Love & Malice: A Lead (part 1/2)
Title: Love & Malice (formerly Twists of Fate) - 6 - A Lead
Author: charlie_bz
Pairing/Characters: Bruce Wayne/Selina Kyle, Alfred Pennyworth, Jim Gordon, John Blake
Rating: For mature readers - Later chapters will turn quite dark.
Warnings: see above
Spoilers: Dark Knight Rises
Disclaimer: Dark Knight Rises does not belong to me.
Description: With Selina Kyle by his side, Bruce Wayne returns to Gotham to fulfill his family's legacy. After a brutal crime, he learns that Selina's ghosts can no longer be ignored and he must investigate her mysterious past.
A/N: I've changed the title since the other one was driving me crazy. This chapter was posted on FFN & AO3 a few months ago and I totally forgot (on purpose I guess) to post it over here. I think I found a way around the LJ posting difficulties that caused me to 'forget' to post here. Lastly, Apologies to any Russian readers about how I've mangled Russian names and customs and whatnot.
Russia- Three Years Earlier
Bruce and Selina engaged in their new favorite pastime: watching the baby sleep. Which she did non-stop. The quiet of the small apartment was interrupted only by the small sounds of the baby, each noise bringing a smile to the besotted new parents. With the newborn between them, they lay on their sides gazing wonderingly at the tiny person who had taken over their lives.
"We should probably give her a name," Selina said quietly, alternating between watching their daughter and watching Bruce as he stared at the baby.
"Probably," Bruce agreed, touching the baby's soft hand. "Any ideas?"
"So much pressure," Selina replied, thinking that this perfect creature deserved a perfect name. "She'll be stuck with whatever we choose forever."
They tossed names back and forth not finding one that fit and it was another two days before they finally found the perfect one.
Balashov had invited them for dinner, luring them out of their apartment with promises of warmth and Borscht. It was his wife's special recipe and the elderly man was proud to prepare his favorite dish for the American couple who had become important to him in such a short time. They couldn't refuse such an offer and left their apartment for the first time since they had returned with the baby.
The baby slept silently in Bruce's arms as they crept down the stairs avoiding the creaky steps. They hoped to evade the attention of the other tenants who always found the slightest excuse to knock on their door to see the newborn. Selina was far more tolerant of the intrusions letting the elderly widows hold their daughter while Bruce hovered close waiting to catch the baby if one of the women happened to drop her.
They entered the apartment to find Balashov seated on his favorite chair. He beckoned them closer, holding out his arms to hold the baby.
"You think I know nothing of babies?" Balashov asked at Bruce's concerned look. The aged man radiated fragility but Selina suspected the old soldier had the strength to safely hold their daughter.
"Don't be offended. Bruce thinks everyone is going to drop her," Selina said as she gave Bruce a fondly teasing smile.
"Never," Balashov said as Bruce placed the newborn in his arms. "It's been decades since I've held one but I know not to let go."
Bruce sat on the edge of his chair, nervous, for a few minutes until he seemed to persuade himself to relax and trust Balashov. Knowing how difficult it was for him not to worry, Selina patted his shoulder before sitting on the arm of his chair. The apartment fell silent as they all gazed at the newborn.
"She brings you joy, yes?" Balashov asked them.
Joy. There was the word that had eluded Selina to describe what she had been feeling in the days since the baby's birth. The word was a familiar one, of course, but she had never experienced that emotion and now Selina finally understood the meaning of joy.
"She does," Selina said, leaning over to caress the baby's soft dark hair.
Balashov angled the baby to present her to the photo of his wife. The cherished photograph sat on the little table next to his chair always within his sight. "Helena, look at this precious baby!"
Selina's eyes met Bruce's and they knew they had a name for their daughter. If Selina had thought about it, which she assuredly did not, she would have marveled and been slightly alarmed to find herself so in sync with another person. It had happened naturally enough; the last months of pregnancy, the birth and now the arrival of the love of their lives had forged a unity she had never experienced.
Upon learning of the baby's name, Balashov beamed with pride. Unashamed, his eyes teared as he thanked them for the honor.
"She will do very well with such a name," Balashov told them. "My Helena will watch over yours."
Weeks later when Bruce received the paperwork formalizing Helena's existence as the Wayne heir, he paused over the last name.
"It's gotta be Wayne," Selina said. Other than her existence, her name was the only thing her parents had given her and it was pretty worthless at that.
"We could hyphen it," Bruce replied, casting her an uncertain look.
"Bruce, my name doesn't mean a thing to me. But yours?" Her gaze returned to the baby nursing at her breast. "Your name opens every door for her. Mine…not so much."
That was another something Selina had not expected about motherhood; the desire for everything to be perfect for the little person that she brought into the world. Helena as Selina Kyle's daughter was all well and good but Helena as Bruce Wayne's daughter was momentous.
"I want her to have…everything," Selina said softly, feeling an unexpected rush of emotion.
Bruce set down the stacks of papers and sat next to her on the bed. She didn't have to explain what she meant, why it was important that Helena have choices and options that she never had. He got it.
"But I get to pick the middle name," Selina added with a mischievous grin. In their search for a name, Selina had come up with a few that, from his expression, pained Bruce to hear.
"Prudence?" He asked, going through her list of names. "Lucy? Julia? Rita?"
"Lovely Rita…" Selina recited.
"Let's hope she aspires to more than being a meter maid." He kissed her lightly before continuing her list of names. "Michelle? Eleanor?"
"Helena Eleanor? I'm not a cruel person." Privately, Selina thought Pearl would be a good one but she didn't want to lie to her daughter when she would eventually ask how she ended up with such a name. "Elise."
"I don't know that one."
"A sad song," Selina said as she passed the baby to him. "But one of my favorites."
Bruce nodded not understanding but any other follow-up questions were forgotten as the baby distracted him. Just as Selina had known would happen. She was very clever with the parceling of information about her past and if Bruce noticed, which he undoubtedly did, he never called her on it.
Finding any excuse to knock on their door, the widows of the building continued to bring food and gifts. Helena had amassed quite a collection of homemade booties, sweaters, hats and blankets. The women offered many suggestions on baby care as they passed Helena between them. Ever vigilant, Bruce watched, uncomfortable, but trying not to be rude in his desire to get Helena back.
"They could drop her. Or get her sick," he complained later when they sat down for dinner at a café. He handed Helena to Selina who curled the baby close as she took the menu the waiter offered. "You don't seem very worried."
"I'm not," Selina said absently as she tried to decipher the menu. "If I survived infancy, anybody can."
"What does that mean?" Bruce asked sharply.
Selina looked up to meet his concerned gaze. "It means that my parents were two idiot teenagers who probably never visited a pediatrician and definitely never consulted a baby book and I lived."
Her words sounded harsh and defensive to her ears. She didn't want him feeling sorry for her but telling stories about her parents invited pity. Pity she didn't want or deserve because she'd long ago accepted the reality of the people her parents were. To an outsider, her relationship with Jimmy and Lisa would seem sad but it wasn't sad to her. Not anymore.
"I'm just saying kids are tougher than they seem," Selina added, closing the door on the parents she had gladly excised from her life. At his knowing look, she felt a tinge of guilt and cracked the door on a safer aspect of her life.
"One of my best friends has three kids," she told him. "The first one she worried about everything. The second one, not so much. The third? Well, the kid could eat off the floor and nobody cared. And they are all healthy, happy kids."
Selina smiled at him, feeling pleased with herself. Bruce looked like he knew what she was up to but he also looked like he wanted to return to the previous topic.
"DeeDee," she answered the question he didn't ask. "My most legitimate best friend. Legitimate in that she's not a criminal but a mom with a real job and a real husband. I know," she said at his surprised look. "Shocking, isn't it?"
"It is," he agreed, leaning back in his chair waiting for her to elaborate. Her guilt surfaced again at how absurdly interested he was in the few crumbs of information she offered.
"DeeDee is…my equal friend. She doesn't need anything from me except friendship which is a refreshing change. I can rely on her, have fun with her and the best thing is I'm not responsible for her."
Their food arrived. Selina shifted Helena so she held her with one arm while she ate.
"You remember Jen?" she asked after the waiter left. "I tend to find people like that. People I have to take care of or…mentor."
"Mentor?" He asked, amused at her choice of words. "So, she was your protégé?"
"Yes!" She nodded, grinning at him, feeling more comfortable with the direction of the conversation. Strangely enough, it was the tales of thievery and conning that she felt most comfortable imparting to him. She hadn't shied away from providing details of jobs gone wrong and very right. "Now there's a career path I could follow. I could be like the Yoda of thieves. Not sure how I would advertise my services though…"
Over the next month, Selina settled into a peaceful existence that had eluded her all her life. The extreme anxiety that plagued her throughout her pregnancy had vanished and Selina couldn't understand what she had been so worried about. DeeDee had told her she would fall head over heels for the baby but Selina hadn't been able to see past her fear to heed her friend's words. DeeDee was so right.
Gotham - The Present
Hoping for some inspiration on an otherwise dead end case, Detective Jessica Massey returned to the scene of the crime. Three days following the homicide, workable leads continued to elude her. Despite sporting bona fide prison tats, the John Doe was not in any database. Her other victim who had barely survived the assault still slumbered the sleep of the deeply wounded and her sole suspect was protected by the Commissioner himself.
Sitting in her car, Jessica went over her notes, trying to see what she missed when an expensive black Range Rover pulled up behind her. Bruce Wayne had a lot of cheek to show up here.
"This is a crime scene, Mr. Wayne," she called out to him as she slammed her car door closed.
"It's also my property, Detective," he said with a grin that probably caused most women to go weak in the knees.
Jessica wasn't most women.
"Bet you think that charm gets you out of just about anything," she said, her eyes narrowing. Jessica hated it when suspects were too handsome for their own good. "I think you're too used to getting whatever you want."
He regarded her for a few moments. "Not really," he said and she believed him.
"I heard what happened at the hospital." The duty nurse had described him as quite a fighter. Her words had described him as "amazing" but Jessica refrained from adding to this man's already inflated ego.
"Does that clear my name?" He asked.
Even though Wayne was fading in her estimation as a viable suspect, Jessica still wasn't quite prepared to let him off the hook. Her instincts, which were usually spot on, told her this guy didn't have it in him to commit such a horrific crime. Besides, Jessica reasoned, if he wanted his girlfriend dead, a guy like him could afford to hire the best in the business. Fly them from the moon if he wanted to. Still, she knew from painful experience that seemingly benign men were capable of monstrous acts. Crimes of passion were exactly that, crimes committed in a haze of rage and jealously, often with no warning.
"You could have planned that in an attempt to deflect suspicion," she answered.
"That seems a lot of effort."
He didn't sound worried. Was that an act? She hated that she couldn't get a handle on this man. The man standing in front of her was different from the man portrayed in the tabloids. More down to Earth than she expected.
"What are you doing here?" She asked.
He looked around the deserted street, before settling his gaze on the warehouse, studying it. "Seeing if there's anything that's been overlooked."
"Not much faith in us, huh?"
"No, that's not it," he said, giving her an earnest look. "I know Selina. How she thinks. I may see something you wouldn't know to look for."
"And you would, of course, share that with us?"
"Of course," he said, not even bothering to lie convincingly.
He followed her inside the darkened building.
"You want the story our crime techs tell?" Jessica decided this might be a good opportunity to observe him. She hoped she wasn't getting fooled by a handsome face.
"Yes," he said, his voice carefully neutral.
The portable lights the Crime Scene Unit had employed were long gone but Jessica knew where every speck of blood had been found. As they walked up the steps to the second floor, she described the scenario they believed occurred. Wanting to gauge his reaction, to break through his tight control over his emotions, she was cold and blunt, not sparing him the harshest of details.
"Ms. Kyle was subdued by a shotgun blast to the chest." She paused, letting that sink in. "The shells were filled with salt. We found salt residue on her clothes. Not lethal but painful. Won't break the skin but it will stun you. So, we're thinking she got stunned with the blast over here." She pointed to a darkened hallway. "She falls over and then gets injected with a very mild tranquilizer that would knock her out for a short time."
His eyes followed her hand as she gestured to the points of interest.
"She's moved to the kill room," Jessica said, watched him closely. As she had hoped, her choice of words elicited a glimmer of emotion. He hid it quickly but she had seen the flash of pain at her brusque words. Another point in favor of innocence.
"Do you want me to go on?" She asked, her voice softening with sympathy.
"Yes."
"She was tied to a chair, her hands bound with rope behind her back. She must have had a knife on her so she was able to saw through the rope, her wrists cut in the process. Most of the damage on her left wrist, causing her to bleed, allowing us to follow her trail. Her hand was smashed with the same weapon used to kill the JD. By the layering of the blood, it looks like the JD was killed first, then the murder weapon used on Ms. Kyle. The coroner believes the murder weapon to be a club, or bat, wrapped in barbed wire."
If she had any doubts about his innocence, his unguarded look of pain at that piece of information chased away any lingering suspicions. All in all, it was a pretty horrible story and Massey could tell it was affecting Wayne.
"At some point, there was a helluva fight here. Your girl gave as good as she got and caused enough damage that they bled."
Bruce looked up sharply. "They?"
"Yeah," Jessica replied. "We've got blood from two other people in addition to Ms. Kyle and our John Doe. We also got DNA from under her nails and the DNA is consistent with what was found at the scene. I ran the DNA on the perps but haven't had any luck yet." She paused, looking at him searchingly. "There's also nothing at all about Ms. Kyle or our John Doe in any of our databases. And that is especially odd considering the JD did time."
"That is odd," Bruce agreed with an impenetrable look.
She stared at him knowing he knew something she didn't.
"Anyway, I don't know how she got away but she did." Jessica led him out of the kill room and down the hall pointing at the bits of blood that were found, revealing the trail Selina had left. "I think she threw something down the stairs so the perps would think she went that way. Then she hid under this desk until the coast was clear and she could climb out the window."
As they walked down the darkened hall Jessica pointed out blood traces that had been found. "The perps did a thorough search of the area but I guess they didn't think to check the roof. Maybe if they had more time but I think the cops scared them off. There's a back alley where I suspect they parked."
They walked toward the stairwell that had been discovered by the crime scene techs. The locked door had been obscured by a barricade of desks and chairs. After opening the door, Jessica paused and turned to Bruce.
"I think it was a trap," she told him as they walked up the stairs to the roof. "These people planned this, laying plastic on the floor and over the windows. The only thing they didn't count on was Ms. Kyle. As a result, other than the blood evidence we have nothing. No fingerprints, no signs of forced entry. This place is clean from top to bottom. Which is unusual for a building abandoned for over thirty years."
They emerged on the roof.
"And here's where she ended up," Jessica said, looking at the bloodstained spot visible under the harsh early afternoon sunlight. "I gotta hand it to your girlfriend. Most people wouldn't survive this kind of thing. Makes me think she's got serious street smarts."
"She does," Bruce said absently as he looked around the roof.
"I cannot even begin to imagine how she climbed to the roof with a smashed hand but I believe that's what saved her life."
"Selina is…" he started before giving her a quick glance, not willing to share private feelings with a stranger. "…very resourceful."
In her research on Bruce Wayne, Jessica hadn't come across anything about Ms. Kyle. That relationship was very low profile but, Jessica supposed, for a man who grew up under intense media scrutiny, his privacy must be a precious thing indeed. Protecting that which was most important to him.
After observing his reactions inside the warehouse, she had no doubts about his regard for the mysterious Ms. Kyle. She wondered how gossipy John was feeling. Probably not very concerning this guy. It was weird but she got the impression that John harbored some kind of hero worship for the filthy rich former playboy who had once dazzled the tabloids with stories of models and dancers and throwing money away like it was garbage.
"So," Jessica started, wanting to get back on track and stop with her speculating. "Why the roof? It's not the usual method of escape. Must be because she couldn't have climbed past that double layer of chain length fences with razor and barbed wire. Which, why is there so much of? I mean for an abandoned warehouse, it sure is locked up tight."
He shook his head, not knowing the answer. They stood on the edge of the roof, looking out over the adjacent field. From this spot, the oddness of the double layer of fencing stood out.
"Must be nice to have so many properties you can't keep track of them all."
"It's a pain in the ass, actually," he said, his gaze speculative as he looked at the fencing. "Especially now."
"The phone she had was a burner phone. The only number called was yours," Jessica said, looking up at him. "I think maybe it was an emergency only phone. So why would she call you and not the police?"
"You'll have to ask her that."
"I will."
"Why is he protecting you? The Commissioner?" Jessica asked, unable to contain her curiosity on that matter. "He never struck me as the kind to get bought off by the wealthy."
"He's not," Bruce replied, a tad defensively. "We're old friends."
She heard fondness in his voice.
"How does he get to be friends with the likes of you?"
"We shared the same interests," he replied, his gaze steady on hers.
"Like what? Polo?"
He smiled. "I don't play polo."
"It's of interest to me, the Commissioner's regard for you. And John's," she added. "It doesn't make sense."
He shrugged unwilling to offer an explanation.
Her phone rang. She looked at the caller then apologized and took the call, walking away from him.
"Goddammit!" She said as soon as she hung up.
"Problem?" He asked.
She waved him off. "I have to go. You coming down?"
"No. I'm going to look around."
She nodded, distracted, and started to leave but stopped.
"Look, I'm sorry about earlier," she said, turning to face him. "I'm paid to find killers not be friendly. But I shouldn't have been so… insensitive to what you're going through. For what it's worth, I'm not getting a killer vibe from you but I'm not paid to listen to vibes. Wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't think with my brain. And, as you may have heard, a high percentage of women who are murdered are killed by their significant other. So I had to take that approach."
"I understand."
She handed him her card. "I doubt you will but if you come across anything, please let me know. I'm not here to get into your business. I just want to find a couple of killers."
"So do I, Detective," he replied, putting her card in his pocket.
Go to Part 2