Chapter Fourteen

"Master Bruce?"

Bruce jerked awake, blinking his eyes against the dim lighting that the "Batcave" provided. Alfred had been kind enough to light a few lamps and candles around to brighten up the dank cavern when Marianne awoke. Bruce scratched his head and realized he'd dozed off sometime during his wait. Where he fell asleep was what surprised, him the fact that he had fallen asleep did not.

He rolled back in the computer chair, letting his still-suited arms drop from the exam table where Marianne slept. Bruce stretched his arms high above his head and let his shoulder pop obnoxiously. He scratched the back of his neck and yawned, watching as Alfred graciously set a folded towel and some other fabrics at Marianne's feet. He wrinkled his brow. Immediately a brightly colored pair of shoes caught his attention. Alfred had been out shopping? He'd really fallen asleep that long? Apparently so, because he quickly noticed Alfred had changed his clothing into more appropriate, formal attire.

"How long have I been out?" he asked groggily.

Alfred shrugged a shoulder. "An hour or two. Long enough for me to go and get some things for the doctor," he gestured to the clothing with his head. Bruce nodded and looked back to the unconscious Marianne, who rested peacefully (now) and snored slightly. He wondered briefly if he'd used too much Isoflurane, but doubted it. Pushing himself off the chair, he headed over to the computer console he'd had Lucius install for him and clicked the 'H' button on the keyboard. Immediately the Manor consumed the huge screen and multiple rooms filled the others. He watched as women and men hurried around his foyer and his kitchen, decorating and preparing his father's precious home for his birthday party. He sighed heavily and shook his head.

"Something bothering you, sir?" Alfred began to clean up a few things. He cleared away the table next to the computer console, replacing a few pens and blueprints and a few metal shavings from freshly ground batarangs. Finally he picked up the cowl and approached Bruce, setting it in his hands and clasping Bruce's wrists with his hands. "You can tell me."

Bruce ran his thumb over the empty, barren eye of his mask. "I'll be thirty today, Alfred."

Alfred chuckled. "Ah, yes. Still young. I can remember when I was thirty. Life was wonderful." he turned from his master and began tidying again, shuffling papers and charts and running his wrinkled hand across the stain-less steel of the console. "I became a father when I was twenty-nine, you know."

Bruce looked up at his friend. "You where a father?" he asked quizzically, setting the cowl on the console and shooting a look to Marianne. "Married?"

Alfred nodded slowly. "Yes, I was. Josephine was her name," he smiled slightly as the name crossed his lips. "She was wonderful. Gave me my first daughter. We named her Elizabeth Victoria, after the great queens of England." he looked up at Bruce and then went back to work. "We were happy. I worked at Buckingham, full time as a head-butler." he laughed. "We lived not to far. A few rooms down the street. Josephine stayed at home with Liz, took care of her. I'd come home in the evenings and read to the little one and we would sit as a family and play together."

Bruce's mouth upturned into a quirky smile. "That's great, Alfred."

Alfred nodded slowly, his smile fading as he spoke. "But, after Liz turned two, she...became ill." he swallowed a breath and then released another shaky one. "She contracted scarlet fever and passed. My dear Josie worked with her so long and stayed be her side daily. I worked longer hours to pay medical bills, but Liz never improved. Josie herself became ill, but no doctor could find anything wrong with her."

Bruce approached his butler and rested a hand on the man's shoulder, smiling weakly at him. This was information Alfred had never shared with him before, and he was touched to hear it. Alfred looked away as tears pooled in the corner of his eyes. "I'm sorry, Alfred. That's tragic."

He chuckled and shrugged. "It is."

"What happened to Josephine?"

Alfred looked up at him and a tear dripped down his wrinkled, sorrowful complexion. Bruce felt pain rise within his chest as emotion seized his heart like a giant serpent, constricting everything within him. "I'm afraid she..." he choked for words, "...my dear Josephine went to be with God not just a year after Lizzie died. I lived in England for another twenty-years before I came here, and your father employed me." he patted Bruce's cheek with his palm and smiled at him through his teary-face. "Soon after, you were born. I'll never forget how proud your father was."

Bruce nodded. Alfred had been twenty-nine was his daughter had been born. Thirty-one when she had died. His life had unfolded at that age, just started, but with a chapter of adolescent bachelorhood closed behind him. Bruce couldn't help but think of himself, and how he remained here, in a dank, cold-hearted cave, alone with no one but himself, Batman, and Alfred. He wondered where his life would be and how different the outcome would've been if his father and mother had remained alive. Batman may have never even become anything. By now he had approached Marianne, and rested his hand atop of hers. He noticed how bare her left hand was without a ring-one he'd imagined in his dreams of home and friends. Now it seemed wrong, like a disservice unto her. What had made her stay unwed for so long? He ran his thumb over her ring-finger. "I would've thought she'd had a family by now, Alfred," he scanned her face with his eyes, taking in the outline and all her features. "Why do you think she never married?"

Alfred voice came from across the room, echoing off the walls back at him. "Maybe she was waiting for the right person to come around," his thick accent turned serious as he approached the head of the table. "or perhaps...she was waiting on someone."

Bruce shrugged a shoulder and thought about Rachel for a moment, how they'd dated in high-school and had promised each other a future together and how he'd felt so right kissing her behind the bleachers during homecoming. Then suddenly he saw Marianne in the depths of his memory, standing alone in the sea of thrashing students, screaming for someone to notice her in her sheltered, alone state. He remembered how she'd failed to stay for the homecoming king and queen announcement at their senior prom.

Or how she'd always sat at the top of the bleachers, watching the football game alone, waiting for him as he'd left to "retrieve" some sodas when in all reality he was out fooling with the cheerleading squad, she forever the picturesque friend, never questioning his long absences. Then he saw her at Rachel's seventeenth birthday party, watching quietly from the shadows of the croquet game as he seductively leaned over Rachel's shoulder, whispering instructions on how to make the perfect put. Even at his nineteenth "birthday" celebration when he'd purchased an entire casino to celebrate and her refusal to play in his fun game of strip poker.

So, she'd remained invisible throughout their friendship, but when in all reality she'd been there, standing behind him, loving him through everything like a true friend should. And how he'd failed to even remember her acceptance into nursing school and what they'd done to celebrate. What kind of fool was he? Wasn't it Rachel that had went off with the football jock after prom to "go out on the town" and had abandoned him on the gymnasium floor? Or when she'd approached him in Algebra II and announced she was dating the shop-master in shop class?

Fear grabbed his soul. "What have I done?" he murmured, "Alfred..." he looked over his shoulder, but his beloved friend had disappeared. Then he looked down to his friend and jerked his hand away from her face clutching his wrist and shaking his head. Then he grabbed at his hair and stepped back frantically, away from her and all the fear and emotion she possessed. He wrinkled his brow and forced the burning tears in his eyes to retreat to their depths.

She has always been yours,the voice stirred in his mind, bringing alarming peace to his flustered soul, since the beginning of time. She has, and always will be, hopelessly devoted to you; despite your shortcomings.

"No..." he told himself, unsure if this voice was him, the darkness preying on his mind, or the Almighty he'd abandoned so long ago. "...no. She's, she's not mine...she's not right for...me." he looked at the sleeping woman and swallowed thickly, heat dashing up his neck and blossoming across his face. "...Marianne's too good to be mine."

I don't make mistakes.

"You did with me," he whispered, "I have no life. No love. No...purpose beyond this." he slammed his palms into the kevlar suit and looked down. "There is no Bruce Wayne."

There has always been Bruce Wayne.

He shook his head. "No! Bruce died with his parents! This is who I am," he grabbed at his suit and then his hair. "I'm not that man anymore. And You're not...You're not the same! You're not the God I remember. Gracious and good...you took away my parents!"

The voice was silent as he continued on, tears burning down his face and tracing paths of hot salt down his skin. Everything seemed so dark and confusing. It seemed the air had turned to sulfur, burning his perpetual being into a smoldering pile of...nothing. He dropped to his knees and began to cry. The hurt of his parent's untimely death exploded within him; the sudden guilt of having left Marianne so far behind him bursting within his soul. Even Chill came back to his remembrance and how he'd wanted to murder him on trial. It all knotted into the pit of his stomach like a toxic acid eating away at the inner being of his emotions. The serpent wrapped around his heart squeezed tigther now, seeming to constrict all hope and breath from his chest. "You're...not the same..." he repeated woefully. "Not anything of which I remember..."

"I am who I am, Bruce. I change not. For everything there is a time and a season, and I long to draw you from this season. Remember Me and My goodness...all the things I have given unto you. Life. Freedom. Eternity. I have not changed, son...it is you who have left Me. Not I unto you.

He clawed at his scalp, trying to force the words from reaching his ears. He shook his head and began to rock back and forth, muttering the words over and over as if his mouth was a broken record player. "You took my parents...you took them away..."

I brought your parents unto Me! Away from all the wrong in the world. Thomas would've died if he would've lived to see Gotham fall so far. And you're mother...she would've perished if not for I. I saved your parents from a fate worse than death, Bruce.

"But You hurt me! You hurt ME!" he shouted, "I lost my parents that day, not You!"

I made you stronger! I give not what My children cannot handle, son. And I lost a Son...long ago on a cross. Who was beaten, abused, pierced and prodded for Gotham. For these people! For you. Do not think I care not for you...you are most precious to me, my son...and you are not alone. I knew you while you were in your mother's womb, and I know you now. Do not forsake me, Bruce.

"Uh..." the soft stirring came from ahead of him, and he whipped his attention up. Tears continued down his face and onto the stony floor, but the figure before him stirred slightly. Jumping to his haunches, he lunged for the console and grabbed the mask and donned it quickly. Making sure everything was in place, he gently picked her up and then set the clothing on her lap, taking the stairs carved into the stone walls up to the Manor. There Alfred met him and he took the doctor in his arms and Bruce swallowed thickly. Graciously patting her wild curls down with his hand, he lowered his head and planted a soft, lingering kiss on her lips; just enough to have heat flood through him like a tidal wave. He turned on his heel, his cape rustling behind him, leaving Alfred dumbfounded on the top of the steps.

"But her to bed, Alfred. I'll be up later."

He disappeared into the cave, punched the button on the wall, and the staircase vanished from Alfred's view.


Light found me shortly after I'd fallen asleep.

Sound had stirred in my ears; very muffled, unknown noise that I could identify in darkness. It reached out at me in all directions, plunging me deeper into confusion and haze. My mind had felt so heavy, like a thick brick sinking slowly into mire which couldn't be removed. Everytime I looked for the switch to turn on light, it was out of grasp and invisible unto me. Nothing I could do would pull me from darkness.

But then something soft-a breeze-cascaded down my face, seeming to wisp all of my problems away. In one sweeping instant, a hand appeared before me, one that was white and shining, with a hole pierced through the flesh and bone. It reached unto me through piercing light, into my darkness and beckoned unto me. I reached out to receive it, so weak and tired to move. The mire was thick and I was hardly able to breath much less move. But as this light broke through the darkness, the night shying away from it, peace wafted through me and my mind became clear. I squinted against this light until the hand reached mine and enveloped it. Instantly I was pulled from this mire and righted on firm soil, but fell to my knees. The clouds in my mind instantly disappated and all became clear again.

"Arise," the voice exclaimed unto me with loving sterness, "and go and spark the night."

Then, in a sweeping instant, everything disappeared.

I bolted upright, my hands finding soft ground beneath me. Sweat held my clothes tightly to my skin, keeping them close as if they'd be taken away from me. My heart thudded loudly in my chest and in my ears, blood coarsing through me. No longer did slithering creatures bite at my eyes...just my hair. I grabbed at my massive amount of curls and twisted them through my shaking fingers. I looked around me frantically, finding myself in Bruce's room, sitting up in his bed, covered with his silken comforter. One word formed on my lips and escaped my mouth.

"Batman."

"Doctor?" the knock was soft, but sent me yelping and stirring for grip on the comforter. Pulling it up to my neck, I swallowed and sat up on my knees, facing the door. I sighed and collected myself.

"Yes?"

The door opened and Alfred peeked his head in. A smile upturned his lips and he opened the heavy oak door wide, exposing his full, formal attired body. He entered and closed the door softly. "Good evening, doctor," he chuckled.

"Alfred," I said, relieved. I removed the comforter and hurried off the bed and rushed to him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I planted a quick kiss on his cheek and pulled away. "What happened?"

"Dr. Crane poisoned you with the same hallucinogen as Bruce," he explained quickly, gesturing for me to take the clothing in his hands. Wrinkling my brow, I accepted them from him. "He brought you here and innoculated you with Lucius' antidote."

I nodded, walking over to the nightstand and grabbing my glasses. I slid them on my face and set the clothing down. "Where's Crane? And Bruce? Did he get any information and what's going into the water and who Crane's contact is?"

Alfred looked overwhelmed by the amount of questions and raised his shoulders in reply. "I'm not sure-"

"Marty?"

I spun around and stared at the doorway, where Bruce casually leaned against the frame and smiled at me, eyes twinkling in the lamp lighting of the room. He'd had a a shower, slicked back his hair and his wonderfully spicy cologne swirled around the room and sent my senses sky-high. I swallowed thickly and tore my eyes off of him and hurried over to him, arms outstretched for a hug. "Hey you," I wrapped my arms around him and he enveloped me with one of his and squeezed tightly. "Happy birthday."

"I was worried about you," he changed the subject, pulling back and tucking a curl behind my ear. "What happened?"

"A long, pitiful story," I touched his cheek and wrinkled my nose, "That I'll regail you with later." I noticed that music cascaded up the corridor and into my room, and light chattering accompanied it. I slapped his shoulder playfully and frowned at him. "You left your guests? Get down there and have your party," I shooed him out of the door-frame, "I'll be down shortly."

"Hey, wait a minute," he chuckled, placing his well-polished Italian leather shoe between the door and the frame before I could close it. "I can't go down there without my date, can I? People are already talking..."

"Date?" I choked out the words, swinging the door wide, "What date? Where is she?" I shouldered past him and entered the hallway, clothed in nothing more than a white tank top from Appay's and my previous flair pants. I wrinkled my brow, somewhat agitated he'd chosen someone over Rachel, and spun on my heel to face him. "What's her name?"

He blinked at me and then burst out laughing. I balled my fists and propped them up on my hips, and he walked towards me, taking my hand in his and leading back to his room. Bruce just shook his head and wrapped his index finger around one of my curls and tugged playfully. I tried to force a smile back, but didn't. Was I dreaming this moment? I didn't think so, because never before in my dreams did I see two chocolate color eyes stare at me so fondly before during slumber. I swallowed thickly again. "What's so funny?"

"You are, Little Bird," he used his childhood nickname for me when we played cowboys and Indians. I'd always be the chief's daughter, the expert archer, while he'd be the dashing cowboy-and Rachel my prisoner. He'd always come crashing in to save her, killing me and my "father" in the end. Rachel would have her hero and her storybook ending while I'd get eaten by buzzards. All in all it had been fun when we were younger, and I'd acquired the nickname Little Bird from then on, compaired to Marty and Marianne, my two names used in adolesence and adulthood.

I dared to jar back, "And why's that? What's so funny about asking to meet your date?"

A smile played onto his lips, and stars erupted into his eyes. "Because you are my date." With that, he released my curls and turned from me, walking to the armoire and pulling it open. My mouth dropped open, and my eyes widened. Alfred chuckled at me and I looked to him, and he nodded slowly as if this were no joke. I froze, perpetually motionless, for all feeling had left my legs. Had my heart seized? My index and middle finger flew to my neck, where I pressed them just below my jawline, and felt my pulse hammering away against my skin. Nope, I was still alive, and this wasn't a dream.

"Me? You're date?" I asked. My tone as apparently astounded, because Bruce looked at me as if he were offended. "Are you crazy?"

"Why would I be crazy?" he chuckled, pulling some things out of the armoire and approached me again. He handed me a set of clothing and leaned forward, planting a kiss on my forehead. Then, he patted my cheek in a fatherly fashion and stepped by me. "Be down before they serve the cake, eh?"

I rolled my eyes. "I still think you're crazy,"

"Think what you want," he grabbed the knob on the door and began closing it, "but you're still my date." with that, he winked and the door clicked into place. "Don't be long!"

I swallowed and looked at Alfred. "How on earth am I going to do this?"

Alfred walked towards me, grabbed my shoulders gently and patted my shoulder reassuringly. "I'll help you. Besides, this can't be much harder than roughing up some thugs, right?"

"Oh," I rolled my eyes and hurried towards the bathroom, "this will be much harder, I assure you, Alfred."

I closed the doors a little too hard.

Twenty minutes later, I was descending the stairs, feeling very much like an overly primped Theresa Doll.

Bruce had selected a sweeping evening gown, much to my dismay. It was floor-length, Egyptian silk, and somewhat revealing at the top. But, thankfully, Bruce was always the gentleman, and had kept it appropriate enough for my approval. The gown was sleeveless, and Alfred had awarded me with a beautifully designed amathyst to wear around my neck-an eagle's claw wrapped protectively around the jewel the size of a fifty-cent piece.

But, what was most horrifying about my gown was this: it was black, with a cluster of flowers and pearls at the bust. Not that the cluster was terrible...it was the tall slit ending just above the other knee.

Not that the dress' design was terrible. It was beautiful in itself. It fasted around my neck, leaving my shoulders bare, making me feel very exposed but no humiliated. And my shoes...they were completely petrifying!

At least for inches tall, they were the deep purple of the flowers of my gown, but with cream colored vines running across the toes and down the heel of the shoe. I'd never worn such tall things-but I'd managed nicely. My training had left me with impeccable balance, which meant that I could handle this with no problems asked.

I forced my fingers from not gripping the railing going down the stairs. I let my hand slide slowly down as I descended, keeping my eyes on the horizon of people and a smile on my face. I looked down, only to watch my shoes clack against the marble staircase, thinking this was the biggest mistake my life. I swallowed and looked back up, only to find Bruce before me, finding that I'd come to the last step before it transformed onto the floor before me.

He extended a gentle hand, and I wrapped mine in his. He raised my knuckles to his lips and kissed gently, and tossed me up a half-smile. I smiled back at him gently, a blush cascading up my neck and blossoming onto my cheeks. Bruce's eyes twinkled, and he helped me onto the floor. Instantly Alfred handed me champagne glass and raised it.

"And now the life of the party has arrived!" he announced cheerfully. A round of applause clapped the room, jolting me in my shoes. Laugher bubbled up from my chest and escaped me before I could force it back and I relished in the moment as Bruce wrapped my arm through his. He squeezed my hand interlaced our fingers I felt my stomach drop into a melting pile of girlish emotion.

The crowd began to disperse again as Bruce paraded me through his guests, introducing me to people I recognized. The Mayor and his family, a few of Thomas' friends, people from the Enterprise, and so on. I smiled and made pleasant conversation with the people, recognizing many of them and not having a clue who half or them where. Bruce patiently filled me in as we walked, whispering in my ear as if we were in the shadows, observing everything. I smiled and nodded as he pointed and he chuckled.

"Bruce, darling! Have you met this gentleman yet?" a woman with fiery, red, frizzy curls pulled back into a pearl clip hurried towards us, waving her hand frantically above the heads of the other guests. "Here, darling, over here!"

He chuckled and took my hand, and we wove through the people. I was careful not to bump anyone, minding my new dress and the other people's glorious attire. I handed my empty glass off to a waitress and stopped up alongside Bruce, who stood frozen in place. His eyes were somewhat widened and he paled considerably. I wrinkled my brow and squeezed his hand. "Bruce?"

I listened to her continue on. "Am I pronouncing this right...Mr. Ducard?" She left as another woman waved her over. I stared at the man, tilted my head to the side, and found him staring intently at me as well. I swallowed and looked down and he stook half-a-step forward, reaching for my hand and bowing at the waist.

"Hello, ma'dam," he said, his accent thick. I recognized it as Irish, perhaps from the Northern areas, and he had a particularly peculiar dark twinkle to his eyes. Overall, is wrinkling features and greying hair, he wasn't overly unattractive. Actually...he was very attractive. Almost seductive. Then suddenly an elderly Asian Man appeared and bowed before me. "May I ask you name? Or, perhaps such beauty has no name at all?"

I blushed profusely. "My name? Oh, Marianne. Marianne Lancer," I said sheepishly, "And who're you?" The attractive man smiled and gestured to the Asian.

"Ra's al Ghul..."

He straightened, stared right at Bruce, and announced pridefully. Bruce interrupted instantly, cutting the attractive Irishman off. "You're not Ra's al Ghul. I watched him die."

The Irishman chuckled and smiled strangely. "Ah, yes, but is Ra's al Ghul immortal...?" he clasped his hands behind him. "Are his methods...supernatural?"

I stared between the triangle of men, Bruce dropping my hand as if it were a hot potato. I looked between them and swallowed thickly, shaking my curls and raising my hands as if to calm the rising bloodpressure of this...trio. "Whoa, what's going on here? Bruce? Immortal? Supernatural...?"

The Irishman laughed and approached me, took my hands in his and patted them gently. He smiled me and touched my curls, patting my cheek and then leaning me forward and planting a kiss on my forehead. I jerked back, squirming from his grasp, and Bruce pushed him back, stepping between us. "Nothing to worry about, dear. Bruce just...hasn't learned to respect the immortal among him yet."

"Yet?"

"Or the cheap parlor tricks able to conceal one's identity..." he glared at him and gestured for me to step back. "Ra's."

Ra's (apparently the real Ra's) chuckled and threw his head back, then shook it as if in disbelief. "Surely a man who spends his nights on the rooftops wouldn't begrudge me dual identies, now, would he, Bruce?"

"Bruce!" I exclaimed, agitation flooding through my veins. I stepped around Bruce and seperated the two of them, spinning on my heel to face Bruce. Then I whipped a look over my shoulder to Ra's, who stared hard at my best friend. I furrowed my brow and realized people had began to form around us in a circle. "Bruce, please," I rested a hand against his chest, "tell me what's going..."

He interrupted me again. "I saved you." he shot back to Ra's.

Ra's made no expression. Then suddenly he smiled and replied. "I warned you about compassion, Bruce." Without warning, he reached out and seized my arm, pulling me towards him and wrapping my arm behind my back to secure me. I grunted and tripped over my heels, my back slamming into his rock-solid chest. I blinked and before I knew it a group of men enclosed us in a circle.

Bruce stepped forward, but a man intercepted him. "You're fights with me, Ra's! Let them go."

Ra's gestured with his free hand to the crowd. "You're welcome to explain the situation to them," he sounded amused.

"Bruce!" I exclaimed hastily. Within moments Ra's whipped me around, grabbed my jaw with his strong hands and searched my eyes. His were impeccably magnificent, filled with life, fire and something foreign unto me, but was not good.

Revenge.

He then gave me a half smile and chuckled, squeezing my chin in his grasp slighty. Then he closed his eyes and planted a tender kiss on my forehead and leaned down and whispered wonderfully into my ear. "I've heard much about you, my dear Marianne. I hope you received my...gift in good time."

I swallowed thickly. "I...I don't have anything," I whispered back, a shake to my voice. I was truly afraid of this man, who claimed he was immortal and back to haunt my best friend. Fear radiated in my stomach and swarmed into my chest, and I could barely hear Bruce announce to the people to leave as Ra's breathed into my ear. "My home...it was destroyed."

He clucked his tongue sympathetically. "Pity. But," he chuckled and his lips tickled my ear again, pulling me closer to his face. Within moments my cheek touched his and he replied somewhat seductively, "it would've looked marvelous on you."

With seconds he released me, pushed me back but still grasping my wrist. "Get everyone out of here," he told his men around us. He then pointed to two others and then turned to Bruce, his grip tightening around my wrist. "hold him. He isn't going anywhere. Not without his lady here,"

I glared at this man and shifted my weight to counteract his. I dropped my shoulder nad grabbed his arm, hurling his weight above mine and over me. Instantly he counteracted my attack and whipped through the air overtop me, landing behind me and taking my arm with him. My shoulder popped in protest and I whirled around to face him again, uninjured. I gawked at this man, obviously experienced in the arts and scowled at him. I narrowed my eyes and his brows rose a few inches, as if he were amused.

"A fighter, are we? How wonderful." he chuckled and blinked, smiling in a devilishly handsome mannor. I swallowed and Bruce faught his guards, huffing and shouting insults at this man. He never took his eyes off me, and laughed again. Pulling me towards him, Ra's scanned my eyes and then cupped his palm around my jaw as if trying to send a tender, innocent message to me. I thrashed against him forcefully until he released me and I stumbled backward in my heels. I was almost ready to fall when my training caught me off guard and I tossed my weight backwards in a backflip and within moments my palms connected with the cool marble floor. I pushed up and my body suspended through the air and my feet hit the floor with a clack. I was now at least six feet from this man, crouched in an attack formation as if he'd try to touch me again. A smile spread onto his lips and he applauded me sarcastically. "You possess skill. Impressive. A true beauty," he then sauntered over to Bruce as two guards seized my arms with strong hands the size of my face. I thrashed violently just as Bruce had, unwilling to be contained. I kicked and screamed and nashed, but they held strong. Ra's watched me and stared at me possesively and then turned back to Bruce.

"She has enough passion to be a member of the League," he scratched his goatee, "though we've never had a female contender in our ranks." I stopped and looked up at him through my curls, scowling and growling at this devil of a man. He shrugged a shoulder and smirked back at me. "And my, wouldn't she be beautiful with a samurai?"

Bruce fumed at him. "Ra's! Let her go! She means nothing to the League! Nothing!" he tried to pry his arms from the men, pulling them forward to counteract their hold. Nothing. "Don't do this, Ra's! She's not League-"

"-I will do what I will with her. She belongs to the League! You know everything a man has belongs to the League once he is a member," he glared at Bruce and balled up a fist, then grabbed his jaw with strong fingers and squeezed. "And if she is yours the she is ours,"

"NO! You can't-oof!" his cry was silenced when Ra's slammed his fist into his abdomen. He doubled over and went limp, dropping to the floor and letting his knees hit the marble. I gasped as they released him and Ra's turned on his heel and rounded Bruce, knelt by his ear and whispered with a sly chuckle.

"More specifically," he patted Bruce's hair tauntingly. "...she belongs to me."