Vanessa flexed her hands, sparing them a second's glance she swayed on her feet; both were now covered in Bruce's still warm blood. Once more the urge to empty the contents of her stomach on the cave floor welled up as her vision began to swim. Taking a few shaky steps backwards she forced herself to be strong, looking towards Alfred she marvelled at the old man's resilience. Here was Bruce, a man he had raised from boyhood, a man that he considered to be his son, bleeding from a gunshot wound, the likes of which he had received countless times before. The pain having proved too much Bruce had slipped into unconsciousness, leaving Alfred free to tend to his wound without further hindrance. The butler worked quickly and effectively, fortunately it was a clean shot and nothing vital had been hit it. Within half an hour Bruce's stomach was devoid of blood, he was stitched up, padded and wrapped up in bandages. Motioning to Vanessa the young woman hurried forwards.
"Come on now, we need to push the trolley to the lift, and take him up. We'll have to put him in one of the rooms on the ground floor. I don't think we could mange those flights of stairs."
Vanessa didn't say anything, eyes red, cheeks devoid of colour, her mouth a thin line. Nodding her assent Vanessa affixed her hands firmly to the side of the gurney and began to push.
The cream curtains that covered the tall French windows to the side of the room were half closed, fluttering every so often as a gust of air forced it's way around the room from the open door to the hall. Vanessa shifted where she sat, pushing her reading glasses further up her nose she turned the page of the well-thumbed book that currently lay in her lap. Sighing to herself she closed the tome, removing her glasses she rubbed the bridge of her nose, enough reading for the day she decided. Sliding off the side of the bed she wondered over to the large windows, drawing back the curtains fully she looked out at the well kept lawn as she tried to empty her head of thoughts that were battling for dominance. Stretching her arms upwards her back and shoulder's clicked, maybe it was time she joined the living for the day. Walking back towards the bed she had so recently vacated Vanessa gasped when she saw Bruce awake and staring intently at her.
"Good morning," Bruce smiled at her. Vanessa bit her lip; he really was charming when he wanted to be.
"Oh don't smile at me like that." Vanessa huffed as she walked to the other side of the bed and crawled on to it.
"What?" Bruce questioned, his voice slightly hoarse but still utterly inviting.
"What!" Vanessa exclaimed gesturing towards him, "You were shot Bruce." Vanessa paused, closing her eyes, willing herself not to cry but sure enough the warm tears came unbidden to trickle down her cheeks. "I had your blood on my hands Bruce..." Vanessa gasped, trying to regain some composure, "I cant lose you like that, you're supposed to be old and grey with a walking stick not..."
"Vanessa..." Bruce began, making to sit up.
Noticing his movements Vanessa placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Don't, you'll pull your stitches," her voice hollow, her tears spent.
"Vanessa," Bruce growled, not quite the Batman's but enough to cause the woman to look over, her eyes narrowed.
"Bruce?" she countered, her voice level.
"I know my limitations," was the billionaire's response as he pushed himself upright, only a slight flicker of pain in his eyes as he did so. Then without further explanation he pulled Vanessa towards him, cupping her face with both his hands.
"You don't think you have any limitations Bruce," Vanessa muttered, her green eyes devoid of joy.
"Batman doesn't have any limitations," Bruce corrected her.
"And you're Batman first and foremost Bruce..."
"Is this your way of telling me I should stop what I'm doing?" the Gothamite questioned, an undercurrent of anger to his tone.
"No, I would never." Vanessa replied, unabashed. "Its just that I need time to adjust. Before I came to Gotham violence and injury was always in the abstract. But it's a definite part of your life and maybe now mine." Vanessa blushed, her cheeks a deep scarlet.
Bruce kissed the top of head, using his finger to lift her chin and meet her gaze before whispering, "You're not going to lose me like that. I promise."
Bruce pulled on a crisp white shirt and was soon deftly buttoning it up. The wound in his side was hardly giving him any trouble but if Alfred and Vanessa had their way he'd be confined to bed for several more days. Glancing over to the aforementioned bed he saw Vanessa struggling with the zip of her dress, her hair elegantly arranged on her head, legs wrapped up in tights as she tottered slightly in lethal looking heels.
"Do you want some help?"
"Please," Vanessa called, giving up and slumping onto the bed, blowing flyaway copper strands off from her face.
"Look at you, poor little cub. Defeated by a zip." Bruce mocked good-naturedly before zipping her up and tapping her on the bottom.
"Laugh it up Wayne, don't come crying to me when you can't tie your bowtie." Vanessa rolled her eyes, "Why don't you run along and go buy some shares in a Fortune 500 company or whatever it is you do all day."
Bruce laughed, "You think that's what I do?"
"Yeah," Vanessa grinned. "That and practice your putting."
"Remind me never to offer you a job with Wayne Enterprises," Bruce replied before kissing her lightly on the mouth.
"You know what, I resent that," Vanessa countered half smiling. "Right I'm going to work."
With one more lingering kiss Vanessa was away.
Drumming her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel of a borrowed car Vanessa waited for the lights to change. Manoeuvring the Mercedes through the traffic she made a mental note to go and pick up her car from her apartment block. Despite opting for the humblest car in the garage she still felt ill at ease amongst all the leather and brushed chrome. As the sound of Gotham traffic lulled her into a trance like state her thoughts drifted, as they so often did, to the night when Bruce came home, covered in blood and delirious. Rachel, the one name on his lips: not Alfred, not mum, not dad, but Rachel. Vanessa's hands tightened around the hand stitched leather encasing the steering wheel; she wasn't a fool to think that Bruce hadn't had other women in his life. But a woman he called out to, begging for forgiveness? That was something else entirely. The sharp beeps of a car horn behind her pulled Vanessa back to the present and the crowded roads of Gotham, gunning the engine she sailed forward through the now green traffic lights.
The skies above Wayne Manor were black as gentle breezes rustled and swayed the several trees that surrounded the ancestral Wayne seat. Vanessa had come back from the gallery where Elaine had been reinstated as secretary with a new strict door policy and business was flourishing. As the art dealer showered and changed Bruce faced the oven, a large copper pot standing proudly on the gas hob waiting for all kinds of wonderful ingredients to be emptied into it. Bruce however resisted from adding the milk to the flour and butter mix, what Julia Child had informed him was named a 'roux'.
"Ah, Master Bruce..."
"Alfred," Bruce replied deadpan, his eyes firmly glued to the pan.
"Perhaps you ought to put the milk in now, before it burns?" Alfred offered helpfully doing his best to not to laugh.
"Yes, but how much?" Bruce asked, genuinely confused.
"You, Sir, who have reconstituted fingerprints from plaster casts of bullet holes left in walls cannot determine how much milk to use?"
"Alfred," Bruce began through gritted teeth, "If you're going to stand there and poke fun at me you might as well go."
"A little at a time I find does the trick," Alfred conceded.
Bruce nodded and began the delicate task of thickening the sauce.
"Not that you aren't allowed in the kitchen Master Bruce, but what are exactly are you doing here?"
"Proving a point," Bruce replied smiling at his now perfectly formed white sauce.
Vanessa sat nervously at the table as Bruce bustled about; finally with a flourish he placed a plate in front of her, covered with what looked like completely edible food. Vanessa raised an eyebrow.
"I gave Alfred the night off," Bruce replied as he took his place opposite Vanessa.
"Sure," she grinned at him, "so this doesn't have anything to do with some comments I made a while back?"
"Absolutely not," Bruce replied immediately, creases forming round his eyes in good humour as he poured her a glass of wine.
"Thanks," Vanessa muttered absentmindedly as she took her first bite of the meal Bruce had prepared, "hey not bad kid."
"You sound mildly surprised," Bruce commented, as he picked up his fork.
Vanessa merely laughed in response; Bruce glanced at her and marvelled – she was beautiful.
It was only when Bruce had cleared away the plates from the main course and brought out desert, a New York cheesecake, admittedly shop bought, before Vanessa had plucked up the courage to say something and address the thoughts she had been mulling over for days. Allowing herself to savour the pudding for at least a minute Vanessa chewed slowly and swallowed the creamy cake. Coughing slightly she attempted to marshal her thoughts, she needed tact, there was no point going in guns blazing.
"Bruce," she began as she took another bite.
"Mmhmm,"
Vanessa looked up trying to meet the billionaire's eyes, "when you came back to the Batcave, when you were hurt. You began talking, talking to someone that wasn't there."
Bruce had put down his fork and was looking at Vanessa intently, his expression hard to read, undeterred Vanessa continued. "You wanted her to know that you couldn't save her..."
Bruce took a sharp intake of breath, but Vanessa was not yet done.
"Was it because of Rachel that you fought so hard to get me back?" Vanessa whispered, her eyes looking at anything but Bruce.
"A little bit, perhaps." Bruce replied, desperately seeking Vanessa's gaze. "Rachel... Rachel was special and I lost her because I couldn't save her from a mad man."
"The Joker?" Vanessa questioned, finally looking up.
"He was so close Vanessa, so close to making the city rip herself apart." Bruce laughed a hollow, bitter laugh. "But Rachel, she meant a lot to me, ever since we were kids, she was probably my only friend. Rachel was brave, she was fearless, she didn't fall for the phoney billionaire act. But now she's gone and a part of me will always carry that with me, a part of me will always wonder what I could have done differently."
Vanessa nodded slowly, "you loved her." It wasn't a question, it was a statement without a hint of jealously or resentment.
"Yes," Bruce replied, he had promised himself that there wouldn't be any more secrets, not with Vanessa – he couldn't afford them.
"Thank you," Vanessa smiled, her eyes were warm as her hand reached out and held his over the table. "Thank you for everything."
"Vanessa you don't have to thank me..."
"But I do, I never asked you to but you did. You, Bruce Wayne, are an amazing individual and maybe once in a while Batman deserves recognition for all the good he does."
"You make it easy Vanessa," Bruce countered, his hand cupping Vanessa's cheek as his thumb rubbed her soft flushed skin ever so slightly. Leaning into his hand Vanessa sighed, for a second sidetracked.
"I hope you remember this part because I think I have to go home. Back to Bristol. I need to go home for a while. But I'll come back to Gotham..." Vanessa paused. "That's my promise to you. Besides I owe you," she smiled wryly hoping she wasn't pushing Bruce away.
Bruce rose and walked towards the seated woman, "I understand and I'll be waiting," he said. And within seconds he had swept her up, his lips crashing down on hers. Lost in a moment the two stood in a tender embrace, nothing but each other mattered.
A/N: Well! Another chapter in the same week! It must be Christmas! Ok, so it's a little shorter than the one before but hopefully you'll forgive me. One more chapter to go and things will be wrapped up... Eep! Let me know what you think and as always I hope you enjoyed it