"Mr. Wayne, I didn't expect to see you here," Dr. Shorts's voice was filled with audible surprise.
Truly, Bruce had not expected to see himself at an occasion like this either. It had been a spur of the moment decision- impulsive.
Every year, Gotham University's School of Medicine held a banquet at the university's ballroom to celebrate the scholarships gifted to students by the corporate and philanthropist giants of Gotham City.
While Thomas Wayne had certainly been dragged through the mud the last year, the school was unwilling to part with their most generous scholarship donors (though the scholarship had been renamed The Wayne Scholarship), and as every year, Bruce had been invited.
He'd never gone. There had never been a true need to attend...but it seemed curiosity and intuition had got ahold of him.
He was curious to find her again, and his intuition told him she would be here.
Alfred had been quite pleased when Bruce asked him to RSVP for the occasion. He'd dug up one of Bruce's finer suits, a black Armani three piece and laid out a burgundy tie and pocket square.
"It excites me to see you taking a role in this community, Master Wayne, one that does not require you to beat the living daylights out of men in alleyways."
The sentiment had almost made Bruce snort.
Dr. Shorts was a balding man with russet colored skin, dark, almost black eyes, and a short white beard he kept neatly trimmed. He wore a gray suit paired with a white dress shirt and a salmon-colored tie and pocket square to match.
"I was invited," Bruce replied, simply.
"Yes, of course," Dr. Shorts let out a nervous chuckle. "But you don't seem to be a fan of these sort of things." Adding quickly, "From what I've been told, of course."
Bruce nodded. "I thought it would be nice to see what the Wayne Foundation's scholarship has provided."
"I can assure you the medical school is quite grateful for the scholarship, as are we at the hospital," Dr. Shorts added. "While many who receive the scholarship choose to leave Gotham for Metropolis or some far-off city, there are those who stay and pay their efforts forward...Dr. Flores is an excellent example."
"Will Dr. Flores be here, tonight?" A pause. "I am curious to ask her about the Wayne Foundations role in her schooling." Bruce added quickly, as to not seem too eager about the woman herself.
"Oh, yes. Dr. Flores remains an avid attendee of all of the School of Medicine's events. I am here, because I was invited, being the director of the hospital and all, but Dr. Flores is here because, well, everybody just likes her that much."
And as if on cue, Bruce saw her from the corner of his eye. She had to have just arrived. He'd arrived ten minutes before his conversation with Dr. Shorts, and he'd been scanning the room for her.
Her brown hair cascaded around her face in curls, ending just below her chest. She wore a black, knee length sheath dress with sleeves ending just below her elbows but above her wrists. Her mouth, a pretty shade of red, was stretched wide in a smile, her eyes crinkled, as she greeted people throughout the room, making small talks.
Bruce had not even noticed Dr. Shorts was speaking to him still. "...and that, Mr. Wayne, is why I think it is imperative that the hospital and the Wayne Foundation work together, diligently, to create change in Gotham's underprivileged neighborhoods. So... what do you think?"
Bruce opened his mouth to respond when she began her approach.
He unconsciously straightened.
"Dr. Shorts," Anya greeted. "Sorry I'm late. The train was a nightmare."
He looked at her forehead. The scar scab had fallen away leaving a white line in its place. Her bruised cheek was yellowing. Her tooth was still chipped. Bruce wondered how she'd been able to explain it. Surely, someone had asked. There had been no police report filed. Gordon at Gotham P.D. told him whenever the Batman was mentioned by a victim or witness.
Anya turned to Bruce. "Mr. Wayne, how pleasantly surprising. I didn't expect to see you here."
"Funnily enough, you aren't the first person to say that to me tonight."
Neither had Dr. Shorts. Everyone, including the university's president had been "pleasantly surprised" (their words), though Alfred had, indeed, RSVP'd.
She'd called him Mr. Wayne. Had they not agreed to be on a first name basis?
"So, what are we talking about, gentlemen?"
Luckily, Dr. Shorts, ever the talker, began explaining the conversation Bruce had not been entirely tuned in for. "I was telling Mr. Wayne about the importance of the Wayne Foundation's relationship with the hospital. The change we could bring in the communities, through mobile clinics in underprivileged areas of Gotham. We could provide vaccine clinics, and cancer screenings. Think of all the lives we could save."
Anya's eyes flickered to Bruce, and there wasn't the happiness he'd seen when addressing the others in the room or even addressing Dr. Shorts only minutes before. There was something there... suspicion perhaps? Judgement more likely.
"And what was Mr. Wayne's response?"
Dr. Shorts opened his mouth to reply, when a man from the other side of the room called for him. Dr. Shorts's face lit up. "Old friend, haven't seen him in ages. I must dash. Excuse me."
Once again, Bruce and Anya had been abandoned with only each other's company.
Anya leveled him with her gaze. "And what was Mr. Wayne's response?" She repeated.
"I had not given one."
"It seems an obvious choice, don't you think." It wasn't a question.
"I'm not sure."
She snorted, eyes rolling. Bruce's eyebrows furrowed.
"And what does that mean?" He demanded.
Anya stepped closer. They were in a corner of the ballroom with no one around. Nobody would have heard her even if she were several feet back. He imagined she'd stepped forward for the theatrics, which, to his surprise, he did not really mind.
"I'm not sure you want to know what it means," She replied, simply. Defiantly.
"I think I would like to know, yes. What does that mean?" he repeated.
"It means, Bruce Wayne, you have done..." She sucked in a breath, then began. "About zero things for yourself. You ride off the coattails of the philanthropy and corporation your father set in motion. You are the prince of Gotham, but this might as well be the French Revolution with how useless our city's royalty has become. Citizens are tired of eating cake. This city craves change, action, and unless the prince of Gotham can provide that... prepare yourself for the guillotine."
Bruce stood stunned. Her words reminded him uncannily of the Riddler's but no- she'd told him or rather the Batman, he was the only real change in the city. If he had not been so shocked by her words, he would have mused at the irony: the Batman and Bruce Wayne, the same person, yet so different. Anya thought the Batman was change, but Bruce...
"Did you compare me to King Louis?" He finally asked. It seemed a lame question, but he wanted to know.
She smiled, a small, amused one, shaking her head. "Not Louis... Marie Antionette more like it. Let them eat cake. Though, there's no actual proof she did say that."
Not much better.
"Are you two still talking?" Dr Shorts's voice seemed booming, interrupting their stare off.
When had Anya managed to get even closer? He was looking down at her. He could practically feel her breath.
"Yes," Bruce responded, stepping back. "We are having the most interesting conversation. Right, Dr. Flores?"
Anya bobbed her head. "Yes, we are."
Dr. Shorts clapped his hands. "Look at them." He looked pointedly at the couples joining the dance floor. "You should join them."
Anya shook her head. "I am a terrible dancer."
"Ditto."
"Excellent. You can be terrible together. Please, I insist. Make an old man happy, will ya?"
***
Bruce Wayne was not a terrible dancer, which meant he was a liar.
Anya let herself be led across the ballroom's dance floor. The orchestra played something light.
Bruce's mind was seemingly elsewhere, and Anya's eyes were examining his face.
His eyebrows were pulled together in deep thought.
The irises of his eyes were blue, but somehow the black of his cornea seemed to engulf them.
His lips were pressed in a thin line, but his jaw was not tight, so she concluded he could not still be too angry at her criticism.
Below his lip, a subtle scar. One would have to be insanely close to see it. She wondered what it could be from.
She had been unfair.
Bruce had done something for the city: he'd helped in the rebuilding of Gotham General and from what he'd said at the press conference, seemed more than willing to participate in the rebuilding of the entire city need be.
And frankly, it wasn't his fault he'd been born a Wayne.... but Anya didn't fault him for being a Wayne. She faulted him for being a Wayne and doing absolutely nothing with the title.
He brooded. He was notorious for it. Instead of using his money, his skills (whatever those may be) for the greater good of Gotham, he chose to be a hermit.
She could see why the Riddler wanted to kill him.
She didn't necessarily agree with killing him, but she could see the appeal.
"You think very poorly of me." Bruce finally broke the silence. He spun her.
"I think very poorly of those who have the power to do something but don't." Anya looked up at him then to their joined hands as he spun her out then brought her back in. Without looking him in the eye, she added, "However, I do not think too poorly of you. You have time to change. I can see you doing something big for this city." She looked up. Her eyes were sincere.
They continued their dance and as it concluded, Bruce dipped her.
They stayed in that position momentarily. So close.
"You know, money isn't everything."
She smirked. "Funnily enough, I've never heard that sentiment from anyone who's money could not buy them everything."
***
"The Batman; he is exactly what's wrong with Gotham. An example of why I left truly" The man who'd introduced himself as Dr. Hortence, proclaimed.
"I think he's brilliant," Anya responded. "At least he's trying."
"He's sticking his nose where it doesn't belong," Dr. Hortence argued.
"And I don't blame him for it. This city has been corrupted for years. He's giving the citizens of Gotham hope."
They were seated for the banquet's dinner. There was no arranged seating, and Dr. Shorts had insisted he sit with Anya and the other former student attendees. Bruce sat to Anya's left.
Dr. Hortence was a short man with freckled skin, ginger hair, and big green eyes hidden behind wide, thick lensed glasses. He reminded Bruce inexplicably of the middle sibling chipmunk from the popular cartoon he'd watched as a child.
Though from Gotham, he'd chosen to take his residency in Chicago at one of the country's best hospitals, and he would not let anyone forget it. He'd talked of the hospital every chance he got, until finally, Dr. Nabeel, a Gotham General resident, clearly fed up with the brags, had brought up the Batman.
Of course, Dr. Hortence had to have strong opinions on that too. Though Bruce had to admit, he did like watching Anya defend his (The Batman's) honor.
Dr. Hortence gave Anya a look; one that said: you are stupid, and I am so much smarter than you.
"A bat does not inspire fear in the hearts of men."
"He doesn't have to inspire fear," Anya argued. "He inspires hope. You will be surprised to know, Dr. Hortence, that hope is a much more powerful thing than fear."
Dr. Hortence gave Anya a pitying look. "Oh, Anya. How sweet. Next thing you know, you'll be defending Santa Claus's existence" He laughed. Nobody laughed with him. Still, he continued, "It will do you well to let go of this... for lack of a better word, girlish, immature idea of hope and optimism. You are attempting to be a surgeon after all. Not much room for hope in the operating room, aye, Dr. Shorts?"
Dr. Shorts winced.
Bruce watched Anya's jaw clench with each word. If he were a different man- he really wished he was at the moment- he would have knocked Horace's slightly crooked glasses off his slightly crooked face, perhaps giving him a slightly crooked nose in the process.
"Did we not go to the same medical school, Bernie? I think you forget I was top of the class. I graduated cum laude, and you well..." She paused. A sickly-sweet smile full of mirth appeared on her lips as she stared the man down. "Passed. What's the old saying? 'What do they call the last in a med school's graduating class? Doctor.'"
"I am a resident at the top surgical facility in the country!"
Anya nodded, feigning sincerity. "And I'm sure it was incredibly hard to get in when your daddy's name is on the hospital's board of fucking directors." She stood up. "Excuse me, gentlemen."
Nobody spoke. Bruce was, dare he say, impressed.
He tried to compare the woman he'd seen tonight to the woman he'd met before. Sure, he hadn't spoken to her much those times, but there had been hints of this fiery personality. Her sarcasm had shined brightly in their other encounters.
He liked it.
"So emotional," Dr. Horace said, finally. "A terrible example for women in this field."
Bruce stood up, walking in the direction Anya had gone.
He was soon out of the ballroom and onto the university's campus.
"Dr. Flores!" He called out.
She stopped.
Bruce quickly caught up to the woman.
"Can I interest you in a ride home?"
"I doubt I'm on your route."
"I don't mind."
Anya looked up at the man. Her face was flush with anger.
"I take the train home."
"At this hour?"
Anya gave him a look. "Yes, at this hour." She replied, defensively.
"I can walk you to the station."
She opened her mouth to speak.
"I would like to discuss how the Wayne Foundation, and myself, for that matter, can be of more use to the city. That's what you want, isn't it?"
Anya pursed her lips. She examined Bruce's face, searching for sincerity.
It was the truth... partially. Mostly, Bruce wanted to make sure she got home safe, but he also liked the idea of being able to fulfill the needs of the citizens of Gotham.
Because Anya had been right.
While Bruce could don a cowl and cape, fighting crime at night, he could be doing more on the daytime front of things. While the Wayne Foundation had its money in many different charities, they were not charities Bruce had personally chosen. Anya had been right again: they were hand selected by his father. Pledging the money for the hospital had been the first thing Bruce had suggested to the board of the Wayne Foundation himself. They had been surprised to see Bruce at the meeting and not Alfred. They'd become use to Alfred as Bruce's "spokesperson." He owed Alfred his life for all he'd done for him, personally and work wise. He made a mental note to give his butler a nice two week, all paid expense trip. Not that Alfred was likely to take it, but it was the thought that counts.
"You can walk with me." Anya decided.
***
"I agree with Dr. Shorts. Mobile clinics would be excellent for many neighborhoods. We could promote STD screenings and pregnancy tests. Cancer screenings and even vaccination drives. We have seen an increase in teen pregnancies in Gotham, and I believe proper sex ed will make a significant change. Not to mention, cancer screening are ridiculously priced which causes delays for many experiencing symptoms. Most people do not have insurance, because insurance is not as important as putting food on the table for their children." Anya spoke passionately, Bruce was sure her enthusiasm could and would inspire many.
Not only had Bruce walked her to the station, but he'd also gotten on the train and made the thirty-minute journey to the next station. He'd been entranced.
They were now walking down the barely lit streets, Anya explaining the importance of affordable healthcare access to underprivileged communities.
Bruce listened, intensely, nodding and adding comment when necessary.
"Not to mention dental care. Dental care has become a privilege many in Gotham can't afford. I know there have been many cases of at home tooth extractions that end up in Gotham General."
"Your tooth is chipped," Bruce observed.
"Yes. I, um...fell."
Bruce cocked an eyebrow. "Is that why you're face is bruised? You fell?"
She nodded.
As they drew closer to Anya's apartment, she stopped. "Thank you for walking with me, Mr. Wayne. I hope you will take our talk into consideration the next time you are planning on meeting with the Wayne Foundation's board."
"I will, Dr. Flores." Her apartment was at least a block away, he knew. "Thank you." He turned to walk back to the station. He made it to the end of the street, he turned back to watch Anya's figure become tinier and tinier till finally she entered her apartment building.
Bruce made his way back to the train station, mind occupied with thoughts and ideas.
_______________________________________________________________________
Author's Note: Hi. Here is Chapter Five. I am currently working on Chapter 6 and 7. Ever since I saw The Batman, I've come up with so many fanfiction ideas. I used to write fanfiction when I was younger, but I kinda gave up the hobby till I saw The Batman. I really want to get this fanfiction better established before I write the others, but I'm really inspired to do a femme fatale OC (think Nikita from the tv show Nikita) for my next The Batman fanfic. I think it'll be a nice contrast from this fanfiction which contains a fluffier plotline. Chapter 6 will be up soon. Thanks for reading! Make sure to heart this chapter and add it to your library, as always! - C