A/N I apologize for the shortness and tardiness (but only one day!) of this chapter. However, I shall try to have a longer one up by Saturday, which fills in some of the holes left by this one.
Thanks, as always, to all reviewers! I'm not able to reply to reviews at the moment, because I don't yet have Internet in my new apartment (thanks all of you who asked, my move went very well!) and have to depend on the public library which closes in one hour, but hopefully I'll get caught up with those sometimes this week.
Ok, no one has yet figured out the very long, very famous, very old English poem from which I'm borrowing a bit of plot. I'm not surprised—it was very hard to pick out in the last chapter, and I doubt I could have done it myself. However, the borrowing continues in this chapter, and will conclude in the next one, so keep thinking! And maybe go out and read a few old and famous English poems! As promised, I am giving you a clue which is: Green. Remember you must tell me both the title of the poem and the part of the plot I'm borrowing to win.
Chapter 13
My fingers are distracting me!
-Philippa's Brother
Richard and Alfred sat together at the table in the small kitchen, eating dinner. Years ago, the boy had persuaded the butler to eat with him when Bruce was absent, and they had some of their best conversations over full plates. Tonight, the strained atmosphere of the last few days had all but disappeared, as Richard related Johnny Zorello's spectacular spaghetti fiasco.
"And how did you enjoy your party last night?" Alfred asked.
Richard hesitated. He had told Alfred that he'd been invited to a birthday party and let the old man assume it was school related, but now, for a moment, the truth weighted down the tip of his tongue, ready to spring into the open. He hated keeping secrets from Alfred.
But then the butler reached into his pocket and produced a vibrating pda?, the astonishingly tiny machine that kept him connected to the entire Manor. After glancing at the screen he announced, "Master Wayne is home."
His almost spoken words dissolved into nothing, and Rick focused on cutting his steak, some of his easy relaxation slipping away. He wasn't naïve enough to think that because things felt back to normal with Alfred it meant they would be fine with Bruce too.
But a minute later, when they heard the distant slam of the side door to the garage, it was accompanied by whistling that became louder as it approached the kitchen. Richard and Alfred exchanged surprised glances, before the older man's face faded into his usual reserve. Rick dropped his gaze back to his plate, gritting his teeth in silent frustration.
"It's good to be home," Bruce announced, striding into the kitchen and snagging a plate on his way to the table. "There's always something a little off about hotel food." He reached for the corn, pausing to swipe at Richard's styled hair.
"Hey!" the boy snapped, batting the hand away. "Mess up your own hair for once, would you?"
"But that's no fun," Bruce explained as he filled his plate. "How was school?"
"Pretty good. I've started tutoring this girl in math."
Bruce looked pleased. "Hey, that's great! What's her name?"
"Carmen Leo. She said she'd go to the Valentines dance with me. As friends," he added hastily.
"Carmen Leo," Alfred repeated thoughtfully. "That's Matthew Fredrick's granddaughter, isn't it?" He and Bruce exchanged a glance that Richard didn't understand. "She's been living with them since her parents' divorce, which occurred while you were away, sir."
Bruce nodded and let the subject drop. "How was the birthday party?"
"Fine," Rick answered too quickly, startled that Bruce had remembered. "And how was the casino?" he asked, to divert the sudden sharp look in his guardian's eyes.
Bruce shrugged. "Average. Luthor told me he might destroy me in order to take over Gotham. But I have a Jacuzzi in my room."
Rick noticed that Alfred was not turning on Bruce the same sharp look Bruce had just used on Rick. Bruce's expression remained bland as he cut into his meat. "Was there something you wanted to ask me, Alfred?"
Alfred looked as though he were about to speak, but the jangle of the telephone interrupted him, and he rose to answer it. "Wayne Manor." He listened to the receiver for a moment and then looked at Richard. "Miss Gordon for you, Master Richard. Shall I ask her to call back after dinner?"
"Uh … Barbara Gordon?" Rick asked, not certain he'd heard right.
"The same."
"I'll take it now." He stood up too hastily, causing his chair to teeter dangerously, and grabbed the phone. "Hey."
"Rick, I need a favor," she said, in a low voice he could barely hear over the receiver.
"What's up?" he asked, restraining his impulse to promise her she could have anything she wanted.
"Could we work on the project at your house tomorrow afternoon?"
"Here tomorrow? Sure."
"Great. I'll see you at two." She hung up before he could respond.
Rick replaced the phone on its base and disciplined his grin before resuming his seat at the table.
Bruce looked at him curiously. "What did she want?"
"Yeah. She's coming over tomorrow so we can work on a group project." Rick did his best to convey the impression that it was absolutely no big deal. "She'll probably have her police tails with her."
"I'll inform the garage," Alfred promised.
"I hope she's not coming over too early," Bruce put in. "Because we're going out tonight."
Rick's face lit up—after last week's fiasco he had more than half expected that Robin would be indefinitely grounded, although he had patched his suit anyway, just in case. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. And you'll need a heavy jacket. It gets cold in the desert at night."
Rick's expression melted into confusion. "Where are we going?"
"New Mexico." Bruce pushed back his chair and stood. "And hurry up. We're supposed to meet Fox at the company airport in forty-five minutes."
Three hours and forty-five minutes later, their small plane touched down on a tiny runway in the middle of the Mojave.
"Now will you tell me what we're doing?" Rick demanded as they unstrapped their seatbelts and headed for the door.
Bruce laughed. "I told you, we're going to look at a slide show of Mr. Fox's trip to Rome."
"Give the boy a break, Mr. Wayne. But Richard, it's really better if you wait until you see it," Fox said, his own excitement evident in his voice.
A man in a leather bomber jacket waited for them at the bottom of the exit ladder. He had long pale hands and a long pale face that drooped over the collar of his jacket in a way that reminded Rick of a rag doll. Fox grabbed the man's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "Chuck, how are you? Mr. Wayne, I'd like you to meet the best pilot I know, Mr. Charles Yeager."
"Are you sure about this, Fox?" Yeager asked slowly, eyeing Bruce and Richard with deep disapproval.
"It's Mr. Wayne's company, Chuck," Fox began, but Rick didn't hear what else he said, because he was staring hard at a low shape almost indistinguishable from the night. Walking slowly toward it, he saw that it had to be a plane, but it was so tiny it looked like a toy, or a UFO model for a geeky scifi film, an impression enhanced by the triangular shape of the wings.
"Do you fly that, Mr. Yeager?" Rick asked in an awed voice as the others came up beside them.
"Yep," the pilot answered laconically, pulling out two sticks of gum of gum and slowly folding them into his mouth.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Fox asked reverently.
Bruce nodded. "How many can it fit?"
"Two," Yeager said, but added grudgingly, "There's jump seats for two more, but they can't sit up straight.
"I don't think we care about that," Fox answered. "Chuck, why are we still standing on this runway?"
Bruce's eyes snapped open in the dim room. Turning his head, he glanced at the clock where green numbers glowed 8 a.m. Notwithstanding the fact he'd only slept for three hours, he was definitely awake. Not bothering to try and go back to sleep, he climbed out of bed and walked over to the window, which would have had a spectacular view had there been anything but drifting gray snow to see.
Last night had been superb. Not only had he avoided the problem of what to do with Robin, but the plane exceeded his expectations, even after Fox's exuberant buildup. He had finally persuaded a reluctant Yeager to show him the controls, and he couldn't help grinning as he remembered the way the engines responded to the lightest guidance, as fluid in air as a fish in water.
The door of his suite clicked open, and he turned, suddenly remembering Selina Kyle's probing remark about a plane the day before. He had told Fox, who philosophically replied that something was bound to get out, but that he was confident that "a new plane" was about as technical as Lex Luthor or anyone else was able to get.
Selina, wearing the same silken robe she had appeared in yesterday, paused in the archway to the bedroom. "Up so early?" she asked. "I was certain I'd have to wake you."
"Well, you know how it is, away from your own bed."
She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I don't think I remember the last time I slept in my own bed."
"Where is your own bed?" he asked curiously. "You know where I live, but I just realized I don't have any idea where you come from."
She shrugged and walked forward to stand beside him at the window. "Everywhere and nowhere. I have several apartments, in the cities I visit most frequently. I suppose I'll acquire one in Gotham before long."
"And do you call any of them home?"
"No." She hesitated and then went on, "Home is … Well, I suppose home is wherever my father has settled for the moment. He's a restless man."
"You're lucky to have your father still living."
Her blue eyes were very dark. "Luckier than you know." Abruptly she shook back her long hair, as if to throw off her solemn mood, and the familiar mocking glint was back in her eyes. "You escaped gambling again last night. You know I can't let you get away with that."
"I was hoping you wouldn't," he returned, smiling easily. "I had fun yesterday."
"Yes, well, I unfortunately don't have time for the many thrills of Go Fish today. You'll have to be content with blackjack."
"Sure," Bruce said agreeably. "You set up while I shave."
"Feeling optimistic, are we?" she asked dryly, as she pulled out the fresh pack of cards housekeeping had left.
"Same stakes, right?" he called from the bathroom, plugging in his razor.
When he emerged, cheeks and jaw smooth, she was sitting at the small breakfast table, idly shuffling and reshuffling the cards. As he took his seat she made an elaborate show of offering him the deck to cut, and then dealt.
Bruce glanced at his cards—two kings. "I'll hold."
Selina looked at her own hand, picked another card off the deck and threw her cards down triumphantly. "Twenty-one."
"Too bad," Bruce said mildly. "Best of three?"
"If you like."
He picked up the cards, shuffled and dealt. Selina looked at hers and showed him an ace and a ten. "Twenty-one."
"Four out of seven?" he asked hopefully.
"I don't think so." Selina pushed back from the table and stood. "Once may have been chance. Twice is fate. Now let me think." She folded her hands behind her back and paced thoughtfully in front of him. "What do I most want from you? I don't suppose you learned anything new about the plane from Mr. Fox last night?"
"How'd you know I was at Fox's?"
"It's my job to know where you are when you aren't spending money here. I could ask you for that new German car you just spent six months getting through customs, although I don't find speed that big of a thrill."
"Do you know everything?"
"Yes. Now, I could ask you for a block of Enterprises stock, which is a very tempting idea, except that your stocks are locked up in a trust, and to release any of them you have to get the co-signature of one trustee. And I really doubt either Fox or your old butler are going to allow any shares to escape for a debt of honor."
"Seriously. You're starting to scare me."
Selina laughed. "What can I say? Lex wanted to know all about his biggest competitor."
"Oh, well that makes me feel so much better. I've always wanted Lex Luthor as a stalker."
"You're in very good company if it makes you feel any better."
"Not really," he muttered. "So, will you make up your mind already?"
She sighed. "It's harder than I thought it would be. So many things to choose from, and none of them anything I really want. I suppose you'd better kiss me."
Bruce stared at her in genuine surprise. "Huh?" He knew from her satisfied smile that she had said it as much to startle him as from any other motive.
"As they say, when in Rome, do as the Romans do …" She slipped onto his lap and wound her arms around his neck. " … when in Gotham …"
"Do as I do?"
"You are the richest man in town," she murmured, brushing her lips against his jaw.
"Richer than Lex," he agreed smugly. "Better looking, too."
"Bruce, does anyone ever tell you that you're shallow?"
"Several times a day," he admitted, pulling gently on the sash of her robe so that the fabric fell away to reveal the match camisole she wore beneath. "It's really not a bad way to be. I have a lot of fun."
"Do you ever think about anything besides having fun?" she asked, allowing him to slip the robe off her shoulders.
"Mmmm, no, not really," he answered, dropping light kisses along her shoulder and the curve of her neck. "When we're done with this we should really check out the Jacuzzi."
"I can't. I have work to do," she answered, slightly breathless, her eyes closed.
"I thought I was your work," he protested, drawing back slightly.
"You're … you're only one of my …" Her eyes flew open. "Why are you stopping?"
He grinned. "Sorry." He planted a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth, lightly drew his thumb down the ripples of her spine until she shuddered and closed her eyes again. "Sure you wouldn't rather find out about the new top secret plane?" he whispered mischievously.
Selina groaned. "Lex can do his own stupid research. Now will you please shut up?"
"Okay," Bruce agreed, and settled his mouth on top of hers.
Her lips parted immediately, and he had distinct impression of falling as he forgot everything but her weight against him, her rich sweet scent, the heavy curtain of her hair that seemed to twist itself around him until the world was nothing but a cloud of blackness, as her mouth pulled him urgently onward and inward, to drown in deep pools of heat.
Bruce felt cold air strike his chest before he realized she was gone, and opened his eyes to find himself alone in the bedroom. He made it to the archway just in time to hear the door to the hall click shut, but before he could follow, his eyes were caught by the pad of hotel stationery abandoned by the door, and he had to laugh as he interpreted the single symbol scrawled there.
8
To Be Continued
A/N Reviewers clearly respond well to bribes, since last week's extra tempted quite a few of you into the open! I'll have to do it again sometime. If anyone reviewed last chapter but did not receive the extra (I'm very, very sorry if this happened, but I lost track with my patchy Internet access) let me know, and I'll get it to you ASAP!
See y'all Saturday!