Any others you don't recognize are mine.
I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.
Rated PG : language; violence.
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"He can see you now, Mr. Wayne."
"Thanks, Cynthia. And haven't I asked you to call me Bruce?" Bruce smiled at Commissioner Gordon's secretary, mildly amused as he saw a faint blush on her cheeks. He passed her desk and opened the door into Gordon's office, crossed the room to shake hands with the middle-aged, gray-haired man who rose to his feet to greet him.
"Commissioner. Hope I'm not interrupting."
"Not at all, Bruce, always glad to see you. Sit down."
Bruce relocated a stack of papers and sat, glancing around at the usual clutter, the piles of file folders and computer printouts, the half-finished cups of coffee on his old friend's desk. Gordon was watching him with a smile. "I know. Never seem to find the time to clear up in here. And I swear the paper has started to reproduce. Every morning there's more of it than there was when I left."
"The sign of a busy man," Bruce murmured. "Anyway, I don't want to keep you. Just passing by and thought I'd drop in. See what's new."
"New. There's always something going on. Doubt if you'd find most of it interesting."
"I heard Batman was around last night."
"Yes..." Gordon frowned. "He called us in. Stopped a bunch of Anthony Zucco's boys from trashing a restaurant downtown, part of their protection business, I'm sure. They did a number on the place, but it could have been worse. We found them all nicely handcuffed, as usual. They aren't talking to anyone now -- but one of them said a little before he lawyered up. Said that new guy was with Batman."
"New guy?"
"Nightwing." Gordon said the name with distaste. "All we need, another one of these costumed characters. I don't know whether to be glad or sorry that he's hooked up with the Batman."
"How's that? I thought you cooperated with Batman. He's on your side, after all."
"Well, yes, Batman's a vigilante; and frankly sometimes I think he's not too tightly wrapped -- but he's proved himself over the years. He's been a big help, worked with us -- not out in the open, you know, but he has friends in the department, including me -- but no one knows Nightwing, what he's like or what he's after. Maybe Batman can keep him under control. I hope so. But I'm not glad to have two of them around."
"Maybe two will be better than one," Bruce said.
"Hmm. Next thing, you won't be able to walk down the street without bumping into someone in a mask and a cape."
Bruce smiled at the joke, but brought the conversation back to the subject he was interested in. "So Zucco's still in the protection business."
"Yeah." Gordon sighed. "He's been at it for over ten years. We haven't been able to touch him so far. But we've got a few leads. Maybe this time..."
"Leads?" Bruce prompted. "Like what?"
Gordon smiled. "I always wonder why you seem to find police work so fascinating. It's pretty far from your kind of life, after all. Society, fancy parties, beautiful women... why do you spend your time on asking me questions about thieves and murderers?"
"The same reason most people watch cop shows, I guess. Curious. And..."
"I know. You have a personal interest." Their eyes met in a moment of silent communication. "We think Zucco's gearing up for something big. There's been some talk -- a few rumors that he's going after a bigger target this time. Unfortunately, we don't know what it is."
"Unfortunate... yes," Bruce muttered, hearing a thread of bitterness creep into his voice. "Especially for his next victim."
"We do the best we can, Bruce."
He shook himself out of his mood and smiled. "I know, Jim, that wasn't a criticism. We all do what we can. Speaking of which..." He got up. "I'd better leave you to it, and get going. Nice seeing you."
"Anytime..."
Bruce turned for a last look as he left, seeing that graying head already bent over the first of a pile of papers on his desk. Gordon had been a good friend over the years, first as a social acquaintance who understood his interest in crime, and later as the Batman's half-reluctant ally. A good friend, and yet, while Gordon could understand why Batman existed, he was too dedicated to the system to ever entirely approve of someone who was so clearly outside it. A shame, really... Bruce watched for another few seconds, and then silently closed the door.
"Going out, sir?" Alfred ran an eye over Bruce's shabby jacket, stained shirt, and aging trousers; and reached to straighten his collar. "I take it you're not seeing Miss Kane tonight."
Bruce snorted. "No. Kathy hasn't had the pleasure of making Matches' acquaintance. Although she might like going out with him; she's an adventurous girl."
"A good quality in a lady friend of yours."
"Maybe. But she'll never see this side of me. At least I hope she never does."
Alfred tightened his lips in that way he had of showing disapproval. "I suppose not, sir," he said distantly.
Bruce stopped what he was doing to stare at his butler. "You think I should tell her, don't you?"
"It's hardly my place to-"
"You know I can't take the risk. The more people who know I'm Batman, the more chance that the wrong people will find out. That could end my career, and it would be dangerous for me, for you, for everyone close to me."
"So you simply tell no one."
"You know."
"Only because I discovered it by accident."
Bruce sighed, turning away to check his makeup in the mirror again. "Look, it's just not worth the risk. I trust you, but..."
"But not Miss Kane. Or anyone else." When Bruce didn't answer, Alfred surprised him by going on. "Sir, I only say it because I've seen how things have gone with Miss Madison, Miss Page, Miss Vale, to name only the ones who lasted more than a few weeks. How do you ever expect to have a real relationship with a woman if you won't be honest with her?"
"Who said I expect to have a real relationship?"
"It might contribute to a more normal life-"
"I'm perfectly aware my life will never be 'normal,'" Bruce said evenly. "That will be all, Alfred. Don't wait up," he added coolly.
"Very well, sir. I apologize if I said anything out of place." Alfred's voice was completely unrepentant.
As he listened to the butler's footsteps reach the top of the stairway and fade into the house above, Bruce tried to return his attention to his own disguised face in the mirror. But Alfred's words had struck home more than he liked.
It was all true, he would most likely never become truly close to a woman, not when he was hiding the most important part of his life from her. Not when he was forced to lie on an almost daily basis. Not when every woman seemed to end up either despising his playboy pose or realizing she would never break through the barriers around him. Perhaps his previous relationships would have ended anyway. Some of them at least. But perhaps not...
Julie Madison. She had been from the same social background as he was, rich, beautiful, involved in the even more glamorous world of acting. They had seemed to have everything in common, on the surface. He had asked her to marry him, before his Batman career had started and he had fully realized the difficulties involved. Even while engaged to Julie, he had never told her the truth. Maybe she had sensed it; they had become distant; she had come to disapprove of his apparent failure to do anything constructive with his life. When she had gotten an offer from Hollywood, she had taken it and discarded their engagement -- and him -- like a snake shedding its skin. Not a fair comparison; he couldn't entirely blame her; but the sudden rejection still hurt.
Then Linda Page. Very different from Julie's cool classiness; she was a warm, kind person, not rich, not glamorous, a woman who had to work for a living and did it as a nurse. They had been close... but not close enough for commitment, not close enough for him to consider revealing his secret. She also had started to wonder why he seemed to be wasting his life on parties and idleness, and why she was left out of so much of it, and their relationship had eventually cooled.
Vicki Vale. He still smiled when he remembered her. Vicki, the photographer with ambitions of becoming an important reporter. Vicki, who was aggressive, bold, completely dedicated to her career; something he could certainly understand. She had pursued him both as Bruce and as Batman. For a time, she had made a determined effort to discover Batman's identity, and had suspected Bruce. He realized now he had enjoyed their lively battle of wits more than he had enjoyed the woman herself. But that had ended too; she had taken an out-of-town assignment and disappeared from his life.
Now there was Kathy. In a way the best of both worlds; she came from a poor but unusual background, had worked for a living most of her life, but was a part of his social circle now. He had noticed her right away, seeming a little awkward and out of place, a moth among the social butterflies, almost as much of a misfit as he felt himself to be. Then he had discovered her refreshing honesty, her humor, her warmth. Kathy was special.
But it didn't change anything. What it came down to was the fact that no matter how much he liked a woman or how much he might feel she was special to him, he couldn't afford to trust her with his greatest secret. Too much chance that she wouldn't understand how vital it was that she tell no one, ever. Too much chance that she wouldn't understand what he was trying to do, or why. How could she? How could anyone who hadn't experienced the things he had?
Maybe it would be different someday, maybe if he fell in love... but no, love wasn't for him. Too dangerous, his mind cautioned, before he pushed the thought away. Better to keep things the way they were, casual, that way no one got hurt. That way, he didn't have to wonder what would happen to a woman who loved him when he finally got himself killed. And he didn't have to wonder how he would feel, if he lost another person he loved.
The same bar, the same people. Ponytail and Snake wouldn't be here, of course, unless they were already out on bail. No one else from Zucco's gang seemed to be around, either. Bruce moistened his lips with a glass of beer and tried not to be obvious as he surveyed the room, looking for familiar faces, anyone who might know about Zucco's latest plans, and might be persuaded to let something slip.
His eyes narrowed for a moment as the door opened, and a young man walked in, average size, dark hair, unhappy eyes. Robbie. He'd wondered, even hoped he would show up. Bruce turned back to the bar, a furtive glance in the mirrored wall showing the young man look around, spot him, and hesitate.
Definitely something about that kid... Maybe his youth, maybe the way he seemed out of place here. Bruce knew he was a fair judge of character, a necessity in his line of work. Robbie had none of the hard quality he saw in most of the men he came into contact with in dark, smoky bars and back alleys. There was something hidden about him, something Bruce instinctively understood without quite knowing what it was.
Robbie sat on the stool next to Bruce without quite looking at him, ordered a beer and sat staring into it, turning the glass in his hands moodily. Bruce let a few minutes go by, waiting until there was no one near enough to overhear them, before leaning a little closer.
"Where are your friends tonight, kid?"
Brown eyes glanced at him for only a half-second. "In jail. But you knew that, didn't you?"
"I hear things."
"I bet you do." Just a hint of a smile lightened his profile.
"They haven't been bailed out?"
"Zucco figures if they screwed up, let them pay the price. He's not big on loyalty. Besides, he's got other things on his mind."
Bruce studied their reflections in the mirror, waiting, but Robbie sank back into silence, his face unrevealing. And yet, there was a subtle tension in that expression, something just under the surface that told Bruce the younger man was troubled, by something very disturbing. He decided to take a chance.
"At the risk of offending you again, I'll repeat; you don't seem like the same kind as Zucco and his bunch."
"And you don't sound the same as last night." Definitely a smile this time, as Robbie's eyes turned to look at him sideways.
"We all got our good days and our bad days, kid."
"Yeah, I guess."
"How'd you get mixed up with them, anyway?"
"Bad luck?" He shrugged. "Like I said last night, my business is my business. But I know what I'm doing."
"Famous last words... How old are you, anyway?"
"Old enough, old man."
Bruce chuckled, and again saw the flash of a smile, a glimpse of warm and lively humor in the face that turned to him, before it was hidden again under a guarded look. "What happened to you last night?" he asked after a moment. "You were with Snake and the guy with the ponytail. Were you mixed up in that restaurant job?"
"I was there."
"But you got away."
"Uh huh."
"Zucco must be mad. Four of his boys in jail. Bet he's thinking about doing something big now, something to prove he hasn't lost his touch."
"Could be." Robbie bent his eyes into his beer again, then seemed to reach a decision and looked up. "Yeah. He wants to do something big... not just because of last night. He wants a bigger reputation. Wants to impress people... and he doesn't care who gets hurt."
"That's nothing new for Tony Zucco."
"Nope. But this time, it could be more than trashing a restaurant or beating someone up. I know he's killed people before, but..." Robbie's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. "This time, a lot of people could get hurt. Killed."
Bruce watched him carefully as he lowered his voice still more and said, "You sound like you don't like the idea."
"Maybe you're right, I'm not the same kind as them." He put down his untouched glass of beer and climbed off the stool.
"Wait a second, kid," Bruce protested. "What about what Zucco's planning? Throw me a bone here. Maybe I can get in on it."
"Maybe." Robbie stared at him, then his face firmed and he leaned closer. "Will you help me stop it?" he asked, his voice so low Bruce wasn't quite sure he had heard correctly.
"What makes you think I can stop it? Or that I want to?" he asked just as quietly.
"We made a good team last night, didn't we?" The flash of a smile again, then Robbie stepped past his barstool, for a moment moving so close that his breath warmed Bruce's ear as he said very softly, "Canin building. Tomorrow midnight. And I told you to stop calling me 'kid.'"
TBC...