I thank "The Dark Knight Rises" for this section of the story. :)

Chapter Five

She was overwhelmed by the luxury of Wayne Manor; this was more than Sinéad ever wanted in her life. To think that Bruce Wayne of all people would be interested brought up the question: why was a man whom people had not seen in years fascinated with her, a new face to the world of creativity? And why was Evelyn so willing to see him?

She'd been rather stiff and distracted the whole time they rode the cab to the party that Sinéad had to repeatedly ask what was wrong, and she would always answer nothing, but she was lying. After no attempts, she just stopped and settled on them getting to Wayne Manor and being greeted with paparazzi, something Sinéad wasn't used to. She preferred privacy and being out of the radar, yet at the same time, it amazed her that Wayne would go as far as to treat her like royalty. Evelyn flashed the press a small, nervous smile as she joined the younger girl through the entrance, where they were greeted by a kind-looking, white-haired old man in a butler's attire.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor, ladies. You must be Miss Ryan," he said to her. His accent...he must be English, Sinéad thought as she answered him.

"Yes, sir, I am. And this is my friend, Evelyn."

She didn't miss his switch of emotions on his wizened face; first there was the same smile that he'd given her, before it briefly changed to one of self-controlled shock as though he'd seen her friend before - now Sinéad knew she was getting somewhere - before returning to that smile again. "Oh, well, come on inside and enjoy the party. And would you both care for some champagne?"

Evelyn thanked him and took hers, while Sinéad nervously got her own. The butler looked her on. "You're not used to these things, I gather."

"Yes, sir. I'm not used to big formal affairs," she answered politely.

He chuckled. "The name's Alfred, Miss Ryan, if you ever need me again tonight. And nice to...meet you too, Evelyn." Sinéad frowned to herself; it seemed like he meant to say "see" instead of "meet". She turned to her friend and saw her take a long swig of the liquor and finished it off right away.

"Would you care telling me what is going on now?" she asked.

Evelyn took her by the arm and led her into the crowd. "It's a long story, Sinéad," she said in a hushed voice. "I came here tonight because I know Bruce Wayne."

"Obviously," she stated flatly. "But how?"

"Oh, pardon me, Miss Ryan." Alfred the butler was back, this time without the champagne. "But Mr. Wayne has asked to see you himself, and I have to bring you to him." Alright, now she was getting hotter. The man himself asking to see her himself instead of coming to the party in person where all his guests, these people in exquisite formal finery that she felt so small and out of place amongst, were enjoying themselves and checking out her painting - her breath caught in her throat when she saw her portrait in a large frame of antique gold, so perfect. And then it dawned on her because she'd patterned the woman after Evelyn...her thought never finished because the butler graciously led her up the grand staircase and interrupted her mind.

"Master Wayne hasn't seen anyone outside the East Room in nearly five years."

"Should I ask why?" Sinéad asked, careful not to overstep boundaries she shouldn't. "I heard he hadn't been seen in some years now, yet he still runs the company."

"Indeed he is the CEO and heir to the Wayne fortune, but the enterprise itself is run primarily by Lucius Fox. Master Wayne has no need to actually leave this house. He lost his parents when he was but a boy, and five years ago a woman he loved in a tragic fire. She was everything to him, and when he lost her, he didn't move on to find another one in his life."

The journey up the stairs and to the east drawing room mentioned was a trifle long because of the thick and countless steps, which made it difficult with her long black satin dress with off-shoulder straps, given she had to carry the train to walk, and it was a good thing she chose flats. Around her neck was another necklace she owned but saved for occasions; the stones were blissful blue quartz accented with amethysts. Wayne Manor had been burned down some years before only to be fabulously rebuilt. Had she'd been here before then, she would have detected any differences.

"Here we are." The door had been cracked open, but Sinéad wasn't sure if Alfred did that himself or if the occupant on the other side did before she came here. "I shall wait outside, Miss Ryan. But please, don't upset him in any way and keep your sentences brief."

He talked as if Wayne was an old man who didn't catch on fast. She nodded and walked inside.

~o~

Rachel decided to follow them, make sure nobody else saw her. She had always known she'd find Alfred again, anticipated his reaction and even more when she finally came to the east drawing room she remembered in vivid detail from childhood. The manor once owned by Bruce's parents had been rebuilt as he said the way it would be: "Just the way it was, brick for brick."

"Rachel." The way Alfred greeted her was terse.

"Hi, Alfred." A simple greeting never solved anything, but she didn't know how else to speak to one of the men she loved dearly and was forced to fool into believing she was dead. "I know a simple sorry won't fix it."

"No, it won't," he agreed, though a smile was beginning to form, silently telling her he was happy she was alive, that Bruce would be happy, although she doubted he'd take it all the way well, given how broken she heard the butler tell Sinéad.

"I escaped the fire, but I had to hide because of how things were. I always wanted to come back," Rachel explained. "And I have a son." Me and Bruce's son.

Alfred chuckled. "I somehow always knew there would be a new member of the family. Master Bruce would be most happy."

She gave a short laugh. "But I don't think he'll be ready to be a father." Seeing me alive again, might not believe what I plan to tell him, and now just learning he's a father to a four-year-old boy.

"He might, or he might not. It's a blessing Miss Ryan did that painting of you that proved to be the road for you back here."

She did it when she didn't know anything about four years ago, but yeah, you're right. Sinéad brought us back together, like a fairytale come true where your true love is worth fighting for and always worth the wait.

~o~

Sinéad found herself in a mostly empty room that looked like nobody ever came in here, and much of the furniture pieces were covered with a white sheet as though ready to be moved or just not to be messed with ever again. She suspected Bruce Wayne was an inactive man, and it made her wonder how he ever survived besides his butler.

She then spotted a long dresser-like set in front of a long window collection, and atop was a collection of framed photographs. Walking up to them, she picked one up depicting a smiling couple, one being a very handsome man and the woman blonde and sunny. His parents. Thomas and Martha Wayne were murdered by a mugger in an alleyway, their young son witnessing it all happen right in front of him. He was an only child like she herself; now that she thought of her own parents, Sinéad wondered how her life would have been if they died when she was still a child, and it would have been just her and Gran. She still would have died when I was seventeen, and I'd fend for myself alone, starving in the streets, working a job while still trying to finish school.

The next one truly raptured her attention.

Evelyn.

There was no mistaking the same face, only this one had much longer brown waves in spiraling curls over one shoulder, some spilling onto the other, and she was happy. Now Sinéad pieced it together. Evelyn had known Bruce Wayne, but how? And how come she never talked about her past?

And was Wayne the father of her young son?

"Miss Ryan, I presume."

She shrieked and jumped, turning around at the source of the voice. A man stood there, wearing a dressing gown over sleeping clothes. He had dark hair, wavy but greasy that spoke of few baths or showers, and the small beard and mustache on his face also was a sign that appearances didn't matter much to him anymore. He had to have gone through a lot in the last four years like Jonathan had, only different circumstances. And she knew exactly who this was. "Sinéad, please, Mr. Wayne. I hate formal uses."

He gave a low chuckle that seemed actually empty of any humor; anything funny must have abandoned him years before. "Well, then, Sinéad, I was impressed with your work."

She regarded him suspiciously. "But why, may I ask?"

Wayne was silent for a moment, looking down to the floor as though deep in thought. "Just that it reminded me of someone I knew a long time ago." His brows furrowed by the time he looked back up at her. "Makes me also wonder where you got the idea from. That's why I asked you here."

What could she tell him? She couldn't lie to him, and Evelyn was outside; Sinéad was a wave of confused emotions right now, so she settled on, "Well, there's a woman who works at a bar downtown, and she's a friend of mine. She gave me the inspiration," she answered awkwardly. "It never crossed my mind that -"

"Bruce."

Both turned around to see Evelyn standing there, right behind him when nobody heard or saw her come in.

~o~

Sinéad Ryan was prettier than he thought she'd be. She was Irish; you could tell in her first name and now in her elfin face, her accent, as well as her mildly timid demeanor, but now Bruce was no longer focusing his attention on the young woman who created the canvas downstairs for all the elite and press to admire. No...no, no, it can't be...no...

Except it was. "Rachel?" was all he could get out as he stared at the image before him, wondering if he was seeing a ghost. Just to make sure he wasn't dreaming, he began to walk her way. He'd seen her in dreams and waking hours, and in the pictures still about the manor, but now she was here? She was supposed to be dead!

She was so beautiful, more than he remembered. She was in a stunning blue velvet dress baring her shoulders and chest, the side slit to show a leg, and the diamonds and rubies glittering he'd given her at one time for her birthday in their teen years. She was a bombshell. More than any actress or model in the world. Just to see if he wasn't going crazy, he reached out and touched the side of her face, noticing that her soft brown curls were cut short so they bobbed around her ears. Short and sexy, he loved it.

But most of all, he actually felt her, and she was real. "Oh, Rachel!" he gasped wrapping his arms around her waist, all the painful feelings returning as he held her to him for the first time in forever, inhaling her alluring and musky jasmine and rose perfume that still haunted his senses, and her arms wrapped around his neck as she desperately clung to him and began to cry with him.

Lovers reunited, but more to come. Stay tuned!