Saoirse added three spoons of sugar to her lumpy looking coffee and gave the black contents a disheartening swirl. She took a sip, happy in the knowledge that the gone-off taste of the beans was successfully masked by the liberal amounts of sugar she'd added.
'Trying to rot your teeth?' John asked as he slid into the opposite side of the booth.
'You're late, officer.' Saoirse commented, bewildered by her gloomy tone.
'Sorry about that… I had a date.'
'Anyone I know?' Saoirse asked, knowing Blake would say no.
'Actually… I was with Lisbeth.' Saoirse just managed to hang onto the coffee threatening to spew from her mouth onto John's spotless navy uniform.
'L-Lisbeth? My Lisbeth?'
'Yes.' He said, looking very smug.
'When did this happen?'
'Well, after our bizarre little introduction, I asked her out. And judging from the success of our previous few dates, we seem to be getting along just fine.' He said with an attempt at an innocent shrug. His smugness however, still permeated through this gesture. After the initial shock, Saoirse found that she greatly approved of the match, two sensible people in a relationship together. It made sense, a police officer and a doctor. A vigilante and the daughter of a mafia leader on the other hand…
'So, how are things between you and the Batman?' John asked, achieving a state of nonchalance which had until now escaped him.
'E-Excuse me?' Saoirse spluttered.
'You know; the relationship between you and Bruce… who is Batman. Information which isn't exactly news to your ears I'm sure.' Saoirse could only stare. 'Oh Saoirse please, the rest of Gotham might be oblivious but not me. I figured it out some time ago; it was the only conclusion which could possibly fit. Who had access to the funds and technology to create the Tumbler, the Pod, the Suit? Everything started getting crazy when he arrived back from his seven year tour of the world. Coincidence? No such thing exists in a city where a masked man runs around fighting crime...' Saoirse's heart was hammering in her chest; she couldn't believe that John knew. Bruce hadn't told him… how had he deduced these facts for himself? After taking a thoughtful swig of coffee –and immediately regretting this choice– she wondered whether John was searching for her to confirm his confident accusation.
'So you think Bruce is the Batman?' She asked drily, as if this were all part of some hilarious joke.
'Yes.' He replied bluntly.
'And I supposed you derived his motivation for becoming the Batman from his strict moral code? You know; the one he uses when he becomes inebriated with drink and screws around more than a lion surrounded by a pride of lionesses?'
'You're very loyal to keeping his façade unquestioned.' John said thoughtfully. 'But I'm not fooled, so you can drop the pretence. I've known for years.'
'And how have you known for years?' Saoirse asked exasperatedly.
'I met him when I was a child… his face told me everything.' He said simply.
'His face…?'
'Yes. He had the same expression I did. A carefully arranged mask to keep the rage bubbling just beneath the surface. That sort of anger… one which permeates your entire being… it doesn't just go away. You need to channel it. I chose police work. You chose boxing. Bruce however, his ideas were of a much grander scale, he wanted to make the monster useful, to allow it to run free but walking the path of justice at the same time. It's quite an elegant solution if you ask me.'
'I take it you're a fan of the Batman then?' Saoirse asked sarcastically, still not admitting anything.
'Of course. He causes quite the controversy in the office, I assure you.'
'Oh, I can imagine.'
'You're still not going to admit it, are you?'
'Admit what?'
'That Bruce is Batman.'
'The notion that we're in a relationship is ludicrous enough.' She said with a tired attempt at shrugging her shoulders.
'Saoirse please, you didn't see the way he took care of you during and after your operation but I did. That wasn't the great Bruce Wayne lusting after some fiery employee, it was the worst kind of love.'
'The worst kind?'
'Unrequited.' Saoirse's stomach did a clumsy belly-flop at this word.
'Christ, that sounds like romcom smut.' John chuckled at this, always taken aback by Saoirse's blunt outbursts.
'I suppose there's a less "gooey" word I could employ.'
'I should hope so…' She took a deep breath and plunged into a confession. 'Fine. Yes, Bruce and I are in a relationship.' She muttered, making quotation marks around the last word.
'And you know he moonlights as a masked vigilante…?'
'He does not –'
'Saoirse please –'
'No John! Don't you "Saoirse please" me!' Saoirse spat, feeling horribly vulnerable in this conversation.
'Saoirse, I'm not going to arrest him! I admire the man for what he does; his stance against crime hasn't been seen in Gotham throughout my or my dad's lifetime!' He said while pounding his fist on the table, threatening to overturn Saoirse's now cold coffee.
'If you already know, why do you need me to confirm your belief?' Saoirse hissed.
'I don't need your confirmation Saoirse; I just want to know if you know.' He said with a slight shrug. Saoirse observed John for a moment, taking in his intense, slightly hungry expression. Yet there was truth to what he was saying, in her gut Saoirse knew this. She'd worked with John long enough to understand his beliefs where justice was concerned and Batman was right up there with any of his other idols. She stirred her coffee once again, having no intention of drinking, but trying to find a few more precious seconds before answering him.
'Yeah…' She murmured while nodding her head. 'I know.' Those three words signalled their shared knowledge of Gotham's greatest secret; the face behind their masked guardian.
'I knew you did.' John muttered, careful to keep his voice low as a couple slipped into an adjacent booth. 'I knew it!' He whispered, stifling his excitement by taking a deep gulp of his coffee. He swallowed and regarded Saoirse for a moment, a strange expression pulling at his features.
'What?' Saoirse asked, feeling mightily self-conscious.
'Oh nothing… you're only dating the Batman. The Caped Crusader, the Dark Knight, Gotham's Guardian. That must be…odd.'
'It won't be odd for much longer.' Saoirse muttered, shoving her coffee away from her.
'Is he planning on quitting?' John asked; all traces of amusement stripped from his voice.
'No.' Saoirse said coldly.
'Then why –'
'Because I'm leaving him.' Saoirse confessed to the stained table, unable to meet John's astonished gaze.
'Why?'
'Why? WHY?' Saoirse asked incredulously. 'John… you fucking know about my past seeing as you happen to be the sharpest bloody officer Gotham has ever produced! So in your head could you perhaps deduce my logic behind such a manoeuvre?' She snarled. John looked taken aback by this aggressive response, placing his hands up in mock surrender.
'Didn't mean to touch a nerve…' He muttered, grimacing as he swallowed some cold coffee. 'Are you leaving him or the city?' He asked. Saoirse could only stare at John, amazed by the way he could so easily phrase a question in order for someone to perfectly articulate an opinion.
'Both.' Saoirse murmured.
'Well, you're leaving Gotham because the sting operation is an absolute mess ever since the Joker started spreading his chaos around. You're also leaving because you no longer have any family left which you care about. Then there's Bruce… as Batman, he is of course unable to leave this city. So by you stating that you're leaving implies that he is not enough of an incentive for you to remain by his side.' John finished his diagnosis and folded his hands neatly in his lap.
'Christ on a bike, I sound like a spineless bitch.' Saoirse said.
'It would only be spineless if you left and didn't tell him.' John said with a shrug.
'Ugh this is going to be an ugly day…' Saoirse said, her head sinking into her hands.
'You might need something stronger than coffee.'
'It's not even midday yet!'
'On a day like this, your main concern is socially acceptable times to drink alcohol? Really?'
'Old habits die hard…' Saoirse muttered while carelessly throwing money onto the table and roughly shoving her body towards the door.
'Good luck!' John called from the booth, meaning every letter of the clichéd saying.
The ride towards Wayne Manor had been one of the most unpleasant experiences of Saoirse's life. She wasn't used to knowing in advance a decision which would cause so much grief to both parties. Knowing it was her move only made the snakes in her stomach writhe more enthusiastically. She clumsily dismounted from the bike; her hands numb from her careless lack of gloves and stood in front of the huge door to Wayne Manor, never feeling more intimidated by the grand entrance. Taking a few deep breaths which did nothing to steady her stuttering heart, she raised her hand and knocked solemnly on the door. Alfred was soon greeting her, everything familiar except his sober expression.
'Is everything alright Alfred?' Saoirse asked, suddenly filled with fear that some physical harm had befallen his charge.
'Not yet Ms Nolan. But after your visit, I'm sure Master Wayne will be quite inconsolable.' He said quietly. Guilt squirmed in Saoirse's intestines at this candid but piercing remark, Alfred's pure words cut deeper than John's earlier deduction. 'You'll find Master Wayne in the piano room, brunch has just been served.' He added before heading off into another part of the manor, leaving Saoirse alone to find her way to the piano room. Alfred had never abandoned her at the door and this gesture left her feeling deeply unsettled as she climbed the magnificent staircase. Much sooner than she would have liked, she had strode into the piano room. Seeing Bruce lazily reclined in a chair, a thoughtful look replaced with one of delight at her arrival produced a ghostly hand which entered Saoirse's stomach where it squeezed and twisted her intestines.
'I wasn't expecting you.' Bruce said with a quirked smile, bending down to peck her gently on the lips. As his lips touched hers, Saoirse was seized with a reckless longing; this was to be their last kiss, she didn't want it to be some meaningless peck. With an aggression which surprised both parties, she selfishly indulged for a moment, pulling his body to hers and locking lips with him in such a ferocious battle that she ended up drawing blood from his lower lip. Gasping for air, she let go of his shirt and staggered backwards, leaving a bewildered and suspicious Bruce sucking his lip dry. Heart racing wildly and pupils dilated to an almost stoned state, Saoirse tried to gather her wits together and master the sudden urge to rip the clothes from Bruce's body. She needed to be strong; she needed to do the right thing by her. With some difficulty, she managed to keep the thought that sex would only make this situation worse at the forefront of her mind, leaving her raging hormones defeated.
'What was that?' Bruce asked, his initial pleasure at her interest descending into cold suspicion. Saoirse tried to calm her breathing, her lungs kept taking irregular gulps of air, flushing her cheeks much to her disgust.
'A kiss…?' Saoirse said innocently.
'That wasn't a kiss…. That was…' As realisation flickered into life, Bruce sat down in an armchair opposite the piano, the reality crashing around him and threatening to deal him physical blows. 'That was goodbye.' He finished in a quiet hum, placing a finger against his lip and examining the crimson drop attached to the soft flesh. Saoirse didn't know how to respond, how could she speak the rehearsed words which she didn't believe? She couldn't tell him that her feelings had petered out, that premise was severely undermined by her tearing into his lip…
'You're leaving?' He asked, this time his voice adopting a slight child-like quality.
'I don't want to.' Saoirse said truthfully.
'Then why –'
'Because I have to Bruce.' Saoirse whispered gently, wanting to reach out, to run her hands along his powerful shoulders, to tangle her fingers in his hair, to lock lips with him for one more time… She of course did no such thing, keeping a ten feet distance from the man who messed so unwittingly with her hormones.
'Have to… but don't want to. Enlighten me.' He commanded; his eyes now stony and defensive.
'Caoimhe's gone… the sting operation is a laughable offence, my father is still running things like always and will never be caught and the Joker is determined to capture me. What is there for me to stay for?' She asked quietly.
'If you still love me then I'm a reason.' Bruce said with brutal honesty. Saoirse felt the hand move from her intestines to her heart where it slowly began to squeeze tighter and tighter. Feeling she would choke on supressed emotion if she didn't touch him, she approached and clambered onto his armchair. Slightly taken aback by the red-haired woman straddling him, Bruce's cold, indifferent disposition began to thaw. Saoirse placed both hands on either side of Bruce's face, her thumbs tracing circles against his well-shaped features, forcing him to look into her eyes.
'I'd have been gone weeks ago, after Caoimhe was reunited with her mother if it hadn't been for you. I love you Bruce Wayne but no amount of love can make me stay where there is nothing for me. Nothing for you. Nothing for either of us.' She bent forwards and allowed her lips to trace against his forehead. 'You've already given your body to Gotham; you don't need to give her your soul too.' Saoirse whispered, hating the tear which scalded a path down her left cheek.
'That won't happen.' Bruce said stoically.
'How can you possibly know that?' Saoirse asked, pushing herself away so she could observe him.
'Because I won't let it happen.' Saoirse knew it was pointless, useless, beyond hope but she tried anyway.
'Come with me.' She whispered, placing delicate, butterfly kisses beneath both of his eyes. His eyes closed in a dreamy fashion at her caress and goosebumps prickled her skin as his hands travelled the length of her spine. 'Come with me Bruce, we can start afresh in another state, another country, another continent. Just the two of us. We wouldn't need anyone else.' She said coaxingly, her hands cupping his face once more as she painted this image for him. 'We'll be happy together; we could have a chance of a future, of a full life.' She hastily swiped away a tear. 'There's nothing but death for us here.' She murmured, trying her best to keep the pleading from her voice. 'You've done more than enough, you've done too much. Don't ask more of yourself… just come with me.' Saoirse's voice broke on the last sentence and it was with great strength that she fought back the wave of emotion fighting to overwhelm her. Bruce opened his eyes and stared into the depths of those blue eyes he had studied with such determination. The thick eyelashes were smeared with teardrops; the ocean-blue iris radiant among the network of expanded blood capillaries. He ran a hand through his most favourite hair colour, allowing for the last time to feel the silky texture of the fiery strands run through his fingers.
'I will not desert Gotham in her hour of need.' Bruce said, breaking any hopes which had been spiralled by Saoirse's passionate begging. She nodded for a moment, allowing the reality which she had been expecting but not desiring to sink in. After a minute of silence she leant forwards and kissed him softly, gently, her top lip caressing his in a sinfully sweet manner.
'I know you won't.' She whispered, her lips occasionally brushing against his as she spoke. 'The man I fell in love with would never abandon his principals.' She admitted, a few more tears streaking her reddening face. Bruce silenced anymore miserable thoughts with another kiss, a soft, delicate tender thing, the most carefully placed kiss of his life. Their lips parted, the spell broke and Saoirse slowly withdrew from Bruce's comforting and familiar body. She squeezed his hand gently and with a fleeting, devastated smile, she turned and left the piano room, shattering their relationship as she closed the door.
