Chapter Two
"So, you're meaning to say you've spent all this time in Tibet?" I asked, wrapping my fingers around a steaming cup of Alfred's famous hot chocolate-made with my absolute favorite: condensed milk. The whipped cream swirled on top had long since melted into the rich goodness of the drink. Now, the delicious liquid soothed my aching throat as I curled my legs up under me as I stared-still in disbelief-at the man across from me.
He nodded and looked down into the mug of chocolate. "And other places. Bhutan. India a little. But mostly Tibet."
I nodded slowly and sipped my drink, swallowing the liquid and letting it burn a path through my frazzled nerves. "What have you been doing exactly? I mean, why didn't you come home? What was so wonderful that kept you away from Gotham?" I felt as though I was bombarding the poor man, but he did in fact owe me an explanation-he was my best friend after all.
He was quiet a long moment, as if debating whether or not he should tell me. The room was quiet between us; Rachel had stayed only a few hours before being called away to work at the DA office. I'd made myself at home in the den. Bruce had started a fire in the cold fireplace, which now crackled melodically and cast shadows over his complexion. He turned to gaze into the dancing flames, and I looked between the fire and him. Something in the back of my head told me his eight years away were not for leisure-he'd changed somehow, his persona-I just had no idea what had changed.
Yet.
I wiggled my chilled toes underneath me. "I thought you were dead, Bruce." I looked to the floor, my tone as somber as the statement I'd just made. A chill dashed up my spine as the memory of the certificate of death flashed before my eyes. "We all did."
He looked back at me and leaned back in his place on the sofa. He blinked, expression soft, then smiled slightly at me. Bruce chuckled and tapped the edge of his mug with his index finger. "That I never would have guessed," he rubbed his jawline, "you losing faith in me."
My head shot up. "I never once lost faith in you, Bruce," I sighed and set the mug on the sidetable with a soft clack. "I lost track of you. There is a complete difference. Someone can only be gone so long before thoughts begin to roam out of control. After you never replied to my letters I'd began to think that you'd...preferred to be left alone."
He blinked at me. "You wrote?"
I nodded. "Mhm. Lot's of times, actually." I pulled my jacket tighter around me. "You never got any of my letters?"
Bruce shook his head. "No. I didn't have much communication with the outside world."
I gaffawed. "Really? Bruce Wayne, dropped off the face of the earth? No outward communications? Unbelievable." My joke went unappreciated and died in the air. I looked to the fire and tilted my head to the side. Warmth radiated through my body, and contentment settled in my stomach. Curley sat before the fire, snoring slightly; the excitement of the day complete with the introduction to a new person.
"But," Bruce added quietly in between sips, "I'd thought I'd see you married with kids by now." he looked to my left hand and then wiggled his ring finger. "No band?"
I chuckled and situated myself into the soft Persian furniture. I shook my curls and rested my head against the back of the chair. "Me? Marriage? No, no. I've spent my time in school, and on the range," I chuckled and twisted one of my brunette locks around my finger. "I was too busy to be romanced."
"That I don't believe," he added quickly.
I shrugged a shoulder, "Believe what you want, Bruce. It's true. I never once dated anyone while you were away. I kept myself occupied elsewhere." I pushed myself up off the couch and snapped my fingers. "Curley, up." The dog responded by rising slightly to his haunches and stretching out the sleep from his muscles. I smoothed my pants and bent to scratch between his ears. "I was too busy worrying about you and completing college."
He got up and followed me to the foyer. "So, there was no one?"
I shook my head. "No. Just friends," I said quietly. "You never answered my question."
He smiled and a chuckle escaped him. "Which ones?"
I smiled back. "The one about your activities in Tibet. Romancing any foreign women? Feeding the poor? Carrying on the Wayne name overseas?" I asked dramatically. My tone was meloncoly though; I reasoned it was the shock dying in my emotions. Bruce shrugged a shoulder and put his hands in his pockets.
"No," he said quietly, "I was..."
"Was...?" I continued. He looked away and I followed his gaze. It landed on the large portrait of Martha and Thomas Wayne painted at the top of the elegant staircase. "Hello? Bruce?"
He snapped his attention back to me. "Oh, sorry. I was...finding myself, I guess," he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.
I rolled my eyes. "Typical Bruce answer," I looked to the grandfather clock. "But, hey. I'd better get going. My apartment needs some serious unpacking, and I have an appointment at the range." I opened my arms and he did the same, welcoming me in for another tight hug. "I missed you, Bruce," I said on an exhale. I closed my eyes and took in his scent, as if he'd be gone in an instant. "I'm glad you're home."
He chuckled and patted my back with a strong hand. "I missed you too, Marty. And it's good to be home. Gotham is where I belong."
I pulled back from him and smiled. "It's where we all belong, Bruce. Gotham is-like an addiction. Once you get some, you can't get enough," I touched his cheek with my hand and ran my thumb over the small cut I'd left. I wrinkled my nose. "Sorry 'bout that."
He waved it off. "I don't blame you." he took my hand and squeezed it. "I'll see you later, Marty. Be safe."
I shrugged. "Naturally." I looked around the foyer to see that Alfred had joined us, Curley awaiting the door to be opened for our departure. I turned on my heel and approached Alfred, opening my arms until I could take him in a hug. "Bye, Alfred. I'll be seeing you."
"And I you, young lady." he kissed my forehead. "Be a good girl."
I nodded firmly. "Will do. Keep him reigned in, will you? I can't be losing him again," I winked at Alfred. "Thank you, Alfred."
"My pleasure, miss." He kissed my hand and released it dramatically. He opened the door and stepped aside, allowing Curley and I passage. I made my way out onto the porch when a light, shrieking squealing pierced my ears overhead. I looked up to see a flittering, screaming black bat pulsating its wings quickly through the air around the banastal of the porch. I wrinkled my nose and shook my curls. "Poor thing. Has no idea what it got itself into," I shrugged a shoulder and smiled at the two men watching me in the doorway. "See you around."
"Bye," Bruce waved. I hurried down the steps, Curley bouncing around my until I made it to my car. I popped open the driver's side and Curley hustled inside, and I was about to slip in when I spotted Bruce and Alfred still watching me go. Before exiting, I wiggled my fingers in a good-bye wave and dipped into the car.
Letting the binoculars focus in on the figure below, he watched as she unlocked the hatchback window and placed the black bow inside, along with the worn quiver from over her shoulder. With a quick remark to the range owner, she saluted and jogged around to the driver's side door.
"Is she leaving?" the man on the other end of the cell phone demanded. Narrowing his eyes, he glared at the device in his hand from the corner of his eye and removed the binoculars.
"Yes, she's leaving," he replied calmly.
"Where's she going?"
"I'd assume she's going home," he added soothingly.
"Is she onto anything? Do you know if she-"
He sighed and rolled his eyes, turning away from the ledge of the building. "All I know is that she visisted Wayne this afternoon for a couple of hours," he scribbled something in an overly used composition notebook, "That's all my man could find out."
"Do not interrupt me!" he chastised, "Wayne? He's back?" the man questioned in disbelief. "Already?"
"Mhm."
He cursed on the other end of the line. Then he collected himself and sighed. "That's fine. There is still time then. Do you have the itinerary of the shipment?"
"Yes. Stored away for safekeeping; until a little later."
"And the formula?"
"Good and ready. All I need is a few tests subjects." he closed the notebook with a slap and slipped the pen into his breast pocket. "And those won't be too hard to come by."
"Excellent. I'll leave you to it. Do not wrong me."
"Oh," he replied with a chuckle as he made his way from the top of the building, "I assure you, you will not be disappointed."
Droplets of water hit the cave floor and echoed across the stone sanctuary, the trouble light and other light suppliers casting eerie shadows across the monstrous stone walls. In the deeper bowels of the cave distant shrieks of dwelling bats lightly rang across the expanse of natural room. The dankness of the place made it incredibly difficult to breathe, and the stench of mold, musky air burned one's lungs after short exposure. But, the true problem laid in the horrible VRRRRRRR of the grinding machine that Bruce was consistently using.
Alfred was busy unpacking boxes filled with the pre-ordered and "special delivery" black masks of which his charge had so secretively purchased out from under Wayne Enterprises. They'd arrived with the shipment of supplies this morning at the loading bay, where Lucius Fox was able to sweep them down into Applied Sciences before anyone had gotten suspicious of the new arrivals. The outcome of black bat-like masks was grim; the prognosis: unusable. The chemical balances in the masks was far too weak and unstable to be used in the manor Bruce had intended. So, they'd figured out the problem in the molding and had sent for a thousand more to be delivered tomorrow evening.
Now, bent over the grinding wheel, Bruce worked tediously on a small, bat-shaped tool. Alfred stopped his work and put on his safety goggles, then approached and looked over his charge's work. Bruce stopped and ran his finger over the golden metal, letting his fingertips grace the pointed edges of the gadget. Alfred dared to ask the next question, and did so carefully.
"Why bats, Master Bruce?"
Bruce removed his goggled and set them on the table, and then looked to his friend. "Bats frighten me," he replied quietly, looking back to the tool. With a flick of his wrist, the instrument went soaring and collided with a patch of stone about ten feet from their table. Alfred stared at the protruding object with interest and then Bruce smiled ruefully at the tool he'd dubbed the "batarang".
"And it's time my enemies shared my dread."
Carefully she removed the top of the box she'd stored hidden away in the secretive part of her closet, staring down at the black fabric so blatantly awaiting her use. For years she'd kept this here; out of reach, safe from discovery. The night had never been her ally, had never been an option. It'd been so long since she'd worn the uniform; bore the name of the Reacher's on her breast. She'd forgotten the power that had come with the mask. The power behind the identity she'd become so many years before.
She removed it from the box and set it out on the bed. She paced in front of it for what seemed like an hour, but in reality it was only a few minutes. She stopped, stood and stared at the menacing uniform before her and then approached the bed. Placing her hands on either side of the eye mask, she stared down at the faceless identity waiting for her to dawn. Closing her eyes, she exhaled and then looked to the ceiling.
"God, help me," she prayed.
Then, grabbing the mask in her fingers, she slipped it into place.
