…And Into the Present

A/N: This was the result of a reader request to incorporate a specific episode (the chapter title will give you an idea which one).  There are spoilers.  Assume everything in the episode happened as shown.  Hope you enjoy!

I am so high, I can hear heaven.
I am so high, I can hear heaven.
Oh but heaven, no heaven don't hear me.

            The small intercom on the desk pinged melodically.  "Mrs. Wayne, your daughter's here to see you," she soft disembodied voice of her secretary spoke.

            Mardi frowned and looked up from the application for aide she was working on to her wristwatch.  It was well after three in the afternoon, so it didn't look like Isabella had been sent home from school early.  She supposed she could count herself lucky that the free-spirited girl hadn't burnt the entire campus down yet.  But why was she here now?  She generally went straight home after school.

            "Send her in please," she responded.

            Thirty seconds later her door opened and the dark-haired ball of energy bounded in wearing a smile that threatened to split her entire head in two.  "Hey Mom!" she called out happily with a small wave.

            "Good afternoon Bella.  What do you want?"

            Isabella made a face.  "Do I have to have a reason to visit?" she asked resentfully.

            "No, but it's safe to assume you do have one."

            Her daughter blushed at having been so easily read.  "Okay, well it's like this."  She grinned wildly before continuing.  "My class is taking a two-week trip to France!"

            "France?  What's in France?" Mardi asked distractedly, her attention partially diverted by the file on her desk.

            "Mo-om," she replied with a teenaged groan.  Mardi flicked her eyes up to the girl.  "The Eiffel Tower, The Louvre, Versailles …any of these things ring a bell?"

            "I see.  So when is this fabulous trip abroad set to take place?"

            "Next month, on Saturday the twelfth."

            "Bella, your father's birthday is four days later," she reminded her.

            Isabella wrung her hands in front of her nervously.  "I know, but c'mon Mom, he's had so many I'm sure he won't care if I miss this one."  Mardi had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

            "Isabella," she tried to sound maternal.  "We can go to Europe any time.  How about this summer?  We'll all go together as a family."  If they could pry Bruce out of the cave, that is.

            "But I want to go with my class.  Please Mom," the girl begged.  "A couple of girls have already asked me to room with them.  It's going to be so fun.  Please."  She gave Mardi the abandoned puppy dog look she'd perfected.

            "Very well.  Go and have a great time," she finally relented.  "Now off with you.  I have work to do."  But Isabella continued to stand there, nervously chewing on her lower lip, plucking on the hem of her sweater.  "What is it now?" Mardi asked testily.

            "Um, well, it's like this.  They kind of need parents to volunteer to come along as chaperones." 

            "You're kidding me?"  Isabella shook her head silently, already smiling in anticipation of her victory.  Well Bruce did say she needed a vacation.  Maybe getting out of Gotham for a while was just what she needed to get out of the rut, and try to get back to her old self again.  "Fine.  Fine, whatever.  Now I really have a lot to do if I'm going to be leaving.  Goodbye."

            She ran around the desk and placed a wet kiss on her mother's cheek before flying out the door.


Someone told me love would all save us.
But how can that be, look what love gave us.
A world full of killing, and blood-spilling -
That world never came.

            The trip itself was without any major incident other than one boy getting lost in a vineyard.  The days passed in a haze of tour bus rides, rich food, and shopping.  Chaperoning two-dozen adolescents was not as difficult as say brain surgery, but it certainly was far more interesting.

            But on Saturday evening at the end of the first week, Mardi became overwhelmingly concerned.  She had called Wayne Manor five times in the last three days and there had been no answer to any of them.  She hadn't spoken to Bruce since the afternoon of his birthday when he told her that Terry had somehow managed to obtain tickets to the hottest new stage show in town: "Batman: The Musical."  He was understandably leery of the event, but was planning to attend for the boy's sake, and he wasn't the least bit appreciative of her laughter or her suggestion that he go 'in costume.'  She'd hung up after wishing him a happy birthday and promising her present would be far more pleasant.

            That had been at the beginning of the week.  Where could he have gone?  Her first fear was that he'd had another heart attack and was in the hospital, or worse.

            He slammed the phone down after listening to the distant ringing for over two minutes.  With trembling hands she picked the receiver up and dialed a different number.  It was almost ten in the evening local time so it should be afternoon in Gotham.  She prayed there would be somebody home.

            "Hello," a pleasant female voice answered.

            "Mrs. McGinnis?"

            "Yes.  Who's calling?"

            "This is Mardi Wayne, Bruce Wayne's wife?"

            "Oh, hello," Mary McGinnis said a little warily.  "What can I do for you?"

            "I was hoping to speak with Terry.  Is he home by chance?"

            "No," the other woman responded in a surprised tone.  "Don't you know?"

            Mardi's heart leapt up into the back of her throat.  "Know what?  I'm sorry, but I'm in Europe with my daughter and I haven't heard from Bruce in days.  Did something happen?  Is Bruce okay?" she choked out.

            "Oh no!" Mary exclaimed.  "Nothing like that.  Mr. Wayne had some pressing business in New Cuba and he asked Terry to join him.  I really don't like him missing school like this, but I guess as long as he makes up his schoolwork it's fine.  After all it's not every day he has the opportunity to shadow an important man like Mr. Wayne."

            Mardi let out a sigh of relief.  "That's great.  Do you know what kind of business it was by chance?"

            "I'm sorry, but no."

            "Well thank you anyway.  You've been a huge help."

            "Anytime." 

            The line was disconnected.  Where there should be relief there were only more questions.  Why would he take off without so much as getting a message to her?  And what could he be doing in New Cuba?  She knew for a fact that there were no Wayne-Powers holdings on the island.  Batman business perhaps?

            She grabbed the phone again and dialed another international number.  After being transferred four times she was finally patched through to the Wayne-Powers private airstrip.  "Hello?" a gruff male voice answered.

            "Hi," she said brightly.  "My name is Mardi Wayne, and I know this is going to sound incredibly silly, but I'm trying to track down my husband.  Maybe you've heard of him, his name is Bruce Wayne?"

            "Lady, you'd have to live on a rock at the bottom of the ocean not to have heard of him," the voice growled.

            "Of course," she simpered.  "How silly of me.  Anyhoo, I wrote down the information on this trip he's taking on a piece of paper but for the life of me I can't seem to find it.  I swear I'd lose my head if it wasn't screwed on."  She giggled.   "So can you do a dotty old lady a favor and look up and see if he's taken a company jet?"

            "Don't have to look nothin' up.  He flew out of here three days ago with some boy and a woman."

            "A woman?  Do you remember what did she looked like?"  Could he have gone with Barbara?

            "Couldn't forget the likes of her.  Man, was she ever a looker.  Exotic looking babe, with dark hair and these luscious lips and sultry eyes.  Whooo."

            "I see.  And where did they go?" she said, trying to keep the bite out of her tone.

            "Down to the Caribbean, New Cuba."

            "Right.  That sounds about right.  Now can you tell me if he filed a return flight plan?"

            "Nope.  I got the impression they was going to be gone for a while."

            "Thank you," she replied tersely and slammed the phone down.  She picked up the lamp on the bedside table, ripped the plug from the wall, and with a primitive cry of fury hurled it across the room, the cord trailing behind like a kite's tail.  It hit the opposite wall with a satisfying explosion.  Shards of the porcelain base fell to the floor like snowflakes and the shade dropped on top of them with a small clatter.  Hands clenched at her side, her field of vision seemed to shrink and expand with the powerful thump of her heartbeat and a slightly crimson haze appeared to settle over the entire room.  She knew the meaning of the term 'seeing red.' 

            She stormed out of her hotel room and walked down the corridor to another room door, rapping sharply on it.  A redheaded girl whose name was Peggy answered.  "Hey Mrs. Wayne," she said politely.

            "I need to speak with Isabella," she responded harshly.

            The girl's face fell a bit, but she walked back into the room and a few moments later Isabella appeared.  "What's up?" she asked.

            "Pack your things.  We're leaving."

            "Why?" Isabella asked, eyes wide with apprehension.

            "Just do it," Mardi commanded.  "Be ready in twenty minutes."  She turned without waiting for confirmation and went to another door where she told Isabella's teacher that there was an emergency at home and they would be leaving immediately.  She didn't wait around for the woman to quiz her to the nature of the emergency.

            Five hours later they boarded an international flight headed west towards Metropolis, where they'd hire a plane to fly them back to Gotham.  Isabella sat by the window staring sulkily out at the darkness of the night sky while Mardi stared into her own darkness of thought, hands gripping the arms of the first class seat, but completely unaware of the pain it caused her.  Her original instinct had been to go directly to New Cuba, but dismissed it as a too impulsive and overly emotional reaction.  She had no idea where he would be or what she would do.  No, it was better to go straight home and take things from there.

            Over and over she tried to make sense of his actions.  Surely there must be a logical reason for him flying all the way down to a tropical paradise with a gorgeous woman, certainly if he took Terry along with him it must be innocent.  Maybe it was nothing.  Maybe she'd overreacted.  Then again, maybe not.



Now that the world isn't ending, it's love that I'm sending to you.
It isn't the love of a hero, and that's why I fear it won't do.

            "Intruder alert," the soft computer voice announced.  Bruce frowned and depressed a series of keys on the computer console, bringing up an overhead view of the estate.  The front gate had been opened.  A check of the log showed that it was accessed via the proper security code, which meant one of two people had entered it and one of them he knew was out on patrol and would have come in through the cave entrance if he'd returned.

            It was Sunday afternoon.  He'd been home for only twelve hours himself, and wasn't expecting them back from France for another week at which time he had hoped to be closer to his previous and natural state, or at least disguise himself appropriately until such time as he did return to normal.  Standing fluidly with no effort or pain he looked down at Ace, who had been napping at his feet.  "This should be interesting."

            He ascended the stone steps that lead from the cave into the study and watched silently from the doorway as his wife and daughter stepped through the front entrance, dropping armloads of luggage onto the parquet floor and slamming the door behind them.  Neither noticed him observing them immediately.  Without speaking they removed their coats, barely acknowledging each other, a veil of tension enveloping them.

            It was Isabella who spotted him first.  "Daddy?" she asked in confusion.   "Is that you?"

            He nodded to her wordlessly, aware of the shock she must be feeling.  He appeared thirty years younger than he should.  More and more gray had crept into his hair since the emersion in the Pit, but it wasn't enough.  His back was too straight, his face too smooth. 

            Mardi looked upon him with no emotion, no surprise.  To Isabella, she said, "Go to your room."

            "But Mom…"

            "Don't argue with me," she replied coldly.  Isabella frowned but did as she was told.

            "What are you doing home?" he asked, wondering what could have happened on the trip to cause her black mood.

            She moved towards him, advancing on him so steadily he was forced to back his way into the study with a growing uneasiness.  Without looking she reached back and slammed the door shut with such force it shook the desk lamp.

            "Who is she?" she whispered through gritted teeth, explaining her overt hostility.

            "How did you know?"

            "You think you're the only one in this family who can do a little detective work?" she sneered.  "Who is she?"

            "It's a long story."

            "I've got plenty of time, though not as much as you it seems.  Now tell me who is she?!"

            "An old friend."

            Her face relaxed into a deceptive smile.  "From what I gather, she's not that old.  Try harder," she growled.

            Bruce clenched his fists at his sides, unused to being given the third degree, but, he reminded himself, he did make a vow to this woman, one he'd come terribly close to breaking.  "Sit down," he said softly.

            She shook her head.  "No.  Tell me."

            "She was someone special, someone I loved," he finally admitted, guilt flowing through him as he witnessed the pain that swept over her face.  "Her name was Talia, and her father was an old nemesis of mine, Ra's al Ghul, which loosely translates to Demon Head.  And that's what he was – a demon.  He lived for centuries by immersing himself in the Lazarus Pits that restored his youth time after time.  Talia showed up the night of my birthday and offered me the use of one of the pits, which she'd apparently been using herself."

            "Of course you jumped at the chance."

            "No," he said firmly.  "I refused, though she assured me that the process was much safer, that she herself had used them, I didn't want to.  But then something happened.  I almost died, and a woman almost died alongside me because I was unable to do what I used to.  It frightened me," he admitted.

            "You're breaking my heart," she replied coldly.  "Get to the part where you fly off with your ex."

            "It wasn't like that," he tried to say, though it felt like a lie in his mouth.  "Besides, it wasn't her.  We found out Ra's had sacrificed her when he could no longer regenerate his own body, by implanting his consciousness into hers.  He killed her and he was going to do the same to me."

            "Oh," she said flatly.  "Lucky me he didn't succeed."   They stared at each other across the insignificant few feet of carpet that may as well have been the Grand Canyon.    "I can't believe I was so foolish to think you could ever really care about me," she muttered helplessly.  "I guess I turned out to be another in the long line of your conquests.  What happens now?"

            "Nothing has changed.  And I have always loved you," he told her, trying to convince her, maybe trying to convince them both.

            "No!  You can't.  You cannot possibly love me the way a normal man loves a normal woman!  You and that festering wound of an alter ego, you can only fall in love with the daughter of a…a…demon!" she spat.  "And everything has changed.  You went away with her, and the evidence of your decision is irrefutable.  Just look at you!"  With a deep, composing breath she continued in a calmer vein.  "Just answer me this – what did you first think when she showed up on your doorstep, what was the very first thing that crossed your mind when you saw her?  Fess up Bruce, honesty is good for the soul."

            He closed his eyes for a moment.  "Don't do this," he pleaded quietly.

            "Too ashamed?  Go ahead and answer me.  You can't hurt me anymore than you already have."

            He couldn't bring himself to lie.  "I thought how much I had missed her."

            She nodded in approval.  "And just what were you planning on doing after your little swim in the fountain of youth from hell?  What was going to happen if old Rash the Demon hadn't used your girlfriend as a timeshare?  Bring her back here and set up house? After all, I was only a distraction from the boredom of retirement, right?  Disposable as it were."

            "No, that's not true.  I can't tell you what I was thinking.  It was vanity, fear, I don't know, but I am sorry.  Yes I loved her and it hurts that her own father used her in such a callous way, but she was my past and you are my present."  He thought about Isabella.  "And my future.  I married you because I wanted to, and I would do it all again, without hesitation."

            "That's supposed to make everything all right?" she asked bitterly.

            "You have to trust me."

            "It's not that easy anymore," she told him.

            "I know, but I'm not your enemy."

            Her head dropped down almost as if in defeat and he stepped closer, placing his arm around her shoulders.  "God help me, but I don't think I can live without you," he heard her whispered.  "Not that I'm so deluded I believe the feeling is mutual."

            He didn't bother to respond.  He couldn't.  A life full of loss had inured him to such emotional upheaval.  But it would hurt if he lost her, though would it hurt as much as learning that Talia was gone forever, he wondered.  He closed the thought down before he could begin to formulate the answer.  It was an unfair comparison, unfair to both women.  Instead he held his trembling wife against him.

            She calmed down after a time and looked up at him.  Clearing her throat she spoke, "How are we supposed to explain this to people?"

            "Won't have to," he answered.  "It requires several treatments for the regeneration to take permanently.  I'll be back to my old self in less than a month."

            "Good."

            "Good?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

            "Yes.  Who knows what kind of trouble you could get into like that."

            Bruce nodded and raised his right hand, drawing his fingertips gently down the slope of her throat.  "Trouble does have a way of finding me."  He bent and cautiously grazed his lips over hers, feeling an immediate response as she stretched her neck for more.  He obliged and began kissing her in earnest, soft and slow, creating the spark that would grow into a fire that would develop into a raging inferno.

            When he pulled away he felt as much as heard her whisper, "Please," with an urgent need that echoed his own deep longing.

            His arm slipped around her waist and hefted her small frame easily into the air, setting her down on the edge of the antique oak desk that had belonged to his father and his grandfather before him.  He renewed his hungry attack on her mouth making up for years of lost time as agile fingers deftly worked at the buttons of her blouse.  It wouldn't last long, this borrowed youth, which by and large he was grateful for, but in this one instance as he was able to make love to his wife for the first time in years, he sent out a silent prayer of thanks.

            She was so completely human, both flawed and beautiful.  It was difficult to ignore the irony that she totally detested that part which defined him, which drove him so utterly and mercilessly his entire life, but perhaps in knowing her he'd finally learned a little about what it meant to be human.  The Dark Knight would always exist, would always be needed in any world this side of paradise, but maybe it could be said that she'd given him a small taste of the peace and happiness that the parents of Bruce Wayne would have wished for their son's life.

            Having weathered every storm his eccentric lifestyle threw at her, she still stood by him, offering him one bright warm island of solace in the darkness.  Holding her in his arms now was amazing and wonderful and…

            "Perfect," he muttered into the silken skin of her throat.

            "Not quite," she rasped, hands gripping at his shoulders like a woman drowning.  "But you're getting there."



And they say that a hero can save us.
I'm not gonna stand here and wait.
I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.
Watch as they all fly away.


All lyrics from Hero by Chad Kroeger and Josey Scott