Author's Note: Enjoy!

Chapter Nine

Half an hour after figuring out Bruce's secret

Lyssandra had been pacing in her room for the past half hour. Her palms were damp with sweat, and she tried to breathe steadily. But one singular thought pulsed in her brain, refusing to leave.

Her father was the Batman.

The Batman.

He had been the one who showed up the night of her attack, who saved her, who got Walker and his friend arrested. Had he been fallowing her? She shook her head, trying to push off the thought. But his words from the day of Walker's threat floated back to her. How can I protect so any people, but not the person I love most?

Then something else struck her. Did his disappearance have to do with him becoming the Batman? It must've – she couldn't think of anything else. She sighed, and gazed out her window. It was completely dark now, but the front of the manor was brightly lit, and guests were arriving for her father's birthday. The news stream was still playing quietly behind her, but Lysa was no longer paying attention. The reporter was still talking about the chase, but the tank had had long since disappeared from the screen.

Yet again, she tried to clear her mind, with no avail, and smoothed down her dress. She didn't know if she was angry at her father for keeping this from her, or terrified about him putting himself in constant danger. What if someone else found out about this, like she had?

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the door of her room into the hall way. Soft chatter could be heard of the floor below as she made her way to the stairs. People filled the front parlor, though most were making their way into the large ballroom that hadn't been used since her grandparents were alive. The whole room had been empty, dusty and dreary. A reminder of what used to be. But tonight it was full of life and light, though she didn't know if Bruce saw it that way.

Lysa gripped the railing of the staircase, as if she would misstep and tumble down. Thankfully, her steps were careful and steady, and hopefully no one noticed the worry and anxiety in her expression.

Most of the guests were people Lysa didn't recognize, but there were a few from Wayne Enterprises. When she made her way through the crowd of people, some stopped to greet her and shake her hand. "Miss Wayne, how lovely to see you," a man she recognized from Wayne Enterprises said, stopping her in her tracks. "And you as well," she managed to smile sweetly despite her pounding heart, to which she was surprised no one else heard.

The crowd cleared near the entrance of the ballroom, and Lysa saw of a glimpse of Alfred talking with someone, presumably her father, around the corner of the hall. She took quiet steps towards them, trying to make her presence unknown to them. Did Alfred know Bruce was the Batman? He must – since he spent so much time with him since he came back. Their conversation became more audible as Lysa approached. People in catering uniforms passed her without a second glance.

"You're getting lost in this creature of yours," Alfred said, almost a whisper. Alfred knew. Of course he did. "I'm using this creature to help people like my father did-" Bruce started but Alfred interrupted. "For Thomas Wayne, helping others was never about not proving anything to anyone. Including himself."

"It's Rachel. She was dying," Bruce replied deeply. A pang of dread filled Lysa's body. Dying? What the hell had happened? Lysa recalled that her mother had hurried out to Arkham asylum, to visit Dr. Crane. Was he somehow involved in this? It was the most likely guess, though it was equally as likely to get mugged in the Narrows, especially at this time of night.

"She'd downstairs, sedated," Bruce informed Alfred, and Lysa took in a breath of relief. "I need you to take her home."

"We both care about Rachel, sir. But what you're doing has to be beyond that. It can't be personal. Or you're just a vigilante." There was a short silence before Bruce spoke again. "If Fox still here?" Lysa saw Alfred give a short nod. "We need to send these people away." Lysa's brow furrowed, but she kept listening.

"Those are Bruce Wayne's guests out there," Alfred said, exasperated. "You have a name to maintain-"

"I don't care about my name," Bruce replied.

"It's not just your name. It's your daughter's, your father's. And that's all that left of him. Don't destroy it." With that, Alfred left down the hall, disappearing from Lysa's view. Bruce sighed and shook his head, then made his way to the ballroom. Lysa tried to turn away and pretended that she'd not listened to the conversation, but Bruce caught up to her.

"How much did you hear?" he asked quietly. Lysa looked at her father and tried to read his expression. It was a mix of concern, anger and… fear. "Enough," she said simply. "I'm glad you're here," he said suddenly, catching her off guard. Lysa managed to smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Before Bruce could answer, they entered the ballroom and the guests started to sing Happy Birthday. Lysa smiled and joined in. Applause sounded, and soon after, Bruce got sucked into a conversation with Mr. Earle. She couldn't stand to be in the middle to the crowed and sticky room any longer, so she walked over to the corner, near the bar. A vibration in her dress pocket made her jump. God, she needed to calm down. She pulled her phone out, and saw a text from Alexa. Did you see the news? She asked. Lysa replied quickly. Yeah, Mason told me to put it on. Crazy, huh? She couldn't tell her friends about her father. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Lysa had a feeling that this was something Bruce didn't want to be spread around. What would happen to him if everyone found out?

Alexa replied within the minute. Totally. Even my parents had their eyes glued to the screen. What kind of person do you have to be to own a vehicle like that? Lysa knew. Her father.

No clue, Lysa replied. For once, she was glad they weren't talking face-to-face. Alexa would've been able to read though her lie without a second thought. Sorry, I have to go. Parents yelling at me for using phone at dinner, Alexa's next text came. Lysa couldn't help but giggle. Okay, she texted back. There was no reply.

Through the throngs of guests, Lysa managed to catch a glance at her father, who was talking to Mr. Fox across the room. Then their conversation ended abruptly, and Bruce faced another guest whom Lysa didn't recognize. Her brow furrowed when she saw her father's face pale, though he seemed to remain calm. Lysa started to make her way through the clumps of guest towards her father and the mysterious guest, keeping her eyes trained on them. But before she could get close enough to hear their conversation, Bruce grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing caterer and spoke to the room. "Everyone! Everyone!" He said. His words were slightly slurred. He couldn't actually be drunk. He had seemed perfectly alert when he was talking to that guest. "I want to thank you all… for drinking my booze," he continued. A low laugh filled the room.

"No really, the thing about being a Wayne is that you're never short of a few freeloaders to fill up your mansion. So here's to you people." An uncomfortable silence made its way through the room. Lysa crossed her arms and glared at her father. What was he doing? He had been perfectly fine before the party, if not a bit nervous. A few guests started to head for the doors. Bruce downed the champagne quickly. "I'm not finished. To all you false friends and pathetic suck-ups who smile through your teeth at me, you had your fill. Now leave me in peace! Out, everybody, out!"

Lysa let out a gasp. He had been fine, fine, five minutes ago. This was not her father, it couldn't be. She couldn't help but stare at her father in disgust, confusion. She was just starting to mend her relationship with Bruce again. But maybe… maybe someone was making him do this.

When people started shuffling out of the room, they whispered of him. "The apple falls far from the tree," she heard someone say. She let out a short breath of disappointment. He couldn't really be drunk, could he? He seemed fine five minutes ago. But maybe she was wrong.

After everyone was almost out, she approached Bruce and touched his arm. "Dad, what the hell wrong with you?" she asked firmly. His expression changed almost immediately. He looked concerned, angry and scared all at the same time. He placed both hands on her shoulders. "Lysa, you need to leave with the rest of these people, okay?" He said in a low voice. "Wait what? Why?" It was then she noticed that not everyone left. A few men were still in the room, staring at them. She gazed at him again with worry. "What's going on?"

"Lysa, please -" Bruce pleaded, but someone interrupted them. "Lyssandra Wayne, is it?" The voice said. It was soft, soothing, but Lyssandra couldn't shake a feeling of dread from her body. Lysa and her father turned to gaze at the man. He was middle-aged but seemed fit, and was well-dressed in a black suit. The feature that caught Lysa's attention was the man's long grey moustache. There was a silence between the three of them that felt like forever. Lysa didn't know what to say.

"Y-yes," she managed to get out, just as her father opened his mouth to interject. "I've heard much about you," the man replied, his expression unchanging. Suddenly she felt her father's hand curl around her arm, pulling her behind him. "Ra's, let her go, she has nothing to do with this," Bruce whispered harshly. The man, Ra's, only smiled slightly and started to pace in front of them.

"Your speech was amusing, but pointless. None of these people have long to live - your antics at the asylum forced my hand..." He said. Lysa felt his hand squeeze a little tighter and looked at her father in confusion. Who is this man? What happened when he was gone? "Crane was working for you," Bruce stated. What did Crane have to do with this? Her mind whirled, trying to make sense of it all. "His toxin is derived from the organic compound in our blue poppies. He was able to weaponize it," Ra's explained. "He's not a member of the League of Shadows," Bruce said. The League of Shadows? "Of course not. He thought our plan was to hold the city for ransom."

"But really you're going to unleash Crane's poison on the entire city."

"Then watch Gotham tear itself apart through fear," Ra's finished. Oh my God, Lysa thought. Everyone's going to kill each other. "You're going to destroy millions of lives," Bruce said, as if reading her thoughts. "Only a cynical man would call what these people have 'lives', Wayne," Ra's replied bitterly. He started to walk into the hallway. Before Bruce followed he turned to Lysa. "Find somewhere safe," he whispered. All she did was stare in confusion as the two men walked out into the fall, further and further from her. They were still talking, which worried her. Everything worried her. She knew she needed to find safety, but she couldn't look away.

When Lysa finally started to walk away, something caught her attention. The smell of gasoline wafted through the air, and then smoke. No, her eyes widened in alarm. She bolted back to the ballroom and hallway.

Flames were crawling up the curtains and walls to the ceiling. The whole room in flames. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She could make out her father and Ra's still talking. Bruce looked calm. How could he be calm? "Dad!" Lysa screamed, but started coughing due to the smoke. Her lungs felt as if they were being filled with cotton balls. She took her cardigan off and covered her mouth and nose with it. "Lysa!" She heard her father cry back. She started running towards him when one of Ra's's men held her back. Her cardigan flew out of her arms and was engulfed by the flames. She tried to squirm out of the man's grasp but to no avail. His grip was so tight that her hands started to feel numb. "Dad!" She cried again.

Suddenly a dark figure dropped behind Bruce, unsheathed a long sword and attacked him. As if without blinking, Bruce fought back, and the figure was easily defeated, but Ra's took out a sword and attacked him as well. Lysa breathed hard and coughed. Sweat formed on her forehead, and her muscles were wearing from the heat of the flames. She couldn't fight back against the man.

"I am going to stop you," Bruce hissed through his teeth. "You never did learn to mind your surroundings," Ra's said, as he pushed Bruce back. Everything seemed to happen to slow motion, blurred. A burning, wooden beam fell from the ceiling onto Bruce's chest, knocking him out. "Dad!" Lysa started to cry and pulled from the man's grip, but didn't move. Ra's approached Lysa. His fingers curled around her jaw and pulled her chin up. "Such a waste," he muttered. "Go to hell," she spat, pulling her face from his grip. The corner of his mouth curled into a smile. He looked at his men. "Leave her here," he told them. "The Wayne 'legacy' can die with both of them."

Lyssandra was suddenly pushed to the floor, her arms breaking her fall. Without thinking, she got up and ran to her father, not even bothering to check if Ra's and his men were gone. She tried to move the beam from his chest, but it was so heavy, and it was so hot. Lysa coughed loud and hard from all the smoke. There had to be something to cover her mouth. Her tights. Coughing, she slid them off and covered her nose and mouth. She tried to move it again when her phone slipped out of dress pocket. Thank God. Lysa speed dialled Alfred.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up," she muttered as she wiped her forehead. "Miss Wayne?" Alfred's voice came from the other end. "Alfred! Come home, quick. Dad's trapped under a beam and everything's on fire. God, everything's on fire!" She sobbed into the phone. "Don't worry, Miss Wayne, I'm just outside," Alfred said. "Okay," she breathed and hung up. She slipped the phone back into her pocket and looked at her father. She couldn't hold back tears as she held his hand. "Dad, don't die. You can't die. Wake up, Dad, wake up," she sobbed as she shook him. He couldn't leave her again, she wouldn't let him - not after he just got back. If felt as if she'd been by his side forever until Alfred showed up.

"My, God," he gasped at the sight. "Miss Wayne help me pull the beam off of him." Lysa nodded. They positioned themselves on either side of the beam. "On one, two, three!" Alfred said as they lifted the beam threw it behind them. Alfred then picked up Bruce and carried him on his back. Lysa smiled a bit. She didn't know Alfred was that strong. "Follow me," he said as he ran through the the burning rooms. If the flames were burning her, she didn't know. They came to the main part of the library and Alfred played a few keys on the grand piano. Lysa had no time to be confused as a part of the book opened, revealing a passage way. They bolted in to what look like a cave with metal scaffolding. Alfred lead her to a metal evelator and they quickly flew down deeper into the cave. Lysa held onto the the railing of the evelator as the hit the ground, hard.

Above her, flames engulfed the house, the beautiful house, her grandparents' house. She looked back at Alfred. "I think I'm going to have a headache for a week," she said, wiping her forehead. "It's better than being burned alive up there," Alfred countered. "That's true." Lysa looked around the cave, it looked like a secret lair, which was pretty much what it was. I knew it, she though, scoffing to her herself. Her father was the vigilante. Batman. "So this is what you and Dad have been doing with all your free time," she said. "Don't worry, I won't tell."

"I'm sure your father would appreciate it," Alfred told her. As if on cue, Bruce's eyes fluttered open. "Dad!" Lysa cried, pulling him into a hug. Bruce groaned in pain but returned her hug. "I thought you were dead, when that beam fell on you," she told him. "It's gonna take more than a beam to kill me," he countered, smiling weakly. "I know."

"Are you okay?" Bruce asked, becoming more alert. "I think," Lysa replied, looking at her arms and legs. "Just a little burned and in desperate need for water."

"Don't worry, Miss Wayne," Alfred reassured her. "We'll get you fixed up."

"I'm so sorry, Lysa. This is all my fault," Bruce winced. "Not it's not, dad. Stop saying that when it's not true," she replied.

Bruce sat back and gazed up at the burning manor. "What have I done? Everything my family, my father built..." His eyes were becoming shiny with tears. "The Wayne legacy is more than just bricks and mortar, sir," Alfred said. Lysa knew he was right, but she was raised there for the first ten years of her life. It was home, and it was hard to let go of. Almost impossible. "I thought I could help Gotham... But I failed," Bruce continued. "You can still help, Dad," Lysa said.

"Why do we fall?" Alfred asked. Both Lysa and Bruce gazed at Alfred, smiling. "So that we learn to pick ourselves up," he answered. "Still haven't given up on me?" Bruce asked.

Alfred smiled.

"Never."