Epilouge—Ignite
Twelve Months Later
"It seems a little loose to me," the honey-colored hair girl speculated, crunching her nose up and frowning. Her olive-colored eyes sparked with confusion as she held the bow tentatively at her side. "It doesn't feel right."
I chuckled and bent to stare up at the little boy staring at me patiently. "Keep trying, Travis. You can only get better if you keep on practicing." I ruffled his mud colored hair and tossed him a wink as I stood up. I glanced over at Charlie, a twelve-year-old girl with fiery red locks of bobbing curls, who released an arrow and followed-through with her aim as it smacked into a spray-painted target tacked to a sand-bag. A smile erupted from her face as she rushed to retrieve one of three arrows she possessed for "defensive practice".
"Let's check you're pull," I declared to the honey-colored girl. Josie, a sweet and collective fourteen-year-old Trap resident blinked and pulled back, anchoring her hand along her cheek-bone correctly. I stood behind her and checked the positioning of her shoulders. "Okay, you can rest now." She obeyed and handed the bow to me.
"It seems too loose now," she pouted, taking off the finger-tab she used to protect her fingers from the fletching of the arrow. She seemed to ignore the hot-pink arm-guard wrapped around her left arm tightly. "It was too tight last week, and now it's too loose."
I nodded and began fixing the bow's string strength. "You're getting stronger," I smiled at her as I adjusted the strength a few inches. "That's a good sign. You're beginning to know the bow now." I handed it back to her. "Try this, Josie."
She nodded and took aim, then released an arrow loosely into another home-made target. It was off, but then again she wasn't really aiming. She smiled up at me and tossed aside some of her dutch-boy styled hair. "It's better now. Thanks, Marianne!"
I waved her off. "Sure thing." I folded my arms across my chest and studied my three students. A small smile parted onto my lips as the chilling dawn air played on my tied-back curls. The light in the sky had brightened since six o'clock this morning, the time the four of us met for practice. I'd started this shortly after Jonathan's "fright night," to help give protection to the young fighters of the Traps and Narrows. An overwhelming large amount of fatalities had been that of children after the episode, so I vowed to start up my little fib that I'd told to Bruce all those years ago-teaching the children archery for protective reasons.
My phone buzzed in my pants pocket. I retrieved it and flipped the phone open. Pressing it to my ear, I covered the other one and stepped away from the practicing trio. "Marianne Lancer," I glanced at my shimmering silver engagement ring and warmth spread through me.
"Where are you, Marianne?" It was Rachel, panic stinging her voice. "We have to be at the church at ten thirty!"
I glanced at the clock on my phone, holding it away from my ear. My brow wrinkled and my face became red with embarrassment. "Holy goodness," I muttered, sprinting towards my bag and purse, "I'm coming, I'm coming! Meet me at the church in ten minutes, and make sure he doesn't see the dress." I slapped the phone shut and turned to Josie. "Practice is over, guys. Pack up and head to Leslie's. She'll have your clothes prepared for you." I dodged them, wiggled my finger sin a good-bye wave, and hustled towards my black Lancer.
As promised, Rachel and Leslie helped me into my outfit an hour later. They'd seen to every detail which you could possibly imagine, from the placement of my face-framing curls to—get this—my toenails! Leslie began the painstaking promise to lacing up the back of my gown, my hands trembling as I let them smooth over the fine workings of my dress. Once Leslie tied off the bow in the back, I turned around to face the mirror. Rachel and Leslie backed away slowly. Tears brimmed my eyes, but I forced them back.
It was an Anita Graham, done in lace with a v-neckline and a sheath design. It was no waist, princess seams. With a chapel train and capped sleeves, it was picturesque to everything I'd always envisioned myself wearing at my wedding. It was eggshell white with a cream yellow bow in the back, matched with cream-colored Jimmy Chu's. Rachel had done my hair in an intricate design. It was pulled into a half-ponytail, with a bunch of my hair piled up into a bun on the crown of my head. My face-framing curls had been tamed with gel and mousse, and the cream-colored flower pins matched with pearls were placed delicately around the bun. I reached up to touch one of my curls, half afraid that they would break off they looked so unreal. I swallowed a horribly large frog in my throat and turned to them.
"Oh guys," I croaked, "you're amazing." I lunged for Leslie, roughly wrapped my arms around her and pulled her towards me possessively. I sniveled to keep myself from sobbing, staring vacantly into open space as Leslie shushed me with reassuring words. She then pushed me away graciously and I attacked Rachel next, overcome with emotion.
A soft rap on the door sounded. We scrambled and I hustled behind the changing screen, until a reassuringly panicked voice struck the air as my mother barreled through the door. I popped out from behind the screen and she seized me in a possessive, hungry hug. "Marty."
"Hi mom." I said robotically. My inner being had been seized by a monster, one which scared me beyond salvation. My stomach was a churning volcano, seemingly able to erupt with fiery passion at every surprise. My mother stepped back from me, still holding my shoulders, staring at me tears sweeping down her face.
"I knew you'd be a wreck," she chuckled. "It's okay. Everything's okay." I attacked her again, unwilling to let her go as I rested my chin on her shoulder. Her ruby-red gown graced the floor as she patted my back gently, stroking me and shushing me just as Leslie had. I closed my eyes and she whispered into my ear. "It is okay, Marianne. He loves you. So much. You wouldn't be doing this if you didn't know that."
I nodded coarsely. "I know." I whispered.
Another tap reached the door, and I perked up. My mother swirled around, protecting me from unknowing eyes, until a sharply dressed gentlemen entered into my preparation harem. We all relaxed as Alfred approached me gracefully, a long, thin black box with a small white one perched atop in his hands. My mother stepped aside and I met him, letting my dress fall around my ankles and to the ground once again. I cupped my hands in front of me and smiled at him sheepishly. "Alfred."
"Miss Lancer," he said shakily. Without warning I wrapped my arms around him, the butler outstretching his full hand from us and then wrapped his other free one around my shoulders and squeezed. He cleared his throat and stepped back a little. "Not to be rude, Miss, but the tuxedo is indeed rented."
A breathy chuckle escaped my lips. "Sorry. What are you doing back here? Aren't you supposed to be at the altar?"
He nodded. "I am," he concluded. He extended the boxes towards me. I have instructions to give these to you right away," I accepted them and he planted a grandfatherly kiss on my forehead and touched my chin as if to brighten my smile. "Fly high, little bird."
I tipped my head to the side and nodded. "I will. Thank you." I squeezed his hand and he exited as abruptly and graciously as he'd entered. I opened the long skinny box and almost dropped it as the contents blared at me.
Sparkling fresh-water pearls shimmered up at me from their peaceful resting place on expensive satin. I took a half step back, my mother and Rachel flocking to stabilize me. My breath escaped me and left my lungs burning as if drenched in sulfur. A sob escaped me and a tear trickled down my cheek as much as I hated it to. A folded note, on heavy card-paper, tied with a cream-colored bow rested gently beneath the string of necklace. I grabbed it with shaky fingers and unwrapped it.
"For the bride to be," it read, the calligraphy faded and demanding respect, "may you bless my son as much as he's blessed me." –Martha Wayne.
"Oh God," I breathed. Rachel had to take the box from me I was shaking so. She began to remove the necklace and opened the white box, finding two matching earrings. I shook my head in dismissal as she approached me carefully. "I—I can't wear these,"
Rachel nodded. "Yes, you can. She would've wanted you to."
She clasped the necklace into place and Leslie and my mother helped me fasten the earrings securely in place. I stared at the door, which had opened wide as the ushers informed me it was time to start.
Rachel handed me my bouquet of lilies and they exited the room, giving me a moment. I touched the petals with careful hands and let their coolness and fragrance pull into a place called peace. I inhaled when something sharp and cold struck my finger. I pulled it back and parted the flowers to find a small, hand-crafted, stainless batarang securely bedded inside. My heart skipped and I pulled it out, finding a small message engraved in the back in startling calligraphy.
"You have been mine, since the moment you were born; and you will always be mine." –B.
I fingered the edges of the wings and pulled it out. I set the bouquet down carefully and pulled up the hem of my dress. Carefully I slid the batarang alongside my skin, it secured by the black and yellow garter wrapped snugly around my upper thigh. A half smile pulled onto my lips as I situated my gown around my ankles again.
"He was right," the voice chuckled deeply, "you are breathtaking." the voice pierced the air.
I jerked up to attention and squealed, dropping the lilies back to the seat where I'd placed them before. My eyes widened and I hurried towards the screen when a hand seized my wrist and twisted my arm back, so I turned to face him. I blushed madly and shook my head, fighting for release. "Bruce! You're not supposed to be back here!" I hissed.
He laughed and placed a finger on my lips to silence me. "Shh. It'll be our secret." He touched his forehead with mine and played with a curl around my face with his finger. "I couldn't wait."
"You should've," I whined innocently, "You spoiled the surprise."
He rumbled a low sounding growl. "I don't need any more surprises." He was about to kiss me when yet another soft knock erupted on the door. I bounced to attention and pushed Bruce away from me. "You'd better hope that's not my father." I glared playfully at him. His laughter was evident as the door opened.
"Miss Lancer," the usher peeked his head into the room and I grabbed my bouquet. Startled, he quirked a brow, "Mr. Wayne?" Brushing aside my curls to appear flustered I stared at him in waiting. "It's time to begin. Half of Gotham is waiting for you."
A chuckle escaped me and I gathered the train up in my arm. I nodded and brushed passed Bruce, who followed suit, and hustled to the French doors which were opening. Bruce took hold of my hand and led me to the door, where he stopped and kissed my knuckles before releasing and slipping through the doors. I laughed and tossed a look over my shoulder and winked at the usher.
"We know," I tucked some hair behind my ear and straightened my train behind me.
"I know."
Darkness had swallowed the city as the stars began to pinprick the sky, the sun long-since replaced by its counterpart of night. A chilling breeze swept the skyline, the buildings slowly falling into order as lights illuminated small windows along the air. I sat on a deep-green air conditioning unit, my hair pulled back into a simple half-ponytail, my batarang stuck securely in the mess of bun gathered at the grown of my head. Pearls and gems long since removed, I'd opted for a simple hairstyle and my mask.
I smoothed my hand over the fabric of my dress. It was a lace chapel train dress with a v-neckline, colored black with a sheath/column design. Overall, I felt like something out of Alice in Wonderland than Gotham City, but I didn't mind. I rested my elbow on my knee, plopped my chin in my hand and set my single red rose on the unit beside me. I stared off into the vast array of blackness speckled with fresh light and rolled my eyes to the sky, tossing up a prayer.
"He's fifteen minutes late," the man behind me replied. He tossed his Bible on the unit behind me and straightened his suit. "I have another meeting scheduled at ten."
"He'll be here." I muttered, closing my eyes an exhaling. I pushed up the end of my glove and checked my watch. 9:35. I rose up off the unit and smoothed my dress. The man blinked and stepped away from me as if I had turned into a monster. "What? I'm not a monster," I said deeply to him.
"Not you," he said quietly, pulling at the collar of his suit. He lifted a finger and pointed behind me, then looked to heaven and lunged for his Bible. I whirled around and batted the hair away from my face and breathed a sigh of relief. There he was, perched on the ledge of the Gotham Claire, glaring at the reverend behind me. I crossed my arms and watched him as he stepped off the ledge and approached us, his cape catching the wind and snapping to attention.
"You're late." I uttered to him as I retrieved the rose from the unit. He looked me over carefully and I tossed some of my hair over my shoulder and relaxed my muscles, facing the reverend who anxiously leafed through the pages of his Bible. I exhaled and looked up at him. "What are you staring at?"
He reached up behind my head and plucked something from my hair. "Creative." He turned it over in his fingers and then handed it to me. I smiled up at him, unable to tear my gaze off his sparkling, dark eyes. The reverend cleared his throat and began. I closed my eyes, Batman squared his shoulders, and the reverend spoke:
"We are gathered here today, in the sight of God…." His words drifted as I stole at a glance at my dark groom, who stood tall and secure within his mask. He did well to hold a cold, intimidating aura around him while he stood there, behind his identity…behind Batman. There was no one around to see our ceremony, no one to judge or threaten. My only witness was God and this preacher, and the man giving me away was with me everywhere and every moment of every second of the day. His words came back into play and I snapped to attention.
"…knowing this, I ask of you this question: Do you," he stole a glance to Batman, who glared at him knowingly, "choose to marry this woman on this day; to speak the words that will join you with her as your wife, for all the days of your life? If so, please answer 'I do'."
I held the rose perfectly upright and glanced down at it slipped the batarang between the black satin tied around the stem, careful to miss the thorns. I blinked, swallowed and let my gaze follow his outstretched, gloved hand. I took my own hand and slipped it into his and turned to face him. He took his other and tipped my chin up, eyes still dark but searching my own with intense certainty and passion. His rasp was a barely audible growl:
"I do."
I forced the wetness of my salty tears back into my eyes, unwilling to let them drip behind my mask and spoil my strength. I swallowed thickly and gave one ear of attention to the minister who continued on. "Do you," he gestured towards me with his head, "choose to marry this man on this day; to speak the words that will join you with him as your husband, for all the days of your life? If so, please answer 'I do'."
Nodding, I squeezed his hand and interlaced our thickly gloved finger together. My heart thudded strongly within my chest and my stomach rolled for the second time today, and I swore I felt my legs give out underneath me. The world seemed hazy, and the preacher seemed invisible, just me, Batman, and God Almighty. I closed my eyes and inhaled. "I…do. I do."
A barely evident smile appeared on his face.
The preacher exhaled and began to speak again. "Then, if you would, please turn to face one another and join hands as you each take your marital vows…" We obeyed, and I stepped closer to him, my hands resting gently in his own. I was careful not to jostle my rose too much, but then again the trembling in my hands made it even more difficult to stay focused. The minister rambled on until it came time for the exchange. "…what tokens of love and respect do you offer each other?"
Releasing one hand, Batman reached into his every-increasing belt and flipped open a compartment. I suppressed a giggle as he fished out our tokens, and presented them to the minister. Startled, the man took them and held them quaintly in his hand, sweat beading on his brow. I bit my lower lip and smiled. "Well, then…" he mumbled, "The wedding ring is the outward sign of an inward and spiritual grace, signifying to all the union of this man and this woman in holy matrimony. It was Saint Augustine who said, 'The nature of God is like a circle whose center is everywhere and circumference is nowhere.' May the rings that you presented symbolize the nature of God in your lives, and as often as either of you see them, may you be reminded of this moment and the endless love you have promised." He gave a sharp glance to Batman and was quiet, then looked at our hands, then to me. I raised my brows and Batman asked the next question.
"What is the problem?" he asked deeply.
The minister tossed a glance up to the starry sky. The wind picked up an instant and shuffled my hair, and played at the train of my dress. I shivered slightly and the minister spoke shakily. "Well, you see, sir, there's a problem."
"And what is that?" he growled darkly.
"Ah," he cleared his throat, gesturing to our hands, "um, your hands…you need to remove your gloves to place the rings, if that's not a problem."
Batman grunted and rolled his eyes. "I suppose that's up to you if that's a problem," he removed the glove of his left hand and did mine also. "I have a feeling you're not going to ID us anytime soon, reverend."
The man puffed out a breath of nervous air and I nudged Batman with my hand and shook my head warningly. The minister continued after we'd re-joined our bare hands. "Batman, as you present this woman with her wedding ring and pledge your love and your life to her, will you please repeat after me: 'Reacher, I give you this ring as a symbol of my love. With all that I am, and all that I have, I promise to love and honor you always. With this ring, I thee wed myself unto you eternally.'"
He nodded and his cape snapped the wind again. I lifted my hand unto him and watched with blurry vision as he started the simple silver band over my first knuckle. Then, he looked down to me and spoke quietly, darkly and deeply into the night wind. "Reacher, my love, my life; I give you this ring as a symbol of my undying adoration unto you. With all that I am, and all that I have, I promise to love and honor you always. With this ring, I thee wed myself unto you eternally, in the presence of God."
The ring slipped into place on my finger, snugly holding fast unto his promise.
The minister, now flipping a page in his Bible, turned to me and began the quote again. "Reacher, as you present this man with his wedding ring and pledge your love and your life to him, will you please repeat after me…" his words ran together unpassionately and without feeling until he was quiet. I jerked to attention when he cleared his throat.
"Forgive me," I whispered and looked up into the eyes of my counterpart, "Batman, my strength and my love, I give you this ring as a never-ending symbol of my undying adoration and passion unto you. With all that I am, and with all that I have, I vow to love and honor you always in the presence of darkness or light. With this ring, I thee wed myself unto you eternally, in the presence of God our Savior." The ring slipped over the last of his knuckle and into place on his finger. A tear escaped my eye and slid down the inside of my mask.
A sniffling sounded on the wind and we both shot the minister a look. Startled, he squeaked and collected himself. Returning to his notes, he continued on, his voice shaky on the breeze. "Batman and Reacher, inasmuch as you have consented to be joined together in the holy state of matrimony, and having pledged and sealed your vows by the giving and receiving of rings in the presence of both God and whatever company this is, it is with great pleasure that I now pronounce you husband and wife. What God hath joined together, let no man put asunder." He looked between us and then slapped the Bible closed.
"Congratulations," he said nervously, pulling at his collar, "You may kiss the bride,"
We turned back to one another and Batman pulled me towards him carefully. I collided gently with his kevlared chest and the rose fell from my grasp. I was lost as he place a hand on my cheek and then let his fingers graze over my neck. I let my head fall back under his kiss as his breath penetrated my skin, sending a swirling sense of passion and desire through my veins. For a brief second his tongue traced my lower lip but then he pulled back slowly. My breath became rapid and quiet as I scanned his eyes.
"And may I present Mr….ah well, um….Batman and Reacher."
Our laughter struck the wind and our love ignited the air around Gotham City.
END OF PART I…
