FIC: Faith Wayne (3/?)

A photograph of a quite devastatingly-beautiful young woman appeared on the computer screen. "How fortunate," murmured Alfred, "it appears the young woman got her looks off her mother rather than her father."

The look the master shot him was another step towards confirmation. "Tell me what you know Oracle?" Bruce growled into the microphone.

"Faith Lehane, born June 30th 1982. She was adopted by a Professor Diana Dormer in May 1996, just a month short of her fourteenth birthday. She lived with her adoptive parent for two years, but in July 1998, Dormer was butchered by person or persons unknown. Quite a bloody mess according to the autopsy report -."

"Excuse me Miss," Alfred stepped forward and spoke into the mike, "was Professor Dormer English by any chance?"

"Yes, she was." Barbara paused. "How did you know that?"

"It's a theory of Alfred's that's steadily gaining credence," Bruce replied as Alfred stepped back, but not before exchanging a significant look with his employer. "Thank you, Barbara, please continue," Bruce commented.

"Miss Lehane disappeared off the map until April 2000, where she turned herself into the police and pleaded guilty to one count of homicide in the second degree and one count of manslaughter-."

"Master!" Alfred leapt forward when his employer seemed to stumble almost as if kayoed. "Ms. Gordon, perhaps we can continue this -."

"Barbara, go on," Bruce interrupted, his briefly wrought face turning back to stone. "I'm fine."

"Yes Bruce," Barbara sounded confused but obeyed. "Lehane was sentenced to twenty years to life at Stockton. According to her prison records, she was a model prisoner for three years, completing her GED, doing first aid courses, and assisting other girls who were bullied by tougher inmates. But in March 2003 she had escaped from prison after the visit of a Wesley Whyndham-Pryce, the first person to visit her bar her cousin, a Liam Doolan, since her imprisonment." Barbara paused. "You're aware of the Sunnydale incident?"

Bruce nodded. "I'm aware it happened, but nothing more than that."

"Well she was apparently there, for whatever reason." Barbara paused. "This is very interesting, according to what I've been able to find out, Faith was pardoned in July '03 after a personal request from the British Ambassador on behalf of the Home Secretary."

"Bloody hell," Bruce looked towards him. Alfred shook himself. "Sir, despite what I said earlier about this young lady being too old to be the Slayer, it's interesting to note the Council is reputed to have very high connections with the British government."

Bruce stared at him for a second before nodding. "Thank you, Alfred, your input is always appreciated."

"Hey who's the babe?" Alfred looked over his shoulder to see Master Drake peering with typical adolescent interest at the photo on the screen. "Only if there's bodyguard duty to be done, I'm volunteering."

Bruce didn't look over his shoulder as he replied. "If my suspicions are correct, she's my daughter."

Master Drake gulped, Adam's Apple bouncing up and down as he retreated back to the lift. "Oh, forget I spoke. I've still some homework to do. See you later."

"My," Alfred chuckled as Master Drake retreated, "that was entertaining."

Barbara's voice filtered through the speakers. ""May I continue?"

"Please," Bruce growled. "That way I might forget I have a charge to kill."

"Since then she's worked at a private academy giving free care and education for 'children with potential'. Their academy is called the Jesse McNally Memorial Academy, but although I've attempted to hack the system of the charity behind the school, they have a total of eighteen such establishments throughout the world, I can't do it."

"Jesse McNally?" Bruce's thick eyebrows rose. "Can you do a search on that name?"

"Give me a moment," Barbara replied. "While I'm doing it, you might be interested in what I've managed to find out about the school's principal."

"I thought you said you couldn't hack the charity's computers?" Bruce queried.

"I couldn't," Barbara admitted, more than a note of irritation in her voice, "but the Academy itself has a website. He's a very interesting character."

"Please," Bruce nodded, "continue."

"Alexander LaVelle Harris, born 13th March 1981-."

"Did you say the principal?" Alfred interrupted. "Begging your pardon, Miss, but he's a little young."

"The thought had occurred to me, he's also grossly under-qualified, he's got his High School Diploma from Sunnydale High, but that's it, no other academic qualifications on record. In fact, it appears that before becoming the principal he worked as a construction foreman." Barbara paused. "He's an odd case as well, his childhood appeared relatively normal, apart from an unusually high amount of visits to the local hospital that suggested either a chronically clumsy child or physical abuse. It's strange that the Police didn't investigate further-," Barbara paused, "oh wait. I've just got a report here, a Jesse McNally was reported missing by his family in 97, to the Sunnydale Police Department. As far as I can find he never reappeared."

"All paths seem to lead to Sunnydale," Bruce muttered.

"I note the Memorial in the McNally Academy's title," Alfred commented. Bruce raised an eyebrow at his comment. "Perhaps they've resigned themselves to his death or actually know he's dead. Perhaps they were even somehow involved in his death."

"Interesting," Bruce muttered before looking towards the screen. "Barbara, please continue."

"In January 1998, Harris was suspected of breaking into the local army base and stealing a rocket launcher, however no charges were ever drawn up. In May 99, his school blew up," Alfred blinked, "at his graduation ceremony. However here's where it gets really weird, I found a mention of his involvement destroying a top-secret underground base-."

"Not that I'm doubting you Miss. Gordon, but if this is true, why is he walking around free as a bird?" Alfred queried.

"Sounds exactly like you're doubting me," Barbara's voice had a note of amusement to it. "I'm looking at a top-secret military file, related to a group called The Demon Research Initiative-."

"Can't say I've heard of them," commented Batman. "And I know most clandestine intelligence groups."

"The Initiative were established in the 1940s to combat the Third Reich's interest in the occult, and then continued after that to combat the Soviets in the same area. By the nineties they were under the command of a Professor Walsh, a PHD in cybernetics, behaviour modification, psychology, and anatomy. She was in Sunnydale running a joint Pentagon and LexCorp funded project that aimed to splice together a demon-human-cyborg super-soldier. However the one prototype they managed to complete went insane and ran amok through the underground base, slaughtering everyone there until he and several of his companions stopped it through tactics unknown, destroying the base in the process."

"Did these companions include Faith Lehane?" Bruce interrupted, a note of desperate hope in his employer's voice.

"No, there's no mention of her," replied Barbara.

"Miss Gordon, you're telling me you could hack a top-secret military database but not a charity?" Alfred queried.

"Yes," Barbara replied, her voice tight with tension, "I noticed that too. The next major entry relating to Xander Harris is him being admitted to Sunnydale Hospital, just days before the entire town fell into the ground. It was a supposed industrial accident that cost him an eye-."

"Um," Bruce grunted. "He's one-eyed? He might well be the man with Faith tonight."

"I'll send you all the files I have Bruce," Barbara promised.

"Thank you," Bruce cut the connection.

"Sir, if I might enquire?"

"You might," Bruce sighed heavily as he sunk into a chair, pain in his usually impassive dark eyes. "It was early October 1981, I was in Boston, it was after I'd gone to join the FBI, but realised I couldn't accept their inefficient methods of investigation, and so I wondering what to do. I was driving through Boston at night when I saw a young woman being attacked by a trio of thugs," Bruce shook his head. "I stopped them and then she took my breath away."

"Faith's mother?"

Bruce nodded. "Her eyes were chocolate brown rather than black, she had a mole on her left cheek, and she was a little taller than her daughter, less confident too, but she was very similar to her daughter otherwise. We spent a very happy three days at one of Boston's finer hotels and then I left, never giving her another thought."

"And perhaps you left something behind?" Alfred hesitated. "Sir, it is hardly my place to say…."

Bruce smiled wryly. "That's never stopped you before old friend."

"The dates do match, but your paramour hardly seems to be the most," he struggled for a word then settled on the most diplomatic he could think of, "chaste of ladies."

"Perhaps not," Bruce conceded. "But if her daughter is my child, the things she's been through…" He shook his head. "I've tried to live my life by a code, but by abandoning this girl, I violated my code. No," Wayne shook his head, eyes desolate, "worse than that I damaged an innocent."

"Sir, you can hardly be blamed for something you didn't know about," Alfred protested, knowing full well his words in vain, Bruce held himself to a higher standard that he held anyone else to, an unrelenting standard that would break the back of a lesser man. "Besides there is something else to consider." Bruce stared at him. "This young woman you had relations with, sounds to me to perhaps be the gold-digger type. If she had a daughter by you, wouldn't she seek some monies?"

"Perhaps she wasn't sure of the parentage herself as you implied." Bruce paused. "As Barbara said, Eliza was a drug user. Perhaps she simply didn't recall my name." Bruce rose. "However this is supposition on both our parts. We need evidence."

"And how do you propose to get said evidence?" Alfred queried.

Bruce pursed his lips. "The well-known playboy and philanthropist Bruce Wayne is going to visit the academy tomorrow to consider it for a grant."

Alfred nodded. "I'll phone first thing in the morning to arrange an appointment."

"Thank you," Bruce nodded. "And I'll ready the lab for DNA analysis."

"And if she is your daughter, sir?" queried Alfred. "And what if she is a Slayer?"

Bruce shrugged his shoulders. "That's a bridge I'll have to cross when I get to it, I'm afraid."

"Yes sir. Whatever you decide to do, I'm sure you'll make the right decision." Alfred stretched and glanced at the clock. "Sir, it's rather late. If you don't mind, I'd like to turn in."

"By all means," Bruce nodded. "I'll stay up a while and think. I don't think I'll be able to sleep anyway."

Alfred shot his master a worried look as he retreated to the elevator, searching for but failing to find any words to comfort him.