Betty and the Bat
Title: Betty and the Bat (Ficlet #16)
Fandom: Batman Begins/Ugly Betty
Characters/Pairing: Betty Suarez, Bruce Wayne, and Selina Kyle
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4,439
Summary: And so this is the end. What happened? Find out through several POVs.
Notes: This is the 15th 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.
• Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part14, and Part 15
I.
He was a gentleman. How could she have ever thought any different? He was quite the gentleman, wrapping his coat around her shoulders and hugging her close to his side. He wasn't going to let her go, she felt, and that knowledge was a comfort. He wasn't Bruce. He wasn't knocking down criminals and limping back to her with cracked ribs and a valiantly earned black eye. But that was alright. He'd put his arm around her instead, and he wouldn't let go.
"Ms. Suarez?"
The voice was jarring, more so than the cold air and snow falling on her hair and glasses. As soon as she got someplace warm her glasses were going to fog up something awful.
"Ms. Suarez, I'm sorry, but we're going to have to ask you a few questions."
Betty looked up for what seemed like the first time since they'd managed to escape the building. It took her a moment to adjust to the light, or perhaps the lack there of. She'd been staring down at the snow, fresh and bright as it was underneath the never ending light of Gotham City. When she looked up it was into the dark eyes of two police officers who she'd never seen before. Not that she was on first name basis with many GPD officers, but she was at least familiar with the likes of James Gordon. Honestly, a familiar face would have done her well.
She had Daniel, at least. "You can't do this later?"
"No, Mr. Meade. We need her statement for-"
"It's okay." Betty blinked as she spoke. Snow was landing just above her brow and melting before dripping down into her eyes. She reached up to wipe away some of the dampness, only stopping when she remembered that it was Daniel's coat sleeve she was about to get soggy with melted snow, makeup, and likely a good deal of hair spray. She settled for just wiping her hands with her eyes instead. "Ow," she mumbled. Her eyes stung a bit.
"Are you sure, Betty?" Daniel asked. His tone was soft, adding a new quality to his voice; one she'd never heard before. He really was full of surprises tonight.
She nodded, and it seemed that was all the two officers needed to launch into what would prove to be the beginning in a series of seemingly never ending questions and answers.
"Can you tell us what happened, Ms. Suarez?"
--
"Where did the costume come from?" She had a knack for thinking and saying inappropriate things at inappropriate times. It wasn't a very useful talent.
"Does it matter? He's here, isn't that enough?"
"Oh. No, you're right." She had to stop saying these inappropriate things out loud. "I-It's good he's here."
Admittedly, Betty was still wondering where the costume had come from. It seemed like she'd run from Bruce just five minutes ago. She could barely remember how she'd gotten from Daniel to Bruce to Christina, but she knew damned well that Bruce had not been wearing the heavy leather and Kevlar black suit when he'd sent her running away in the other direction. Maybe it wasn't important -no, in the scheme of things it definitely was not important- but she really did wonder how he'd gotten that suit on so quickly.
"You know everything I said about this guy not existing?" Christina asked slowly. "I take it back."
Betty nodded with a gulp. "I'd say I told you so, but I don't think this is the time for that." She had the feeling the Bruce would be completely unenthralled with this conversation to begin with. He'd told her to get out of the building. Yet here she was, standing ten feet from the door with a perfectly clear route of escape and instead of leaving, she was staring and yapping with her best friend as if this were an empty hallway in Mode. She was going to hear about this tomorrow, no doubt.
It wasn't her fault. She was from New York, but she never saw this sort of thing in Queens. Hell, this sort of thing didn't happen in Midtown Manhattan. She'd never actually seen her boss in action. That one night at the train station didn't count, and even she could tell that this 'Joker' was more of an opponent than those two muggers had been.
"We need to get out of here, Betty." Christina had the right idea. They'd all just barely managed to avoid being shot, Batman's appearance completely diverting the Joker's attentions from the crowd. It was the Batman he'd come here for, after all. Betty felt as if she was only just beginning to understand what Bruce had been trying to tell her.
He knew. Right. She got it now.
Betty couldn't help feeling the empty spot around her neck again. The missing sensation of cool gold would take a while to become used to. It wasn't something she wanted to become used to either, but it seemed she was going to have to learn. The necklace was trapped in one of the sacks the masked men held. It had almost been like a robbery out of an old movie. Masked men holding brown sacks and ripping jewelry from women's necks, fingers, and ears while firing guns into the crowd in a frenzy. But Betty suspected that their leader could have cared less about the jewelry. It was likely just a bonus in all this. His henchmen had fallen back to the sides once Batman made his presence known, ordered to stand down and away as the Joker took center stage. It was as if the clown forgot the bystanders altogether as his attentions zeroed in on her boss.
Betty felt Christina grab her hand, squeezing it tightly and trying to drag her along, but she really was glued to her spot on the floor. People were pushing past her on their way out, but her feet would not move. Maybe they were all jaded Gothamites, but Betty, for one, wanted to see Batman work. Call it a morbid curiosity. Or, simply call it something that could end up killing her.
Either way, it wasn't safe.
II.
"He spoke like a lolcat."
"What?"
Justin Suarez couldn't help but look slightly exasperated when he looked up at the officer. "He spoke," he repeated slowly, as if he through the cop might have had some sort of mental deficiency. "Like a lolcat." He looked from the questioning officer back to James Gordon and his daughter, Barbara. It was only the girl who gave him any sort of sign that she understood what he meant.
She nodded. "He did, dad. 'Why so serious'. He kept saying it over and over again."
"Like a lolcat," Justin attempted to explain again. "You know… I can has cheeseburger?"
The other officer's stare quickly turned into a glower, the likes of which he'd never seen before. The NYPD had nothing on this. Though it made sense- they weren't dealing with this brand of psychopath day after day. "You think this is funny? We're trying to conduct an investigation here, and-"
"Hey, hey. Lay off the kid." Justin was glad for the commissioner's interruption. He didn't even mind when the older man put his hand down on the shoulder of his Armani suit. It had been ruined enough during the course of the evening as it was. Crawling across the floor and trying to avoid being shot while your mom squeezed you near hard enough to kill you herself did not do wonders for designer suits. "Justin, right? Where’s your mother?"
"I was with her over there," The thirteen year old pointed to a group of ambulances, circled like wagons on a prairie. It was hard to see anything, really, past the blur of EMTs, stretchers, and snow. "She hit her head."
"Is she alright?" Gordon asked.
"She's in beauty school. We've seen worse." Well, it was true, Justin thought. His mom had survived plenty of hot comb burns in the past and the EMT treating her had been very sure that it wasn't bad enough to be a concussion. That was the only reason he wasn't over there. That, and the fact that the Metropolis cop hadn't given him much of a choice.
"Good, good." He nodded in Justin's direction before turning to Barbara. "Go wait in the car, this won't take long."
"But I can has cheeseburger," Barbara said simply, looking up at her father and not moving a inch. "You need me to translate."
"Why so serious," Justin said, nodding in agreement.
The commissioner sighed. He placed his hands just behind the two teenagers, pointing them in the direction of the EMTs. "Come on. Maybe your mother can tell us more."
--
His henchmen all looked a bit like him. Variations on a theme, as it were. All were white and clown faced with giant spots of blush around the cheeks. The features of the masks varied in size; big noses, small ears, wide lips… nearly everything was represented. The lips -- big or small, thick or thin - were consistently turned downwards, forming ugly and distorted frowns. It was possible that there was a bit of stitching around the lips, but pity the person who was actually close enough to see.
The masks weren't truly a substitute for the original. They were just masks, after all, and despite the mass scarring and reconstruction, Jack Napier's face was actually quite expressive. Even if that expression was most often a smile, it certainly said something. Insanity, for the most part.
"Glad you could join us, Bats!" Perhaps it was the fact that was a genuine excitement in his voice that made the hairs on the back of the hero's neck stand up as they did. He was used to shouted cursing and screaming upon his arrival, never excitement. But the Joker was nothing if not unpredictable and the epitome of the atypical villain.
He actually preferred the others he faced. The corny gimmicks and propensity for idle chatter which was almost always their downfall in the end- when would they learn that soliloquies were not the answer?
The Joker was a rather loquacious fellow, as Alfred had once commented, but his speech seemed to aid him if anything. While other so-called 'super villains' could hypnotise themselves into believing their delusions of grandeur with the sounds of their own voices, the Joker's voice lacked that one adverse affect. His penchant for prattle was simply annoying. Distracting, even, though Batman would be loathe to admit it.
It continued between them as it had since they'd first been 'introduced'. The more stoic in his silence Batman proved to be, the more Jack Napier spoke. It was grating.
"I knew you'd come."
Most of the guests had been able to escape the room once he'd arrived. As usual, his presence had completely captivated the Joker's attentions. They had something of a relationship, the two of them, and he was beginning to believe that this habit of terrorizing innocent citizens was about more than the money and jewelry shoved into the nondescript brown sacks. The clown had eyes for no one else and most had taken advantage of this. There were still a few, too captivated to leave.
He and Betty would be having words later.
"That's right, Bats-for-Brains." The clown took a moment, twirling around in a circle and shooting his gun off at the ceiling. He stopped, slamming his foot down to the floor and staring straight into Batman's eyes. "I knew you would be here." A steady stream of laughter filled the room and he slapped his knee with his free hand before clutching his belly as he doubled over with giggles.
"Here!" he said, looking up just briefly to meet Batman's eyes again. "I knew you'd be here. I know things. I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know! And I'm the only one. Do you feel like we're closer now? Like we've bonded, old chum? I feel so much closer."
Alfred Pennyworth, Betty Suarez, Clark Kent, Selina Kyle, Jack Napier… one of those names was not like the others.
He would admit to nothing. The mask certainly helped to keep his face blank, though the muscles in his face were still as ever. There was no visual reaction on his part to the Joker's revelations. Napier may as well have admitted to eating an apple for all the response Batman would give him. It was instead a call to action. Batman jumped from the dais on which he'd been standing, slamming into the Joker's shoulder with a perfectly aimed kick. The telltale dislocating pop was damned satisfying.
III.
"It didn't look that bad in person, actually," Christina mused underneath her breath.
"What didn't, ma'am?"
She couldn't help the look she pulled at being ma'amed. It made her feel rather old. "The costume. It didn't look so bad in person. Do you have a pen and paper?"
"Pen and paper?" The Metropolis officer gave her an odd look and it only turned weirder when she reached out and snatched his pen and pad from his hands.
"Pencil would have been better, actually," she muttered. A snowless night would have helped as well. There was snow melting on the small pad, making it damp and nearly unusable. "Just need to change the whole underwear on the outside thing. That's a bit tacky, don't you think?" Christina glanced up at the officer, but it didn't seem like he had an opinion to offer on the matter.
He gave an exasperated sigh. "Whose costume, ma'am?"
"Superman's."
"Superman was there?" he asked.
Christina nodded as she continued her quick sketch of the costume. She was a firm believer of keeping one's underwear underneath their clothing and for Superman that really needed fixing. "For a while, just towards the end. It was after the Joker got away; Superman rounded up all the others. The men in the masks. He got them all."
"How did he get away?"
She turned the sketch pad so that the officer could see the finished redesign. A simple spandex outfit and cape with a lack of extra fabric around the midsection. "Spandex doesn't really agree with anyone, but underwear makes everything worse. And even that's forgetting the fact that it's bright bloody red."
"Ma'am, if we could we get back to the point…"
--
It wasn't a fight of epic proportions. They'd had worse. Their fight at the docks came to mind, but he quickly pushed it away. They were two entirely different situations. Different places, different weapons, different innocent bystanders… the fact that there were innocent bystanders. There was room to work with here, enough room to move around, yet keep the fight contained.
He referred to it in his mind as 'the Clown problem'. It was a problem which he was admittedly having a hard time figuring out how to ultimately solve. How many times had one of their fights ended with the Joker en route back to Arkham? How many times had he escaped? There was a permanent solution, just as there was with all of the thugs he faced on a nightly basis, but the Joker was the only one who actually drove him to that point. He would never do it, of course, but at times like this he wondered if it wouldn't just be easier.
"It's better this way."
"Don't touch me."
Both men stood in silence for a moment, strong jaws tilted down and dark eyes directed towards a crumbling hole in the side of the building, just feet above the floor; the lasting effects of two sets of explosives which Batman hadn't noticed and Superman had been unable to reach in time. Speed meant nothing if you didn't know what you were meant to speed to.
With all that speed, Batman was of the opinion that he could have removed his hand from his arm a good deal faster than he did.
"It's better this way," the other hero repeated. He floated just above the cement roof of the building, arms now crossed at his chest. "You can't kill him."
"I can't keep him in Arkham either. So tell me, what's the better solution?" Batman didn't look up. His eyes stayed focused on the point of explosion. The Clown was long gone, having run past the line of officers and firing aimlessly into the crowd before jumping into a car driven by the only one of his thugs who'd managed to escape. Superman had, at least, taken care of the rest of the masked men. They were crumbled in the corner, tied up in a rather comical way with a piece of rope and a bent and melded metal table leg; a binding which only the red and blue clad hero could fashion.
Superman was silent for a moment before speaking. "This was the better solution."
"Letting him get away?"
"Better than killing someone in my city," he answered in a very matter-of-fact tone. It grated on Batman's nerves just about as much as the Joker's laugh. "It's not as if it's over. There's going to be a night-long manhunt for him, and since you broke every bone in his upper body, he's probably not going to get far."
Batman looked away from the hole in the wall and down to his hand. A sliver of gold chain eked out a space between his fingers. "He's in a car."
"That's never stopped you before," Superman muttered.
He squeezed the gold chain tightly in his hand, unable to feel the bite of the cross' edges beneath the thick rubber of his glove. But he knew it was there. "She's going to want this back."
"Who?"
But Superman made the mistake so many had made and so few had learned from. He'd turned his back and by the time he turned to look again, super-speed and all, Batman had vanished.
IV.
Well, she'd been right. Just a little bit of heat and her glasses steamed right up. Betty could only squint as she removed them from her face and wiped them on her dress with one hand as she balanced a Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate in the other. She could barely see a thing as she went about it, but at least it was warm now.
It was like the Metropolis PD had dealt with this before. Betty was sure they had. Though everything had been in relative disarray in the beginning, things had started to calm down in a slow but steady pattern. Ambulances circled just beyond the yellow police tape surrounding the damaged building. For those who didn't need hospitalization, but did need to be looked over, a large and heated white tent had been set up in near record time. A few nurses and paramedics mulled around inside, but mostly there were people like Betty and Justin Suarez who flitted around worrying about those members of their parties who'd been hurt in the attacks,
"Mom, they told you to lie down!" Justin said with an exasperated sigh.
"And they said it wasn't a concussion," was Hilda's immediate response as she continued to sit up on the small cot she'd been resting upon. She looked at Betty. "Where's Christina?"
"They're still talking to her outside." Betty held her glasses up and looked at them carefully before putting them back over her nose. They were streaked, but at least she could see now. "Are you alright?"
Hilda rolled her eyes. "Will you stop asking me that?"
"No," she answered, pursing her lips and staring at her sister. She handed Hilda the cup of hot chocolate and rubbed at the bare spot just above her chest. "Not until I hear the doctors say you are."
Hilda sighed again and took the offered hot chocolate. It occurred to Betty that she wasn't sure if Hilda was supposed to be drinking or eating anything, but she certainly wasn't going to try and wretch the cup from her hands. She wasn't that crazy.
"Oh my God!"
Both Betty and Hilda very nearly jumped to attention, Hilda just about falling off of the cot and tripping over her dress and heels when she attempted to right herself. The hot chocolate tipped over and spilled out onto the tarp floor, luckily just missing the hems of both of their dresses. Betty jumped back to avoid the spill before reaching down to help her sister up. She looked at Justin as she pulled on Hilda's hand. "What?"
"It's Bruce Wayne!" Justin said, not bothering at all to control the level of his voice or his obviously pointed finger.
Betty guided Hilda back onto the cot before turning to stare small flap opening in the tent. It seemed she wasn't the only one. Bruce tended to cause a commotion anywhere he went, even if it a simple entrance into a simple and unobtrusive tent whose occupants certainly had more to concentrate on than a handsome man.
Handsome? Now where had that come from?
She shook her head quickly and glanced back up, somewhat surprised to see Bruce headed in her direction. It didn't take more than a quick look at Justin bouncing excitedly on his heels to aid in her decision to meet the older man half way. Sometimes it was simply best to run interference when it came to her family. Especially the excitable teens.
She'd not admit it later, but she couldn't help but wonder where the Batsuit had disappeared to and exactly how his designer suit looked as if it was fresh from the cleaners even though she knew that it had to have been removed and tossed somewhere within the past ninety minutes. The mysteries that were Bruce Wayne seemed to be never ending at times and, somehow, the being Batman thing just didn't explain them all.
On nights like this though -- with snow melting in his slightly mussed hair as he walked over to greet her with the absolute slightest of limps - the whole dark and mysterious label really did suit him.
"Are you alright?"
"She was right. That really is an annoying question." Betty looked Bruce up and down, trying to see if she could spot the source of the staggered step. But, as usual, whatever it was, he'd hidden it well. "What about you?"
"I got out," he said simply.
"What about-"
Bruce shook his head. "Later." He reached down into the suit pocket and Betty thought she detected the slightest of winces when he completely extended his elbow. It was a room filled with doctors and she couldn't even get him a pack of ice for fear of giving something away.
She sighed. "You should get home. Alfred's probably boiling hot compresses as we speak."
"I'm going to see Selina home first," he said, and Betty couldn't help but smile slightly. Amanda had bolted into the first limo service out of Metropolis about an hour ago.
"Is she alright?" The annoying question of the evening had to be asked.
"She's fine." He pulled his hand from his pocket and dangling from his fingers was a familiar shimmering of gold. Betty couldn't help her slightly slack-jawed look when she finally got a good look and realized what it was. The small cross stood out like a beacon falling just below his pale hand, but even still she had to look twice. "I think this is yours?"
Had he gone and rescued all the girls' jewelry, or was she just special? Thankfully, Betty managed to keep that particular thought to herself. "Thank you!" She exclaimed instead. "It's was mom's and I… how did you-"
"I found it in the snow," Bruce said pointedly. He stopped her when she reached out to take it from him. "I'll have it fixed for you by Monday."
Betty smiled. "Thank you." He nodded, taking the thanks in stride as he usually did, as if it was little to remark about. Bruce was simply one of those people, though maybe not many knew it. He didn't do these things for the recognition and thanks. He just… did them. It was the right thing to do, so he did it.
Betty canted her head slightly as she looked at him. As much time as she spent considering the mysteries that were Bruce Wayne, sometimes she did consider that the mysteries weren't really important when it came to figuring the man out. The core was all you needed, really, to know what he was about. He did things because they were right.
She had to look away before her smile became too sappy and too infused with feelings that could only have been brought about by the extreme events of the evening. Stress. It was stress that had her looking like this. And who could blame her? She'd looked into the eyes of madman with a permanent smile carved into his face. Betty felt perfectly justified in blaming any and all odd looks or feelings on the clown running free through Gotham and Metropolis.
"...around to the front."
"What? I'm sorry…" Betty ran a hand through her hair, realizing she'd been so lost in thought that she'd missed just about everything he'd said.
"I said Alfred's going to bring the car around, if your sister's ready and the police have finished with Christina," Bruce repeated.
"Oh… thanks. What about you and Selina?"
"We'll manage." He shrugged slightly and upon noticing a slight wince once more, Betty hoped that he really could manage. Gotham was a ways away, and she hadn't seen any sign of that awesome looking car from the Cave.
"Do you need anything else before I tell Hilda and Christina?" A splint, a brace? An ace bandage? Betty did her best keeping those suggestions to herself.
He gave a slow shake of his head and slipped a hand casually into his pocket. "No. Take the weekend. This was… more than you signed on for.
"I think of it as a more advanced form of scouring the city for lost underwear." Her smile turned crooked as she looked at him. She could see a taint of guilt spreading through his features.
"It only gets worse from here and I don't-" He stopped himself, seemingly picking and choosing his words carefully and eventually ending with simplicity. "We'll talk on Monday."
Betty nodded. She reached out tentatively to touch his arm, almost thinking better of it, but finally letting her hand rest there as she smiled. "I'll be there."
This was her job.
Well, hello there! I want to thank all of you for reading this all the way through and for commenting so profusely! I know I would have done a double take as well if I'd seen Ugly Betty mixed with Batman, lol. I remember thinking how odd I was when I started writing this all up in the first place. But, here we are... at the end. For now.
I do have the next arc somewhat sketched out. It deals with deconstructing Bruce, impending fatherhood, and lots of Mode :D It's going to take me about 2-3 weeks to get enough pumped out until I'm ready to post, but, hey... at least I have plans. Which is more than I had before >.>
But, uh, seriously thinks for sticking with me :-) Feel free to friend wrigleyfield for updates if you're interested in reading anything that might not involve Betty and Bruce. I may write a bit in between. Maybe something that's not a crossover, lol.
So thanks again, and thanks to my beta, ittykat!
<3 Piper
Fandom: Batman Begins/Ugly Betty
Characters/Pairing: Betty Suarez, Bruce Wayne, and Selina Kyle
Rating: PG
Word Count: 4,439
Summary: And so this is the end. What happened? Find out through several POVs.
Notes: This is the 15th 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.
• Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part14, and Part 15
I.
He was a gentleman. How could she have ever thought any different? He was quite the gentleman, wrapping his coat around her shoulders and hugging her close to his side. He wasn't going to let her go, she felt, and that knowledge was a comfort. He wasn't Bruce. He wasn't knocking down criminals and limping back to her with cracked ribs and a valiantly earned black eye. But that was alright. He'd put his arm around her instead, and he wouldn't let go.
"Ms. Suarez?"
The voice was jarring, more so than the cold air and snow falling on her hair and glasses. As soon as she got someplace warm her glasses were going to fog up something awful.
"Ms. Suarez, I'm sorry, but we're going to have to ask you a few questions."
Betty looked up for what seemed like the first time since they'd managed to escape the building. It took her a moment to adjust to the light, or perhaps the lack there of. She'd been staring down at the snow, fresh and bright as it was underneath the never ending light of Gotham City. When she looked up it was into the dark eyes of two police officers who she'd never seen before. Not that she was on first name basis with many GPD officers, but she was at least familiar with the likes of James Gordon. Honestly, a familiar face would have done her well.
She had Daniel, at least. "You can't do this later?"
"No, Mr. Meade. We need her statement for-"
"It's okay." Betty blinked as she spoke. Snow was landing just above her brow and melting before dripping down into her eyes. She reached up to wipe away some of the dampness, only stopping when she remembered that it was Daniel's coat sleeve she was about to get soggy with melted snow, makeup, and likely a good deal of hair spray. She settled for just wiping her hands with her eyes instead. "Ow," she mumbled. Her eyes stung a bit.
"Are you sure, Betty?" Daniel asked. His tone was soft, adding a new quality to his voice; one she'd never heard before. He really was full of surprises tonight.
She nodded, and it seemed that was all the two officers needed to launch into what would prove to be the beginning in a series of seemingly never ending questions and answers.
"Can you tell us what happened, Ms. Suarez?"
--
"Where did the costume come from?" She had a knack for thinking and saying inappropriate things at inappropriate times. It wasn't a very useful talent.
"Does it matter? He's here, isn't that enough?"
"Oh. No, you're right." She had to stop saying these inappropriate things out loud. "I-It's good he's here."
Admittedly, Betty was still wondering where the costume had come from. It seemed like she'd run from Bruce just five minutes ago. She could barely remember how she'd gotten from Daniel to Bruce to Christina, but she knew damned well that Bruce had not been wearing the heavy leather and Kevlar black suit when he'd sent her running away in the other direction. Maybe it wasn't important -no, in the scheme of things it definitely was not important- but she really did wonder how he'd gotten that suit on so quickly.
"You know everything I said about this guy not existing?" Christina asked slowly. "I take it back."
Betty nodded with a gulp. "I'd say I told you so, but I don't think this is the time for that." She had the feeling the Bruce would be completely unenthralled with this conversation to begin with. He'd told her to get out of the building. Yet here she was, standing ten feet from the door with a perfectly clear route of escape and instead of leaving, she was staring and yapping with her best friend as if this were an empty hallway in Mode. She was going to hear about this tomorrow, no doubt.
It wasn't her fault. She was from New York, but she never saw this sort of thing in Queens. Hell, this sort of thing didn't happen in Midtown Manhattan. She'd never actually seen her boss in action. That one night at the train station didn't count, and even she could tell that this 'Joker' was more of an opponent than those two muggers had been.
"We need to get out of here, Betty." Christina had the right idea. They'd all just barely managed to avoid being shot, Batman's appearance completely diverting the Joker's attentions from the crowd. It was the Batman he'd come here for, after all. Betty felt as if she was only just beginning to understand what Bruce had been trying to tell her.
He knew. Right. She got it now.
Betty couldn't help feeling the empty spot around her neck again. The missing sensation of cool gold would take a while to become used to. It wasn't something she wanted to become used to either, but it seemed she was going to have to learn. The necklace was trapped in one of the sacks the masked men held. It had almost been like a robbery out of an old movie. Masked men holding brown sacks and ripping jewelry from women's necks, fingers, and ears while firing guns into the crowd in a frenzy. But Betty suspected that their leader could have cared less about the jewelry. It was likely just a bonus in all this. His henchmen had fallen back to the sides once Batman made his presence known, ordered to stand down and away as the Joker took center stage. It was as if the clown forgot the bystanders altogether as his attentions zeroed in on her boss.
Betty felt Christina grab her hand, squeezing it tightly and trying to drag her along, but she really was glued to her spot on the floor. People were pushing past her on their way out, but her feet would not move. Maybe they were all jaded Gothamites, but Betty, for one, wanted to see Batman work. Call it a morbid curiosity. Or, simply call it something that could end up killing her.
Either way, it wasn't safe.
II.
"He spoke like a lolcat."
"What?"
Justin Suarez couldn't help but look slightly exasperated when he looked up at the officer. "He spoke," he repeated slowly, as if he through the cop might have had some sort of mental deficiency. "Like a lolcat." He looked from the questioning officer back to James Gordon and his daughter, Barbara. It was only the girl who gave him any sort of sign that she understood what he meant.
She nodded. "He did, dad. 'Why so serious'. He kept saying it over and over again."
"Like a lolcat," Justin attempted to explain again. "You know… I can has cheeseburger?"
The other officer's stare quickly turned into a glower, the likes of which he'd never seen before. The NYPD had nothing on this. Though it made sense- they weren't dealing with this brand of psychopath day after day. "You think this is funny? We're trying to conduct an investigation here, and-"
"Hey, hey. Lay off the kid." Justin was glad for the commissioner's interruption. He didn't even mind when the older man put his hand down on the shoulder of his Armani suit. It had been ruined enough during the course of the evening as it was. Crawling across the floor and trying to avoid being shot while your mom squeezed you near hard enough to kill you herself did not do wonders for designer suits. "Justin, right? Where’s your mother?"
"I was with her over there," The thirteen year old pointed to a group of ambulances, circled like wagons on a prairie. It was hard to see anything, really, past the blur of EMTs, stretchers, and snow. "She hit her head."
"Is she alright?" Gordon asked.
"She's in beauty school. We've seen worse." Well, it was true, Justin thought. His mom had survived plenty of hot comb burns in the past and the EMT treating her had been very sure that it wasn't bad enough to be a concussion. That was the only reason he wasn't over there. That, and the fact that the Metropolis cop hadn't given him much of a choice.
"Good, good." He nodded in Justin's direction before turning to Barbara. "Go wait in the car, this won't take long."
"But I can has cheeseburger," Barbara said simply, looking up at her father and not moving a inch. "You need me to translate."
"Why so serious," Justin said, nodding in agreement.
The commissioner sighed. He placed his hands just behind the two teenagers, pointing them in the direction of the EMTs. "Come on. Maybe your mother can tell us more."
--
His henchmen all looked a bit like him. Variations on a theme, as it were. All were white and clown faced with giant spots of blush around the cheeks. The features of the masks varied in size; big noses, small ears, wide lips… nearly everything was represented. The lips -- big or small, thick or thin - were consistently turned downwards, forming ugly and distorted frowns. It was possible that there was a bit of stitching around the lips, but pity the person who was actually close enough to see.
The masks weren't truly a substitute for the original. They were just masks, after all, and despite the mass scarring and reconstruction, Jack Napier's face was actually quite expressive. Even if that expression was most often a smile, it certainly said something. Insanity, for the most part.
"Glad you could join us, Bats!" Perhaps it was the fact that was a genuine excitement in his voice that made the hairs on the back of the hero's neck stand up as they did. He was used to shouted cursing and screaming upon his arrival, never excitement. But the Joker was nothing if not unpredictable and the epitome of the atypical villain.
He actually preferred the others he faced. The corny gimmicks and propensity for idle chatter which was almost always their downfall in the end- when would they learn that soliloquies were not the answer?
The Joker was a rather loquacious fellow, as Alfred had once commented, but his speech seemed to aid him if anything. While other so-called 'super villains' could hypnotise themselves into believing their delusions of grandeur with the sounds of their own voices, the Joker's voice lacked that one adverse affect. His penchant for prattle was simply annoying. Distracting, even, though Batman would be loathe to admit it.
It continued between them as it had since they'd first been 'introduced'. The more stoic in his silence Batman proved to be, the more Jack Napier spoke. It was grating.
"I knew you'd come."
Most of the guests had been able to escape the room once he'd arrived. As usual, his presence had completely captivated the Joker's attentions. They had something of a relationship, the two of them, and he was beginning to believe that this habit of terrorizing innocent citizens was about more than the money and jewelry shoved into the nondescript brown sacks. The clown had eyes for no one else and most had taken advantage of this. There were still a few, too captivated to leave.
He and Betty would be having words later.
"That's right, Bats-for-Brains." The clown took a moment, twirling around in a circle and shooting his gun off at the ceiling. He stopped, slamming his foot down to the floor and staring straight into Batman's eyes. "I knew you would be here." A steady stream of laughter filled the room and he slapped his knee with his free hand before clutching his belly as he doubled over with giggles.
"Here!" he said, looking up just briefly to meet Batman's eyes again. "I knew you'd be here. I know things. I know, I know, I know, I know, I know, I know! And I'm the only one. Do you feel like we're closer now? Like we've bonded, old chum? I feel so much closer."
Alfred Pennyworth, Betty Suarez, Clark Kent, Selina Kyle, Jack Napier… one of those names was not like the others.
He would admit to nothing. The mask certainly helped to keep his face blank, though the muscles in his face were still as ever. There was no visual reaction on his part to the Joker's revelations. Napier may as well have admitted to eating an apple for all the response Batman would give him. It was instead a call to action. Batman jumped from the dais on which he'd been standing, slamming into the Joker's shoulder with a perfectly aimed kick. The telltale dislocating pop was damned satisfying.
III.
"It didn't look that bad in person, actually," Christina mused underneath her breath.
"What didn't, ma'am?"
She couldn't help the look she pulled at being ma'amed. It made her feel rather old. "The costume. It didn't look so bad in person. Do you have a pen and paper?"
"Pen and paper?" The Metropolis officer gave her an odd look and it only turned weirder when she reached out and snatched his pen and pad from his hands.
"Pencil would have been better, actually," she muttered. A snowless night would have helped as well. There was snow melting on the small pad, making it damp and nearly unusable. "Just need to change the whole underwear on the outside thing. That's a bit tacky, don't you think?" Christina glanced up at the officer, but it didn't seem like he had an opinion to offer on the matter.
He gave an exasperated sigh. "Whose costume, ma'am?"
"Superman's."
"Superman was there?" he asked.
Christina nodded as she continued her quick sketch of the costume. She was a firm believer of keeping one's underwear underneath their clothing and for Superman that really needed fixing. "For a while, just towards the end. It was after the Joker got away; Superman rounded up all the others. The men in the masks. He got them all."
"How did he get away?"
She turned the sketch pad so that the officer could see the finished redesign. A simple spandex outfit and cape with a lack of extra fabric around the midsection. "Spandex doesn't really agree with anyone, but underwear makes everything worse. And even that's forgetting the fact that it's bright bloody red."
"Ma'am, if we could we get back to the point…"
--
It wasn't a fight of epic proportions. They'd had worse. Their fight at the docks came to mind, but he quickly pushed it away. They were two entirely different situations. Different places, different weapons, different innocent bystanders… the fact that there were innocent bystanders. There was room to work with here, enough room to move around, yet keep the fight contained.
He referred to it in his mind as 'the Clown problem'. It was a problem which he was admittedly having a hard time figuring out how to ultimately solve. How many times had one of their fights ended with the Joker en route back to Arkham? How many times had he escaped? There was a permanent solution, just as there was with all of the thugs he faced on a nightly basis, but the Joker was the only one who actually drove him to that point. He would never do it, of course, but at times like this he wondered if it wouldn't just be easier.
"It's better this way."
"Don't touch me."
Both men stood in silence for a moment, strong jaws tilted down and dark eyes directed towards a crumbling hole in the side of the building, just feet above the floor; the lasting effects of two sets of explosives which Batman hadn't noticed and Superman had been unable to reach in time. Speed meant nothing if you didn't know what you were meant to speed to.
With all that speed, Batman was of the opinion that he could have removed his hand from his arm a good deal faster than he did.
"It's better this way," the other hero repeated. He floated just above the cement roof of the building, arms now crossed at his chest. "You can't kill him."
"I can't keep him in Arkham either. So tell me, what's the better solution?" Batman didn't look up. His eyes stayed focused on the point of explosion. The Clown was long gone, having run past the line of officers and firing aimlessly into the crowd before jumping into a car driven by the only one of his thugs who'd managed to escape. Superman had, at least, taken care of the rest of the masked men. They were crumbled in the corner, tied up in a rather comical way with a piece of rope and a bent and melded metal table leg; a binding which only the red and blue clad hero could fashion.
Superman was silent for a moment before speaking. "This was the better solution."
"Letting him get away?"
"Better than killing someone in my city," he answered in a very matter-of-fact tone. It grated on Batman's nerves just about as much as the Joker's laugh. "It's not as if it's over. There's going to be a night-long manhunt for him, and since you broke every bone in his upper body, he's probably not going to get far."
Batman looked away from the hole in the wall and down to his hand. A sliver of gold chain eked out a space between his fingers. "He's in a car."
"That's never stopped you before," Superman muttered.
He squeezed the gold chain tightly in his hand, unable to feel the bite of the cross' edges beneath the thick rubber of his glove. But he knew it was there. "She's going to want this back."
"Who?"
But Superman made the mistake so many had made and so few had learned from. He'd turned his back and by the time he turned to look again, super-speed and all, Batman had vanished.
IV.
Well, she'd been right. Just a little bit of heat and her glasses steamed right up. Betty could only squint as she removed them from her face and wiped them on her dress with one hand as she balanced a Styrofoam cup of hot chocolate in the other. She could barely see a thing as she went about it, but at least it was warm now.
It was like the Metropolis PD had dealt with this before. Betty was sure they had. Though everything had been in relative disarray in the beginning, things had started to calm down in a slow but steady pattern. Ambulances circled just beyond the yellow police tape surrounding the damaged building. For those who didn't need hospitalization, but did need to be looked over, a large and heated white tent had been set up in near record time. A few nurses and paramedics mulled around inside, but mostly there were people like Betty and Justin Suarez who flitted around worrying about those members of their parties who'd been hurt in the attacks,
"Mom, they told you to lie down!" Justin said with an exasperated sigh.
"And they said it wasn't a concussion," was Hilda's immediate response as she continued to sit up on the small cot she'd been resting upon. She looked at Betty. "Where's Christina?"
"They're still talking to her outside." Betty held her glasses up and looked at them carefully before putting them back over her nose. They were streaked, but at least she could see now. "Are you alright?"
Hilda rolled her eyes. "Will you stop asking me that?"
"No," she answered, pursing her lips and staring at her sister. She handed Hilda the cup of hot chocolate and rubbed at the bare spot just above her chest. "Not until I hear the doctors say you are."
Hilda sighed again and took the offered hot chocolate. It occurred to Betty that she wasn't sure if Hilda was supposed to be drinking or eating anything, but she certainly wasn't going to try and wretch the cup from her hands. She wasn't that crazy.
"Oh my God!"
Both Betty and Hilda very nearly jumped to attention, Hilda just about falling off of the cot and tripping over her dress and heels when she attempted to right herself. The hot chocolate tipped over and spilled out onto the tarp floor, luckily just missing the hems of both of their dresses. Betty jumped back to avoid the spill before reaching down to help her sister up. She looked at Justin as she pulled on Hilda's hand. "What?"
"It's Bruce Wayne!" Justin said, not bothering at all to control the level of his voice or his obviously pointed finger.
Betty guided Hilda back onto the cot before turning to stare small flap opening in the tent. It seemed she wasn't the only one. Bruce tended to cause a commotion anywhere he went, even if it a simple entrance into a simple and unobtrusive tent whose occupants certainly had more to concentrate on than a handsome man.
Handsome? Now where had that come from?
She shook her head quickly and glanced back up, somewhat surprised to see Bruce headed in her direction. It didn't take more than a quick look at Justin bouncing excitedly on his heels to aid in her decision to meet the older man half way. Sometimes it was simply best to run interference when it came to her family. Especially the excitable teens.
She'd not admit it later, but she couldn't help but wonder where the Batsuit had disappeared to and exactly how his designer suit looked as if it was fresh from the cleaners even though she knew that it had to have been removed and tossed somewhere within the past ninety minutes. The mysteries that were Bruce Wayne seemed to be never ending at times and, somehow, the being Batman thing just didn't explain them all.
On nights like this though -- with snow melting in his slightly mussed hair as he walked over to greet her with the absolute slightest of limps - the whole dark and mysterious label really did suit him.
"Are you alright?"
"She was right. That really is an annoying question." Betty looked Bruce up and down, trying to see if she could spot the source of the staggered step. But, as usual, whatever it was, he'd hidden it well. "What about you?"
"I got out," he said simply.
"What about-"
Bruce shook his head. "Later." He reached down into the suit pocket and Betty thought she detected the slightest of winces when he completely extended his elbow. It was a room filled with doctors and she couldn't even get him a pack of ice for fear of giving something away.
She sighed. "You should get home. Alfred's probably boiling hot compresses as we speak."
"I'm going to see Selina home first," he said, and Betty couldn't help but smile slightly. Amanda had bolted into the first limo service out of Metropolis about an hour ago.
"Is she alright?" The annoying question of the evening had to be asked.
"She's fine." He pulled his hand from his pocket and dangling from his fingers was a familiar shimmering of gold. Betty couldn't help her slightly slack-jawed look when she finally got a good look and realized what it was. The small cross stood out like a beacon falling just below his pale hand, but even still she had to look twice. "I think this is yours?"
Had he gone and rescued all the girls' jewelry, or was she just special? Thankfully, Betty managed to keep that particular thought to herself. "Thank you!" She exclaimed instead. "It's was mom's and I… how did you-"
"I found it in the snow," Bruce said pointedly. He stopped her when she reached out to take it from him. "I'll have it fixed for you by Monday."
Betty smiled. "Thank you." He nodded, taking the thanks in stride as he usually did, as if it was little to remark about. Bruce was simply one of those people, though maybe not many knew it. He didn't do these things for the recognition and thanks. He just… did them. It was the right thing to do, so he did it.
Betty canted her head slightly as she looked at him. As much time as she spent considering the mysteries that were Bruce Wayne, sometimes she did consider that the mysteries weren't really important when it came to figuring the man out. The core was all you needed, really, to know what he was about. He did things because they were right.
She had to look away before her smile became too sappy and too infused with feelings that could only have been brought about by the extreme events of the evening. Stress. It was stress that had her looking like this. And who could blame her? She'd looked into the eyes of madman with a permanent smile carved into his face. Betty felt perfectly justified in blaming any and all odd looks or feelings on the clown running free through Gotham and Metropolis.
"...around to the front."
"What? I'm sorry…" Betty ran a hand through her hair, realizing she'd been so lost in thought that she'd missed just about everything he'd said.
"I said Alfred's going to bring the car around, if your sister's ready and the police have finished with Christina," Bruce repeated.
"Oh… thanks. What about you and Selina?"
"We'll manage." He shrugged slightly and upon noticing a slight wince once more, Betty hoped that he really could manage. Gotham was a ways away, and she hadn't seen any sign of that awesome looking car from the Cave.
"Do you need anything else before I tell Hilda and Christina?" A splint, a brace? An ace bandage? Betty did her best keeping those suggestions to herself.
He gave a slow shake of his head and slipped a hand casually into his pocket. "No. Take the weekend. This was… more than you signed on for.
"I think of it as a more advanced form of scouring the city for lost underwear." Her smile turned crooked as she looked at him. She could see a taint of guilt spreading through his features.
"It only gets worse from here and I don't-" He stopped himself, seemingly picking and choosing his words carefully and eventually ending with simplicity. "We'll talk on Monday."
Betty nodded. She reached out tentatively to touch his arm, almost thinking better of it, but finally letting her hand rest there as she smiled. "I'll be there."
This was her job.
Well, hello there! I want to thank all of you for reading this all the way through and for commenting so profusely! I know I would have done a double take as well if I'd seen Ugly Betty mixed with Batman, lol. I remember thinking how odd I was when I started writing this all up in the first place. But, here we are... at the end. For now.
I do have the next arc somewhat sketched out. It deals with deconstructing Bruce, impending fatherhood, and lots of Mode :D It's going to take me about 2-3 weeks to get enough pumped out until I'm ready to post, but, hey... at least I have plans. Which is more than I had before >.>
But, uh, seriously thinks for sticking with me :-) Feel free to friend wrigleyfield for updates if you're interested in reading anything that might not involve Betty and Bruce. I may write a bit in between. Maybe something that's not a crossover, lol.
So thanks again, and thanks to my beta, ittykat!
<3 Piper