My Darling Phantom

Chapter twenty-one

Hey Guys, so here is the next chapter !!! I hope you enjoy and please comment!!!

Third Person P.O.V

The pair of them stood in the bedroom staring at each other. It was clear to Mason that Bruce felt awkward whilst it was clear to Bruce that Mason was extremely confused.

"Whose room is this?" Mason finally asked. Bruce saw that the wardrobe door was open with Jennifer's wedding dress spilling out. It was painful for Bruce to look at it. He remembered walking her down the aisle as though it was yesterday, and now she is dead. It was the fact that they couldn't even tell Mason that his own wife was dead, just made it all the worst to handle.

"You shouldn't be in here." Bruce stated. It was too painful for him to be in there. He hadn't been in this room since the news report on New Year's Eve. Mason looked back at the dresses then back at Bruce.

"Bruce, I need to know whose room this is." Mason told him, he had to. It was driving him up the wall. Bruce looked away from him, shaking his head.

"You really shouldn't be in here Mason."

"I know her. Clearly since I'm in most of the photos with her. Who is she?" Mason questioned him further. Bruce came further into the room and slid the door of the wardrobe shut.
"Mason, you know what Diane said." He began as he was beginning to get annoyed.
"Yes that you can't tell me anything till I at least know how I'm connected to the person. But she is everywhere. I see her in more memories than I care to count yet I don't know who she is." Mason exclaimed. Bruce was the first person to know of this. Bruce was taken aback to hear this but the wound from her death was still too fresh for him.
"So you know that we can't tell you anything till you at least know her name or something about her. Now if you don't mind. I need you to leave this room." Bruce told him firmly. Mason gave a groan before storming out.
As he stormed into the lift he just missed Tony who had came out of it. The doors pinged shut before anything could be said.
"What happened there?" Tony asked as he saw Bruce come out of Jennifer's room. Bruce looked drained from the conversation.
"He went in Jen's room." He stated. Tony sighed knowing exactly what will of happened,
"He's confused now isn't he." Bruce nodded,
"He knows her face but can't put a name to it. I don't think he knows who she really Is." It broke Tony's heart to see Bruce looking the way he was. He just looked broken, as though he couldn't bear seeing Mason not knowing who his wife was. Mason not knowing who Bruce's own niece was.
"He'll remember Bruce. It just might take time is all." He said in an attempt to comfort Bruce.
"That is what worries me. What will happen when he finally remembers who she is and we have to tell him that she is dead." He explained. The pain was clear in his voice as he said this.
"We don't know she's dead Bruce...."
"BUT SHE COULD BE! There has been no contact in two months. She told Mel that she didn't think she would love after new year! What else am I to think Tony?!" He was starting to get angry. He took some deep breaths to try to calm down, however he did say what the whole team were thinking.
"You know jen Brucey. She always has a plan up her sleeve. Just give her time."

As soon as the doors pinged opened for the studio floor,  Mason stormed put the lift to the nearest canvas. He was going to find out her name. He needed to know who she was.
He took the large blank canvas and put on the stand, he then put on some loud music, then started sketching the first thing he could think of when it came to her.
The memory that came to him was one of the first few he had of her. It was a strange one (well strange as in normal.)
They were dancing, samba dancing. He was terrible at it at first but she helped him improve throughout the dance. What he remembered the most was the music and her green eyes. What confused him was that in his memories she never has one definite eye colour.
He swished his paint brush this way and that till he had finally finished. It was a portrait of her slightly looking away whilst looking like she was laughing. It made him smile until he realised that it didn't provoke him to remember her name. He groaned before moving the canvas to the side and started on a fresh one.
The second one he took more time over. The memory was more gentle, sweet almost. She was in a park in a soft yellow sundress, it was windy so she held her hand as she held a picnic basket in the other.
The music he played matched the scene he was painting.
When finished, he saw a soft impressionist scene of her standing just off centre. He smiled once more but still no name came to him.
It was clear that this was going to be harder than he thought. He was determined to keep up with the paintings till the name finally came. No matter how long it took.