Casey felt more than under-dressed as Bruce offered his arm to her at the base of the restaurant steps. She knew he was taking her out to dinner to make up for the debacle at New Years and so she managed to unearth a black pencil skirt and olive green blouse from her closet. But the white cursive letters displaying the name of the restaurant against the black background and the valet taking the car keys from Bruce made butterflies fly around in her stomach.
Bruce let go of her arm to hold the door open for her. And once inside, Casey's breath left her when she spied a grand crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. She nervously straightened her skirt and resisted the urge to cross her arms to hide her stomach.
The Maître D' led them through the restaurant and Casey's heart sank further and further every time she saw a woman wearing a fancy dress. And in return many of the women gave Casey strange looks as their eyes darted from her to Bruce and back to her.
They sat at a table on the second floor, the chandelier on their eye level. Bruce pulled out a chair for her and Casey smiled at him as he pushed her chair in. But her smile froze when her gaze landed on the tableware. There were three different forks on her left, three knives on her right combined with a large spoon, a small spoon and fork sitting above her plate, a small plate and knife off to the side, and a large goblet and two wine glasses, one with a larger opening than the other. Those had to be for red and white wines, Casey guessed, but as for the other silverware, she had no idea what they were for. Did she go outside in?
Her inner struggle abated briefly when the Maître D' handed them menus. She scanned over the food, trying extremely hard to ignore the high prices. She took a moment to peek over her menu at Bruce. "Have you eaten here before?" She cursed inwardly when her voice cracked slightly.
"I have," Bruce replied calmly. "Need some help picking?"
"Yeah," She replied. "What do you recommend?"
"The filet mignon is delicious; I've had it before. But I can't say no to the Kobe strip steak."
Casey took a look at both and nearly choked on her air when she spotted the three digit prices. She hastily reached over her menu and grabbed her water and took a swig. You're not paying for this, she reminded herself. Bruce probably paid three hundred and fifty dollars for a steak regularly.
A new waiter came by their table with a bottle of wine and filled the smaller wine glass with white wine. He set the bottle in an ice bucket before leaving. Casey grabbed the glass and took a big swig. It was sweet and had a nice tang to it. "Can I confess something?" Casey asked.
"Of course."
"You probably know I've never been in a restaurant like this," she said. "This Kobe strip steak alone costs over half my paycheck." She flashed a weak grin and closed her menu. "Can you pick something for me so I don't know how much it is and have an internal freak out over money?"
Bruce blinked at her. There was a beat of uneasy silence between them before Bruce smiled. "Sure," He said. "I can do that."
Casey let out her baited breath in a rush of relief. "Thanks!" She said cheerfully and drank more of her wine. "But let me pick the place next time, okay?"
A sly smirk crossed Bruce's face. "So there's going to be a next time?" He asked.
Casey felt red flush across her face. "Maybe," She teased. They sure weren't going to go to a fancy restaurant though. But she'd come up with something fun.
When the waiter came back, Bruce placed both of their orders. Indeed, he did order the Kobe strip steak and the filet mignon for Casey. The waiter took their menus and left them again.
"So what's the damage on your manor?" Casey asked when they were alone.
"It's going well. They tried burning down my library but Alfred got the sprinkler system going at last minute."
Casey's hand flew to her mouth in horror. "That's terrible! Was everyone okay?"
"Some people had minor injuries and we had a hell of a time trying to defrost the people who were frozen by that Freeze guy. And we lost a couple priceless books," he said, a grimace crossing his face. "But we'll be okay. A couple weeks of reconstruction but nothing permanent happened."
She smiled. "That's great to hear. And did you see the news about Ferris Boyle?"
A dark look flashed over Bruce's face. "Yes," he said shortly. "I can't believe he was hiding so much corruption in his company. If I knew, I would never have given him the Humanitarian of the Year Award."
"Such a bummer," Casey agreed. "But you can't catch them all." Though Batman did, she added silently. Batman was the only reason why Boyle was behind bars right now.
"People can try," Bruce commented. "I read that Batman was the one who unearthed the whole conspiracy."
"He was there at your place, you know," Casey said.
His eyes widened. "He was?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I saw him. He showed up at the very end. He wanted to know where they were taking Boyle." She frowned. "Kinda weird how he knew right away that it was Boyle being kidnapped."
Bruce shrugged. "I don't know. I could never begin to understand a man like him."
"Neither could I," she said. And she didn't want to anymore. The lecture he gave her made it more than clear that he didn't want to see her walk into a dangerous situation ever again. She needed to wash her hands of the vigilante and focus on getting her life together again. The nightmares were coming back in full force again. And last night, against her better judgment, she hacked into Gotham General files and looked up Mara Jenkins's medical report. And she couldn't do something like that lest she get in trouble again.
The waiter came back with soup and placed them in front of Casey and Bruce and refilled Casey's wine glass.
"Which spoon do I use? I've got like three."
Bruce laughed. "It's a little intimidating at first." He pointed to the large one on Casey's right. "That's your soup spoon. The one above your plate is your desert spoon."
"Okay." She picked up the fork on her farthest left. "And what's this one?"
"Your fish fork."
Once Bruce went over what each utensil was for (and Casey was technically right, she should go outside in, kind of) did their main courses arrive. Making sure she had the right knife and fork in hand, she dug in. And for an expensive beef dish, the filet mignon was delicious. It was so tender and juicy and the mushroom sauce was divine.
Holy stars do the rich eat good food, Casey thought as she ate.
"How is it?" Bruce asked.
"Delicious," Casey replied enthusiastically. "Like super de dupery delicious. Like please bury me in a mound of this stuff so I can eat my way out."
He burst out laughing. "Well you still have to try Alfred's cooking. His food outshines anything you'll find in a restaurant."
"Maybe when the manor is fixed up?" Casey asked hopefully.
"Of course."
-x-
He took her to his private boat to ferry her across the bay. When Casey brought up the lack of a car on the other side, Bruce merely smiled and said he had a spare garage. "You never know when you need a back up car," he said as they huddled in the cabin as the Captain took the boat out.
"Do you normally have a boat captain on standby?" Casey asked as they disembarked.
Bruce shook his head. "Not always. I asked him to work for the meantime to get me to Old Gotham until the bridge is fixed. I have some business arrangements happening over here."
"Like what?"
"I'm going to start a project to restore the courthouse," he explained. "So you're going to see me on this side of Gotham more often."
"That's cool," she said. "That courthouse is pretty banged up."
"So I've heard," he replied.
The spare car turned out to be a sleek black Mercedes and Casey had to hold back her appreciative groan. Anyone could admire a nice, expensive car and Casey was no exception. A small squeal of delight escaped her as she slid into the car. The garage had to be heated because the car wasn't cold at all and she ran her hands all over the leather seat.
Bruce got into the driver seat and started the car and it rumbled to life. Casey actually felt a jolt of excitement ripped through her as Bruce pulled out of the garage and down the streets. Damn these nice cars!
To her slight disappointment, the ride was over too soon and Bruce was pulling off to the side of the road. He got out and hurried around the car and opened the door for you. "Thanks," she said as he helped her out.
Like a gentleman, he walked her to the door as she pulled out her keys from her purse. "Thanks for dinner," she said as she inserted the key into the door. "I had a great time."
He nodded. "Me too. Shall we do it again some time?"
She grinned and nodded too. "Let's. Maybe something fun?"
"Something fun," he echoed. "I'm sure we can find something."
"Great!" And then, without thinking, she stood on her tip-toes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. "Talk to you later, have a good night," she said quickly and unlocked the door before hurrying inside. She didn't stop until she reached her apartment and did the cliché girl-after-date thing of sliding down to the floor, her back against the door, grinning childishly.
-x-
But the next morning came too soon and after one brief nightmarish episode, Casey found herself walking into the GCPD precinct feeling giddy. She was happy to be back at work after her name cleared. But judging by some nasty looks a few officers were shooting her way, many were still unhappy with her.
She'd cross that bridge when she got to it. For now, she was going to keep her head down and work. "Casey," she heard Gordon call across from the bullpen. "A quick word."
"Of course," she called back and jogged up the stairs. "What's up?" She asked as she entered the office.
Gordon looked up at her from his chair. "Close the door," he ordered and she did. "And please take a seat."
She sat in the chair across from him and her eyes darted to a manilla envelope on his desk. "What can I do for you, Gordon?"
Gordon smiled briefly. "I wanted to welcome you back after your temporary suspension. You've been cleared for work and because of certain constraints, I've been put in charge of the Cybercrimes Division."
"Oh, good for you!" Casey exclaimed.
He smiled humorlessly. "And as head of Cybercrimes, I'm giving you a private assignment."
"Yeah?" She asked, suddenly apprehensive of Gordon's grim face. "What is it?"
He sighed heavily and pushed the envelope towards her. "I want you to find Edward Nashton."
She drew back in surprise. "Really? Why me?"
"Yes. Nashton went to underground since Batman uncovered his dealings with Roman Sionis. You've worked with him, you know him best out of everyone still here, and I've seen you work. You know your way around systems and programming. I'm confident you can find him. And," he said and stared at her intently. "You're the person I trust most in the entire precinct."
Tears stung the corner of her eyes and she felt such warmth and appreciation towards Gordon at that statement. "Thanks Gordon," she said appreciatively.
"You're welcome, Casey," he replied. "Will you do it?"
Without any hesitation, she reached over and took the envelope. "I will," she said. "I've got a bone to pick with him, anyway." It was his fault she had been suspended and put under investigation. And she fully intended to make him face justice for his crimes.
"Thank you, Casey." He opened a drawer. "And one more thing." He pulled out a business card and handed it over to Casey, who took it. "I made an appointment for you with a therapist; to help you deal with what happened in Blackgate. You're not required to go but I really encourage you to."
She took note of the date—next Monday—and slipped the business card into her pocket. "I'll consider it," she said seriously. And she meant it. She didn't want to have the nightmares anymore.
She said a quick goodbye before sweeping the envelope up in her arms. When she left, she made a beeline for the cybercrimes offices and found it empty, to her surprise. But she didn't let that deter her as she took her seat at her desk. As she waited for her computer to boot up, she took out the contents of the envelope and spread it out.
As she suspected, it was everything the precinct had on file of Edward. And it wasn't much, just his basic records, payroll history, and various assignments had complete while working for the GCPD. "Couldn't make it easy for me, could you?" Casey mumbled aloud. She has strong suspicions he wiped most of his records off the database or never uploaded them himself. No matter, she had her own ways of finding her former boss.
Because when he ran, he made a grievous mistake. He left his payroll information. Casey had his bank account number and now she had a money trail to follow.
And that was the first thing she did. Normally, she (or Gordon) could request a warrant for his bank statements but Casey didn't have time for that. And quite frankly, she didn't care. She wasn't stealing money from Edward, she just needed to know what he had been doing in the days leading up to him running. And money always talked.
To her great surprise, she found more than she was bargaining for in Edward's bank account. There were payments from the GCPD but there were ungodly huge deposits from a number Casey didn't recognize. She wrote the number down to look up later as she checked his recent activity. He took out $3,000 the day before Christmas Eve and, she realized as she kept scrolling, he had been taking that same out every week for six months before the events of Christmas Eve.
Smart move, she noted. Banks became suspicious if you tried to remove large amounts of money from your account. Anything more than $8,000 would attract the attention of the IRS and the DEA. $3,000 a week could be explained easily; bills to pay for example or he had another account (and she'd bet her entire apartment he did somewhere, she'd just have to find it.)
And despite all the money he took, there was still a sizable amount of money in the account that had Casey jealous. But she didn't dwell on that as she started to look up the account that deposited all of Edward's money in on a weekly basis. To her surprise she found a company called January Chemical who claimed to be a pharmaceutical company. But as she tried to dig into the company, her searches led into dead ends. There was no trace of a CEO, human resources department, or bank statements. Only on paper did this company exist.
She should have expected a front company. Could it be a coverup for someone else? Casey thought. But she had no other leads as she scanned her search page for anything helpful. Her eyes landed on the Wikipedia page for the month of January and on a whim, she clicked it.
She read the article until she came across an interesting tidbit: "January (in Latin, Ianuarius) is named after Janus, the god of beginnings and transitions."
Roman Sionis's company was called Janus Cosmetics. That was not a coincidence. "The two-faced god, how appropriate," Casey muttered. But she hesitated here. She didn't know if she wanted to hack into Janus Cosmetics just yet. With Sionis in prison, there was certainly going to be a trial on the federal level. She didn't want to snoop into something the Feds could possibly have their eye on.
No, she could wait awhile to make sure the coast was clear. All she needed was proof January Chemical was linked with Janus Cosmetics to prove Edward was taking money from Sionis. But this would come later. This wouldn't help her find him.
"So you got your money from Sionis and you took small amounts out every week for six months and squirreled it away somewhere," Casey said and she saved her files. "But where? Where is your foxhole?"
Her eyes flickered to Edward's former office. What was the chance he left something on his computer? He probably banked on everyone in the division going down in his absence and more than likely had firewalls set up that someone without software training couldn't get through.
Just as she stood up, her phone went off. Bruce was calling her. She lowered herself back down in her seat and picked her phone up. "Hello," she said cheerfully.
"Hello to you too," Bruce replied. "I have a question for you. Have you ever been ice skating?"
Ice skating? "I've never been," she confessed. "I'm a bit of a klutz but I'll do it. It sounds like fun."
"Great," Bruce said, sounding enthusiastic. "Are you free Friday?"
Casey snorted quietly. She was always free on Fridays. She rarely went out and had a limited friend-base: one being a fifteen year old girl and the other, a twenty-one year old in college. Though she did have some distance hacker acquaintances. "Yeah, I'm free," she said.
"Great! I'll pick you up at seven?"
"I'm looking forward to it," she laughed.
Just as they said their goodbyes and Casey hung up her phone did someone walk into the office. It was Harvey Bullock. "Good to see you back in action, Wilson," he greeted, his hand held up in greeting.
"Hi Harvey," Casey said. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, since you're the only one working the cybercrimes division and you've just come back, we've got a backed up amount of cases for you to take a look at." To her dismay, he dropped a stack of files on her desk. "A lot of things went down over Christmas and New Years. And I bet you heard about GothCorp. You're the one we gotta turn to to get some evidence against those mooks. Have fun!"
Casey stared at the door as Harvey left, a pit sinking into her stomach. She picked up the first folder and groaned when she found Ferris Boyle's face staring back at her. Guess Edward would have to wait for now.
-x-
"Did you actually rent out the entire arena?" Casey asked in amazement as she and Bruce walked down the cold halls of the ice skating rink.
Bruce nodded. "I had Lucius take care of it for me. I don't want the press finding out about my dating life just yet. Paparazzi can be brutal."
A tiny smile escaped her at Bruce's thoughtfulness. She thought the press would have caught on at the New Years' Eve party with the way Vicki Vale questioned Casey. But the news of Boyle's corruption must have been bigger news than who Bruce Wayne was seeing.
"But shouldn't there be staff or something?" Casey asked.
"Some people are going to come by about fifteen minutes after we leave to close up. I specifically stated I wanted complete privacy," Bruce said. "I'd like to prolong news getting out as long as possible."
"Good idea," Casey agreed.
They helped themselves to ice skates and laced them up. Casey tittered as she tried to balance on her skates. "This is going to be hard," she commented as she grabbed for the rink railing.
"It takes practice," Bruce said as he entered the rink without trouble. He held out his hand for Casey and helped her onto the rink. She wobbled dangerously. She squeaked in fear and grabbed onto Bruce for support.
"Bend your knees," he instructed. "And don't lean back."
"Okay." She nervously as she did what he said. Once in elementary school she went on a rollerblading field trip but she had skates instead. But she could remember the motions she did to stay upright. And to her delight, she found the same principles worked.
She shuffled forward, wobbling slightly, but Bruce was there holding her upright as he effortlessly skated next to her. "How are you good at this?" She jokingly complained.
He grinned. "I've had practice before. I used to go ice skating a lot when I was a kid."
"Sounds exciting," she grumbled.
Bruce laughed. "Come on, I'll show you the ropes."
He had her copy his motions: lean forward and press her full blade outward and slightly forward to make a skid on the ice and then repeat to keep going. "I think I got it," Casey said after several minutes of slowly skating.
"Ready for something more advanced?" Bruce asked her.
"Sure," she said slowly. They began to pick up speed, going in circles around the rink. And once Casey found her balance, only then did she realize she was holding hands with Bruce, their fingers intertwined. Holy crap, we're holding hands!
The revelation shocked her so much that she lost her footing and wobbled dangerously. Her legs went forward but her upper half was falling back. She cried aloud, surprising Bruce, and pulled him down with her. He managed to catch himself on the way down but Casey landed painfully on her back. "Ow," she wheezed out.
"Are you alright?" Bruce asked from above her, his faced lined with worry and amusement.
Casey winced. "My back and pride are bruised but I'll be okay."
"Everybody falls now and then," he said. "But why do we fall?" He offered his hand to her.
She took his hand. "Why do we fall?"
He pulled her up with surprising strength and set her upright on her skate-clad feet. "So we can learn to pick ourselves up."
She snickered. "Poetic. Where did you hear that?"
"My father used to say it when I was young," he said, a faraway look in his eye.
That sobered Casey. "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry."
Then his hand founds her again and she decided she liked how her hand fit in his. His large, warm, and slightly calloused hand wrapped easily over hers. Her eyes met his and she felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold go through her.
He smiled and she returned it, albeit uncertainly. Was he going to kiss—? "Shall we try again?" He asked.
Disappointment coursed through her but she masked it by beaming at him. "Yeah, let's. I think I got the hang of it."
"That fall just now says otherwise," he teased.
"Hey!"
But she managed to keep upright for the rest of the night as Bruce guided her along the rink until she could skate by herself without help. But still, he wouldn't let go of her hand so Casey considered that to be a plus.
Eventually, they were taking off their skates and putting their normal shoes back on. "That was fun!" She said as she finished tying her boots.
"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Bruce replied. "We should do this again before Spring comes."
"Yeah," Casey agreed. This is a bit nicer than spending so much money in a restaurant. She refused to think about how much it cost to rent out an entire skating rink.
Bruce called someone to let them know they were done with rink and someone could come by and close. Casey shivered as they exited. The winter wind was bitingly cold and all she had was her coat and hat.
"You'll freeze," Bruce commented and pulled his scarf off. "Here."
Casey's breath hitched and she felt her air leave her as her mind flashed back to the chapel in Blackgate. His hands were around her neck, squeezing the air out of her, killing her. He was going to kill her and his laughter rung in her ears—"NO!" She shrieked, batting the scarf away.
Bruce stared at her. Casey's face went red. "I'm sorry," she apologized immediately. "I, uh..." What could she say? "I'm fine."
He didn't look convinced. "You sure?" He asked.
She nodded quickly. "I'm sure."
He wound his scarf back around his neck and they walked towards the car, no longer holding hands.
-x-
The following Monday evening, Casey found herself in a waiting room of the therapist office Gordon gave her. She figured it couldn't hurt to talk to someone about her ordeal in Blackgate. From her experience in high school with her father, she knew she couldn't keep her feelings bottled up. It was unhealthy for not only her but everyone she cared about. And that scene she caused when Bruce tried giving her his scarf…
He hadn't called her after that and Casey worried she might have screwed up their budding relationship. She hoped not. Bruce was a great guy and rather humble for being so rich. She really liked him and hoped he'd call her because she was too scared to call him.
And so she decided that whatever trauma she received from the hands of the Joker needed to be addressed lest it alienate everyone around her. In a sense, she was glad Gordon picked up on it and made the appointment for her.
"Casey Wilson?" Her head snapped up at the sound of her name being called.
"Yes?"
The doctor smiled at her. "I'm ready for you."
"Great." She stood and gathered up her things.
She entered the office. It was nicely decorated with degrees posted on the walls and bookshelves filled with medical books and a large, neat desk. She sat down on a plush leather couch and across from her the doctor took a seat on a matching chair.
The doctor smiled at her, his bright blue eyes boring into hers. "My name is Doctor Jonathan Crane." He flipped open a notebook and took the cap off his pen. "Let's begin."
-x-
And that concludes chapter seventeen! Fun fact, banks really don't allow you to take large withdrawals. Anything ranging from $8,000-$10,000 and up gets reported to the IRS. And if you close your account that has a high amount, you get a check and not the cash since most banks don't have all that money on hand. Just something I found really interesting.
And there is a restaurant in New York that sells a Kobe strip steak for $350. And I thought $20 for a steak was a lot.
So Casey and Bruce's relationship is moving forward but now she's tracking down her former boss. Perhaps her promise to keep her nose out of trouble is going to be harder to keep!
Reviews, favorites, and follows are love! See ya in chapter eighteen!