The Batmobile came to a stop in the center of the Cave.

Bruce couldn't bring himself to press the button to open the top of the car with his usual sense of authority— instead he weakly hit it with the side of his fist and let it slide open. His exit of the vehicle wasn't smooth and effortless, just him pushing himself up and swinging either leg over the side, tugging his cape after him.

There was no determination in his step, no drive behind his actions, no motivation to go back to his computer and get to work— his boots just felt awfully heavy and he hated his fucking full cowl and this tight goddamn suit and he just wanted out.

He trudged towards the large computer, haphazardly pulling the mask from his face and exhaling as the cold air hit his face. If he squinted, he could just barely see his breath against the gray-blue wall of the cave.

The computer had gone dark— it was around 3:30, maybe 4:00 in the morning, who knew at this point and who cared— and as he reached to turn the large device back on, he suddenly caught himself in the reflection of the screen.

His hair was mussed. His forehead shone with a layer of sweat. His lips were sloppily coated in red. Red.

Fuck.

Bruce's hand fell to his side right before it touched the keyboard. He ran it over his face.

He reached up to unclasp his cape from either side of his shoulders and then draped it over the back of the leather chair. There was now a faint shade of color streaked across the tips of his gloves. He bit the inside of his cheek.

He turned around and found himself walking in the direction of the elevator

Bruce had broken at least three of his rules in the last five hours: no alcohol, no kissing businesswomen named Meredith Elias, and now, no Bat paraphernalia in the Manor. A man who broke his sacred rules was a man without morals, he knew, but something in the back of his head then reasoned that he was also a man who dressed as an animal and sent children out to fight corruption in one of the most crime-ridden cities in the country, so what did he really know about morals?

He entered the elevator and leaned on the curved, metal wall, still completely clad in most of the Batsuit, with the cowl hanging limply around his neck. He couldn't even pull from his previously thought-to-be-endless reserve of self-control and manage to change before heading upstairs— no, he just needed...

He wasn't exactly sure what he needed, but it definitely wasn't to sit alone in the Cave with his thoughts.

His body felt warm and his chest felt hot and his lips felt like they were about to burst into flames at any given moment, and he attempted to carelessly wipe at them with the back of his glove because he didn't want any reminders of what had happened.

Bruce's head fell back against the wall with a thud.

He was a fool.

He... he acted like some kid, lusting over a pretty girl in a dress and getting buzzed off of champagne and the sound of her voice and the feel of her waist and her lips—

His hand slammed against the wall as the doors opened and he stomped out of the elevator, boots feeling foreign against the dark carpet of the Manor. There were a few lights dimly lit in the otherwise dark hallway, and he supposed the only appropriate place to go would be the kitchen. After all, it's not like he could go to bed like this.

Bruce made sure to avoid the creaky spots in the floor— only, and not that he would willingly admit it, because Alfred would definitely yell at him for wearing his suit in the house.

He rounded a corner down another hallway.

He had pulled the cowl up. He pulled it up. What the fuck was wrong with him? He'd spent the entire night trying to lead her off his trail only to lose his mind when she'd inadvertently called him handsome?

"Damnit," he groaned.

He hated it because he'd liked it— he'd really liked it— because being complimented by Meredith Elias, who so solemnly gave praise out, was like being on the world's biggest ego trip, and at that moment, Bruce hadn't been better than any other man who would've felt the exact same way.

The billionaire entered the kitchen, where the lights were already on. If he'd been paying attention, he would've realized that Alfred never left the lights on throughout the night, but Bruce was too busy thinking about fact that she had actually kissed him back and it was good— so good—

Out of habit, he absentmindedly pulled a glass from the cupboard and started to fill it with water.

And then she made that noise— that pretty, pretty noise that Meredith used to moan into kisses, which had nearly made him blackout for the rest of the experience because it's as if she knew it was him and he absolutely despised how he had wanted to rip off the entire suit in her office and just have his way with her right there and then and Jesus Christ he needed someone to hit him and hit him hard because this kiss, that had lasted all of probably twenty seconds, had the front of his pants starting to get very uncomfortable—

"Bruce, what the hell are you doing?"

His head snapped up back into reality and to his right, where all three of his sons sat spread throughout the kitchen. Two pairs of blue eyes and one pair of green stared at him curiously, and Dick, who was the one that had spoken, gave him a bizarre look.

Bruce's glove suddenly felt cold and he glanced down to find the water overflowing in his glass and onto the tile floor.

He immediately pulled back, watching the remaining liquid drip off of his arm. He set the glass on the table and stared at his eldest son with irritation.

"Uh, did you get hit with something?" Dick asked.

"No."

Tim then spoke up, eyeing Bruce's body. "Well, I don't know if you're aware or not, but you kinda forgot to change."

"I'm aware," Bruce hissed.

The two older boys exchanged a look.

"So... just fuck the 'no capes in the house' rule, then?" Dick questioned.

Bruce bit his tongue from pointing out that he was in fact not wearing his cape. "What are you three doing up?"

"Um, I'm twenty-five, so I don't really do the whole, like, bedtime thing anymore—"

"Father," Damian suddenly interjected, shooting his harshest glare. "You are bleeding. And what if someone sees you in here dressed like that? Do not be careless, or you are no better than these two halfwits."

Bruce wiped at his mouth again. Right. Blood. Definitely blood.

"Hey!"

"Shut up, Demon."

"Do not ever call me that again, Drake, or I will not hesitate to maim you in your sleep."

"Oooh, I'm sooo scared."

"You should be! I know where you live!"

"We live in the same house."

"I'm going to bed," Bruce announced. He didn't have the energy or mental capacity to deal with his kids at the moment. Water didn't seem necessary anymore.

"Dressed like that?"

"Already? It's only, like, four a.m."

"Do not leave me with them again, Father. The sheer stupidity in this room alone is suffocating—"

Bruce huffed and turned around, heading towards the stairs, hearing the boys' bickering fade into the distance. It was uncomfortably silent once he reached the landing. He approached the door to his room and came to a halt. He stared at his boots for a long, long while.

Then he was turning around and making his way through the hall again, finding the same ladder to the attic as he had done a few weeks ago and pulling it down. Bruce couldn't get the idea of Meredith Elias— his childhood friend, Meredith Elias, who had always been nothing but cunning and cold degrading towards him growing up— actually wanting remotely anything to do with him, or, at least Batman, outside of money or power. He just needed some... reassurance, if that was the right word, that it had all been real.

He tugged the attic light on and a sickly yellow glow filtered across the expansive space. Bruce walked across the floor as he had before, scanning the area for anything labeled with the businesswoman's name.

It... it had been real, hadn't it?

After a few moments of scanning, he saw a series of cardboard boxes tucked near where Oliver's had been, labeled "MARE" in Bruce's sprawly, probably sixteen-year-old handwriting.

He brushed the layer of dust off of the first one he could get his hands on. Inside was a bunch of old tapes and CDs, each with a strip of tape containing titles distinctively written by Devin.

Bruce poked through the collection before pulling one out.

FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!!

Bruce frowned slightly, lightly tapping the small black cassette on the side of the box. He glanced up. Maybe five feet away was the record player. Bruce wondered if it still worked.

He eventually had the tape set up properly, electively ignoring the fact that he was Batman, and quite literally still dressed as such, and here he was, setting up crappy old cassettes in his attic all because he kissed a woman he used to kiss when he was fifteen.

He'd managed to plug the TV in and it surprisingly blinked to life. The screen was faded and colors could barely be made out— all muted shades with a faint casting of static green over top.

The video began.

"Aw, Shortstack's first day of junior year!" Devin's voice came over the background, the screen showing nothing but a jumbled mess of sporadic movements.

Bruce crouched down next to the screen and squinted his eyes, crossing his arms.

The camera finally straightened out, revealing a startling sight of a seventeen-year-old Bruce in a Gotham Academy uniform, appearing appropriately irritated.

Bruce looked young. Really young.

Although the quality wasn't fantastic, he could tell his skin looked like he was still a baby. When had he stopped looking like that?

"Shut the fuck up," young Bruce muttered, mouth full with some breakfast food.

Bruce cringed. He sounded like a baby, too.

And why the hell did he used to wear his hair like that?

"How do you feel?" Devin asked. "Like a big boy?"

Bruce felt proud of the way that even his younger self's glare was still on par.

"Well, I feel great!" Another voice interrupted, and the camera sloppily panned over to a figure that made Bruce's mouth nearly fall open because holy shit did Oliver Queen look like a child. Messy hair, no beard and everything. "I think I look pretty sexy, too."

Oliver made some dumb poses which caused Bruce's mouth to quirk up slightly. Young Bruce seemed pissed off, chewing on what looked like a waffle and rolling his eyes.

"Tell us, Oliver," Devin spoke as a reporter would. "The world wants to know: what are your thoughts on the ladies this year?"

"Uh, that they're gonna fucking love me? But, I mean, duh."

"That's humble," younger Bruce commented.

"Oh, my bad, Pretty Boy. The ladies are gonna fucking love us. Listen, Devin—" Oliver grabbed the camera lens and put it solely on his own face. "We're hot and funny— well, I'm funny— and we're rich. What else do women even want?"

Video Bruce scoffed. "Maybe not a douchebag?"

"Well, speak for yourself then!" Oliver retorted. "Because I'm a great guy, thank you very much."

"Great guys usually don't need to say that they're great guys, Loser," a new voice interjected, this one sharp and feminine.

And then Bruce finally confirmed that it had, in fact, been real, because into the camera appeared Meredith Elias, all dark hair and red lips and irritated glare, looking exactly how Bruce remembered her.

Bruce watched his younger self snicker at the way Oliver reeled back in shock. He also didn't miss the way that his younger self, even on video, like a true, idiotic teenage boy, eyed Meredith in a way that Bruce would now scold one of his sons for doing to someone.

"And here, everyone, we have my favorite little sissy, Mer—!"

"If you point that camera at me I'll shove it up a place it should never be, Devin."

The camera froze in place. Young Bruce laughed again in the background.

A real laugh that currently had Bruce scowling because he couldn't actually recall ever laughing like that.

"Hey, Dad, Meredith's threatening me!" Devin's voice came over the speakers again, and then the camera turned to Gregory Elias walking into the kitchen.

The man came to a halt next to Bruce, who was sitting at the counter. Gregory raised a brow. "Was it well-deserved, Bruce?"

Younger Bruce looked up from his plate of waffles and smirked. "Yeah."

Devin protested, shouting some ill-mannered profanities which then had Gregory scolding him. Video Bruce and Oliver were laughing again. The commotion made the speaker sound static.

They finally calmed down and the camera stilled again, just enough to catch Gregory himself smiling slightly. "You three should be leaving soon. You can't be late for the first day."

"We probably could," Oliver said. "We could just say we're sick!"

"Or that we got sporadically hit by a bus," young Bruce commented, absolutely deadpan, which had Oliver giggling again.

Gregory stared at Bruce with a strange look, rolling his eyes and then reaching out to ruffle Bruce's hair.

Video Bruce immediately tried to duck as he swatted the man away. "Uncle Gregory, I'm seventeen."

"Exactly. You're still a baby, Bruce."

"Am not!"

Currently, Bruce couldn't exactly describe the feeling in his chest as he watched the interaction. He tilted his head. It was funny how things changed— Bruce somewhat remembered being that young— thinking you knew everything, feeling that you had all the time in the world and you'd never get any older than you were in that moment.

And now, with a son the exact same age, Bruce took on the role that Gregory played in the video, that of the father who irritated his kids by telling them they didn't truly know anything about life.

The video continued in the background but Bruce couldn't find it in himself to pay attention. The screen dimly lit his face as he let himself sit down on the cold, hardwood floor. He rested his arms on top of his knees and knit his brow.

Bruce had made a lot of decisions when he was younger. Because he'd been like his own sons, who, while smart, were still young and foolish and thought they knew best.

And Gregory in the video was right— Bruce had been just a baby— a baby who probably didn't have any business making major decisions such as changing the entire trajectory of his life by training to be a masked vigilante at the ripe old age of twenty.

Hell, Dick was twenty-five and Bruce still had a hard time coming to terms with the fact that his son was a capable adult.

For the first time in a long time, Bruce found himself almost wishing he could go to Gregory for advice. Not that Bruce needed advice— he most certainly didn't— he was the protector of Gotham and headed both an entire billion-dollar conglomerate and a league of the world's most powerful people, but it... wouldn't be unwelcome, to hear how Gregory navigated his kids getting old.

It would also be appreciated for someone to tell Bruce what the hell you should do when you kiss your childhood crush while dressed up as your vigilante alter ego which she wasn't aware was actually you because if she did she would probably ruin you and expose your identity to the public and steal your entire fortune, but that sounded like more of a personal problem.

Bruce ran his hands, still covered in black tactical gloves, over his face.

He sighed.

* * *

Gray heels clicked down the tile floor of the Wayne Enterprises tower.

Meredith felt awfully dead inside— like a ghost floating through the hallways— with so much going on in her head that it all jumbled into one big, confusing, incoherent ball of absolutely nothing.

There were too many things to think about. Too many thoughts she was better off just not addressing. Too many questions and too few answers, and Meredith hated not having answers, so for the time being, she was better off pretending that everything in her life was completely fine.

She reached a desk where a woman sat.

The woman looked up. Brown eyes widened. "M-Ms. Elias!" The woman looked towards her computer screen and scrolled through it frantically. "I'm so sorry, I— I didn't realize you were on the schedule for today—"

Meredith held up a hand. "I'm not. I'm just here to speak to someone."

"Oh, uh, well, Mr. Wayne isn't actually in his office at the moment—"

"And thank God for that," the businesswoman muttered beneath her breath as she continued on her way down the hall.

"Okay, just let me know if you, uh, need anything!"

"Thank you, Dana." Meredith passively waved a hand behind her at the secretary.

She walked down the hallway, looking into a man's office. It was empty. She frowned.

Meredith continued towards the conference room, where she could see men sitting around the table. She reached the glass doors and pushed them open.

The room went silent as all eyes turned towards her.

The figure presenting at the front— an African man with withered eyes and grayed hair in his sideburns— appeared stunned. Very par for the course, considering she hadn't seen him in years.

"Meredith Elias," Lucius Fox spoke evenly, although the shocked look in his eyes betrayed him. "What an... unexpected surprise."

She offered a curt smile. "I was hoping to speak to you, Lucius."

He glanced around the room. "How pertinent is it?"

"I wouldn't be here if it wasn't."

The man hesitated for a moment. He clasped his hands together. "Very well." He addressed the men seated at the table. "I'm afraid we'll have to continue this at another time. Thank you gentlemen for being here today."

The group clamored quietly as they stood up, packing papers and laptops into briefcases. Meredith nodded at them as they exited, closing the door after the last one left. The room fell into silence.

She stared at Lucius. He seemed... old.

"So, how can I possibly be of service to the Businesswoman of the Century?" He seemed to tease.

Meredith unfortunately wasn't in the mood for games. "I need this to be confidential."

The man's features didn't change. Meredith had a feeling he already knew why she was here.

He opened his own laptop on the podium in front of him and hit a few buttons. It took him a few moments before he closed it again. He cracked one of his knuckles, before politely placing them back in front of him like they usually were. He cleared his throat. "All footage of you being here today is now inaccessible."

"To everyone?"

"Everyone," he assured.

She sighed.

There was a pause.

"I need to see the numbers of Wayne Enterprises' weapons division over the last twenty years."

He tilted his head ever so slightly. "May I ask why?"

Another hesitation.

"I just want to make sure that there are no... miscalculated funds. That nothing was missed, or accidentally put somewhere that Wayne Enterprises shouldn't have money in."

Lucius stared at her with a knowing look that only Lucius, and maybe Alfred Pennyworth, were capable of producing. One that meant they were aware of everything you were thinking and then some.

The man chuckled. "Was he really so obvious?"

Meredith was unmoving.

"He kissed me."

Lucius seemed nothing but somewhat amused. "Ah. Still ever the Casanova, I see." He tilted his head down with a smile. "Come with me, Meredith."

She furrowed her brows as he led her back down the hall, past Dana, and into the elevator. Lucius pressed a portion of the wall which revealed a small panel. He scanned his thumb into the screen before pressing a few buttons on a keypad.

It read: THANK YOU, MR. FOX.

The elevator started to descend, quickly passing over the fiftieth floor, then the fortieth, thirtieth, and so on. Just when they reached the ground floor, the elevator continued to go downwards.

Finally, they came to a stop and the doors opened, revealing an expansive room, all covered in white. The Wayne Enterprises laboratories, she knew— she'd been down here a time or two. Scientists in white coats roamed around, tinkering on machines in all various shapes and sizes, some Meredith could figure out their use, and some she definitely couldn't.

A few of the employees greeted Lucius as they walked past. He took Meredith down a smaller hallway to the side, with a door at the end labeled "JANITOR."

He pushed it open and allowed her inside. It simply looked like a cleaning closet, with sprays and mops hanging around the many shelves.

"Lucius, what are we—"

The man pushed another portion of the wall and a keypad similar to the one in the elevator appeared. He followed the same process as last time. Then, one of the metal shelves slid over and revealed a second door, which seemed to scan Lucius' eye pattern.

"WELCOME: LUCIUS FOX."

The door opened and inside was just pitch black.

She stared at the man in confusion, and he gestured for her to follow. Meredith took a step into the darkness. It was cold inside— she could tell it was an incredibly massive space.

The lights switched on, and Meredith's heart stopped.

Rows and rows of all-black machinery lined the hangar— cars and motorcycles, weapons and trinkets with bats plastered over them— everything needed for a vigilante to appropriately do his job. She slowly walked forwards, mouth agape, taking in the sight of everything.

"Impressive, no?"

There was a line of suits in glass cases along the back wall, all different shades of black and sometimes blue— variations of the infamous Batman.

Meredith felt that overwhelming burn behind her eyes again. She took in a deep breath, collecting herself. She faced Lucius.

The man now looked concerned. "Meredith?"

"You—" Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. "Did... did I do this to him?"

"Oh, Meredith," Lucius hummed quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. She bit the inside of her lip, nearly drawing blood to stop herself from tearing up again. "There is nothing you could've done. You know that— you know him."

She turned her head away. "Did I push him too hard into something he didn't want? Did I push the whole merger thing too much? That he... that he had to go and do this?"

"Meredith, Bruce chose this—"

"Bruce doesn't know what the hell is good for him!" she exploded, pushing Lucius' hand off of her shoulder. "But I knew, Lucius! I knew! I... I..." Her arms practically shook with rage as she desperately tried to formulate words. "I had a plan! I had a plan and it was going to work and Bruce ruined it! I had a way— I have a way— to save the city that doesn't involve dressing like a fucking bat and beating guys up in alleyways and—"

She froze.

Her heart skipped a beat. She looked up at Lucius.

"That's why he left, isn't it?" she asked quietly, like some child who didn't know any better.

"Meredith—"

"Right? That's why he left, isn't it?"

"Meredith, please—"

"That's why he left me! That's why he faked his fucking death and disappeared from the face of the planet and left me to fix the mess he made for five fucking years only to come back and pretend I didn't exist, isn't it? To do this shit?! His convoluted way of saving the city which really doesn't do anything but cause more trouble?"

"Meredith, please. This was not your fault."

"Of course it is!" she cried. "Of course it's my fault!" She ran her hands desperately through her hair. "Maybe I should've tried harder. I should've pushed him harder. I— we— we had a deal, I should've said yes, then he wouldn't be in this mess—" She exhaled breathily. "He didn't deserve this, Lucius. I mean, he runs around the city in the dead of night, every night, for fucking years, and he has kids, I just can't—"

She gasped. It was a trembling breath as she came to the startling realization.

"The kids," she muttered. "Oh my G— the kids. The Robins. I—" Her jaw stuttered. "Lucius, please tell me that Bruce is not sending his kids, his children, his eleven-year-old son, out to fight crime in Gotham City. Tell me that's not true. Tell me it's not true right now because if it is true—"

"Meredith." Lucius' tone was stern and down-to-Earth, pulling her out of the delusion she was starting to spiral into.

The air was cold and she could feel her cheeks were wet. "What."

"You don't own Bruce. You couldn't have pushed him towards any which way. He is a grown man. This is what he felt was best—"

"He. Doesn't. Know—"

"—And I'm sorry you feel that way. But regardless of your stance on Bruce's decisions, none of it was any fault of your own."

Meredith glared so fiercely at the man that her eyes ached. "He lied to me, Lucius. Come to think of it— you lied to me, too! You all lied! But even if we ignore that, you're a smart man. Probably one of the smartest I know. Do you really think Batman helps the city? Sure, it was corrupt and a disaster pre-vigilantes, but after he showed up, who the fuck followed? All the crazies: Joker, Penguin, Scarecrow, you name it! And then... and then these other so-called heroes come out of the woodworks, which then attract extraterrestrial threats. So now not only are we still no better than where we began, we are now a target on a universal scale! All because of... what? Bruce's adrenaline addiction? The fact that he hates sitting at a fucking desk and going to meetings? His desire to play dress-up?"

"Meredith—"

"And I had a plan! That was proven to work! Made by his father, no less, and yet Bruce pushes me aside every time I bring it up for years when it would actually help the city that he so carelessly risks his life and his children's lives for every goddamn night—"

"Don't—"

"And you! Lucius, why the hell are you supporting this... this suicide mission? He throws himself off buildings for Christ's sake! One bullet, one misstep, and it's over! For real this time, not that fucking joke of a funeral Bruce forced me to arrange for him twenty years ago so he could now parade around as some superhero—"

He pursed his lips. "Because Batman stands for something, Meredith. He's good. Bruce is good. Bruce is trained. He's trained so hard— if you only saw all the work he's put in—"

"Oh!" A laugh spilled over her lips and she raised her brows in shock. "The work? The work he's put in? You mean the work that he is only able to do because he left everyone high and dry and made me figure out this nightmare of a company for five years?! The work he does with the money that I made?! This very room is only here because of me!"

There was a long silence.

"Then what are you going to do, Meredith?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Wha— what do you mean?"

"Well, since you are obviously in the right and Bruce is always wrong, what are you now going to do with this information?"

"Don't patronize me, Lucius. I'm not nineteen and stupid—"

"I never said you were. I asked what you are going to do now."

"I—" Meredith paused.

What was she going to do now?

"Well, I—"

What did she want?

"Why would I tell you?" she finally questioned. "If you're just going to go and relay it back to him—"

"I could've alerted Bruce that you were here a long time ago, Meredith. Because you are right— I did lie to you once. And even if you don't believe it, I do regret that. So I'm not going to tell you what to do, and I'm not going to tell Bruce what we've talked about. You should act how you see fit."

"And... and what if I decide to just expose him to the public?"

Lucius had the ghost of a smile on his face. "Meredith, if you were to 'get back' at Bruce, you are much too smart to just give up your advantage like that. And even if you did decide to do so, you rightfully figured out his identity. The cards are all in your hand. I won't advise you how to play them."

Meredith stared at Lucius, reaching a hand up to angrily wipe her cheeks.

"I... I'm not sure what I'm going to do." She finally choked out a laugh, swiping her thumbs under her eyes. "But it shouldn't be too hard."

He paused. "Why is that?"

She shook the tears off of her hands. "Because Bruce is easy. Because I batted some eyelashes and dished out a few compliments and he essentially exposed his oh-so-hard-kept secret identity to me in a total of ten seconds. Because he thinks I'm some idiot who isn't aware of what's going on around her, and underestimating someone is the worst mistake you can make in this city. Because Bruce has always been such a sucker for a pretty woman—" She brushed her hair out of her face and huffed. "Such a sucker for me. It's no secret. I'm not a moron. And so— you know what? You know what I'm going to do?"

Meredith set her jaw and straightened her navy blue blazer. "I'm going to actually complete this godforsaken merger, that's what I'm going to do. Because I'm tired— I'm so, so tired— of waiting on Bruce who clearly is too far gone to be helped— to save this fucking city. I'm tired! I've wasted twenty goddamn years waiting for his approval and I finally realized about twenty years too late that I don't need his approval. So screw all of this bullshit, because I'm doing this whether Bruce likes it or not! And it'll be a cold, cold day in hell if I die before I see this merger through."

The man said nothing, instead watching her carefully like she was some caged animal about to be set free. His posture was relaxed and his features were flat.

She stopped on her march out of the room. She turned an accusing finger towards the man. "And you watch! You watch and see how Batman isn't the savior that you think he is! He's no white, or Dark Knight, or whatever you all believe. Because Bruce Wayne is not a hero, he's a coward and I'm finally going to take the fucking initiative to do right by this city for the first time in the thirty-nine years I've been on this planet."

There was such a stillness, only filled by the hum of the AC in the background. Meredith took a second to catch her breath, closing her eyes to get some semblance of composure.

"Well, then I will be waiting patiently for that moment."

She stared at him again. She exhaled. She nodded curtly. Lucius started to walk in the other direction, presumably letting her ride the elevator back up on her own.

Meredith hesitated. She groaned internally.

"Lucius."

The man turned around.

"I'm... sorry. I— I didn't mean to act like that. I just—"

"It's quite alright. The circumstances are rather... overwhelming. Even for the best of us. I understand."

She nodded and began to enter the elevator once again.

"But you should remember—"

She stopped.

"—While you're deciding on how to play your cards, think about what the concept of Batman means to people. You'd... be surprised what you'll find."

Meredith bit her lip again. "Thank you, Lucius."

With that, she turned and walked back through the doors.

Later that night, Meredith stood in front of the large windows in her office, overlooking the Gotham City skyline. It was gorgeous from up above— hard to believe that just in the streets below, corruption, murder, and violence ran rampant. She eyed the bridges on the outskirts of the city leading to the mainland. Meredith sighed. She could leave at any time— if she said the word she'd be gone, off to any continent or island or planet she wanted, where she could live a stress-free life on some beach that didn't have drug dealers or killer clowns or batmen.

She had a mug of coffee in her left hand and her phone in the right.

Meredith was doing a lot of thinking about Thomas Wayne over the last few hours— how Thomas and Martha should've left when they had the chance. She remembered being young and walking into his study, overhearing her father talking with him about the very same thoughts Meredith was having right now. She wondered how different life would've been if Thomas hadn't been such a hopeful martyr— because Gregory would've followed Thomas anywhere, and if Thomas gave the green light, Gotham City would have never heard from the Wayne's or Elias' ever again.

If she closed her eyes and tried hard enough, she could almost hear Thomas' bellowing laugh and the rough pads of his fingers.

She sighed.

And because of Thomas Wayne's decisions, she was now stuck in an entanglement with his son who played some playboy-by-day-vigilante-figure-by-night and leading a team of heroes alongside him.

Meredith sipped her coffee.

She'd wished it a million times and she's sure she'd wish it a million more— but there was no amount of money Meredith Elias wouldn't pay to bring Bruce's parents back.

She watched the cars create specks of flickering lights along the roads.

Meredith finally opened her phone and the screen illuminated her features. She pressed a few buttons and it finally started ringing. She held it up to her ear, eyes not leaving the glowing waters of the bay.

When it almost neared the last ring, a person picked up the other end.

"Hello?" His voice was condescending and the way he drew the word out sent a shudder down her spine— he knew exactly why she was calling.

She tucked one arm under the other. "I... thought about your offer."

"Really?" he teased. She could picture the smirk on his lips. "And what conclusion did you come to, might I ask?"

Meredith knew what she said next was probably a mistake— a horrible mistake that made her the biggest fool in the world because someone as smart as her should never be trusting a man like Lex Luthor.

"I'm in."

He simply laughed, cold and snake-like, oozing confidence like the businessman always did.

Meredith eyed the lights glittering along the bridges wearily.

"Well, you're right on time, Elias. Still the most punctual person I know, as always."

* * *

Hello again everyone! I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far- I've been reading all of the lovely comments you guys leave me and I really appreciate them! It's hell week at school currently, so today was pretty tough for me lol. It's nice to just sit down and be able to post a chapter for everyone :) Thank you all for over 50k and, as usual, I'd love to hear your thoughts!

xo Alexa