Son
Part 4
Diana thanked the dockers and took her leave. From what he told her, the shipment carrying the Chimera was supposedly arriving from Europe this very day. In Gotham, of all places. At least, she wouldn't need to take the risk to jump through towns to get closer to her destination.
She entered a library and picked up a magazine put on display near the entrance, its cover showing off easy cooking recipes. For all her skills, putting up something to eat was not something she had developed over the years; but when Hippolyte had arrived, she had forced herself to try and perform more than the basics. She could cook a variety of simple dishes, just not that many. Her boy was growing though, and while his culinary tastes remained those of a youngster (he would eat mac and cheese or fries and nuggets everyday if he could), she wanted to be prepared and expand her field. Diana smiled slightly as she remembered how eager he was to eat at other people's places, if only to avoid another experimentation of hers. She didn't take offence, truly -she liked eating out better than taste her own food too.
Folding the magazine, she headed to the cashier to pay and returned in the street. Tracing the shipment amongst the many boats arrival would had not been an easy feat, but she had worked on harder trails with fewer details before. All she needed was her stealth, skills and hearing to figure out who was to receive the Chimera. Gotham was well-known for his corruption and crime, and should one of the underground figures put their hands on the magical artifact and awaken the beast inside...she shivered at the thought.
She walked all the way to the pier. The smell of fish and pollution made her frown and look away. A little further down the coast, a few people were loitering together. An adult and a child -most likely father and daughter, were walking side by side, watching waves crash against the pebbles of the shore. The sight brought her a couple years back, where she and Hip had done pretty much the same one sunny afternoon.
Hippolyte's eyes were wide in wonder, amazed at the gentle coming and going of the waves. Diana carefully set him down, holding his hands upward as his small feet touched the cold sea for the first time. He had begun to walk recently, still needed her hold to stand upright, and she was too glad to guide him for a while.
The toddler shrieked in surprise as another cold wave caressed his tiny legs, but soon awe and amusement replaced the shock. He began kicking the water in earnest, a huge grin on his face.
"It is fun, isn't it?" she asked as Hippolyte kept splashing, clinging onto her hands. "I remember mother used to bring me to the beach too. I would play in the waves, even growing up."
He didn't understand -nor was he paying attention, but Diana still felt the urge to remember, and the memories didn't taste as bitter.
"You would have loved playing on the shores of Themyscira, little one," she went on. Wistful thinking; her mother would have never allowed the boy access to her homeland.
Diana sobered at the thought of Hippolyta meeting her namesake. How would she react, should they meet one day? If that day ever came. She couldn't find a way back, not for lack of searching; and with Hip in her care, her attention was definitively caught for two decades –depending on how long it took him to grow.
"Ma!"
She looked down, startled at the sound. Hip had crocked his head backwards, staring up at her with a puzzled little frown. His big eyes met hers and her heart melted at the sight.
"Ma!" he repeated insistently and gave a kick in the waves. "Ma!"
Hip might have not developed language yet, but he was expressive enough to convey his meaning. Right now, he was positively shouting: kick the waves with me!
She chuckled and gave a small nudge to the upcoming water. That seemed to satisfy her son who resumed his activity with renewed energy. Diana decided to just enjoy the moment, and stored her grim thoughts for another day.
She smiled as the memory was tucked back in a corner of her mind. The cold wind on her face reminded her of her current mission. One quick glance at her watch indicated that she still had a little less than two hours before she needed to show at Mr. Barnes' office. Less than two hours to find the mystical creature. A whole pier and dozen warehouses to explore. She hoped her appointment wouldn't drag on -while she doubted there was a big risk for the beast to awaken so soon, she didn't like having to push back her tracking.
Speaking of beasts...
Diana briefly wondered how Wayne was fairing with Hip. How many stories had her boy drawn from him? No doubt he would harass the man for more material as her own sources were starting to get drained. Her chest arched as she keenly felt his absence. He would have loved hunting the Chimera -although he would try to earn its affection rather than subdue it. Perhaps when he grew older, she would consent having him follow her around…in the meantime, she had to rely on someone else to feed his thirst for adventures…
Diana brushed the last thought aside. It was Hip's naptime and she wanted to have a word with his temporary guardian for the time being. One call, then she'd pursue her investigation a little further –and hopefully in time to secure both her appointment and the chimera.
Son
Alfred eyed his employer as they walked out of the bedroom. He watched as the man carefully shut the door, an odd expression on his face. He looked...older. Tired. Puzzled. Lost. And at the same time…a great deal calmer than he had ever seen him. And the reason why was lying in his bed on the other side of the wall.
"He is a gentle child," Alfred remarked, keeping his voice down to a whisper. A wry smile grew on Bruce's face.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "A kind one. He's open, and he talks a lot."
"A trait you used to share as a child," Alfred remarked fondly. Before his parents were murdered, Bruce used to be so open and curious too. Watching the young Hippolyte had brought back fond memories.
"He doesn't know I'm his father."
The butler lost his smile. He had suspected as much, but hadn't dared ask yet.
"Does he have…a substitute?"
Bruce sighed.
"Not as far as I know. He mentioned many uncles, aunts and cousins, but no father. Miss Prince didn't mention she had someone in her life either."
"And is Miss Prince about to remedy to that lack of substitution, now that you are aware of his existence?"
The younger man ran a hand in his hair. Apparently, the subject hadn't been discussed yet.
"I'm sure she wouldn't if she had a say in this. I'm not sure I want to remedy to that either," he admitted.
Alfred immediately felt anger grow in his chest.
"You have dedicated two decades of your life to protecting this city," he toned angrily. "You deserve some good things in your life. This little boy could be one of them regardless of his mother's opinion!"
Bruce glared at him.
"If people find out one day, they will be the first targeted."
"So will be Master Dick and everyone in the know," he pointed out.
"Dick is a grown man and chose to enter and exit this life. Diana and Hippolyte never asked for any of this –and he's not even five."
"So you will end up ignoring him 'for his own good'?" Alfred snapped.
"I don't know. And that's if she does grant me visitation rights," he snapped back. "She is protective of him for good reason –Bruce Wayne is an irresponsible man, no sensible woman would brag having my child…not unless there was another reason, or interest. Diana isn't that kind of woman, she wants his happiness before all -and don't tell me she raised him ill -he's a good kid." Alfred was cut short in his reply when Bruce pulled his phone out of his pocket. The corner of his mouth lifted imperceptivity, but enough to catch his attention. "It's her."
He picked up, brought it to his ear and exchanged the customary pleasantries. A woman's voice, smooth and clear, replied politely. The phone wasn't on speaker, but if Alfred strained his ear, he could hear the words decently.
"How is Hip?"
The boy had been in their care for a whole morning, and now napping is when she calls? Alfred thought uncharitably.
"He just went to sleep. He wanted a story but ended up telling one."
A soft chuckle echoed on the other side.
"That is my boy. Did he cause you any trouble?"
Bruce's expression softened.
"None whatsoever. He's very well-behaved."
"Good. I will have a stop to make after my last meeting, but I should be at your house around six pm."
"Alright." Bruce hesitated before asking: "Will you be staying for diner?"
Silence. For a moment, Alfred thought she would hang up without giving a reply, until she said very slowly:
"We shall see when the time comes. Goodbye Mr. Wayne."
Then she hung up. Bruce stared at his phone with an odd expression on his face. Alfred knew exactly what it meant. He was annoyed but intrigued. The man's micro-expressions told him his charge was not quite indifferent to the lady.
"What are you going to do with Master Hippolyte?" he asked eventually. Bruce pocketed the phone, looking grave.
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I will have to think about it."
"Think fast then, Master Wayne," the butler said. "I believe Miss Prince will not wait for your final decision to make one of her own."
Son
With Alfred back to his cottage, Bruce tried to catch an hour of sleep on the couch –as his bed was currently occupied. He somewhat managed to doze off and was roused by the little boy at three thirty sharp. Roused wasn't the appropriate term though. Being jumped on by a giggling toddler who seemed to have lost his reserve around him, and narrowly avoiding a catastrophe by not sending him into a wall like his reflexes would demand, seemed more like it. Because yes, Hippolyte did jump on his stomach, and seemed to find his wake-up-with-a-start-in-near-panic reaction hilarious.
"Never do that again," was Bruce's angry warning once the child was done laughing. If he had hurt his son upon a knee-jerk reflex, he would have never forgiven himself.
Unfortunately, Hippolyte merely brushed his warning off and demanded to go to the lake now. Bruce had half a mind not to out of spite. But then, those excited blue eyes and adorable smile –did anyone resist his cuteness at all?- silently urged him to put on his shoes. His anger completely melted at the sight of Hippolyte running down the edge of the lake, laughing like the energized battery he seemed to be.
They walked along the shore –Bruce categorically refused that he'd kick at the waves like he seemed to crave, and both eventually reached a bench, on which Hippolyte promptly sat to gaze at the water. When Bruce joined him, he immediately demanded:
"Tell me a story."
Once again, Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"You really do love stories, don't you?"
The little boy grinned.
"Mother says you can tell a lot about a person when they say a story. So tell me one. Please? It can be a story no-one knows. I like them better."
"A story no-one knows, eh?" Bruce repeated, feeling the boy's expectant gaze on him. He nodded firmly in return. Well, Hip hadn't ceased to request a story from him. He briefly wondered if these stories 'no-one-knew' were just narrated passages of lived lives. It would make sense…then was the man with no home someone Diana and the boy had met before? He thought about it, made up his mind and decided he was looking too hard into this.
"There is a story about a dark knight, but it's not a very happy one."
He could always deny he was the main character later. After all, it was just a story, a famous urban legend from Gotham…and maybe a hint to Diana of whom he really was. Somehow, he had this feeling she would figure it out sooner or later. She seemed smart like that. And if Hip was to stay in his life (and to be honest, he was considering it more and more) Diana needed to know.
Hippolyte shrugged indifferently to his warning and opened his eyes wide in anticipation.
"Alright." Bruce cleared his throat. "So, once upon a time, there was a little boy. He lived with his parents in a big city. His parents loved him and he was very, very happy. But he didn't know there was a monster living in his city, lurking in the shadows." Hippolyte nodded understandingly. He went on: "One day, the monster took away his parents, and the little boy was left alone." He paused. "He was angry. So very angry. He became hurtful to the people around him, he pushed the ones trying to help away. In the end, he grew up and decided to tour around the world. He met a lot of people too, bad and good, he learned a lot of things…and then he decided to return home. This time though, he had a mission."
"Kill the monster?" Hippolyte assumed.
"At first, yes. But then, he realized there was not just one monster, but so many more and his city was full of them. So he turned into the Dark Knight to fight them all."
Hippolyte nodded solemnly.
"Did he kill all the monsters?"
"The Dark Knight never kills," Bruce continued gently. "Else he will become a monster himself." The boy nodded again, contemplative. It stunned him that even at such young age, Hip seemed to understand grave situations, and it put him ill-at-ease. Bruce suddenly wanted to rewind time and take back the past two minutes. This was a big mistake. "Listen, Hip, this story…can we keep it between us?"
The boy frowned.
"It's a secret story?"
Bruce stared down at him in surprise.
"What?"
"Mother says some stories are secrets. Is the Dark Knight a secret story?"
Whatever worked. Bruce nodded slowly. The little boy scooted closer and leaned his small head against him, his tiny arm tried to wrap around his waist in an attempt of a comforting half-hug. Bruce tensed, startled. In spite of the thick jacket, he felt the warmth of the small body cuddling against him.
"Mother tells me that secrets stories, sometimes they stay here," Hip moved a hand to pock at his head. "And then here," he pocked at his chest, over his heart. "And they can make people sad."
He released him –taking the warmth away –and lifted his head to meet Bruce's gaze. His cerulean eyes, wide and innocent and inquiring seemed to read through him.
"Mother was sad too, but when I arrived, she says she is happy because she is not alone. Are you sad, Mister Bruce?"
He felt his heart sink a notch further in his chest. He wanted to despise Diana so much for not telling him about his son, he wanted to be angry. But how could he, when that sweet, intelligent child showed him kindness and compassion even though he didn't know him? He was polite and well-raised, but so very warm and open and lively, and too young for the horrors of this world. Were those stories a way for Diana to prepare him to the real world? Bruce had no idea. He only knew she had raised him well.
"Not anymore Hip." Not when you are around, he thought. Alfred was right. Perhaps he did want that little boy around a bit longer.
A split second later, Hip was rising to his feet and tugging at his sleeve with a wide grin.
"Come on Mister Bruce. Come play with me!"
Bruce could only smile back and comply.
Son
The night was growing on Gotham. Hip fell asleep on Bruce's table, his small fingers clenched around a pencil, paused in mid-drift on a piece of paper. After a lengthy playtime by the lake, the boy had happily accepted his and Alfred's help to assemble a formation of lego that vaguely looked like a turtle. Then, he had required the necessary stuff for drawing, where his fight against exhaustion had given in. Bruce carefully picked the boy up –he didn't even stir –and carried him to the couch. Hip's dirty socks would spoil the pristine white couch, but he didn't care. For now, he was content watching the boy catch a restful sleep.
Then, his mood turned a little soberer. For the third time within two hours, Bruce pulled out his phone and dialed Diana's number. For the third time in two hours, he ended on the voicemail.
'I am unavailable for the moment. Please leave your name and number, I will return your call as soon as I can.'
"Hey it's Bruce Wayne again. Just tell me if you're okay. Hip is sleeping now, but I'd like to tell him his mom is on her way when he wakes up. Bye."
He hung up and eyed his phone nervously. Diana should have arrived hours ago. Her meeting with Barnes shouldn't have lasted so late in the afternoon. It was close to eight pm now, yet he still had no news. He had contacted Barnes' secretary, who had confirmed his meeting with Miss Prince had ended a little before four o'clock. When he tried his luck with the hotel she was staying at, they had informed him that Miss Prince had briefly stopped at her room to pick up a large bag –one of the staff had offered to help her carry it, and she had declined with her usual smile. And then, she had taken off god-knew-where. Even Ethan Denver –a very last resort- had no idea where she had gone, having been stuck in the hospital all day.
So far, Hippolyte hadn't asked after his mother and Bruce hoped he wouldn't for a while. Alfred had taken upon himself to prepare diner –planning a little extra in case Diana decided to show up –and Bruce was halfway debating if he should leave the cowl behind for the night in case she didn't. Something must have happened. Diana wasn't the kind of woman who would abandon her child. He had seen her protectiveness, he knew of her situation –comfortable and stable, and had no doubt only something terrible would keep her away. Metropolis was not Gotham, but anything was possible.
Where are you Diana?
He was growing worried too.
"Master Wayne." Alfred approached him, still wearing his apron and his hands covered with some kind of sauce. If Bruce was a betting man, he'd say his butler was relearning bolognaise. "You should see this."
He followed the older man to the kitchen and saw the breaking news. Earlier in the day, in the outskirts of Gotham, a warehouse had burned down after a rather impressive explosion. It had been a storage place, regrouping objects supposed to be shipped all over the world. The footage pre-explosion showed people walking around the building. Amongst them, dressed in a stylish long dark coat, Diana Prince was speaking to one of the employees. He showed her something in the direction of the warehouse. Bruce watched with a sense of horror as she disappeared inside the building, seconds before it busted into flames.