Son
9
A few months later…
Diana closed her eyes, leaned her head back against the headboard of her chair, and sighed heavily. The past few days had been heretic. The Louvre had hosted a new exhibition on Leonard de Vinci for the past three months, and the show was slowly drawing to an end. Taking down the artwork and sending it back where it belonged was taking its tool. She was the curator for the Greco-Roman area of the Louvre and technically wasn't concerned by the exhibition, but Mr. Berne, her supervisor, had been dragged into other technicalities and had requested she take over some of his paperwork.
The older man was very understanding of her situation –single mother of a young child, heavy responsibilities at the Louvre –and turned a blind eye the few times she had to leave for a 'family emergency'. So when he had come, looking contrite and almost begging for a few extra hours of her time, she had caved good-naturally. He had been her head of department ever since she had joined his team and exceedingly welcoming in a grandfatherly kind. Hence, there she was, wrapping up a last-minute report on some potential artifact that may or may not join the Louvre collection soon.
An overpriced meaningless artifact, might she add. While the vase was ancient, it was not antiquity. Her trained eye recognized the modern touches through the pictures, and even Mr. Berne wouldn't be hard to persuade about its lack of worth. Unfortunately, the article had been brought up by Mr. Gauthier, one of the few colleagues she did not get along with. The man could be a pompous ass on a good day but had managed to secure rare artifacts before. She would have to present a solid case to discourage any follow-up.
The old grandfather clock chimed at six on the dot. Diana's attention was immediately caught by the ring of her phone. Bruce's name flashing on the screen, so she picked up.
"You are right on time," she said as a manner of greeting.
"I must be punctual, if I want to set a good example," he replied.
"Of course you must," she repeated in a mock-serious tone. "I am certain your board of directors wished you set the right example for them too, although quite a few thugs wouldn't mind if you didn't."
Bruce chuckled a little. No doubt alerted by the clock, Hippolyte barged in her office, fidgeting like the child he was, eyes pleading to have his turn on the phone. Diana bit back a laugh when she gave the device to her son. She watched with amusement as the little boy ran out of the room and shut the door behind, a firm request for privacy. Knowing he would spill everything by dinner, Diana returned to her report.
The first exchanges she and Bruce had were uneasy and hesitant, as neither quite knew what to say. The building conversation was usually interrupted by Hippolyte bolting into the room within seconds. The little boy would then chatter Bruce's ears off for a while before returning the device to Diana. It took them a little effort to be comfortable on the line and quit having their son at the center of their talks. Their respective activities, on and off record, would be mentioned. Then, debates and real conversations, advices and suggestions, would emerge from time to time. It did help that Bruce sounded genuinely interested in her work, and Diana tried to get to know the Bat of Gotham better.
Upon returning to Paris, she had launched a full research on anything that could be related to him. She had read many articles on the ongoing criminal activity, the infamous villains locked down in Arkham, and came to the conclusion that Bruce led a far more dangerous life than she suspected. She ought not to judge him, given that before Hippolyte was born, she occasionally had to face serious criminal matters –although mostly metahuman. It hit her hard to realize that unlike her, he had no outsider to confide to. Alfred was his family, true, and perhaps he had a few people in the know. But none would look up at him with adoring eyes or babble about everyday life matters innocently.
During the one talk she had with Alfred, the butler had thanked her for allowing Bruce and Hippolyte's biweekly conversations. He had even gone as far as to hint that those talks kept the man sane and forced him to consider the future. Before meeting Hip, Bruce hadn't seen past the cape and cowl. After discovering his son, the Bat would not take insane risks –or at least, less insane risks –when hunting criminals at night.
It sadden her a bit to think Hippolyte was not only hers anymore. She did not doubt that one day, Bruce might want more. Diana did not know how she would handle the situation, if it came to be. She only knew that she could no longer separate father and son –Hippolyte had grown very attached to speaking his mind with another adult. His heart would very likely break if he was denied his "Mister Bruce" time. And to be honest, she did not want to separate them. Her son was not the only one growing fond of the man.
Son
"…and then the cat –Moustache –ran after the mice and didn't see the crow, but the crow kinda 'caw caw' loudly, and the mice ran down the gutter. It was like a –like a chase on TV, with cars and booms. But it was just a cat and mice and a crow." Giggling. "It was really funny."
"I have no doubt it was, Hip," Bruce replied with a smile. "And what happened to the crow?"
"The crow flew away and then Moustache ate the treat I gave him. He was purring all the time too!"
"He must have been very happy."
"It was Madame Gisbon's apple pie! Of course he was happy!"
Madame Gisbon's pies were, according to the little boy, to die for.
"Did you tell Madame Gisbon you are feeding the cat with her pie?"
"No, I'm not supposed to…you won't tell, right Mister Bruce?"
"Of course not." He glanced at the clock. Twelve thirty. He had just spent half an hour with Hippolyte on the phone. Soon it would be dinner time for the little boy, then bath time and sleep. Bruce still needed to eat a quick lunch before heading to his meeting at one. Not to mention, he needed a word with Diana. He wished they were in the same time zone. Or in the same country. "Say, Hip, can you give me back your mom?"
He heard the little boy get up and hurry out of whatever room he was locked in. Soon, Bruce thought, soon he would fly to Paris and see his little boy again. Having Hippolyte had changed his life. While he and Diana had agreed to keep it to phone calls for the time being as to not draw too much attention, he never thought he would grow so dependent on them. Hearing the little voice greeting him cheerfully soothed his mind. He had started taking less medicine against pain. Even Alfred had remarked that he seemed happier.
"Hello again, Bruce."
Another reason why he anticipated those calls was Diana herself. The truce they had formed upon their departure had slowly shifted. Perhaps the distance helped, perhaps knowing Hippolyte was their common ground, that he was seriously taking his role, encouraged her to trust him more. Bruce knew she was making efforts to accept him in her life, so he did his best not to overstep bounds with her. He, in turn, genuinely wanted to know more about her.
"Hey," he said. "I wanted to ask, are you planning something for Hippolyte's birthday?"
March would soon be there. If he could not bring Hip over –for obvious reasons, then he would fly to him.
"Family is coming over on Saturday for the afternoon; they will likely stay for diner." Pause. "You are welcomed to join us; we have a guest room."
"I will take you on the offer." They both knew he could book a hotel room anytime, but Bruce also knew his window would be short and didn't want to spend more time apart from Hip than necessary. He hesitated and added: "Alfred might come along."
"If you don't mind sharing a room, I have no issues with his presence," was her immediate reply. "Hippolyte has been asking after his cookies."
"Good." He paused, racking his brain for something to say. "I…uh…did Hip show any hint of…extraordinary display lately?"
"That is the most diplomatic way of asking if he demonstrated any kind of power I have ever heard." He heard the smile in her voice and smiled back. "As far as I can say, he didn't. I asked his usual babysitters if they had noticed anything different. Aside from his emotional awareness of others, no other unexplained urge to sleep or interruption of a fight whatsoever. I told you last time, Hip claimed he only knew it was wrong for us to fight, nothing more."
And Hip had been right, Bruce thought back guiltily. The vigilante had only wanted to find a way to take down the unknown entity before him. He hadn't thought of how his mind would react, should Diana be invulnerable to his attacks.
"I suppose so." It pained him to ask, but he asked anyway: "Do you have any ideas for his birthday present? Does he have any need of Legos or anything else? Story books seem redundant, you told him far too many."
She chuckled again.
"I would say your presence alone will do, but an extra box of Legos and Alfred's cookies will be welcomed. He is very easy to please."
Bruce was about to ask if she wanted anything along the way, when the door of his office opened and his secretary came in. Feeling a little irritated, he glared at the woman. He had demanded not to be bothered during his lunch break.
"I'm sorry M. Wayne, but Dr. Donovan wanted to see you before your interview."
Dr. Donovan was a researcher, specialized in genetics and the latest acquisition of Wayne Enterprises in the medical field. A choice made by a usually talented headhunter. Well, he supposed even headhunters had their bad days. Integrating Wayne Enterprises must have gotten to his head, as the man did not stop attempting to contact him directly to inform him of his every woe, threatening to leave if his demands were not met.
"You can tell Dr. Donovan I have others things to do. If he is so unhappy here, the door is wide open. I will say it only once again, I am unavailable until my next meeting in -" he checked his watch. "Twenty minutes."
The secretary nodded and left his office somewhat walking stiffly. Bruce thought he ought to feel guilty for snapping at the poor woman, but could not find the will to care right now.
"The pain of being a CEO," Diana said, reminding him she was still online. "I will leave you to your work. Do you have any idea when we should expect you?"
"Most likely the day before his birthday. I won't stay over a week though; I don't feel comfortable leaving Gotham too long."
If only he and Dick were still on speaking terms, he would have asked his former protégé to take over in his absence…
…speaking of which, it might be a good idea to contact Dick sooner than later. They had not spoken since Jason's death, not even seen each other. While Bruce was perhaps too stubborn to offer an apology first –because both had said untoward things in the heat of anger and grief –he did not need to deteriorate their damaged relationship further. Better announce in person that he had a little brother rather than have him learn the news through scandal sheets. He owed Dick as much. He added that on his growing 'to do' list and focused back on the conversation.
"You will have to fly back someday. I have a private jet. Just name the day and I'll arrange it."
Diana chuckled again.
"I will take you on the offer," she echoed his earlier words. "How is that extra room you wanted to add to the lake house?"
"It's ready. It's just waiting for Hip's touch."
"I will pass along the message. Expect Hip bringing a huge suitcase to drop half of his stuff."
"The room is big, it will be fine."
They exchanged a few pleasantries before hanging up. Bruce stared at the neutral screen of his phone, already missing Diana and Hip's virtual presence. The next call would be in two days, he thought grimly. Sometimes, he wished he did not love his city. Sometimes, he wished he could just jump in a plane and actually act like a goddamn irresponsible playboy. Without the Bat-
He paused. The words slowly crept back into his mind. Without the Bat. It wasn't the first time he had considered putting down the cowl. He even had good reasons to. Jason's death, his body taking the hits harder, the lack of excessive supervillain sprouting out of nowhere…the new generation slowly rising in his stead. Gotham PD was growing more reliable. Gordon did not have the Batman's resources for sure, but he handpicked the good men, right men for the job. Gotham was the same city, and he had given it twenty full years of his life to ensure it would not sink into insanity.
Perhaps he should start considering retirement…
Or maybe not. It was too early yet, he did not feel he could leave all these people down. Not as long as Gordon kept lighting up his sign in the sky.
A new knock on his door announced his secretary. The clock showed it was time to head for his meeting. Bruce grumbled and stood from his seat. He'd have to skip lunch this time.
Son
Diana checked her watch. It had just turned nine. According to Bruce, his plane must have just landed. At first, she had contemplated letting him arrive to her place on his own. Afterthought, it had seemed politer to pick him up directly at the airport. Alfred would not be part of the flight, something about being down with the flu and not wanting to contaminate Hip. The little boy was currently fidgeting, sitting on a random bench, waving his legs in the air as his feet didn't touch the ground.
"Do you see Mister Bruce?" Hippolyte asked for the fifth time.
"Not yet Hip," she replied patiently. He was a tall man, he would be easily found; he just needed to show up.
The little boy sighed very deeply, conveying the depth of his disappointment. Diana felt amused, watching him so eager to meet again with a man he barely knew. Then again, that very thought was sobering. Bruce was at least someone she could respect. She did not think her boy would not pay too much attention to a stranger with ill intentions, but he was still young and could easily be misled. Perhaps having Bruce stepping in would help…
"Mother he's here!"
Diana was promptly brought back to the present when Hippolyte jumped off his seat and dashed into the crowd before she could stop him. A bunch of people, most likely arriving from one big plane, had the good idea of crossing her path at the same moment. She curtly apologized as she cut her way through, stumbling once, and looked for him.
"Hip!" she called. "Hippolyte!"
When he did not answer and she could not see him, Diana panicked a little. People were hurriedly pressing around her, and Hippolyte was so small, so easily lost in the mass. She kept looking around, scanning every part of the airport she could see, and yet come up empty. Where had that silly son of hers gone?
"Diana?"
She turned around fast. Bruce was standing there, his traveling suitcase in one hand, looking a little tired and at the same time, smiling. For a brief moment, she wanted to be angry at him, because he was the reason why Hip took off. But then, worry for her son took over and Bruce lost his smile very fast.
"Diana," he repeated, clearly concerned now. "What is-"
"I can't find him," she blurted. She didn't need to name her boy, he understood at once. "He was there and then he went looking for you left and now I can't-"
He caught her arm, gave her a firm shake, nothing strong enough to move her, but firm enough so she would focus on her.
"Breathe Diana. Where did you last see him?" She waved in a general direction. "Keep looking, I'll call for security. I know you want to keep a low profile, but if Hip-"
She interrupted him with a glare. How dare he suggest…Hippolyte was her life now, she would throw a lifetime of anonymity if it brought him back safe.
"Hip is my priority," she said icily. "Go to security and call me if you find him first."
So much for a peaceful reunion, Diana thought bitterly. She walked away without sparing him a second glance and prayed he had not gone to far away.
Son
Lois' job as a reporter forced her to travel often. Her status as a star reporter for the Daily Planet meant traveling all across the world. Heck, her current journey was leading her to the Arctic to follow a scientific expedition. The quest for truth, the endgame, was what made her blood pump and body pulse. Jumping from exotic place to exotic place was just perfect bonus. Technically, she was not adverse to planes or trains or whatever means of transport. She had learned to get over every kind of sickness when the road was concerned.
What she did seriously dislike though, was one single word that might pop up any time when switching planes. One word that had thirty percent chances to pop up in France in particular. Strike. The effing crew of the company she was using to travel was on strike. Again. And she was battling with the employees to catch another plane real, real quick before she lost the connection in England.
"There should be some seats left on the Eurostar for alternative," one employee suggested. "The next one is in an hour and a half."
A last minute ticket for Eurostar would cost her, unless she negotiated a switch with the plane ticket. Perry might agree for a last minute expensive purchase so she wouldn't miss her transport, but given that airplane company refunds took an eternity to come through, she might never hear the end of it. In the end, she did not have much of a choice.
"There better be one free seat," she growled, sending the employee her best make-it-up-or-I-will-kill-you glare.
She found satisfaction when he audibly gulped and turned toward his colleague.
"We'll check the seating, it will only take a moment."
Lois tapped her foot impatiently.
In the background, she spotted a man carrying a boy. The boy was grimacing and struggling, but his moves were uncoordinated, as if he had just woken up from a nap. His eyes met hers briefly, and the panicked expression on his face hit her guts: something wasn't right.
"Keep an eye on my suitcase," she warned the employee. "I'm coming back."
Said employee didn't have the time to answer before she departed and headed towards the man and the child. A lifetime of walking –and occasionally running –in heels, helped her close the distance between them. The closer she came, the more obvious it showed that the child was not cooperative, even though he was not saying a word. The man was headed towards a large exit, most likely leading to the underground parking. And he was moving suspiciously fast.
Oh no you don't, Lois thought angrily.
Perhaps she was wrong; perhaps the situation was a whole new level of misunderstanding. But her guts urged her forward and she trusted her guts. True, she had never been a witness to a potential child kidnapping, but hell would freeze twice before she stood on the side and do nothing about it. She hurried her steps, this close to shout after the man but not wanting to cause havoc either –who knew what that man could do to the child if he felt endangered?
The silent chase continued through the airport. As the duo was closing on the door, she saw a group of security service watching the man with narrowed eyes. Words were spoken in a walkie-talkie. The man ignored them and went on unbothered.
At this moment, a woman shouted loud enough to be heard through the entire hall:
"Hippolyte!"
The child immediately reacted and screamed in return:
"Mother!"
And the man started running.