Disclaimer

The characters of this story are the property of DC comics and Warner Bros. I have used them in the story which is entirely a product of my own imagination.

Chap 2

Dec 20th : 9:00 AM

"You really must wake up now, Master Bruce! You are due to the art gallery in an hour." Alfred shook him by his shoulder.

Bruce opened his eyes. They were red, as usual, due to the lack of sleep. Although he had few extra hours to sleep, he couldn't make the best use of them. All night, he was going through the episode again and again in his mind, speculating his words and actions. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so harsh to her.

Alfred prepared his bath, but he preferred taking a shower to cool his mind off. Even at the breakfast table, he wasn't himself. He was still lost in thought. He wondered why he was considering it so much. It is not really new for him to hurt someone's feelings as Batman and regret it in the morning. It stings the most when he opens his eyes from the little sleep he gets. But then, as the day passes, he convinces himself that whatever he had done, it was to the best interest of the other. And then the night falls and things are back to square one. He explains his emotional conflict as the manifestation of his dual personality, in which Batman is the dominant and Bruce Wayne gets his say the first thing in the morning. Normally he would have expected to get over the feeling after the shower. But the pain lingered.

"Your morning news paper, sir!" Alfred said, handing him the paper, "I'd rather prefer to have butter with bread than with the spoon." Bruce, who was till then trying in vain to chew the spoon, came back to senses.

"I see you had an eventful night", Tim said, spreading peanut butter over his bread, "Do we have a new inmate?" Bruce frowned. Tim gestured him to look into the paper. The big heading on the first page read "BATMAN AND WONDER WOMAN!" His eyes widened, and he quickly turned to other pages. It was all over the news paper, so much that they had even pushed the mayor's address to the citizens to page 2. The headings varied from page to page, the first ones concerning their partnership, later page 3 gossip about prospective "relationship" and finally fan column with fervent discussion about who'd make a better pair with wonder woman, Superman or Batman. This was not the kind of start to the day he was looking for. He cursed Superman, and then realised Tim was at the table, and bit his tongue.

"So, are we talking about anything here?" Tim raised his eye brows.

"Sham!" Bruce shouted, hit the news paper against the table, "she doesn't know how to behave in this world! How can anyone be so stupid?"

"Master Bruce, I'm afraid you're not setting a good example for the kid." Alfred tried to calm him, "and however, you are not to take these things seriously. Now hurry up, or you'll be late!"

Bruce didn't speak. He silently got up and picked his coat. He gestured Tim to follow him. Tim, who really didn't want to mess up with his guardian's mood anymore, did so, quietly. The car started off for the art gallery.

It was Wayne foundation's annual art exhibition. The money raised would be used for the children's hospital and the old age home. On the first day, everyone from aspiring artists to revered professionals sketch portraits of the viewers and sell it to them. There was a festive mood all around the art gallery, and everyone was waiting for their patron, Mr. Bruce Wayne, to kick start the event.

Bruce arrived there at 10 AM sharp. The gathering seemed to lighten up his mood a bit. After a short speech regarding the history of the event, he the names of his parents with an air brush, thus marking the commencement of the event. Bruce was an artist too, but he wasn't much into portrait art. He thought one needed the right kind of inspiration to add soul to a person's portrait, without which it was just another piece of paint on canvas. However he humoured his audience, once every year. His models would mostly be young women of high society who were more interested in dating him being in his picture. He thought they were the right choice, as they wouldn't complain, and he, in his own ways, could make fun of their intents.

But this time, he didn't seem interested. He walked around the gallery, examining the exhibits and works of the artists. It was close to noon. Usually he would stay till the evening, but today, he wanted to leave. He still couldn't get his mind off the last night's incident and the news paper reports. He even heard some people gossip about it in the gallery and one gentleman even asked him for an opinion. It was getting harder and harder for him. He began to leave, but was blocked by a beautiful young woman, walking confused with a card in her hand. She came to him to seek help.

"Excuse me, sir! Are you an artist?" she asked politely.

"Well, yes! But I am not sketching today." He answered. She didn't look familiar, probably new to the city.

"Oh no!" She sighed, disappointedly, "you are the only one left out here who is not busy. I had one of the best artists here draw my picture, but it just wasn't right. I am ready to pay, but I had great expectations from this place. Seems like I have to go home disappointed."

That hurt him. He realised, he was not just an artist, but a patron of this event. He took it upon him to keep up the good will.

"All right, miss..."

"Lisa." She said.

"Miss Lisa! Such a wonderful name! Please come over with me. You need not pay till you are satisfied. Give me a chance." He took her to the nearby vacant chair and canvas. She was incredibly beautiful, but there was more to her than just beauty. Bruce felt that he had found his inspiration.

The next half hour, Bruce spent in making what can be called "life-like portrait". He found himself more indulged than involved in his work. As he began to closely examine her features, he was filled in praise for the lady, who was a perfect symmetry in herself, an artist's dream. He wondered who the other artist who couldn't portray her was. "He must've been an amateur," he said to himself, "what a pity!"

The portrait was done. As soon as the gathering realised that Bruce was making a portrait, they gathered around him to see who the lucky girl was. All through his painting, they made remarks about Bruce's skill and insidious remarks about Lisa's luck, but nothing shook his concentration. He was completely enjoying what he was doing. Once the painting was done, there was a huge sound of applause which brought him back to the world.

Lisa came around to watch the work. She was spellbound.

"Awesome! I have no words to describe. I suppose you are the renowned British artist, the special guest!" she said with twinkle in her eye.

"Well hardly!" Bruce said, brushing off her praise modestly. "HE is the British artist you are talking about", he said, pointing to an elderly person standing in the gathering around them.

Lisa shook his hand. "I don't believe it!" she said.

"This lady did not like my work, Mr. Wayne! I did feel insulted, but seeing your work, I think she is truly justified." He congratulated Bruce with open heart.

"Well no one can paint beautiful girls better than Bruce!" someone shouted from the crowd and everyone laughed. Bruce blushed.

"Oh, so you are the Bruce Wayne! I've heard a lot about you," she said. The reverence she had in her eyes till then disappeared. Rest assured, she did not hear much good about Bruce. "Here is your $200. Thank you so much!" He extended his hand for a shake, but she chose not to. She took the portrait and left. Bruce did not understand what to think of such a gesture. He felt humiliated. There were murmurs of dissent all over the place regarding her behaviour, but to Bruce, his exhilaration vaporised in seconds. For the first time, he began to consider the reputation he had built up over time. All the good he has done was gone into the ash-can because of his "lady's man" reputation. His heart felt heavy, he was afraid he was going to cry. A few pretty girls tried to capture his attention, but no one really knew or bothered to know how he felt. Once again, it is not a very uncommon occurrence, and didn't bother him much. As usual, he would justify to himself how important it is for Bruce Wayne to act this way.

But this time, his mind wouldn't listen to him, or he wouldn't listen to his mind. It was already twice in a day that he had to question his way of life. Is it just a coincidence?

to be continued