Twenty minutes and a drive through Gotham later, and I'm standing at the front door of Bruce Wayne's home. The nerd part of my brain is screaming in excitement, but the rest of me is nervous as hell. Before I've had time to compose myself, Fox has knocked on the door and there's an older man in a suit standing there.
"Alfred."
"Lucius." The two men nodded in greeting.
"Is he in?" Fox asks. "There's someone he should speak to." He gestures to me. "Belle Mitchell, I'm sure you recognise Alfred. Alfred, this is Miss Mitchell."
The way his eyes widen a fraction tells me he is also familiar with my story. I raise my hand in greeting.
"If you'd both follow me." Alfred leads us inside, up the stairs to a room at the end of a hall. He knocks twice before entering.
"Master Wayne-"
"Is it Lucius? Send him in." Bruce interrupts, not looking up from the desk he's sitting behind. He's focused intently on the tablet in his hand, brow furrowed.
"Not just me, Mr Wayne." Fox says, a ghost of a smile in his voice. Bruce looks up and I step forward, grinning sheepishly.
"Remember me?"
The look he gives me says he remembers, and wishes he didn't. "Long time no see."
"Not long enough." He replies. Yep. Definitely not pleased to see me. "What are you doing here?"
"Here in Gotham, here in your house, or here in the cosmic sense?" I quip, hoping to lighten the mood. Bruce glares at me. "Harley Quinn was still in my world, and threatening my family. I took care of here, and coming here was kind of a snap decision. I didn't really have time to think."
Bruce sighs and massages his temples. "And you need help?"
"Well, yes. I got myself kicked out of Ed- of the place I was staying." I correct myself, but it's obvious everyone in the room knew what I was going to say. "I just need help until I find my feet. I'll get a job, and find a place, and I'll be out of your hair. Promise." I held my hand up in a scout's honour gesture.
Alfred and Fox stayed silent, standing slightly behind me. The silence is tense, waiting for Bruce to answer.
"You can stay with me, until we can organise a more permanent situation." He finally says.
"Oh man, th-"
"I have a few conditions." He interrupts me. Wonderful. I didn't even finish thanking him and he's setting rules. I take a deep breath.
"Sure. That's fair. And I'm pretty sure we can all guess rule one." I raise one eyebrow, challenging him to prove me wrong. He doesn't.
"I'm sure we can, but I'll say it anyway. No contact with Nygma." He says sternly. Damn, there goes my plea of ignorance.
"What are these other conditions?" I ask.
"We can discuss them in the morning. Alfred, if you'd show Belle to a room in the East Wing?" He says, turning from me.
"Certainly. Miss Mitchell, if you'll come with me."
"Uh, sure. Goodnight, I guess. And thank you so much Mr Fox." I say sincerely.
"My pleasure. I was driving this way, giving you a lift was no trouble."
"I was thinking more of how you didn't feed me to that overly muscled security guard, but thanks for the lift too." I smile at him, and he returns it.
I trail after Alfred down the long hallway to the other side of the house. He opens a door, showing a tastefully decorated bedroom.
"Here you are. Don't hesitate to ask for anything." He says politely.
"Sure. Thanks, Mr Pennyworth." He nods and leaves me alone. I quickly find the attached bathroom and take a shower. My exhaustion finally hits me, and I can barely stand. I towel off, throw the shirt I took from Riddler back on and sink into the soft bed. Thankfully, I fall into a dreamless sleep.
?
I'm leaning against the counter in the enormous kitchen, drinking coffee from the pot I found already brewed, when Bruce walks in. For a moment I'm struck by how handsome he really is. Where Riddler is sharp angles and piercing looks, Bruce is all chiselled jaw and steady gaze. They really are polar opposites.
"Morning." He greets me, breaking my train of thought.
"Hey. Thanks again, Bruce. I know I'm a royal pain in your bat-butt, but it's great what you're doing for me." He looks like he might crack a smile, but he doesn't. "So, should we talk about the rest of the conditions of my stay at Chalet Wayne?"
"We should. Soon." He clears his throat. "Alfred should have left some clothes in your room. Get changed and he'll show you where I am." With that, he leaves again. I drain my coffee cup and go back upstairs to my room. Sure enough, there's a pile of clothes on the bed. I get changed into the black leggings and loose tee shirt, wondering about Alfred's taste in clothing. When I open my door he's standing there waiting. Before I can ask about the outfit, he speaks.
"I'll show you to Mr Wayne." He says, and something about his tone discourages questions. Maybe he doesn't like me very much.
The room he leads me to answers some questions.
Bruce is standing in the centre of the room, in loose fitting black pants and a fitted tee shirt. Exercise equipment lines the walls, and a large rubber mat takes up most of the space in the middle. The walls hold displays of swords, throwing stars and fighting sticks, and judging by the notches in them, they are well used.
"Are we about to have a Karate Kid style moment where you turn me into a ninja?" I ask by way of greeting.
He actually does crack a smile at that. "Kind of." He nods. "Staying away from Nygma is one of the conditions of your stay here." He pauses, and I nod my acknowledgement. "And you tend to attract trouble." I nod again. "So without his protection, I thought I would teach you how to defend yourself."
"I know the basics." I tell him. "I can take care of myself."
"So you would say Gotham is basic?" He asked, one eyebrow cocked.
"Okay, you have a point. But I still think I'm pretty safe."
As soon as the words leave my mouth Bruce is in front of me, hooking my legs out and I'm lying flat on my back, the wind knocked out of my lungs.
"Alright." I wheeze, "You may actually be on to something."
He grins down at me before offering a hand to help me up. I jump a little, loosening up, ready for the next round.
"Bring it." I say, and this time I'm at least sort of ready. Bruce comes at me, one punch to the shoulder, designed to knock me off balance. I lean quickly, so the blow mostly glances off. He's already spun around and made a grab for my arm, so I leap to the left into a roll.
I try for an offensive, feinting right and sending a punch into his left side. It hits pretty solidly, but he doesn't even flinch. So I jump, spinning a kick towards his head with a loud cry. He catches my foot in midair, and I'm knocked on my ass again, Bruce straddling my midsection, barely even sweating.
"You win, send me to Arkham." I surrender, trying to squirm out from under 200 pounds of Bruce.
"Not bad." He says, not budging. "The kick was good, but showy. Your moves will be harder to block if you don't make a big deal out of them before you attack."
"If you don't get off me I won't be able to move ever again!" I yelp, trying to squirm again. He stands up, giving me a hand again. "Well I guess you have a point. I could use a bit more training." I admit, pushing the loose strands of my hair out of my face. "So. Be my Mr Miyagi?"
"My pleasure." Bruce says, smiling a little.
"Is that because you're actually happy to teach me, or because it makes you feel better to kick my annoying butt to the floor over and over?" He smiles a little wider and turns to walk out. "Bruce? Which one?" I shout, but he just keeps walking.
?
And for the next two weeks, we fall into routine. I wake up, make coffee for Bruce and I, we work out, and then he goes to work or do whatever Bruce Wayne does in his downtime, and I chill with Alfred.
He brings me up to date with day to day life in Gotham, and I help him make dinner and wash dishes.
So one night, Alfred and I are sitting in the huge kitchen, with a cup of tea. I'm sitting on the counter which Alfred doesn't approve of, and Alfred is sitting at the breakfast bar. We're talking about winters in Gotham when Bruce appears, slightly breathless. Alfred and I stop mid-sentence, looking up.
"Are you busy?" Bruce asks, looking to me.
"Not particularly. What's up buttercup?" I reply, before bursting into laughter at the expressions on the men's faces. Maybe not many people call Batman buttercup.
"There's some activity happening out at the Bowery." He raises one eyebrow, and pauses a beat.
"Want to come?"