Disclaimer: I own no part of the Batman franchise and make no money from this fiction.
Once Bruce had parked the car in the safety of the gated and guarded underground garage, he insisted on helping Molly from the car and then carrying her bags. He grabbed both in one hand and swung one easily over his shoulder, carrying the other by hand. That left a hand free to keep behind Molly's back, hovering an inch or two away. If she hadn't been so tired Molly would have been bothered by his proximity. She had to keep reminding herself that she was a grown woman who'd had, well, a few boyfriends and that there was nothing going on between her and Bruce. Although the way he kept glancing at her- protectively, concerned- might give others a false impression. Not to mention that they would be living together for a few days, at least. She'd better get used to his presence, she told herself.
Bruce, for his part, was enjoying carrying her bags. She'd packed two and they felt like they had enough in them to last her two months rather than the day or two she'd said she would tolerate. Of course, half of the weight was probably books and papers, but he could dream. Not that he should be congratulating himself on getting her in his grasp under such awful circumstances; but he couldn't help the tiny thrill he felt when she cast him a glance from beneath those dark lashes…they contrasted so well with her pale skin and light hair.
When she suddenly stopped before they entered the lobby of the building, Bruce wasn't prepared and his hand caught her back. Though she jumped at the contact, he did not move it and kept it where it had landed, lying against her lower back. He leaned forward her over shoulder to look at her.
"What's the matter? Did you forget something?"
"No-" she began, her breath catching. "I just…I can't believe I'm doing this," she offered with an uncomfortable laugh.
"It's easy," he replied. "Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. You were doing great a minute ago-"
"Oh, haha," she responded, cutting him off. "Never mind. I'm fine. Let's go."
"No, no- please, tell me what's wrong. We don't move unless you're alright."
"Look, Bruce, it's great that you're being so sweet right now, but I'm not a child. Yes, I'm upset about what happened earlier- I don't know how to feel yet, but I don't need to talk about it, especially not with you. Can't we just pretend for now that we're roommates who don't like each other? I need some time to adjust right now and talking about it isn't going to help."
Bruce resisted the urge to argue with her and instead smiled and nodded. "Alright. If that's what you want-"
"It is," she said with finality and then moved ahead into the lobby, walking straight across the polished stone floors to the elevators.
Bruce kept up with her easily and reached for the button before her. She crossed her arms and looked around as they waited. A few yards away a doorman stood behind a desk. He noticed her and gave her a smile and a wink, seeing she was with Bruce. She sniffed and glanced away. This was what she'd been afraid of- there was no way to reach Wayne's penthouse without someone seeing them together. That was certain to be misconstrued. And now he probably thought she was a complete bitch for what she'd said. Well, let him. It was his fault her name was in all the papers…wasn't it?
She began to feel guilty again. Rob had been right, hadn't he? She was taking the whole thing too seriously. If she wanted to be involved in the fund her name would stay in the spotlight for who knew how long. She would have to grow a tougher skin. It was almost funny- she was tough as nails in school and at home, but when it came to the public, she hadn't the first idea how to deal with media attention. Mostly because she'd never been exposed to it before. It was just another new thing she'd have to learn to live with, she supposed. In the meantime, however, she'd still been rude to Bruce, and after the kindness he'd been showing her…she worried her lower lip a little. Should she apologize? Would he rather not talk, too? Was he upset with her?
With the new territory came the same questions about herself and her confidence that she'd hoped were laid to rest years ago. She hadn't felt this out of place since middle school- which was part of the reason she loved teaching that age group so much. She remembered what it was like to feel as though your life was out of control and you would never fit in anywhere, ever again; and she wanted to make sure the kids had someone who still remembered those feelings guiding them through it. And yet…just because the circumstances had changed on her somewhat didn't mean she should totally lose who she was. Wasn't that what she was constantly telling her kids? Don't let the things that happen to you define you. It's how you react to them that makes you who you are. So if she was acting like a shy, nervous thirteen year old right now, what did that say about her?
She snuck a peek at Bruce only to realize that he was watching her intently. He smiled at her and she forced herself to smile back.
"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," she offered.
He shook his head. "Don't worry about. Here's the elevator- ladies first."
It would have been amusing in any other circumstance- or maybe not- but Molly found that once she'd stepped through the doors (literally and figuratively) Bruce had held open for her, she couldn't stop talking.
"I'm so unused to all this; and you're right- I probably do need to talk about what happened. But not that specifically, tonight. Right now I need sleep. You understand, right? I'm not trying to be rude, really. I just can't stand not knowing what's going on, or what's happening next. I spent such a long time learning to accept the things that happened to me when I was younger and well, it's been a while since I've had to deal with change…" Her voice trailed off and she looked up at him again, shrugging. "I'm babbling. Sorry again. I just need to know you understand, I guess. That you're not mad-"
He interrupted her. "Why would I be mad? You've been through a trauma tonight, Molly. And I understand that better than most. Talk, don't talk- just do what makes you comfortable. God knows I can't stand in judgment on anyone," he quipped.
"Oh, that's right…your parents...?" Molly didn't elaborate further; she was unwilling to display her ignorance of the man who was putting her up. How would it sound? Well, to be honest, Mr. Wayne, I've never thought of you until I met you last Sunday.
The smile on his face grew tighter and he looked up as the doors opened onto his floor.
"Yes," he replied, but didn't say anything else and Molly looked down again
Moments later Alfred was opening the doors to the penthouse for them.
"Good evening, Master Bruce, Miss Weil. May I carry anything for you?"
"No, Alfred, we're fine, thank you. Second bedroom?" he asked, holding up Molly's bags. When Alfred nodded in affirmative, Bruce walked off with the luggage.
Molly's eyes followed him unintentionally and she stood looking after him until Alfred cleared his throat beside her, jolting her back to reality.
"Miss Weil, are you hungry? Thirsty? Is there anything I can do for you?"
She shook her head and held out her hand. "No, I'm sorry. Please, call me Molly, Mr. Alfred."
Alfred took her hand and gave it a small shake. "It's just Alfred, Miss Molly."
"Don't you have a last name?"
"I do, but since you'll never be using it, let's leave things at that, why don't we?"
Bruce walked back over to them, his smile a little more relaxed. "It's Pennyworth, but don't ever call him that. Alfred likes everyone to think of him as family."
"Close enough, Sir. And what may I get for you?"
Bruce looked to Molly, who was shaking her head, clearly appalled that someone was going to cook for her. His smile broadened a little and he kept his eyes trained on her as he replied.
"How about an omelet? You really should eat something. It'll help with the shock."
"I'm not in shock-" she started to protest, but just then her knees buckled and she felt a wave of dizziness engulf her. Bruce stepped forward and caught her arms neatly, bringing her back to her feet.
"First things first- a hot shower and a change of clothes. No, I've got it covered, Alfred- see to the food, please."
She didn't even bother to protest when he half carried her to the shower connected to her new room and sat on the toilet lid quietly while he dug through her bags for a pair of pajamas. He walked back into the bathroom and started the shower running and steam spouted from the pipes almost immediately.
"These okay?" he asked, holding up a worse-for-wear long sleeved t-shirt and black yoga pants.
She nodded weakly and murmured a thank you before letting her gaze fall back to the wall in front of her. She'd thought she was simply tired earlier from the stress of it all, but shock definitely made sense. She was starting to feel rather numb, in fact, and wondered that she hadn't realized what was going on. There was a movement to her left and then Bruce's face shifted into view. He was kneeling in front of her, a worried look on his face.
"Hey," he said softly. "You're going to be okay."
She felt herself nod stiffly and fought the tears that threatened to spill at his unexpected kindness and understanding.
"Do you need help with anything else?" he asked, nodding towards the shower stall.
She shook her head in response this time and he smiled at her again, bringing his hands to her shoulders and giving them a good squeeze before he stood and walked out.
"If you need anything, press the call button," he offered before closing the door behind him.
Molly watched the door shut and listened for his footsteps as he walked away. With some effort, she peeled off her clothing, realizing in horror that blood was spattered along the edges of the sleeves from her efforts to revive Rob. A shaky sob escaped her throat and she stood up, managing to stumble to the shower stall and crawl in before the second sob wracked her body. Once inside the stall, she sat on the floor under the hot spray and curled her knees into her chest, allowing the tears she'd held back-tears she didn't know she had- fall. She prayed they couldn't hear her; not because she didn't want Bruce to see her moment of weakness; but because she needed a moment to mourn Rob privately. To mourn her old self. And this was the only chance she would have: sobbing on the floor of someone else's shower.
Despite all her posturing and all her high minded ideas, she felt ridiculously pathetic. But she knew she had to let herself feel that way, even if only for a moment. That way she could know what it felt like and then make sure it never happened again.
"And how is Miss Weil?" Alfred asked Bruce when he'd reappeared in the kitchen's doorway.
"Probably losing it," Bruce answered truthfully, though his face was grim.
"I see. And you chose not to comfort her? Did you forget the play-boy at the door when you came in, Sir?"
Bruce looked away. He knew Alfred was referring to his behavior- he wasn't acting like his public persona around Molly and Alfred was implying that it could be dangerous to his balancing act.
"Now's not the time for that," he said glibly, trying to brush off Alfred's prying question.
"Yes, but if you'll pardon my saying so, Master Bruce, it's only a matter of time before it comes to question."
"It's not your concern. I trust her, Alfred."
"You don't know her, Sir, and you can barely trust yourself."
Bruce was quiet and Alfred looked up at him. "Two eggs or three?"
Bruce rolled his eyes and pushed away from the door frame. "I'm going to check on her. You're the chef, make up your own mind- and stop digging in mine."
The shower was still running when Bruce walked back into the bedroom. He sat down in an armchair in the corner to wait…not to mention think. He knew Alfred was right; he should be taking it slower with Molly- not revealing so much of himself at once. But he couldn't help it. She needed support and he couldn't give that to her if he was tossing drinks back and trying to get her into his bed. She wasn't that kind of girl- he didn't want her to be that kind of girl. But no, he couldn't trust her entirely, either. How could he tell Alfred that he simply had a hunch about her? That she felt right? Alfred would give him that disapproving look and say something ruthless and make Bruce feel like he was ten again. Or would he? It was hard to tell sometimes how Alfred would react. He'd certainly seemed encouraging just a few days ago. And now? He would just have to try and slow it down, even if events were conspiring to keep him from thinking clearly. He looked out the bank of windows to his right and thought to the last time someone had used this bedroom. So much had changed.
He wondered if Rachel had forgiven him, wherever she was now.
The door to the bathroom opened and he looked over as steam rolled out in waves.
"Feeling better?" he asked, the tight smile back in place.
Molly stopped short as she was exiting the bathroom, a towel still in her hands as she rubbed it over her wet hair, which was plastered to her head. There was no energy to the motion, though she was at least standing on her own. Her cheeks were red and her eyes looked a little bleary. He knew she'd been crying and his heart ached a little more.
For her part, astonishment swept over her, followed by the inability to breath. She didn't understand why she was still reacting this way- he'd made it clear he cared about her well being; why should it keep surprising her so much? What was the kindness of a stranger to her?
Her breath caught in her throat and she brought her hands to her mouth, letting the towel drop. It seemed she wasn't quite done crying, yet. She fell back against the doorframe and felt her knees start to give out on her again. Bruce was out his chair in a flash and putting his arms around her, helping her up. She tried to feebly push him away, but keep her face covered at the same time.
"Please go away," she whispered brokenly.
"I'm not leaving you, Molly," Bruce replied. He tried to steer her over to the bed to sit down, but she resisted and shook her head.
"Please…I can't stand for people to see me this way-"
"What way is that?" he asked quietly. He helped her stand against the wall and brought his hands to her wrists, gently drawing her hands away from her face.
"This- I'm sorry," she mumbled, her mouth trembling as she tried to keep from bawling. "I'm just not myself right now."
"You're fine," he soothed, bringing a hand to her face, smoothing her damp hair from where it had stuck to her forehead. It gave her a sleek look, her skin still glistening from the heat and steam. He lowered his voice further. "You're fine."
She finally looked up at him, her lashes wet with the tears that still spilled from the corners of her eyes. "Why are you doing all this for me?" she whispered, her lower lip still trembling.
Instead of answering her question, he drew closer to her and brought his other hand to her face as well, cradling it between the two, brushing wayward tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. His brown eyes burned into hers and she felt her breath leave her altogether as she held it, waiting to see what he would do- what he would say. She felt like she was floating outside her body, watching herself become someone she'd never thought she could be. To him, she was already everything he could ever want her to be. He wondered idly what it meant that this was the second time he'd wanted to kiss her and yet, he hadn't had any champagne that night.
"I'm going to kiss you now," he breathed softly. "Is that okay?"
Her eyes widened and she tried to move her head in protest, but his hands kept her face still, her eyes locked on his. Bruce cursed at himself for taking advantage of her, but he covered any words she might've said with his mouth anyway. Her lips were soft and yielding beneath his, though she kept them determinedly closed and he could feel her tears against his own cheeks as he kissed her. She lifted her hands and grasped his shirt sleeves and he finally moved his hands from her face to wrap her in his arms.
Molly felt terrified and exhilarated all at once and she tilted her head back, letting him kiss her even as his lips grew more demanding against hers. If this was what a kiss from Bruce Wayne felt like, then that was what she wanted him to do- better be overwhelmed by passion and confusion than to feel the way she had been- upset and lonely and torn apart. She sighed against his lips and he lifted his head away to look at her. Her eyes opened and she returned his gaze, the hysteria from a moment ago gone and replaced by a strange contentment. Her eyes had melted beneath the tears and arousal to silver pools, daring him to keep going. Instead, he rested his forehead against hers and she closed her eyes, relaxing further into his grip.
"Molly," he said softly, reverently. So much for slowing it down, he shivered and her hands tightened their hold on his shirt. He caught her lips with his again and she kissed him back, this time. When he opened his mouth to ply her lips with his tongue, however, she broke away, eyes still closed, breathing shaky. Bruce watched her, waiting to see what she would do- what she wanted to do.
Her insides were in turmoil, her mind frozen. All she could feel was Bruce's breath on her face, his arms about her, his heart beat coming strong and fast through his chest. It all felt surprisingly good…too good. She wanted nothing more than to ignore the voice of reason that was beating against the cage she'd locked it in, screaming for help, asking her to please stop before she did something stupid. She was strong, but she wasn't herself just then and she knew that if she let him kiss her again she wouldn't be able to resist any longer. She wouldn't be able to stop herself from giving in to his warm body and strong hands the way she secretly wanted to. With some effort, she released her grip on his shirt and let her hands fall back to her sides.
Bruce caught the hint readily and loosened his arms, stepping back from her, but staying close in case she collapsed again. When she opened her eyes to look at him, a small smile of regret on her face, he didn't smile in return. He stayed serious, regarding her quietly. It was up to her how they dealt with what had just happened. Watching his serious face, the smile slipped from her lips and she looked away; bringing her arms about her body self consciously, one hand playing at her hair, smoothing the short strands away from her face. The shirt and pants she had donned must have fit the curve of her body once, but they were stretched and worn now and bunched at her elbows and hung loose about her feet. She felt more than a little ridiculous, but had to admit she was calmer than she had been a few minutes ago. She felt more alive, more aware…particularly of the man standing so close to her.
But she could think of absolutely nothing to say to Bruce Wayne. Thanks for the kiss. Nice technique, I bet you use it on all the girls. Well, he might, but she had a feeling that she was seeing a side of him precious few would ever see and she couldn't help but wonder why he was showing it to her. Were the rumors possibly true? Was he really interested in her for more than her good looks or a good time? Even that sounded ridiculous to her ears; she was hardly the belle of the ball. She shook her head and looked back over at him. He was still watching her.
"Do you think Alfred's done with the eggs?" she finally asked, breaking the long silence.
He pushed away from the wall he'd been leaning against. So that was her choice. Move on, pretend that hadn't just happened- that he hadn't just kissed a woman for the first time in three years as though his life depended on it. That she hadn't wanted him to kiss her. That they weren't both still trying to keep from slamming the door of the bedroom closed and leaving Alfred to throw out whatever food he'd made.
He smiled at her, finally, and she felt her shoulders relax with relief. "I don't know. I'll go check."
He started out the door and she jumped as he passed her. "I'll go with you," she said hurriedly, as though afraid he might return to trap her in the room if she stayed there; and she followed him swiftly out of the dim bedroom. At this rate, she would never get to be in time to get up for school in the morning.
But as long as she was being honest with herself, school- normally the only thing she thought of- was the furthest thing from her mind at that moment; and she was finding it difficult to keep her eyes from straying back to Bruce's tall, handsome figure. She prayed to God that she would be feeling more herself in the morning; that whatever it was she was feeling now- that sneaking suspicion she was being swept off her feet for the first time in her life- would pass.
AN: What kind of cheese is this, I wonder? Parmesan? Mozzarella? Maybe Pepper Jack, since it's so hot! Harharhar. No, seriously. I wasn't expecting them to kiss this soon, either, but the sooner they kiss the closer they are to getting it on! Wooooo. Don't worry, Molly is just a little out of sorts tonight from watching a man DIE. You would be too, wouldn't you? So she'll be more herself tomorrow. But still mightily attracted to Bruce. So point for him. (Who wouldn't be, honestly?)
Thanks again, maggie (and to my new reviewers as well)!
