BUSTED
I am so dead.
Those are the words screaming in her head upon first setting foot inside her office.
That's it. I'm a goner.
She'd been so careful to avoid him all day. Working around his carefully planned schedule. His office hours. His board meetings. His appointments. Tip-toeing about the security checkpoints as to not raise any red flags or alarms. Even going so far as to limit her trips to the break room out of fear of accidentally running into him. Or someone who would TELL him that she'd returned.
But you can't run forever. Not for long, anyway. Any former thief will tell you that. There comes a time when the law finally catches up with you. And it's always when you least expect it. When you think you're safe and home free.
Because now here he is. Sitting in one of her chairs. Waiting for her as she returns from her visit to the lavatory. The Dark Knight Detective, himself. Her dad.
"You've been avoiding me." Bruce Wayne states in chilling monotone.
"Nice to see you too." Helena groans, noticing he'd not even bothered to say 'hi'. "And for your information, I haven't been AVOIDING you."
Which is a bold-faced lie. Both she and he knows it.
In confident strides, Helena crosses her office to take a seat down at her desk. She's so nervous, she wants to puke, but she sure as hell won't show it. Not to him.
"So... To what do I owe the pleasu-"
Unfolding the morning newspaper at his side, Bruce Wayne thwaps it down hard on her desk, cutting her off mid-sentence.
Big and bold, the cover story glares up at her and she finds herself faced with photos of the NY blackout from the night before. Street view images and eyewitness accounts. And not only that. Photos taken from the Hubble telescope of the strange messages of love and adoration. Her name spelled out in lights across a darkened cityscape.
"Mind explaining this?" Mr. Wayne's baritone booms.
"You think I had something to do with this?" Helena plays coy, acting as if this is all news to her.
"I don't know." He plays along. "Did you?"
Helena looks at the pictures again and shrugs.
"There's plenty of other girls named Helena." She offers simply. "It's a pretty common name."
Bruce eases back into his leather client chair, folding his arms across his wide chest.
"Not as common as you think."
Helena mirrors his actions, folding her arms as well. Face to face they sit across from one another. Only her desk and their imaginary walls stand between them.
"I didn't DO it, dad." She groans, rolling her eyes. "And anyway, even if I DID, WHY would I go and SIGN my work, huh? What's the point if I'm only going to get caught? I'm not one of those Arkham lunatics, you know."
"I never ACCUSED you of that, and I'm not SAYING you did it." Bruce defends. "But you KNOW who did. Don't you."
It's not a question, but more of a fact. An allegation. He knows she knows more than she's letting on. And defiant as always, she's not budging one bit.
His interrogation techniques have never worked well on her. Always so direct and head-on. Blunt and straight to the point. She can detect his approach from well over a mile away. So he tries another way around it.
"But enough about that." He relents, retrieving the Gotham Gazette from atop his daughter's desk. "How have you been? I haven't seen you around lately."
Helena doesn't breathe any more easily. She knows he's up to something, still fishing for answers. This whole 'buddy-buddy' smalltalk is so not like him at all.
"Oh, you know..." She begins with the wave of her hand. Spinning yet another tall tale. "I've been away in Tahiti, working on my tan."
Another lie. And not even a very good one. That's what she'd told her receptionist, sure. As well as what's circulating around the office. But he knows better.
"Oh? And how did that work out?" Bruce asks playfully.
The log books for both the company and private jets are clean. Neither have left their hangars in weeks. Same goes for the yacht or any other means of transportation. Not to mention her passports, all nine of them, haven't been used in months.
There's also the fact that she hasn't gotten even the slightest hint of color. Absolutely no tan to speak of. In fact, quite the opposite. Her pallor is a bit on the pasty side. She's more pale than usual, if that's even possible. He'd say almost sickly, even.
"Eh..." Helena replies with an indifferent shrug. "Weather was a bit overcast."
Bruce calculates in his head how long it would take him to look up the past week's weather patterns in and around the Tahitian area. Which would certainly be no more than a minute, tops. And though he's not much of a betting man, he'd most certainly take that wager they had clear and sunny skies the whole time she'd been away.
All in all, everything stacks up to the fact that she's keeping something from him. Which isn't all that unusual. Since her return, she hasn't been all that open and honest with her feelings and who can blame her. She has her reasons and these things take time. But what IS unusual is the fact that she's been strangely absent from her nighttime duties.
The Huntress threw a fit the last time he'd benched her, but now she seems to have benched herself. Her new bike has yet to be broken in. She's been neglecting her patrolling for quite a while now. Which can only mean one thing. Something's up. But what? What could she possibly be hiding?
Now, by all means, he can call her flat out. Lay all the facts out on the table. Ruffle her feathers, get her on the defensive and start yet another all out war.
Or he can keep playing along.
"That's a shame." Bruce feigns his sympathy. "Though I've heard the weather this time of year can get pretty BLEAK."
Through shifty, slitted eyes, Helena glares questionably at her father. Picking up on the connotation he'd placed on a certain key word.
"And speaking of BLEAK," Bruce Wayne continues, "How fares our Witch Boy?"
"Warlock." Helena corrects.
"Right. Warlock." Bruce replies with the hint of a grin. "So, how is the Roanoke project going?"
Easing up a bit in her office chair, Helena takes a small sip of water. She refuses to let her father know that he's getting to her. She won't be broken down so easily. Even though she's found herself falling right into his trap.
"Fine. Everything's been handled." She explains easily. "Buildings are going up quickly. Klarion thinks the inhabitants should be all moved in by the end of the year."
"Klarion?" Bruce notices the slip. She's no longer referring to the witch as Mr. Bleak. "I see we're on a first name basis. No more bad blood between the two of you, then?"
Helena doesn't say anything. Just remains perfectly still and quiet as her father plays his hand.
"You know... Come to think of it, doesn't KLARION currently live in New York?" Bruce asks cheekily. "You think he did alright during the blackout?"
Slouching in her chair, Helena crosses her arms and groans. That sneaky Bat...
"Whatever you're going to say, just say it already." She sighs with the roll of her eyes.
He didn't waste much time circling back to his previous conversation about the blackout. Blaming her for what happened, or at the very least accusing her for being an accomplice to the crime.
But he doesn't blame. He doesn't accuse. He just sits there, smiling. Which is an unnerving sight for the Cruisader.
"Nothing to say." He replies in a calm tone. "You seem happy, is all."
The smiling was one thing, but this? Helena doesn't know how to take such a comment.
"What's THAT supposed to mean?" She asks cautiously, raising an eyebrow.
He wants something. He must. Since when has he ever cared about her happiness?
"I'm just saying you look happy." He reiterates. "Your trip to Tahiti really must have done wonders. Even with the bleak weather conditions."
That's it. She can't take it anymore. The smiling. The compliments. The nerves and pregnancy hormones. It's all coming to a head.
"OK! Enough!" Helena nearly shouts. "Enough with these word games! I didn't GO to Tahiti, and you KNOW IT! What's WITH you? Telling me I look happy... What's WITH THAT? What game are you playing?"
"I'm not playing any games, Helena."
"My ass you're not!" She accuses angrily. "First you make me take the Roanoke case after you KNEW it would only upset me..."
"It upset you?" Bruce asks, still playing aloof.
"DUH!" Helena shouts. "You KNEW taking the case meant I would have to see Klarion again. And you KNEW what our past was. And still you pushed."
"I also KNEW you said it was all in the past and that you could handle it."
"WELL, I LIED!" Helena confesses emotionally. Her voice suddenly becomes small. "It affected me, ok?"
Crossing her arms, she looks down at her lap. Afraid that if she looks up, she may very well burst into tears. Hormones or not, this confrontation between her and her father has been a long time coming. And it's a difficult one to deal with. As they always are.
Bruce can clearly see how very close she is to crying. And not only that. How completely open and honest she is with him right now. Vulnerable, even. This is the closest he's felt to her in... well... ever.
He rises from his seat to come around her desk and take a knee down beside her chair. Placing a warm, fatherly hand atop her knee, he looks up at her sincerely.
"I'm sorry if what I did hurt you. I never meant to make you feel manipulated or like this was all a game. I didn't mean to push anything on you. I only wanted what was best. I only wanted you to be happy. Really."
"So why Klarion?"
No more secrets, Helena begs him for a true and honest answer. A tear rolls down her cheek and he gives it to her. The truth.
"Because he made you happy." Bruce replies softly. "My happiest memories of you were when you were with him. I guess I just wanted those times back. But it was wrong to try to force that on you and I'm sorry. I guess I'm just no good at these sorts of things."
"That makes two of us." Helena laughs through her tears. "Guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, huh?"
"Yeah."
Smiling along with her, Bruce offers Helena a rare laugh of his own. Then gives her knee a slight squeeze before getting to his feet.
He's never been the hugging type. It's just not in his nature. To do so would be awkward for the both of them. But that doesn't make this moment between them any less sweet.
For the first time in what feels like forever, they're not butting heads or arguing. There's no fighting or bickering or bloodshed. And it's nice.
For the first time in forever, Bruce feels as if he's got his daughter back.
"So... We good?" He asks.
"Yeah, we're good." She replies, drying her eyes.
"You happy?"
"Yeah." Helena confirms with a small smile. "I am."
"Because of Klarion?"
The archer gives her father a death glare. The sort that reminds him she's got a crossbow latched beneath her desk and she's not afraid to use it. He instantly throws his hands up in surrender.
"Fine. Fine. Not pushing it!" He laughs.
He motions to leave, but she stops him, getting up from her seat as well.
"Um... Dad?"
Again, he turns to face her and in that moment where their eyes meet, she instantly loses her nerve.
She wants so bad to tell him her BIG secret. He's going to find out anyway, so it might as well be from her, right? This should be a joyous time, after all. With family all around and smiling faces and warm wishes. It's only normal. But "normal" has never been the word to easily describe her "family".
"Can we... uh... have dinner sometime?"
"Sure. You want to grab a bite after work?"
He doesn't get what she's trying to say.
"No... That's not it." She tries to clear up. "I mean ALL of us. The family. I'd like us all to get together sometime soon and have dinner, maybe? You know. Like a REAL family?"
"Oh. Yeah... Sure. Sure. I don't see a problem with that."
Bruce pockets his hands a bit uncomfortably. It's not often that they all get together for something like this. The last time was for her birthday. Before that, her funeral. There's usually some sort of significance suggested when a gathering is in order. And it's usually not for very pleasant reasons. But this seems important to her. How could he say no?
"I'll tell Alfred to make that roast you like." He offers, before adding in with a grin. "Should I also tell him to set an extra place setting? We expecting a plus one?"
Expecting a plus one... He has NO idea how right he actually is.
"Yeah. I'll be bringing a date." She replies with a sly grin.
"Do Croatoans have any dietary restrictions?"
Staring down at her shoes, Helena shakes her head. Sometimes she just can't believe the tenacity of her father. One way or another, he always gets the information he wants and needs.
The former cat burglar doesn't even have to say anything in order to incriminate herself. She was busted from the very start. Caught red-handed with a smile on. It was her happiness in the end that gave her away.
"Tell Klarion 'hi' for me!" He calls from over his shoulder.
A wave of his hand, and Mr. Wayne is out the door. A clean getaway before Helena has a chance to even argue or yell after him. Like a bat in the night, he disappears out into the hallway. A quick exit, straight to the elevators and away from sight.
God, she hates it when he does that.