because it really needs it. Is it Monty/Bruce smut? We'll see...

And don't worry John Blake fans! The handsome police officer will be joining us around chapter 15!

Review, if you'd like! It'd make me smile :)

Oh! Anyone know a good song that fits this story? I need a bit of help...