Chapter Eleven

Wayne Manor – Late Night/Early Morning.

Vicki stepped past Bruce in the hall, looking up at him from the corner of her eye with caution as he turned and adjusted his longer stride to hers. In the softly lit library he asked in a low voice; "What kind of 'Op'?"

"We're breaking in to a suspected Bureau 39 facility in Mexico," she told him without hesitation, while he keyed in the code and slid open the door to the elevator. Only a matter of weeks ago she would immediately have asked why he wanted to know, but the very fact he was going to observe an active Op had to mean something, so a confrontational answer probably wasn't the best option to continue taking them in the right direction. That was one reason for her answer anyway. The other was a part of her was reluctant to break whatever spell had fallen over him with another confrontation. Not that she wasn't still suspicious...

Waiting for her to step inside before he joined her, he slid first the door and then the gate shut and pressed the large button to send them down into the cave, "When exactly did we find this suspected Bureau 39 facility?"

"Yesterday." She couldn't help it; stealing surreptitious glances at him from the corner of her eye as they descended. Looked like Bruce. Sounded like Bruce. But something was off. Then it hit her. 'We'. He was using the word 'we'. Since when were they a 'we'?

"And when were you planning on telling me?"

Turning ninety degrees and lifting her chin so she could look at him without trying to pretend she wasn't, Vicki was unable to resist the answer she'd heard thrown at her so many times before, "I wasn't aware I had to report to you."

Bruce smiled down at her when she blinked innocently at him. The sight made her hesitate. It took a moment for it to sink in, so she checked again just to sure. Yep, definitely smiling. No sarcastic comeback, not even an unreadable mask. What was going on? It was freaking her out a little. And it wasn't just that he was acting weird and smiling at her. It was how that smile changed him when it made it all the way up into his dark eyes; transforming him into someone she'd never met before. At least she didn't think she had. And she was pretty darn sure she'd have remembered. Vicki searched her memory for a similar smile just to be sure, trying to match it up with whatever persona he'd seamlessly slipped into. But she had nothing. Nada. If she didn't know better she would say the smile was... genuine...

But that wasn't the most unsettling thing. The worst of it was it was the kind of smile that could knock a girl on her ear if she didn't know who she was dealing with. Dirty pool, Bruce Wayne. Very dirty pool. Her eyes narrowed in silent reprimand as she pivoted on her heel and focussed her gaze forwards at the combination of rough rock and wooden support beams as they passed by; trying to kid herself the mental picture of that smile wasn't ingrained on her frontal lobe for all eternity. Or that she would think about it every time he gave her one of the false smiles more familiar to her and her knowledge of it would make her miss the presence of the real thing. This wasn't anywhere in the remotest region of what she'd been expecting when she next saw him. Unless she was very much mistaken he'd left unhappy with the decision to let Lois come to the house. Vicki had been ready to entrench herself for the long haul again; had mentally prepared herself for the battle ahead and was ready to nice him to death until she found the tiniest chink in his armor and could use it to wriggle her way in and show him he didn't have to keep her at arms length. Strength in numbers. United we stand. The kinds of things she'd been aiming to show him from the start. Or at least since he'd known she was Watchtower.

She most certainly hadn't been prepared for what might be a little glimpse of a Bruce Wayne hidden from the rest of the world. Possibly even the Bruce that Alfred knew. But how would she know if it was? She had nothing to use as a comparison. Blinking and shaking her head the tiniest amount when she realized how much she was over-analysing a smile, she risked another a sideways glance and discovered the smile had gone from his mouth. Ridiculously she was disappointed it wasn't there any more. Then her gaze travelled upwards and she discovered it was still glittering in the dark depths of his eyes. Now wait just a darn minute. Was he laughing at her? He better not be! Because if he was laughing at her then he was messing with her on purpose. Her eyes narrowed again. She couldn't have him sitting beside her on the platform watching her every move during an active Op if he was going to behave like this. Was that what he was trying to do? Distract her to get her to mess up so he could prove how inefficient the League was at getting the job done? If that's what he was doing, he'd picked the wrong girl for that game.

Halfway across the cave she informed him; "Silent spectator makes the coffee. Emphasis on the word 'silent'."

"I'd comment on that but I'm fairly sure I've just been told to shut up."

"And yet... I can still hear you." She smiled sweetly, determined not to have her previous good mood ruined by his Machiavellian tactics.

By the time a steaming mug of coffee was placed on the counter in front of her, she had all of her screens online and was checking the longitude and latitude of the satellites. He was rolling his chair closer to hers when the female computer voice Oliver had dubbed 'The Oracle', sounded for the first time.

'Impulse online.'

Bart's cheery voice echoed off the cave walls; "Heeeyyyy beautiful! And if I may say so you're looking particularly delicious in that little number you're wearing tonight. Is that silk I can hear? Tell me it's silk."

A brief glance at Bruce from the corner of her eye saw him pause halfway into lowering himself onto his chair, his gaze shifting to the screens, then to Vicki. He cocked a brow at her as he sat down, and he didn't need to say a word to get the message across. His face said it all. So much for demonstrating the Justice League's professionalism. Vicki sighed inwardly as she reached up to her ear and turned on the Com.

"You're early." She admonished. Though in fairness it could happen more often and most of the team would be fine with that. Bart had a tendency to wait till the last possible moment to show up for anything. A luxury super-speed allowed him, but one that still bugged those who had worked the longest with him and had to travel to their destination by more traditional – and much slower - means.

"Just taking a jog around the perimeter."

"Anything changed?"

"Nada on that one, mi amor. So what's new with you?"

"Satellite feeds. And you're not helping me concentrate right now."

"I could come help in person – with a lot of things - and still be back here with time to spare..." He said without missing a beat.

Vicki couldn't help but smile at the familiar to-and-fro, "And I keep telling you, there are certain times a woman doesn't appreciate speed."

"Ouch!" He replied, "Gets me in the male pride every time."

Turning her chair, she glared briefly at what looked like another glint of amusement in Bruce's eyes while reaching past him for her Ipod, "I'm gonna need a few minutes to run some checks. Let me know if anything changes there."

"You got it, Señorita. Just gonna skip over and get a burrito while I wait for the lesser men among us to catch up with me."

Feeling guilty for the use of the cool professional tone she normally didn't use when speaking to him, Vicki smiled and teased him in reply, "Just the one? You on a diet?"

"Ah, Watchtower... you know me so well...Impulse out."

Bruce lifted his mug to his mouth, the rumbling tone of his deep voice dry, "As a member of the general public I feel a lot safer in the League's hands right now."

"I can hear talking."

"Op hasn't started yet." He pointed out over the rim of the mug, "Apparently we're on a burrito break."

While he took a sip of coffee, Vicki squared her shoulders and silently reminded herself to focus on what she was doing instead of worrying how Bruce perceived her team. They'd worked together for a long time and were familiar with the differing personalities that meshed (sometimes unexpectedly), clashed (unsurprisingly) but ultimately had the qualities required to do what others couldn't while while working within the remit of the law. It didn't matter if it was Knight or Lantern or Wonder, or to a lesser extent Blue, who was listening in or joining an Op for the first time, she told herself, they would all have the same obstacles to overcome when it came to finding their place in the rhythm that had taken time to perfect.

"You might need to move your chair back a little." Vicki informed him a few minutes later, "I tend to move around. And I'm not used to having to warn someone before I do."

Bruce didn't reply. He simply pushed on his large feet and rolled back to make room; the movement displacing the air enough to leave a feint scent of soap and... shower gel? Vicki glanced at him for the umpteenth time. The tips of his dark hair were wet. Just how long had he been back? She knew he kept a stock of spare clothes in the cave. Was there a shower down here somewhere too? It would make sense she supposed. If, for any reason he couldn't appear upstairs without looking like he hadn't been in a bust up as Batman, he would need a way to change from one persona to the other. But then considering her recent education when it came to the number of secret passageways in the mansion, maybe there was more than one way for him to get from the cave to the first floor...

Pressing her lips into a thin line she reminded herself she was supposed to be concentrating on the Op. Not wondering where Bruce had taken his shower or noticing how great he smelled. She rolled her chair along the desk and tapped into the local police bands, then double checked the computer programmes were good to go before the satellite feeds went live.

'Arrow online.'

"Tapped into the phone lines, Watchtower. They're all yours. Moving Uptown to rendezvous point."

"Roger that." She brought the feed up on another terminal, then glanced over her shoulder to where Bruce was watching and felt the need to break the silence with an explanation of what they were doing, "We break the area into zones. In this case Uptown and Downtown."

"Two different targets."

"One primary. We want to get to their mainframe to see if it's linked to any other facilities they have. That way we can save ourselves some time."

When she glanced at him again, his gaze had shifted to one of the monitors where a satellite feed was playing, "The green dot?"

"Ours. The Com's they use have a frequency the satellites can pick up once they sign in."

Okay. Almost there. Her gaze shifted to the time-stamp in the corner of the screen as she plugged her Ipod into her terminal and grabbed a quick mouthful of coffee. She circled her neck to the left and right to loosen up as she watched the time ticking down.

'Cyborg online.'

'Impulse online'

And now there were three green dots, "Arrow in position. How's the perimeter look Downtown?"

Bart's voice answered, "All clear. Patrol should pass you any second."

Vicki glanced at the infra-red satellite feed again, "Two on board. Twelve inside target area. Three in central control."

"Same movement pattern as last night?" Oliver asked.

"Affirmative."

His voice lowered to a stage whisper, "Patrol approaching Uptown."

The Com's went silent as Vicki set her mug out of the way so she wouldn't knock it over, and they waited for the Jeep to move past and head into the base.

"T-minus-eight." She looked over her shoulder again to inform Bruce, "Once the patrol is inside the control room for their break, we go."

Bruce nodded again; his gaze still locked on the monitors. They'd obviously done some kind of reconnaissance on the target. When was the obvious question, but short of spending twenty-four hours a day in Vicki's company he doubted he would ever know what she'd been doing unless she decided to tell him. And that was before he took in to consideration the fact she wasn't working alone. Did they all report their movements to her or did they work independently until such time as they were needed to band together for something like this? It would make sense. Was a point in their favour as far as Bruce was concerned. If he wasn't expected to report his movements every second of every day and it was just a case of collating information into some kind of central database, with his presence as Batman only required when absolutely necessary, it would make a coalition with them somewhat easier to bear. It was certainly what had been sold to him by Kent at the beginning. He'd had his doubts since. But as Alfred would say, the proof of the pudding... and if his decision to stick by Vicki's side meant that he had that proof, well, it was simply an example of two birds, one stone. It made Bruce feel better about the fact spending so much time in close proximity to her was bound to exacerbate his awareness of her as more than Watchtower. He needed to focus on that. She was Watchtower. She was the Justice League's co-ordinator. All he was doing was learning what that meant first-hand while she was under his protection. It was the perfect opportunity. Not to mention a way to make conversation without actually having to say anything that wasn't relevant in professional terms. Even if he'd been told not to speak...

She turned and looked at him again, "Oh. And by the way? Your sound system down here? It sucked. I had to tweak it some."

"What sound system?"

"Exactly," she grinned.

Bruce opened his mouth, but was forced to close it again when another voice sounded.

"Cyborg in position."

"Impulse ready to rock and roll..."

Vicki's voice remained calm despite the over-exuberant enthusiasm in the last voice, "Two minutes."

Something on one of the screens caught Bruce's attention, "What's that?"

She glanced at him long enough to confirm where he was looking, "A calling card. And I really need you to be quiet now. There's a quiz at the end..." Her voice changed from calm to teasing to professional in the space of a heartbeat, "One minute."

Two red, blurry figures moved inside the building on the satellite display. Down a hallway. Into a room where three more figures were stationary. The aforementioned control room, Bruce surmised.

"Mark time. In three, two, one – set."

"Arrow set."

"Cyborg set."

"Impulse set."

The atmosphere in the cave changed as Vicki sat a little taller in her chair, "All right gentlemen. Tonight we'll be breaking into this more than likely highly illegal, super-secret Government facility to a backing track of Supermassive Black Hole by Muse."

A sound system Bruce hadn't known existed, kicked in; a heavy guitar beat bouncing off the cave walls as she spoke in a firmer voice; "Isolating the feed from the power grid."

The green dots started to move.

"Accessing perimeter alarm." Said the voice Bruce recognized as Cyborg. Of the three his communication had been more matter-of-fact, saying only what he needed to over the Com and nothing more. Personally Bruce preferred that. He understood Queen's need to assess the situation as the leader of the team on the ground as Arrow, but he found the majority of comments from Impulse to be both unnecessary and a risk that didn't need to be taken considering someone might be listening in and their position could be revealed while he discussed burritos and whatever Vicki was wearing.

As the music continued to fill the cave, Bruce fought the need to move closer so he could see Vicki's expression as she worked, instead leaning forward in his chair – his gaze flickering from screen to screen – until he was glad he hadn't moved when she pushed against the desk and rolled rapidly across the floor to another terminal, "Bringing up remote visuals."

Three of the screens changed to night vision images from the perspectives of those on the ground. Arrow lifted a gloved hand and waved at the person in front of him; who appeared to have a wire jacked into the skin of his arm from a box on the perimeter fence.

"Perimeter alarm neutralized." He said as he looked back at Queen.

Queen turned towards the fence and began cutting a hole as he spoke, "Impulse, you're up."

"On it." A green dot was inside the building in the blink of an eye, his perspective moving too fast for Bruce to see what he was doing until he stopped and slid a bar through the handles of a door, "All tucked up in the control room. Moving to secondary target."

Arrow and Cyborg were running across the compound as Vicki spoke, "Three minutes. Cutting exterior power feed." There was a brief pause then, "They're on the backup generator... now." Her head turned sharply, allowing Bruce a brief glimpse of her profile as something caught her attention, "Congratulations boys, you just tripped a silent alarm."

Arrow replied with, "Can you intercept?"

"Switching to silent running."

The music died as she changed headsets and answered what Bruce assumed was an incoming call. She did it in fluent Spanish, explaining to the person calling from the local police station that they were having a problem with an alarm system and it was nothing to worry about, then apologizing for the inconvenience. She hung up, placed an outgoing call to the facility they were breaking into and told them in the same flawless Spanish that she was from the local police station, before asking if they required assistance. Once she'd promised to send the nearest available units, she hung up and switched headphones again. The music volume went back up as she informed the team, "Three minutes thirty-five seconds."

Bruce's gaze moved from the satellite feed of the building where three red figures were moving on a path to intercept the two green dots, to the screen where - from Arrow's point of view - he could see a small hand-held crossbow being raised before Vicki told him,

"Arrow. Three bogeys approaching 11 o'clock." She looked back at satellite feed at the same time as Bruce, "Impulse. Four on your six."

"Want me to take down yours too, Arrow?"

"How about you do your job and let me do mine." He crouched into position and raised the crossbow, "Cyborg, go for the pay-load, we'll take care of the natives."

The man took off at speed, his green dot not moving as fast as Impulse's, but impressive nonetheless; leaving Bruce wondering if their sprinting abilities were natural or enhanced. Certainly his ability to jack directly into the security system, physically, wasn't something he could do without some kind of assistance. Bruce stored the questions away in his mind while he continued watching.

"Three minute mark, in three, two, one. Mark." Vicki's voice said calmly.

There was a flurry of movement on two out of the three screens playing live feeds. Small arrows were fired from the crossbow and then Queen ran forward to check his target's pulses while the other screen stilled long enough for Impulse to do with the same check with the men he'd left unconscious.

Cyborg slowed down in front of a steel door. He began typing a series of four digit numeric codes into a keypad at incredible speeds; "Running code permutations."

"One guard still on the gate." Vicki checked the satellite feed, "One in the corridor to the west of Cyborg. Looks like they're trying to break free from central control."

"I got the one in the corridor." Arrow said.

"I'm in." Cyborg told them as he swung open the door and headed straight for a large bank of computer screens, "Accessing pay-load."

When he bowed his head, Bruce saw him jack directly into his arm the same way he had with the perimeter fence. How was he doing that? He then looked up as information fed across all of the screens simultaneously at a speed too fast to read, for the vast majority of people... but apparently not Cyborg...

Because he then said, "Nothing unusual so far. Wait. That might be something."

Arrow was running when he answered, "We'll look closer later. Take everything and drop the calling card."

"Affirmative."

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me!" Impulse's voice said, drawing both Bruce and Vicki's attention to his screen as he looked around the room he'd entered, "Quick look around the store-room you said."

"Problem?" Arrow asked as he fired the crossbow at the security guard approaching him.

"Two minutes twenty," Vicki said in the same calm tone she'd used throughout, "The store-room is floor to ceiling with numbered crates. We'll need to prioritize. Serial numbers might match to computer records. There isn't time to look into all of them."

"Says who?" Impulse replied, "You'll just have to slow down the playback some."

Bruce's gaze shifted to the satellite feed screens and the one that had remained static throughout. Until now. He pushed to his feet and stepped up behind Vicki, setting a hand on her shoulder and feeling her jump in reaction as he pointed at the screen, "You've got company."

She tapped a couple of keys and zoomed in, then again, and again, until they could clearly see the approaching Jeep – most likely local militia of some kind - as it began to swerve from one side of the narrow, dusty track to the other. Bruce removed his hand from Vicki's shoulder and took a step back in case she needed to move again; her warmth still tingling in his palm. Another zoom in and it was plain the men inside where trying to cover their ears while the driver tried to control the Jeep. The windscreen shattered. They veered off the road and hit a sand bank. Then two of the men who stumbled free of the wreckage hit the ground. Bruce frowned. What -

'Canary online.'

"Secondary perimeter clear." Said a woman's voice. "You girls planning on having a sleep-over in there?"

A fourth green dot appeared on the periphery of the screen focussed on the building as Cyborg said; "Download complete. Ready to upload calling card."

Vicki aimed a small, soft smile at Bruce for his assistance. Not that it had been needed. Then she rolled her chair along the desk, "Connecting."

"Signal received."

"Sending." She tapped rapidly on the keys and a small, dancing devil appeared below Cyborg's visual feed with a bar that indicated an upload was in progress. Then she rolled back along the desk again, "Two minute mark in three, two, one. Mark"

Impulse's visual was moving too fast for Bruce to decipher, but he could see clearly what Arrow's gloved hand was doing. He was laying charges of some kind. They were planning on blowing up the building? Bruce frowned. What about the people inside? If people were killed on their Op then it amounted to terrorism, no matter how noble the cause. He couldn't remain silent.

"Are those explosives?"

Vicki's voice was cool after she reached a hand to her ear, "The equivalent of smoke grenades. It's in case we need a diversion." She pointed at the screen, "They've been working on the door in the control room. They might get it open before we're done."

"And the calling card?"

She looked over her shoulder again, "We adapted your tracking program. It's gonna go walkabout in their system for the next five days if they try to link to somewhere else."

The way her chin lifted told him she was ready to be challenged on the subject. And possibly that she was a little disappointed he'd thought they were going to blow up the building when there were people inside. But before he could make a comment on either subject, she'd reached her hand to her ear again and her attention returned to the screens, "Calling card at fifty percent. One minute to evac window for primary extraction."

"Exit path ready." Arrow reported as he placed another charge against a beam, "Impulse. How we doing?"

Impulse stopped moving long enough to answer, "Little under halfway."

"You got less than a minute."

He was moving again when the woman's voice sounded, "Make it snappy girls. They're radioing for a status report from our friends in the secondary perimeter. I heard the word 'helicóptero' mentioned."

"So much for the computer software company sign on the gate." Arrow responded dryly.

"Calling card at seventy percent." Vicki said, "One minute thirty seconds. Forty-five seconds to primary evac window."

"ETA on the helicóptero?"

Vicki rolled her chair across the desk, "Calling card at eighty percent. Widening horizon of the eyes from above."

The satellite that had zoomed in on the approaching Jeep before Canary intercepted it, zoomed back out and began to cover a wider area. It didn't take long for it to pick up the incoming blip of the helicopter. Vicki widened the area again, zeroed in on an area further behind, and then zoomed in several times to pick up a convoy of Jeeps and what looked like an ATV. Whatever was in the building was obviously worth enough to merit a local branch of the army to protect it. As Arrow had said; it obviously wasn't a computer software company.

Bruce glanced down at Vicki's profile as she studied the movement, her eyes sparkling with the reflection of varying lights from the screens, "Air support incoming. It's gonna be tight. They're bringing friends on the ground."

She rolled her chair back along the desk, "Calling card at ninety three percent. Thirty-five seconds to primary evac window."

Arrow stood still for a moment, "Canary fall back to primary. Impulse thirty seconds. Cyborg, cut and run on Watchtower's mark."

"On the move." The woman's voice said.

Impulse's feed - impossibly - seemed to be speeding up.

The heavy guitar beat in the cave sounded louder to Bruce, but he suspected it had more to do with his awareness of the countdown and rising danger. It was an occupational hazard. His senses more alert when the stakes were higher. Standing behind Vicki he was even more aware of her every move. How she was following everything that was happening with the almost imperceptible movement of her head as she looked at each of the screens at odds with how fast her fine boned fingers would move over the keys, or how swiftly she would move from one keyboard to the other.

"Calling card at ninety eight percent. Ninety nine." The wheels of her chair rolled across the smooth floor, "One hundred... And we're offline."

"Logging off." Cyborg was on the move. All of the green dots moving in a southerly direction. Bar one.

"Eighteen seconds to primary evac window." Vicki's chair moved again as she continued, "One minute mark in three, two, one. Mark"

One green dot was clear of the building, another gaining rapidly. The third still hadn't moved according to the satellite feed.

"Ten seconds to primary evac window."

Bruce's gaze flickered from screen to screen while he noted where each member of the team was and the progress they were making to an unknown pick-up point in relation to the progress the helicopter was making to their location. Vicki was right. It was going to be close. Then another blip caught his attention. Closing in on them a lot faster...

Vicki's head turned as she saw the same thing, "Charon incoming."

Charon: The mythical boatman who rowed damned souls across the river Styx to Hell. Only in this case it was the reverse trip, wasn't it?

"Six seconds to primary evac window. Five, four, three -"

"Impulse. Move!" Arrow commanded on the run.

"Two, one..." Vicki glanced at the screen long enough to see the third green dot disappear from the screen and reappear ahead of the others, "All clear. Forty seconds to extraction."

She hit another key, "Watchtower to Charon. Rendezvous at primary extraction point. Suggest Westerly departure. Incoming chopper from North East."

"Roger, Watchtower. Extraction at primary."

"Take your time folks. I'll just do the crossword till you get here." Said Impulse's irritatingly cheery voice from his stationary position. Presumably the extraction point. Bruce could only imagine how annoying that was for everyone else running to catch up with him. Especially when he'd literally waited until the last second to leave the building.

"Or you could just run home." The woman answered.

"Twenty bucks says I get there first."

A smile sounded in Vicki's voice at what Bruce took to be a familiar back-and-forth, "Twenty-five seconds to extraction. Running radar interference."

The three green dots closed in on the fourths position as Charon raced to get to them before the other chopper cleared the building.

"Our friends are close enough to see the laser signal. Charon – your call." Arrow said as the dots converged.

Vicki interrupted with; "Twenty seconds."

Charon's thickly accented voice sounded, "We should be right on top of you. Downward crossover. No touch down."

"Roger that, Charon." Arrow answered, "Spread out gang."

Bruce watched through the varying point of views as they spread out around the landing zone and Vicki sounded off, "Seventeen seconds."

Each of the team produced a pencil thin laser and aimed them at the ground so the beams met in a single point in the center of the flat area.

Charon's voice: "We have visual confirmation."

The man was obviously good at his job. When Arrow lifted his chin to look upwards, the green outline of the chopper in his night vision was barely visible in the night sky, but it was coming in fast. Nose lifting and tail dipping as it rapidly reduced speed and lowered to a point where they could climb on board. Without the chopper touching down.

"Twelve seconds." Vicki informed them.

"Lasers off." Arrow ordered as the chopper levelled off, "Thirty feet Charon. Twenty-five."

"Ten seconds. Nine. Eight -"

"Fifteen feet."

"Seven. Six. Five."

"Ten feet."

"Four. Three. Two."

Arrow and the others ran forwards and climbed inside.

"Extraction complete, Watchtower." Charon said as the team's visual feeds died, "Departing Westerly."

"Roger, Charon." Vicki checked the satellite feeds as the music stopped and her voice became the only noise in the cave, "Bogey hasn't altered course. We're clear."

"You have the video feed from Impulse?" Arrow asked.

"I do." She began shutting down screens.

"We'll deliver the rest of the package first thing."

Vicki nodded, "I look forward to it. Safe journey. Watchtower out."

When all the screens were dark, she swung her chair around and looked up at Bruce, folding her arms across her breasts and angling her chin as she lifted a brow. She knew he had questions. But judging by the small smile on her lips and how much of it she was holding back judging by the sparkling light in the green of her eyes, she knew he'd seen enough to know they could run a tight operation when they chose to; needless bantering aside.

Bruce simply took a deep breath and said, "I'm hungry. You hungry?"

She blinked in surprise, "That's it? No questions."

"Oh, I think we both know I have questions." He stepped forwards, cupped her elbows in his large hands and gently eased her out of her chair; releasing her the second she was upright, "I just choose to ask them while eating."

Taking a step back, he moved to one side to allow her to step past, her sideways glance immediately curling his mouth into a similar small smile to the one she'd so recently worn. He was just as aware of every time she stole one of those sideways glances at him as they walked through the cave to the elevator as he had been on the way down to the cave.

They were in the elevator when she spoke again, "Nice try by the way."

Bruce slid the gate shut and reached for the button, "Nice try at what?"

"Distracting me."

"Is that what I was trying to do?" As the elevator lurched upwards, he turned around and leaned against the metal cage, his gaze fixed on hers.

"Oh," she smiled sweetly, "I think we both know that's what you were doing."

When she folded her arms again, Bruce mirrored her stance, "And what exactly was I doing to distract you?"

"It didn't work." She informed him with a lift of her chin.

"Maybe if you told me what it was I was supposedly doing, I could tell you whether or not I was successful at it."

Pressing her lips together, she glared at him for a moment, looked away from his steady gaze, and then took a deep breath that lifted her small breasts against her folded arms before she looked at him again, "You thought if you distracted me by being there you could get me to make a mistake. That way you'd prove some kind of point about the League being incapable of-"

"My plan was distract you simply by being there?" Bruce continued staring into her eyes, "That wasn't much of a plan. Wouldn't I have put more effort into it if I was determined to prove a point?"

Vicki's mouth opened, then closed again. She frowned, "If you weren't trying to distract me, then what were you doing?"

"I thought I was observing an Op." As they jerked to a halt, he pulled back the gate, slid open the door and stood back to allow her to step through ahead of him; waiting until she was beside him before he lowered his head and added, "I had no idea you found my presence so distracting."

She stepped through into the library, then turned on him with a firm, "I don't."

Bruce turned his back to her as he closed the gate and door, "And yet you thought, I thought, that's all it would take to stop you from doing your job."

"It didn't."

Turning, he walked past her, "It was a smooth operation. A little too talkative at times, but you got the job done. So much for my dastardly plan."

Her heels sounded on the wooden floor behind him as he headed for the kitchen, "You didn't think we were capable of pulling off an Op like that."

"I would assume you're capable enough if you've done similar Op's in the past. Which I've been led to believe you have..."

Her footsteps sped up so she could keep up with him in the hall, "How many Op's we've done in the past has nothing to do with it. You've never seen us in action before and you're hardly a cheerleader for the League. So you went down there with the belief we're some kind of Mickey Mouse operation incapable of doing things to the same high standard as Batman."

"Did I?"

Something closely resembling a low growl emanated from behind his back as he reached out and switched on the lights in the kitchen and headed for the refrigerator.

"You thought we were a joke from the beginning."

"And yet I agreed to work with you for a trial period."

"Until you could see whether or not we reached your exacting standards. You didn't think we could. And 'work with us' is a bit of a stretch. You've been observing us from the get-go."

Bruce opened the refrigerator door and leaned down to look inside, cool air whispering over his face, "Well, since you can apparently read my mind, you can tell me what I'm thinking right now; omelet or grilled cheese?"

The question was met with silence.

Standing tall, he looked at her still figure while keeping his arm hidden. He lifted a brow, "Do you have a preference?"

"I'm not hungry." She frowned for a second, then took a short breath and added, "Thanks."

Setting eggs and a block of butter on the counter beside the large stove, Bruce opened a cupboard and removed a shallow pan, another cupboard higher up for salt and pepper, another for a deep sided bowl and a drawer for the utensils he needed – all of which he could have done with his eyes closed. Cracking eggs into the bowl one handed, he turned on the heat and allowed a knob of butter to melt in the pan. He could have done that with his eyes closed too. Darkness was familiar territory. It was only Vicki's presence that made him turn on the light.

The room remained silent, apart from his movements, but as always he was aware of the presence of another person close by. He could almost feel her uncertainty. If she wasn't hungry, the reason she was still standing there had to be her curiosity about the questions he had. She didn't have to continue standing, yet she hadn't sat down; Bruce wondered why. Then she appeared in his peripheral vision, turned, and leaned her back against the counter before telling him in a softer voice,

"I can never do that."

"Cook an omelet?"

"No. Crack eggs one handed. I always end up with shells in the bowl."

Bruce added salt and pepper and lightly beat the eggs with a fork, "There's a knack to it."

It went silent again while he tipped the eggs into the pan and pushed the edges toward the center as they cooked.

"Did Alfred teach you to cook?"

"Some of the basics, yes. The need to kill for food to survive I learned out of necessity."

"When did you need to kill for food to survive?"

Bruce rolled the pan a little on the burner, "The mountains of Bhutan were a little short on fast food outlets."

He frowned for a moment when he realized he'd said the words aloud. It was too late to take them back, and the investigator in Vicki jumped on them, "When were you in Bhutan?"

"A few years ago." He answered flatly.

"Ah, the missing years. I'd forgotten about those." She didn't wait for a response. Instead, she reached back, laid her palms flat on the counter, and hoisted herself up onto it, "I lied. I am hungry."

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, "You want anything in it?"

"I'll have what you're having." She smiled as she lifted the plate he'd set on the counter and held it out.

Folding the omelet into a neat parcel, he lifted the pan and allowed it to slide onto her plate before beginning the process a second time while Vicki lifted his fork and asked, "What was it like?"

"Bhutan?"

"Mmm-hmm..." She used the edge of the fork to cut a small piece off the end of the fluffy omelet while he cracked eggs into the bowl.

"Cold."

"And mountainous?" When he looked at her again she blinked innocently while popping the piece of omelet in her mouth. Her brows lifted for a second as she chewed.

"Good?"

She nodded as she swallowed, "Very good."

Lowering her chin, a loose strand of hair falling forwards and resting against her cheek, she focussed on cutting another small piece as Bruce poured the new batch of beaten eggs into the pan. Lifting a long arm, he reached past her ear to get another plate,

When he glanced at her again she was studying him with her head at an angle and curiosity sparkling in her eyes, "Where were you before you went sightseeing in the mountains?"

"Prison." He set the plate down.

"What did you do?"

While neatly folding the second omelet before sliding it onto his plate, Bruce took a second to think about the way she'd asked the question as if his time in prison was nothing out of the ordinary. Not that it was overly surprising she wasn't phased by it, but more from the point of view of the fact it was a reflection of how their lives weren't altogether dissimilar. Not that he thought she'd spent time in a Bhutanese prison, but she knew what it was to be imprisoned, didn't she? Maybe by telling her a little of the period in his life he never talked to anyone about, he could get her to tell him something in return. It would certainly save time. And since he had a sneaking suspicion she might have had something to do with helping the court transcripts of Witness Number 58874 remain more 'sealed' than usual...

"I was re-appropriating something that belonged to me." There'd been a certain irony to that at the time, considering the petty crimes he'd already committed in his quest to understand the criminal mind.

"You were arrested for stealing something that belonged to you?"

"They didn't know it belonged to me," he glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he pulled out the drawer to get another fork.

"How did you know it did?"

"My name was on the boxes."

"As in Wayne Enterprises?"

He aimed a small smile at her in reply. When he turned towards the table, she wriggled off the counter and joined him, sitting on a chair facing his as he stepped back to the cupboards for two glasses and returned with a carton of milk.

"How did you know the people who had the boxes hadn't paid for them?"

"I didn't." He slid a glass towards her as he sat down.

Her eyes narrowed in thought, "You didn't want them to know who you were..."

It was an appropriate way of putting it. Who he was. Past tense. At that point he hadn't known who he was. All he'd known was he couldn't do what he wanted to do as Bruce Wayne. So he'd ceased to be Bruce Wayne. Made a conscious decision to disappear so he could be reborn as something else. Bruce Wayne the billionaire had become a mask. A way of hiding in plain sight. The same way Vicki Vale did.

Cutting an edge off the omelet, he placed it in his mouth and chewed as he watched her watching him. There were more questions. He could see them in her eyes. So he waited...

Long lashes flickered as her gaze searched each of his eyes in turn, then she took a short breath and asked in a low voice, "Why are you telling me this?"

"You asked."

"Never did me any good before." She pointed out. Her mouth curling into a smile that softened the green of her eyes. Then she angled her head again, "I get it. You have questions. Questions that have nothing to do with the Op. And you figured if you volunteered some information, I'd be more likely to answer them. Right?"

Bruce continued chewing.

So she took another breath, "Okay. Shoot."

"What will I find in the court transcripts for Witness Number 58874?" he didn't try to pretend he wouldn't be able to get his hands on the transcripts. They both knew he would. Even if it took time and more effort than usual.

Vicki's chin lowered, her fork set quietly on the plate beside her half eaten omelet before she pushed it to one side, as if the question had caused a sudden loss of appetite, "You know what he was prosecuted for."

"Yes."

"And you've read everything in the public domain," her fingertips brushed an imaginary fleck of dirt from the wooden surface of the table in front of her; her head still bowed as she watched the movement.

"Yes."

She nodded, "Then I'd say you already have a fair idea of what you'll find in the transcripts."

Bruce's gaze lowered from the sheen of light on her hair to the movement of her fingertips before she slid her hand back and hid it beneath the edge of the table, "He experimented on you."

"Yes. But then it wasn't the first time he'd done that. It was just the first time I'd been aware it was him while it happened..."

"What did he do?"

Her gaze lifted sharply when his tone was terse, her gaze searching his before an impossibly gentle smile curled her lips, "Not what you're thinking right now."

The words were said in a tone that matched the softness in her eyes, her smile remaining when he frowned and focussed his attention on slicing another edge off his omelet. When he didn't say anything in response, she took a deeper breath, "It started with the usual blood tests, examination of my DNA – they took swabs and skin samples. I had several physicals. Then... tolerance tests..."

Bruce glanced up as she added; "Some of those were fun."

Her gaze met his for a brief second, then flickered away to an invisible point over his left shoulder, "I guess it makes sense. If you know someone has the ability to heal, then you do tests to try and find out how they do it, how long it takes, how long it takes the subject to recover once they've done it." She shrugged her narrow shoulders, then lowered her chin as her hands lifted to smooth the wooden surface of the table again, "In some ways they helped me hone my ability. Practice makes perfect..."

Grinding his back teeth together at the mental images her emotionless words evoked in his mind, Bruce forced the question through his lips, "He hurt people in front of you so you could heal them, or he brought you people who were already hurt?"

"Both." She damped her lips with the tip of her tongue, "Not that he ever did it himself, you understand. But I think the fact he watched every experiment was a privilege reserved especially for me. I was a special case. The fact he knew me may have had something to do with it. The fact I was proving... problematic to clone... probably had more to do with it."

"Can you heal yourself?"

Vicki nodded, "I can now. I couldn't before."

"Did he help you hone that skill too?"

"Yes." Her gaze lifted.

Bruce knew everything he needed to know from the blank expression she wore. Just as Luthor had brought people to her, sometimes hurting them in front of her so she could heal them, he had purposefully had people hurt her, so he could discover if she was capable of healing herself.

"Did he kill you?" It took a lot to keep his voice calm.

She studied him for another long moment before asking, "Why do you need to know? I'm sitting here now, so what difference does it make?"

Good questions. Bruce thought about the answers. Apart from the fact it was obvious telling him wasn't something she was finding easy, or that he was well aware she was reliving what had happened the way anyone would when they were forced to look back on a difficult period of their life - the associated pain a scar carried inside where no-one could ever see it but never healed over to the extent where a jagged edge couldn't be re-opened – what could knowing about her past achieve? He could tell himself that understanding Luthor better would give him more information on how to deal with him, in the same way spending so many years away from Gotham had helped Bruce to understand the criminal mind better, and there would be an element of truth to that. But it was more than that. It also gave him a better understanding of the woman sitting across the table from him. Apparently he hungered for that knowledge. But admitting it to her?

Bruce shook his head, "It doesn't."

Vicki took another breath, her hands stilling on the table and retreating as she leaned back in her chair and rested her elbows on the wooden arms that curled out around her body. Then she surprised him with; "You've heard of Stockholm syndrome."

"Yes." He frowned. Surely she hadn't -?

"Lex is exactly the kind of man who can invoke Stockholm syndrome." Her gaze sought out the invisible point over Bruce's left shoulder, "There's no way you can ignore what's happening to you or around you when you're forced into his world. But with hindsight, you can't help but wonder how long it would have taken to discover what you're capable of without the impetus. We are who we are because of the things that happen to us and how we react to them."

"If you're able to heal yourself, you always had that the potential to do it," Bruce argued.

"Maybe. But there's something about physical pain that focusses your mind. Everything is sharper. Clearer." Her gaze slid across to meet his, "You of all people should understand that."

"I do. But I'd debate how invoking physical pain could cause a hostage to show loyalty to their torturer." Bruce continued to hold her gaze, "Unless they're one of those people who like to play with the pleasure/pain threshold for physical gratification."

Vicki exhaled a soft huff of laughter, "Yeah, that's not me."

"I didn't think it was."

In the distance a Grandfather clock chimed the hour, echoing through the cavernous space of the large house as Vicki continued to stare back at him, unflinching, while the words remained unspoken. She wouldn't ask him how he knew that, or tell him if his assumption about her was the same as hers would be about him. It was dangerous ground. The kind of conversation between consenting adults that crossed a line. Where one question would lead to another and the answers – if given – would echo in the same way the muted chimes of the clock had, adding to what was already entirely too much physical awareness from Bruce's perspective. He couldn't tell himself his senses were more alert because the stakes were higher. Not this time. Giving in to his physical awareness of her wasn't the same risk he took when he wore the mask and cowl, or the members of her team had taken on their Op...

"The end didn't justify the means." Bruce eventually said to break the silence.

"No." She answered in a whisper before lifting her chin a little, "But I understand why he was doing it. And why people follow his lead. How, even if they work for him, their loyalty isn't dissimilar to Stockholm syndrome. It's the same strategy evolved by newborn babies to form an emotional attachment to the nearest powerful adult in order to maximize the probability that the adult will, at the very least, enable its survival. Only Lex takes it a step further. He gives people a terrifying view of the world, taps into their worst fears and then persuades them that if they work with him, together they can save the world from annihilation. Their loyalty stems from fear."

"Is he right?"

"About the possibility of their worst fears being realized or saving the world if they work with him?" She blinked a couple of times as she asked the question in the same calm tone she'd used during the Op.

"Both." Bruce replied.

"Yes and no." The smile wasn't reflected in her eyes, "in that order."

"Their worst fear being?"

"That as a race we could be wiped out of existence."

From anyone else, the statement wouldn't have held as much weight. Instinctively Bruce knew she was simply stating the facts, because, "There have been times when that was a possibility. You've experienced them first hand."

"Yes."

"And?"

She smiled a more genuine smile, "we're still here."

"What stopped you from following the others into the realms of Stockholm syndrome?"

"And going over to the dark side?" Her eyes glittered with amusement for an all too brief second, "Why did you escape from prison?"

"I didn't." Bruce didn't hesitate in giving her a straight answer, as if he was aware they'd come too far and had already crossed an invisible line. He'd told her more than he'd ever told Rachel. But then Rachel had never asked, so it was probably a moot point, "I was given another option. I took it."

"Why?"

"Because I thought it would help me find what I was looking for."

"A better way of doing things?"

"I thought so at the time."

"Was it?"

"Eventually."

Vicki nodded, "I thought there was a better way of doing things too. That's why I wasn't seduced by his way of thinking. I'd already chosen my path, I just hadn't committed to it the way I needed to." She lifted a hand and set her forefinger against the edge of the table, lowering her chin to watch as she traced it with the tip of a glossy fingernail, "It might look like I was forced into it. But Lex did me a favor in the same way he did when he got me to focus on my ability." She shrugged, "It's true what people say: Sometimes we don't know what we're capable of until we're pushed. In the same way physical pain focussed my mind, being surrounded by darkness made it easier for me to see the light."

She lifted her lashes and aimed another small smile at him before rolling her eyes, "I know. Very Zen." Something else seemed to occur to her, "Actually, Alfred said something to me that was kinda apt too. He said things are seldom as bad as they seem when we're feeling low. It's what we do when the moment has passed that can make the difference. So while I wouldn't want to go back and relive the experience, and I'd do everything within my power to stop it from happening to anyone else, in some ways I have Lex to thank for who I am now. And what I can do."

Bruce understood what she was saying better than most. She wasn't suffering from Stockholm syndrome when it came to Luthor. She knew what he was and why he did the things he did, she understood why others would fall foul of the syndrome, but she knew his methods were wrong, that there was another way of doing things: One that wouldn't come at so high a cost. While he continued looking at her, Bruce couldn't help but think about the similarities and differences in the paths they had chosen. Where Luthor had forced her onto a path where she'd decided to band together with a group of others to fight people like him, Rhas Al Ghoul had led Bruce down a path where he could work with a group of others and instead Bruce had chosen to fight them and stand alone. The same battleground. Different strategies. But a common goal.

Vicki's gaze found his again, then she glanced down at their plates, "Are you finished with that?"

Bruce nodded, then watched as she gathered everything together before standing up and heading for the deep sink below the multi-paned windows that looked out on the moonlit gardens beyond. Pushing his chair back, he stepped over to the counter and cleared up his work area before joining her and handing her the last of the items in need of rinsing before they were stacked into the dishwasher. They worked in silence for as long as it took, Vicki rinsing before Bruce stacked; her gaze lifting to meet his on more than one occasion when their fingertips touched in the exchange. It was the kind of domestic scene Bruce rarely, if ever, participated in. As much because Alfred was so ultra-efficient in the running of the household as it was indicative of Bruce's absence while the work was being done. It was oddly calming, despite his awareness of Vicki; the way her fingers moved as she worked and her concentration on the task at hand no different to when she'd been working on the Op in terms of efficiency and - apparently - equally as fascinating to him. The way the water would run over the skin on the back of her hands. The movement of her hands naturally graceful, almost balletic at times. But most fascinating of all was how she would frequently lift one of those wet hands to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear; demonstrating a hint of vulnerability.

Her throat convulsed, Bruce's gaze lifting from the movement as she turned her head and looked up at him again; the last dish in her hand. He reached for it, purposefully brushing his fingertips against hers so he could see the reaction in her eyes. When they darkened a shade, he knew. He knew she was as aware of him as he was of her. Another realization followed: That was why she'd thought he planned to distract her during the Op simply by being there. She thought he knew how aware she was of him. He was far from naïve after all. But they'd been at odds so much of the time and he'd been so busy ignoring his physical awareness of her, that he hadn't stopped to think about what it would mean if she felt the same way and was fighting the same battle.

Sliding her fingers free, she turned her head, reaching for a dry cloth to wipe her hands before she stepped back, "I have a tonne of things to do in the morning. I think I'll head upstairs and catch a few hours sleep."

Bruce closed the dishwasher door, "There's a charity circus event tomorrow night. People will expect -"

"Me to go with you. Yes. I know." She waited for him to turn around and look at her, "Technically it's tonight. Not tomorrow night. But I appreciate being given so much notice."

When he searched for disapproval, he was surprised to find a glint of amusement in her eyes, "I told Alfred to get you a dress and whatever else you would need."

"I know."

Bruce walked to the door and waited for her to leave the room before he switched off the lights. When he followed her she was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs, "Go on then."

He stopped in front of her, "And do what?"

"Ask me to go to the circus with you."

"We're supposedly living together. People will expect -"

"You said. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't ask me if I want to go with you," the soft tone of her voice stopped the words from being confrontational. In fact, if anything, it felt like she was teasing him. As if she was enjoying the fact Alfred had ruined the 'surprise' and that she could use it to make Bruce feel uncomfortable. It was the wrong tactic to use on a man who spent a good portion of his time playing the role of billionaire playboy.

Taking a measured step forwards, he smiled in the dim light as she took a reciprocal step back and bumped into the carved newel post at the bottom of the balustrade. While she jumped in surprise, he closed the gap; reaching out to lay a hand on the post at one side of her neck and another on the railing beside her waist, so she was trapped.

He leaned his head closer to hers, "Vicki..."

Her chin lifted as she replied with a somewhat uncertain, "Yes?"

Lowering his voice, he turned on the legendary Bruce Wayne charm and said the words slowly; "I would really like it if you would accompany me to the circus tonight..."

"I know what you're doing," she told him. "This is Bruce Wayne the playboy at work, isn't it?"

"Is it?" Lifting his hand from the newel post, he turned it over, ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek and continued smiling when she took a sharp breath as he tucked the damp strand of disobedient hair behind her ear before returning his hand to its original position.

"I take it this usually works for you."

"I can put more effort into it if I need to." He let the warning hang in the air between them.

Vicki's answer was swift, "Believe me. No further effort required." His smile grew when she realized what she'd said, adding; "And by that I mean -"

"Yes, Bruce, I'd love to go to the circus with you." He stepped back and dropped his arms to his sides, "We need to leave here at seven thirty."

"Fine." She turned and headed up the stairs while Bruce watched her silhouette appear in the large windows on the landing where the staircase continued curving upwards to the first floor.

"Why do we fall?"

She hesitated, her head turning so she could look over her shoulder, "What?"

"It's the version of Alfred's advice I grew up with. Something similar to the advice he gave you." He repeated; "Why do we fall?"

Before he could supply the answer her voice carried down to him, "So we can learn how to pick ourselves up..." He didn't need to see her face to know she was smiling one of the smiles that softened the color of her eyes, "I think I'm a little in love with Alfred."

"He certainly appears to be fond of you."

"Unlike his schizophrenic employer." It was barely said loud enough for him to hear. From another woman it could have been interpreted as an opening for him to deny it or let her down gently. But not Vicki. She was just saying what she thought.

Bruce forcibly dragged his gaze away from the dark silhouette of her delicate profile and walked away, "Good night, Vicki."

"Good night, Bruce."