Zatanna
Wayne Manor
More sleep. Need more sleep.
After Bruce left, she flopped over on her side and dozed back off with the baby no longer dancing around in her belly. She was out cold when she felt the bed move.
Home already?
She rolled over and glanced at him through half-open eyes. Her mind was still in a deep fog from sleep, but she thought he looked angry, which likely meant that the meeting went sideways. She reached her hand out to beckon him back to bed, but he sat and stared at her. He reached under the covers and ran his soft, smooth hand up her leg to her thigh. The soft, smooth hand reached under the waistband of her panties. He climbed on top of her and kissed her, trapping her with his weight and staring at her with his lifeless eyes.
Soft hands. Lifeless eyes. No. Wrong.
The fog immediately lifted from her brain and she shoved against his shoulders and started to speak. Before she could get a word out, his hand clamped over her mouth and he waved a knife in front of her face. From the corner of her eye, she saw a black flash fly in and latch onto his shoulder. The cat clawed and hissed before the stranger with Bruce's face slashed at him with the knife and sent him, slashed open and bloody, smashing into the wall. She screamed in horror against the hand over her mouth and threw a fist at his eye, opening a gash. She kept swinging and fighting until he pressed the knife against her stomach.
"Hush, you fucking witch. If you don't stop fighting me, I'll cut the baby from you and throw it out of the window." His voice was rough and harsh. The face...the one she had seen at the morgue...was hovering two inches in front of hers. "Do you understand me?" She fell still and nodded. "Do you believe me?" Another nod. "Good. Because first I'm going to cut your tongue out. Then I'm going to fuck you while you choke on your own blood. Then I'll cut the baby out and throw it from the window."
The knife moved from her stomach to her throat as he forced a knee up between her legs to move them apart. He smiled the same cold smile she remembered from the mirror. "This is going to be so fucking good," he whispered, smelling her hair. "There's nothing like the real thing."
She tried to control her panic as he touched her and cut her shirt open. The cat's crying was fading to a low groaning sound from the corner. She knew she was too trapped by his weight and the knife to fight her way free without risking injury to the baby, so instead, she moved her hand away from the killer and started to shape her fingers. Remembering the skill she had taught herself in high school, she carefully finger spelled the words: NAMTAB EMOH.
Bruce
Wayne Tower
"The plans look good," Bruce said, standing over the blueprints laid out on the conference table. The building would be state-of-the-art and take up most of a block. Headhunters were already recruiting the best minds in tech development (outside of Lucius, of course), and all he needed to do was give his okay. "What's the total cost to get everything up and running?"
"Conservatively, $4 billion," his chief financial officer said.
"How about unconservatively?" He asked her.
"Six, maybe. If we're being realistic probably around five if everything goes well and we stay on schedule."
"Worth it?"
"Financially, yes. It's a significant investment, but you'll start making money from the moment the doors open."
"Lucius?"
"If you want to expand tech and grow the company's profile, this is the chance to do it. I think we'd be crazy not to," he replied with a smile. He was obviously fully on board with the idea.
"Let me see the financial breakdown again," he said. As he walked toward the CFO, he felt a sudden dropping feeling in his stomach and was instantly in the foyer of the manor – fully dressed as Batman and stumbling from the sudden, unexpected transport. He crashed over into a table and Alfred quickly appeared around the corner.
"Master Bruce? I don't...you were just..." His eyes grew wide and he looked toward the staircase. "You just went upstairs not five minutes ago. To the bedroom. You said you forgot something."
Zee.
He was immediately in a dead sprint toward the steps, leaping them four at a time and barreling down the hall. When he crashed through the door, he found a man that looked like his twin on top of Zatanna, pressing a knife to her neck and holding a hand over her mouth. Before the attacker could react, he had him by the throat and ripped the knife from his hand. He slammed his fist into his face and threw him across the room, where his body hit the wall so hard that the drywall crumbled behind him. Bruce walked over to him and brought his fist down on his stolen face repeatedly until he was sure that he was down for the count. It had only been a few seconds and when he turned back around, Zatanna was climbing from the bed and running to the other side of the room.
"No! No, no, no. Please!"
She crouched down over a bleeding Asshole and put her hands over him. From what Bruce could tell, he was too far gone to save, slashed open all the way down his side and not moving. He walked closer as she whispered and her usual glow engulfed the bloody cat. The room fell quiet when she finished and she stayed over him, staring down at his healed, but motionless, body.
"You can't fucking do this to me, you stupid cat," she said, crying and shaking. She picked him up and clutched him to her chest. The shirt she was wearing had been cut up the front and there was blood coming from her neck and side.
"You're hurt," Bruce said, moving to crouch next to her as she rocked the cat back and forth.
"Please," she whispered as she cried into his fur. "Please no."
He reached forward and pushed her hair back from her neck to check her wound. It wasn't deep, nor was the one on her side – likely just from the pressure of the knife against her skin as the killer tried to control her.
"Zee. I think he's..." An annoyed growling sound interrupted his words when the cat finally started breathing again. Zatanna cried out and buried her face in his fur as he looked at her like she'd lost her mind.
"Don't ever do something stupid like that again, you crazy jerk," she said through her tears. From the look on Asshole's face, he didn't seem to have any memory of whatever had happened. His sour face was just as sour as ever and he was less than thrilled to be the victim of her hug.
"Zee? Hey, look at me." She kept her face buried in the fur, so he grabbed her robe and draped it over her shoulders. "Stand up. Come on."
He lifted her to her feet and walked her toward the door. When he turned her to face him, she finally looked up. "You okay?"
"I'm fine, Zee. You're the one who was attacked."
"No, I'm alright. The cat got the worst of it." Her eyes were still red and teary, but she seemed less terrified than he felt.
"You're bleeding."
She looked at her side and shrugged. "Just a little cut. I'll fix it."
"What did he do to you?"
"Not much. Didn't have time to. Just touched me and kissed me. Threatened me." The cat was still grumbling at her as she squeezed him, but he wasn't likely to get free anytime soon.
"What did he say?" Her brow furrowed and she shook her head, but he held her gaze. "Tell me."
She lowered her eyes to the floor and sighed. "He said he would cut my tongue out, fuck me while I died, and kill our baby."
His anger flared and he clutched his fists at his side. He'd never wanted to kill someone so much in his life. "What else?"
"Something about me being 'the real thing'." She stroked the cat's head, eyes still lowered. "I'm sorry."
"What?"
"You were right. He was out to get me. I should have listened to you."
"Look at me," he said sharply. Her red eyes looked into his. "None of this...none of it...is your fault. Do you hear me?"
"Yeah," she whispered.
"Go downstairs and let Alfred check you out while I take care of this," he said, kissing her forehead.
"No. I'm staying."
"Zatanna? Please take our son downstairs." His hand went to her stomach as he spoke and her eyes got wider.
"Okay," she said, turning toward the stairs.
Once she was down the hall, he turned back to the bedroom and walked to where the unconscious man was lying on the floor. His stolen face was mangled from the punches and he had brace on his wrist from where they had shattered it at the house fire. Bruce leaned down and reached for his cuffs, but they weren't on his belt. Almost nothing was on his belt aside from his grappling gun. He reached into the nightstand and grabbed the cuffs he and Zatanna used when making love and slapped them on the killer's wrists. A quick search of his pockets produced only a cell phone and car keys.
It's over.
After months of murders and fruitless attempts at capture, the killer was cuffed and unconscious at his feet...in his home...in his bedroom. In all of his hunting he had never imagined just how much it all had to do with Zatanna and him.
Why?
There were a million questions he needed answered, starting with the stolen face. He grabbed the killer by his ankles and pulled him to the elevator down the hall. He rode to the first floor and found Zatanna sitting in the study with a blood pressure cuff on one arm, while the other still clutched a very distressed cat.
"Who is he?" Alfred asked, walking back in with a stack of Zee's clothing.
"I don't know. I need to get downstairs. My tools aren't in my belt."
Zatanna looked down at his belt and studied it a moment. "Huh. I guess I've never really paid attention to what all you carry."
"Got the grappling gun right," he said with a grin. "How did you even get me here?"
"Finger spelling...sign language. I learned it years ago, but it's been a while since I used it. Thankfully Batman is pretty easy to spell backward. Figured getting you here was the best option."
"What will you do with him?" Alfred asked.
"I'm not sure. Take him down to the lockup in the cave for now. I won't have anymore trouble getting fingerprints. Once I know who he really is, I'll go from there."
"Miss Zatanna is fine. I've dressed her wounds and she can see to them when she has the energy."
"Thanks, Alfred."
Zatanna was still sitting and stroking the cat's fur, but seemed to be fine, as Alfred had reported. He walked forward and wrapped his arms around her, taking a moment to hold her and be her Bruce before he had to retreat back into his alter ego.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. For the first time, he thought about how close he had been to losing her and their son...right in his own home. "I'm sorry he got in here. Sorry I wasn't home."
"You can't blame yourself, Bruce. There's no way you could have known," she said, resting her head on his chest. "I do have a request, though. I know we talked about wards around the manor and you said no and we didn't need them, but..."
"Anything you want," he said with a lump in his throat, realizing that the killer never would have gotten in if he hadn't stubbornly refused the magical barriers before. "Please."
"Okay. I won't overdo it." Asshole grumbled between them, so he released his grip on her and patted his head. "He attacked the guy like a moron."
"He'll never forgive you for holding him so long."
"He can add it to the list of grievances," she said, scratching his ears. "You'd better get to work. I want to know who that mother fu...jerk...is."
"You had it right the first time. I'll take care of it. Rest up and heal your neck and side when you can, please." He gave her a quick kiss and turned back to the elevator. When he arrived in the cave, he dragged the killer across the floor and down the hall to the holding cell. It wasn't something he had used often, but was necessary when he needed to keep control of someone before, or instead of, handing them over to the police. He tossed the unconscious body on the floor of the cell and went to the computer to run prints, scan the phone, and call the rest of his family. They were about to be very happy to get a few more days off a week.
The Killer
A Cell
That could have gone better.
He couldn't tell where he was other than a small cell. The last thing he remembered seeing was Batman's furious eyes as he bashed his fist against his head.
"Look at me."
The bat-clad freak was standing on the other side of the bars.
"No surprise she summoned you instead of her useless, spoiled rich kid of a fiance." He struggled to sit up and lean against the bed. "Couldn't have tossed me onto the mattress, huh?"
"Why?"
"Would have been softer, you moron."
"Why did you attack her? Why did you steal Bruce Wayne's face?"
"Oh, that. If you think I'm going to tell you, you're even dumber than you look in that getup." His hand went up to assess the damage to his reconstructed face. Gonna have to reconstruct it again.
"You're Thomas Elliot. You grew up with Bruce Wayne. You were friends. Why did you do this?"
Fighting the pain, he crawled up onto the bed and laid down. "You can ask me questions all damn day and I still won't tell you a thing."
"Then I'll leave you here to rot. You like dog food?"
"How about cat food?" He said with a smile. "Zatanna won't be needing it."
"Actually, she will. The cat's fine."
"Heh. Right. I sliced that stupid thing from head to tail. You should have seen the look in her eyes when it went flying." He laughed and let his head fall against the mattress.
"You don't know much about Zatanna Zatara if you think she can't heal a cat." Batman smirked at him and paced in front of the cell. "Pretty lazy, really...not knowing your target. Sounds like something a child would do."
Thomas rolled his eyes at the arrogant prick. "Don't bother trying to use your psychological tricks on me. They won't work."
"Yeah? That's actually good news. Guess I'll just have to beat it out of you."
He ripped the door open and grabbed him by the neck, dragging him out onto the floor and kicking him in the stomach.
"Real nice, hero," he said between gasps for air. Another strike to the jaw and he was coughing up blood and gagging.
"I'm no hero," Batman roared. "I'm a vigilante. Let me show you the difference." Two more strikes to the face and he was spitting out teeth. "How long did it take?" Another strike. "How many surgeries?" Another. "How many punches until I undo it all?" Another.
He felt his broken wrist being further crushed and cried out. The sound echoed through the cold chamber he was being held in.
"You're fucking insane!"
The freak leaned down close to his ear and pulled his head up by his hair. "What gave it away? The cape or the mask?"
There wasn't a chance to answer before he was flying through the air into the stone wall. "You sick bastard," he groaned through the pain.
"Tell me why you did this!" Batman yelled as he picked him up by his collar and dangled him against the wall. "Tell me!"
"I'll never talk to you. I'll only talk to them."
"Who?" He growled.
"Bruce Fucking Wayne and that witch he's engaged to."
"You won't get anywhere near them."
"Then you can beat me till I'm dead. I won't talk to anyone else."
Zatanna
Wayne Manor
Bruce had been down in the cave for hours. There was a part of her that wanted to be there as he questioned the man who had attacked her, but an even bigger part that was afraid to face him again. She realized she had been naive for thinking that leaving the Justice League would help to rid her of enemies. There would always be enemies...people who hated her or envied her power. She just wanted to keep her son safe, but she knew that would be a monumental task. Too many people knew. She sat in the nursery cradling The Nameless Cat, who had resigned himself to forever being cuddled and was asleep in her arms, when she heard the elevator ascending well after midnight.
"You should be asleep," Bruce said as he entered, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt.
"I didn't want to sleep alone," she said as he sat down next to her and pulled her to lean back against his chest.
"You have your fearless defender in your arms. Nothing to fear." His hand stroked her hair as the other rubbed her stomach.
"He's an idiot. A bold one, but an idiot."
"He loves you."
"Don't let him hear you say that or he'll attack you, too." They were silent for several minutes before she decided she would have to drag information out of him or be left wondering. "Who is he?"
He sighed heavily, taking far too long to speak. "His name is Thomas Elliot. I grew up with him."
"Thomas?"
"Yeah. If you want to rethink the whole name thing..."
"No, of course not. We're naming him after your father, not some friend." Admittedly, it was a bit ironic, but the name was set in stone, as far as she was concerned. "Keep going."
"We were close...best friends. He was really the only friend I had growing up. Most of the other kids didn't know how to be around me."
"Why's that?"
"Money. There's never been a lot of really wealthy families in Gotham City. I was an outsider, in a way, but so was Tommy. His family was wealthy, too, so he didn't care...or at least I thought he didn't."
He fell quiet again, hands continuing to gently stroke her hair and stomach. "So you had a falling out?"
I learned how to interrogate from the best.
"To make a long story short, his family was rich, but wasn't happy. His father was a violent drunk and his mother was too in love with money to get them out. When his father was killed in a car wreck, my dad was sure Tommy had something to do with it. I'm beginning to think he was right."
"Doesn't sound like any of that was your fault," she said, putting her hand over his as it made circles on her swollen belly.
"It wasn't, but apparently he's holding a grudge about something. He's not after you so much as he's after me. You're mine, so..."
"Don't. Don't try to blame yourself for this," she said pointedly.
"Hard not to do that, considering." His lips pressed against the top of her head.
"What else?"
"I don't know yet. He won't talk to me...or rather won't talk to Batman. He wants to talk to Bruce."
Zatanna shifted to look at his face; he was hiding something. "And?"
"You."
She recoiled slightly at the thought, but knew they needed him to talk. "Let's go."
His arms wrapped around her, stopping her from standing. "No. He's not getting anywhere near you again. Ever."
"You'll be there and he'll be in a cell. It's fine, Bruce."
"I said no," he said through clinched teeth. "He can rot in that cell."
Shifting her weight, she curled up against him and closed her eyes. She knew he wouldn't be satisfied with anything other than the whole story of what the killer had planned and done. "We can talk more tomorrow. Is it okay if we sleep in here? I haven't fixed the bedroom yet."
His arms tightened around her. "Yes. I'll get someone to come in and fix it tomorrow. Save your strength. I'm glad you had enough to get me here today. And to save the cat."
"Me too," she whispered, already fading. "I love you." The day ahead would be long and there would likely be several arguments about her involvement, but for the moment, she was glad to be safe and with him.
Bruce
Nursery
There wouldn't be any rest tonight...too many questions. Tommy had been his best friend for several years, and he remembered him being troubled, but this? This was a different type of hatred and resentment. Bruce had always thought that they had lost touch more than had a falling out. Clearly, Tommy didn't feel the same way.
Watching Zatanna sleep, he wondered how she could possibly be so peaceful. She'd nearly died...their son had nearly been killed...but she was relaxed in his arms.
I never should have asked her to stay.
The guilt he felt when he thought about what almost happened caused the pounding in his head to return. If she'd gone back to San Francisco until he caught the killer, this never would have happened. Selfishly, he asked her to stay, and holding her close, he knew he would do the same again. The thought of being away from them was more than he could bear. For the first time since he'd lost his parents, he was willingly accepting weakness and love over reason.
No going back now.
Dawn breaking ended his thoughts; there was much to do in the day ahead, starting with a return to Wayne Tower to finish the meeting he had vanished from. Alfred had called and said that there was an emergency with Zatanna's health, but that all was well now and he would be in the next day to finish deciding on the expansion. He wanted to stay and pressure Elliot more, but knew he had to take care of business first. The killer was locked away, so he could spare the time.
There are a lot of things I can spare time for now.
He slipped out from under Zatanna and her cat prisoner, pecking her on the lips before heading to the bedroom. There was blood on the bed and where the cat had hit the wall. The impact point on the opposite side of the room was deep and there was another pool of blood where he had bashed his former friend's face in. He didn't want Zee to fix it or even see it, so he called a repairman to come in and repair it all within 12 hours (without asking questions) for more money than he would see the rest of the year. Once he had arrived and started the reconstruction effort, Bruce left for work. The expansion was approved and he was looking forward to seeing the high-tech building in a year. Lucius was giddy, as expected, and had already started to argue for a split schedule between the new building and Gotham.
"Just think of the new tech I can create for you and the League," he said, knowing Bruce would cave if it meant Batman would be more powerful.
"I'll think about it. For now, let's focus on finding the land and getting this little project underway."
"You have several options. Just outside of Los Angeles, right in the middle of San Diego, or on the south side of San Francisco. Or, if none of those are to your liking, we can keep our search going."
"Your thoughts?"
"It's tech, so Silicon Valley is ideal."
"Hmm...Zatanna would like it. She has a place in San Francisco," he thought, knowing she would love being back in her other home town as often as possible.
"Even better. How is the future Mrs?"
"She's good. Baby will be here before long," he said, leafing through the paperwork again.
"And how does the future Mr feel about that?"
"Excited. Terrified."
"Sounds pretty reasonable, all things considered," Lucius said, heading toward the door. "You lead interesting lives."
"You don't know the half of it," Bruce mumbled as he exited. Left sitting alone in his office, he thought ahead to how he was going to deal with Elliot. As much as he wanted to leave him to rot, he knew that wouldn't end things. Someone had helped him escaped...someone who had been nearby when the house went up in flames. That meant he needed to know who that someone was in case they came calling, too. It wasn't really over...not yet...not until he knew who else was involved.
No loose ends. Not this time.