Chapter Text
He was pale and shaky when they got back to the cave. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You weren’t supposed to be a target.”
Angela tried to extricate herself from his death grip, “They’ll lose interest, eventually, love. When it looks like Bruce has Batman on speed dial, and isn’t willing to pay out, they're gonna think twice about it.”
“I can’t lose you. Every time this happens, it feels like the last time I’ll ever see you.”
“I know, darling. I know. And it is scary. But I have to believe you’ll always be there. Most of these people are small-time and scared. They’re just looking to make it big, and one take-down by the Batman will probably scare them off for good.”
Bruce growled unintelligibly and walked back to the changing area, and Alfred handed her a mug of cocoa.
“Thanks, Alfred.”
“Will you be requiring anything else this evening, ma’am?”
“No, Alfred, but I did want to make sure everything was in line for the meeting tomorrow. I was thinking the library, since the desk was bigger, and there were more chairs, but I wanted to ask what you thought.”
“The library will do, ma’am. I will make arrangements for refreshments. What time would you like them to be served?”
“The meeting starts at two, so maybe give us a bit to settle in, let’s call it two thirty.”
“Very well, ma’am.”
“Thank you again, Alfred.”
The butler nodded, then left to head upstairs.
Bruce returned from the changing area. “What’s the meeting tomorrow?”
“Wedding planners wanted to go over the gameplan in person now. Honestly, Bruce, I thought we had already hashed it over last week, but for some reason, Jodi has something against the theme or something, and I’m just a little confused.”
“What does she have against the theme?” He asked, rubbing his neck.
“I’m not even close to sure, something about it not being enough...” Angela gestured vaguely before sipping her cocoa.
Bruce shook his head and walked her to the elevator. “I thought we were to the calling the vendors part. What good is a whole team of planners if they can’t agree on anything for the entire first month?”
“They just don’t agree with me, love. I think I’m too much of a bumpkin for their tastes.”
“There’s only six months left before the date we set, and they want to disagree with the bride? What are they doing?” Bruce sighed, “I knew the seven month engagement was too short.”
The elevator let out, and they made their way upstairs. Bruce had a possessive arm around Angela’s waist.
“I know, but the publicity for the museum would be amazing, and that is ahead of schedule. We both thought about how difficult it would be to get this off the ground in seven months, but I think we can make it, so long as the vendor negotiations don’t drag. Your influence is coming in mighty handy.”
Bruce huffed out a heavier breath that could have been a laugh, but Angela wasn’t about to bet on that. She finished her cocoa, and set it down, excusing herself for a short shower in the guest room that had become all but her second home. There were drawers full of items specifically for her use, and there were even toiletries dedicated to her. Alfred had actually asked what kind of toothpaste she preferred.
Her shower finished, hair still damp, she returned to Bruce’s side. He hadn’t moved an inch the entire duration. His hands were clasped pensively, elbows propped on his knees, head resting on his interlaced fingers in an approximation of a casual pose. His jaw clenched and unclenched, a habit she realized she was picking up too, as she consciously relaxed her gritted teeth.
“What should we watch? Or do you need to head out? This one was a little later than usual,” Her tone was carefully light.
Bruce just grunted, seemingly unable to leave whatever trail of thought he was traversing. Angela settled in next to him, going so far as to lie across his lap by squeezing under his arms. It was a bit like spelunking, but her efforts did seem to shake him out just enough to recognize her desire for affection.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest and kissing her forehead. “You better be right about them losing interest. This is a terrible routine.”
“But it has taught me something.” Angela commented, a bit slyly.
“What?” Bruce had caught her tone and was highly suspicious.
“There certainly is something to be said about being tied up,” She said it with such nonchalance, Bruce didn’t register what she had been insinuating. After a moment of complete and utter silence, she rolled her eyes, “I think I’m starting to get a thing for it. Maybe it’s something we should try someday.”
Bruce blinked then scowled, “No.”
“Come on, baby, you do it all the time.”
“To criminals…”
“Yeah, so?”
“You’re not a criminal.”
“And?”
“I’m not tying up the woman I love.”
Angela laughed heartily, “But you’d be so good at it! And you’d always leave me a way to get out, since we don’t know when duty calls, so there’s no actual danger. Just an element of added excitement.”
Bruce’s lip curled, “Oh you won’t need any added elements of excitement.”
Angela rolled her eyes, and grinned, covering her face to conceal the bright red flush in her face. Bruce finally laughed, his lap shaking, which made Angela laugh too. Soon enough they were sighing and trying to catch their breaths.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever had anyone to laugh with like this.” Bruce wheezed.
“And that’s why you’re keeping me around,” Angela giggled, “I just have such a great sense of humor.” The delivery was an attempt at dryness, but with all the laughter, her voice was just too breathy and hoarse to pull it off.
“You do,” He was more serious now. “And that is a reason. You make me feel so much lighter. Happier. More real.”
Angela reached up to kiss his cheek. “And you make me feel safe, appreciated, and loved. I have never met anyone like you.”
The crime monitor beeped. Angela groaned.
“Duty calls, sorry Angel.”
“Be a hero, but a smart one. No new bruises, you hear?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You always do.”
“I just think you aren’t seeing the big picture here, Miss Kent.” Jodi said, adjusting her glasses in the same self-important way she had done every time she was trying to make a point.
“I understand your concern, Jodi, but it’s not just a social event. I don’t want the bells and whistles to distract from the actual meaning of the day. I get that we have a certain audience to impress, but my family will also be in attendance, and I don’t want them to feel out of place or pushed aside.”
“How many seats were we talking, again?” Garrett asked, flipping through notes.
“Two hundred attendees.” Jodi answered flatly, clearly ticked that her assistant had not kept track of the number.
Angela blanched. She hadn’t heard the new number either. She thought the invitations had already been sent, and she had no knowledge of the extra fifty people now being discussed. “Two hundred?”
“We’re doing a sweepstakes for the last twenty seats.”
That left thirty more definitive guests that Angela still had no knowledge of. “A sweepstakes, for a wedding?”
“We won’t make any money, but it will help drum up the publicity.”
“Make money? Aren’t we paying you? Besides, we have already invited members of the press to cover the event - what more publicity can we possibly need?”
“It’s an event. Events are typically meant to make money.”
“It’s a wedding. You know, family, friends and colleagues? People we actually know?”
“It’s the wedding of the century. The press is going wild with it already. The fact that it isn’t a destination wedding makes it all the more tantalizing for the general public. They want to have a taste, especially when the bride comes from…” Jodi stopped herself before she said something offensive.
Angela rubbed her temples and poured herself another cup of tea, wishing it was something stronger. Between the kidnappings, Jodi’s steamrolling, and the museum project, sleep was something she was not having. She would do something pretty desperate to get Bruce to take her somewhere where they could both sleep for two days straight.
“Miss Kent, Master Bruce has arrived home, and is looking for you,” Alfred interjected politely.
Angela could have kissed him. “Where is he?”
“In his study.”
“Excuse me, everyone, I’ll be back in just a moment,” Angela forced a smile. Bruce’s was the only voice she wanted to hear right now.
Alfred opened the door to the study, revealing Bruce standing by one of the shelves, stroking his chin.
“Hi, honey, how was work? Sorry I had to leave early today, they were harping on this meeting.”
“Hmm? Oh, yeah, work was fine.”
“Were you really looking for me, or was Alfred rescuing me, I wonder,” Angela mused, glancing back at the door.
“Why would he need to rescue you? Is something wrong?”
Alfred approached, a perturbed look on his face, which put Bruce on guard. “Sir, these people are clearly not listening to a word Miss Angela is saying, they have overrun her on several occasions, and the guest list has skyrocketed beyond what they had initially agreed upon. They are out of hand.”
Bruce’s brow knit together, “I’ll handle it,” He took Angela’s hand and practically marched them back to the library.
Jodi and team were flipping through pages and pages of notes and palettes and only looked up when Bruce cleared his throat.
“I’ve come to understand that the guest list has changed, even though the invitations have been sent out already?”
Jodi blanched. “Sir?”
“Invitations were sent out a week ago. RSVP’s have already started. And the “Save the Dates” were sent out almost an entire month ago, after the engagement announcement. The guest list was set. Now I’m hearing you’re wanting to add more?” Bruce’s voice was calm, but dangerously firm, “I don’t believe that’s a wise decision, especially now that there’s less time for potential guests to prepare their schedules. Have you run the additions by me and I just didn’t see it?”
Jodi stuttered, “The sweepstakes winners haven’t been announced yet…”
“Sweepstakes?” Bruce’s calm mask slipped, “Who approved a sweepstakes? Has this been announced publicly?”
“Not yet…”
“Good, because that is absolutely not happening. This is an intimate moment, a family and friends affair only, and I won’t be having it turned into some sort of prize to be bought,” Bruce was fuming now, “And another thing. We are on a time crunch now. I am a very busy man and I don’t have time for any of this to get out of hand. I do apologize for the short turn around, but I hired you to make the process faster and smoother. My fiancée shouldn’t have to argue the details with you, especially when her vision seems to be far more reasonable and simple than what you’re making it out to be. The guest list reverts to the original, the tone and theme are whatever Angela decides on, and you are on strike two. Any more of this will result in your immediate termination from this wedding contract, and a very public complaint.”
The wedding planners were all very silent and very still.
Angela fidgeted nervously, uncomfortable with the conflict on her account, “Let’s pick this up again some other time, it’s gotten late, and I don’t want to keep you from your evening.” Her voice was quavering just slightly, but they all looked to her gratefully.
When the planners had gone, Bruce looked at her with some concern. “You could use a break, too. Let’s go out. We haven’t had time for a date in forever, and one of the last remaining three-ring circuses is in town.”
“Haven’t you been working on that racketeering thing? Isn’t that kind of pressing?”
“Sure, but I also could use the break.” His response was diplomatic, but there was some truth behind it.
The tent was huge. Or rather, three interconnected tents. Bruce bought popcorn and led her into the largest central tent. They sat five rows up, close enough to the action on the ground, but high enough to watch the trapeze artists without craning their necks too far. Bruce always managed to find the best seats in the house.
The show began. It was a spectacle, to say the least. The circus master was charismatic and just mysterious enough to draw in the viewers as he welcomed them to “Haly’s Circus, a living relic, a wonder for all ages.” Lights burst on, transforming the relatively dim tent into a dazzling and colorful display. Music blared, and the performers made their way into the main ring. It was a dance number, choreographed and perfect, clearly a routine they had done many times.
The individual acts were mesmerizing, each one more daring than the last. Angela’s breath caught when a woman dancing on the back of a horse flew, somersaulting through the air to dismount, landing with a flourish.
But nothing prepared her for the next act. A trio of acrobats, father, mother and son. She had seen them during the opener, walking on their hands, then climbing one on top of the other, but now they were on the trapeze. There was no net. The boy, small for his age at twelve, a mere pinpoint above them. Their set was heart-racing. The boy performed a few solo swings, to roaring cheers from the audience. Then the father displayed true power, seeming to laugh at gravity during his feature. The mother appeared to float gracefully, her strength elegantly matched with delicate and flowing movements, as if she were exerting no effort at all. Then the father and mother joined together, catching one another mid air. For their final few tricks, they began swinging toward their son, the mother reaching out, ready to catch him. The boy looked at the trapeze and froze. Then time seemed to stop. The cable on one side of the bar frayed -
Then snapped.
The acrobats fell rapidly, the safety mat seconds too slow. The space inside the tent felt as though all of the air had been sucked out.
Pandemonium erupted. People began screaming. Bruce shot up, then hesitated, unsure of what to do in this situation. The boy was stuck up on the tall ledge they had been landing on. He didn’t move, didn’t cry out, he just stood stock still, pale and small against the tall ceiling of the tent.
Emergency services were called. Angela was frozen to her seat as people ran aimlessly, some toward the exit, some toward the scene. As paramedics and police arrived, order was slowly wrangled into place. EMT’s carted the bodies away, while a fireman scaled the pole the acrobats had climbed minutes earlier, wrapping the boy in a blanket, then strapping him into a harness to be lowered to the ground.
When he reached the sand of the ring, his face was more visible. Shock had settled in full force and his eyes were glazed. Angela felt something inside of her break when she saw his face. Tears began to fall and her hands trembled as she stood next to her fiancé. He took her shaking hand in his and pulled her head into his chest.
Of all the terror and struggles she had witnessed or experienced thus far, nothing compared to the feeling of helplessness in this moment.
“What’s going to happen to him?” She wept, “I need to know he’s going to be alright!” She gripped Bruce’s lapel in a white knuckled fist, burying her head deeper into him.
He guided her gently from their seats toward one of the officers on the scene. “Officer Montoya,” his voice was deathly calm, “What’s going to happen to the boy?”
The officer let out a long breath, rubbing her temples, “Honestly, I can’t say for certain at the moment. We’ll search for any family members, maybe a godparent or something, but unfortunately, he’ll probably have to stay with one of us or at the precinct. We aren’t legally allowed to leave him with the circus.”
“I want to be sure he’s taken care of. If I need to sponsor a stay somewhere, or even act as a sort of temporary guardian, I would be willing to do anything. I know exactly what he is feeling right now.” He sounded just as broken as Angela felt, solemn and stoic as he was trying to remain for her sake.
The officer’s face showed some recognition, then sympathy. “I’ll see if I can authorize some updates for you, in the meantime, we need to bring him in for some statements. You’re welcome to follow us to the precinct and wait for a decision.”