I didn't even bother folding my clothes. I was so angry that I just kept hurling piles into my open suitcase that was slowly becoming engorged with an array of color. I slammed an emptied drawer shut and it flew back into itself with a bang. I ripped open another and started the process over with my jaw clenched and teeth grinding.
Bella's coming back with me…
A snarl grumbled in my mouth as Clark's words, uttered just ten minutes earlier, scuttled around in my head. As the rerun crossed my mind I slammed the next emptied drawer a little bit harder than the last and one of my perfume bottles tipped over and rolled off the top of the bureau.
I was a grown woman. I had the right to make decisions on my own. I decided where I lived, what I did with my life, when I went out, when I came back –and Clark was roping me back into Metropolis like I was five years old. His excuse was that he was keeping me safer. He had never caught Luthor, he confessed. The asshole had an escape plan apparently and barely left a trace of the torment he'd caused me.
"I think she's safest with me in Metropolis," Clark said, bracing his wide shoulders to try and intimidate Bruce.
Bruce stood behind me and clearly wasn't moved by the display.
"Are you saying she's not safe here?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying –she went missing on your watch, didn't she?"
Fire rose in my throat and I stood up a bit taller, "Clark you're being…"
He cut me off, "I can keep a better eye on her there, in case Luthor decides to try again."
"Bullshit!" I cried before Bruce could reply, "I know why you want me back in Metropolis with you, and it has nothing to do with my safety."
Clark finally met my eyes. He hadn't looked at me straight since I entered the room. His face darkened dramatically in anger and a vein protruded from his temple. I held my ground, even though it was rare and frightening to see him this angry. At me of all people.
"Bella, go pack your things."
"Is that an order?" I asked venomously.
Bruce's hand cupped gently around my shoulder.
"Do what he says," he murmured in low tones.
I whirled, offended Bruce was taking Clark's side. Bruce's eyes were not their usual ice, but they were no where near warm. There was something unfamiliar in them, a tortured look I'd never seen before.
And that's when I stormed upstairs and started shredding my clothes from their once neat piles. It took about ten minutes to get all my clothes crammed into the suitcase before I moved into the bathroom to get my shampoo, soap, conditioner, etc. An empty mousse canister made a harsh ringing sound as I pitched it into the trash. Rage swam sharply inside me, when I looked into the mirror I saw my cheeks flushed and my brow furrowed dramatically.
My eyes were dry, though. I was too pissed off at that point to be sad about leaving Bruce. Besides, I'd done more crying here in the manor than I was proud of. I had to at least try to keep my dignity as I walked out of the place.
I finished in the bathroom and zipped up the first, larger suitcase. I heaved it up from the floor and then started to drag it down the hall, down the stairs –where the familiar scent of the wood reminded me of that heated night that got me into this mess- and into the welcoming room where Clark now stood alone. He looked at me with a hard glance as I rolled my suitcase to a stop. Then in childish fury I kicked the thing over so it landed loudly on the floor. Clark didn't flinch. In fact, his face didn't change at all.
I crossed the hallway and then stomped back upstairs. I lingered halfway up and leaned against the wall, hugging my arms around myself. I knocked my head against the wall and squeezed my eyes shut.
I was leaving behind so many good memories. Sure, there were a hell of a lot of unhappy memories here too, but in my opinion the good completely outweighed the bad. Making brownies with Alfred, dancing to Miley Cyrus, watching movies on the couch with Bruce, my first meeting with the Bellabike, my first kiss with Bruce, our training sessions, our soft, long talks –his wonderful blue eyes. The scent in the manor le t me plunge headfirst into my memories.
Alright, you can't blame me for crying this time.
I knocked my head against the wall and squeezed my eyes shut. Frustrated, angry tears burned the insides of my eyelids until they finally broke through my barriers and slipped like little diamonds down one cheek then the other. I groaned at myself and opened my eyes, swiping my fingers furiously under them. The elaborate stairwell seemed to smile sadly at me. I slammed my fist into the side of the wall; the dull pain got my head off my memories just long enough for me to control myself. I sniffed hard, swore, and then started walking again.
There was nothing I wanted to do more than just stay there with Bruce and Alfred. I was happy and I felt like I was growing into the woman I was supposed to be when I was with them. I knew I was unlocking secrets of life that most never got the key to.
I trudged up the stairs like I had weights on both my ankles. I shuffled down the hall and grabbed hold of the handle to my room. Guess it wasn't my room anymore. My real room was back in Metropolis, with the crappy quilt blanket and squeaky metal springs. I'd never get to sleep again in my old bed after the plush silken bed Bruce had given me, I was sure.
I opened the door gently and the familiar low groan of the hinges greeted me. Bruce was sitting on the foot of my bed with his large hands on his knees. I stared at him for a moment, taking in his perfection. Even in just a T-shirt, jeans and no shoes, he made my legs wobble.
He looked up at my entrance with a measured gaze. His face didn't change and his mouth stayed in a downturned line. Mortified, I wiped at my red face again.
"Hey," I muttered, my voice thick.
"Hey," he answered back, his voice deep and dark. He pretended not to notice my tears, thankfully.
He stood from the bed, grabbing hold of my second, smaller suitcase and rolling it with him as he met me halfway. I watched the bulge of muscle in his arm. My body ached to fit into those grooves of strength. I looked to the floor.
"I'll get this for you," Bruce said, sounding awkward as if we were strangers. He didn't have any trouble meeting my eyes though, even though I couldn't stand to keep mine on his for more than a second at a time.
"Thanks," I said, looking over the room once more though not really seeing a thing, and went to turn around to the door. I was desperate to get out of his sight –I hated when anyone, especially Bruce, saw me like this.
He grabbed my arm and gently drew me around until I was facing him. His hand smoothed up my elbow and then came to a rest at my shoulder; his other cupped my face and his thumb brushed at the moisture under my left eye. All my muscled relaxed as my body got its fix.
I leaned into his large chest. His ever present warmth surrounded me. Every ridged curve of his body seemed to cradle my body. The familiarity of him was a comfort, but only for a moment. Then I remembered I was leaving him, maybe forever. I was sure I'd see him again, but there was no way in hell Clark was going to let me visit the manor anytime soon. Our growing intimacy was going to wither away.
Bruce would forget about me. With me out of his life, he would go on to date supermodels and bring girls into his room every night without a second thought. And I'd be sitting in Metropolis, eating ice cream to try and numb the depression –right back where I started.
I raised my face and let my eyes fixate on his lips. My favorite thing about him was the vulnerable indent of his bottom lip; it drew in just a little, as if it were perfectly molded to have my mouth fitted against it. I tilted my face up and he leaned down.
Our lips met sweetly and lightly…then we broke away. Unsatisfying, to say the least.
Bruce's hand slid from my shoulder, but he said nothing. When I looked up into his eyes, I saw nothing. All the emotion that I had begun to be able to read in the time I'd spent with him turned foreign once again. I felt my face crumple. I wanted to say something cheesy, like 'Don't forget me,' but my lips wouldn't work. They were still electric with the last taste of his mouth and they trembled furiously as I tried to keep from bawling.
I wanted to throw a tantrum, honestly. This was unfair on so many levels.
"This isn't goodbye," Bruce said, I looked up and found a reassuring half-smile on his face.
I wasn't convinced.
We went downstairs together into the welcoming room. Clark adjusted his glasses and watched us with narrowed eyes.
"Ready?"
I nodded tightly. I was trying too hard to keep from crying, I feared if I tried to talk I'd hiccup. I turned finally then to Alfred who had made his way towards me. I bounded into him and squeezed my arms around him, burying my face in the front of his black suit.
"Until next time, Ms. Sweet," he said with a chuckle at my attack hug.
I smiled into his chest, but it was a heartbroken smile. I pulled away, my lips pressed so tightly together I'm sure they were white, and nodded.
"See ya, Alfred."
And then I was gone.
Gotham City was rolling by me, its various scents and noises pressing against my face as the open car window let it all in. I had the volume on the radio turned up as loud as it would go, which was pretty freaking loud. The car shook with the bass; I could feel it in my chest.
Clark didn't turn it down. Whether he was trying to be nice or if he just didn't want to deal with me at all, I wasn't sure. Either way, we didn't speak the entire way to the city. The darkness and thrill of Gotham faded as we reached the dull, beautiful façade of Metropolis. Familiar buildings and roads might have comforted me if I had not been seeing them against my will. I was not excited to be home –I was angry.
Clark finally spoke to me when we pulled up to a stop in front of the apartment complex.
"I'm going to work. You can go get settled."
I shoved open my door, slammed it shut and then opened the back one to the back seats to retrieve my suitcases. I slammed that door as hard as I possibly could once I had my things out and watched as he pealed out of the parking lot. I stood there a few minutes trying to calm myself down before I attempted to make other human contact.
I had the spare key in my purse so I was at 'home' in five minutes. I tossed both suitcases on my strange, untouched bed and looked around. The scent, the painting on the wall, my posters, my little TV, my comforter, my lamp, my alarm clock –it was all so familiar that it was unfamiliar, if that makes any sense. I felt like a stranger in my own room just because I didn't want to be there that badly.
I knew if I sat down and was idle I'd start crying and/or go see if Clark had any ice cream in the freezer. So I set to work at unpacking immediately, trying to keep my head on that task only. I unpacked the big one with all my clothes without event. But the case was not the same when I went to unpack the smaller one.
I drew the zipper around its rectangular patterned body and threw the top up. The first thing I saw was an inky black, armored bodice.
"What the…"
I pulled it out and found it was connected to the same armored material pants with dark, flat boots built in. The top section was strapless and thick with grooves of the same armor of Bruce's suit. There was a metal belt around the narrowed hips of the costume with Bruce's emblem on the center piece. I finally realized what it was –a replacement costume.
My old one had been taken from me when I was with Luthor. I hadn't even thought about it until that point. A grin spread along my face as I fingered the bat shape on the center of the belt. Clark would throw a bitch fit when he saw it, this made me smile wider. I then drew the long suit out and laid it on my bright pink comforter. I found a dark black blazer almost identical to my old one next. The lining of the jacket was insulated and warm. Leave it to Bruce to be on top of everything and to even remember winter was coming.
Under the jacket was a box. I tore off the lid with unhindered excitement to find a bunch of little gadgets. A pouch of little shells that were labeled 'smoke bombs', another pouch with chips marked 'trackers', and a few other little odds and ends things. Then there was a bigger mass towards the bottom of the box, it looked like a gun when I took it out. But I knew enough about guns that after about three seconds of studying it in the light I realized it wasn't- but there was a lever and there was a distinct barrel for something to come out of.
Curiosity killed the cat, I know. But the only thing that died from my curiosity that time was my wall. I aimed the contraption away from myself, turned my face just in case, and pulled the trigger.
I almost got knocked off my feet as the thing shot forward a grappling hook attached to a thick metal wire. I lurched back and it took everything in me to keep my balance. Thankfully it wasn't a loud object for stealth purposes, there had just been a sharp hiss and then the crunch of the plaster in my wall caving in as the device clawed its way through.
I couldn't help but laugh. I retracted the wire like a pro and twirled the little device on my index finger, quite satisfied with myself. The sadness and anger had all but faded away as I examined my new presents.
Some girls want diamonds from their guys –I on the other hand was absolutely giddy with my new smoke bombs and grappling hook.
There was one more thing in the box. It was about the size of a matchbox and had a little post-it note stuck to it. I pulled the thing out and peeled the sticky note off. Two buttons were revealed, a blue one and a yellow one.
The note was definitely Bruce's handwriting. Quick and small but neat for a man.
I made you another pager, if you ever need me for anything. But this time if you need Batman, press the blue one. If you just want me- the yellow.
I smiled a wavering, halfhearted smile and stroked the yellow button with my thumb.
That night, I fell asleep more or less content. But my bed was uncomfortable and hard, and the room was too dark, and the cities noises kept me awake. I knew it wasn't that I had grown tired of these things –my discomfort was simply because I knew I was not wanted. I was being kept here out of anger and fear and probably not really welcome.
I didn't feel safe either. Mentally, I was safest in the manor. Those big walls and Bruce had kept my paranoia and fear more or less at bay.
My first night back I had nightmares. And I remembered them.
