Disclaimer: I own no part of the Batman franchise and make no profit from this fiction.
Molly sat down at the bar that bordered the kitchen and watched as Bruce walked over to Alfred and spoke with him in low tones. A second later, Alfred approached and slid a fresh omelet onto the plate in front of her. It jarred her from her reverie and she looked up at him.
"Oh, I couldn't possibly eat the entire thing," she protested. "I insist- have you made one for Bruce yet? Here, cut mine in half, please- oh, I'll do it-"
She began to saw at it with her knife and fork and Alfred set the pan down, gently laid his hands on hers and removed the silverware.
"I'll take care of that, Miss Molly. Master Bruce, I poured some tea out-"
Bruce looked at the cups of tea sitting on the counter and back to Molly, who was sitting on her barstool, shoulders hunched, looking very much like an acolyte who'd lit the wrong candle. She looked over at him helplessly and he smiled.
"Alfred, is there brandy in this tea?"
"No, Sir. Should there be?"
"I think so."
Fifteen minutes later, after the first pangs of late night hunger had been sated, Molly and Bruce sat side by side, watching the news on a nearby television which Bruce had turned on. Alfred had done up the cooking dishes and had respectfully retired to his own bedroom for the remainder of the evening, unless otherwise asked. He hadn't said a word to Bruce about the stunned look on Molly's face.
And now, Bruce's attention was on the television screen and Molly's attention was on the bottom of her cup, where a few tea leaves had escaped to. She was waging an internal war: talk to him about the kiss? Don't talk about the kiss? Which was even more difficult to think about clearly when he'd just given her brandy. She decided that it was okay, for one night, if she was unsure of herself and needed attention like a poorly behaved six year old whose goldfish had just died. The comparison of Rob to a goldfish, however, brought her semi-lucid internal ramblings to a halt. She wished she could have gone home to her gran. She would have known what to do or say. And if I needed extra time to cry she would have left me alone. Or hugged me. But no kissing would have gone on.
Why was it that men always thought a good kiss would clear things up? She wasn't sure, but she kind of wanted Bruce to test out that theory on her again. And that's when she decided she ought to go to bed. She looked over at him.
"I should go to bed now," she said.
He glanced over from the news and eyed her for a moment before nodding in agreement and turning off the television. He stood up and set the remote down before walking away. She stared after him.
"Um," she said.
He turned around. "Yes? Do you need something? Glass of water?"
"No, I can figure that out, thanks- what do we do with these dishes?"
He looked at the cups and plates and back at her. "Leave them."
"You're joking."
"I am not. Alfred needs something to do, doesn't he?"
She slid from her stool and stacked the dishes. "Mr. Wayne- Bruce- I just don't understand you."
He stopped in his tracks and faced her. "What's there to understand?"
Her brows drew together in frustration and she walked the dishes into the kitchen. "It takes two minutes to wash these. Honestly, didn't you ever help with the housework?"
"That's not what either of us meant, Molly." He walked back over and stood next to the bar, watching her rinse the cups out.
She looked up at him uncertainly before turning her attention back to the plates this time. She had to make a choice, now. He'd offered her a chance to ask him the question that had been bothering her and if she passed, it would only be more difficult to bring it up. That is, if their relationship- not that they had one- progressed. She finally set the dishes down in the drainer and turned to face him, dish towel in hands, forcing herself to meet his eyes.
"You're not that man," she said finally.
He regarded her quietly, a small smile on his face. He didn't know what had overcome him, but he was trying to salvage the mistake he'd made earlier in letting her see the real him- the one Rachel had known so well, the one that only Alfred knew now.
"Excuse me?"
"That man, the one in the papers and on the news. This- this act you're putting on right now! You're not him! There's no way that the man who was so kind to me earlier- who went to all that trouble with the foundation on Sunday, who drove all the way out the Gotham City Police Department for my sake tonight- is the fake you! I refuse to believe it!" Unspoken were the words, because if he's not real then I was just a fool. I let myself kiss a man who was only trying to use me all along.
A muscle in his jaw twitched- nothing to the outsider, but to the trained eyes of a teacher it meant everything.
"I'm right! This isn't you, is it?"
"And if you're right?" he responded, the smile now gone. "What do you want me to say?"
She glared at him. "You're right. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking. It doesn't matter either way, does it? You're still rich and I'm still living on your charity at the moment. How rude of me." She threw the towel on the counter and marched past him, only to have him catch her arm.
"Let go," she demanded. When he didn't, she met his eyes again. He looked sorry.
"I apologize," he murmured. "And you are right. It's just that not many people know this side of me."
"And not many people know this side of me," she replied.
"I find that hard to believe. You're always genuine, aren't you? So you don't let people see you cry, so what? That doesn't mean anything. Everyone has moments of weakness, Molly. But you…I'm pretty sure you are always this determined to be strong."
She stared at him, wide eyed, and jerked her arm back again, but he still wouldn't let go.
"Why me?" she asked for the second time that night.
"Why not you?" he replied, watching her, his eyes not blinking, not moving from her face.
And then, not thirty minutes after he'd sworn not to do it anymore, he kissed her again. She responded immediately by putting her hand on the back of his neck. He let her other arm go and put both around her waist before leaning back against the kitchen counter and pulling her with him. When she landed against him he wrapped his arms around her more tightly and proceeded to kiss her with a renewed vigor. His lips were demanding and she felt herself melting against his chest, tilting her head back again, giving him full access. His lips were firm and warm and when they opened against hers and she felt his tongue slipping between her own lips, she gave in with a sigh. Her mouth opened and he explored it gently, testing the waters. Molly could feel a slow heat pooling in her belly and she wasn't sure if it was from the food and alcohol or his tongue in her mouth, but both were incredibly pleasant at that point. She twisted her head beneath his so it was resting on his shoulder and he continued to kiss her, pushing away from the counter with his hips- sending another flush of heat through her nether regions- and turning them around so that she was trapped between him and the countertop.
He pulled away to look down at her tenderly. His eyes were sad. Hers fluttered open and she met his gaze.
"I'm sorry- I don't mean to keep doing this to you," he apologized.
One of her hands tugged on his shirtfront and she gave a rueful smile. "I don't mean to keep letting you." She looked down, worrying her lower lip. "I really should go to bed now."
"That's a good idea," he agreed, but neither moved.
They remained wrapped in each other's arms for another moment before her hand slipped from his neck and he took the cue, removing his arms and stepping away, though his hands still rested lightly near her hips. And then, her gaze locked with his, she leaned forward and kissed him softly on his cheek, just next to his lips. He stared at her, confused and she smiled at him.
"Thanks for looking out for me. I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"
He came out of his reverie easily and dropped his hands from her waist, "Maybe. But don't worry about entering and exiting the building. I'll notify the staff that you're staying with us."
She sighed and walked away from him, but he heard her mutter under her breath, "That's what I was afraid of." He smiled and watched her until he saw the door of her room close, then he turned, shut off the lights in the kitchen, and wandered into the living area. He stood in front of the wall of windows, hands in his pockets, brooding. What had gotten into him? He was Bruce Wayne, billionaire and philanthropist, not to mention Batman, one of Gotham's leading crime fighters. He had his hands full and led two very busy lives. He had no time for a woman, let alone one that had equally little time for him. Let alone one that could probably put two and two together. Sure, she was beautiful, in an unusual way, and she was strong and principled- just his type. But what made her different? She looked nothing like Rachel- maybe that was the draw. He wanted love and affection, sure, but to have a duplicate of Rachel staring at him day after day would be unnerving.
Lightening flashed across the sky outside and he looked up at his reflection in the glass. Who was he kidding? It had nothing- and everything- to do with Rachel. It always would, in some small way. But Molly was different and the bottom line was that he was ready for different, finally. Ready for something that didn't walk around in stilettos. Ready for a woman who knew the value of a hard day's work. Ready for something that wasn't make-believe. He wanted different. He wanted her, a poor school teacher who'd been lobbying for school reforms since she was sixteen. Who was raised by her grandmother. Who had no desire for children of her own because she wanted to spend all her time on her students. Who had no desire for a relationship- just like himself. They were remarkably alike.
Lightening flashed again, followed seconds later by thunder. Bruce stared at himself and brought a thoughtful hand to his lips. He'd kissed a woman he barely knew twice in one night, at the most inappropriate time, and she had kissed him back. And he'd liked it, beyond all reason. All he knew was that he wanted to keep her safe, to help her, to give her anything she wanted…he dropped his hand and looked over in the direction of her closed door. He grimaced and shoved his hand back in his pocket.
He wanted her.
The next morning dawned sunny, the skies clear for the first time in days. Molly woke up to the sun already streaming in through the window. She was disoriented for a minute- her internal clock was strong, she never woke up after the sun had risen. She woke when it was dark and gloomy and the chill of night still lay over the city streets. She lifted herself to a sitting position and glanced around, one hand coming to her forehead in confusion. Where was she? What was going on? And why wasn't she already awake when it was a school day?
With a gasp, the previous night's events came back to her and she felt a wave of nausea sweep over her. That was right…she was in Bruce Wayne's penthouse, Robert was dead, she was the possible target of a gang (of Russian speakers)…she stumbled from the bed to the bathroom in time to lose whatever was left from the late night meal in the toilet. She got to her feet and stood in front of the sink, rinsing her mouth and face carefully, her hands still shaking. None of that today, Molly, she told herself. You said you would be alright today. What will Bruce think when he sees what a mess you still are? Not that she cared what he thought. Her fingers lingered over her lips and she looked at herself carefully. Did evidence remain of his gentle ministrations? Would Alfred be able to tell she'd been given the kisses of her life last night?
Stop it, she thought, glaring at herself. You're not some simpering teenager and it wasn't your first kiss. It's not as if you slept with the man…though that line of reasoning didn't help her much, because then she was just imagining him naked and kissing her. She walked out of the bathroom and back into the sunny bedroom. The realization of what time it must be struck her again and she looked over at the clock on the nightstand. It was already eight o'clock. She was still for another second and then she was digging through her things, pulling out the appropriate wear, swapping underwear, sliding into the slacks and sweater, applying a light layer of makeup and heading for the door of the bedroom, satchel in hand. Maybe Bruce and Alfred had thought it was kind of them to let her sleep in- she had been tired and stressed last night- but it was imperative she show up to school like everything was fine; if they were going to pull off fooling the gang for another few days.
She rushed out of the room and headed straight for the kitchen area, not even noticing that she was passing Bruce, who was sitting in an armchair calmly reading the morning paper. He stood up as she passed him and gave a cheerful hello, startling her so that she dropped her satchel. She flushed and bent to retrieve it only to find Bruce's hands there first, picking it up and handing it to her.
"Sorry about that," he murmured. "Didn't mean to scare you."
She grabbed the bag and slung the strap over her shoulder. "You didn't," she said shortly. "It's just that my mind is elsewhere- I'm so late for school. I didn't even have my morning run, I didn't get any papers graded last night, I won't get there until nine with morning traffic the way it is- the trains will be crowded…" Her voice trailed off as she realized Bruce was looking at her strangely. "What?"
He raised an eyebrow and gestured at the television. "School was cancelled today. Superintendent Grace seemed to think it would be the best thing to do, in light of Mr. Hardy's death."
Molly paled and turned to look at the news. "Oh, no," she moaned.
It was Bruce's turn to be surprised. "Is that bad? I thought it was rather kind of him, actually."
"He could've at least had a half day- can't you imagine how this will affect the kids? I know some of them are more familiar with gangs than most their teachers, but to lose a trusted adult in their lives- one from the only place most of them consider safe-" she stopped as she saw Bruce's expression. His disbelief made her angry. "I know what you're thinking- how can a place that allows kids to carry guns and knives and give each other Ecstasy in the bathroom be safe? Well, I have news for you-"
Bruce held up his hands. "I didn't mean anything of the sort. You're the expert on the schools, not me."
She relaxed some and stood back from him, eyeing him warily before she turned to the news again. She couldn't believe she'd let herself be kissed senseless by the man last night. His expression softened and he gestured towards the kitchen.
"Would you like some breakfast? I don't know what your morning routine is, but you're welcome to make do with whatever we have around here. There is a gym downstairs, if you take exercise-"
She waved a hand and set her satchel down near an end table. "Don't worry about it. If I feel like a run I'll take one. I don't feel like much of anything after last night, but I think I ought to go in to the school for at least a little while today. There are some papers I left- and I'm sure the cancellation doesn't apply to the teachers, too. They'll be sure to hold some kind of meeting for us."
"Grace called to leave a message for you specifically, actually. He wants you to call him back as soon as you're able."
"Oh, um, alright. I'll take care of that then." She started back towards the bedroom, stopped and turned around again. "Where is Alfred?"
Bruce smiled. "Running errands. I'll take you to the school whenever you need to go."
Her expression tightened and she started to walk away again. "I didn't know you qualified as police escort, Bruce. I imagine you're as effective as the Batman."
He clenched his jaw, but didn't reply and watched her disappear again. So that was how things were this morning. She was uncomfortable and angry about what had happened last night. He didn't blame her, truly, but if he was going to his job- and what is it, exactly?- she would have to trust him. He thought they'd addressed the issue last night, but apparently she was seeing things differently in the light of day. With a sigh he raked his hand through his hair and started after her. They clearly needed to talk again.
He paused at the door, seeing she was still on the phone with Grace. She was upset again- no surprise, really. He wondered what Grace had told her, and if the man had suggested the same solution to her that Bruce had heard earlier.
"No- absolutely not!" she exclaimed, speaking into her cell phone. There was a pause and she interrupted the other speaker again. "I'm already at his apartment- penthouse- whatever! I don't see why I should have to indulge in charades just because you haven't been able to clean up our schools of gang wars yet!" She was quiet for another moment and her face went pale. "You wouldn't," she hissed accusingly. "I'm not the one who got us in this mess! It's not my fault I was there last night- no! I said no!"
Bruce could hear Superintendent Grace was shouting over the phone now as well, and Molly pulled it away from her ear somewhat and her eyebrows scrunched together before she finally broke across the man's rant. "You know what? Fine. But I'm not happy about it and the only reason I'm doing it is because you really are enough of an asshole to fire me." Another pause and she replied coolly, "Alright. Yes, I'm going to school today…yes, I understand. Okay. Good bye."
She flipped the phone closed and her shoulders sagged, her eyes staring blankly off across the horizon of Gotham. Bruce made a small movement and she turned around. Her expression wasn't angry…it was more resigned than anything. It concerned him.
"Will you be alright?" he asked. She gave him a once over and turned away again.
She shrugged. "You knew. He talked to you when he called this morning."
"I did," he admitted. She sighed and rubbed her eyes.
"You could have at least said something. Prepared me." She hung her head. "God, this is wretched."
"Will it really be so awful?"
Molly lifted her head and looked over at him. "Pretend that I'm with you so that the people assume we've moved in together and don't figure out that you're just harboring me? Really? You think people will buy it?"
"It seems to me, based on what the papers have been publishing the last week, that people are already buying it."
She rolled her eyes and looked out the window again. "Still. I haven't told a lie of this magnitude in a long time."
"You don't have to lie about anything if you don't want to. Just don't answer their questions when you're approached- their gossip hungry minds will do the rest. Stop denying it and you won't have to tell any lies."
"It's the same thing," she murmured, her voice low and edgy.
"If that's how you want to look at it-"
"It is, thanks," she replied. They were both quiet for several minutes and he finally broke the silence.
"How do you live this way? How can you stand to be so damn honest all the time?"
She gave him a wry smile and raised an eyebrow. "I don't understand how youlive this way, either," she gestured around. "Not to mention that mask you've put back in place."
He looked as though he wanted to say something to that, but she waved a hand and moved past him. "Don't waste your breath, Bruce. I think I'll eventually like you well enough. You don't have to keep making excuses. At any rate, now is not the time for heartfelt confessions. Are you driving me to the school or not?"
Bruce smiled and shook his head. "Alright. Your wish is my command. We can talk about the foundation on the way." He daren't let Molly's words bother him too much. He supposed to the average, intelligent woman he was a bit of a mystery and he couldn't blame her for feeling out of place. She was perfectly right- they could save the confessions for later. Besides, there was no way he could talk about his parents with her right now and not have her quick wit catch up to the answers.
She gave him a sidelong glance as she passed through the kitchen, grabbing a travel mug and water bottle. "Yes- I am interested in that. I would have called back, but…"
"I understand."
She straightened up and put the items in her satchel, then hoisted the bag over her shoulder. "I have to admit something, though."
Bruce waited and watched as she eyed him in return, fidgeting with the strap of her satchel, tucking a stray hair back into place against her head.
"I don't just want to talk about the foundation- I want to talk about what it is no one is telling me about the shooting."
He raised his eyebrows and frowned. "I'm sorry?"
"I know the police weren't telling me something- I expect that from them. But you know something you're not saying, too, and if I'm going to be staying here and putting my reputation on the line by pretending to be your next…" she paused and flushed before pushing forward, "your next liaison, then I deserve to know why I'm doing it."
Bruce could feel the mask she seemed to detect so easily trying to slip back into place and he struggled to keep his stupid, play-boy grin off his face. She was right- she wasn't stupid. She deserved to know what was going on…to a certain degree. He forced his shoulders to relax and schooled his face into a serious expression.
"Alright. We'll talk about it- but after you're finished at the school. There's not enough time between now and the drive to explain it. And if Commissioner Gordon finds out I told you anything-"
Molly laughed and rolled her eyes. "Bruce, I'm a grown woman who had the common sense to know something was going on behind my back. I think I can guess when it's appropriate to reveal my sources. I know you're generally a friend of the city, but you aren't exactly supposed to know any of this stuff either, are you?" She shook her head and began to walk towards the door. "I wish I could get my hands on whatever learning resources you have at your disposal."
Bruce watched her walk away and then followed quickly, grabbing his keys from the nearby table top. Alfred was right- he would have to step carefully with her…except he wasn't sure he wanted to anymore. And that was perhaps the only thing Alfred was really right about- Bruce could no longer trust himself. A scary thought, indeed. He caught up with her at the elevator and casually put an arm around her shoulders. When she stiffened, he smiled down at her.
"Keeping up appearances. Don't worry- I won't do anything gauche."
She gave a funny laugh and relaxed. "Is that what it would take for me to get my hands on your technology?"
He looked up at the closing elevator doors and punched the button. "You'd really do anything for your students, wouldn't you?"
She gave a short nod. "Almost anything. Everyone has limits, don't they? Even the Batman," she said with an uneasy laugh.
Bruce's arm tightened about her and he laughed with her. "Does he? Tell that to all those people he killed."
Molly shook her head and her hands clutched the strap of her satchel more tightly. "I don't know if I really believe all that. Anyway, it was three years ago. I'm not saying I agree with him, or even think he's much good at what he does…but he's made a small difference, at least. That has to mean something."
Bruce's eyes softened and he smiled down at her again. "I suppose so."
Molly looked up at him, but didn't return his smile. She returned his stare for several seconds and looked away abruptly. They were quiet for the rest of the elevator ride, each lost in their thoughts. Molly, on the tragedies of the schools and last night; Bruce, on the strange truth in Molly's grey eyes. He wondered how long these new feelings would last...for both of them.
AN: Ah, another chapter and more kissing- and now I'm really setting it up, lol. Yes, this plot twist should work out. I can't believe I didn't think of it before; faked relationships are a great way to get the main characters to fall for each other (or at the very least, get it on). Enjoy! (Oh how I wish Christopher Nolan had need for a hot, independent school teacher character- maybe then I'd get to meet Mr. Bale- sigh! I'm a good writer, Mr. Nolan! Don't you want the rights to my character? Pleeeease?) Sorry for the extended sidenote- we're coming up on the final two weeks of graduate school and then graduation and we're all a little out of minds. :) (You can tell because I'm referring to myself in the plural!)
