I do not own nor did I create Batman/Bruce Wayne, Lucius Fox, Amanda Waller, Alfred Pennyworth, or Leslie Thompkins. I did first write of her sister and Madge Peterson.

This story is meant to make readers happy not to make money. So please read for free and enjoy and any who own anything here please (hopefully) do the same knowing I make no money from your work or property here. I just have fun and hopefully let others do the same. :)

Bruce walked out of the hanger by himself and toward Amanda Waller. At his approach, she lifted her chin and an eyebrow. "So?"

He paused some feet in front of her. Then he met her gaze with a straight face. "They're talking about it alone."

She lowered her chin but kept her eyebrow up. "How do you think 'that' will go?"

Bruce kept his face straight, but his voice became lower and gravelly as he replied. "Better than certain discussions we've had."

She scowled at him.

. . .

In the tent in Africa five years before, Bruce stared at Waller. His fists were clenched at his sides. "You can't be serious."

Waller kept her body very still as she replied. "More serious than you are being apparently."

Bruce raised his face to the tent's ceiling, though his eyes were closed. He took a few deep breaths that widened his chest. Then he spun away and strode toward the flap of the tent. Waller's voice called out from behind him. "Where are you going?"

"To talk to Alfred."

"If you value his life, you'll stop."

Bruce's foot froze in the air. Then he put it down. His head turned so he could scowl at her over his shoulder.

Waller stared back at him. Every line of her face drooped. There were no furrows in her forehead or between her eyes. The latter showed no tears nor any precursors to them. "What will you talk to Alfred about?"

Bruce turned fully back to face Waller and strode back up to her desk, fists still clenched at his sides. He loomed over her across the table as he stared down. "We'll talk over our options of getting those boys back and keeping those still here, here, and not where you sent those I left behind and awake."

"No. You won't. I hold the lives of you, your friends, and all those prisoners outside in my hands, Bruce. What happens to them depends on what I say to my men and what you do to me. I'm not a just-starting-out rebel leader. I've been doing this at least half your lifetime and training for it before then. I've also come to know a little bit about you and how you think recently. Weigh carefully what you do now."

. . .

The four boys came out of the hanger. They stared at Waller and Bruce. One wore his usual scowl, but the other three faces were relaxed as they watched them. Their eyes were wide with, "hope," perhaps?

The four young men stopped before him and Waller. The tall, thin, young man addressed them like a true spokesperson. The one who'd spoken most to Bruce before had a scowl very much like Waller's even as he aimed it at her. Apparently, he still thought she was faking her scowl and had something to gain from all this. The young man who opened his mouth, though, said "We have decided we would like to accept Bruce Wayne's offer."

Bruce turned a small smirk upon Waller. She scowled at the young men without looking at him. The only one of the young men standing before her also returning her scowl actually raised an eyebrow at this.

. . .

Madge lowered her teacup as she looked up at Evie. "So, tell me about your home, the one I'll be cleaning for you."

Evie set down her own cup in its saucer. "Well … it was my first husband's."

Madge pulled her cup away from her own mouth and stared at Evie Ainsley. "Really?"

"Yes … it's amazing I kept it or the dogs after all the debt he left me with … It did get gutted pretty good after his death, but a certain not-so-young man showed up not too many months after the murder charges against me were dropped to say he was sorry. My recently deceased husband had apparently humiliated a young lady he'd been very fond of and he had kept it quiet for her sake. That hadn't helped her much it seemed. He wished he hadn't kept it quite so quiet for my sake. He loved making money better than spending it, unlike my first husband, and bought my house to let me keep living there with its kennels and my dogs in them. He left my life pretty swiftly thereafter to go about his business, quite literally. I was curious and tracked him down at various parties and gatherings afterwards. We began 'running into each other' at those gatherings. We talked about various things, laughed about various things, sipped drinks together. He was not a mean drunk, but a jollier one until he snoozed from it. Then, after one particular night we'd filled with small talk, laughter, and sherry, I woke beside him remembering we were then 'Mr. and Mrs. Ainsley.'"

Madge's eyes flew open. They watched Evie take a break from her story to sip from her teacup before continuing. "That was an awkward, morning call to my big sister."

. . .

In the tent in Africa, five years before Madge's first talk with Evie, and his with the boys in the hanger, Bruce stared Waller down across her desk. He met her gaze with his hard, grey eyes. "What if I told you your secrets here remaining 'secret' depended on my showing up alive in America again and not sharing them with someone once I get there, which 'will' be less likely if Alfred and the others aren't where their supposed to be by then."

Amanda Waller raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Who would this 'someone' be?"

"Someone I gave permission to interfere here if it wasn't clear I'd finished my mission successfully within 84 hours or so of when I talked to him last."

"So, it's a 'him.'"

Bruce just stared at her.

She continued with a frown. "You do realize I can track anyone down?"

"I doubt he'll be first on your radar when you begin your search. Any search will take time. The 84 hours I gave him are almost up by now. He'll be pocking his nose into you here long before you've poked your nose into him there."

"I'll have him killed when he shows himself here."

A smile spread over Bruce's face. Waller froze at the sight. His teeth looked sharp as he revealed them. His eyes glinted like knives with rounded edges. "You know, Waller, I'd 'almost' like to watch you try."

. . .

Madge blinked at Evie for a few seconds before re-finding her voice. "Uhhhhhh … What happened when your family, met this new husband of yours?"

Evie sighed. "I could see it in their red-rimmed eyes when I got home. They were furious."

"Who all exactly was furious with you?"

"Leslie, Lucius, Alfred. Even little Bruce gave me a dark look. You should have seen his dark looks back then. They were so cute."

"What happened?"

"They met him, talked to him, liked him. Then they all took in a big breath to give a bigger, collective sigh of relief right in front of me. Bruce was a little bit overwhelmed by his new god-uncle's jolly personality I think, but they didn't 'dislike' each other for it. My late, second husband found his new nephew intelligent and entertaining if a little quiet and stand-offish. He mostly chuckled at Bruce's little quirks himself. 'Likes his solitude, does Bruce,' he'd say. Look out for it, he'll become a reclusive genius.'"

. . .

Waller frowned darkly at him. "You're bluffing, Bruce."

Bruce leaned forward, planting his elbows and upper arms on her desk and his nose got closer to hers in the tent. "Does that sound like me?"

"You don't like violence Bruce. That I have realized about you."

"You're right. But I'm rather partial to the truth and justice."

. . .

"So, did it work out? You're second marriage?"

"Oh yes, muuuuuch better than the last go-around. In fact, that was probably the happiest decade or so of my life. If we got tired of each other, we just went places without each other. If we weren't tired of each other, yet, one of us tagged along after the other to various events. I accompanied him on business trips. He accompanied me on vacations. We complimented each other very well. I made jokes, he laughed. He made money, I spent it. He introduced me to powerful people. I charmed them. If people came after me, who were like my first husband, he destroyed them, through yelling and giving them a bad reputation in the business world of course …"

"Of course …"

. . .

On the tarmac between his jet and his hanger, Bruce looked over the four young men before him. He stood straighter, spread out his own feet so he stood like a triangle and projected his voice sweeping his gaze over them. "My private jet is to your right. Today, a partner of mine in overseeing my interests in the land you lived in five years ago, will fly it there. There is more room, food, and other necessities aboard now than he needs enough for all of you as well. The flight if fourteen hours long. His voice and face dropped a bit. "I cannot go with you."

There was a slight stirring from the four young men, he continued. "But I will make a call after you leave, and hopefully," he nodded to the tall young man, "your brother and sister Amos," then he looked to Luke, "And your parents, Luke, should be there to meet you when your plane lands."

Amos stood straighter and Luke began to cry silently, without a sound, but the tears left his eyes and gushed through channels in his cheeks. Bruce looked to the man standing between them. "There is a soccer field beyond the school to the left of the gardens. Next to it is a shed where we keep the equipment to play the sport and restore and replace it as needed."

The young man smiled. Bruce looked to the last man who had not responded save continuing to frown and squint at him, however, Bruce noticed it had already changed from a straight scowl to a thinking expression. "Change is hard. Some time ago you had unwanted, violent change to your life thrust upon you. Now you have chosen to change it again, still near completely and suddenly. I hope …" He looked over all of them, "Five years from now you can be proud of and glad about your decision."

What do you think? :)

God Bless

ScribeofHeroes