Preordained
Preordained
by DebC and Christina A
Summary: Bruce & Grace reunite after a painful 4-month separation and everyone’s lives are affected.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
Gotham was dark and cold. Moonlight reflected off the snow on the street below. The view from the rooftop was pristine and deceiving. The beauty of the new snowfall hid the filth of the city, even from itself. The crime. The corruption. The anger. The need. The lust. The greed. Gotham might look pure right now, but it wasn’t.
Wrapping his night-colored cape around him, the silent watcher turned away from the rooftop and disappeared into the shadows. The hour was late, but his night was just beginning.
A few blocks away, he interrupted a mugging. The mugger ran, and he gave chase. There was little struggle, and he disposed of the mugger by binding his wrists and ankles and leaving him on the steps of the nearest police precinct.
The victim was nowhere to be found when he returned.
*-*-*
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Morning sunlight cut into Bruce’s sleep, blinding him when he opened his eyes. He couldn’t remember leaving the curtains open before he’d gone to bed, though. In fact, he could have sworn he’d purposefully drawn and closed them.
“Wake up, lazy bones!” The voice was cheerfully mocking.
Bruce groaned and rolled over, burying his face in a pillow. “Go ‘way, Nee!” He was still tired and it came out as a whine.
“Not on your life. You’re just lucky I haven’t got a camera handy.”
It wasn’t an idle threat. She had worse pictures of him, if truth be known. “Wha’ time is it?” he asked, voice slurred by the pillow and the sleep which threatened to lure him back.
“Almost one. I told Dad you’d forget, but I never thought I’d find you still in bed!”
Dad? Miles. Damn. Bruce rolled over and sat up in one quick movement, eyes squinting as he forced them open. His long-time best friend laughed at the grimace on his face.
“Damn,” he repeated aloud. “I didn’t forget. I just…”
“Forgot?” she supplied, snickering a little.
“Thought it was tomorrow,” he countered miserably, and threw off the blanket with little modesty. Not, of course, that she was going to see much. He was wearing sleep pants and an old t-shirt.
“Technically…” she admitted slowly, as if it pained her to say he was right. “It is, but today was the private family luncheon.”
“Right. Tomorrow night’s the fancy black tie version at the mayoral mansion.” He was expected to be at both, though for different reasons. He’d known that, really he had. He shot her a guilty look and padded to the bathroom. He doubted he’d missed it, or else she wouldn’t have come to get him in person. “Well, I’ll just…” he hesitated, looking awkwardly between her and the shower, “be right out.” He paused and added, “Can you ask Alfred to make coffee?”
“Sure, Bruce.” Courtney shook her head, wondering what was going on in his head, and then asked, “Do you want me to wait for you, or do you think you can remember how to get there?”
“I can…” he started to protest, then chuckled ruefully. He knew then that she wasn’t going to let him live it down… not for a while anyway. He shook his head. “You can go on back. Tell Miles I’m on my way.”
*-*-*
True to his word, he didn’t forget how to get to the Blaire home. Though, if he was being honest with himself, a few times on the way, he’d almost turned the Jag around and went home. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. He felt honored that Miles Blaire considered him family, even after leaving Courtney in the lurch while she suffered from cancer. He knew Constance harbored some ill feelings about that, even though she said nothing to his face.
But it wasn’t even that.
He wondered if she would be there: Grace. He’d almost asked Courtney before she left, but couldn’t bring himself to utter her name for fear his voice would crack and Courtney would know.
So, he hadn’t asked and now his heart was somewhere in his throat. They hadn’t seen each other since the day she moved out of the Manor, and although it had been his fault, he knew for a certainty he wasn’t ready to see her. Not if thinking about her was like pulling his heart from his chest and crushing it until it beat no more.
Turning the Jag into the Blaire’s driveway, he tried to push the thought from his mind. Today, or tomorrow for that matter, wasn’t about him. It was about Miles and Constance, and he wasn’t going to spoil that by shifting the focus to him or Grace.
He parked next to Seth’s Jeep, noticing the absence of the familiar Hummer. He’d always disliked Hummers, but during the course of their long relationship –his longest lasting romance to date– he’d grown to love seeing Grace’s parked in its space in the Manor garage. His sports cars and motorcycles always seemed to gather around it, as if for some illusion of protection and safety.
It had made Bruce feel safe, too, because every time he returned home and saw that yellow beast, he knew his beauty was there waiting for him.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he pulled the key from the ignition and slid from the black Jaguar. As the door closed, he seemed to go through a transformation as he forced the treacherous thoughts back to the recesses of his mind. The nerves and lovesickness became replaced with a warm smile, and he approached the front door of the house with all the confidence in the world.
Until the door opened, and he was ushered inside by Courtney. He hesitated as she led him towards the family dining room, where she said *everyone* was. His feet slowed, dragging on the carpeted floor, and when his friend stopped chattering about Alex’s latest hijinx to look at him, he knew she saw the terror in his eyes.
“She not here, Bruce,” Courtney whispered, stopping them both just outside the double doors. Beyond them, laughter spoke of people having fun. Her eyes softened, and she put a hand on his arm. But at her words, his bravado returned. He smiled, and tried to pretend he didn’t need her support.
He didn’t get the chance, however, to say anything in response. Before either of them did anything else, the brass handles on the doors turned and the doors pushed open. “I’ll just go see what’s take–” Seth stopped short when he saw Courtney and Bruce. “Never mind. Here they are,” he called back into the room.
“Bruce!” Miles Blaire called out. He was seated on a plush loveseat with his wife at his side, surrounded by a small crowd of family and friends. “Come join us!”
*-*-*
Grace looked up at the clock. The luncheon had just started. She’d called and told Constance that she was ‘sick’ and didn’t think she was going to be able to make it. The elder Blaire woman had softly said it was okay and she hoped Grace would feel better soon. Constance, for all her bitchiness, was actually very understanding. Grace was now lying on her couch, Dizzy resting happily in her lap. He’d gotten back into the swing of living in the apartment. Grace… well she was a different story.
It may have had something to do with the fact that the woman who used to be outgoing, friendly, flirtaceous, and happy, now felt broken-hearted, beaten, and dying inside. Try as she might, she just couldn’t figure out where it had gone wrong. Her fairy tale had turned from ‘Happily Ever After’ to Brother’s Grimm in the manner of a few words. ‘Grace, I think you should consider moving back to your apartment.’ It was like a dagger in her heart. It wasn’t really something she had to ‘consider’; it was his way of saying it was over. It wasn’t going to work for him.
And she saw it in his eyes. She knew it was killing him. She’d wanted to cry, hit him, and run away… anything to make the pain less. But in the end, she’d done as he asked, and not made a scene. He’d hired movers and as easily as her belongings had moved into the manor, they’d moved out again.
She’d never harbored any malice toward him. To this very second, she still loved him with everything she was. Their first night apart, Courtney had gone to see Bruce and Seth had come to her. She had spent the entire night sobbing in his arms. Of course, Seth had resentment toward Bruce anyway because of the way Bruce ran off to Europe when Courtney had cancer. No amount of explaining could make Seth understand. He never said a negative word about Bruce that night, though. He simply held her and let her cry. She woke up the next morning in her bed, tired and aching. Courtney had replaced Seth, sitting by the bed.
Grace spent the next month crying. The hardest was Christmas… then his birthday… She slipped further and further into depression. Alex would try to cheer her up. He’d stop by every afternoon, as it was his duty to make sure she ate lunch. Her high school boyfriend, Chad, would make sure she had dinner. She was rarely left alone. That was by Courtney’s rule. She knew Grace… knew how she could slip into a state that scared her more than Bruce’s disappearing acts. Cause Grace’s… well… Grace’s could be an act that one never returned from.
Hope had moved in after the fall semester, and only went back to college because Courtney swore Grace would be taken care of. George and Janet called every day. The lawyer’s anger toward the billionaire was abated only because his daughter begged him not to act out the role of ‘protective father’. Her parents had both come to love Bruce like they would have their own son. They were going through their own grief at the separation.
Grace sighed and pulled the blanket over her head. Lying on this couch, living in the past… she knew it wasn’t what was best, but it was all she could do. Miles and Constance had invited her to their anniversary luncheon, as well as the gala party tomorrow night. Grace wasn’t going to either one.
Her excuse of being ‘sick’ was one *everyone* could surely see through. She couldn’t be where he was and not breakdown… not want to touch him, hold him, be near him. And he *would* be there. He would feel obligated and no matter if he were still hurting, he would go. Alex had invited her to go to the party tomorrow as his ‘date’. Chad had offered the same. But she’d politely turned them both down. Worse than seeing Bruce at an informal gathering would be to see him at a formal one with another woman on his arm. He’d told her once that, before she came into his life, he’d made Courtney go along as his ‘date’. He felt it was expected of him to have one.
To see another woman where she was supposed to be, where she felt she still belonged, she couldn’t have taken that. So she’d told Alex and Chad no. She’d called Constance and said she was ‘sick’ and wouldn’t be at either event. She simply wasn’t strong enough to do it.
*-*-*
A loud banging at her door caused her to jump up; dropping Dizzy on the floor, he meowed in disgust before running into the bedroom.
“Grace Victoria O’Neil, open the door.”
It was Seth.
She sighed. The supermodel, who at one time took great pains in her appearance, merely rubbed her now short hair against her head. Cutting it had been her one action of anger. Bruce loved her long hair. She couldn’t look at it long anymore. “I’m coming, damn!”
She’d barely turned the knob before he was marching into the room. “Do you realize it’s after 4?”
“So?” She padded back to the couch. “How the hell did you get in here anyway?”
“My wife has a key, remember?”
“Your wife, not you.” She sighed and pulled the blanket onto her lap.
Sighing, he sat beside her, reaching out to place a comforting hand on the back of her neck. Grace craved physical closeness. She absorbed it like a sponge. “Gracie, you need to get out.”
She wiped at the traitorous tears. “I don’t want to.” Looking down at the blanket, she picked at a piece of lint and softly asked, “How did it go? The luncheon.”
“Bruce was late,” he said, getting right to the heart of what she was really wanting to know. “He forgot about the luncheon, overslept, and Courtney went to get him. She was going to come get you too, but her mother said you were sick.” He gave her neck a soft squeeze. “Gracie, hon, this isn’t healthy. You leave the house only to work.”
She shrugged. “I’m still the most demanded models in the business, Seth. I still meet all my commitments. I smile when I’m told; I look pretty when I have to.”
“We spent a week in the French Riviera, and the only time you left your hotel was when you had to be on set.” He, of course, was referring to the ad she’d done for L’Oreal Paris. He’d hoped that the week there would help her… bring her out of her shell. But the first thing she’d said was Bruce had a home on the Riviera. He’d taken her there for one of their trips. The crying after that had caused her eyes to swell to the point where it took the makeup artist hours to get it to go down. But she was right, when she had to smile for the camera, she did. When she had to act for the commercial, she shined. But as soon as the cameras were turned off, the pain showed through.
It was something Seth couldn’t understand, no matter how much he tried. He had his own issues with Wayne, though he could see the man was in pain too. So why? Why intentionally break up with the woman who completed you? Why push her away? Why break her heart? And she still loved him. It was obvious to Seth that if Wayne showed up at her door today and said he was sorry… said he wanted her back… she’d go. There would be no thought.
“Did he… was he…”
“He was alone,” Seth answered.
She only nodded as the tears came again. He drew her into his arms and held her tightly.
It was this scene that Courtney Meyers walked in on. She ran her hand through her now shoulder length hair. The shortness of it was the only sign that she’d just won a huge war to save her life. She didn’t move to Grace though, merely watched. What she wanted to do was smack sense into both of her friends. She knew Bruce felt like he had his reasons for sending Grace away. But was it really worth it? They were both miserable.
Turning on a heel, she walked into Grace’s bathroom and ran a bath. She added lavender scented bath salts and tons of bubbles. As the tub filled, she returned to the living room. “Grace, bathroom now.”
She sniffled and shook her head. “I don’t want to take a bath.”
Courtney looked at her husband who promptly dropped his arms from Grace. “What you want isn’t a concern of mine right now. You need a bath. So you can go in there, undress, and get in the tub on your own or I can do it for you.”
Grace looked at her lifelong friend. She didn’t doubt that the shorter, lighter woman could do it. What Courtney lacked in height and weight, she make up for in tenacity and spirit. “Fine. But I don’t know what the point is.”
“The point is, you’re going out to dinner with Seth, Mom, Dad, and I.” Before Grace could protest, she said, “I won’t take no for an answer. I can accept why you didn’t show up at the luncheon. I can understand why you aren’t going to show up at the party tomorrow. But you aren’t backing out of this, Grace. You’re going to dinner with us if I have to drag you there by what’s left of your hair.” The words were harsh, but spoken in pure ‘Hurricane Courtney’ fashion.
“I love you too,” Grace said as she walked passed her friend. The words had been meant to sound sarcastic. But they came out in a sob. It was a sob that earned her a hug from her friend.
“I love you too… dearly. Now, go get a bath. I’ll pick out a cute dress and we’ll do your hair.” As Grace walked into the bathroom, Courtney looked at her husband who was folding the blanket and placing it on the back of the couch. She thanked God every day for that man, for the ease that their relationship had been. Oh, her cancer had made life difficult, but he’d been there. And though it had almost killed her, the disease had also drawn them closer than she’d ever dreamed possible. “What do you think? Red or green?”
He smiled. “Purple. It’s her favorite color.”
With that, his wife nodded and headed off into Grace’s bedroom to pick out her friend’s clothes. Something had to happen here soon. Bruce was being eaten up by his broken heart and so was Grace. They were made for each other. Their hearts needed the other to continue beating with a purpose. Why were they apart? It just didn’t make any damn sense.
*-*-*
Bruce left the Blaire’s not long after Seth had excused himself, claiming he had business to tend to. Business, which Bruce had no doubt, meant Grace. But that put a halt to the false good mood he’d been in, leaving him visibly broody.
Alex, ever the well intentioned clown, tried to draw the conversation away from Seth’s business by bringing up tomorrow’s gala. “You’re going, right Bruce?” He asked when everyone started chattering about what to wear or the prospective menu. “Or should we send Courtney after you again?” He was teasing, and Bruce knew it.
He gave a small grin. “Wouldn’t miss it,” Bruce promised, mostly to Miles and Constance. He felt badly enough about being late today.
“And you’re bringing a date, right?” Alex pushed, and next to him, Courtney’s face palmed, shaking her head. And Alex had been doing so well.
Bruce felt much like he did the first time he’d been called upon to give a public speech. Nervous and like the whole world was watching him. And really, they were, even if no acknowledged it. How he answered –if he had a date or not– would more than likely get back to Grace. They were all friends. No, more like family.
“How about you, Alex?” he asked with feigned sincerity. “Would you be my date?” He’d chosen the road no one expected. Humor and misdirection. Alex spluttered on his drink, Constance looked properly shocked, and most everyone else turned back to his or her own conversation.
Not long after, Bruce rose to leave. He was surprised when Miles opted to walk out with him.
“It was good to see you, Bruce,” the older man admitted once they were outside. He might not say it, but Bruce knew the tone of voice. Miles was worried about him. It touched his heart. “You’ve been so distant recently.” Recently meant since Grace…and possibly even before.
“I’ve been busy.” It wasn’t a lie, though he knew the way Miles might take it was.
Gotham’s best mayor yet shook his head. “With what? Rumor has it you’ve handed the reins of Wayne Industries back to your advisors. And you haven’t made a public appearance in months. You’re becoming a hermit.”
Bruce sighed. He knew he couldn’t explain what he was so wrapped up in. Not to Miles, not to anyone. No one would understand it. That was why he’d forced himself to turn Grace away. Lex had been right; eventually, he’d have to tell her. Bruce had decided it would be better to lose Grace now, on his own terms, than to revisit what had happened between Lex and himself with Grace.
“It’s Grace, isn’t it?” Miles asked. Like his daughter, the man was too perceptive for his own good.
Bruce shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry, Miles. I can’t go into it right now.” His voice was apologetic. He couldn’t. There would never be a right time to say ‘I’ve been spending my nights patrolling the streets of Gotham in a Halloween costume’ to anyone. They’d lock him up in Arkham for sure, although there were times when Bruce wasn’t sure he didn’t truly belong there.
Miles frowned, but accepted the words. “You know where to find me, Bruce,” he offered.
Bruce smiled, and nodded. Miles’ friendship had come to mean a lot to him over the years. He was almost like a father to him, every bit as much as Alfred had been after his own father died. “I know.”
*-*-*
Wayne Manor was a labyrinth of secret doors and passages. They’d been meant as a means for servants to pass undetected from one part of the house to another back in the days when it had been built and the family was large and the serving staff even larger. Then, it had been a custom that servants were necessary, but it was unnecessary to see them.
As a child, Bruce had played in those same passages, wandering them freely until he came to know each like the back of his hand. He’d gotten lost a few times along the way, and had once been missing for nearly a day before anyone found him. The passage had led into the Manor’s extensive basement, and it was there he’d been found, huddled in a gloomy corner.
It was this passage that Bruce took the instant he returned home from the anniversary luncheon. Through his vision and Alfred’s guidance, the basement had been transformed into something altogether different. A private fortress. It was crude, but taking shape. He had a conference table, computers linking the entire house and his offices at Wayne Manor, and the training facility.
It was to the training facility that he headed.
Yes, he had a home gym upstairs, but he spent less and less time there now. It reminded him too much of Grace. They’d made it a custom to rise every morning before the sun, exercising together until they were both flushed and glistening with sweat and Grace’s endorphins kicked in. Then, they’d shower, conversely washing each other and making love with the steaming water pounding on their skin. And then they would make love again in Bruce’s bed, and hold each other after, until the sun rose and Alfred roused them to announce breakfast was ready. The gym echoed of those days, and Bruce had moved his daily routine into the basement along with the rest of his life.
He began tonight’s training by sitting on a mat on the floor, intent upon meditation. His emotions were high and too near the surface. If he went out on patrol like this, he would be sloppy. He couldn’t be sloppy. But as his eyes closed, thoughts of Grace filled his mind. Her face as it looked just waking up in the mornings, her smile, her laughter… the way he could see her world crumbling through her eyes when he told he thought she should consider moving out. He’d seen it only once, because the day the movers came to take her back to the apartment, he’d made himself scarce.
Still, the image was stored in his memory and it often replayed without mercy –reminding him that he’d purposefully thrown away the best thing to ever happen to him. Opening his eyes, he shook his head to clear it. Meditation would be no use. His mind was too wrapped up in the enjoyment of torturing himself.
He walked further into the training facility, where it resembled more a prison than anything else. A chair sat against the wall, and he sat, pressing a button on the floor with his foot. Instantly, manacles snapped down on his arms and legs and around his chest, strapping him into the chair. His only means of unlocking them –a single key– lay on the table several feet away. The object of this exercise was to find a way to either get out or get the key. Survival.
He had just begun to ponder the dilemma when a door to one of the secret passages opened and Alfred approached. If the older man was surprised to see that Bruce had locked himself into such a device, he didn’t say it. He merely asked how the party had been.
“It was… fine,” he replied, sounding as relaxed as if he always did this sort of thing.
Alfred took in the tone of his voice and nodded. “Your social secretary called while you were out. He wanted to remind you about tomorrow night.” Bruce nodded. He figured as much. “And he also inquired if you were going to ring for a companion. They need to know whether or not to leave a seat empty for someone. To that end, sir, I took the liberty of compiling a list of suitable dates whom might actually be available on such short notice.” Alfred held the list out for him to see.
Scanning it, Bruce shook his head, indicating that he wasn’t interested in any of them.
“Then perhaps a more selective list, sir?” He produced another paper, and Bruce blinked twice when he read what was written on it. The only name there was ‘Grace O’Neil’.
“Alfred…” he began to protest, lowering his eyes.
“You should call her, Master Bruce.” He knew that Alfred wasn’t talking about just for tomorrow, either.
‘But I can’t,’ Bruce thought, but did not answer. How could he? What would he say to her to make things right them? How could he explain the inevitable ‘why?’ that would come?
Alfred moved away from him, putting both lists on the table next to the key. “I trust I will be seeing you at dinner when it’s ready, sir?” he asked, rerouting the conversation to Bruce’s training. He’d planted the seeds and knew Bruce enough to know not to push the issue too hard.
“If I’m not, you might want to send a search party,” Bruce joked, though the words were hollow in light of their previous exchange.
“As you wish, sir.” Alfred left him then, without another word on the subject. Bruce’s eyes drifted to the table, though it was no longer the key that his gaze sought.
*-*-*
The night was uncommonly quiet, and his patrol bordered on boring. Not so much as a mugger tonight.
He found himself atop the rooftop opposite a familiar apartment building, watching an equally familiar window. The drawn curtains only dimmed the light in the widow, and he knew Grace wasn’t sleeping.
A Jeep was parked in the parking lot below, and he knew without getting closer that she wasn’t alone. Rising, he started to move off, intent upon making his way to the other side of the city. He didn’t know what had brought him there tonight in the first place. Seth was there, and possibly Courtney as well. Grace didn’t need him.
*-*-*
