A/N Guess what? Bruce Wayne sent me chocolates last week! Ok, they were actually a belated birthday present with a note that said I should pretend they were from Bruce Wayne. It's amazing how much better chocolate tastes when you pretend it's from a hot billionaire.
Many thanks to my bat-beta, IcyWaters, who saved this chapter from a lot of particularly silly typos.
Disclaimer I'm running out of ideas for interesting disclaimers. Next chapter, I'm going to steal one from somebody else's story.
Chapter 37
With friends like you, who needs enemies?
- Paul Temple, Season 4, Episode 4
Henry Judas was not a man who frightened easily. For over a decade he had been bluffing his way through Gotham society with a combination of "old boy" charm and a network of boldfaced lies, filled with contempt for the easy targets the rich and supposedly powerful offered him. But now, sitting across the desk from the pale man who held Gotham in as much contempt as did Judas himself, the white-haired con man was terrified, all the way to the center of his flabby being.
"Last night, Judas," Gatsby said softly. "You promised me I would have the boy by last night."
"If everyone else had done their part of the job you would have," Judas blustered. "I told you we should have taken care of Gordon before…" He broke off, his voice dying beneath Gatsby's unblinking gaze.
"Where and how I choose to deal with Lieutenant Gordon does not concern you. But how well you do your job is very much your concern."
"Look…I'm sorry. It was just a run of bad luck."
"Luck is for useless fools," Gatsby said coldly. "This is your last chance, Judas. I'm certain you don't want to join our late associate Mr. Williams – wherever he is."
Judas gripped his knees, to keep his hands from trembling. "This evening. I'll have him by this evening."
"That's good, Mr. Judas. We're finishing this thing tonight. Whether you're finished with it, is entirely up to you."
- - - - - -
Bruce was in his office by nine o'clock the next morning. He'd met briefly with Gordon the night before to get the details on the "Bruce Wayne framed" situation, then headed out for his usual patrol. But the streets had been quiet – almost eerily so. It was as if the pulse of the city had paused, expectant of a breaking storm. At last he had given in and returned home, rechecked on Dick and Rachel, and gone to bed.
"I thought you might want to see these, sir."
Bruce examined the two magazines Alfred handed. They were both notorious Gotham gossip sheets and both bore pictures of himself and Rachel on the front. The headlines read "A Royal Wedding: The Prince of Gotham's Secret Engagement" and "Is Bruce Ready to Bring Home a Bride?"
Bruce shrugged and tossed the lurid things on the desk. "I can't say I expected anything different. Some receptionist probably called it in five minutes after Rachel told the story."
"It's going to be messy work denying it," Alfred predicted.
"It might almost be easier to stage a break-up," Bruce agreed, while a tiny little voice in the back of his head whispered that wouldn't it be nice if they didn't have to do anything about it at all?
There was a knock on the door and Nurse Cherry appeared, looking cheerful despite her all night vigil.
"Good morning, Ms. Ames," Bruce greeted. "How's Dick?"
"Still asleep, but I woke him twice during the night, and he was always able to tell me his name and where he was. I think he'll be just fine," Nurse Cherry chirped.
"Thank you, Ms. Ames," Bruce said with genuine gratitude. "Do I pay you directly or send it to the hospital?"
"The hospital will bill you." She held out her hand and he shook it. "It was lovely to meet you, Mr. Wayne. And may I wish all the best to you and Miss Dawes?"
"Actually…" began Bruce.
"It will be so wonderful for Richard to have a mother figure. And he obviously adores her. Well, I'd best be on my way. Got to catch some sleep. I've got a recovering bypass patient tonight," she added confidentially.
"Goodbye, Ms. Ames. Thank you again."
When she was gone he looked helplessly at Alfred. "You heard me try!"
"You might have tried a little harder," the butler remarked with asperity. "I'll go and see about some breakfast."
Bruce picked one of the tabloids back up and with a sort of morbid curiosity flipped to the article.
"What's so funny?" Rachel asked.
He looked up at her. "Good morning, Miss Dawes. Or should I say, Mrs. Wayne-to-be?" He handed her the magazine.
Rachel uttered a deep and heartfelt groan. "Bruce…I'm so sorry. I didn't think that…I didn't think."
"It's going to be a lot worse for you," Bruce said matter-of-factly. "You're the one with the serious, professional image to maintain."
Rachel groaned again. "Don't remind me. Do you think anyone will actually believe us when we tell them it's all a mistake?"
He shrugged. "Maybe. But I have a suspicion that the more determined reporters would just see it as a brush-off and become even more determined to get the 'real' story."
"What are we…" She broke and shook her head. "No, what am I going to do. And I'm going to have to tell the truth. I'll just say that I was so worried about Dick, that I told a silly lie. Everybody's seen While You Were Sleeping. They'll believe me."
"Or, we could just say that you had a mental aberration and the moment you came to your senses you dumped me."
His offer elicited a small smile from her. "Thanks, Bruce, but I made this mess; I'll clean it up."
Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the emotional trauma, or the persistence of that little voice, but Bruce suddenly found himself moving so that the expanse of the desk was no longer between them. "Rachel, do we have to clean it up?"
She stared at him, speechless and shocked that he had finally put into words the shadowy thing that hovered between them. Then, as if she wanted to be absolutely sure there was no misunderstanding, she whispered, "What are you suggesting?"
"What do you think I'm suggesting?" he whispered back, wild hope beating its wings against his ribcage because she hadn't pulled away. He placed cautious hands on her shoulders and drew her closer. "Love me. Live with me. Marry me. Rachel." The last word was a whispered caress against her mouth, and she melted into his arms, her lips clinging to his. He kissed her hard, fierce with happiness that the improbable thing had happened. Was happening.
Sharp pain shot through him as she shoved hard against his bruised chest, stepping backward so fast that she tripped and had to catch herself on the edge of the desk. "No! I won't let you do this, Bruce."
"Do what?" he asked, numb with shock.
She turned her back on him, her arms wrapped tightly across her stomach. "Did you go out last night?" she demanded, her voice shrill.
Staring at her rigid back, he finally began to understand. "Damned if I did," he said softly, "and damned if I didn't. That's it, isn't it Rachel? Because it's never enough for you. I loved you," he said slowly, "even back then, when I had no idea who I was and the only goal in my life was revenge. But that wasn't enough. So I left until I understood who I was and had a reason to get up every morning, and I came back to Gotham a better man. But that wasn't enough either, was it? What do you want from me, Rachel? Do I have to sit in heaven and dispense justice with passionless equality? Become a god and deny my humanity? Will that be enough?"
She spun around, angry now and crying. "Bruce. You can't raise a child and be Batman."
"Because you won't let me?"
"Because you can't," she repeated, swiping an angry hand across her wet cheeks. "I'm going home."
He watched her go with a curiously calm feeling. Pain would come later, he knew, but at the moment there was a sense of relief that he finally knew where he stood.
The phone rang. Unthinkingly, Bruce picked it up. "Hello?"
"Mr. Wayne? This is Fox. Turn on the news."
"And in breaking news," the morning news anchor announced, "IRS investigations are underway at Wayne Enterprises to look into charges of massive fraud and possible money laundering. And in addition to that, it seems that company president and majority stockholder Bruce Wayne is embroiled in a battle with the state for the custody of his young ward, Richard Grayson."
The screen cut to a shot of Henry Judas standing on the front steps of the Gotham courthouse, making a statement to a crowd of reporters. "We've beenlooking into Richard's case for some time, but recent events involving an accident makes it imperative that we give the situation an immediate reevaluation."
A reporter in the crowd shouted, "Mr. Judas, do you think it suspicious that Wayne's relationship with chief district attorney Dawes was made public just before you made a legal move against him?"
"I wouldn't like to comment on that at this time."
"Mr. Wayne?" Fox's voice sounded in Bruce's ear.
"I'm here."
"Bennett is on his way over."
"Thanks."
"Don't worry about the company, Mr. Wayne. I'll take care of it. You just take care of your boy."
"I will. Thank you, Mr. Fox." Bruce hung up the phone, and turned to find Alfred at his elbow.
"What did Lucius say?"
Bruce ignored the question. "Where's Somerville?"
"I haven't seen her yet this morning."
Bruce was out of the room before Alfred had even finished speaking. Bounding up two flights of stairs, he arrived at Somerville's bedroom door and pounded on it. A moment later she flung it open, still knotting the cord of her plaid bathrobe. "Mr. Wayne, what's wrong?"
"Hadn't you heard? Judas is taking the case back in front of the judge."
"Really," she said slowly.
"Yes," he snapped. "Really. It made top headlines on this morning's news."
"I had nothing to do with it," she said flatly. "Judas hasn't said a word to me."
"Is that so?"
"Believe what you like, but remember that I will be your strongest ally in the courtroom. Or your worst adversary." She abruptly turned away and walked over to open the cabinet that concealed a flat screen TV. Turning it on, she watched in silence for a few minutes. "So," she said at last, "they've made their move. I wonder why it couldn't wait two more days?"
"I thought you might know."
She looked at him impatiently. "Wayne, you're either going to have to trust me or kill me. Do you think this has anything to do with our finding the formula? How about that lawyer who was there, Bennett. Are you certain he works only for you?"
He smiled bitterly. "I hope so. He's on his way over here for a council of war."
"Oh." Somerville flipped the television off. "If you wouldn't mind leaving," she said pointedly, "I'd rather not go into battle in my pajamas."
Bruce started to pull the door shut behind him, but paused as she called, "Oh, Wayne? If you do decide to kill me, be a dear and dispose of my body in a warmer climate. The Gulf of Mexico would be fine."
He shut the door very gently and thought exclusively in Chinese all the way down the stairs.
- - - - - -
"We believe that gross negligence led to Richard's accident, your honor," Judas declared. "We want to remove him to a safer environment immediately."
"Your honor, it was an accident. Not even the best parents can keep a minute by minute vigil on their children," Bennett protested.
Judge Farr glanced from one side of the table to the other, then looked straight down to the woman who sat across from him. "Miss Somerville, I think you are most able to judge this situation. Was this accident caused by negligence?"
"As far as I had been able to observe, Richard was given adequate supervision and guidance. He is, however, an active little boy with a head full of ideas, and as Mr. Bennett said, unless you keep a guard on a child, it is impossible to watch them all the time. Actually, I'm much more interested in knowing why Mr. Judas asked for this hearing without consulting me, since, as you said, your honor, I am best suited to make a judgment call."
"Justice Farr, the reason I did not consult Miss Somerville was that I had reason to believe she was no longer an impartial judge. In fact, it was through her influence that Richard's tutor was discharged, leaving the boy with that much more time on his own."
"It's true that I urged Mr. Wayne to reconsider Miss Tracy's employment because she was a poor teacher. In fact, I believe her reckless educational practices led directly to Richard's believing that he could fly. I have reported her to the city board of education and they are in the process of reviewing her credentials."
"The boy jumped from a second story balcony wearing a monstrous pair of wings. How is it that no one saw him go up there?"
"Wayne Manor is a very large house. And as soon as the accident occurred, Richard was given immediate medical attention. It is not as if he was left in suffering silence. Judge, I see no reason why this hearing was called today, instead of at the end of the full two weeks as was originally agreed."
"Your honor, Miss Somerville is glibly gilding a very serious deficit in Richard's care. But part of this is my fault. I should never have given her this assignment."
Somerville leaned forward. "What are you insinuating, Mr. Judas?"
Judas refused to look at her, keeping his focus on the judge. "A single woman, living in the home of a notorious man like Mr. Wayne? I blame myself."
"So you suggest that Mr. Wayne seduced me so that I would lie for him in court?" Somerville's voice held a mixture of incredulity, amusement, and disgust. Bruce was suddenly and overwhelmingly grateful for the ugly suits, the thick glasses, the sour grapes expression – every detail that so clearly marked his hated houseguest as not the victim of a seduction.
"Your honor, this is absurd," she pleaded. "If Mr. Judas's evidence consists of taking cheap shots at my character, then I see no further purpose to this hearing."
"I am inclined to agree, Mr. Judas," Farr said. "May I remind you that you appointed Miss Somerville arbiter of this case? Unless you can offer concrete proof of her unsuitability, I am going to adjourn, until the agreed upon trial period is over."
There was a sudden, hunted look to Judas's expression, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "No, your honor. It seems I called this meeting precipitately. I apologize."
"Very well." Judge Farr turned his eyes back on Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, I believe your engagement to District Attorney Rachel Dawes was announced this morning?"
"Yes, your honor," Bruce said quietly.
"I have had the privilege of working with Counselor Dawes and know that she is an excellent attorney and a fine person. I wish you both the very best."
"Thank you."
Farr left the room, and the lawyers gathered up their respective paperwork. Judas fussed obviously with his brief case, while Somerville sat watching him, smiling sardonically. "Henry, I knew you lacked imagination, but is this the best you could come up with?"
"I'm…this isn't over," he snapped, but his voice lacked conviction. Not meeting anyone's eyes, he hurried out of the room, closely followed by his lawyer.
Bruce finally allowed himself to slump down in his chair and blew out a long, slow breath of relief.
"Miss Somerville, you were magnificent," Bennett congratulated.
She smiled. "I know. Although…" the smile faded into a thoughtful frown. "Judas was in here half cocked. He wasn't prepared to fight this thing, so why did he insist on it?"
"Who knows? But the important thing is, Judge Farr is now on our side."
A security guard appeared in the door of the conference room. "Judge Farr told me to warn you that there's a crowd outside. If you like, I can have your car brought around to the side entrance."
Bruce nodded and tossed him the keys, then pulled his vibrating phone out of his pocket. "Hello?...Yes, Mr. Fox…Much better than expected…thirty minutes?" He glanced at his watch. "I can be there." He closed the phone and said, "I need to be at Wayne Tower in half an hour for a press conference."
"I actually have some work to do here, so I'll just catch a cab when I'm done," Bennett decided.
"And if you would be so obliging as to call a taxi for me, I think that my presence at the press conference would not be a good idea," Somerville added.
Bruce obliged, and a minute later the three had gone their separate ways.
- - - - - -
The press conference was held in one of the rooms usually reserved for small business banquets. Fox stood behind the podium and gave a short statement, affirming that they were cooperating with the investigators in every possible way and hinting that the alleged crimes had taken place before the current management had come into power. "We will have a general question and answer session tomorrow," Fox finished, and led the way off the platform. Bruce and the two board members who had been standing behind the chairman, followed.
Bruce shook hands with the board members, and then followed Fox into his office to receive a briefing on everything that he had missed because of the custody hearing. All in all, things on the corporate front were not as bleak as they might have been. Stock, inevitably, was dropping, but the board under Fox's leadership was thus far holding steady.
"Do you think it's just coincidence, Mr. Wayne, that these two items hit the news on the same day – the custody battle and the company investigation?"
"It's a pretty big coincidence to swallow," Bruce admitted. "That box last night explained pretty well why someone is so desperate to get to Dick, and defaming Wayne Enterprises is one more way to destroy my credibility."
Fox nodded, looking doubtful. "That's certainly one way to look at it."
"What other way is there?"
"I…" the older man shook his head. "I think I'm probably seeing things. Let me sleep on it, and I'll fill you in tomorrow."
"All right. I'll see you in the morning, then."
Bruce was halfway home when his phone rang. "Hello?" he asked, stopping at a red light, squinting against the sunset. At four o'clock in deep winter, the light was fading fast.
Alfred's tense voice said, "Sir, I can't find Master Dick anywhere."
Not again. "Are you sure?" he demanded, his voice rough.
"His outside things are all here so he can't have gone out, and he's not anywhere in the house. He's gone, sir. And so is Miss Somerville."
To Be Continued…
A/N Fellow bat-fans, I am pleased to announce that we are now officially at the beginning of the final climax! Let the peasants rejoice! (insert fanfare of trumpets, thunderous cheering, genial rioting, etc.)
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