(no subject)
Title: Betty and the Bat (Ficlet #7)
Fandom: Batman Begins/Ugly Betty
Characters/Pairing: Betty Suarez, Bruce Wayne, and Alfred Pennyworth
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,434
Summary: Revelations.
Notes: This is the seventh part in a rather unusual crossover which takes place after Season one of Ugly Betty and the end of Batman Begins; it's AU from there.
Here it is, as promised! I'm thinking... weekendish for the next update.
• Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, and Part 6.
"Oh my God."
They were absolutely the only words Betty could force out of her mouth as the black car pulled up in front of what she had always jokingly called 'Stately Wayne Manor'. Stately, she decided very quickly, didn't even begin to cover it. She probably wouldn't ever call it 'stately' again. Maybe… 'palace-like'. It didn't have the same ring to it, to be honest, but it was way more apt of a term, in her opinion. Somehow it just hadn't looked so huge in the pictures. Of course she'd know that it was going to be impressive -anything that could call itself a manor would be - but this place looked like it probably had stables. And maybe a twenty car garage. Not to mention acres and acres of land for things like… fox hunting. Yes, fox hunting.
Did they even do that anymore?
"Hm?"
Betty dragged her eyes away from the car window and tried to reign in the look of shock, awe, and 'I have never seen a house this big in my entire life' off of her face before faced Bruce. "Um. Nothing. You, uh... you have a lovely home." She said, blinking madly.
The car came to a smooth stop in front of the manor's front steps. Betty gulped slightly; the place looked intimidating both intimidating and foreboding. "You really live here by yourself?"
"It's been in the family for generations." She took that as a yes.
"I'd feel kind of lonely…"
Bruce raised an eyebrow as he looked over at her. "You have my schedule memorized, how much time do you think I spend here?"
Betty scratched her head and gave him a bemused smile. "Good point." She jumped in slight shock when the door opened seemingly of its own accord. It was only Alfred, of course, and he did this every time she traveled with Bruce, but he still scared her every time. It took a good deal of restraint for her not to simply open the door herself, though she did try her hardest because she knew Alfred held a good deal of stock in his job. Sitting on her hands (and ignoring Bruce's odd looks when she did so) was really the best solution.
"And Alfred's your… only, um, person?" she couldn't help but ask, because the place was huge and she couldn't at all imagine one person taking care of it all, especially not Alfred. He was wonderful, but he was no spring chicken.
"After my parents were killed Alfred was the one who raised me," Bruce answered. He leaned back in his seat so that Betty could exit the car first. That was another thing she was finally becoming used to, manners. Actual gentlemanly manners. Daniel had been polite enough, but Bruce had a butler and a manor. His sort of gentlemanliness was old world. As she waited by the steps Betty felt almost as if she'd been transported back into the early twentieth century, and she was dressed completely wrong for the part.
Amanda would have had the perfect flapper outfit, Betty just knew it.
"This way, Miss. Suarez," Alfred was saying. Betty looked up and saw Bruce standing on her left and Alfred standing on her right. Bruce nodded, indicating that it was alright to follow and she did, only just managing not to trip up the stairs. She clutched the strap on her shoulder tightly and tried not to look horribly uncomfortable as Alfred pulled open one of the giant wooden doors and then stepped aside. Bruce too stepped aside, apparently expecting Betty to walk inside first. Betty tried not to faint.
"Might I take your coat, Miss -"
"You can call me Betty," she offered for the umpteenth time as she shrugged off her giant winter coat and handed it to him. She took a moment to stare around the foyer, her eyes stopping on each detail. The molding around the corners, what looked like vintage lighting fixtures hanging on the walls, the paintings on the wall, and the grand staircase which she was sure she'd fall over. "Wow. Oh, wow, this is… wow."
"Thank you," Bruce chuckled softly and even though he was watching her, Betty couldn't stop herself from continuing to stare.
"Seven thirty, sir, for dinner?" Alfred inquired.
He nodded. "That's fine. When you get a chance, will you bring drinks to the sitting room? Maybe in thirty minutes."
"Of course, sir." With that, the butler stepped back slightly before he turned and left through one of the many doorways which led into the main foyer.
Betty continued to stare and Bruce cleared his throat. "Would you like to sit down?"
"Oh. Um… sure?" She was used to trotting behind Bruce, having to catch up with his longer strides. She did so now, hurrying after him as he walked towards one of the many doorways. "It really is a nice house-er, manor," she said again, because it was the only thing that was coming to mind. She took another three giant steps to catch up with her boss. "It's different-" she paused to catch her breath. "-- Than the pictures."
"So they say," Bruce said knowingly; Betty could tell that obviously she was not the first one who'd expressed the sentiments upon walking into the home.
She tried her hardest to stop gawking, but eventually had to face up to the fact that it simply wasn't going to happen. Her eyes simply seemed to grow wider when they entered the gorgeous wooden paneled sitting room. A fire was already crackling and popping in the fireplace and her eyes were immediately pulled over towards it and eventually to the mantle above. It was picture perfect, literally. Alfred obviously kept the place spotless, Betty couldn't see a speck of dust on any of the vases, picture frames, or glass pieces that sat atop it. She vaguely wondered who'd picked out the pieces, because it seemed as if there had almost certainly been a woman's touch involved. Maybe the woman in the large, painted portrait hanging above the mantle.
He was much younger in the portrait, maybe seven or eight, but Betty could tell it was Bruce. She figured that the older couple in the picture had to have been his parents. She turned around to maybe ask Bruce about the picture, but found that he'd kept walking, stopping beside a grandfather clock that fit in seamlessly with the rest of the room's décor. She opened her mouth to speak, but found that the only words that wanted to come out were another round of 'you have a gorgeous house'.
Bruce cleared his throat, snapping Betty out of her thoughts. "I was hoping that we could talk before dinner."
She was extremely glad he'd spoken before she had, preventing her from saying anything immediately idiotic. "Oh, yeah. Of course?" She reached up and scratched her head. "I mean, I figured this wasn't just a social thing. Like… well, is everything alright? Um… I really like working for you?" Okay, she hadn't meant for that to sound like a question. She did like working for Bruce; meetings (well, dinners) like this made her nervous. She couldn't help scratching her head again. She scratched when she was nervous.
"You don't have anything to worry about, Betty," Bruce told her, pivoting to face the grandfather clock. "You're an excellent assistant, which is why I asked you here tonight."
She watched as he reached up and did a rather peculiar thing, opening up the glass face of the clock and reaching in to touch the clock hands. Quickly, she looked down at her own smaller and much less fancy watch to see if the time on the clock had been that off. "It's six thirty-fi-"
There was a loud echoing scraping wood against wood. Or perhaps it wasn't so loud, but because she'd been the only one in the room talking, it seemed that way to her. Betty stopped speaking and looked up from her tiny watch to the giant clock which was now swinging open to reveal a darkened and ominous looking stairwell. A secret passageway.
The house was obviously old, Betty thought to herself, but this was ridiculous.
"I wasn't exactly sure of how to do this, which is odd for me, I'll admit" Bruce said, clasping his hands in front of him. "But if you'll follow me?" And then he turned again, melding almost perfectly with the darkness as he started down the hidden staircase.
Betty gulped audibly, her body frozen in place as she watched Bruce slowly disappear. For once, she had to remind herself to blink. She reached up and scratched her face again, vaguely wondering if this was all giving her some sort of rash.
"Oh my God."
--
Bruce did not turn around to see whether or not Betty would follow him down into the Cave. He'd made the decision to tell her this, but he wouldn't force it on her and best that she decline before seeing anything. There was nothing wrong with an eccentric billionaire having a secret passage in his large and very old home. He could always simply turn around and return back into the sitting room, play it off like some sort of joke. Betty was used to his somewhat odd behaviour at times; he could pass this off easily.
He descended further into the cave and then stopped, once again waiting to see if the sounds of footsteps would follow him. Did he want her to follow him? Yes, he did, in a way. And then, in a way, he knew it would be better for Betty herself if she were to simply completely remove herself from his life. All aspects of it. On the other hand, he liked the girl and… perhaps there was a part of him that felt the need to let someone he liked and trusted in on his double life, and on his own terms. Rachel had figured it out, though given the circumstances it hadn't been much of a stretch. But she'd figured it out for herself and because of his secrets she'd left.
Betty was-well, to say more than an assistant would seem too cliché, Bruce thought to himself, but he genuinely cared for her. They were… maybe friends. Friends? No, maybe that was too hasty. Whatever their relationship had turned into, Bruce didn't want to lose it over an illy timed reveal on his part. He didn't want to scare her away from the job, but they'd come to a point where she could no longer continue to do the job unless she knew the full truth.
It was a burden, one he had no right to place on someone else.
He very nearly turned around and he would have, but the sound of Betty's sensible rubber heels clomping down the stone stairs hurrying to catch up stopped him from changing his mind. Bruce let out a breath he honestly had not realized he'd been holding.
"Y-you know," he could hear Betty's nervous voice echoing down the stairs. "Um… if this is the part where you go crazy and kill me with a chainsaw or something, could you knock me out first? Or… something?" Her voice squeaked at the end, indicating a slight stumble on her part. Bruce stopped and decided it was time to let her catch up.
"Here," he said, offering her his elbow so that she could keep her balance while her eyes adjusted to the dim light. He'd been doing this longer than she had and hopefully she wouldn't have much reason to return to the Cave.
The Cave? Well, it was really to emphasize the point. "I'm not going to kill you, I promise."
"Is it a hidden sex fetish room?" Betty blurted out a few moments later. She blushed almost instantly; he could see it through the darkness. "Sorry. At Mode there was a hidden S&M room in Christina's office. I-It opened when you pulled on an orange Manolo. Apparently Faye Summers was… interesting? Maybe that's not the word. Um… she liked sex. I guess. And… well, that's not the point. I'm preconditioned to think that rich people with secret rooms like S&M."
Bruce decided it was wisest simply not to respond to that. It wasn't needed, as they both stepped onto the final stair and then the stone landing of the Cave proper. There wasn't much sound to be heard besides the dripping of water from the stalactites overhead to the cave floor. The water, of course, dripped nowhere around the main computer, medical area, or any of the equipment, Bruce and Alfred had thought through that a good deal of time before construction in the cave had begun. The area into which Bruce led Betty now was dry as a bone and dark until he spoke, lowering his voice to something dark which tended to chill the bones of every criminal who heard it. "Lights."
The Cave was illuminated immediately.
"Ay dios mio."
Funny, how Bruce was the one shocked, turning almost instantly to face Betty after she spoke when he realized that he'd never once heard her speak Spanish before. He'd just assumed that she didn't. They stood in the Cave in all its glory. Betty's eyes jumped from place to place while Bruce's eyes stayed very firmly planted on the girl herself. Would she run, or hold her ground? There was no need for him to stare around… he'd seen it all before.
There was one thing left to be done. "Case lights," he spoke in the same gravely voice.
Silence for a moment and then the not quite clunking sound of Betty's thick heels as she walked slowly towards the brightest light in the room. It was a large glass case, lit from the inside with three large lights lining the top and bottom. It would have been unremarkable but for the large black suit with stood immaculately in the very center. Her eyes were fixated on it, Bruce could see, fixated on the only bit of color on the suit, the yellow belt hanging around the waist.
Odd, he thought, most eyes found the black bat symbol on his chest and stayed there. The belt was of no consequence.
"Betty?" He didn't want her to go into shock and she hadn't said anything since her utterance to God. He was wondering if there was perhaps a better way he should have done this, but showing and not telling had originally seemed the best way. "Betty," he started again. "I-"
"This is an expensive fetish, Bruce." Betty turned around from the glass case and looked at him, biting her lip and reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. She pushed her glasses up on her nose. "It's a really expensive fetish. Wow." She let out a breath and finally brought her eyes up to meet his. It didn't seem she was going anywhere.
"Do you understand what this is?" he asked her, matching her glance. "Do you -"
He stopped as Betty held up her hand. "You've got a bat and rubber thing," she said, pointing back at the case. She seemed not to be able to help but look back over to the large computer screen in the middle of the Cave. "Does Alfred -"
"Alfred knows." It was his turn to interrupt and he stepped forward to join Betty closer to the costume's case. He glanced down at her. "It's Kevlar, by the way. Not rubber."
"Right," she said, giving a small, shaky laugh. "Sorry, Faye would have had rubber. And leather."
Smiling was not something Bruce often did within the Cave's walls, but he did so now. Betty, more often than not, tended to bring out those unfamiliar quirks of his lips and in the most inappropriate of places.
"So I guess you weren't lying when you said you liked spelunking…" Her voice trailed off and she awkwardly placed her hands at her sides, clenching and unclenching her fingers. "Wow. This… this explains the makeup. No, um, it explains much more than the makeup."
He nodded. "I'm sorry I had to lie to you, but this isn't something that comes lightly. I'm still not completely convinced that I had any right to bring you into this, but Alfred… Alfred was right as always." Something he'd come to accept in his years living with Alfred was that the older man was always right. It was a face of life that made little sense to try and argue. "You need to know this to do the job. If you still want the job." It was a fear he had and had admitted to himself (better to admit it than push it away), that she would leave upon finding out some of his more… eccentric behavior. Just like Rachel.
Betty licked her lips nervously. "Bruce? Alex Meade came back from the dead as a gorgeous woman named Alexis. Claire Meade is in jail because she apparently killed Faye Summers who, do I have to say it again? Had a sex dungeon in the back of my friend's office. I think I'm almost glad that this is it." She jabbed her finger at the case, turning to look at the costume. "I-I mean, when it comes to rich people doing weird things, this has got to be normal. A-At least it's… useful. You…" Betty chewed on her thumb for a moment. "You saved my life. My purse."
"That was luck." His face darkened slightly as his mind returned to that night. He hadn't actually been following her that evening. It had been a simply lucky chance that had led him to following her eventual assailants. He'd not lingered long afterwards, handing Betty back her purse before pulling his usual disappearing act. "And you need to be more careful. This is Gotham."
"Yeah, I'm getting that," Betty muttered. "Geeze, and I'm from New York. Though, I guess it helps when you don't have an asylum sitting a mile away."
"It helps," Bruce agreed. "This… it started there. In a way."
She looked up at him, a curious glint in her eye. "It did?"
"Yes." He gave a short nod and stepped forward to the case. There was a switch on the side of the case which he toggled to manually turn off the light. The 'Voice' wasn't something he used lightly and she had already heard it twice. "We should go back upstairs; Alfred should have dinner ready I'm sure you have… questions." Not to mention Alfred would have his head for keeping her down in a drafty cave for too long with no coat.
She scratched her head. Same spot she'd been scratching all night and he wanted to make sure that she had skin left there by the end of the evening. "Questions would be putting it lightly," she said, letting out a breath and a smile at the same time. In a motion that took Bruce by surprise once again, Betty reached up and patted his shoulder. "But… I can wait until the first course."
"You're alright with this?" Bruce asked cautiously, looking at her hand. "You're not under any obligation to stay on and I wouldn't -"
"Bruce." Her fingers squeezed slightly. "Alex to Alexis. Murderer. Sex dungeon. You're… Batman." She let go of his shoulder and smiled with the tiniest of shrugs. "Wow, that's really cool. You're Batman."
Betty grinned up at him, scratched her head again, and then turned, heading back to the stairs which lead back to the clock. "Alfred'll be mad if we're late for dinner." She pointed to the stairs as she looked back at Bruce, consequently tripping over her feet as she stepped up.
Alfred would be much angrier if Betty was somehow hurt and Bruce didn't much like the thought either. He moved to her side again, offering his assistance and his elbow once more for making their way back up the stairs. "Thank you," he said.
"Thank you?"
Bruce nodded. "You took the news better than most."
"I've dealt with worse than most." She shrugged again.
"I'm not sure you have."
"People coming back from the dead."
"Fear gas poisoning the entire city."
"My boss' mom killing her ex-husband's wife."
"An ancient order of soldiers tried to purge my home."
"Anna Wintour threw her Blackberry at me."
"Delusional clowns constantly escaping from prison."
"I'm Batman's personal assistant."
Bruce stopped on the stairs, pausing and looking at her thoughtfully before nodding. "You win."
Fandom: Batman Begins/Ugly Betty
Characters/Pairing: Betty Suarez, Bruce Wayne, and Alfred Pennyworth
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,434
Summary: Revelations.
Notes: This is the seventh part in a rather unusual crossover which takes place after Season one of Ugly Betty and the end of Batman Begins; it's AU from there.
Here it is, as promised! I'm thinking... weekendish for the next update.
• Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, and Part 6.
"Oh my God."
They were absolutely the only words Betty could force out of her mouth as the black car pulled up in front of what she had always jokingly called 'Stately Wayne Manor'. Stately, she decided very quickly, didn't even begin to cover it. She probably wouldn't ever call it 'stately' again. Maybe… 'palace-like'. It didn't have the same ring to it, to be honest, but it was way more apt of a term, in her opinion. Somehow it just hadn't looked so huge in the pictures. Of course she'd know that it was going to be impressive -anything that could call itself a manor would be - but this place looked like it probably had stables. And maybe a twenty car garage. Not to mention acres and acres of land for things like… fox hunting. Yes, fox hunting.
Did they even do that anymore?
"Hm?"
Betty dragged her eyes away from the car window and tried to reign in the look of shock, awe, and 'I have never seen a house this big in my entire life' off of her face before faced Bruce. "Um. Nothing. You, uh... you have a lovely home." She said, blinking madly.
The car came to a smooth stop in front of the manor's front steps. Betty gulped slightly; the place looked intimidating both intimidating and foreboding. "You really live here by yourself?"
"It's been in the family for generations." She took that as a yes.
"I'd feel kind of lonely…"
Bruce raised an eyebrow as he looked over at her. "You have my schedule memorized, how much time do you think I spend here?"
Betty scratched her head and gave him a bemused smile. "Good point." She jumped in slight shock when the door opened seemingly of its own accord. It was only Alfred, of course, and he did this every time she traveled with Bruce, but he still scared her every time. It took a good deal of restraint for her not to simply open the door herself, though she did try her hardest because she knew Alfred held a good deal of stock in his job. Sitting on her hands (and ignoring Bruce's odd looks when she did so) was really the best solution.
"And Alfred's your… only, um, person?" she couldn't help but ask, because the place was huge and she couldn't at all imagine one person taking care of it all, especially not Alfred. He was wonderful, but he was no spring chicken.
"After my parents were killed Alfred was the one who raised me," Bruce answered. He leaned back in his seat so that Betty could exit the car first. That was another thing she was finally becoming used to, manners. Actual gentlemanly manners. Daniel had been polite enough, but Bruce had a butler and a manor. His sort of gentlemanliness was old world. As she waited by the steps Betty felt almost as if she'd been transported back into the early twentieth century, and she was dressed completely wrong for the part.
Amanda would have had the perfect flapper outfit, Betty just knew it.
"This way, Miss. Suarez," Alfred was saying. Betty looked up and saw Bruce standing on her left and Alfred standing on her right. Bruce nodded, indicating that it was alright to follow and she did, only just managing not to trip up the stairs. She clutched the strap on her shoulder tightly and tried not to look horribly uncomfortable as Alfred pulled open one of the giant wooden doors and then stepped aside. Bruce too stepped aside, apparently expecting Betty to walk inside first. Betty tried not to faint.
"Might I take your coat, Miss -"
"You can call me Betty," she offered for the umpteenth time as she shrugged off her giant winter coat and handed it to him. She took a moment to stare around the foyer, her eyes stopping on each detail. The molding around the corners, what looked like vintage lighting fixtures hanging on the walls, the paintings on the wall, and the grand staircase which she was sure she'd fall over. "Wow. Oh, wow, this is… wow."
"Thank you," Bruce chuckled softly and even though he was watching her, Betty couldn't stop herself from continuing to stare.
"Seven thirty, sir, for dinner?" Alfred inquired.
He nodded. "That's fine. When you get a chance, will you bring drinks to the sitting room? Maybe in thirty minutes."
"Of course, sir." With that, the butler stepped back slightly before he turned and left through one of the many doorways which led into the main foyer.
Betty continued to stare and Bruce cleared his throat. "Would you like to sit down?"
"Oh. Um… sure?" She was used to trotting behind Bruce, having to catch up with his longer strides. She did so now, hurrying after him as he walked towards one of the many doorways. "It really is a nice house-er, manor," she said again, because it was the only thing that was coming to mind. She took another three giant steps to catch up with her boss. "It's different-" she paused to catch her breath. "-- Than the pictures."
"So they say," Bruce said knowingly; Betty could tell that obviously she was not the first one who'd expressed the sentiments upon walking into the home.
She tried her hardest to stop gawking, but eventually had to face up to the fact that it simply wasn't going to happen. Her eyes simply seemed to grow wider when they entered the gorgeous wooden paneled sitting room. A fire was already crackling and popping in the fireplace and her eyes were immediately pulled over towards it and eventually to the mantle above. It was picture perfect, literally. Alfred obviously kept the place spotless, Betty couldn't see a speck of dust on any of the vases, picture frames, or glass pieces that sat atop it. She vaguely wondered who'd picked out the pieces, because it seemed as if there had almost certainly been a woman's touch involved. Maybe the woman in the large, painted portrait hanging above the mantle.
He was much younger in the portrait, maybe seven or eight, but Betty could tell it was Bruce. She figured that the older couple in the picture had to have been his parents. She turned around to maybe ask Bruce about the picture, but found that he'd kept walking, stopping beside a grandfather clock that fit in seamlessly with the rest of the room's décor. She opened her mouth to speak, but found that the only words that wanted to come out were another round of 'you have a gorgeous house'.
Bruce cleared his throat, snapping Betty out of her thoughts. "I was hoping that we could talk before dinner."
She was extremely glad he'd spoken before she had, preventing her from saying anything immediately idiotic. "Oh, yeah. Of course?" She reached up and scratched her head. "I mean, I figured this wasn't just a social thing. Like… well, is everything alright? Um… I really like working for you?" Okay, she hadn't meant for that to sound like a question. She did like working for Bruce; meetings (well, dinners) like this made her nervous. She couldn't help scratching her head again. She scratched when she was nervous.
"You don't have anything to worry about, Betty," Bruce told her, pivoting to face the grandfather clock. "You're an excellent assistant, which is why I asked you here tonight."
She watched as he reached up and did a rather peculiar thing, opening up the glass face of the clock and reaching in to touch the clock hands. Quickly, she looked down at her own smaller and much less fancy watch to see if the time on the clock had been that off. "It's six thirty-fi-"
There was a loud echoing scraping wood against wood. Or perhaps it wasn't so loud, but because she'd been the only one in the room talking, it seemed that way to her. Betty stopped speaking and looked up from her tiny watch to the giant clock which was now swinging open to reveal a darkened and ominous looking stairwell. A secret passageway.
The house was obviously old, Betty thought to herself, but this was ridiculous.
"I wasn't exactly sure of how to do this, which is odd for me, I'll admit" Bruce said, clasping his hands in front of him. "But if you'll follow me?" And then he turned again, melding almost perfectly with the darkness as he started down the hidden staircase.
Betty gulped audibly, her body frozen in place as she watched Bruce slowly disappear. For once, she had to remind herself to blink. She reached up and scratched her face again, vaguely wondering if this was all giving her some sort of rash.
"Oh my God."
--
Bruce did not turn around to see whether or not Betty would follow him down into the Cave. He'd made the decision to tell her this, but he wouldn't force it on her and best that she decline before seeing anything. There was nothing wrong with an eccentric billionaire having a secret passage in his large and very old home. He could always simply turn around and return back into the sitting room, play it off like some sort of joke. Betty was used to his somewhat odd behaviour at times; he could pass this off easily.
He descended further into the cave and then stopped, once again waiting to see if the sounds of footsteps would follow him. Did he want her to follow him? Yes, he did, in a way. And then, in a way, he knew it would be better for Betty herself if she were to simply completely remove herself from his life. All aspects of it. On the other hand, he liked the girl and… perhaps there was a part of him that felt the need to let someone he liked and trusted in on his double life, and on his own terms. Rachel had figured it out, though given the circumstances it hadn't been much of a stretch. But she'd figured it out for herself and because of his secrets she'd left.
Betty was-well, to say more than an assistant would seem too cliché, Bruce thought to himself, but he genuinely cared for her. They were… maybe friends. Friends? No, maybe that was too hasty. Whatever their relationship had turned into, Bruce didn't want to lose it over an illy timed reveal on his part. He didn't want to scare her away from the job, but they'd come to a point where she could no longer continue to do the job unless she knew the full truth.
It was a burden, one he had no right to place on someone else.
He very nearly turned around and he would have, but the sound of Betty's sensible rubber heels clomping down the stone stairs hurrying to catch up stopped him from changing his mind. Bruce let out a breath he honestly had not realized he'd been holding.
"Y-you know," he could hear Betty's nervous voice echoing down the stairs. "Um… if this is the part where you go crazy and kill me with a chainsaw or something, could you knock me out first? Or… something?" Her voice squeaked at the end, indicating a slight stumble on her part. Bruce stopped and decided it was time to let her catch up.
"Here," he said, offering her his elbow so that she could keep her balance while her eyes adjusted to the dim light. He'd been doing this longer than she had and hopefully she wouldn't have much reason to return to the Cave.
The Cave? Well, it was really to emphasize the point. "I'm not going to kill you, I promise."
"Is it a hidden sex fetish room?" Betty blurted out a few moments later. She blushed almost instantly; he could see it through the darkness. "Sorry. At Mode there was a hidden S&M room in Christina's office. I-It opened when you pulled on an orange Manolo. Apparently Faye Summers was… interesting? Maybe that's not the word. Um… she liked sex. I guess. And… well, that's not the point. I'm preconditioned to think that rich people with secret rooms like S&M."
Bruce decided it was wisest simply not to respond to that. It wasn't needed, as they both stepped onto the final stair and then the stone landing of the Cave proper. There wasn't much sound to be heard besides the dripping of water from the stalactites overhead to the cave floor. The water, of course, dripped nowhere around the main computer, medical area, or any of the equipment, Bruce and Alfred had thought through that a good deal of time before construction in the cave had begun. The area into which Bruce led Betty now was dry as a bone and dark until he spoke, lowering his voice to something dark which tended to chill the bones of every criminal who heard it. "Lights."
The Cave was illuminated immediately.
"Ay dios mio."
Funny, how Bruce was the one shocked, turning almost instantly to face Betty after she spoke when he realized that he'd never once heard her speak Spanish before. He'd just assumed that she didn't. They stood in the Cave in all its glory. Betty's eyes jumped from place to place while Bruce's eyes stayed very firmly planted on the girl herself. Would she run, or hold her ground? There was no need for him to stare around… he'd seen it all before.
There was one thing left to be done. "Case lights," he spoke in the same gravely voice.
Silence for a moment and then the not quite clunking sound of Betty's thick heels as she walked slowly towards the brightest light in the room. It was a large glass case, lit from the inside with three large lights lining the top and bottom. It would have been unremarkable but for the large black suit with stood immaculately in the very center. Her eyes were fixated on it, Bruce could see, fixated on the only bit of color on the suit, the yellow belt hanging around the waist.
Odd, he thought, most eyes found the black bat symbol on his chest and stayed there. The belt was of no consequence.
"Betty?" He didn't want her to go into shock and she hadn't said anything since her utterance to God. He was wondering if there was perhaps a better way he should have done this, but showing and not telling had originally seemed the best way. "Betty," he started again. "I-"
"This is an expensive fetish, Bruce." Betty turned around from the glass case and looked at him, biting her lip and reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. She pushed her glasses up on her nose. "It's a really expensive fetish. Wow." She let out a breath and finally brought her eyes up to meet his. It didn't seem she was going anywhere.
"Do you understand what this is?" he asked her, matching her glance. "Do you -"
He stopped as Betty held up her hand. "You've got a bat and rubber thing," she said, pointing back at the case. She seemed not to be able to help but look back over to the large computer screen in the middle of the Cave. "Does Alfred -"
"Alfred knows." It was his turn to interrupt and he stepped forward to join Betty closer to the costume's case. He glanced down at her. "It's Kevlar, by the way. Not rubber."
"Right," she said, giving a small, shaky laugh. "Sorry, Faye would have had rubber. And leather."
Smiling was not something Bruce often did within the Cave's walls, but he did so now. Betty, more often than not, tended to bring out those unfamiliar quirks of his lips and in the most inappropriate of places.
"So I guess you weren't lying when you said you liked spelunking…" Her voice trailed off and she awkwardly placed her hands at her sides, clenching and unclenching her fingers. "Wow. This… this explains the makeup. No, um, it explains much more than the makeup."
He nodded. "I'm sorry I had to lie to you, but this isn't something that comes lightly. I'm still not completely convinced that I had any right to bring you into this, but Alfred… Alfred was right as always." Something he'd come to accept in his years living with Alfred was that the older man was always right. It was a face of life that made little sense to try and argue. "You need to know this to do the job. If you still want the job." It was a fear he had and had admitted to himself (better to admit it than push it away), that she would leave upon finding out some of his more… eccentric behavior. Just like Rachel.
Betty licked her lips nervously. "Bruce? Alex Meade came back from the dead as a gorgeous woman named Alexis. Claire Meade is in jail because she apparently killed Faye Summers who, do I have to say it again? Had a sex dungeon in the back of my friend's office. I think I'm almost glad that this is it." She jabbed her finger at the case, turning to look at the costume. "I-I mean, when it comes to rich people doing weird things, this has got to be normal. A-At least it's… useful. You…" Betty chewed on her thumb for a moment. "You saved my life. My purse."
"That was luck." His face darkened slightly as his mind returned to that night. He hadn't actually been following her that evening. It had been a simply lucky chance that had led him to following her eventual assailants. He'd not lingered long afterwards, handing Betty back her purse before pulling his usual disappearing act. "And you need to be more careful. This is Gotham."
"Yeah, I'm getting that," Betty muttered. "Geeze, and I'm from New York. Though, I guess it helps when you don't have an asylum sitting a mile away."
"It helps," Bruce agreed. "This… it started there. In a way."
She looked up at him, a curious glint in her eye. "It did?"
"Yes." He gave a short nod and stepped forward to the case. There was a switch on the side of the case which he toggled to manually turn off the light. The 'Voice' wasn't something he used lightly and she had already heard it twice. "We should go back upstairs; Alfred should have dinner ready I'm sure you have… questions." Not to mention Alfred would have his head for keeping her down in a drafty cave for too long with no coat.
She scratched her head. Same spot she'd been scratching all night and he wanted to make sure that she had skin left there by the end of the evening. "Questions would be putting it lightly," she said, letting out a breath and a smile at the same time. In a motion that took Bruce by surprise once again, Betty reached up and patted his shoulder. "But… I can wait until the first course."
"You're alright with this?" Bruce asked cautiously, looking at her hand. "You're not under any obligation to stay on and I wouldn't -"
"Bruce." Her fingers squeezed slightly. "Alex to Alexis. Murderer. Sex dungeon. You're… Batman." She let go of his shoulder and smiled with the tiniest of shrugs. "Wow, that's really cool. You're Batman."
Betty grinned up at him, scratched her head again, and then turned, heading back to the stairs which lead back to the clock. "Alfred'll be mad if we're late for dinner." She pointed to the stairs as she looked back at Bruce, consequently tripping over her feet as she stepped up.
Alfred would be much angrier if Betty was somehow hurt and Bruce didn't much like the thought either. He moved to her side again, offering his assistance and his elbow once more for making their way back up the stairs. "Thank you," he said.
"Thank you?"
Bruce nodded. "You took the news better than most."
"I've dealt with worse than most." She shrugged again.
"I'm not sure you have."
"People coming back from the dead."
"Fear gas poisoning the entire city."
"My boss' mom killing her ex-husband's wife."
"An ancient order of soldiers tried to purge my home."
"Anna Wintour threw her Blackberry at me."
"Delusional clowns constantly escaping from prison."
"I'm Batman's personal assistant."
Bruce stopped on the stairs, pausing and looking at her thoughtfully before nodding. "You win."