They returned home from the hospital late in the evening. Though she had been pronounced as not having a concussion, she was severely dehydrated and low on electrolytes. For two long hours she lay in a hospital bed on an IV to replenish fluids and much needed nutrients. During that time she'd tried to piece together the events of the day, but had little luck. Quite clearly and with great shame, she remembered her hormonal declaration about the baby and desperately wished she'd used a little more tact. The ceremony stood out in her mind, but things got fuzzy around the reception. Apparently there had been a revolt of the waiters and somewhere along the line she'd gotten bashed on the head. Bruce was no help. He'd gone to take a nap before the whole commotion started, which seemed odd to her, but she didn't press the matter. The ER doctor released her with an anti-nausea prescription and an appointment with an obstetrician after she refused his suggestion to spend the night under observation.
But when they'd gotten home there was a message on the answering machine from an hysterical Barbara telling him to turn on the news. One phone call was all it took to shatter his world.
"Bruce?" He ignored her, eyes glued to the television set where he'd been sitting for almost an hour.
The voice on TV droned on, "And to recap the top story, highway 589, southbound to Bludhaven, is at a standstill after a horrific 25 car pile-up occurred earlier this evening resulting from a tractor trailer jackknifing just before exit 30. Rescue workers are still valiantly assisting those trapped amidst the wreckage. Preliminary reports list fatalities at 15, and many more seriously injured have been rushed to both Gotham General and Bludhaven Memorial hospitals. While many of the dead or wounded remain unidentified, we do know that one of those killed was Officer Richard Grayson, a member of the Bludhaven police force, who was off-duty and traveling home from Gotham. Grayson was not killed during the initial collision, but while trying to rescue a woman from her burning vehicle that subsequently exploded, killing both of them. Grayson is the adopted son of Bruce Wayne, famed industrialist and director of the Wayne Foundation, which provides much-needed charitable support throughout the city. Mr. Wayne could not be reached for comment. We're going to go live to the sight now with Brandon Kilmichaels reporting. Brandon…?"
The film cut to a nightmarish scene of twisted metal, fire, and smoke. Mardi walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "For heaven's sake, please turn that off. Nothing's going to change." Her voice was raw with exhaustion and emotion. He reached down and thumbed a button on the remote, muting the sounds, but the images still flashed across the screen in bold living color.
He grabbed her waist, pulling her between his knees, and leaned forward to lay his forehead against her stomach. Running her hands through his hair in an effort to comfort him, she whispered the words that could never express her depth of sadness at his loss. "I'm so sorry."
With only the sound of the grandfather clock to fill the heavy silence, she felt her own tears falling at his display of grief. Finally he pulled back slightly, placed a small kiss on her lower abdomen, and then looked up into her eyes. "Marry me. Don't take this child away too. Please." His voice was beseeching, his eyes wounded, and she started sobbing as the only possible response. She threw her arms around him and cried into his neck.
The weather was appropriately dismal for the somber event. Dark clouds filled the sky and a bone-chilling rain fell non-stop throughout the miserable day. Mardi hated funerals, cemeteries, and wearing black. Black was cold, the absence of all light, the symbol of evil. It sucked the life out of everything it touched. Black was death and of course, dearly beloved, that is why we're all here today. Hallelujah and amen.
She stood apart from the great gathering of mourners, beneath her black umbrella, dressed in a modest black dress with black shoes, black gloves, and a horrid little black hat. She wanted to run out of the graveyard, flee the solemn faces and the flowing tears. She wanted to put as many miles as possible between herself and Gotham City.
But she didn't do that anymore. Instead she waited beside some headstone of a person who had died years before she was even born and watched the people one by one press their hand to Bruce's and offer some words they hoped might comfort him, but words were never going to fill the hollow place in his heart, no matter how many times he heard, "So sorry for your loss."
He didn't let them see that though. He would nod and smile and thank them, and then start all over again with the next person. Watching, she felt a tear burn a trail down her cold cheek. At least one of us should be able to cry, she thought bitterly.
Among the mass of mourners crowding the expanse of the Gotham Cemetery were a cadre of Bludhaven police officers dressed in their finest uniforms who had served as pall bearers and gave a traditional 21 gun salute as Dick's casket was lowered into the ground. Mardi also saw the woman who was the ex-Mrs. Grayson with her new husband and three children – two boys and a girl – in tow. Bruce had made an effort to approach her earlier and she had snubbed him with calculated malice. Barbara was there with Sam, looking morose and stricken. Mardi had come to learn that she and Dick had had a relationship when they were younger. She overheard a terrible fight between Barbara and Bruce before the funeral started.
"I can't believe you didn't tell me he was there!" she'd shouted emotionally.
"He didn't want you to know. He didn't want to ruin your day," Bruce patiently explained.
"He wouldn't have ruined anything. You're the only one who ruins everything," she cried vehemently. "I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye!"
And things had only gotten worse from there. The media was on hand as if death were still as entertaining as it was in ancient Rome. Especially the heroically tragic death of the son of the city's wealthiest citizen. They were kept at bay at the gates of the cemetery by a posting of Gotham's police force, all determined to protect the sanctity of one of their own.
The condolences showed no sign of slacking and Mardi really couldn't stand to watch her love pretend to be calm and self-assured when she knew deep down he was in agony. So she moved even further away, glancing at the grave markers for lack of anything else to look at. At the top of a long slope was a huge marble monument with the name Wayne chiseled along the top. She blinked in disbelief and moved closer to read the names, Thomas and Martha, and noting the dates of death were identical, over fifty years earlier.
She closed her eyes and sighed. How did I wind up here? She thought grimly. A flip of a coin had decided her fate – heads Metropolis, tails Gotham. That's all. Where would she be now if it had come up heads? Her hand came up and rubbed her stomach. A baby. She was going to have a baby. A whole family for that matter. The diamond and amethyst ring shined brightly in the bleakness of the day. He'd kept it all this time, just in case she said yes.
Turning she saw the graveyard had cleared and he was in the middle of a small group of remaining people, talking quietly, nodding every now and again. Then his head came up and he saw her staring down at him from atop the knoll. He nodded and shook hands with the men and then moved up to join her. "How are you doing?" he asked when he'd reached her.
"I hate funerals," she said miserably.
"So do I."
"Your parents?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
"Yes."
"I'm sorry," she said in a hoarse whisper. Tears came flooding down and the sob choked in her throat as her hormones raged out of control magnifying her sadness for him a hundredfold.
"Stop that," he commanded gently, handing her a handkerchief. "Don't waste your tears on me. I don't need it. I'd rather see you smile." She blew her nose.
"It just doesn't seem fair. You deserve better than this."
"I'm glad you agree. Are you ready to go?"
"Home?"
"Just long enough to pack a suitcase, then we're going to Metropolis."
"What for?"
One corner of his mouth went up in a lopsided grin. "We're eloping."
"Now?"
"You're not backing out on me are you?"
"Of course not. But…"
"But what?"
"You just buried your son."
"And he won't be forgotten. Did he strike you as someone who'd want life to stop?"
"Well, no but…" His hands came up and cupped her face, his kiss cutting of her words.
Pulling away he looked into her eyes. "Marry me." Helpless once again to the power of his charm, she could only nod.
She was standing in front of the mirror in the public bathroom of the Metropolis city hall. "Oh, I feel nauseous," she moaned.
"That's just wedding day jitters. All brides get it," the calm reply came from her left. In the mirror she saw Lois Kent lean against the counter with arms folded and a slight smile on her face. Lois and her husband Clark were friends of Bruce's that he'd called on to be witnesses to their marriage. She was the managing editor of the Daily Planet while he was their top reporter. They were an attractive and gregariously nice couple, which compared to the at times grimly solemn Bruce, made them seem to almost come from another universe.
"No, it's the baby," Mardi replied and reached into her purse for the bottle of pills that the doctor had prescribed and that were worth their weight in gold as far as she was concerned.
"Baby?" Lois responded with a shocked tone. "You're having a baby?"
Mardi nodded and turned on the faucet, cupping her hand beneath the streaming water and bringing it to her mouth to wash down the pill. "That's why we're getting married."
"That isn't the only reason is it?"
Patting her face with the residual water on her hand, she turned to Lois. "No. It's just what finally got me to open my eyes."
Lois' violet eyes crinkled with her smile. "Well whatever the reason, I'm really happy for the both of you. I can't believe someone finally snagged that guy. Though if he'd given me a rock like that I might have reconsidered dumping him."
"Excuse me?"
"Didn't he tell you we had a relationship? Well it wasn't really that big of a deal. Very intense, but very short. Years ago. Don't you worry, once Smallville snagged my heart all other men ceased to exist."
"I wasn't jealous," Mardi tried to convince herself. "I was just a little surprised. He didn't mention anything about it. Of course if he were to list all the women he's been with, it'd probably be enough to fill a phone book," she commented dryly.
Lois laughed. "Come on. We don't want to keep the poor guy waiting do we."
"Nervous?" Clark asked with an amused smirk.
"No," the grim reply came.
"Then why are you pacing? That strip of linoleum is about worn away."
Bruce stopped and frowned. "I'm getting married," he stated to no one in particular.
"I know. And I must say it's about time. I was beginning to worry you were just going to rot away in that house of yours."
"Were you nervous when you married Lois?"
Clark smiled brightly. "Are you kidding? You were there. I searched for my glasses for an hour and they were in my pocket the whole time."
"How did she take it when you told her about your alter ego?"
"Typical Lois fashion. She said, 'Smallville, if you'd told me this sooner, thing's would have been a lot simpler.' Then she kissed me. Haven't you apprised your bride-to-be about your nocturnal activities?"
"No."
"Do you plan on telling her?"
"Not if I can help it," Bruce said and resumed pacing.
A few moments later the two women immerged from the bathroom. Mardi was dressed in a simple sleeveless beige dress with a matching jacket. As soon as Bruce saw her he stopped in his tracks, visibly relieved. He bent down and picked up a small bouquet of flowers from the bench and held them out to her. "Thank you," she said taking them.
"Shall we?" He held out his arm to her and all four people entered the courtroom.
Darkness had fallen on the city and she was looking out from the balcony of the honeymoon suite, marveling in the twinkling lights and the vivacity of Metropolis. The door slid open and she felt him move up against her back, his hands gripping the rail on either side of her.
She sighed in pleasure and said, "This city is so…so…"
"Sanitized," he remarked into her ear.
"I was going to go with breathtaking." She turned around in the confines of his arms. "You really are a Gotham boy aren't you? If it's not dark and gritty it's not home."
"Guilty as charged. Room service has just delivered a tray full of food. Care to come in for something to eat?"
"No, not right now. I don't really feel like food at the moment."
He frowned at her. "You need to eat to keep up your strength."
"I said I don't feel like food now." She reached up to gently tug on his ear. "I'm sure I'll be a lot more hungry after making love to my new husband. But if you'd rather go eat your filet mignon…"
He lifted her into his arms and carried her inside to the large bed. "There is nothing I'd rather do," he said before kissing her deeply.
