Chapter Text
On some level he knew what was happening.
He could hear it. There was a ruffling noise, like towels on a hanger whipping in the summer breeze, and the muffled yell of someone below him.
At least, he assumed they were below him. He couldn't see anyone above, but it was fairly difficult to decipher anything when the scenery changed within a second and his eyelids were half way shut.
Joker tried to blink against the burn. It only served to make it worse, much to his disdain. His lashes had a thin layer of ice on them. He always assumed that movies were over exaggerating when that happened. Who would have guessed it would happen to him?
He tried to move his hands down his body and press onto the wound on his side, but even that proved to be a difficult task. His arms kept wanting to go up against the current. Gravity was not a fan of movement in the slightest.
If he could laugh at the unfairness he would have, but his oxygen was rapidly depleting from his lungs; sucked out with every breath he took. The blood clogging his throat wasn't going to help with his situation either.
It was all happening at hyper speed. He had done this before on many occasions, and each time had been a thrill. Joker and the Batman, dancing on the rooftops in subtle steps and hard ground until a properly placed misstep where they no longer were.
That was when the air picked up on his feet. The moment when Joker roared with laughter as the Bat dropped down after him, and only him. Hands grabbed at his lapels and tugged them both back to safety.
Never before had he been bleeding out from an internal organ. He had been shot a good number of times, obviously, but it wasn't like they were fatal. It had never made him see stars and choke as the metallic flavour climbed up his throat and coated his tongue. He was never in any real danger before.
Batman was always there to save him.
While Joker was aware that he was mere seconds away from hitting the ground, it felt like hours away. He could still see the vague shapes of the movement up top. A form he recognised well - the same one that he had fought so often, with pointed ears and a swooshing cape - that he knew was not there this time around.
The persistent yelling of the other man was lost in the whipping wind, but Joker could recognise the faint noise. Any other day and he would have swung around and shot the bastard, if only to make him shut up.
That was the problem, though. Joker couldn't do that. It wasn't any other day, and it never would be again.
He spluttered when his stomach rolled against the heat of a fresh wound. His suit was stained red by that point. It wasn't even a nice outfit. He couldn't even die looking decent.
The world was really giving him a big fuck you as a goodbye present. Joker knew that he wasn't the most liked person in Gotham, but he had still hoped that his farewell would be somewhat more exciting. Maybe more fireworks.
He had imagined his death before. The Bat would swoop in amongst the crowd and carry Joker out bridal style; tears streaming down his cheeks and completely crestfallen. He would be Lost without the Joker in his life. The perfect fairytale ending for their tale. The prince and the dark knight.
Joker closed his eyes. A snowflake fell onto his cheek; burned in that way that the cold does, then soaked in like the rest of the winter air had.
At that point he was frozen to the touch. Joker knew, somewhere, that he was still clutching at his fresh injury, but he could no longer feel it. He didn't even know why he was trying. The ground would catch up before he was even close to losing enough blood for it to be a risk.
Joker had to smile. The cool night air physically ached against his teeth. Even then, he couldn't help it. If this disappearing act would help Bruce out, then he was content.
He let himself relax and listen to the harsh noise of the wind whipping passed his ears; allowed it to consume his very being. His body reacted in a full body shudder.
It was going to be the night he died.
[TWO MONTHS PREVIOUSLY - WAYNE ENTERPRISES - 9:36 A.M.]
Bruce pushed a smile up on his cheeks.
He waved at anyone greeting with the occasional answer to a question. The tie around his neck felt tight, and he resisted the urge to tug on it. Only five minutes had passed since he had entered the building and he was already having a long day. Night time couldn't possibly have come any sooner.
The last two weeks hadn't been kind, to say the very least. The Bat Signal had been up nearly every night for fourteen days, Bruce had had to show up to more conferences and events than he had in the past three months put together, and through all of that he had barely gotten over twenty hours of sleep. Luckily he had gotten decent enough with coverup from late night escapades that his eye bags - or bruises - weren't prominent. If anything, a little rest would have helped them go down more.
"If you had simply went to those meetings when you were originally supposed to three months ago you wouldn't be having this problem at all."
"Alfred, we've been over this. I was busy-"
"And now you're sleep deprived, grumpy-"
"-I'm not grumpy-"
"...and you still don't have time to get the much needed sleep your body requires. There."
Alfred patted off the shoulders of Bruce's coat and slapped away the hand moving to loosen the tie. Bruce dropped his hands to his sides and pressed his lips together.
"Don't worry about me, Al. I'll be fine."
Alfred's chest heaved with a breath. Somehow the wrinkles on his face seemed much more prominent then than they had in a while. Bruce's stomach twisted.
"I always worry about you, Bruce," Alfred added gently.
They both went silent. Other than the occasional squeak of a bat or the drip of water, neither said a word. Bruce's eyes went down to the floor. He swallowed harshly.
Eventually, Alfred cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. His fingers worked to button his own coat, then checked his watch.
"You should get on then, Master B," he suggested. "Wouldn't want to be late now, would we?"
Bruce pulled absently down at his coat sleeves. He showed Alfred a small smile. "No, we wouldn't."
"Ah, g'morning, Mr. Wayne. Good to see you again. How are you today?"
Bruce stopped his thoughts to tune to reality, and he took a deep breath. Any memory of the morning vanished to some dark hole in the back of his mind. He beamed, and turned to the man speaking with him. Albert Cunningham from the accounting department. He was a friendly person over all. A family man with two kids and a wife. Someone Bruce personally hired for the company.
"Ah, Mr. Cunningham! Good morning to you," Bruce greeted. "I'm doing well, thank you. And you?"
Albert's wrinkled face screwed up in a light hearted laugh. "Great, thanks. Just came up to get some coffee."
He lifted the cup and took a sip as he passed by. Bruce forced a half genuine chuckle and waved back at Albert, who did the same with his free hand.
Nice guy, Bruce thought to himself. He turned back around to face his office.
The moment he put his hand on the handle, the doors burst open. The suddenness of it nearly got Bruce smacked square in the nose, but he reacted quickly enough that only his foot was hit.
Someone squeaked in what sounded like surprise. Papers flew into the air and fell to Bruce's feet. He took a step back with a heavy blink. His eyes almost didn't reopen. He gave himself a small shake, clearing his head, then went to look for the source of both the noise and papers.
A woman knelt down picking up anything that had fallen. Her hair shaded her face, but her glasses slipped down her nose, which made her hand shoot up to adjust them quickly. Something like mumbling could be heard from her.
Bruce bent down. He must have startled her because when he came down to help, she gasped and flinched. Her palm pressed to her forehead, and she chuckled with a heavy awkwardness, and smiled at Bruce. He raised his brows and smiled back.
"Are you all right? I didn't mean to frighten you," he asked, searching her face.
He didn't recognise her. Odd, he thought. He knew everyone who worked for his company. It was something he always took precaution to look over.
The woman nodded and then shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, I hadn't realised anyone had been coming in and I should have slowed down and now there's this mess-"
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Bruce interrupted. He gave her a reassuring smile, which seemed to relax her some. "It's perfectly fine. Really," he added, hoping that would calm her completely.
It seemed to do the trick. She let out a heavy sigh and tucked her hand behind her ear with a much softer smile. A few people passing looked at them in confusion, but Bruce passed them off. Whoever this stranger was was more important.
"I ran into you with a door and I haven't even introduced myself," she joked lightly. The hand not clutching stray papers stuck out. "I'm Mabel Sacarello."
Taking the hand, Bruce smiled. "Bruce Wayne."
Within seconds, Mabel's eyes widened. Her mouth fell open and she pulled her hand back to cover it.
"Mr. Wayne!" she hissed, blinking away the initial shock. She looked up at the doors clearly labeled with his name and gaped more. She returned to Bruce. "Gosh, of course, I should have realised! I'm so sorry, again, I should have been paying attention-"
Bruce waited patiently this time for her to come down. He held up a placating hand after a while, and she snapped her jaw shut.
"It's fine, Ms. Sacarello. Thank you for the apology, but I assure you, it isn't needed. If anything I should be saying all of this to you for making you drop all of these papers."
He reached down to help her pick them up, and he took out a file, but her hand landed on his before he even had the chance to look at it. Bruce met her gaze in question. Mabel smiled.
"Thank you, Mr. Wayne, really, but I have it under control."
She slid the file and the last few papers into her grasp, then stood. Bruce followed only a second after. Once they were up he took the chance to get a full look over.
Mabel's hair fell over her shoulders in long, soft tufts, and guarded her face from most view. From any other angle but straight on it would be difficult to identify her. Large glasses framed her with a heavy prescription that made her eyes huge in comparison to normal, though it didn't make her any less attractive.
Bruce blinked. His eyes traveled to his office where light streamed in the large windows backing the room.
"Care to come in?" he offered.
Despite the exhaustion dragging his bones into the ground, Bruce felt the need to talk with her. His fingers were twitching in that prickling way he felt when his senses were ticking. Something was off about the whole situation. Whatever it was he had to keep an eye on her.
Mabel seemed to hesitate. She bit down on her lip, looking like she rather wanted to refuse. Her eyes even flicked to look over his shoulder towards the elevator before meeting his once more.
Bruce flashed another gentle smile. His face was starting to ache from how often he had done it today - and it was only 10:30 in the morning.
"Please," he pressed. "I insist."
He added a sharp tone to the words that made them sound almost like a command. He rarely used his CEO voice, but if any time were good to use it, then seemed like a perfectly reasonable time.
Mabel stared for a short moment. Her body twisted to walk into the office as soon as she had had enough, leaving Bruce with a heavy frown. He wiped it away as fast as he could and followed her in. He closed the doors behind them and walked passed her to indicate to his desk. She nodded and smiled tightly.
Bruce made his way over, only noticing the full coffee mug sitting on his desk when he made it over. He slowed and pointed at in question. Mabel's embarrassed laugh answered.
"Right, um... I was sort of hoping you would be here? I wanted to make a good first impression with the new boss, so, um..." She indicated to the cup then clapped her hands together when she noticed they were shaking slightly.
Bruce noted the action. He sat down in his chair - he suppressed the urge to groan out of pure relief - and watched as she took a seat across from him.
"Why thank you," he started. "That's very considerate of you." He decided not to bring up the fact that he doesn't drink coffee.
Mabel tucked her hair behind her ear again. Bruce watched with interest. A nervous tick, perhaps?
"Of course, Mr. Wayne. I try, y'know. Always nice to have someone nice on your side!" she exclaimed, smiled, then cleared her throat and looked down at her lap.
Bruce licked his lips. His hand snuck up under his desk to beep the small button located in it.
"Oh, no, please," he interjected. "Call me Bruce."
Mabel's face lit up with a sort of smile. Bruce leaned back in his seat and crossed his legs.
"Of course," said Mabel. She finally met his eyes without looking away.
Bruce humphed and rolled his shoulders back. "I'm going to assume you're you new to Wayne Enterprises then?" he questioned.
"You assume correct, s- Bruce." She blushed, and Bruce smiled. "Er- I, um, I start today, actually. I wanted to come greet you. Which, I already told you..."
Bruce locked his fingers together under his desk and squeezed. This hadn't been cleared through him. Technically it didn't have to be, but even then the board knew he liked to be informed of these things. Lucius would have told him as well. Even Alfred would have been able to tell him, seeing as he had been watching the computers back in the cave all this time.
Just as he was about to bring this up, Mabel continued on, seeming nervous under the sudden silence. Bruce realised he must have gone quiet for too long. He'd been told he had to work on that.
"...an intern though. I'm just working with this until I can make my way through college."
Bruce tilted his chin up in interest. An unpaid internship, of course. Without actually being an employee for the company there was no way she would be registered under the Bat computer's analysing systems.
Even then, something felt wrong. Being an intern, he supposed bringing coffee for the boss on the first day made sense, but hadn't anyone told her that he hadn't shown up lately? And how big was the coincidence that she started on the same day he spontaneously decided to come back?
Bruce beamed and pushed himself up to stand again. Mabel made a cooing sound and copied the movement.
"It was very nice meeting you, Ms. Sacarello. I'm glad to have you on the team. Unfortunately, I have important paperwork I need to get to right now, but if you ever need to ask a question or want to hit me with a door again, please, feel free."
He made his way around the desk to stand next to it, and Mabel forced herself to laugh at what she assumed was a joke. She nodded. Her hair fell back forward. Once more, she shook hands with him.
"Thank you, Bruce," she said. "I'll be sure to stop by if I need anything."
Her hand dropped, and she took to holding the files again. Almost protectively. Bruce put that in the front of his brain.
He nodded shortly and waved as she exited the office. Mabel turned to smile over her shoulder before closing the doors.
When she finally left and the room was left absent, Bruce sighed and slumped against his desk. He ran his hands over his face and groaned.
First day back in two weeks and he was still on his toes. All he had planned on doing that day was showing up for appearance's sake, sitting down in his office, and maybe take a nap. It really hadn't been that complicated. He wasn't even Batman during the day time. Yet, there he was, five minutes within entering the building and investigating a possible threat.
He spread his fingers to glance down at the now cold beverage on his work space. The creamer had risen to the top, making an odd white swirl. Bruce moved his hands up to pull at his hair, and he breathed out a long, deep sigh.
"Having a bad morning so far?"
Bruce's hand immediately shot down to his desk drawer to grab some sort of weapon, but he soon stopped. He dropped the letter opener and closed his eyes.
"I'm going to say yes, then."
"Lucius," Bruce voiced. He looked at the man approaching him and gave the same lame smirk he gave to Alfred earlier in the morning. "Sorry."
Lucius Fox stopped a few feet from where Bruce stood. He watched as the Wayne moved idly around his desk. Concern was growing on his expression with every second.
"Are you all right, Bruce? I heard you talking with that young lady, but I didn't hear anything wrong. Was there a reason you called?"
Bruce had forgotten about that. The button on the bottom of his desk had given Lucius an alert to come up. In the midst of all the thinking he must have dazed off again.
Maybe everyone had a point about that.
Bruce leaned his palms flat against his desk and met Lucius' gaze. "How much did you hear?"
Lucius raised a brow. "Only that she's new and excited to be part of the company."
The coffee rippled as Bruce tapped the desk. He worked his jaw. Most of the conversation he had with Mabel had been just that once they had entered the office itself, so Lucius hadn't missed much. If that's what he had heard, then...
Perhaps he was looking far too in to all of this. It wasn't like he had slept well recently, and judging by the fact that he just pulled a blade on someone he's known the voice of for years must have said a lot about what his state of mind was.
What were the chances something was up with her? Low, undoubtedly. She was only in college. A shy girl hits her new boss with a door and then makes a fool out of herself in front of him, there's no wonder she would be skittish. Hell, Bruce would have been.
He let out a breath. "And you're certain that's all?" he asked, his gut tugging at the mere thought of dropping the subject.
Lucius squinted at him. "Yes, Bruce. That's all. Are you sure you're all right? When was the last time you slept?"
Bruce shook his head and scratched his cheek. He sat in his chair. "No, no, I'm fine. Thank you, Lucius. Sorry I called you up for nothing."
A few steps forward and Lucius had sat down across from Bruce. He waved it off.
"I haven't seen you in a long while, Bruce," he said. "I don't mind a bit. Even if it was because your sleep deprived brain got paranoid of an unpaid intern."
Bruce made a deep gutteral noise and rested his head in his hands. Above him he could hear Lucius struggling not to laugh, and he tugged down a frown.
"You and Alfred live off of my pain, don't you?" he moaned, but couldn't help the soft smile when Lucius barked out.
Slowly, Bruce's own shoulders began to shake with soft laughter mixing in with Lucius'. The pair sat and bantered for a bit, catching up on the little details. How was Alfred doing anyhow? What are your kids up to? Anything exciting been happening while I was gone?
It felt normal.
Bruce's lips quirked up in a small smirk as Lucius went on about some story or another. His pulse had finally settled to a healthy human pace, and his fog addled brain had cleared some. Even the lead heavy limbs holding him down seemed to have lightened up a bit. Maybe Alfred was right when he said a little human contact with an old friend could be healing.
"But really," Lucius chuckled. His voice went more serious, and his expression followed soon after. "Are you all right?"
The change in atmosphere wasn't drastic, but somehow Bruce still felt disappointed that the light hearted tone had disappeared.
"What makes you ask?" he replied in turn. It was a terrible question with an obvious answer, he knew, but it felt like the only option to answer with.
Lucius eyed Bruce's face. His fingers laced together. "I've known you for long enough now that I know the signs of exhaustion on you, Bruce. Even with the extra help."
He indicated to the makeup around his eyes and cheeks. Bruce flushed at the note.
"It's been a busy two weeks is all," he answered simply.
A long stare answered Bruce. He met the gaze with his own blank eyes. Lucius' lips pressed into a discontent frown, but he didn't seem in the mood to argue. Something in Bruce lightened with this.
Unfortunately, that also meant the end of a conversation. As much as Bruce hated to say it, it had been far too long since he had spoken with Lucius, and the talk they had just shared didn't feel content enough at all. It had to have ended at some point, though, he supposed.
Lucius sighed and stood. He grunted, then smiled. "It was nice talking with you, Bruce. I've missed this."
The smile Bruce showed him was almost sad. He nodded. "Yeah. Me too."
Again, Lucius chuckled. He patted Bruce's shoulder in an all too friendly way.
"Get some rest, will you? You look like the living dead," Lucius added.
Bruce's face contorted, and he looked down at his hands. "Thanks, Lucius. I appreciate that."
Lucius shrugged and back peddled to the doors. "Hey, just telling the truth!"
Just as Lucius was about to exit the office, Bruce looked back up and cleared his throat.
"Uh- Hold up a second, Lucius."
The hand resting on the doorknob fell. Lucius turned back to look at Bruce with a perplexed look on his face. Instead of persisting, however, he waited patiently for Bruce to continue.
Grateful for this, Bruce slumped. "Would you mind checking up on Mabel Sacarello's background for me? There's something about her that doesn't settle right with me."
Within a second, Lucius' expression softened. He nodded once. "I'll send any data I find to Alfred for you."
Bruce, having not even realised he had been holding it, sighed in relief. Some of the lines of his face smoothed.
"Thank you, Lucius. It means a lot."
Lucius smiled. "Anytime, Bruce."
The moment the doors closed behind Lucius, Bruce leaned back in his chair and let it rock for a moment. His gaze shifted over to the clock, and a frown fell over him. Surprise settled deep in his bones.
12:30? he questioned. Somehow he and Lucius had talked for nearly two hours. But that couldn't be right. He had only arrived a few minutes ago. The clock must have been off.
With suspicion prickling in him, Bruce checked his own wrist watch to be certain. Surely enough, it was half an hour passed noon. Had they really been catching up for that long? That never happened.
Just like an alarm, the ear piece he had on buzzed. Bruce's brow furrowed, and he clicked the talk button.
"Alfred?" he asked. "Is everything all right?"
There was a huff. "Of course you have forgotten all ready. Typical," was all Alfred said in response.
Bruce waited for him to continue with confusion lingering behind him. He didn't bring up the sass in Alfred's tone. By then he had gotten used to it.
"I wanted to remind you that you have a meeting with Marcus Willis over lunch. Knowing you, I figured it had slipped your mind."
Shit. That had completely gone over his head. Sometimes Bruce couldn't help but think that Alfred knew him too well.
Sighing, Bruce scratched his neck. "When and where?"
He looked to the clock again. Perhaps he should have had that coffee. That way he could have held up at least some sort of energy for this meeting.
Alfred spoke with quick precision.
"One O'clock at Falkner's Diner. You best hurry, Bruce."
Bruce was standing before Alfred had even finished the sentence. He gathered anything that he needed to, then stopped to eye the coffee. It looked even more unappealing cold. He threw it in the trash.
"Thank you, Alfred," Bruce continued as he walked out of the door. He waved off handedly at an employee. Then, with haste, added,"I don't know what I would do without you."
He could practically hear Alfred's smug smirk across the city. "Get on now, Master Bruce. I'll see you tonight."
Bruce humphed. He pressed the down button on the elevator, and watched the doors slide shut.
"See you tonight."
----
Luckily enough for him, traffic was not bad at all.
For once in his life Bruce had gotten a shine of light down on him. Even with sleep shifting into his sight, it seemed the world had decided to give him a chance at not completely messing up the day.
Now if he could stay awake through the conversation, the day would be going absolutely splendid.
Bruce pulled in to an empty parking space outside the resteraunt. He locked the vehicle once he got out, and ignored the looks he received as he walked in.
It wasn't a fancy place. It was odd, in a way, to see that. Whenever he had work meetings outside of Wayne Enterprises, the place they went tended to be some big shot club or something along those lines only for the city's most elite.
Yet, there he was, walking in to a downtown diner. It was no wonder any passerby looked at him with awe. Most did anyhow, but it still must have been a shock to anyone to see Bruce Wayne, Playboy Billionaire, to enter a facility such as Falkner's. With a suit and all.
It was a quaint place. There were tables and booths all around. A countertop stretched in the front of the place, and televisions were hooked up in the corners. All in all, Bruce took a liking to it.
"Is that Bruce Wayne?"
"What's a guy like him doing here?"
"Dick probably came to flaunt his money ridden ass at all of us. Tch."
Bruce ignored all the negative comments flying at him, and instead chose to go over to the countertop. The waiter standing behind it stopped to look at him. For once, they didn't seem to have an opinion on him. Bruce smiled in relief.
"Hi, er- I was wondering if you know if my associate might be here all ready? He's got blond hair, a beard..."
The waiter shrugged and pressed his lips together. "Sorry, Mr. Wayne, I don't know. But I could get you set up at a table for when he does arrive? If not I can get you a drink and you can wait up here."
Bruce silently thanked whatever entity who was watching him for giving him a nice person. Most people either swooned over him or hated him. This - he squinted at their name tag - Miles, was some sort of blessing.
Along with the lack of traffic, something odd was going on with his luck. Bruce only hoped it would last.
A genuine beam fell over him. "That would be great. Thank you, Miles. I appreciate it."
Miles shrugged once more, but it remained with the same nonchalance as before. He smiled back. "Sure thing. If ya need anything, don't hesitate to wave me down."
With a nod in agreement, Bruce watched as Miles made his way around the countertop to take someone else's order. He heaved a breath and took a seat at one of the empty booths situated in the very corner of the room.
A few eyes were still on him, but Bruce easily pretended he hadn't noticed. He fixed his focus on the menu Miles had slid under his nose. They shared another glance before Bruce paged through it with little interest. He wasn't all that hungry. Then again, he could all ready hear Alfred hounding on him for not eating.
Before he could make his final decision, something much more important caught Bruce's attention. And, based on the fact that all gazes had been turned towards the television, everyone else was thinking the same.
"...three weeks since Gotham's most notorious criminal, The Joker, has broken out of Arkham. No sight of the killer clown has been reported, leaving us all questioning the same thing: What is he planning next? And how will Batman stop him this time? "
Bruce's forehead creased. He eyed the ongoing news report, hoping for more information about it. The last two weeks had admittedly been a search for the Joker more than fighting other criminals. Other than a scuffle with Penguin's men, he hadn't actually done anything but look for the clown.
The report was correct though. There had been no sign of him. He had even went to Harley out of sheer desperation about two days back. She hadn't any clue where he was. For a moment he had considered that she lied about that. It only took him a moment to realise she wouldn't do that. Harley could be difficult when she didn't want to tell the truth, but when Batman had asked she had stated right away that she didn't know. If that weren't true, she'd have wanted to have more fun with it.
The clown was off the grid. Which, based off of anything that had to do with what Bruce knew of Joker - which, honestly, wasn't all that much - was not something to look forward to. Whatever he was up to, it wasn't good.
Someone slapped the table, making Bruce snap out of his daze. He zeroed in on the man sitting down across from him.
"Phew," Marcus huffed. He shook himself out of his soaked coat. "So sorry I was late. It got nasty out there so suddenly I got stuck out on the road. Hopefully you haven't been waiting too long?"
Bruce snuck a look out the glass door leading out. Rain pelted down in icy sheets. Bruce seemed to have arrived just in time. Once he looked back to Marcus, he shook his head.
"No, not long at all. No worries."
The relieved breath Marcus gave ended with one of the man's blissful smiles. "Wonderful. I would hate to have left you waiting. Have you at least ordered anything?"
Bruce laughed with as much humour as he could put in to it. Once more, he shook his head. "No, I haven't."
"Well, we must fix that then, shouldn't we? Er, Miles!" Marcus shouted. He waved over to Miles, who scoffed and made his way over.
"I'm comin', I'm comin'," Miles drawled. He looked between them. "What can I get you boys?"
Bruce started to answer, but Marcus cut in before he could get a word in.
"Two house special drinks to start off with, please." He beamed.
Miles bumped Marcus's shoulder as he turned. "Sure thing, man. Be right back."
Bruce met Marcus' gaze with a questioning eyebrow. He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms.
"All right, all right, I get you," Marcus prodded with a slight chuckle. "Just trust me here, Wayne. It's good stuff."
For a moment, Bruce almost refused. He never liked people ordering for him. Most of the time it was either dangerous or just straight up terrible. Then, out of no where, Miles came back with two mugs of hot chocolate topped high with whipped cream.
Bruce stared at. If he said he wasn't shocked it would have been a lie. In front of him he heard Marcus chuckle.
"Best cocoa in Gotham, if you ask me." Marcus took a sip of his. "Miles' son made the recipe. Vanilla infused."
Hesitant but curious, Bruce humphed and took a drink of his own. To his utter surprise, it tasted far better than he had thought it would. Based on the grin Marcus had, his face must have expressed that.
"Like it?"
Bruce had to admit - it was pretty great. "Yes, I do," he answered through another sip. He set the mug down. With regret, he forced himself to go on.
"But that's not why we're here today."
Also seeming downtrodden by this, Marcus set his own hot chocolate down. "Yes, I suppose you're right. To business then."
Bruce watched as Marcus reached down next to them and placed a brief case on the table. He opened it with Wayne's own thumb scan technology and spun it around for Bruce to see when it clicked open.
Business plans, engineering insights, building renovations, costs; they were all in there. Bruce sifted through it all with Marcus as his professional aid.
The rest of the afternoon was spent with Bruce and Marcus discussing any decisions or plans needed for Wayne Enterprises. After about an hour they ordered food - and more cocoa - having both been struck by a sudden ravaging hunger. They took a break then.
Bruce ate a fry and laughed at one of Marcus' jokes. He was better company than most of the money concerned businessmen who worked for him. Having been expecting a soul draining luncheon, Bruce was more than welcome to accept Marcus' expertise.
"So," Bruce started. He took a drink of his cocoa. "Of all places, why here? It's an interesting place of venue for a work related discussion with your boss."
Marcus' cheeks went rosy in the way they did when he smiled. "Ah, right. I've been coming to Falkner's since I was a little kid. When I got in to your company, Miles was first to celebrate my success. Anything big in my life has happened here. Figured talking business opportunities here shouldn't be any different.
Besides," he added quickly. He shot a charming smile. "It's quiet."
Bruce looked around the diner again. Over the past two hours he had gotten a decent feel of their surroundings, and he had to say that Marcus had a right to think it was nice. If he didn't have to keep up his prissy image this would have been his type of place.
With a raise of his glass, Bruce smiled. "Cheers to that."
Despite looking a bit surprised, Marcus returned the look. He clinked his mug with Bruce's, and they both downed the rest of them.
After that everything went much smoother. It had been going well before, but with both of their focus's regained, the two made progress a lot faster than Bruce could have imagined.
It was quarter to five when Bruce got a call.
He took out his phone, saw the caller ID, and looked at Marcus with regret. Somehow, Bruce still hadn't been expecting the casual response.
"It's perfectly fine," he shrugged. "This can wait."
Bruce gaped for only second before shaking himself. Even then Marcus remained a nice guy. He scooted out of the booth, and - after finding a corner away from prying eyes - answered the cell.
"Hey, Lucius. What's up?"
Lucius seemed to hesitate. Bruce's eyebrows pulled together for what seemed like the millionth time that day.
"Lucius?" he repeated.
A shaky breath. Then-
"Good news or bad news first?"
Bruce had to wait for a second. Based on the way Lucius has responded, the question seemed more of a worse or worst sort of question.
"Good," he decided on at last. Maybe he was misinterpreting the tone. His luck had been decent up until then. Why should it change then?
Of course, being him, that meant it was going to go down at a full speed plummet.
"You were right," Lucius answered. "About Ms. Sacarello. She's a real person, that is her name, and she does work here. However..."
Bruce's muscles tensed. "However?"
Slowly, Lucius found the words. "Her life stops ten years ago. There's nothing at all, Bruce. She just appeared. Not only that, but- It's hidden well. Anyone looking for most information wouldn't notice."
Lowering his eyes to the ground, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose. "But you weren't looking for most information."
The line went silent on both ends. Outside, Bruce could hear the sound of Miles cooking away in the kitchen. Suddenly his lunch wasn't setting right. If this was the better news, how could the other possibly be considered bad?
Steadying himself, Bruce looked back up. He tucked his free arm underneath the other to rest his elbow on it. "The bad news?"
This time, Bruce heard Lucius's breathing hitch. Bile rose against Bruce's tongue with the growing anxiety welling inside his gut.
"Albert Cunningham."
Bruce's eyes fell into a hard squint. He shifted on his feet.
"Yes, I spoke with him just this morning. What about him?"
A beat. Lucius seemed to be considering his options. Another moment flew passed. Bruce began to feel sick.
"He's dead."
The entirety of Falkner's seemed to stop in time. He felt almost as if Freeze had put him in some sort of tundra like choke hold that stopped his limbs from doing anything. He felt solid - stuck.
Eventually, he swallowed down the nausea threatening to tip over all the way. He let his eyes slip close. Deep breath.
"We're keeping it under control with the news and GCPD so far. Gordon agreed to try and keep it on the down low until all of this gets figured out. He needs to speak with you, Bruce." Small, quiet, Lucius added: He needs to get an alibi."
There was a point where Bruce could only inhale slowly through his nose. In that moment, Lucius continued to speak. He wasn't certain what was being said. There was no way Mabel and Albert weren't connected. Nor the fact that he decided to show up on the same day that all of this appeared. But why? Just because he's Bruce Wayne? Or perhaps Cunningham was in to more than Bruce initially saw.
"Bruce?"
There - He heard that. It was said with enough force that Lucius must have said it a few times before. Bruce coughed to show response.
"Yeah. Right, okay." He turned back around and started out. "I'll be right there, Lucius."
Lucius didn't get the chance to respond when Bruce turned off the call. He made his way out and quickly scribbled a check to slap on the table, which made Marcus flinch.
"Hey, woah, what's going on?" the other asker hurriedly.
Bruce thought about just leaving without answer, but soon realised that wouldn't be good for either of them. He went for the easiest answer.
"I can't explain right now, but we'll have to finish this some other time. I'm sorry," he apologised. "Uh- and when the police come to talk with you, don't panic. We aren't in trouble."
I hope.
Marcus seemed to struggle coming up with a legible response to that. Deciding he didn't have time for it in the first place, Bruce turned on his heel, and left.
----
Outside everything seemed perfectly fine.
When Bruce had first arrived he had thought that there was a possibility that it was all some sort of dream hallucination his mind had made up. He had been tired. It wasn't totally impossible.
The moment he entered the building he knew that simply wouldn't be. He was crowded by police officers talking to Albert's closest work friends, coroners; anyone he would expect to show at a crime scene.
To his ease, there weren't reporters there. Which meant the GCPD had done what they could to keep it under wraps for now - just as they had promised. Whoever said they weren't trustworthy could bite Bruce's ass.
On the thought of the GCPD, Bruce's eye caught the one's of Jim Gordon. He didn't take any time to wait before following Jim out of the busy floor up to Bruce's own space; somewhere quiet for now.
The doors clicking shut behind them felt like a gong ringing deep within Bruce's ears. He stood by them with Jim positioned directly in front of him. They remained silent.
Bruce caught the click of a tape recorder. He knew it was for safety measures, for certain, but even then he still felt almost betrayed by the lack of trust. Then again, it wasn't like he was Batman.
Yet.
The sound of Jim exhaling brought Bruce in to focus. Dark lashes fluttered up at a weary old ones gaze; worried.
"You know I hate to ask this, right?" was the first question asked.
A tick within Bruce had him almost deflating at how rundown Jim sounded. He hoped his smile was reassuring enough.
"Of course, Jim. You're simply doing what you must."
Jim's lungs rattled and he nodded. "Right," he started. It sounded almost like he was trying to will himself to do it.
Standing taller, Gordon finally asked,"Bruce Wayne, were you in the building during the supposed murder of Albert Cunningham?"
The use of the word murder made Bruce's blood boil. There was so supposed in this.
Hoping he seemed steady enough, Bruce swallowed. "No. I have been out at a business meeting at Falkner's Diner with an associate. Name Marcus Willis. The owner of the establishment, Miles, can also vouche for my location, as well as twenty other civilians."
"Have you talked to Albert recently?"
Bruce thought back to that morning. "Early today. Around ten."
Jim went over this. He grit his teeth. "Was something off about him? Maybe he looked sick? Anything at all?"
There hadn't been a hair out of place on Albert's head. But Bruce didn't need to remember that to know this had to do with a certain someone. But how?<
"He had been fine, Jim. Whoever did this did it right under all of our noses."
Dreaded quiet filled the space between them. The tape recorder clicked and came to a stop, which only made the lack of noise even more unbearable. Bruce was used to not speaking. He never liked it all that much. However, in that moment, he felt like he could have screamed.
He gulped and shifted his weight. "I'm so sorry, Jim. I know how much work this must be trying to keep this from the press. I want you to know I appreciate it, and-"
"No, no, Bruce," Jim interjected. "It's not a problem. We're friends, all right? It's the least I could do. Really."
He did so much for Bruce on a daily basis. Bruce only wished he could somehow express that to Jim without revealing his identity in the process.
"Yes, well, if you do ever need anything - please ask."
Bruce offered a smile filled with appreciation. His eyes told a completely different story. Like he was concerned. Jim didn't seem to notice and returned it.
They both looked at the turned off recorder. Neither dared say a word. Bruce knew Jim had turned it off so they could speak off the record. Even then it felt like they weren't allowed to.
Out of no where, Jim spoke.
"I'll figure out who did this."
The amount of persistence behind those words didn't shock Bruce in the slightest. He had heard that tone many times before as Batman. It was one of the best qualities Jim Gordon had ever had. Hope.
Bruce looked straight ahead at Jim. There was only one thing he could possibly think of as a response. He blinked.
"I know."
The doors swung open, and Bruce spun around to look. The man coming in stopped short when he saw both Jim and Bruce in there. A deep red went over them, and he looked at Bruce.
"Sorry for interrupting," he stuttered,"but this letter came for you. The person who delivered it said it's urgent."
Bruce turned back to Gordon, who merely shrugged and indicated to the package. Bruce took it.
"Thank you, Johnathan," he told the young man.
Johnathon nodded and exited the office with some urgency. Jim snorted, and Bruce chuckled in amusement.
"You'd think my employees would be more used to my existence by now," he said.
Gordon laughed at that and stepped forward. "Not sure I'm used to your existence yet, kid." With a teasing smile, Gordon's face went serious. He clapped a hand on Bruce's shoulder.
"Stay out of trouble until this blows over, will ya? You worry us old men sometimes, Bruce."
Three names immediately popped into Bruce's headspace - Jim among them. His gaze softened.
"Thank you, Jim," he said instead, knowing he couldn't promise Gordon something like that.
Jim took it. He patted Bruce's shoulder, then dropped his arm down to his side. He cleared his throat.
"I'll leave you to your business then, I suppose."
Bruce turned to walk with Jim out of the door. At the exit, they shook hands.
"I hope to see you again soon."
"Same to you, Bruce. I'll do my best to keep you in the case loop." Jim dropped his hand first.
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Bruce hummed as Jim stepped in, waving.
"I appreciate it, Commissioner," he said, genuinely; softly. He offered Jim a grin. "See you later."
The doors shut before Jim could say his farewell. Bruce didn't mind. He flipped the letter over in his hands, feeling the paper, as he walked back to his office.
The address wasn't recognisable. In fact, there wasn't even a real address on it. Not even a stamp. It must have been hand delivered. How odd.
Bruce pushed his eyebrows low. He shut his office doors and made a beeline to the desk. The letter opener was still on the top from his earlier situation with Lucius.
He ripped it open and slowly took out the letter. The paper was that of what children used on art projects. Bright purple. His stomach dropped. A bad feeling was beginning to sizzle within him.
When he was certain no bombs or other tech were connected to it, Bruce unfolded the letter. Stickers were placed all over the edges with green glitter glue edging.
Bruce's eyes scanned over the words one at a time for extra precision.
Dear Batman,
Hey! It's been a while, huh? Well, since it's officially three weeks since I broke out tomorrow, I'm throwing a party to celebrate! Of course, I just had to invite my least favorite enemy. Hope to see you there!
Sincerely,
The Joker.
Signed with a kiss.