Chapter 7

The lady who was applying makeup to me was a bitch. I'd figured that one out about 5 minutes into it. When she had started commenting how hard it would be to cover up the bruises around my neck with makeup.

The lady doing my hair was a lot nicer. She liked to talk, but she wasn't complaining like Angela the makeup artist was.

Why was I getting made up like a life sized barbie doll you ask?

Because my father had organised a press conference. I'd agreed of course, but that was before I knew what work it was to just get ready!

I'd already been stuffed into some designer jeans and an Armani polo shirt, which come to think of it, probably cost more then my entire wardrobe at home.

Now wasn't that humbling?

"Just a little more." Maria said, tugging my hair with the straightener, before going to work on my newly cut side fringe.

I was happy to let her do it, I shudder to think what my hair would have been like if I'd been forced to do it with one hand. Or worse…have one of the boys do it.

Angela finished with the mascara, before turning and putting it back in her makeup bag.

I thanked god as she started to pack up. She would be gone! Yay!

Maria turned me around in the swivel chair before she surveyed me critically. Finally, she nodded, and I took a deep breath. If she was finished, then that would mean I could no longer delay the press conference.

"You look great." She said kindly, before she went about collecting her equipment.

"Thanks." I said softly, before standing. I bit my lip, before squaring my shoulders and walking out the room.

Dick was waiting for me, standing as I left the room.

"Ready?" he asked, smiling wryly, and I scowled.

"It depends on what you mean by 'ready'." I said. "If you mean ready to possibly make a fool of myself, sure."

He grinned. "Nah, just show em some of the old Wayne charm."

I snorted. "Trust me." I said. "If I inherited anything from Bruce, it wasn't his charm."

Dick just smiled, leading me to the door of the room the hospital had generously provided for the press conference. Of course, after Bruce had made a sizeable donation.

Guards had already been placed on either side of the door, presumably to check press passes as the press made their way in.

No one else was around now, so they must have all been in the conference room already.

"You'll do fine." Dick whispered in my ear, before at his nod the security guards opened the door, and he was leading me through.

Lightbulbs blinded me as flashes on cameras went off. I was tugged down into a seat next to Bruce, his hand wrapping around mine under the table.

He covered the microphone in front of him, before turning and whispering to me. "Welcome to the frying pan."

"We'll take questions now." He said, turning back to the mic.

Immediately hands shot up.

"Miss West." Bruce said, nodding to a lady wearing a garish green skirt/suit combo in the front. Was this the same Sally West that rang me less then a week ago? God it felt like months.

"This is a question for Miss Wayne." She began, and I leant forward to the mic.

"It's Miss Morgan." I said hesitantly, and suddenly there was a flurry as all the reporters in the room jotted that down on their notepads.

"Yes, well, Miss Morgan." Sally said, looking at me like I was some sort of insect that crawled in under the door. "What would you say to the rumours that you're not really Mr. Wayne's daughter, but someone who staged the kidnapping in order to extort a large amount of money from your supposed father?"

My breath caught in my throat. What?

"Excuse me?" I asked quietly, and I knew I was going pale.

"Miss West, those rumours are unfounded." Bruce said, his eyes flashing angrily. "I haven't even told Elizabeth about those rumours because there is absolutely no way they can be true."

"Just reporting the facts." Sally West said sweetly, and it was only Bruce's hand squeezing mine that kept me in my seat and not running to the exit.

"Why the hell did you keep this from me?" I hissed, remembering to cover the microphone only at the last moment.

"It didn't matter." Bruce said. "All that mattered was you feeling better."

I sighed, trying to ignore the flashes of the cameras going on around us.

"Next time something like this happens, maybe a heads up?" I scowled, before turning back to the woman who was looking way too smug.

"To tell you the truth Miss West." I said, trying to keep my voice level and cool. "Any idiot who thought probably wouldn't be worth my time."

Bruce covered a laugh with a cough, before taking a sip of water to cover a smile as titters of laughter floated around the room.

Thank god I hadn't taken that interview with this idiot.

Bruce took control again, nodding to another lady, who stood. When I looked at Bruce, I saw a real spark of energy in his eyes. I frowned slightly. I wonder what that's about.

"Lois Lane, Daily Planet." She introduced herself. "What gave you hope during the kidnap that Mr. Wayne would pay the ransom?"

I looked around, uncertain. "I didn't know he would." I said at last. "To tell the truth, I didn't think he'd even consider it. I didn't have hope when those men had me, but I should have. Gotham has its fair share of heroes."

She smiled, and sat down, jotting something on her notepad. A man next to her with glasses stood up, bumping into the chair in front of him clumsily. A brief apology was mumbled before he looked up at me, adjusting his glasses.

"Clark Kent, Daily Planet." He said. "How did it feel to find out you had a father after 20 years?"

"I – ," I paused, considering my words. How did I feel? How did I feel that I suddenly had a father, who, because of his status as the 'prince' of Gotham, had gotten me kidnapped?

"When alls said and done, I'm still a little scared I'm gonna wake up and find out its all a dream." I said softly. "I'm glad Bruce and I found each other, and I'm glad I still have the chance to get to know him."

The rest of the press conference went without a hitch, and then Bruce led me out of there with a soft but firm hand on my lower back, Dick following, before leading me with a security escort down to the carpark of the hospital where Alfred waited with the Mercedez.

"We're going back to the Manor, and then you're going to bed." Bruce said sternly. "Alfred will bring your meals to you. I have a laptop waiting for you at home, and Tim's already moved one of the TV's into your room, so you have absolutely no need to get out of bed for anything except the bathroom."

I snorted. "It's a broken arm, Bruce. Last time this happened Mum couldn't keep me from climbing trees, let alone keep me in bed."

I stifled the sigh as I thought of my mother.

"But last time this happened did you have severely bruised ribs as well?" Dick snarked.

"No, but you will if you don't stop fussing about this." I said sweetly.

"Ooh, already threatening violence." Dick teased.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, pouting.

"Do we need to split you two up?" Alfred asked as we approached.

I smiled, shaking my head. Despite our rocky start, I thought me and Dick were going to get on just fine.

BMBMBM

True to his word, Bruce had organised for a laptop with wireless internet and a TV to be brought into my room.

I took one disdainful look at the set up and grabbed the laptop and the internet boxes, slinging them under my good arm with only a little difficulty and walked out of my room, making my way down the stairs and to one of the lounge rooms where I knew the others were sitting.

I ignored the amused looks Dick and Tim gave me, plonking myself down in a comfy arm chair, and picking at the tape that held the laptop box together.

"What are you doing out of bed?" Bruce scowled.

I grinned. "Well, I never got IN bed, so I don't know how I can be OUT of bed."

Tim let out a surprised laugh, as Bruce's scowl deepened. "I don't want you to injure yourself any further by not taking the rest you need." He said, and I rolled my eyes.

"I've rested heaps already in the hospital. And I'm not gonna injure myself more." I said. "My arms in a cast, and unless any of you decide to punch me in the ribs, they're gonna be fine as well."

Tim finally took pity on me and took the laptop box away from me to open it up.

"Elizabeth-," Bruce began, but I interrupted him.

"Bruce." I said firmly. "I haven't had a bed time since I was 14. you're not going to win this argument, so don't even try. When I get tired, I'll go to bed."

Bruce let it drop, but the stony look on his face let me know he wasn't happy with the situation.

"While you're up and about then, we can talk about offers you've gotten from several newspapers and current affairs programs." He said, and it was my turn to frown.

"I don't have to do I?" I asked.

Bruce shrugged. "I'm not going to force them on you." He said. "But it would be a good idea for you to accept some of them. It's better to get your story out then to let the rumour mill run rampant."

"Or we could not, cos most of the press today were pretty…"

"Blood thirsty?" Dick suggested.

I snorted. That was an understatement.

"There are a few members of the press that you could go to." Bruce said. "Some that I've had dealings with in the past can be trustworthy."

"Do you really think I should?" I asked sceptically. "I seem to permanently suffer from foot in mouth disease."

Bruce smiled, as Tim handed the laptop, plugged in, to me.

"Ms Lane and Mr Kent will do their best not to let you look like an idiot, don't worry." He said. "They're the ones I would choose for an interview."

"Anything's gotta be better then Sally West." I muttered.