I own no part of the Batman franchise; all characters and ideas (except for Molly!) belong to...someone else? DC Comics? I have no idea, but I'm not making any money off of this fiction.
Molly went to bed that night feeling strange. There had been no more come-ons from Bruce, no unexpected kisses or inappropriate suggestions. Only take-out, papers and the evening news…except for the soft glances and gentle touches Bruce had administered throughout the evening. It was like he'd put on kid gloves and Molly wasn't sure why, unless his visit with Gran had unearthed something. He was so smart- it was hard to tell what he'd picked up from just a passing mention of past events. To compound the confusion, the meal was quiet on his side, punctuated only by questions as he dragged answers from her…if she discounted what was said- what was done- afterwards by both of them.
"Tell me about this previous incident," Bruce said, taking the plate Alfred offered. Alfred had been mercifully quiet after their uncomfortable spat in the car, but had given her a wink as he'd handed her own plate over.
Molly was immediately on guard and pushed the food about on her plate, trying to buy some time. "It was really nothing, Bruce- Gran made too much of it then and you'll make too much of it now."
He was silent, but his eyes spoke volumes and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She detested being made to feel like she was fourteen and sitting in the principal's office. She'd never sat under an authority figure a day in her life, after all. Why should Bruce Wayne make her feel so small now? She straightened her shoulders and looked up at him.
"Fine. I'll tell you about it. But please try to keep in mind that this is my life we're talking about. I'm sorry you've been dragged into all of it-"
"I'm not," he interjected quietly.
"-but you have no right to interrogate me or treat me like I don't know anything."
"I wasn't aware that was what I-"
"Was doing? Of course it's what you're doing. And if you're not aware you're doing it, then that means you never have to apologize for it. Well, I'm calling you out, Bruce. You're an arrogant, chauvinistic man with control issues and Heaven help me, but it hasn't really bothered me until now. Maybe I enjoy the reversal just a little- after taking charge all my life it's nice to relax and know someone else is in control. But this is too far. I'm a grown woman and I won't be treated like a china doll!"
Bruce gave that short, tight smile again, eyebrows raised in surprise as he looked down at his glass of- what was that? Scotch or just apple juice? Molly couldn't tell. She wasn't sure she cared. So the man was an enigma, so what? She'd still called him out. She exhaled slowly and sat back in her chair, keeping her arms and legs uncrossed. She wanted him to know she wasn't afraid of him (even if she was, just a little). He finally looked back up at her and inclined his head.
"That was certainly…honest," he murmured, before lifting his glass and taking a drink. Molly smiled. She'd rattled him a little. Maybe a lot?
"Thanks for acknowledging it."
"But you still haven't said a word about-"
"I was getting to that," she said smoothly. "About three years ago, I was lobbying really hard for one of Dent's friends. He was going to…turn the school system around, starting with law enforcement in our street gangs. I thought it was a place to start- you know, get the criminals off the streets so that the kids can go to school in safety. Even the best kid can go bad if he or she is badgered enough by a recruiter. Anyway, I knew some of the leaders in one of the gangs that was terrorizing our school's neighborhood, so I gave the names to this man, who gave them to Dent." She paused and took a drink of her own, wishing the water in her glass were vodka. That would certainly make the look Bruce was giving her easier to take.
"They found out about it," Bruce supplied and she nodded.
"They found out. A week later my apartment was broken into. Gran wanted me to move back in with her, but then she got a rock through her window…two days after that it was bullets in her siding and she had to have the front door replaced. My apartment was broken into again and this time they left a…present. That was when Commissioner Gordon stepped in. He had police watch put on my block and Gran and Ruth took a vacation for a couple of weeks. It was probably the first time she's ever out of the city against her will, but we were both worried about my sister."
"And what happened while they were gone?"
Molly gave Bruce a sharp look. "Nothing. The miscreants were apprehended and Dent stepped down from the case. He was dead a few months later anyway and after that I didn't hear anything from the gang leaders."
"You weren't accosted?"
"What happened back then is none of your business anyway, Bruce!" Molly exclaimed. "Damn it, of course I was accosted- but nothing happened! Gordon's men stepped in before anything could happen."
"You were bait?" Bruce looked at her incredulously and Molly turned her attention back to her food.
"It was our only option at the time. Street gangs haven't exactly been the Batman's target, after all. I doubt he appreciates the grunt police work that brings in the small time thugs all the time. Besides, the Joker wasn't exactly the kind of thing Gotham PD was having any luck with back then. There are always going to be bigger fish to fry."
Bruce looked as if he wanted very much to say something and downed the last of his drink instead. Molly glanced up from her food and gave him a tired smile.
"Have I answered all your questions now?"
"You don't think that gang has anything to do with this one, do you?"
"Why should they? The case was closed, their trail is safe now- I'm no threat."
"But they know you- you've caused trouble for them before. It's possible that you'll be mentioned if anyone starts asking around about this shooting."
Molly rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her food. "Look, you wanted to know what happened; I told you. Gordon has all the details on the case if you're really interested." She looked at him thoughtfully. "What's your connection to him, anyway?"
Bruce helped himself to another plate of food and tucked in. "He was the attending officer on my parents' murders."
Molly nearly dropped her fork and her eyes widened. "I see. I'm so sorry, Bruce, I didn't mean to bring that up-"
"I know," he replied. "Please, don't worry about it. That was a long time ago."
They were both quiet for several minutes, eating and thinking, before Molly spoke up again.
"It doesn't matter if it's days or years," she murmured. "That sort of thing doesn't leave you. There's a sense of abandonment…God knows plenty of my children have lost one or both parents. It affects the rest of their lives."
Bruce's jaw clenched and he simply nodded. He didn't want to engage in this conversation, not now. There were too many questions involved…like the one she was about to ask.
"Are you…are you okay now? How did you deal with it?"
"I didn't," he said shortly and stood up.
Molly watched him carefully, her attention entirely on him, her face wary. He sighed.
"I know you've just lost a colleague, Molly- I understand that is difficult for you, but please don't try to speak about abandonment and my issues just because your students have experienced some of the same things. It's different when it's personal-"
Molly did drop her fork this time and she continued to stare up at him, bewildered and upset. "I'm sorry, Bruce- I was only trying to-" she stopped short, unsure of what she meant to say.
He watched her flounder for words and sat down again, apologetic and somewhat ashamed. "No, I'm sorry. It's just that Alfred and I…we don't really talk about it. I never really talked about it. I know you were just trying to help."
"That's not it," she replied quietly, retreating into teacher mode. "I don't know what I meant. I wanted to…understand you a little better, I guess." She jumped a little as Alfred walked out to take their plates from them.
"Are you finished, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, looking down at Bruce- not his plate- with accusing eyes. Bruce looked up at him and winced.
"Yes, thank you, Alfred. Molly?" he asked. She nodded and pushed her plate away.
"May I help, Alfred?"
Alfred looked from one to the other and back. He smiled gently. "If you insist, Miss Molly. I'll wash and you can dry. Why don't you take the dishes for me and I'll be right in with the rest of the food."
Molly got up quickly and Bruce put a hand out as if to stop her. "You wanted to know something, too," he began. She shook her head.
"Thanks, Bruce. We can talk about it tomorrow, or Saturday night- I'm pretty tired right now. I think one heavy discussion per day is enough." Then she turned and carried the dishes away. Alfred turned back to Bruce as soon as she'd disappeared into the kitchen and leveled a shrewd look at him.
"What?" Bruce asked.
"I know you apologized already, Sir, but before you go mouthing off to Miss Molly about not understanding things, you might want to remember that she was raised by her grandmother because her parents abandoned her and her sister one after the other when they were just girls."
Bruce paled and clenched his fists. He swore under his breath and Alfred gave him a sharp look. "Yes, well, that sort of language won't do much to make her feel better, I'm certain. You might try ordering flowers, instead."
"I'm sorry, Alfred," Bruce murmured. "I was so unprepared for her to ask about them- I wasn't thinking. She's too close right now, to everything…"
"That is not her fault, Master Bruce. You've done a very good job of dragging her into your life, yourself."
"I know. I apologize. Should I-" he hesitated and gestured at the food. "Should I take these out? Talk to her, you think?"
Alfred smiled and began to pick up the dishes. "I think not, Sir. I'll speak to her. I'd like to get to know Miss Molly, myself, if you don't mind."
Bruce sat back from the table and watched as Alfred cleared the table and then headed into the kitchen. Alfred was right, as usual. He would let the older man speak with her before he said anything, himself. He knew exactly what was wrong with him; he was nervous about how much she knew about him, never mind that his parents' deaths would always be a sore subject. But his nerves had made him react callously and without thinking. And with a woman who was already on her guard around him, how could he hope to undo the effect his behavior had on their tenuous relationship?
When Molly finally emerged from the kitchen, a smile on her face and a chuckling Alfred just behind her, Bruce had taken to the long balcony overlooking the cityscape. The glass doors stood open and he'd turned on the radio so that a soaring orchestral accompaniment spilled out onto the deck along with the bright lights of the penthouse. Molly thanked Alfred and bid him good night before she wandered over to the doors. Her shadow stretched out in front of her onto the tile of the balcony and Bruce turned, acknowledging her presence.
"Molly," he said softly. "Let me apologize for my words earlier. I wasn't thinking clearly."
She didn't respond, but walked across the deck to stand next to him. She looked out over the city and took a deep breath.
"There's nothing to apologize for, Bruce," she said after a few moments. "You weren't prepared to talk about those things with me and I butted my head in where it wasn't welcome. I'm sorry. I guess I just feel as though we ought to get to know one another…and what could be more telling than one's childhood?"
Bruce gave her a small smile. "That much is true. I'm surprised you even need to ask any questions at all, though- you've been reading me since the moment we met."
She eyed him and leaned against the railing. "And you haven't been doing the same thing to me?" she asked wryly.
"True enough. I'd drink to that if I had a glass in my hand."
"Hmph," was all she said to that and he graced her with his smile again.
"Your grandmother is quite a character," he offered, trying to steer their conversation to safer topics.
"Neither of us really want to talk about my Gran, do we?"
He set his jaw and gave in. He knew he wouldn't be able to put her off forever. "No, you're right. What did you want to know?"
She stood up straight and gestured towards the cityscape. "What does my little street gang fiasco have to do with all of this?"
Bruce gazed out again and placed his hands on the railing before him. "I shouldn't say anything."
"I have a right to know. You promised."
"And I thought we just agreed earlier to keep it until Saturday evening."
She laughed. "Don't you know anything about women? That was my way of trying to keep the peace. It didn't mean I was actually happy to wait. Besides, you know all about me, now, and I still know hardly anything about you-"
"I imagine Alfred enlightened you to quite a bit."
She sighed and ran her hand over her short locks. Bruce admired the way it was beginning to curl about her ears and he almost caught himself reaching out a hand to tuck a strand out of her face. He shook himself slightly and turned away. Molly eyed him askance and looked down at their hands. They were so close to one another, but it felt as if he were miles away- miles put between them on purpose. And after he'd kissed her so well the night before. She sighed again.
"He said a little. But he's hardly the sort of man to disclose all your secrets without your knowledge. My grandmother, on the other hand…"
"She said something about your hair, about getting you to grow it out again," Bruce interrupted her. It was like speaking with the older woman; he couldn't help himself. Every chance he had to ask about Molly, he'd taken. And just watching her run her hands through the soft, downy cap of snowy blonde hair had set his fingers itching to touch it himself. It made her seem so delicate... He turned to her with an apologetic smile on his face for interrupting her again only to find her staring off moodily this time.
"What about it?" she asked.
"Why did you cut it? It seemed important to her."
"I think you were right," she began. "I think we should wait until Saturday night to discuss things, as you seem determined to put me off every time I ask."
She turned to go and Bruce reached out and grabbed her arm. The position was so similar to last night's in the kitchen that Molly felt herself leaning towards him without thinking. His hand went up to her hair and he stroked it slowly, softly. Her eyes widened at the movement and she came out of the moment with alarm, jerking away from him. He stared at her, confused, concerned and she frowned.
"You want to know why I cut my hair?"
He nodded once, but it was accompanied by the start of an apology and she laughed shortly.
"Would you like the honest answer or the, 'I'm a woman and I felt like it,' answer?"
"Molly, I'm being a boor. You don't have to explain anything to me-"
"No, I should, I suppose. It's better if you know how your new girlfriend operates, isn't it?"
"Molly-"
She stared at him, proud, but fearful, shoulders thrown back and he stepped forward, wishing he could just take her in his arms and undo the last five minutes. Kiss them away. Kiss away the last twenty years, even. That would be a good start. Their eyes locked and she gave a strange little smile.
"It's harder for a man to grab hold of short hair," she said simply.
Then she turned and walked back through doors. Bruce watched her go, emotions ranging across his face as he processed what she'd said. He stayed where he was even after he realized what it meant, watching her pick up her satchel and cross the living room to enter her bedroom. Only when the door shut, granting her some privacy, did he move back inside as well. She'd given him a lot to consider, never mind all the work the Batman had to do that night. Still, he somehow had a feeling that even in his rage induced crime fighting, all of Batman's thoughts would be on one beautiful woman…the only one that he couldn't help. The only one that didn't want his help.
He waited until Alfred informed him that the light in Miss Molly's room was out and then he began to prepare for his evening's jaunt. He was just walking across the living space to check on one of his secret supply closets when the door to Molly's room opened and she poked her head out. Bruce froze in his tracks. He wasn't wearing anything but his boxers, anticipating suiting up soon, and he hand was hovering right above the hinged key pad for the closet.
"Bruce?" she asked as she saw his tall figure pause next to what appeared to be a blank wall. "What are you doing?"
He turned slowly and saw her eyeing him from her doorway, a few yards away. He eased a smile onto his face and shifted position so that he was leaning against the wall.
"I might ask you the same thing," he replied, eyeing Molly's sleepwear. Gone was the ragged set of yoga pants and t-shirt. In their place were a lacy camisole and panties. He suddenly realized that although her light may have been out, she had probably still been in the process of getting ready for bed. Maybe even sitting up in bed, grading, her day's clothes discarded, but too tired to get into her proper pajamas. He felt a smile cross his face at the thought and knew he was two steps away from lecherous, especially after what she'd said to him earlier.
Her eyes, however, were no less fascinated with what they saw. She'd taken in the hard, muscled line of his body without even realizing it at first and when she did, she blushed and began to look everywhere but straight ahead.
"This is…awkward," Bruce murmured. Molly bit her lip and looked as though she wanted to laugh. "Do you need something?" he asked her, gesturing towards the kitchen.
She bit her lip harder and eyed him. "I- well, I was just…I heard a noise and thought I would see what it was," she finished, blush high along her cheeks now.
Bruce willed himself to stay put, but his feet began moving of their own accord. At least, that's what he told himself later on. At the time it happened, he wasn't aware what he was doing until Molly made a small noise of alarm and tried to retreat back into the bedroom.
"Bruce?" she asked again, looking up at him as he advanced on her.
He stopped only when he was standing right in front of her. "There is a robe hanging in your bathroom, I believe," he responded softly.
"Why would I need-" she began, but stopped abruptly as she realized what he meant. She looked down at herself and paled before flushing again and folding her arms in front of her chest.
Bruce leaned against the wall again and continued to eye her. He needed to get back to business, he knew that, but Molly standing in front of him that way was too tempting; and he was still bothered by what she'd said earlier. Molly looked up at him and watched the expression on his face change. She was tempted to take another step back, but didn't. He didn't intimidate her, after all. Who was he? Just a billionaire with secrets…who liked her. And kissed really well.
"What?" she bristled at him, her tone a little impatient.
Bruce smiled softly. "Are you okay?" he asked her.
She knew what he meant immediately and nodded slowly. "I'm fine, Bruce. All those things…they happened a long time ago."
"I'm not talking about the gangs," he began, but she cut him off.
"I know that. We've covered the whole, 'Molly's not an idiot,' thing, haven't we?" she replied, her answering smile rueful.
He was quiet for a few moments, but he continued to look at her seriously. A hand reached out and he smoothed a few strands behind her ear before he spoke again. She let him, not breaking eye contact with him, looking at him just as seriously, though a smile was on her face.
"You're okay."
"I am," she confirmed again.
"So you won't mind if I kiss you again," he murmured, moving even closer.
"Bruce," she replied, "I may have ethical considerations against it and you might be the most infuriating man I've ever met, but I'm hardly going to stop you from doing that-"
Her voice was cut off as his lips closed over hers and he gently took her by the shoulders, carefully holding her away from him. He was afraid that if he did much more than kiss her in their half-clothed state that he would end up hurting her, somehow. He wasn't sure how, exactly, but his brain also hadn't moved much beyond the thought of kissing her again. He plied her lips tenderly and felt her arms coming uncrossed; her hands came to rest on his chest and she leaned into him, despite his efforts to keep her a safe distance from him.
She seemed to realize what she was doing and her fingers curled over, sending a shiver up his spine. His hands crept from her shoulders to her back and she suddenly found herself pressed against him, cradled in his strong arms while he continued to ravage her mouth- his ministrations growing more desperate the longer they stood there.
Molly finally turned her head, breaking the kiss and he pressed his mouth to her forehead, his hands not relinquishing their grip on her.
"…I probably should stop you, though," she breathed and heard him laugh, felt it rumble in chest. His bare chest, which she was pressed against quite firmly.
"I doubt you could," he murmured into her hair and his fingers made gentle circles on her back. She shivered.
"I was just- I should go to bed now," she said, lifting her head from his shoulder, pulling her hands away from him. He looked as if he might protest, but instead nodded with resignation and let her go. He leaned an arm on her doorframe and gazed at her as she walked back inside.
"That wasn't an invitation, was it, Molly?" he called after her softly.
She turned, her brows raised in surprise, and shook her head. "No, Bruce, it wasn't. Someday-" she paused and started to lift a hand towards him before she stopped and shook her head again. "No. Good night, Bruce. Don't stay up too late."
She shut the door and he stood there a moment longer until he heard her light click off again and the tell-tale rustle of bedclothes. With an inaudible sigh, he leaned back against the wall and covered his eyes briefly. So, it seemed kissing her was a good way to distract her. Well, that was fine. Kissing her was something he liked doing. The only problem was that he would have liked to do other things as well, and Batman didn't need those sorts of distractions foremost in his mind when he was on the job. He straightened up and looked at the closed door, wishing he could just explain everything to her then, keep it out in the open, show some honesty in the relationship. Was she the type of woman who would be upset he hadn't told her sooner?
He shook his head. Where had that thought come from? He was already assuming she wanted to be with him, too. Well, just because a woman kissed you back didn't mean she wanted a relationship. He ran a hand through his hair and heard a foot fall behind him.
"Master Bruce?" Alfred's voice filtered out of the hallway.
He turned and waved at the older man. "I'm here."
Alfred eyed his proximity to Molly's door and gave him and interested look. "That is not the supply closet, Master Bruce," he said.
Bruce furrowed his brow and began to move back towards his own room. "I'm well aware of that, Alfred. Very well aware."
AN: Yay! Another chapter! Soon we will introduce the head ugly man in charge, wheee!
