1) Thank you to all my readers, followers and reviewers. To all of you, Happy Holidays and Best Wishes!
2) I would like to dedicate this chapter to TKLT's most faithful reviewer _ PaulineJ24, who virtually wrote one review for each chapter.
3) This is probably the last post of the year. As I promised, I injected a bit of soap drama into this chap, and as I previously stated, Shakespeare's romantic comedies was my primary inspiration to build Wayne & Tate relationship and their constant heated argument. So don't you expect to see a willing Miranda saying YES right away. She's a very stubborn lady who believes Bruce is just playing with her feelings. After all, she betrayed him in a very deep way, so she thinks she's not worthy of Bruce's love and affection. As regarding Bruce, basically he just find himself really unable to fully trust her after everything. It doesn't help at all he can't tell her how he feels (I must confess there are times I want to grab Wayne by the bat-ears of his cowl and yell, "Tell her you love her, you idiot!"). Yet they're gonna need to join forces if they want to win against a common threat.
4) Be warned, this chapter contains some swearing.
5) Again, English is not my native language, so my sincere apologies for possible errors of grammar, punctuation and spelling.
6) And don't forget to read & review, please. Suggestions are always welcome.
Previously on THE KNIGHT'S LAST TEMPTATION:
"Stop dancing around the issue and get right to the point."
"They advised me to choose a wife, or risk losing my position as president of the company."
Miranda gasped incredulously. "Wow! This is certainly a surprise. But let me get this straight," she said slowly, "You need to get married to stay in control of the company, right?"
"Yep."
"All of that sounds like completely bullshit to me. And I still haven't the faintest idea about my role on it."
Bruce's tread was light and predatory as he strode around the kitchen island until he was standing only inches in front of her. "Suppose I asked you to marry me. What would you say?" His voice was dangerously soft.
Shocked, she stared at him as she waited for the punch line. Which did not come.
XXXVI - An Offer She Can't Refuse
Miranda Tate's Loft, Midtown District, Gotham City
Miranda gave herself a mental shake. Licking her lips nervously, she finally said, "Excuse me?"
"Marry me," Bruce said again. His gaze sharpening as if he want to read her mind.
She laughed. "You're delusional."
His lips curved humorlessly. "Far from it."
That seemed to spark something, and her calm facade dropped. She pulled away fast and paced, and her hands moved agitatedly as she talked, "You must be joking. Look, this is not fun at all and I'm in no mood for childish games or jokes. So..."
Bruce cut her off and persisted. "I'm freaking dead serious."
She gave a dazed shake of her head. "No, you're outside your mind."
His adrenalin surged. "Oh, c'mon. What on earth you say that? Think about it. We both got behind the eight ball. You scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. A husband will shoot you ahead in the guardianship stakes. As for myself, some directors believe if I'd be seen as a contented family man it will be a better image than that of a playboy or a eccentric billionaire. Together we'll stand and certainly can use it to our advantage against a possible threat from Vale's breaking news. In my view, it would be a win-win situation."
This was absolutely crazy. She was shocking at his reasoning, it took her a moment to think past what he was saying.
"I'm not looking to get married at the moment." A shadow crossed her face but disappeared a second later.
He shrugged. "Neither was I, now that you mention it, but the circumstances have changed."
Her face paled. "I'm sure there's another way to sort things out. If you're so worried about it and doesn't want her to go deeper into her story, why don't you keep tabs on what Vale's working on by taking control of her computer?"
"It's not that easy," he drawled
Miranda snorted like she was not entirely convinced of this. Trying to charm her into marrying him was not likely to work. Those blazing blue eyes of hers would shoot down every move he made in that direction. No way would she believe he cared about her. So what would work? Why not offer her a deal? One attractive even Miranda Tate could not refuse.
A look of implacable determination crossed his face as he continued, "Can't you see? It would be the perfect solution for all of us, and, most importantly, for the kids. Damian is our flesh and blood son. Helena needs loving and caring parents. I can't come up with more perfect couple to fill that role. Once we get engaged, we'll adopt Helena as our daughter so she feels as much a part of us as Damian does."
Miranda shut her eyes and stuffed her fingers in her ears. Through clenched teeth, she hissed with pure annoyance, "Stop it, Bruce. What you're suggesting is impossible."
"Why? Once upon a time we were lovers," he declared forcefully. "We're obviously sexually compatible, so I can't see any reason why our marriage shouldn't be a fair success, can you? Besides, you still have feelings for me. Admit it."
Her body tautened as hot color streamed into her cheeks. "The only thing I'm feeling right now is disbelief. And anger."
"I thought you were prepared to put the children's happiness and safety above every other consideration."
"The children are my first priority. But I can't do that at the cost of my own freedom and sanity."
"I know we're not the same people who fell in love years ago. We've both struggled a great deal since then. We've lost loved ones. Obviously we can't go back and change anything. But we could sure as hell try to make a wonderful life for the children. And I think it's the least you owe me."
Miranda eyed him through shuttered lids.
"Are you asking me to believe you really care?" she demanded, her voice hard. "Because I sense this has to do only with saving your own ass."
"Big talk from a woman whose twisted vendetta against me was what put us in this situation in the first place," he retorted. "It's time you stopped blaming me and started shouldering some responsibility."
"Yeah, a vendetta that's completely justified."
No chance of admitting it but he understood her motives. "Perhaps. But you're no innocent."
"No, I am not. That's a burden I'll carry for the rest of my life." Letting out a long sigh, she went to the door and yanked it open. "You were just passing, I suppose, so feel free to carry on doing just that."
"You want me to leave?" he asked, blinking in disbelief.
Miranda, her expression stony, planted her hands on her hips and fixed her eyes on the wall directly ahead. "The only thing I want more is for you to be kidnapped by aliens, but I'm realistic, I'll settle for the former."
He dragged his long fingers through his hair. The sheer familiarity of the gesture made her ache.
"We're not done yet," Bruce proclaimed and closed the door sharply.
His eyes were focused on her exclusively, expressive and possessive, as if he were only biding his time, and her heart began beating wildly. She began turning away, but Bruce's hand reached out and wrapped around her wrist, detaining her.
Miranda stalled in her tracks and turned around to face him again. Her blazing eyes lifted to the contemptuous face of the man who had captured her wrist. For a moment she stood stock still, frozen there, staring fixedly at Bruce's hand on her arm.
He was incredible... really incredible! Did he really think she was going to let him waltz in here and mess up her life for a second time?
"Let me go… How dare…?" she protested, trying to jerk away from his grasp.
Suddenly she was free.
"Don't walk away while I'm talking to you," he hissed angrily.
Rubbing one wrist, she glared at him. "You're not talking to me. You're being rude and generally incredibly unpleasant."
Bruce lifted a hand to his head in an intensely weary gesture, aware that Miranda watched with a cautious glint in her eye. Then he silently withdrew and sighed, relaxed.
Turning toward her again, he said, "Do you still follow your father's lessons?"
She swallowed hard and folded her arms, looking coldly across the room at him.
"The way I see it, the only one in this room who still rely upon his lessons is you."
A tense moment settled as they both stared at each other, neither one giving quarter.
"Damn you, Talia," Bruce cursed. "Why do you have to be so damned complicated?"
Miranda's heart jumped at the mention of her former name, yet her expression remained as cold as stone.
"You think yourself on some higher plane of morality, Bruce. But you used me and played with my heart and failed when I needed you most," she rejoindered. "I damned you my whole pregnancy while I waited to hear from you. I damned you when I needed to make the most difficult choice of my life. I damned you every day thereafter."
The resentment started small, but snowballed into a flood of emotions that couldn't be contained any longer.
"The agony was so terrible because I was still hoping any sign to indicate you still wanted me in your life. It never happened!" Her cry reverberated in the room.
Miranda's words had been born of heartbreak more than anything. Though she did not doubt that Bruce had loved her, there had been too many failures, too many betrayals and breaches of trust, to ever believe they could have been truly together, truly with all the love and dedication deserved. It was a reflection of herself, thinking to be a fool for still holding on to him, her hope, for so long. Even when he failed her. Even when she failed him.
A grim look of self-recrimination broke out on Bruce's face.
Regaining her composure, she added softly, "Now it's too little, too late to fix things. I don't wanna dredge up the past anymore."
"And hitting below the bell, I see."
"Saying the truth isn't hitting below the bell. Unless you can't handle the truth."
"You say you don't wanna dredge up the past, but that's exactly what you're doing. You're judging me by what happened to us many years ago," he argued. His body language was tight and defensive. But he did not want to fight with her, especially over the past. What mattered was now and the future.
Biting her lip, Miranda turned away from him and walked toward the giant windows. Then she rested her forehead against the cold glass, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. Without facing him, she spoke, "And you don't do the same to me? All the time asking yourself if I'm worthy of your trust?"
Bruce could not force a word past the lump in his throat, and his muteness said it all. Miranda was right in her assumptions, at least, partially. Years of being let down was more than enough to put a permanent dent in his heart.
Since their conversation had reached that point, there was no reason to continue to sugarcoat. So, after a short silence, he brought up an subject that still bothered him.
"Why did you chose to give our son to strangers? You've claimed that it was to protect him. Why were you so frightened of your father's reaction? It was not like Rã's would warm his own flesh and blood."
Miranda's breath poured out in a long hiss in a mix of exhaustion and irritation. "Do we have to do this now? Tonight? I thought we'd been over that."
Her evasiveness had flared anger in him. To his ears it sounded like it was mockery of the most insulting sort.
"No, we hadn't," he prompted, sounding a little less furious than he really was. "I'm certainly not. I wonder how you were able to do it with Damian. How were you capable of leaving a helpless infant at the mercy of his fate and of an uncertain future, without at least trying to fight for him?"
She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. "How dare you?"
"Tell me," Bruce persisted, anger flashing through his eyes.
At that moment, Miranda realized that Bruce really meant business, and he would not give up so easily.
"I knew I was weak. That sooner or later I'd be crushed. I was afraid of cowering in face of my father's impositions…"
He interrupted her and snapped harshly, "The coward you were when you sentenced our child to orphanhood."
"How can you say such a thing?" she asked, outraged. Quickly returning to rest her gaze upon the city night skyline, she added, "You wasn't even there for him. Or for me. I did what was necessary. Rã's al Ghul craved for a male heir to succeed him. If he learned I had borne a son, he surely would convert this child into the next leader of the League. Ultimately, I feel that I was right to trust my baby with other people. Otherwise you would have fought him last year, instead of Bane."
The discussion had left both of them physically and emotionally drained, but it also seemed to ignite something from inside them. Bruce moved toward her, and Miranda took a step backward, still avoiding to make eye contact with him. Her already edgy senses sending a warning through her whole body.
After a moment, he tentatively broke the awkward silence that fell upon them.
"During the time that I was... trapped in that pit, it was... enlightening, in a way. I had months to myself.. I got to think about everything I'd ever done. Every choice I regretted. Every person who's died because of me. I thought of us. And... I didn't look upon it with dislike or regret, but with hope. Hope of living long enough to meet you again. I still hadn't had the slightest idea that you were involved with all of that." Bruce smiled sorrowfully, through partially lidded dark hazel eyes.
Miranda considered speaking, but she did not. What else there was to say that had not already been said?
Unhesitating, he advanced on her again, and the air between them crackled with tension. This time he reached out to run his hands around her slender shoulders, and carefully drew her closer. On her part, Miranda pushed out a short sigh, then lifted up her chin to finally meet his gaze. What she found there struck like a flaming arrow directly at her heart.
He dropped his head and kissed her lips, fiercely, intimately. Like a man who knew every inch of his lover. A man who was desperate. Desperate for her. For one brief moment it seemed that she would surrender, but her common sense prevailed, and she finally pushed Bruce away from her.
"Dammit, Miranda! Everytime I think I'm getting somewhere, you take all the steps back. I'm tired of this. How many times do I have to say: I am fucking sorry!"
She stepped back, startled by his outburst, a few tears welled up in her eyes.
"No, I'm the one who is sorry. I really am," she said. With a visible effort of will she forced herself to calm down. "I think you must leave. Now."
Torn between his conflicting desires to draw her close and to force her far, far away, Bruce stared at the defiant tilt of her small face and debated his next words.
"You still haven't answered my proposal."
"I beg to differ. My response's been pretty clear. Especially after what just has happened here."
"Don't try me, Miranda. You won't like the results."
Blue grayish eyes narrowed and a flush rose on her chest. "Is that some kind of threat?"
"I don't make threats. Just promises."
She gaped in face of such prepotency. "I won't jump to do your bidding just because you happen to crook your finger in my direction. You can't force me to marry you if I don't wish to."
"You'll do as I say or else suffer the consequences. Have you ever thought of someone tipping Vale and Gordon off about your connections of the League of the Shadows? You know, things like this might get out. It would be your end."
"You wouldn't stoop so low," she scoffed, pretending to be amused by the preposterous statement.
Challenge flared in his eyes. "Shall we bet on that?"
His relentlessly cool voice kept going, bringing her to yet another quivering standstill.
"Marry me, so I can help with Helena's adoption and keep Vicki Vale and the PD staying out of your hair. Don‟t marry me, and I'll expose you to the world. I'll light the litmus under a treason and corporate espionage scandal then just stand back to watch it go up.‟
She looked at him, at his cold, dark eyes. And she knew he was not bluffing.
"Don't get this direction, Bruce. You, of all people, should know never to underestimate the power of an extremely pissed off woman."
"Yeah, I've learnt my lesson well, and I'm comfortable with the stress of do-or-die situations. But where does all this leave you?"
His arrogant retort was the final straw. Miranda's lips compressed into a thin line. "Get out," she snapped. "Now."
He walked past her. "This conversation is not over..."
"Oh, yes, it is. Leave." Stalking across the room, she picked up the phone. "Leave or I'll call the police."
It was a stupid and pointless choice of words, still was always worth trying.
"Now who's making threats?"
"You're not the only one who doesn't make empty threats. Get out of my house."
He had never had anyone try his temper the way Miranda did, and he was moments from saying or doing something he might regret later. Maybe it was best he leave before then. As he opened the door, he warned her one last time. "This doesn't end here. This is far from over."
"Oh, no. It's over. I assure you of that. Goodbye, Mr. Wayne." She slammed the door behind him and he heard the lock click into place.
She thought it was that easy? That it was over just because she said so? She might have gotten away with it on Switzerland, but the circumstances had changed dramatically. Confronting her was the last thing Bruce wanted to do, however he felt he had no other options. And so he was going to do what he felt he had to do. For everyone's sake – including her own – he had to convince her to accept his proposal.
Hell, how he loved that woman! A woman who had possibly betrayed him more deeply than he could have imagined, not only on a business level, but more important, she had let him down personally. Yet fear slid like an icy finger down his spine at the idea of ruining everything and losing her for good.
Cursing her again for making him feel like a school boy with a crush, he took the elevator toward the lobby.
On the other side of the door, Miranda was breathing shakily. She was scandalised by Bruce's shocking proposal. It was not only the matter of how absurd all that sounded to her ears, but how it seemed more like a business arrangement than a personal commitment between two people. Someone had forgotten to tell him that when a woman heard a proposal, she sort of expected to hear something about 'love' in there somewhere.
Alas, Bruce Wayne had a knack for dealing with this sort of thing in the most unromantic possible way. Even in her wildest dreams she never had conceived such madness. It was a question of go from the frying pan or get into the fire. She needed to take her time before she could fail to keep events from spirally rapidly out of control.
Vicki Vale's apartment, Downtown, Gotham City
The next morning was a sunny Sunday. Perfect for a stroll in the park. And that was exactly what the redhead journalist did.
Approximately one hour later she returned to her home. Upon entering the lobby of the antique building she caught someone's silhouette through her peripheral vision. She instinctively turned and saw a beautiful and elegant brunette wearing designer clothes and a pair of expensive sunglasses. The woman got closer leisurely – with a beige Lady Dior in tow – as if she was walking on a catwalk.
"Miss Vale? I'm afraid we haven't been formally introduced yet. My name's…"
She got no further when Vale interrupted her, "I know who you are, Miss Tate." The reporter was not surprised to see her, yet she glanced at the other woman with a certain distrust and caution.
Miranda smiled warily in return. "Great. That's gonna save us a lot of time."
"Let me guess… Wayne asked you to save him." It was not a question, rather a statement.
Vicki was holding the story until she could uncover the whole veracity behind that. However, it looked like Bruce Wayne decided to send his most faithful and powerful general to the battlefront.
"You cannot blame him for that," the executive said flatly, only then to add, "However, he'd kill me if he knew I'm here."
Actually Wayne had not asked for her to deal with Vicki, but she felt obliged to do some damage limitation and quick – if she intended to save herself.
Vicki allowed herself a hint of an ironic smile. "That's what I thought."
"Would you mind inviting to me to come up to your apartment. I believe this foyer isn't the most appropriate place to have our talk," Tate said, gesturing to the surrounding space.
Vicki nodded. "Fine. Come with me."
After a long, silent ride in the elevator they arrived at Vicki's floor, and then at her apartment. The host looked her guest over and motioned for her to get in.
"Nice place… Lots of… Space," Miranda chimed as she surveyed the living room, quickly cataloging its contents and taking mental notes of Vale's lifestyle.
"Yeah. Have a seat, please," Vicki offered, indicating the couches.
Miranda met her offer without further hesitation. "Thank you."
"May I offer you a glass of iced tea?"
"Yes, thanks," she politely accepted.
The readhead went to the kitchen and returned after a few minutes, bringing a tray with two glasses with tea. "Here." She waited until the other woman had made herself comfortable before taking a seat opposite her. "If you're here to try to threaten me then I think I should warn you threats have little effect on me." She did not try to dress the issue up in fancy finery.
"I didn't come here to threaten or blackmail you, Miss Vale."
"So, what do you want?"
For a moment something poignant and vulnerable flared in Miranda's sapphire gaze, but then it was gone.
"As you may have already realized, I'm aware of your meeting with Bruce and the things of which you two talked about. And I want to be clear. I'm only here to warn you about the grave consequences these baseless rumors would have on the lives of many if you publish your article."
"You're here for the sake of an ex-lover, the same guy who took a lot of money from you to invest in a megalomaniac project that nearly destroyed an entire city? The guy who dumped you when you're expecting his child?"
Miranda shrugged at Vale's misplaced comments, yet she did not bother to clarify such topics with the other woman.
"I'm here for the sake of my family, or at least the ones that still matter to me," she said with conviction, though her expression indicated she had little hope in the success of her request, but that it was important enough to her to try.
Vicki sympathized, but she would not be silenced. This story was too big to bury.
"Look, Miss Tate…" she began, only to be interrupted by the brunette.
"Miranda, please."
"Okay, Miranda," she drawled, leaning back in her chair and narrowing her eyes at Miranda while she spoke, "How well do you really know the father of your son?"
"Well enough to say that you're making a lot of assumptions. Does that answer your question?"
With a trace of hesitation, Vicki said, "Perhaps, but if there's proof, it won't take much."
"Without you finding reliable sources who can corroborate your claim and back you up, your story is nothing but a common myth. And I'm sure no publisher will agree to print that."
Vicki took this as a cue to finally put her cards on the table, "I have solid evidence of a connection between Bruce Wayne, or rather, Wayne Enterprises and Batman. I've talked to cops, witnesses, even a famous forensic psychiatrist – Dr. Hugo Strange –, who had been enlisted to profile Batman's real identity about ten years ago."
"And what was written in his report? That Batman was Bruce?" Miranda's left eyebrow was raised in a look of pure skepticism.
"Commissioner Gordon managed to shut the investigation down by declaring it was a dead-end. However, Dr. Strange accurately theorized that Batman must be motivated by a traumatic loss wrought by violent crime. He also deduced that Batman should be a man of wealth, a man that should have time and money left over to fully devote himself to fight crime."
"Believe me, Bruce isn't the only man in this entire city who had experienced a traumatic loss through a violent crime."
"He may not be, but he does have the means and the access to a large array of… How can I say? Warlike gadgets?"
Miranda chuckled a bit and looked away, a telling response.
"You're quite good at this. Look, let me reveal you one thing. Wayne Enterprises had focused on heavy weapons manufacturing for years. While the company is no longer defined as a defense contractor by any means, there is a considerable section of its resources devoted to developing non-lethal technology for both the military and police forces. What we manufacture, we sell. When an eccentric millionaire comes to buy one of our 'gadgets', he or she is not obligated to answer a questionnaire about its true intentions regarding the product."
"So you're telling me that Wayne Enterprises sold heavy weapons to some eccentric 'dude' and this guy could be Batman?"
"Batman could be anyone," Miranda merely replied.
"You don't really expect me to believe this, do you?" Vicki asked, wondering if the other woman would be as 'truthful' with her as Wayne had been.
"It's not important that you believe it, and to be honest I expect nothing like that from you." Miranda sighed, looking more defeated than anything else. "But hope? I guess I'm an irrepressible optimist, because I can't seem to give that commodity up entirely where I'm concerned."
"You surely got points for your faith in your ability to succeed. No wonder you're known as a shark in the business world."
"Guppies do not survive in my world," the brunette countered with a smirk.
"And in my world all that matters is the truth," the reporter objected, eyeing her suspiciously as she glanced aside, but she could tell the tycoon was thinking.
Finally, Miranda turned to face her, "You want the truth and I'm gonna give you the truth. On the condition that you keep it off record, and that you're able to understand that info like this would endanger the lives of everyone involved. Including yours."
Vicki kept staring at her in silence, a slightly contemptuous expression on her pretty face.
"Bruce's parents were murdered in the street right in front of him. You have no idea what's like to have the feeling of helplessness been accompanying you for years. I know that because my birth parents were taken from me the same way," she paused, swallowing the lump forming in her throat, and continued, "So when a man like Batman appeared on the scene, Bruce realized he should invest his emotional energy and his resources to somehow help a stranger to do what he couldn't ever do."
"Are you implying what I think you are?" Vicki asked. Her brows drawn together in a mix of curiosity and confusion.
"The nature of every single investment the company makes is in favor of a better world, Miss Vale. There was nothing more natural than providing the necessary resources for Batman's endeavor."
The journalist had the impression the more this woman was telling her, the less she knew. What did not help her at all was that Tate's serene and firm speech could tame the most ferocious beasts on earth. Still she made a massive effort to keep pushing her.
"What the other company's heads have to say to this?"
"To be blunt, they don't know about it. Except, of course, those who had to deal directly with this." Another half truth. Vicki would assume other members of the board were aware of this sort of 'project' involving the famous masked vigilante when, in reality, only Wayne, Fox and Tate knew the whole truth.
"Do you have any idea of how much power and control you guys placed in one's man hand?" Vicki asked her with that irritatingly arrogant confidence that never failed to get someone's goat.
"Is this supposed to be your opinion or your judgment?" Miranda retorted, raising her brows.
"Try not to rate every word I say, okay?"
"It's gonna be hard. But to answer your previous question, we're not the only one. Everyone in Gotham did. All of us who stood by and let scum take control of this city."
Vicki considered this for a time before issuing a terse inquiry, "Did you know Batman?"
"Yes, during Gotham's siege. He saved my life," Miranda replied candidly.
"Is he alive or dead?"
"I wouldn't know how to answer that."
"So, who is this guy, or these guys, who are out there dressed up like a giant bat?"
"Copycats. Followers. Clones. Androids. Who knows?" There was a hint of amusement in Miranda's voice, however, soon it turned serious. "But I remember something Bruce mentioned once. Batman told him that he wanted to inspire people by being a symbol of justice. A beacon of hope so that people could aspire to do better."
Vicki's eyes narrowed, trying to figure out if Miranda was winding her up.
"And he ironically induced the very worst in some individuals. Not to mention the whole farce involving Harvey Dent's crimes. Since when suppressing the truth is healthy?"
"Sometimes, a noble lie – that inspires hope – is more important than the truth in its ugly detail."
"A noble lie that was honed like a weapon by Bane and his army… Maybe you're deluding yourselves. Maybe he's not the good guy pretending to be the bad guy. Maybe he's the bad guy pretending to be the good guy. Did you ever think about that?"
"Every day," Miranda admitted, looking directly into her eyes.
"Batman is lucky to have someone like you to advocate in his favor. And so as Wayne, to fight his fights."
"Trust me, I don't want to get on the wrong side of any of them. Plus, I have a son in the equation," she paused, closing her eyes and breathing. "I can't afford the luxury of allowing anything that might put his integrity and well-being at risk. Not now that I've finally got him back in my life."
"And what is it you hope after everything you said? To drop it?"
"You wanted me to tell you the truth and I did. At this point I can't stop you from getting out there and spread this story. But I can surely call for a bit of your good judgment to make you realize that Batman's mission is bigger than the truth you're seeking. Ultimately, I'd ask you – as a concerned and zealous mother – to decide not to expose these 'secrets' in order to prevent a huge scandal from falling upon my family."
The journalist seemed to ponder Tate's words for a moment. If she was as unwilling to give in this time as she had been the last, they would be at an impasse. For now.
Without waiting for an answer, Miranda prompted, "So?"
Vicki considered it a minute. She did not know what to say. She was no stranger to this kind of manipulation, but she was deeply moved by what she had just heard. Miranda Tate had not show up at her home threatening her ‒ as Wayne had done ‒ or offering payment in return for her silence ‒ as it had often happened before. She simply had exposed her line of reasoning and trusted in Vicki's own judgment to decide what to do. She was giving her a choice. And the millionaire had strong arguments for her cause.
Despite all the crap the press published about these people, that woman seemed to be genuinely committed to protecting not only her kid, but the kid's father as well. Vale had no idea what actually happened between those three, but she was certain of one thing, they already was carrying a lot on their shoulder. Maybe more than she could possible imagine. What right she had to mess up with their lives now they finally seemed to adjusted them?
She finally gave a curt nod. "For now, you have my word that everything that was said in this room is going to stay in this room."
"Great. I can assure you've made the right choice."
"Secrets have a way of bleeding out, Miranda. If not through me, then through somebody else. Furthermore, I can't promise I won't change my mind in the future if I consider this to be necessary. Is that clear?"
Reluctantly, Miranda nodded and offered her hand. Adopting her trademark wry smile she said, "As clear as day."
Vicki shook her hand as they exchanged goodbyes, but as soon as Miranda reached the door she came to a sudden halt.
"Oh, dear, I totally forgot about that," she said turning on her heels with a grin. "Would you be interested in a covet worthy scoop?"
Minutes later, the executive left, leaving Vicki alone with her thoughts and – perhaps – a dilemma.
Monarch Theater, Park Row District, Gotham City
Hours later, on the other side of the town, Barbara Gordon and Damian Wayne stepped inside of the former theater.
Previously, at Barbara's invitation, the young lad had had lunch with her and the Commissioner. Then, after a vibrant meal at the Gordons' home, the teenagers decided to take a leisurely drive down through the city.
Barbara used to spend most of her vacations days at home, reading, surfing the net, or skyping her friends from Cleveland. But since they had become friends, Damian had her over several times. They were growing rather attached to each other, and Jim Gordon did not make any objection to his daughter's social life – most of the time. Everyone could tell he was really excited to have his little girl home, and he only deplored the fact that James Jr. was not there with them too.
The experienced cop was a very gentle, easy going kind of father and it was not usually hard to get him to agree with what her daughter wanted. Probably, because they spent too much time away from each other, Jim felt obliged to do the best he could, even though lots of things slipped through the cracks.
Sometimes he treated his daughter like a queen whose wishes should be satisfied without too much thought. Not that he turned her into a spoiled brat. Barbara was a pretty smart teenager who kept her feet on the ground, though with a slight 'i-do-what-i-want' tendency.
On this point, she and the young Wayne were very much alike. And despite his concern for his daughter be evident, Jim sensed she had found her match in that extraordinary and uncommon boy. Yet, Gordon had spent the whole lunch time dropping several hints to Damian, who merely let go with good humour. The teenager just felt the pressure when Gordon started to talk about his work and mentioned the copycats popping up around the city. For a flash of moment the kid thought Gordon had shown him up for what he really was.
"You used to live here?" Barbara asked, scanning the room with great concentration.
"Oh yeah," Damian replied with a displeased grimace. "It's a shame isn't it?"
"No! I mean this place is huge. Must have been pretty cool to live here," she prompted, trying to fix any misunderstanding on his part.
"Yep," he said flatly while examining their surroundings. That place brought back a flood of memories that he was still grappling with all his strength – some of them were good, other not so much.
Since his return from Europe, Damian used to come up here. However, he always avoided the main door, rather choosing enter through a hidden side entrance, which gave him direct access to the basement. This option was a way to avoid facing those rooms that had been so familiar to him in a not so distant past and yet they seemed quite far from his current way of life.
"How did you end up here?"
"I moved in when I got out from juvie. They sent me to St. Swithin's but I figured to escape from there. Then I find a way to get this place."
"Oh!" she let out a small cry as she stared in amazement at him.
He shrugged, only to add afterward with concern, "I bet if your dad heard that he'd never let you see me again."
"Oh, boy, at this point, I guess he already should have drawn up your entire rap sheet," she teased.
"Can't blame him. He's just looking out for you," he said as they reached a staircase leading to the basement. "I'm sure I'd do the same if I ever had a daughter."
"Relax. Dad doesn't need to be a cop to find out what the press is bringing forward merciless. Nevertheless he thinks you're fine."
"Or perhaps he thinks you can easily handle a former delinquent."
"Too true. And he knows I know what kind of player you are. I'm too smart for your kind."
"Wow! Now what kinda player am I?" he asked and flashed her his signature grin, the smile that would have most girls at lifting their skirts and spreading their legs for him.
Kill me now! Barb shouted in thought.
"Uh, oh, yeah… Whatever." She looked down, afraid he would see her blushing. "So, why did you bring me here? Just to hang out..."
"There's something I want to show you," he said cryptically.
The tour lead them to some kind of garage workshop, where a motorcycle was sitting out from. Barb's eyes went wide.
"What is it? It's beautiful," she said, thrilled. Her hands tentatively touching the vehicle as if it was something very precious.
"Well, you told me you got a crush for motorbikes. I've thought you'd like to meet this baby I've been tuning."
"You're modifying an Erik Buell? Dude, it's a sacrilege!"
Damian could not help but laugh at her indignation expression. He followed Barb's gaze and tilted his head.
"Would like to gimme a hand?"
"Say what?" Barb was staring at him, her mouth agaping hollow.
"You know, helping me with the upgrade and all. Unless you have something more interesting to do till the end of Summer break. My schedule has been a jumbled mess lately, but how about tomorrow afternoon? Are you free?"
"I'm always free."
"Is this a yes?"
"Yes! It's a yes squared, in all caps, with an exclamation mark and a smiley-faced emoticon."
"Okay." Damian smiled and checked his phone clock. "I better get you back home now."
"So soon?" she said, a little disappointed. "And I thought I could go for a ride on this nice beauty."
"Not a chance."
She pouted a little and he felt the need to add, "At least not right now. Besides if I want the commish to let me take you out again tomorrow I better get you home safely. Maybe another time."
She cracked a defiant smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
Damian pushed a strand of hair from her face, tilted her chin up and leaned in slightly. Her breath caught in her throat and she felt a nervous knot in her stomach. He stared at her for what seemed like forever.
"I know you will, red," he simply said and turned toward the exit, leaving her with a bitter taste of frustration.
Wayne Manor, Palisades, outer Gotham City limits
"Alfred? Alfred?" Bruce's voice echoed down through the walls of the enormous house as he rummaged through the place in search of his butler.
Alfred spotted him from the other end of the foyer. "Yes, Master Bruce?"
"Hey, there you are," Wayne replied and walked toward the older man, looking him over from top to bottom with amusement. "What's up with the fancy fancy?"
"Have you, sir, forgotten today is my night off?" Alfred responded, somewhat embarrassed. At his employer's scrutiny, he felt the need to add, "What? Contrary to popular opinion, I do have a life."
Bruce could not help but allow a wide smile splitting his face. "So you're human after all."
"Oh...uh... I have a date."
"And who might be the lucky lady that are gonna be graced with the honor of your company?"
"An old friend of mine."
"Humn, so much secrecy…" the billionaire teased.
"Secrets are a virtual prerequisite in this house, don't you think?" Alfred lashed out.
As if possible Bruce's smile got even wider, "By any chance she would be a certain doctor who just happen to get back in town?"
Alfred shrugged. He could not believe Leslie was back – and more beautiful than ever. All he wanted was to make up for lost time, and this time, nothing and nobody was going to stop him until he got what he had longed for.
"If you already know the answer, why are you asking then?"
"And why do you seem so nervous?"
"Is it obvious?" the butler snorted.
Wayne patted him on the back and said, "Cheer up, Alfred. Just be the gentleman I know you are and things will be fine, I am sure of it."
His words seemed to have calmed Alfred down a bit. The elder sighed and said, "Very well, sir."
"Before you go I need a little help."
"How I can be of assistance?"
"I need you to get me my mom's engagement ring. I searched through the safe but I couldn't recognize it."
The loyal servant looked at him, his eyebrows pinching together. "Engagement ring? Is this some sort of out of season April Fool's prank?"
"I proposed to Miranda last night," Bruce prompted, trying to muster a smile.
"Oh my goodness! So you are finally ready to say goodbye to bachelorhood? I believe congratulations are in order, sir," Alfred said as he glanced at him in awe.
"That depends," Bruce drawled as a fresh tide of shame washed through him. He did not asked Miranda to marry him. He simply presented his terms – it was his way or the highway. "I guess she wants some time to think about it…"
Alfred looked confused, then a moment of realization came to him. "Has she refused you?"
"She didn't say 'yes' or 'no' yet."
"Obviously, since you didn't' bother to give her a ring to start. I truly hope you have a plan to fix this miscalculation."
The tart note in Alfred's remark did not surprised Wayne. He knew the tone, the one Alfred used to use on him almost every night when Batman returned to the cave. It was, more often than not, a paternal tone, and there were times when Bruce savored it.
There were times when he hated it from his core.
"I'm trying to fix it. With your help, I might. All I know is that I do intend to marry her as soon as possible. I find now that I have a future to look forward to, and I'm anxious for it to begin."
"You have no idea how much overwhelmed I am hearing this," the butler conceded, shooting Bruce a warm look. "Come then. We need to pull out the big guns for that. Nothing like a spectacular ring to make your intentions known."
Cave beneath Wayne Manor, Palisades, outer Gotham City limits
Minutes later, Bruce was listening to the falling of the water echoing toward him down the cavern's natural exit while he stared at small black box on his hand.
Flipping open the box, the piece's shimmer flashed to life. It was a white gold ring with an old European cut diamond in a hexagonal frame which was encircled by six diamond accents in triangular frames.
Alfred was right. Bruce recognized he was striking out in that situation. Miranda was a stubborn and proud woman, and making one mistake could make a difference between getting his achievement and just ruining everything.
Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow he would give her a deadline and would offer her a family jewel as a token of goodwill.
Putting the box aside, he decided to check out some surveillance video before going out on patrol. Soon one particular footage got his attention. It had been done in that morning and showed Miranda leaving Vicki Vale's condo.
Bruce froze the image and stared thoughtfully at it as he tried to phantom why Miranda had gone there. He did not like the angry little suspicion that was growing. Had she made some sort of agreement with the snoopy reporter – information in exchange of being left alone by the press? Had she – in a fit of pure resentment – simply decided to throw everything up in the air and tell the entire truth to Vicki? Or had she, indeed, been Vale's secret source the whole time? Was she involved up to her pretty little neck after all?
He had trapped her inside a four wall blackmail, just to find out for certain, but he had a sudden cold, furious feeling that he was not going to like the results worth a damn.
As usual he found himself questioning everything he believed. For he was face-to-face with a breathtaking passion – for a woman who was as guilty as sin… He felt it was like neither of them seemed to be entirely sure about the other person, as though they both were playing a game of shadows.