PRESENT DAY
There were very few times in Bruce's life when he could remember being so genuinely startled that he felt numb.
It was a foreign feeling. Not only as Batman— the man who could predict it all— but also as Bruce Wayne, the playboy billionaire who took everything in stride and rolled with the punches.
Right now, there was too much to think about. Too much to dissect, too much to unpack. That was probably a first for Batman and Bruce Wayne, too.
As his breath fanned out against the chilly air, Bruce decided that the best course of action was just to not think about anything at all.
This was evident because, if Bruce had even been remotely thinking in any way, he wouldn't be currently waltzing through the streets of Metropolis, still wearing a tux, cheeks stained in red lipstick no matter how hard he had tried to scrub it off in the bathroom mirror, and car keys discarded on some table back at the gala, effectively leaving him without a ride.
A few passersby gave him some odd looks, but anyone who was brave enough to be out past dusk in a big city knew better than to ask questions. He paid no mind to them.
To make it all somehow worse (Bruce doubted that was even possible at this point, though he dared the universe to try), he tipped his head up and glanced at the sky. It was clear and a brilliant shade of midnight purple, with a full moon, stars that were bright and blinking and shiny like everything always seemed to be in stupid, irritatingly perfect Metropolis—
Bruce scoffed out loud. He really needed to stop testing the universe, seeing that he ended up in situations such as these far too often for his liking.
Sometime later, he found himself in front of the entrance of the subway. At this point, his phone was going off every three seconds. He was tempted to just ditch it, but, even though he was currently going through what was most likely another mid-life crisis, he still wasn't that stupid.
He jogged down the stairs to the subway, brisk enough for people to not truly recognize his face. Bruce slid over the subway turnstiles with a grace he'd learned not from being a caped crusader but from when he was seventeen, and not because he couldn't afford to pay the fee, but simply because he didn't have the patience to wait to insert a coin.
As he walked to find the train he was looking for, he hid his face in the shadows of the station, which was surprisingly a little more difficult when you take away the all-black Kevlar suit and cowl, but Bruce never minded a challenge.
He situated himself on a bench towards the wall opposite the train tracks. Bruce went over the subway maps in his head— now those were from his early days as Batman.
Take line four from New Troy to Hamstead, and switch to line seven at Lafayette all the way to the Central Business District.
He leaned back against the cold, cement wall, exhaling deeply through his nose and allowing himself a moment to close his eyes.
Nope. Immediate mistake.
He should've kept walking, he suddenly realized. Because if he was walking, then he was constantly distracted, constantly keeping himself occupied— but if he sat in silence, focused on his breathing and his thoughts, then he was going to start thinking and Bruce would rather get hit by the train than do that—
"Bruce?"
His eyes snapped to his right.
A figure stood there. All black clothing: an oversized hoodie, cargo pants, boots, and backpack. He couldn't make out their face, or the frame of their body. Seemed short, about 5'8, voice sounded feminine. They didn't pose a threat, he concluded.
The figure reached up and pulled back the hoodie. Out popped a mane of blonde, curly hair, blue eyes, and a jaw that was basically dropped to the floor.
"Stephanie," he greeted flatly.
The girl rapidly glanced back and forth between him and the phone in her hand. "Bruce? I— what— what are you—!"
He hushed her when other heads in the station started to turn in their direction.
She stepped closer to him, realizing her mistake, but just barely. Stephanie typically didn't care for societal norms much, anyway.
"Brucewhatthehellareyoudoinghere?!" she sharply whispered all at once. She looked down at her phone again. "You're, like, all over every news outlet on the planet! You're... you're trending on Twitter! You're... getting married? To... Meredith Elias? What is—"
"Sit down," Bruce spoke under his breath, keeping his back firmly against the wall so his head was just out of the light.
The girl rushed to drop her backpack and sit next to him. Her face looked frantic. "What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?"
"I was just in the neighborhood."
"Doing what?"
She hesitated. "This isn't about me, Bruce." He watched her take in the sight of his outfit. Her features contorted into slightly horrified ones. "Oh my God." She slapped the forearm. "Why are you wearing—? Wait."
Stephanie checked her phone once more. Her eyes widened. "Do not tell me you're coming from the literal gala right at this very second!"
He trained his gaze back on the tracks. "Okay. I won't tell you that."
Her jaw was on the floor once again.
"Oh my— Jesus Christ..." she trailed off as she bent over and unzipped her backpack. She pulled out a larger black hoodie and shoved it into his lap. "Put this on right now!"
He studied the clothing. "Why do you—?"
"Don't ask questions." She shoved it toward him again. "Are you out of your mind? You're about to ride the subway back into Gotham City as Bruce Wayne in a full tux that probably cost more than my college tuition? Are you looking to get robbed?"
He tugged the sweatshirt over his head and then gave her a pointed look.
She rolled her eyes. "Well, I know that they wouldn't be able to successfully rob you, but they don't!"
He simply crossed his arms.
"Why are you here, Bruce?" she tried again, voice now more controlled compared to the previously frazzled one. "Shouldn't you be leaving the big, fancy ball with your sexy, billionaire fiance hanging off of your arm?"
"She's not my fiance."
Stephanie suddenly nodded in understanding, as if she'd finally figured out the entire situation. "Ohhhh, okay. So... you guys are eloping?"
"Now arriving: track four northbound to Hamstead," the computerized voice announced.
Bruce stood up, hearing the train's brakes squealing in the distance. "I didn't propose."
"Didn't... what?"
The train flew into the station, filling his ears with the whistling wind. He started walking towards the opening doors.
Stephanie was immediately at his side two beats later, backpack slung over her shoulder. "How's that even possible, Bruce? Everyone online is raving about your mother's ring. I have the pictures from the Kat Grant segment right here!"
He entered the train, spotting two open seats right at the end. Evidently, he was going to be having company with him, whether he liked it or not. He pulled the hood of the sweatshirt over his head and sat down.
The train lurched forward right as Stephanie set her backpack between her feet.
"She stole it," Bruce said.
The girl reeled back in confusion.
"Stole it? How?"
Bruce finally did exactly what he was trying to avoid— he started thinking about the question that had been bouncing around in the back of his mind. And— fuck. His mind, ever the detective, was eager to give him an answer.
"The Halloween party."
A pause.
"She stole it at the Halloween party?"
He hummed.
"And then took the ring and... what? Put in on her finger to show off at the gala to make it seem like you guys were engaged?"
He hummed again.
"That's... that's crazy, Bruce!"
He watched the steel walls blur by. "Mhm."
"But... why? It's not like she'd want to marry you for the money, the woman's already stupid rich."
"Because Meredith's fucking crazy," he muttered. "That's why."
He could feel her shift back in her seat. "Geez." A pause. "And I thought I had romance issues. At least I've never tried to con a guy into being with me."
They fell into silence for a long while.
"If it makes you feel any better," Stephanie started. "Hashtag 'Breredith' just went from number three to number two on Twitter. And, I know this is probably not the time, but the pictures of you guys that TMZ just put out are so good." The girl chuckled lighty. "Like, Bruce. You've gotta see— I mean, come on. You guys are literally eating in every one of these."
Bruce scrunched his face. "There weren't even photographers allowed in the venue."
"What?"
"How could there be pictures of us eating?"
Silence.
Stephanie burst out into laughter, and Bruce didn't bother to think about why.
"Now arriving at: Lafayette Station."
"I was gonna take this all the way to Burnside," Stephanie said. "But... I have a feeling I'm gonna have a lot more fun at the Manor instead."
Bruce stood up, shoving his hands into the pockets of the dark hoodie.
"Unfortunately."
* * *
It was clear that Dick was out of options, considering he was reduced to refreshing his Twitter feed every three seconds to get updates on his father's whereabouts.
"Apparently, he wasn't seen walking out of the party with Meredith," Dick said. "Are you sure you can't get a location on him?"
"I already told you, Dickwad. No," answered Jason, who was currently focused on whatever he was doing on his phone. "And I also don't care, so leave me alone."
"Have you even looked?" Dick asked again.
There was no response.
Dick scoffed. "You're no help."
"I never said I was trying to be."
"You—"
A phone suddenly rang in the background.
Dick turned to see Alfred— who had been so silent this entire time that it was borderline concerning— picking up his cell phone. He held it to his ear. Dick furrowed his brows.
"Gregory," Alfred answered.
Even Jason's head snapped up for that.
"I would ask you how you are," the butler spoke into the device. "But I am sure I already know the answer to that."
"Ooooh, the in-laws." Jason sang quietly, shutting the laptop. "And the drama ensues."
Dick crossed his arms. "I thought you didn't care about Bruce's problems?"
Jason shushed him sharply, turning his attention back to Alfred.
The older man gave them both a pointed glare. "Yes, I know— I understand, Sir, I— no, I had no knowledge of any of this. I was still under the impression that he planned to go with a different woman. Currently, I know only as much as you do."
A pause.
"No," Alfred said. "I have no idea of his location at the moment— I'll update you when I do. Yes, I know, Sir. Perhaps it's a miscommunication, I—"
The butler paused, eyed Dick and Jason, sighed, and left the room. His voice faded down the hallway.
Dick slid his hands down his face. "This is actually ridiculous. Bruce hasn't gone off the rails like this since—"
"Since I died?"
"Well... I— not where I was going with that, but—"
Jason popped open a bag of chips that had been left on the counter. He shrugged. "Maybe this is another 'Talia Al Ghoul, drug you and force you to have my child,' kinda thing."
Dick frowned. "Meredith doesn't seem like the type to want children."
"Good point."
Dick opened his phone again. "In other news, 'Breredith' just reached number one on Twitter. So, there's that, I guess."
"God," Jason groaned, crumbs falling from his mouth as he munched on the chips. "She definitely lied to me— he's totally fucked her. There's no way!"
Dick looked up with deep-set brows. "What do you mean she—"
"I mean, when you're gonna have sex with a chick, you've gotta ask the usual two questions: one, are you on the pill, and two, have you ever been arrested for murder—"
"—No, wait, Jason, hang on—"
"—but, me? I've gotta ask a third: have you ever slept with my adoptive father before? And guess what? More often than not, the answer's yes!"
"But what do you mean that she—"
"Like, Christ, do you know how hard it is to find a hot woman on this coastline who that asshat hasn't stuck his wang in?"
"Jason!"
"What?"
"What do you mean she lied to you?"
"Oh. That." Jason shoved another handful of chips in his mouth. "Yeah, when I saw her stealing the ring from the safe, I asked her if they were fucking and she said no. Total bull, though, right? There's no way she's literally marrying him and she hasn't even sucked him off at least once."
"Jason! What the hell?!"
"I know, right? Women in this city act like that guy's penis is crack cocaine."
Dick was speechless for a few moments.
Jason continued munching on the chips.
"Okay." Dick finally organized his jumbled thoughts. "I'm going to ignore most of what you just said. You saw her stealing the ring?"
"Yeah."
"And why didn't you say anything?!"
"Listen, if he wants to fuck Meredith Elias while dressed as a giant bat, that's his own, creepy, beastality-esque business. Not mine."
Silence.
"Oh my God."
Suddenly, the doorbell sounded throughout the Manor.
"I'll get it!" Dick called down the hall, just in case Alfred was still on the phone.
"No," Jason hissed, getting off of the barstool and shoving Dick aside. "I'll get it."
Dick caught himself on the edge of the counter. "Again, I thought you didn't care about Bruce's drama."
Jason started down the hallway and Dick quickly caught up.
"I don't," Jason said. "But I do like pissing him off. And do you know how much more pissed he's gonna be when he sees—"
They stopped in the foyer and Jason tugged open the large front doors.
"...me," Jason finished, frowning at the figure who stood at the entrance to the house. "Who the fuck are you?"
Dick rolled his eyes. "Hi, Devin."
The eldest Elias sibling frantically pushed Jason aside and stalked into the Manor. "Where is he?"
"We have no idea," Dick said, watching the man start to wander into the living area.
"Has he absolutely lost his mind?!" Devin asked as he entered the kitchen. "Like, I tell him to stay away from Meredith. That's all I asked! And what does he do? Make her a member of the Justice League, tell her that he's Batman, and marry her?!"
They all stopped in the middle of the kitchen. Dick really had no words of comfort to offer the man— it truly was just a messy, confusing, situation— heavy on the messy.
"And where is my sister?!" Devin threw his hands up in exasperation. "My dad is gonna flip."
"Yeah..." Dick trailed off. "I think Alfred's on the phone with him right now, actually."
Devin ran his hands down his face. "Ohmygodddd. And somehow, someway, I'm gonna get blamed for this. Just you watch!"
"I'm sorry," Jason interjected. "I still have no idea who you are."
Devin glanced at him. "Devin Elias. And who are you?"
"Jason."
"Jason? Wasn't one of Bruce's kids named that?"
"Yeah, that was me. Got my soul snatched by the Joker and resurrected by a bunch of ninjas."
Devin blinked.
"I had some pretty wild teenage years." Jason shrugged.
Suddenly, Dick's phone was vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. He nodded to the other men. "It's Tim. I'll catch up with you guys in a sec."
Dick stepped down the hallway to answer the call, the sounds of a confused Devin interrogating a bemused Jason fading into the distance.
"Hey," Dick spoke quietly.
"Dick!" Tim's voice came across the line. "Tell me you've seen the news."
"Yeah, we've all seen it."
"I... God, what the hell?!"
"I know. Listen, Tim, can you get a trace of Bruce's location?"
"He's not with you?"
"No. Didn't leave the gala with Meredith, either, from the looks of it. He's kinda AWOL right now."
"Oh, uh, yeah, sure, give me a minute."
There were the sounds of hushed chatter in the back— the rest of the Titans, no doubt. Tim was currently in San Francisco with them, celebrating his belated birthday.
The way Tim spoke was low, most likely to stay out of earshot of his nosey teammates. "Dick, I— ugh. I'm the biggest idiot ever."
"What?"
"C'mon. The second you saw the news you can't tell me you weren't thinking the same thing."
"That Bruce is losing it with old age?"
"No! That, I mean— I... I don't know. It's just pretty obvious to me that Meredith only hired me to get closer to Bruce."
"Hey," Dick spoke softly. "You know that's not—"
Dick paused. His immediate instinct was to console his younger brother, who was very smart and definitely deserving of his position at Elias Incorporated, in Dick's educated opinion. But, then again, he thought he'd had a pretty good grasp on Meredith, too, and look where that ended up.
"Listen," Dick said. "We don't even know what's going on. We have no idea where anyone is, no one knows what happening, so maybe if we could just find Bruce then we can start to get some information and—"
"Yeah, his signal's coming through now. He's... apparently at the Manor?"
"What?"
At the same time, Alfred briskly walked past Dick and into the kitchen.
Dick pressed the phone back to his ear. "Hey, just retrace that for me and make sure it's accurate. I'll call you back in a little— stay close to your phone."
"Yeah, sure thing."
He ended the call and followed the butler back toward the other two men.
"Master Devin," Alfred greeted.
The Florida billionaire turned around, seeing Alfred walk back into the room.
"Alfred!" Devin exclaimed. "I just dropped off Laney and Adeline at my parent's house and got here as fast as I could— what's going on?"
"Your..." The butler sighed. "Your father is not happy."
"Do you think they're really getting married?" Devin asked.
"I have no idea."
"I mean, she has Martha's ring, Alfred. Martha's. That's the real deal— you know Bruce isn't handing that out to just anyone."
"I know— I have absolutely, utterly zero clue what that boy was thinking. Did he assume Gregory was just going to be... thrilled? At the prospect of him marrying his daughter without so much as asking for permission?"
"Well, I mean, I agree, but he's, like forty, so he's not a boy—"
"And you think these are the actions of a man, Master Devin?"
There was no response.
"Okay. Fair point."
Alfred pressed his lips into a thin line as he always did when he was disappointed. "I thought I had raised him better than that."
"I didn't," Jason interjected. He got several glares from throughout the room, Dick included.
"No offense or anything," Jason added quickly once he noticed the butler's face.
"I—" Dick began, but was interrupted by the doors to the kitchen bursting open.
Dick looked over and, it was official. This night was definitely top three on the "biggest Wayne Family shitshows" list because in walked a soaking-wet, Stephanie Brown.
"Steph!" Dick couldn't help himself from exclaiming. The girl was on a temporary break from all Bat-related business, spending most of her time at university, so it was rare Dick ever saw her around the Manor anymore.
"Bloody hell," Alfred muttered. "Miss Stephanie, what happened?"
The girl was a little out of breath, putting her hands on her hips. "I ran into Bruce at the New Troy subway station in Metropolis. From what he told me, Meredith, like, stole the ring? I don't know how true that is, but he also thinks that she just stole it to... publically con him into marriage, I guess."
No one apparently had any response to that.
"Yeah..." Stephanie trailed off. "I dunno how accurate any of that is. He seemed pissed. And he was wearing a tux. In the subway station. It was all so weird— guys, I'll be real, I think Bruce is losing it."
While Dick was strangely relieved that Bruce didn't propose on purpose, if anything, this left him with more questions than he had before she walked in.
"Why would Meredith even want to do that?" Dick asked incredulously.
The blonde shrugged. "Beats me. I couldn't figure it out, either. Because she literally has more money than him, doesn't she? It's not like she's looking for that child support bill."
"I have known Meredith Elias for the entirety of her life," Alfred said. "And that woman does always appear to have an ulterior motive. One that typically is at the expense of Master Bruce."
"Where even is Bruce?" Dick suddenly asked, the question mostly directed at Stephanie.
"We took a cab here," the blonde said. "And... honestly, I thought he was right behind me, but—"
There was suddenly a deep, low rumbling in the distance, a sound that almost everyone in the room knew all too well. It was followed by a loud squealing, the cracks of an engine, and faded into the distance.
Stephanie tilted her head out the window where the disappearing lights of a vehicle twisted down the long road leading from the Manor.
She turned back to Dick.
"Well, that can't be good."
* * *
Paparazzi swarmed the street below, a sea of coats and umbrellas to shield them from the pelting rain. The wind was harsh— forcing his cape to spiral up into the sky, daring him to let go of the side of the building he was holding onto. The city looked minuscule from below his heavy black boot. He was hundreds of feet in the air, where he could hide in the low fog that covered the tops of the skyscrapers— up here, he was safe from... whatever was going on down there.
Batman looked out to the building directly across from him. He exhaled, his breath showing against the dark sky before quickly getting swept away into the night, tangling and getting lost in the smog.
His exposed face was bitter. It felt good but barely took the edge off of the absolute red-hot anger pooling beneath the surface of his skin. Just enough to think clearly. Mostly. That's all he needed.
The building in front of him was higher than the one he stood on. He pulled a grappling gun from his utility belt, fired it into the sky, heard the ever-familiar clink! and suddenly he was airborne.
This was the feeling that Bruce Wayne sought after in his early years. This was what he had worked so hard for— because there was no feeling, no amount of money, women, or time— that could remotely come near to how this felt, soaring across an open chasm simply because he could. Weightless. Featherlight. Free. Bruce Wayne had always wanted to be free and this was it, this was what got him into the suit and onto the streets every waking moment he could possibly be there— but not tonight.
Tonight, his body was fueled by rage. He wasn't free— he was a caged animal— he was trapped and he was angry.
He was so, violently angry that the lenses of his cowl might as well have switched from white to red. He was so angry that, as his feet hit the concrete ground of the balcony, he didn't care to make his entrance stealthy and silent. Because once he saw that woman sitting on the edge of her bed, pulling her glimmering shoes off with a face that was almost bored— like nothing was wrong in her life and everything was perfect and how dare she—
Batman grabbed the handle of the sliding door and slammed it open in one swipe, hitting the frame so forcefully that the room rattled. The rain poured in behind him, wind aggressively shrouding his body with his cape and suddenly thunder boomed across the sky, vibrating powerfully through his chest like the universe was siding with him, telling him that he was justified in his fury.
Meredith dropped the shoe from her hand with a gasp, dark hair blown back from her face.
It was silent.
"Are you in danger?" was all he could manage without completely losing every shred of sanity he had left.
"What?" she breathed.
"Are. You—" He decided to slide the door shut. Cracks riddled the glass. "In. Danger."
She eyed the damage, sat up straight, flattened out the bottom of her dress, and composed herself. Her face fell flat once again. The ends of his veins seared.
"No," she answered evenly. "I'm not in any physical danger."
He felt like ripping the hair from his head. "Are you being blackmailed?"
She blinked.
Then her jaw squared and her brows furrowed like she was annoyed and that was it, any semblance of composure that Bruce could grasp was gone because Meredith Elias knew exactly how to push him over the edge.
"No, I'm not being blackm—"
He tore the cowl from his head.
"Have you lost your fucking mind, Meredith?!" he screamed, voice bubbling up from his chest and overflowing through his lips like lava, raw and hot.
She narrowed her eyes into slits. "Will you just—"
Suddenly his hand was flying to whatever was closest to him and glass shattered across the floor.
"Bruce!" she shouted, immediately on her feet, and then the wind was flinging the door open again, a wall of rain flying through the room.
Meredith turned her head away, covering her face with her hands. She was yelling something unintelligible over the whistling of the wind, pushing him aside to try and get to the door.
He gripped her forearm, pulling her roughly towards him and Meredith's eyes were blown wide, searching his face, brows creased behind her lashes. Rainwater splattered on her cheeks, smearing her dark makeup across her temple. She tried to tug her arm back.
"Will you just—" She grunted. "Listen!"
"You are the most manipulative person I have ever met," Bruce spat. "You just lie and lie and—!"
"And you are the fool who keeps falling for it!" Meredith was immediately in his face, that CEO bite to her yell, voice cold and sharp like a knife. "Now let go!"
Bruce was unblinking, staring at her for what felt like an eternity.
Lightning cracked across the sky and the look on her face was absolutely unwavering.
Her eyes were lit up electric blue for that brief second, and then it was like all of the blistering, boiling lava overflowing from his chest suddenly receded, time restarted, and he realized what he had done.
His hair was drenched, plastered to his forehead. Water dripped from his cupid's bow and down his jaw. He released his grip from her wrist and the pale skin beneath it was an ugly, muddy maroon.
He glanced down. The floor was smeared in bright red— she'd cut her foot on the shards scattered across the dark wood.
Meredith shakily exhaled, reaching for the door handles and gently pushing them shut.
There were no sounds but the rain against the glass and her shallow breaths.
She turned to him, makeup smudged down one side of her face and hair stringy, sticking to her shoulders. She visibly swallowed, cradling her wrist. "I just— need you to— listen."
Bruce stared at the room, horror starting to settle over his body.
Meredith took a step towards her bed and then her leg buckled under her, a cry escaping from her lips.
He immediately had her in his arms. He carried her towards the bathroom, glass crunching under his boots. He placed her on the counter, sweeping her dress aside to inspect her foot.
She shoved him back. "Don't touch me."
"You've—" Meredith placed her foot in her lap, a sizable shard of porcelain wedged in her sole. She grabbed a hand towel, wrapped it around the shard, set her jaw, and pulled. Her eyes clenched shut with a painful groan, blood gushing onto the floor. "—done enough."
He held out a roll of black gauze from his utility belt, which she accepted wordlessly.
They sat in silence as she wrapped it. Bruce studied her— red lips now smudged pink and water droplets sliding down the curves of her breasts and into the valley between and that ring on her finger— his mother's ring— Martha's ring—
It was pathetic, Bruce realized. Even after everything she had done: publicly ambushing him with an engagement, pushing him over the brink of his unbreakable self-control, and just overall wreaking absolute havoc on his life over the last two months, he still took any chance he got to stare at her up close because Bruce Wayne could never seem to take his eyes off of Meredith Elias.
He forced himself to look at his reflection in the mirror behind her.
"Why?" he finally asked, crossing his arms, the rage no longer boiling over but still simmering.
They made eye contact again.
Meredith sighed. She slowly slid off of the counter and onto her feet, where she stumbled for a moment.
He reached out and she put up a hand, steadying herself on the granite.
She pushed the matted hair away from her eyes. "Just follow me."
"You shouldn't be walk—"
The businesswoman shot him a look.
And so he pressed his lips together, gesturing to the door.
There was a faint limp in her stride, but if he weren't looking for it, he wouldn't have even noticed. She led him out of her room and down the hallway into another which was clearly her office. It was dimly lit, with a large dark oakwood desk right in the center. Bookshelves lined one wall and windows lined another.
She walked to one of the shelves and pulled out a black folder, handing it to him.
He stared at her as he accepted it.
"Open," she said, and he did.
Bruce furrowed his brows at the contents, asking a wordless question.
"Lex Luthor's presidential campaign plans. I took a copy of them the last time I was in his office when he was trying to get me to endorse him."
Bruce flipped to another page, eyes slightly widening at the title.
GOTHAM CITY REHABILITATION AND EXPANSION PROJECT
"One of his primary incentives is tearing down Gotham and completely replacing it," she explained. "Of course, that's not what he's going to tell the public. He'll say something along the lines of 'rebuilding a broken city into something beautiful' or some bullshit."
"I don't understand," he muttered.
"People don't want a politician anymore, Wayne. And Lex is a businessman— Lex is a scientist. Lex is a 'visionary' with his big talk and big promises and big, shiny, fancy gadgets. There's a very good chance he'll do well in this election."
Bruce continued to flip through the pages.
"And there is no chance in hell I'm letting that man become President," she said. "Because I haven't slaved over my company and my job for years, trying to make something of this city, only for Lex Luthor to come and tear it all down."
The gears were whirring in Bruce's mind as he digested that information and came to a conclusion.
"You want a distraction," Bruce said. "So the public will focus on something else."
She nodded.
He closed the folder and dropped it to his side. "And... marriage was the only thing you could think of?!"
"We're not really getting married, idiot."
Bruce stared at her with a look that he could only describe as incredulous.
"What?" she asked, obviously irritated. "You think that I actually want to marry you because I'm sooo in love with you or something? Use your head, Wayne! We need a distraction that's going to last until he's out of the running, and no Elias Incorporated new technology announcement is going to do that. You know people have been waiting for this since we were young— this is going to be front-page news for as long as we need."
"We?" Bruce scoffed. "There's no we, Meredith! You can't just force me to put up with this— I let that first stunt about you handling League collateral slide— don't push your luck."
"Oh, you don't care about the city, then?"
"That's not—"
"I mean, I guess that's obvious. If you really cared then we'd already have a successful company merger by now, but instead, all we have is a rich kid with emotional problems running around the city at night dressed as an animal."
Meredith pushed past him.
"I do care about—"
"Oh, shut up." She reached to grab another box on one of the shelves. She pulled the lid off, tossed it on the floor, and then flipped the box over. A plume of papers crashed onto the ground, covering a large part of her office.
"Let me rephrase." Meredith's voice was even. Cold. Confident. Chilling. "You will do this for me."
Bruce glanced at the papers that had settled next to his boots. "And why the hell would I ever do that?"
She made her way through the pile, stopping when she was standing directly in front of him and pointing a finger into the symbol on his chest. "Because this? This right here? Everything you are, and everything you have is because of me. You owe me, Wayne."
"What are you even talking about?"
Her features contorted into ones of resentment. "Twenty years ago, when you had promised— and I had so stupidly believed you— that you were going to be there for me? Does that ring any bells?"
An odd, strange feeling crept across Bruce's chest. He bit into his cheek.
Meredith exhaled slowly. "But then you died. And Oliver died. And my brother was gone. And my father was dying. And the company was going to shit, and I dropped out of school to run it, and then, I realized that Wayne Enterprises was going to shit, too. And they were going bankrupt, and they have fired Lucius, and so what was I supposed to do? Huh? Just let the last thing— the only legacy left— of the boy I had loved crumble?"
Bruce's breathing was shallow, realizing where this was all going, and suddenly, that odd, strange feeling had a chokehold around his heart because this was the first time in twenty years that either of them had properly addressed this. He stared at her— looking more of a shell of Meredith Elias than anything else— sopping hair, running makeup, a nasty bruise traveling up her forearm, chest heaving and eyes teary— teary?
"So I went to Lucius and figured out a way to keep WE afloat and—" Her voice cracked, wiping at her eyes with her bruised wrist. The look in her eyes turned steely again. "I had no fucking life, Bruce. I gave up my plans, and my school, and my sanity. My company lost tons of money— millions— because I was also supporting your stupid company because I loved your parents and I loved you, and then, five years later, guess what? Shiny star of the city Bruce Wayne is back from the dead, and you know what he does?"
Bruce couldn't quite meet her eyes.
Meredith tilted her gaze to the window. He could see the reflection of the tears running down her cheeks.
"He shuts me out. Acts like I don't exist, when my company could've been lightyears ahead if I hadn't been foolishly trying to save two at once. And, if it couldn't get any worse, fifteen years later? I find out that he's been ignoring my pleas for a merger, something that I know would save the city because it was his father's idea, all because he wants to spend his time and company money on being a fucking vigilante!"
She reached down, scooped up an armful of papers, and shoved them at him.
"These are all letters back and forth between your father and mine regarding their plans for the merger," she explained, and Bruce's heart froze, staring at the handwriting that he had burned into his memory— Thomas Wayne's handwriting— his dad's handwriting.
"It's a flawless plan." Meredith snatched the papers back before he had a chance to read more. "So, when I say you will do this for me, you're going to do this for me. Because I gave up my life for you and you've treated me like absolute shit, acting like I'm an idiot and you have it all figured out, but guess what, Bruce?"
She stepped flush against his body, her breath fanning his face.
"I've been this city's savior a lot longer than you have. You. Owe. Me. This."
Bruce had always tried his hardest to keep his emotions in check, but now, as his eyes flickered back and forth between hers, his feelings were suffocating him— overwhelming and spiraling out of control faster than Bruce could reign them in— and at the forefront was rage, because he had told himself he'd never fall for Meredith's flowery speeches ever again, and yet here he was, with his heart ripped out of his chest and in her hands and guilt constricting his lungs—
He wanted to slam his fists into something and scream so loud that a city would crumble because he hated Meredith, but he had hurt her, and her wrist was turning a bloody shade of maroon from his doing and he suddenly wanted to stand there and press kisses into it and fuck she was crying— damnit why did she have to be crying— crying and telling him that she had loved him—
Seemingly all at once, every feeling came crashing down over him like a tsunami, drowning him and dragging him in a million different directions and Bruce didn't realize what he was doing before it was too late.
He stepped forward, took her face in two hands, wiping the tears and makeup away with his thumbs, and pulled her into a searing kiss.
The world around him was spinning and Meredith choked a sob into his lips and emotion absolutely exploded across his chest, wrapping one arm around her, pulling her into him, and cradling her bruised wrist with the other. His tongue pressed against hers, hot and relentless, her free hand finding its way up his neck and carding through his hair and Bruce groaned into her mouth and God his body ached in a way that it hadn't in so long—
She pulled back to take a shaky breath, a string of saliva in between their lips. Her lashes were wet, eyes glossy and blown wide.
Bruce gave into what he wanted— damn it all to hell because he'd already gone this far— and raised her wrist to his lips, peppering kissing along the damaged skin.
"And—" Kiss. "If I—" Kiss. "Say no?"
Meredith answered, voice perfectly even like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"I'll just tell the media that you're Batman."
He paused, but he wasn't surprised. Even before he had entered her apartment, he knew what the consequences were going to be.
After a long while, Bruce took a step back, the heat from in between their bodies evaporating. He stilled his face once more, pulling the cowl back over his head. He headed in the direction of the window. There was nothing more that needed to be discussed.
"I'll send you the schedule," she said.
Of course, there would be a schedule.
He pried open one of the windows and glanced back over his shoulder.
"Sorry about the mess."
With a leap into the night sky, Batman was gone.
* * *
Well... there's that. Lol. The amount of times I had to rewrite this chapter was honestly concerning, but I'm happy with how it turned out! Question for everyone: I'm considering maybe publishing a DC short story or two, just something fun and quick to write when I have the time- would anyone read them? I was thinking maybe something Jason Todd x OC ish... I honestly can't get enough of writing him, haha. Let me know! As usual, thank you all so much for almost 170k, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter!
xo Alexa