A/N: Thanks to LeahChristine09, brainfear, haji666, miss vertigo and AngelQueen for their reviews. I don't want to whine, but a lot more people than that added this story to their Story-Alerts. Come on, people! If you like it enough to add it to your story alerts then surely you like it enough to say so? Okay, I'm done bitching.
Chapter Six - Second Impressions
"Are you alright, Ilaria?" Barbara asked me, her voice concerned. "You look a little flushed."
I forced a smile. "I'm fine. It's just rather hot in here."
"Nothing to do with Bruce Wayne then?" Jim's soft, slightly husky tone enquired.
I rolled my eyes and sighed. "The man may be rich, but..."
Reminding myself that I was in the midst of Gotham's elite and 'jackass' probably wasn't an acceptable social term, I stopped.
Thankfully Jim seemed to catch my drift, and agreed. "Mmm. I've only really spoken to him a few times. He saved the life of someone in my custody last year."
My eyebrows shot up. "Really? Bruce Wayne?" Had I totally misjudged him? The heat in my face was embarrassment now.
He laughed. "Well...inadvertently. Trying to catch a green light."
I relaxed slightly and echoed his laugh.
"Smashed up his Lamborghini pretty good though..." Jim added, with a slightly regretful note in his voice.
Next to me, his wife sighed in exasperation. "Don't get Jim started on cars," she warned me. "He suffers from the male condition."
I considered. "Oh I don't know. There's something about the sound of a really fast car..."
"Oh, Ilaria, not you too," she moaned playfully.
"Well..." I shrugged. There was something about the roar of an engine that caused a shiver to run through me, always had. Of course the people who drove them tended to be playboys with too much time and money, but still.
Jim sighed. "Well I think I've had about all I can take of rubbing elbows with the rich and famous for one night."
"Part of your job, I guess?" I asked.
He chuckled. "It is now. Oh, to be a lieutenant again..."
"I imagine there are perks though, being in the top job?"
"Can't say I've found them yet," he told me. "There might be in other towns, but in Gotham-" He cut himself off with a sigh. "Never mind, I'm sure you don't need me to harp on about my problems."
"Can we offer you a lift home, Ilaria?" Barbara asked me. "Save you the cab fare."
I nodded. "Thanks."
I felt a little guilty at accepting a lift home from the commissioner of police when less than fifteen minutes after they dropped me off I was planning on going out and breaking the law. Admittedly I'd only be beating the crap out of criminals, but assault was still assault. Pushing the niggle of almost betrayal aside, I said goodnight to Barbara and Jim, then went upstairs.
Putting my suit on made me feel free, made me realise how much acting I'd done this evening. It was the safest thing to do, but God it was tedious. Most of the night I'd wanted to stand in the middle of the room and yell at them all for being so oblivious to the hardship of the people around them. Did Batman have the same problem?
Sighing, I stretched to warm up, checked my weapon and grappling hook, then moved to the doors. Stepping out onto the helipad, I took an inhale of cool night air, then set off on patrol.
---
I didn't stick around for long; it was late enough already and I needed to be patrolling soon. I'd come in the Lamborghini, so driving back to the manor at reckless speed wouldn't be a problem. It might have been easier just not to sell the penthouse, since that way I'd have a safe-house in the city. Of course if I'd done that then it wouldn't currently be occupied by such an...interesting resident.
Patrol had to be suspended for a while; I was investigating an arms dealer bringing in M-16s to Gotham. Traditional organised crime had become all but extinct thanks to the Joker and Dent, but that didn't mean that there weren't a million others waiting to pick up where Gambol and Maroni had left off.
So far all the gunmen I'd apprehended didn't know anything of significance - but the fact that they were, to a one, wearing clown masks when perpetrating their crimes told me everything I needed to know. Finding the main arms dealer and how they were getting the weapons into Gotham could mean a valuable source of information. The Joker might be in Arkham, but he was obviously still communicating with the outside world somehow. That needed to stop. Sometimes I thought I'd rather have the mob back than the mindless, motiveless crime that the Joker preferred. Criminals with guns was one thing - criminals with guns and no sense of discipline was something far more dangerous.
As a consequence, though I'd left the ball by midnight, I spent most of that night in the cave, following various leads using the most reliable method - follow the money. It would be the way anyone found me out. In fact it was how Colman Reese had. Thankfully he hadn't proven to be too much a problem since I'd saved his life - the one time I'd expected something in return. To be on the safe side, Mr Reese now had a nice cushy desk job in L.A., something which required very little work in return for his six figure salary.
When I looked at the clock, it was coming up to four am. The rich aroma of hot chocolate reached my nose, and I looked around to see that Alfred had somehow delivered a gently steaming pot without me noticing. There was a post-it note attached to the mug next to it. Just in case you're planning on sleeping tonight.
I smirked. Sleep in the hours of darkness would be a novel change. I'd kept the police scanner on to monitor the situation in Gotham, but it had been quiet all night so far. Besides, there was always Echo.
Despite being extremely suspicious of her, part of me was curious. She'd seemed genuine when she said she wanted to help - if that was true then it would certainly be weight off my shoulders. I frowned as a horrible thought struck me. She might want to clean up Gotham, but the how was crucial. Killing was unacceptable. I knew that, but did she? I'd have to make it clear the next time we met.
Pushing that aside for now, I turned my attention back to the computer. Following the money had led me to an Andrew Bristol - the owner of a small toy company downtown. Toys? I'm after guns... Although... The fear toxin that Scarecrow and Ra's had used had come in stuffed rabbits and teddy bears. And using a company built around making children happy to smuggle guns had a kind of irony that would appeal to the Joker.
I pulled up a new window and accessed the website for Bristol's company. Bingo. It specialised in military toys. Perfect cover. Andrew Bristol would be getting a late-night visit from Batman tomorrow. Feeling quite satisfied with myself, I poured a mug of hot chocolate and got up, looking forward to the prospect of bed before sunrise.
I'd only gotten three steps before the scanner crackled into life. "Unit 471 to Dispatch. Dispatch, come in please."
"Dispatch here."
"Contact Commissioner Gordon, there's a situation."
"Sit-rep?"
"We have two arsonists in custody who are claiming they were attacked by a costumed vigilante."
Dispatch did not sound all that impressed. "We know Batman's still in operation, 471. Hardly worth waking the-"
"It's not Batman."
There was a slightly stunned silence before the woman in the police station spoke again. "Say again, 471?"
"I repeat; it is not Batman. The vigilante is a woman."
Echo. She obviously hadn't killed them. And she hadn't stuck around to talk to the police either. That suggested a healthy amount of caution. And as long as she didn't cross the line, I expected Gordon would be fairly anxious to meet her. I hadn't been able to contact him since Dent - it would be too dangerous for both of us. Maybe Echo would be able to. There was no way he'd resurrect the signal on top of MCU, there was too much suspicion and fear in Gotham to do that now, especially for an unknown vigilante.
Despite my intentions of going to bed early, it didn't happen. I kept listening to the scanner for signs of Echo, but nothing else came up. It was six by the time I finally got to sleep.
---
It was bothering me.
For some completely irritating reason, I couldn't get Bruce Wayne out of my head. I'd mentally called him a jackass earlier, though that wasn't exactly fair - he hadn't actually said anything completely moronic; it was just his criticism of Batman that had got under my skin. And faced with the police commissioner I couldn't exactly harp on about Batman all the time. I doubted Barbara would like it either - not with what he'd supposedly done to her family. I needed friends in this city, and Barbara Gordon was a genuinely lovely woman. We'd known each other only a day, but I liked her, and we'd arranged to meet for lunch later in the week.
But even so...I knew more about Barbara than I did Batman - so why was I so ready to believe that he couldn't have killed Harvey Dent?
Maybe it was because I knew how much the criminals still feared him. Echo hadn't been operating in the city for long, but when I dropped down from the shadows, the first flash of fear on their faces always faded when they realised they weren't dealing with a figure in a cape. Of course, I did my best to put the fear back on to their faces right after that realisation. And I wasn't doing too bad of a job, even if I did say so myself.
I watched with a smirk from a nearby rooftop as the police carted the two arsonists into a squad car and drove away. The building they'd set fire to was an empty store, luckily, and no one had been hurt or killed. "Have fun in jail, lads."
There had been no sign of Batman tonight, about which I was slightly disappointed. My encounter with Bruce Wayne - while the dance had been pleasant in its way - had left me slightly annoyed. It would have been nice to see Batman beating the shit out of someone. Preferably someone who was attacking Bruce Wayne, just so he would be made aware of how much good Batman did. It had been quiet again though, and I was tired, so soon after I made my way home.
Getting into bed had never felt so good. It felt like I was literally sinking into the mattress I was so comfortable. Thank God I didn't have anything major to do tomorrow. Or rather later today, since it was six am already.
I successfully ignored the ringing of the doorbell for a good ten minutes before I finally dragged my arse blearily out of bed and down the stairs. I pressed the buzzer. "Yes?"
Charlie's voice answered. "It's me, I've got Jasper and your mail."
"'kay..."
I moved over to the kitchen, filling up the kettle and dumping some coffee grounds into two cups. Thirty seconds later, the elevator doors pinged and Charlie came out, mid-flow. "You have a lot of explaining to do, Ria."
My sleepy brain had no idea what she was talking about. "Huh?"
"This!" she replied. She sat down on the couch while I crouched down to greet my dog, receiving a lick on my hand and a very waggly tail as my reward. I rubbed his ears and fussed him for a bit before standing up, reaching for his food.
"Never mind your dog," Charlie snapped, "get in here!"
I raised an eyebrow at her tone; it was rare we fought or lost our tempers with the other. "In a minute."
I poured some food into a bowl, told Jasper to eat and then stood again. The crunch of paper reached my ears as I came out of the kitchen with our coffees. "The Gazette?" I asked.
"No," she told me, "it's the Times."
I frowned. "And what have I done to offend the Times?" I asked
"Oh nothing. But on the front page of the society section..."
"Oh no," I groaned. "Let me guess." I should have identified the tension in her voice before - it wasn't annoyance, it was suppressed glee.
"You danced with Bruce Wayne!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe you didn't phone me and tell me straight away!"
"It was past midnight by the time I got home-"
"It's Bruce Wayne!" she insisted. "I'd have gotten up for that!"
"Charlie, it's really no big deal, he's just-"
"Just Bruce Wayne!" she repeated. "Seriously, Ria, what's he like?"
"He's...I can see how he would be charming," I said honestly. "But I found him slightly vapid and...I don't know...something about him just bothered me."
I didn't lie to Charlie; she didn't know about Echo, but over the years it had become easy to reinterpret the truth, or to hide certain parts of it. And there had been something about Bruce Wayne that interested me. He obviously wasn't stupid, whatever else he might be, and the conversation had been almost dichotomous - he'd ask serious questions and then immediately make a stupid remark.
"Bothered you enough to see him again?" she asked knowingly.
I rolled my eyes at the smirk in her voice. "Hardly. I turned him down when he asked me to dinner."
"Ilaria!"
I winced in pain at her shriek. "Ow! Do you know how high-pitched your voice gets when you do that?"
She ignored my complaint. "Bruce Wayne! How could you say no to Bruce Wayne?"
"I didn't like him, Charlie, I'm hardly likely go to dinner with someone I don't like."
"You just said he could be charming," she pointed out.
"I'm sure he could; he could charm me right into being another notch on his bedpost if I let him."
"I could think of worse things to be," she commented.
"Of course you could," I smirked. "Now pass me my mail."
There wasn't really anything interesting, mostly bills apart from the last one: an invitation to a charity gala Mayor Garcia was holding in two weeks, with all proceeds going to the National Federation for the Blind. In fact it wasn't an invitation so much as it was asking me to perform.
I made a mental note to reply with a 'yes', and put the letter down, draining the last of my coffee.
"I still can't believe you turned Bruce Wayne down," Charlie muttered. "It's almost sacrilege."
"Merda, will you drop it?" I muttered. "If I'd know you were going to be this much trouble I'd have said yes."
"Good, call him."
"Nice try, but I don't have his number." Before she could reply, I changed the subject. "How's the painting coming?"
"Not well," she admitted. "I'm just not happy with it. His face isn't how I remember it."
"You could always try and find him again," I suggested. Charlie was working on a portrait of a homeless man she'd met once, just by chance.
"Yeah right. Do you know how many homeless people there are in this city?" she asked.
Unfortunately, I knew all too well; they were the people who got the brunt of the anger of the criminals if something didn't go well. I did my best, but all too often I couldn't get there in time, and just came across corpses of people who had nowhere else to go. Just last night I'd heard screams, and arrived too late to do anything. There was just a bloodied old woman, slumped on the pavement.
I tracked down her attacker though - he got a broken collarbone and wrist as his reward, and then been dumped at the gates of the police precinct. It hadn't made me feel better, and nor had it brought the victim back.
The door buzzer went again, and I crossed to it with a frown. I wasn't expecting a delivery. "Hello?"
"Delivery from Maynard Flowers for Ilaria Simmons," a bored sounding voice answered me.
I frowned in surprise. Who'd be sending me flowers? Much less from the most exclusive florist in the city. "Um, come up."
I suddenly became very aware that I was still in my pyjamas, my hair un-brushed and wearing no makeup at all. It was only a delivery guy, but still - Maynard Avenue. "Charlie, can you sign for them for me? I'm going to throw some clothes on."
"Sure."
I showered quickly - and as soon as I opened the bathroom door the incredible smell of the flowers hit me. Roses and freesias mainly, with a hint of hyacinth mixed in there too. All very fragrant blooms, chosen for their scent more than anything. Hmm. That suggested thoughtfulness that many people didn't have. Who on Earth were they from?
Once I'd dressed, I went back downstairs. "Who sent them?" I asked.
"No idea, there's no card."
I frowned and approached the flowers she'd set on the coffee table. They'd apparently come in a vase already; cut crystal from the weight of it. I buried my nose into the flowers, inhaling deeply. They smelled heavenly.
And they were ringing.
I frowned, then located the cell phone buried inside the blooms. I opened it and put the receiver to my ear. "Hello?"
"Good afternoon, Miss Simmons."
"Who is this?"
---
A/N: Review please!
