Chapter I – Adjustments
Lois Lane woke up with a groan. As she'd never been a morning person, her father had always called her his "little grumpy bug" since she was three years old. Things really hadn't changed since then, with the welcome exception of the automatic coffee maker Bruce had installed in her Gotham condominium two days after she'd moved in. Throwing on a robe, she made her way into the kitchen to pour a large cup of Jamaican Blue Note coffee. The welcome jolt of caffeine started her blood flowing at its usual frenzied pace. She settled onto the couch, grabbing a remote to turn on Fox News to see if anything newsworthy had occurred during the five hours she'd slept.
Her condominium was situated on the penthouse floor of a thirty-nine story high rise in Gotham's Central District. It was a convenient two-block walk south on Broadway to the Daily Planet's Gotham City bureau and a three-block walk east on 45th Street to Wayne Tech Headquarters.
Convenient was a word she currently despised as she associated it with the large blood-stain still visible on her bedroom carpet.
When Lois had shown up in the Cave six months prior--after spending ten minutes in the damp confines, she swore on the spot it would be the one and only time she would ever set foot there--Bruce, dressed in the Batman uniform, had welcomed her warmly. She could feel his reluctance when she wrapped her arms around him, melting into him, then realized that Batman would always maintain an unbreakable facade. Batman promptly asked Alfred to usher her back upstairs 'to get settled', then returned to his work. Two hours later and still wearing the cape and cowl, Bruce - she refused to acknowledge Batman even when Bruce was wearing the full costume - joined her upstairs for lunch. He apologized, noting "a few things happened while I was in Metropolis."
Lois accepted the apology, then walked over and pulled back the cowl so she could see his face. "First rule, I'll never go down there again. Second rule, no masks or capes allowed at the dinner table, okay?"
Alfred laughed out loud then politely excused himself, noting, "I have to make a long run to the grocery store…everything seems to have spoiled while I was away." Once the Bentley pulled away down the driveway, the couple stared at each other, weighing the gravity of the situation. Satisfied with their unspoken conclusion, they immediately dashed upstairs and spent the rest of the afternoon frolicking in his bedroom.
TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTSated in the afterglow of sex as the last remaining embers of sunlight burned through the window, Lois fingers involuntarily started tracing the maze of scars crisscrossing his body. Her mind was a whirlwind of activity. Somehow the consummation of their love in his bedroom had changed her; made her his for the asking. Lois shivered with trepidation. Giving freely of herself had never been her strong suit and inwardly she wondered what her flight to Gotham City represented in terms of a personal exaction.
"Problem?" he inquired, reading her expression intently.
"No problem," Lois replied with a grin. "The sex was even better than I remembered in Metropolis…"
"But…," he prodded her.
"But I'm still not sure how to reconcile this part of you," she muttered, gesturing to the cape and cowl strewn about the floor. "You're a billionaire who goes into a charity ball wearing a tux but if there's a problem, you come out dressed…"
"Like a flying rodent?" he whispered through gritted teeth.
"I wasn't going to say that." she replied sharply.
"Joker called me that in Metropolis." Bruce noted with a wry grin.
Lois nodded in appreciation. It was an apt description in her mind. Deciding she wouldn't win any points to be painted into the same corner as her new boyfriend's arch-nemesis, she changed tacks. "Well, suffice to say, you like to dress differently after work than the rest of us."
"In my own defense, I have fully disclosed all of my issues," he retorted defensively.
Nodding in acknowledgment, Lois took a deep, measured breath before she decided to continue. "In recognition of your issues, but also of the fact that I do care about you, I stayed awake all last night trying to figure out a way to make this…us, work."
Bruce's eyes narrowed but he didn't interrupt.
"And I've decided that I want to move to Gotham full-time and try to be with you. YOU, Bruce, not the Batman. I don't want to see him, hear about him or have anything to do with him. As far as I'm concerned, Batman is a hobby for you…like golf is for other men, maybe, I don't know. Just do it on your own free time when we're not doing something together."
"That's easier said than done," Bruce replied hollowly. Searching for the right words, he lifted his hand up to her cheek, stroking it gently. "I…care for you, Lois. But you can't ask me to give up what I do."
"I'm not asking you to give it up," Lois replied deliberately. "I'm just telling you that I intend to practice denial in a MAJOR way where Batman is concerned. As long as you keep that part of your life out of OUR life, then I think we've got a pretty good shot."
Bruce held her gaze for almost a full minute, carefully measuring the alternatives available. Reaching out to take her again, his expression softened as he murmured, "Works for me, Lois. No promises, but it works for me."
TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTBy the next morning, Bruce started to work the magic that only extreme wealth seems to accomplish. Within three days all of her belongings in Metropolis were packed, shipped and unpacked in a three-bedroom penthouse that he "just happened" to own in downtown Gotham. Initially, Lois insisted she would buy a place of her own. However the trappings of the lifestyle of the rich and famous were addictive. Her daily side-trips from the Daily Planet's Gotham office during long lunches with a real estate agent quickly dwindled to once a week. Every residence she looked at paled in comparison to where Bruce had set her up. Her Agent saw the tell-tale signs before Lois, and quietly moved onto to other clients where she had a chance of earning a commission.
For three weeks, Lois hadn't even noticed that her Agent had failed to schedule any more walk-thrus. Feeling rejected, angrily she picked up the phone to give the woman a piece of her mind. Realizing the absurdity of the situation, Lois set the receiver down with a laugh. Sinking into an office chair she kept in the apartment, Lois concluded with resignation that in some circles, she might be viewed as a 'kept woman'.
When she'd flown to Gotham, Lois was under the assumption that a place of her own was pointless, especially considering she'd be staying in the Manor. To her chagrin, Bruce had steadfastly refused to entertain any of her arguments in favor of moving into the Manor, reasoning that his lifestyle "would take some getting used to on her part".
Angered by his unwillingness to compromise after she'd gone to great lengths to figure out a way to accept Batman into her life, Lois almost returned to Metropolis the day after she arrived in Gotham. She stormed about the Manor, not pleased with his further observation that she was far too independent by nature to blithely settle into his lifestyle without repercussions. Hoping to mollify his new girlfriend, Bruce tried to settle their disagreement by handing her the keys to the condominium along with the deed in her name. Rationalizing that she'd need a place of her own while he was on patrol – and after a walk-thru at sunset that set her heart racing - Lois finally accepted the keys.
Her acquiescence prompted their first foray into make-up sex. Although there were minimal furnishings in the condominium, they opted to 'break in' the kitchen counter on the spot. It proved to be extremely rewarding for both of them, however when he left a few hours later to go on patrol, Lois stared forlornly into the dim skyline of Gotham from the vantage of her bedroom balcony pondering what on earth had possessed her to pursue him to Gotham. There was no easy answer to that poignant question, however a large glass of wine helped dull the reason for asking.
In the following days after she'd moved into the condo, Lois quickly learned that her status as his mistress (and unofficial fiancé) didn't really improve her prioritization in his life. By her own count, she ranked a distant third behind the protection of Gotham City and the operation of Wayne Enterprises. Her private life quickly settled into a routine of weekly lunches with Bruce in the executive suite of WayneTech, occasional dinners at the Manor and a host of charity dinners and balls, appearing at his side as the trophy girlfriend.
While the city-raised sophisticate in Lois enjoyed the new dresses, jewelry and furs that Bruce could lavish upon her, a part of her that she'd repressed for a number of years began to yearn for a simple existence, free from the angst that overtook her every night while he was on patrol.
While Lois had made it clear, on no uncertain terms, that she was not interested in participating in Batman's lifestyle, hers was a superficial answer to a complicated problem. She was in love with Bruce and as she'd repeatedly argued on the nights where he stood her up to go on patrol, Batman was somebody else's problem to deal with. Despite her insistence that he give her more of his time, there was always another alarm or emergency which required his attention while Lois was babbling away in mid-sentence. For all her denial that Batman was someone else's problem, all the wine she could drink at night couldn't drown the loneliness and trepidation she felt knowing at that moment he was probably engaged in life and death combat with the most recently 'rehabilitated' criminal sprung from Arkham.
Her loneliness was fueled by the professional reception (and subsequent brush off) she'd received from her fellow reporters. Perry had given her wide leeway in pursuing stories in Gotham. Bruce's knowledge of Gotham's elite had provided her access to rumors and agendas previously unknown to her in Metropolis. On her own in pursuit of the latest headline, other reporters made a concerted attempt to snub and even ridicule her at press conferences, making pointed (but always whispered) references to "Wayne's harlot of the month." While Lois was pretty thick-skinned, the fact that she'd been professionally snubbed by Gotham's Fourth Estate hit pretty hard.
At dinner one night with Bruce, she'd casually mentioned the ongoing battle with her fellow reporters. A dark expression suddenly settled into his eyes. The normally affable voice of Bruce changed instantly into that of the Bat. The transformation was frightening.
"Names?" he demanded calmly, but his temples were pulsing with anger.
Lois' felt her stomach drop. Realizing that his alter-ego might decide to pay a piss-inducing visit to some of the men who'd cowed her during the press conferences, Lois quickly changed the topic. Bruce ultimately calmed down, but the experience left her shaken.
Searching for a more human connection, Lois made a concerted effort to stay in touch with her co-workers and bosses in Metropolis. At Perry's insistence, at least once a month she traveled back to Metropolis to attend senior staff and editorial policy meetings. Initially hoping for a friendly welcome-wagon in celebration of her triumphant return, she was disappointed with the general indifference she received. To her surprise, Clark Kent was a welcome sight however after she'd rushed over to wrap him in a hug, he treated her coolly, with a professional detachment she found distressing.
Two weeks after the Bat had briefly crept into their lives at the diner table, a second incident occurred which left Lois with the indelible impression that no matter how hard she tried to shield her life from the existence of Batman, his shadow would forever loom over their lives.
That evening – per her now usual custom -- Lois went to sleep at midnight after washing down a percocet with a glass of chardonnay (it was the best combination to dull the nightmares she kept having about a broken and bloody Bruce). Thirty minutes later Batman landed with a hard thump onto her balcony. Staggering to his feet, he managed to unlock the door with a key he kept in his belt. Numbed by the percocet/chardonnay cocktail, Lois finally staggered out of the bed in fright when a gust of wind banged the door against the wall. Fulfilling her nightmares, Batman tottered into the room then collapsed on the floor, blood pouring from a wound above his left kidney.
Initially in shock to see her man suffering from a life-threatening injury, Lois finally regained her wits. Applying a make-shift field dressing comprised of a hand-towel, she managed to call Alfred with her free hand while binding her bed-sheet around his midsection to maintain pressure. Satisfied that Alfred was on his way and the bandage was as good as she could make it, Lois frowned when she spied the tell-tale signs of shock – rapid loss of body temperature and white pallor of his skin - overtaking Bruce's body. She quickly stripped away the remnants of his uniform then wrapped herself and her down comforter tightly around him in an effort to avoid further loss of body temperature, praying that Alfred would make it in time.
Alfred arrived twenty minutes later. Heaving with exertion, he pulled a large black trunk on rollers into the apartment. Dr. Leslie Tompkins arrived a few minutes later. White-lipped with fear, Lois helped the two unpack the seemingly endless supply of medical equipment, then watched in dreaded fascination as they performed surgery on her bedroom floor. Lois helped for the next two hours, transfusing three bags of type O blood into Bruce to replace what he'd lost while learning more about thoracic and renal surgery then she ever wanted to know. At three in the morning, Leslie and Alfred had finally stabilized Bruce to the point where his blood pressure was climbing back to normal. Dr. Thompkins sutured the wound, then ushered Lois to the kitchen table.
Aghast from the experience, Lois made a pot of coffee as they waited for the patient to recover. Exhausted, the three of them quietly sat at her kitchen table, listening to the sounds of the mobile EKG. While Bruce pulse was visibly irregular on the monitor, neither Alfred nor Leslie seemed particularly concerned. They absently discussed matters ranging from the latest scandal to hit the District Attorney's office to Leslie's procurement of a Federal Grant to provide medical aid to Gotham's homeless population.
Exasperated, Lois finally stood up, throwing her chair onto the floor in the process. "Shouldn't we be concerned about Bruce?"
Alfred looked at her with a seasoned expression that suggested it wasn't the first time they'd helped him in similar circumstances, then decided to allay her fears. "Ms. Lane, this is the eleventh…no twelfth major surgery we've performed on Master Bruce. Not to make light of it, but it's rather become routine for us."
Lois was stunned at his admission. While she'd seen the scars, she'd never really bothered to make a scorecard for the total. Finally, she stammered, "I don't want surgery on somebody that I'm supposed to marry to ever become routine."
"Then Lois, perhaps you should re-think who you're going to marry," Leslie replied sadly, then made her way back to the bedroom to check the EKG monitor.
Lois looked to Alfred for reassurance, but there was none given. Averting his gaze, he settled back to the cup of coffee in front of him. She wearily sat beside him, staring at her own cup. In the background, she could hear the ping of the EKG charting his heartbeat. She spent the rest of the morning wondering how many times she would have to endure similar evenings in the future, waiting for the time when a wound proved mortal. The thought made her nauseous.
TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTAs she combed out her hair in front of the mirror, Lois blanched in disgust at her appearance. Her eyes were bloodshot and she looked like she'd aged five years since she'd departed Metropolis instead of the six months she'd been in Gotham. With the aid of a wheelchair and Lois' well-timed distraction of the night watchman stationed at the front desk, Alfred had secreted Bruce out of her condominium in the dead of the night. Lois had gone to sleep with the aid of two percocets and another bottle of chardonnay.
"So this is what it means to be involved with a superhero?" she asked her reflection, then took a quick, disgusted glance at the bloodstain on her carpet. "Doesn't seem worth it, does it?"