FIC: Road to Nowhere (2/7) - Bruce, various, REMADE TRILOGY
TITLE: Road to Nowhere (2/7)
AUTHOR: Demon Faith
SERIES: 'Remade'
CATEGORY: AU, Angst
CHARACTERS: Bruce, various
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 1,042
SUMMARY: Bruce failed to find Dick the first time. It will not happen again.
NOTES: This is the completion of my AU trilogy 'Remade', which can all be found here.
Thanks to coppercowries and skitty_kat for their lovely artwork, and the insufferable ladybugkay for being so persuasive.
"Good afternoon, Mr Wayne! Enjoy your lunch!"
It had been clear to him for some time that Clara wanted to be his "personal secretary". He waved politely to her and nodded to the doorman who gave him a winning smile. There was definitely something in the water.
He had discovered a new coffee shop across the street from Wayne Enterprises. It was a small, family-run affair and did apple turnovers that made your tongue melt. He was going to grab a sandwich and then head back to discuss strategy with Lucius before the two o'clock meeting. The apple turnover could wait for another day.
Laura grinned when he opened the door. "Mr Wayne! Take a seat! Coffee? Apple turnover?"
"No, Laura, thank you. Just a sandwich."
She nodded seriously. "Chicken with lettuce, tomato, no mayo?"
"Got it in one." He perched on the stool and watched the occupants of the café. A couple were arguing quietly in the window, whilst an old man rustled his paper nearby, clearly listening in. A girl with purple hair stirred her coffee three times clockwise and then once anticlockwise, before starting the ritual again, all the time scribbling in a leather-bound book with a stub of a pencil. He watched her for a whole minute, absorbed in the choppy rhythm of her movements.
"Here's your sandwich, Mr Wayne. It's on your tab."
He looked up at the girl behind the counter and smiled as he took the bag. "Thanks, Amie. See you tomorrow."
It was so easy to fall into a routine, to forget that he was meant to be on a mission. He pushed open the café door with a sigh, heading back into the world. Tomorrow, he would take a proper lunch break, really dedicate some time to this issue. The longer he left it, the further away Dick would be. He couldn't afford to let him run that far; he had to bring him back, where it was safe, where he could be protected.
Avoiding the eyes of the doorman and the enthusiastic Clara, he made his way back to his office, preparing to concentrate on the business of the day.
~
He had cut patrol short to work on his leads. Clark had heard nothing despite listening for Dick on various Gotham rooftops. This meant that Dick had left town and headed out somewhere else. Blüdhaven was the nearest city, drowning in its own filth; Dick would have to be desperate to go there, but he might just be that close to the edge.
Bruce had finally come to terms with the fact that he didn't know the boy at all. He had only seen a glimpse, an ugly glance through a fractured mirror, and he had no idea how Dick thought now, how he would act, where his certainties and his safe havens were. He was acting from the knowledge of a boy he had once known and not the unbalanced murderer whose world had crumbled beneath him.
Uneasy, he turned off the monitors, alone in the dark of the Cave, and wishing Mary's voice would carry through the shadows.
~
"More coffee, Mr Wayne?"
It was hour two of his self-imposed power break and his brain was about ready to implode. He mustered a weary smile for Laura, who poured him another cup and slid an apple turnover next to his sketchpad. "That one's free," she said conspiratorially, and he genuinely smiled.
"Thank you," he said and meant it. Leaning back in the chair, he realised he was the only one left in the café. Russell was whistling as he cleaned out the coffee machine and Amie was clearing tables. She was wearing thick beige tights, which must have been stifling in the Gotham heat, but she didn't seem to mind, long blue jumper covering her wrists and her neck and skirt flapping about her shins. A domestic abuse case if ever he'd seen one.
Laura kissed Russell on the cheek, leaving a deep red print on his skin and he blushed slightly, locking eyes with Bruce as if to stake a claim. Bruce lowered his gaze back to his sketchbook and drew another outline of Dick's face. It hadn't changed all that much, really, if you knew what to look for. How had he missed him? How had he not instantly known that his boy was with him…teasing him…kissing him?
He concentrated on the lines of the pencil, trying not to dwell on those thoughts. They tormented him every day but he had to push them back if he was ever going to do any work.
Too late, he spotted Clara at the café door, and she quickly planted herself across the table from him. "Mr Wayne! Well, just fancy seeing you here!"
She giggled ostentatiously, glancing around at the other café dwellers. Laura disappeared into the back room and Amie continued to wipe down surfaces, pretending she wasn't there. A sensible strategy, and one he wished he could employ.
"Clara. Is something wrong?"
The frown wrinkled her brow in a perfect 'W' as her lips parted slightly - she was good, he'd give her that. And if he didn't want a sexual harassment suit on his desk, she would be a perfect ornament for a dozen society functions or more. As it was, he had to stop this ridiculous flirting before any paparazzi caught them.
"Wrong, Mr Wayne? Why, of course not! I'm just taking my coffee break. Hey, you! Cappuccino, no sugar. Mr Wayne's tab."
Bruce resisted the urge to deny that he knew her, as Amie fetched the drink, bringing it over with careful hands, not spilling a drop. She set it down before Clara, who nodded in a disaffected manner.
"Thank you, Amie," Bruce said warmly, and her eyes met his briefly before skittering away. Definitely domestic abuse and he would have to look into that. Batman could always pay her gentleman friend a polite call one evening. Maybe then little Amie would smile.
Clara prattled on about Wayne Enterprises' shares, as Bruce closed his sketchpad, knowing that his concentration was broken and he had no hope of retrieving his train of thought. Politely, he excused himself from the café and went back to work.
AUTHOR: Demon Faith
SERIES: 'Remade'
CATEGORY: AU, Angst
CHARACTERS: Bruce, various
RATING: PG-13
WORD COUNT: 1,042
SUMMARY: Bruce failed to find Dick the first time. It will not happen again.
NOTES: This is the completion of my AU trilogy 'Remade', which can all be found here.
Thanks to coppercowries and skitty_kat for their lovely artwork, and the insufferable ladybugkay for being so persuasive.
"Good afternoon, Mr Wayne! Enjoy your lunch!"
It had been clear to him for some time that Clara wanted to be his "personal secretary". He waved politely to her and nodded to the doorman who gave him a winning smile. There was definitely something in the water.
He had discovered a new coffee shop across the street from Wayne Enterprises. It was a small, family-run affair and did apple turnovers that made your tongue melt. He was going to grab a sandwich and then head back to discuss strategy with Lucius before the two o'clock meeting. The apple turnover could wait for another day.
Laura grinned when he opened the door. "Mr Wayne! Take a seat! Coffee? Apple turnover?"
"No, Laura, thank you. Just a sandwich."
She nodded seriously. "Chicken with lettuce, tomato, no mayo?"
"Got it in one." He perched on the stool and watched the occupants of the café. A couple were arguing quietly in the window, whilst an old man rustled his paper nearby, clearly listening in. A girl with purple hair stirred her coffee three times clockwise and then once anticlockwise, before starting the ritual again, all the time scribbling in a leather-bound book with a stub of a pencil. He watched her for a whole minute, absorbed in the choppy rhythm of her movements.
"Here's your sandwich, Mr Wayne. It's on your tab."
He looked up at the girl behind the counter and smiled as he took the bag. "Thanks, Amie. See you tomorrow."
It was so easy to fall into a routine, to forget that he was meant to be on a mission. He pushed open the café door with a sigh, heading back into the world. Tomorrow, he would take a proper lunch break, really dedicate some time to this issue. The longer he left it, the further away Dick would be. He couldn't afford to let him run that far; he had to bring him back, where it was safe, where he could be protected.
Avoiding the eyes of the doorman and the enthusiastic Clara, he made his way back to his office, preparing to concentrate on the business of the day.
~
He had cut patrol short to work on his leads. Clark had heard nothing despite listening for Dick on various Gotham rooftops. This meant that Dick had left town and headed out somewhere else. Blüdhaven was the nearest city, drowning in its own filth; Dick would have to be desperate to go there, but he might just be that close to the edge.
Bruce had finally come to terms with the fact that he didn't know the boy at all. He had only seen a glimpse, an ugly glance through a fractured mirror, and he had no idea how Dick thought now, how he would act, where his certainties and his safe havens were. He was acting from the knowledge of a boy he had once known and not the unbalanced murderer whose world had crumbled beneath him.
Uneasy, he turned off the monitors, alone in the dark of the Cave, and wishing Mary's voice would carry through the shadows.
~
"More coffee, Mr Wayne?"
It was hour two of his self-imposed power break and his brain was about ready to implode. He mustered a weary smile for Laura, who poured him another cup and slid an apple turnover next to his sketchpad. "That one's free," she said conspiratorially, and he genuinely smiled.
"Thank you," he said and meant it. Leaning back in the chair, he realised he was the only one left in the café. Russell was whistling as he cleaned out the coffee machine and Amie was clearing tables. She was wearing thick beige tights, which must have been stifling in the Gotham heat, but she didn't seem to mind, long blue jumper covering her wrists and her neck and skirt flapping about her shins. A domestic abuse case if ever he'd seen one.
Laura kissed Russell on the cheek, leaving a deep red print on his skin and he blushed slightly, locking eyes with Bruce as if to stake a claim. Bruce lowered his gaze back to his sketchbook and drew another outline of Dick's face. It hadn't changed all that much, really, if you knew what to look for. How had he missed him? How had he not instantly known that his boy was with him…teasing him…kissing him?
He concentrated on the lines of the pencil, trying not to dwell on those thoughts. They tormented him every day but he had to push them back if he was ever going to do any work.
Too late, he spotted Clara at the café door, and she quickly planted herself across the table from him. "Mr Wayne! Well, just fancy seeing you here!"
She giggled ostentatiously, glancing around at the other café dwellers. Laura disappeared into the back room and Amie continued to wipe down surfaces, pretending she wasn't there. A sensible strategy, and one he wished he could employ.
"Clara. Is something wrong?"
The frown wrinkled her brow in a perfect 'W' as her lips parted slightly - she was good, he'd give her that. And if he didn't want a sexual harassment suit on his desk, she would be a perfect ornament for a dozen society functions or more. As it was, he had to stop this ridiculous flirting before any paparazzi caught them.
"Wrong, Mr Wayne? Why, of course not! I'm just taking my coffee break. Hey, you! Cappuccino, no sugar. Mr Wayne's tab."
Bruce resisted the urge to deny that he knew her, as Amie fetched the drink, bringing it over with careful hands, not spilling a drop. She set it down before Clara, who nodded in a disaffected manner.
"Thank you, Amie," Bruce said warmly, and her eyes met his briefly before skittering away. Definitely domestic abuse and he would have to look into that. Batman could always pay her gentleman friend a polite call one evening. Maybe then little Amie would smile.
Clara prattled on about Wayne Enterprises' shares, as Bruce closed his sketchpad, knowing that his concentration was broken and he had no hope of retrieving his train of thought. Politely, he excused himself from the café and went back to work.