Sorry for the wait, folks. Thanks to all who reviewed the previous chapters! Here's the next one.
Chapter 9
When the doorbell rang throughout Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth walked calmly to the front double doors, not needing to look through the peephole.
The butler pulled one of the doors open and, as expected, a casually dressed red-haired man was waiting on the landing. And, as expected, he wasn't exactly waiting patiently. He was slightly hunched over, peering at something next to the doors. The only thing of consequence in that general area was the doorbell.
"Are you sure this isn't bugged from the outside?" asked the man without looking up.
"Master Bruce has made certain that the entire manor, both inside and out, is completely bug-free. And I must express my intense surprise at your use of the front door. Is this the third time you've entered the premises without breaking and entering?"
"Fourth, actually." Vic Sage abandoned his investigation of the doorbell and made eye contact for the first time.
"Oh my," breathed Alfred upon seeing the massive bruise over his guest's cheek. "What in heaven's name happened to you?"
Vic shrugged. "Fight."
"Ah. I trust you were the victor, then? No pun intended."
"In fact I was," he affirmed happily, stepping into the manor.
"Excellent news, sir."
Mindlessly scanning for more nonexistent bugs along the walls and ceiling, Vic noticed the subtle music playing around him.
"Tchaikovsky?" he asked.
Alfred smiled. "Indeed. Master Timothy has been busy with the Titans, and with Master Bruce hibernating in the cave, I thought I'd treat myself and our depressing abode to some of the finest in classical compositions. It is beautiful, don't you think?"
"I prefer Verdi," Vic said, attempting to conceal the grin creeping across his face. His memory flashed back to a few months ago when he had snuck up on Helena in her apartment, catching her in the act of doing Tai Chi to Giuseppe Verdi's La Traviata in her living room. Needless to say, when Vic butted in and synced his own movements with Helena's, it wasn't reminiscent of Tai Chi. At all. A shiver ran up his spine as the memory concluded with the image of the two of them passed out on the floor, completely naked, Verdi still playing in the background.
The strange look on the redhead's face did not go unnoticed by the butler. "I take it you have an affinity for Italians, then?" he asked, a hint of cunning in his polite voice.
Still lost in thought, Vic mumbled an answer. "Italians…yes…"
Alfred expected nothing less than the reaction he received, confirming his suspicions. "I say, Master Victor," he said mockingly, "your lack of subtlety, although faintly amusing, would not go over well with Ms. Bertinelli."
At the mention of Helena's name, Vic came out of his trance to the embarrassing realization that he was caught. "Uhh…" he mumbled, virtually speechless.
"Not to worry, though," said Alfred, making his way down the hall toward the grandfather clock. "Poor Bruce is overtaken with that same dazed, buffoonish grin whenever he has a certain Princess of the Amazons on his mind."
Still unable to speak, Vic followed the butler down the hallway.
"I just wish he'd take some initiative and act upon his affections for Miss Diana. They are no secret. And the man is not what you'd call a spring chicken, you know!"
Alfred sighed when he got to the clock, turning back to face the still-blushing Vic Sage.
"But you, my boy, have done very well for yourself. Perhaps you could even give the old Bat some advice on the proper way to romance a beautiful heroine. You seem to have mastered that skill quite adequately, haven't you?" he said proudly.
"Uhh, yeah…guess I have," he mumbled stupidly, still processing all of Alfred's words.
"Oh, don't look so shocked, sir," he reassured the younger man. "I've been the Batman's butler for three decades, now. I am practically clairvoyant."
This provoked a laugh from the previously dumbfounded Vic.
Alfred slid the clock aside to reveal the hidden steel door to the Batcave, but he looked back before opening that, too. "Just a fair warning. He's been in a rotten mood all morning."
The curious detective in Vic came forward. "Why is that?"
"It could have something to do with the 8 AM board meeting he sat through, or it might be something else entirely. Something…closer to the heart, maybe."
Vic caught the subtle message in the elderly man's tone. Clairvoyant, indeed. "Hmm. Appreciate the heads up."
The steel door slid back and Alfred ushered him into the cave. "Always a pleasure, Master Victor," he said graciously.
"Thank you, Alfred."
The butler gave a nod and disappeared behind the door, leaving Vic alone at the top of the stairs.
He walked down the twenty-some steps into the cave, taking note of the eerie silence all around him. A group of bats hung from the stalactite jutting out from the high ceiling. The Batcomputer was on and humming softly, the bright screens supplying the only light in the cave. But the Bat himself was out of sight.
Once Vic had reached the bottom of the stairs, he wandered silently past the computer and around the corner. Unsurprisingly, he found a man-sized bat brooding in a stone chair, completely enveloped in shadows.
"You're late," came the familiar stiff voice.
He peeked down at his watch to discover that he was actually early. "I will be in four minutes. But I can leave and come back when it's fashionable."
"So it's going to be one of those days," Bruce grumbled.
"It's always one of those days."
"Yeah." A tired sigh came from the man in the shadows.
"Are you going to tell me why I'm really here, Bruce?"
The World's Greatest Detective was silent for a few moments as he adjusted to the fact that he was talking to the world's second greatest detective. "Nygma got about a hundred feet out of Arkham before I caught him and dragged him back. Tried to convince me he was cured."
"Hurm. You've gotten better at warping the truth. Should've known."
"I didn't lie to you."
"You told me there was a riddle."
"There is a riddle, just not from him. More of a dilemma."
After careful consideration, Vic arrived at only one possible conclusion. "Did you really make me get out of a perfectly good bed in which a perfectly beautiful woman was sleeping just so you could ask me for relationship advice?" he asked calmly.
It was a wholly rational question the Question was asking – rational and accurate. The exact reason Bruce felt the humiliation creeping up his skin. There weren't many people who could reduce the Batman to complete mortification. Actually, there were about three. One was an elderly butler. One was an Amazon princess. And one was a paranoid conspiracy theorist.
"Yes."
Vic blinked a few times. "Oh. Ok. What's the riddle, then?"
And that was the exact reason he preferred being mortified by the paranoid conspiracy theorist. Vic never judged him.
Bruce rose from his chair and walked past the redhead toward the Batcomputer. "There a reason half your face is covered in black and blue?"
"Is that the riddle?" Vic joked.
"No. I'm just curious as to why you look like hell."
Vic let out an exasperated sigh as he wondered why people kept comparing him to the fiery depths of the Underworld. "I was quasi-forced into fighting Green Arrow."
"Those are Queen's knuckles carved into your cheekbone?" Bruce asked, typing something into the computer.
"Regrettably, yes. But my victory was carved into his ego."
The Bat gave a nod of approval. "You'll heal, he won't. Congratulations."
"Thanks." Vic watched patiently as Bruce maneuvered his way through cyberspace. "Are you tapping into the Watchtower surveillance records?"
"Confiscated footage."
"Oh, I like confiscated. Who confiscated it?"
"I did."
"Ah. Did anyone see it before you confiscated it?"
The momentary pause told him that was a yes. "Clark and Shayera," said Bruce, rather bitterly.
"But you're going to show it to me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Do you ever stop asking questions?"
Vic shrugged. "Questions are my modus operandi."
"It was rhetorical."
"I know."
"Showing you is easier than telling you."
"Hmm, interesting."
"Not really. Just watch, and please, for the love of god, hold all smart-ass comments until the end."
"Well, since you asked so nicely…"
Bruce clenched his jaw and forced himself to start the clip before he could change his mind. Showing really was easier than telling.
Once the alleged confiscated footage from the Watchtower surveillance records began to play, Vic realized he was not looking at the inside of the Watchtower, but the inside of a plane. It didn't resemble a Javelin, but it was too big to be the Batwing. The only other plane linked to the Watchtower was…Wonder Woman's invisible jet. The numbers at the bottom of the screen indicated the date and time. This was from the night before. And just as he was about to make a smart-ass comment regarding the setting of this confiscated footage, Vic heard a voice.
The next few minutes were characterized by complete silence, save for the voices coming from the computer. Bruce pretended to be invisible while Vic watched what was happening on the screen. He stopped the clip once the blood began cascading down Diana's arm and waited for a response.
When he didn't get one for quite some time, he grew irritated. "Well?"
"Why did you stop it?"
Irritated was now a bit of an understatement. "That was the end," he retorted harshly.
"Uh huh…" Vic prodded.
A very audible grunt came from the man in the chair before he reluctantly resumed play. Half a minute later, after the knight had retreated and the princess had begun to cry, the screen went to static.
"There. Satisfied?" shot Bruce.
"Indeed."
"And?"
"And it appears that you and Diana are making progress."
"You call that progress?"
"Yes. What would you call it?"
"I don't know," he grumbled, dropping his head into his heads. "A disaster?"
"Not necessarily."
"Why do you say that?" Bruce asked impatiently.
Vic cleared his throat, preparing to provide an explanation. "Well, she successfully provoked you into going after her and apologizing."
Bruce stared blankly. "So?"
"How often do you run after people, let alone apologize to them?"
"Never."
"Exactly. Progress."
"Fine."
"Then, of course, she rejected your apology, provoking you even further. And when she told you to leave, you didn't. Why?"
"I don't know," he replied curtly.
"Yes you do."
Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Because…I wanted to provoke her. I wanted…needed to see some kind of emotion, even if it was anger. Anything but that damn apathy."
"She's been dealing with your apathy for years. You couldn't handle hers for five minutes."
"My apathy was for her protection!"
"Protection from what? From you?"
"Yes! And…and the pain of losing someone you love."
"She's going to lose you, regardless."
"I know that, but…"
"But what? You don't think she'll be able to cope with your death if you let her love you?"
"You don't know what it's like!" Bruce snarled, rising from his chair. For the first time, there was enough light for Vic to see the large, stitched wounds on Bruce's neck. "You don't know what it's like to lose the only two people in the world that mattered to you! No one deserves to be put through that misery."
"But that isn't stopping you from making Diana miserable, is it?" asked Vic, calmly as ever.
"What the hell kind of question is that?"
"Obviously one you haven't considered."
"Quit the bullshit. What are you talking about?"
Vic sighed and stepped up to the Batcomputer. After rewinding the footage to where he wanted it, he let it play.
"So why won't you just put me out of my misery?" came Diana's voice. "Tell me, tell me you don't love me. Say it! SAY IT!"
Vic stopped it and turned back to Bruce, who was busy staring at the floor. "But your response…was no."
"That's different," he grumbled.
"It's the same!"
"It's for her own good!" Bruce yelled, making eye contact once again.
"That's not your decision to make."
"Why not!? If I can prevent her from having to go through the pain of my death, then I will. And if she doesn't have me, she can't lose me."
"Bruce, someone doesn't have to be dead for you to lose them. She is losing you now."
The defiant Bat made no response. But the human inside was threatening tears. Bruce blinked a few times to force them back.
"Perhaps you'll understand once you've lost the only person in the world that matters to you," Vic finished. Figuring this was an adequate time to depart and leave Bruce to brood, he turned and headed for the stairs.
"I'm…losing myself," came Bruce's voice from behind him. It was rough, almost a whisper.
Vic turned back. "Then let her help you," he said before starting up the stairs.
"Sage," Bruce called after him. "Are you happy with Helena?"
He smiled. "I've never been happier."
x.x.x
"I was starting to worry that Batman took you hostage!" called Helena when Vic arrived home.
"You'd level the mansion if he did," he laughed. He found her curled up on the couch in his living room. "Needless to say, it'd be a bad decision on his part."
"Really bad," she said, standing up to stretch. "So what kind of mumbo jumbo did the Riddler cook up this time?" she asked.
But she never received an answer. Before she had time to process anything, his lips were pressed against hers, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Helena coiled her own arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
When they broke apart several seconds later, Vic just stared at her, absorbing her beauty.
"Everything ok, baby doll?" she asked, placing her hand against his bruised cheek.
"I love you, Helena."
"I love you too, Vic," she said sweetly, claiming his lips for another long kiss.
Several, several seconds later they broke apart again. "Remember that time I caught you doing Tai Chi to Verdi?"
x.x.x
Yeah, I just can't resist when it comes to Question and Huntress. Thanks for reading!
