Author's Note: Incomplete but felt like publishing what I have so far. The remainder, i.e. Jason's date with Maddie, will be published sometime next week and will consist of additional 2,000 words to this chapter. Enjoy.
Happy Endings
I wake up the next morning feeling too sore and beat-up to even try moving. I peel my face off the pillow and make a play for getting up onto an elbow. My shoulder groans with the effort but manages to hold steady. There's a timely knock at my door followed by the sight of Al letting himself in, a tray of assorted goodies already in hand. He looks at me and sighs.
"I am to take it you lost the fight, Master Jason? You didn't appear for dinner last night, a practice I have seldom heard of from a young man with an appetite as ravenous as you." He says wandering close to the bedside table to set down the tray. I wince in wiping a hand down my face.
"Didn't he tell you what happened?" I ask.
"It was very odd at dinner last night, Sir. Master Bruce proved even more uncommunicative than usual, meaning he was mute. He mentioned nothing of the fight, but his appearance implied he took little to no damage. Take these, Sir and press the ice-pack against your eye. Breakfast will be served in one hour, a meal I expect you to show up to. Would you care to explain what transpired?" He says handing me some pink pills and the ice-pack. I swallow the pills and then press the pack against my face with the same hand. I'm not in the mood to move.
"The short story is I won. The counter argument is I cheated to do so. He doesn't think I deserve his company today because in his mind, I cheated." The old man raises an eyebrow at me.
"Did you?"
"Of course I did. I'm banged-up and nowhere near healed enough to go toe-to-toe with him so I had to cheat if I wanted to win."
"And how did you accomplish this feat?"
"I went down to a phantom punch, after falling behind on the score cards in the first two rounds, near to the end of the time limit in the final round. He came in close to check I was alright and I nailed him with four good shots before he could counter. The bell sounded and I won by a single point overall."
"Yes, that does sound like a very underhanded tactic in a fight you wanted to engage in."
"Yeah, because I'm gonna go ahead and rely on fair sportsmanship to win dates with girls. Pretty simple stuff, Al, I wanted to go out with Maddie. I wanted the date to be perfect and, in order for that to be a reality, I needed the car to be perfect too and for that, I need Bruce to help me. So I did what I had to, to make sure that was the outcome."
"And your absence from dinner?"
"After the fight I felt like I'd been repeatedly hit by a train for nine minutes. I needed to go lie down." Al sits down next to me, placing a hand on my back and one on my sternum to gently rotate me onto my back. Then he helps me sit up and begins to examine my upper body and face for fresh bruises. I make 'ow' noises all the way through the movement.
"I see. Well, in future, Master Jason, I would advise you against placing foolhardy bets on the outcome of a contest you must cheat to win at. You seem to have protected your face quite well; there's very little swelling of any sort except for what was already present." He replies before a prod on my ribs yields a stifled cry, "But I'm afraid you are now in possession of some very bruised ribs." I smirk.
"So what else is new? Haven't broken anything though, right?" Al gives me a sigh, relieving me of my ice-pack and placing it firmly against my aching ribs. The cold feels sooo good right now.
"Fortunately it would appear Master Bruce's punches were meant to sting, not to break." What's that, Al?
"Are you saying he held back?"
"It is more than likely, Sir, otherwise the chances are you would be confined to bed for the foreseeable future, not the next few hours. I will give you something for the pain, but do not exert yourself too much in its temporary absence. Understand?" He checks taking my hand and replacing his with it on the ice-pack. I grin at him.
"Yes, Mom."
"Do not call me that. I would never wish such a burden on anyone, least of all myself." Al doesn't want to be my mommy, but he is. He's Bruce's mommy as well. And both of us are lucky to have such a strong, maternal figure to look up to and be inspired by. Al knows that. If the job weren't so stressful, he'd probably be proud of the title, but it is THAT stressful. Anybody else would've lost their mind years ago in the same position, but Al just soldiers on. Have to admire him for that; god knows I couldn't do it. "I imagine you plan to spend the next few hours trying to convince him to honour a bet he has every right to refuse?"
"I don't know why you didn't take up a career as a mind-reading quack, Al; you would've made big bucks with your act." He narrows his eyes at me and smiles.
"While I appreciate your confidence, Sir, I do fear that, were I to pursue such a glamorous profession, not everybody's minds would prove as easy to read as yours and Master Bruce's." Oh yes, Al is in a fun mood this morning; he'll play with me. I feed him the necessary line.
"You saying I've got a one-track mind, Al?" The old man's eyes light up and he raises an eyebrow.
"Shall we test it? I'm going to read your mind, Sir, tell me if I'm right." He closes his hands round the outside of my head and wiggles his fingers in the most mystic way you can before humming loudly. "Yes, the voices are speaking to me, Sir…" He tells me with absolute conviction, "They are telling me you…you are thinking of someone whose first name begins with an M. Does that mean anything to you? Maybe a girl, yes definitely a girl, perhaps a Marjorie…Maleficent…Mallory…Maddie…"
"Yes! I DO know a girl called Maddie! What else can you tell me?" I say feigning astonishment. Al shakes his head, acting like he's struggling against some invisible force.
"It's a little unclear, Sir, I think the voices are saying, yes, they're telling me she's out of your league…" I shove him playfully, using as little strength as possible to avoid actually hurting him. He takes it in good spirits.
"That's the method mediums use to 'communicate' with dead people, Al, not read people's minds." I point out, sensing I've left the door open for a witty retort.
"Well I am communicating with a dead stupid person after all, Master Jason. It seemed appropriate." Yeah, there it is, wit in its highest form…coming out of Al's mouth. I take it like a man and smile in appreciation at the genius of such a line. I'll forgo the sarcastic clapping until my ribs stop yelling at me.
"Do you think he'll bite, Al?" I inquire seriously about Bruce. Al puts a supportive hand on my shoulder.
"I'm certain you will try your best to make him, Sir. All I can say is good luck in your efforts."
I come across the big man in the library some thirty minutes later. Instead of my usual peep show – just my boxers – I'm wearing all the necessary clothes for polite society; shirt, slacks and sneakers with the whole ensemble tied together by a charming dark red sweater I absolutely hate. Hopefully he notices how uncomfortable I am wearing this crud and gets some satisfaction. He's dressed too…for work. Today he's sporting a dark suit, white shirt and blue tie with Italian loafers and a silver Rolex watch. He looks like a businessman today and a very serious, uptight one at that. Somehow I think he's decided to go to work instead of hang out with me. Still, I might as well try…
"So, you ready to drive me down to the DMV?" I say with a smile I try to make look hopeful. He closes the book he was reading and regards me with a withering stare. He's really not in the mood for me today. "You're not seriously pissed at me, are you, big guy?"
"I'm surprised you've found the courage to show your face after hiding in your room yesterday evening." He sounds bitter. I shrug my shoulders.
"And I'm surprised you held back yesterday evening. Why'd you pull your punches?"
"I did not want to injure you given that your first date in over two years was only three days away, regardless of the outcome. It would be a little unfair. Despite my conduct you still felt the need to taint the competition."
"What can I say? People wanting to get into a girl's panties do stupid things." Bruce glares at me.
"Is that all this is about?"
"No, of course not. I just really wanted you to stay and help me. But it looks like you've made up your mind already."
"Yes, I have." His eyes move away from me as he turns to face the portrait of his parents hanging over the fireplace. He emits a prolonged and deep sigh at the painting before casting his eyes back on me. "Today is my father's birthday. He would've been sixty-two today if he had lived. After next year, I will have seen more birthdays than he did. He never got to see me pass the many milestones of my youth, including receipt of my driver's licence. Yours is a similar story; your father never got to witness the milestones of your youth. I consider it something of a privilege to bear witness to such important moments in your life, just as I did with Dick. It is therefore only for that reason I will take you to get your licence." That's the long-ass way of saying 'yes'. Another victory for the second child. I can't help but grin at him.
"Fine with me."
The ride over to the DMV seems to take seconds. Bruce's driving style makes it quick; the man controls my Spyder like it's a freaking go-cart, virtually playing with it as he rounds tight bends and navigates tricky hills at full throttle. I'm not scared for a minute by any of it; he's barely gone above ninety during the whole trip, a speed I consider the bottom end of slow. And suddenly we're outside the building and ready to go in. The big guy's hair isn't even slightly windswept by the journey as he strides over to the front door; I do my best to salvage my crazy hair in the meantime.
I get some funny looks as I go to the counter, but the bulk of the attention goes to Bruce as he walks alongside me. He's probably never set foot in a place like this before in his whole life. Everyone responds to his presence like he's some kind of alien life form. A muted silence falls over the room. People are on their cells moments later, probably to tell their grandmas about seeing Bruce Wayne in the flesh, sycophants. I don't care about the big man upstaging me; I just want my licence, nothing else. When they hand it to me I feel like I'm finally moving forward with my life. We leave shortly after and Bruce positions himself in the passenger seat of my car for the ride home. I slot myself behind the wheel like I've done so many times before, but it feels like the first time again. I've got goose bumps all over.
"Jason? Are you okay?" The big guy asks me when I've been quiet too long for his tastes. I put my hands on the steering wheel before nodding.
"Yeah, I think I am."
Bruce says nothing on the ride back. He doesn't tell me where to put my hands, to watch my road position or informs me I'm going too fast or am in the wrong gear; he just watches me. And, for the first time, it doesn't feel like he's scrutinising me or grading my performance. Whenever I glance over in his direction, I can see this small smirk on his face, but it doesn't offer condescension or amusement like usual…
It almost looks like pride. And I get goose bumps again.
When we pull up in the driveway, right outside the front door, I kill the engine. Bruce isn't looking at me anymore. The big guy is gazing around the grounds and nodding to himself. I sit still and wait for him to say something. Then he gets out of the car without saying anything and keeping his back to me. I start to feel like maybe I've done something wrong to provoke this reaction, but can't figure out what I could've done so badly to deserve this behaviour. I get out the car too.
"Bruce? Is something wrong?" I ask genuinely concerned I've run a red light or pulled out too early at a junction or something and he's noticed. I'm already starting to retrace the journey back in minute detail, looking for the error, when I draw level with him at the front door. The big man turns to face me and looks unusually perplexed by something, the same expression he adopts when an investigation throws up a dead-end. But he's looking at me with that expression, like I'm somehow confusing or illogical.
"Nothing is wrong, Jason. You are a very competent driver and I am impressed at your temperament on the road. I apologize if I made you anxious just now. You violated no traffic laws on the return journey; again I was impressed with your restraint. If there's nothing else, please excuse me. I have a meeting to attend to at Wayne Enterprises." He responds before briefly squeezing my shoulder, "I am very proud of you…Son." He turns and disappears inside without another word, leaving me standing there completely numb. He called me son. He actually called me son. I don't fucking believe he actually called me his son. Holy shit I feel good right now, stunned into silence, but really, really good. I get back in Little Brat and swing it round to the garage.
It's close to six in the afternoon. I've spent most of the day sweating my ass off in the workshop, cosmetically altering Brat to my own specifications to pick up Maddie tomorrow night. So far, I've managed the radio fit, windscreen, tyres and am applying the third coat of paint. My ribs are aching worse than this morning and my whole body has been telling me it doesn't want to play for the last two hours, but I make it push on. After a while though, I have to sit down and take a seat on the floor with my back slumped against the wall behind me. I hear the Rolls pull up in the garage next door a few minutes later. I don't move at all. The car is now cherry red and needs a decent coat of wax, but I'd say it's almost finished. A whole day to do this? Get real Bruce, try less than six hours. I really wish he could've helped me on this one, but I'm not mad at him for not staying home. I can't believe he called me son. I know I keep saying it, but wow. One word is all it takes to completely change your perspective on something you thought was set in stone. I'm still getting goose bumps from thinking about it. After about thirty minutes of resting, I manage to haul my ass back up and go for the wax in the corner.
"He's looking good." I hear Bruce say from the doorway. I nod my head whilst unscrewing the lid on the tin. Yeah, my car is a guy, not a girl. As if anything this powerful or fast could ever be called 'she'. Bruce can call the bat mobile 'she' if he likes, but we both know deep down that it's a guy too. Still, it's nice that he knows that about Brat.
"I just need to put a few coats of wax on and he'll be ready to hit the town." I say positioning myself in front of the bonnet with an applicator pad and the newly opened Turtle Wax.
"Well, you can do that later. Alfred will start serving dinner in thirty minutes and has informed me you haven't eaten all day." I catch the big man move from the doorway in my peripheral vision as I begin to apply the wax.
"I'll just have it later. I want to get this done as soon as possible."
"I'm certain Miss Prince isn't skipping meals in her build-up to this date." I hear him say from behind me. He must be a foot away. I smirk.
"She's probably not going crazy over everything being perfect either, but then she doesn't need to impress me."
"But you need to impress her, I take it?"
"Uh, as a billionaire's ward I think that's a given. She'll be expecting something big."
"It is not possible that you've already impressed her, Jason?"
"I don't see how. I met her in a train station after she thought I was a rent boy or beggar, then had a coffee with her in some greasy-spoon joint nearby, looking like a victim of domestic abuse and a fashion victim."
"And despite all that, she still agreed to a date with you. Does that not say something about her liking you for your personality rather than your wealth?"
I stop buffing the bodywork and consider. I kind of forgot that little point. I really did impress her using just conversation. She liked me enough to give me a shot on a date, even though I looked like shit and moved like an arthritic coffin dodger for most of the night. I suppose I really don't have to rely on Bruce's money to sustain a girl's interest. I feel stupid now for obsessing over it all so much. I wanted everything to be perfect for this date, but it wouldn't really matter if it ran with the efficiency of a Swiss watch because Maddie would still only like me if I were myself and not pretending to be better than I am. Jeez, what a bad time for an epiphany. I just worked myself into the ground for the better part of two days only to realise it's all largely pointless window dressing. I laugh briefly at my own stupidity before nodding.
"Yeah, it does." I say turning to face him. Bruce is still wearing the Armani suit but has swapped his blue tie for a more muted green and his Rolex for a leather-strapped variant. I don't know why he bothered; the other tie and watch were fine for work. "I guess I can take a break for dinner." Bruce nods in satisfaction at my choice.
"Good man. So, wash-up and I'll see you around six-thirty."
I don't normally like dining with Bruce. The air is dry and devoid of real or interesting conversation and most of the meal passes in awkward silence. This time is actually okay. After Al supplies some more painkillers and Bruce asks me how I've planned tomorrow night, dinner starts to fly by. When dessert arrives, I barely notice because I'm so engrossed in the conversation. This is a good thing and I'm happy he persuaded me to join him. Once it's over, Bruce offers to help me wax the car for an hour before heading out on patrol. Again I'm happy he wants to get involved in it all; it really does make a difference to the normal script between us. We manage two coats between us and I've decided that it doesn't really need another one. It took a long time to decide, enough for Bruce to swan off to the cave and tool up, but I took the big guy's advice about being too finicky and left it alone. After leaving Brat in the garage and closing up the workshop, I took a shower and went straight to bed to try and recover as much as possible for tomorrow's big set piece. I don't dream of anything but the Rainbow Vale and happy endings in old movies.
I wake up without any prompting and feel refreshed from the eleven or so hours I spent comatose. I shower to wake myself up properly and then study my reflection for a few minutes. The swelling on my cheek is virtually gone, my split lip is almost healed and my shiner's faded to almost nothing. It's impressive for three days and I have to smile about my good luck. Even though my fitness levels mean bruises never last longer than a week, it's still a good result. If I combed my hair, I could probably go on a date right now, in just my underwear. Not going to happen, but pretty satisfying to know I could if I was in the mood. I wonder how Maddie would feel about that…She'd think it was funny I'll bet. I manage to get dressed without my ribs flaring up and head downstairs.
I find Al in the middle of polishing the silverware ornaments in the lounge, meaning it's shortly after nine in the morning. The old man looks up at me from this cleaning and smiles genially. "Good morning, Master Jason. How are you feeling today, young man?"
"I feel okay for the most part, Al. Bruce gone to the office I take it?" I say taking a few steps towards him. Al sighs lethargically.
"Where else? He wanted me to pass on his hopes that your date with Miss Prince goes smoothly this evening."
"I see. Did he really say that or are you just covering for him?"
"Oh no, Sir, he was very insistent I pass on his sentiments before leaving this morning. It would appear Master Bruce is hoping this meeting tonight will be the start of a wonderful relationship for you and Miss Prince. I must admit I feel the same way." I have to roll my eyes, just because I'm a teenager and these sort of overbearing statements naturally disgust me.
"Sounds like he wants to marry us off."
"Not quite yet, perhaps by your third date he will expect an invitation to the engagement party." I smirk at him.
"So will I, Al. Hopefully she'll invite me."
"Well, one can hope such charity can be found I suppose."
"Corny jokes aside, Al, do you think I can get to a third date with her?"
"You seem to keep forgetting that I have never met the lady in question and therefore have no reason to vote either one way or other. I will say that from what you have told myself and Master Bruce that she is very friendly and you are very taken with her. I expect you will try your best to secure another date with her in the future and that is all you can really do."