Who: Bruce and Rachel What: Reunions. (Alive!Rachel = Happy!Bruce.) Where: Wayne Manor. When: Backdated to before the masquerade. Warnings/Rating: None.
Rachel was still not sure how she convinced Whitney to go through the door, but suddenly here she was, standing on the streets of Gotham. It looked different. It didn’t look like the same city that she had grown accustomed growing up here. The streets seemed grimmer, and the whole area had a hostile feeling.
She was fortunate she had money and her keys in her pockets, so she hailed a cab to take her back to her apartment. She hoped it was still there. She didn’t want to wander around town in the same clothing she had been wearing that night. She thought that the fates were cruel to do such a thing to her, and if she had the chance, she would burn it. Fortunately, her building looked mostly the same, the doorman greeted her as if she had always been there, and the key worked in her apartment.
She wandered around, looking for any signs of anything amiss, anything that might tell her if Bruce or Harvey had been here, or if they were in this jarring version of Gotham. But the place looked pristine, as if a cleaning service had been in. She quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a light sweater, and then stared at herself in the mirror. She was dead. She knew she was dead, and yet here she was, standing in her own apartment. She even looked a bit younger, as if the stress lines and bags under her eyes from the past year had cleared from her face.
She sat down on the edge of her bed to think. She had been warned to not come to Gotham, that it wouldn’t be safe for her here. She knew she had enemies, but she also had friends. She also knew the safest place she could be right now while she was here was the one place she wasn’t sure if she’d be welcome - Wayne Manor. She wasn’t sure if Bruce would want her there, but she knew that he wouldn’t turn her away.
She packed an overnight bag, just in case, and went down to the secured parking under her building. Having worked for the DA, she was well versed in how to look over her car to make sure that it was secure, and after doing so, she got in and made her way out of town to the sprawling estate where she had grown up as the daughter of one of the Wayne servants.
The gate code was still the same, and Rachel quickly parked her car in the back and entered through the back door. Wayne Manor seemed normal, and that comforted Rachel. She moved through the house, looking for signs of life. “Alfred? Bruce?” she called out, “Is anyone home?” She hoped someone would be here, because she had so many questions.
Bruce preferred to divide his twenty-four hours in Gotham over an extended period of time to make them last, rather than spending them consecutively. There were exceptions, of course, and the fact that he had responsibilities during both the night and the day (the sooner Lucius arrived, the sooner that would become simpler) complicated matters, but he was doing the best he could. At the moment he was alone in Wayne Manor, under the assumption that Alfred had not crossed yet. It would have been easy to get in touch with Iris R. and request Alfred’s presence if he so desired, but while he liked having the older man around, it wasn’t necessary at present. When Alfred wanted to come, he would come. Iris seemed like a reasonable enough woman to allow that. Damian was absent as well, though Bruce wasn’t sure if he was actually in Gotham or not; the boy didn’t always come straight to the Manor, and not knowing what he was up to troubled him. He was still getting used to the thought of having a son, not to mention one who wanted to work with him, though the latter was difficult to believe when he was off robbing museums with Catwoman and doing who knows what else behind his back.
Due to the Manor’s security, Bruce was instantly aware when someone stepped foot on the property. No alarms were sounded, no guards dispatched, but he left what he was doing in his ‘Batcave’, as Damian called it, beneath the Manor and took the old service elevator up to the ground floor. There was no suit today, only the sort of casual wear he donned when he was alone, and he headed towards the back entrance, where the intruder (no, not an intruder) had entered. He’d seen who it was over the surveillance screens, but he didn’t trust them. He would only believe it when he’d seen her with his own eyes, which he did a a few moments later, once he rounded the corner, footsteps echoing in the empty halls. Bruce came to a halt, inhaling deeply in an effort to collect himself.
Rachel was dead. Gordon had seen the building explode, and it had been confirmed that she was inside when it had, yet here she was all the same. How was his first question; being a fictional character was one thing, but for the dead to return to life, that was something else entirely. For now, however, Bruce thought it only fair that he had a few moments to express his relief that she was here, that she was alive, yet there was still a fair amount of suspicion. This could be a trick of some sort, after all, or a trap. “Rachel,” he said, taking a step forward. “How much do you remember?”
When she first saw Bruce, her breath caught a bit in the back of her throat. She was dead, after all, and she honestly thought that it was an end, but here she was, standing in front of her oldest friend in the world. No matter what happened between them, he would always be that. However, his question made her wonder if she had made the right choice. Somehow, in her mind, she had expected him to be happier to see her, that he would embrace her and she would be able to make some sense of what is going on.
“I remember that I was kidnapped by the Joker. I remember that I am dead. Though, to be fair, I look really good for being dead.” She glanced at him, wondering just what secrets he was holding now. “I remember everything, I think. I know that you saved Harvey.” That was one of the last memories, telling Harvey it was okay, he could leave, he could be saved. She knew at that point she was likely going to die, and she couldn’t live with the thought that he might die, too.
“But I don’t know how I am here. I just know that here,” she said, sweeping her arm around to indicate Wayne Manor, “was the safest place I could think to come. Considering that things just look and feel different, and I have a strong feeling that Gotham isn’t safe for me, well...” She paused, unsure of what to say for a moment. This was becoming more and more awkward by the second.
It was a strange, unfamiliar knowledge that held him back, wisps of a man who could take on the faces of others and had tormented him with Jason Todd, a loss he suspected his other self had never truly overcome. Bruce stood where he was and listened, recalling what Rachel was describing as vividly as though it had only just occurred. He smiled a little when she said she looked good for being dead, a quick flash of a thing, which faded afterward. How could he tell her that Harvey hadn’t been the one he’d intended to save? The Joker had played him, well aware of who the Bat would choose to save. Gordon had done his best, but he hadn’t been able to reach her in time. Had the Joker not lied, it would have been Harvey who died, and not Rachel. “I reached him in time,” he said, giving a brief nod. “Gordon went after you, but... he was too late. Do you know what happened to Dent afterward?” Bruce wondered if he should tell her the truth, of how Harvey had been pushed into the madness by the Joker; he couldn’t lie to her and tell her that he’d been responsible for all the deaths. She would never believe him capable of it, or so he hoped.
For all his knowledge, Bruce remained woefully ignorant of the letter Rachel had given Alfred. The older man had burnt it without ever revealing it to him, and so he never knew that she’d chosen Harvey, that she hadn’t intended on waiting for him after all. “You were right to come here, Rachel,” he said, his voice gentler, as it rarely was with anyone save for her and Alfred. “Gotham’s changed, and there are some things you need to know.” His suspicion faded away, as quickly as it had come, and he realized he was a fool for keeping her at arm’s length when she was coping with being alive after having been blown to pieces by a madman. He’d missed her, of course, though he wasn’t quite sure how to put it into words. “I’m glad you’re back,” he added, with another one of his small smiles.
The extent of Rachel’s knowledge ended at that moment when her life ended, save for minor things she had gleaned from the journals. She ran her fingers through her hair. “I don’t know anything, Bruce. You’re the first person I’ve talked to since I came back.” Truthfully, she was afraid to ask what happened to Harvey. She knew that he loved her, probably more than she deserved, considering she had spent most of their relationship also in love with Bruce. She was holding onto hope that Harvey had managed to somehow come out the other side a better man. But she knew if she lost Harvey -- or Bruce for that matter-- she’d have had a hard time ever recovering.
The small smile he gave her was just reassuring enough, and without thinking she dropped her bag on the ground and wrapped her arms around him in a warm hug. Touching someone else made Rachel feel like she was a bit more alive, a bit more centered in this strange place that almost looked like home. She pulled back and took a breath. “I missed you, too,” she said in a soft voice. Who knew coming back from the dead would be so emotional? She’d have to pull herself together soon, but for now she was going to give herself this chance to feel.
Bruce found himself wishing that Alfred was there, but he had no way of knowing when the older man would arrive. He would have been able to explain what occurred after Rachel’s death, and the path Harvey had chosen, far better than Bruce himself could. It would hurt her to know what had happened, and he found it difficult to do anything that might cause her pain. She would find out eventually, however, and perhaps it might be best if she heard it from him rather than someone else. “Things got worse after you died,” he admitted. “The Joker was caught, but at a terrible price. Now Gotham is different, and there are people here who know me even though I’ve never met them.” Somehow he would need to explain Damian, the son he’d never had, and Selina, who would be none too pleased by Rachel’s presence, but there would be time for all that.
There was a brief instant in which he was caught off guard, never having expected to see her again, never mind hold her, but Bruce overcame whatever hesitation he might have felt rather quickly and returned the hug. Rachel and Alfred were the only two people who truly knew him here, and who wouldn’t have expectations of him living up to some comic book counterpart as though he was an impostor. “You’re welcome to stay here, even just for the time being,” he said as she stepped back, and it was an impulsive decision, but with Harvey gone and Gotham deteriorating all over again, he wasn’t sure that it was safe for Rachel elsewhere.
Rachel tried to digest that things had gotten worse. Things were downright terrifying, and to think it could have gotten worse just made her stomach clench. However, the fact Harvey hadn’t come up again didn’t really set off any alarm bells. The truth was there was some jealousy there that Rachel was sure Bruce would have. Still, her curiosity got the best of her and she looked up at Bruce. “What happened?” It suddenly dawned on her. “Is Harvey,” she paused, not even sure if she could say the words, “gone?”
She took a deep breath, trying to steel herself. After all, she wasn’t going to cry until she knew for sure. After all, Bruce was offering to once again save her. “Thank you, Bruce. You and I both know that this place has always been home for both of us. And it’s good to know you are still good at the ‘Saving Rachel’ business. It did seem to be one of your better talents.”
She tried to relax, and let her curiosity take over. “So, other versions of you?”
‘Gone’ could mean so many things, and Bruce was torn between remaining vague and offering elaboration. If Rachel could return to Gotham unharmed after having died, there was no reason Harvey couldn’t do the same, but what worried him was the state he might return in. The man he’d been before Rachel’s death was very different from the man he became afterward. “It’s a long story,” he said carefully, “but yes, Harvey is... gone.” At the very least he’d been remembered as a hero, but in this Gotham, all could change. If Harvey Dent did return, it might very well be a version neither of them had met. “I’m sorry, Rachel. He was a good man.” There was still a hint of jealousy, despite him not knowing about her letter and the choice she’d made, particularly when he thought of Harvey reappearing as the white knight he’d originally been. Even if it remained unspoken, the possibility was there.
He’d half-expected Rachel to refuse, and so he was pleasantly relieved when she did the exact opposite. Until he had a better understanding of this Gotham, and the ones who would inevitably come to inhabit it, Bruce wanted her close. “You’re always welcome here. Alfred will be pleased to see you once he arrives.” At least there was one other familiar face here, in the midst of countless others who were likely to be strangers. “I think I’ve improved upon that particular talent,” he added with a smile, effectively hiding the guilt he still felt over his failure to save her. It wouldn’t happen again, he vowed, not at the hands of the Joker or any other nemesis who might appear.
While the thought of other versions of himself was still unsettling, Bruce vastly preferred discussing them to Harvey Dent and his fate. “Yes,” he sighed. “There are multiple versions of me, it seems, and apparently I come from a set of movies rather than the comic books.” He shook his head at the strangeness of it, discussing himself as a fictional character. “In the comics, I have a son named Damian. He’s here. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon enough.” Bruce paused, attempting to formulate some sort of explanation for Selina. “There’s also a thief I ally myself with at some point. Her name is Selina Kyle.” For now, he decided, he’d leave out the part where their comic book selves carried on some sort of relationship.
It took a moment for Rachel to fully digest everything. She had hoped in spite of the fact she had died, that Harvey would have lived, that maybe even one day he would have had what they had planned - a family, a safer Gotham, so many dreams they had shared. Of course, there were some of the same dreams she had with Bruce, which is why it made things so complicated. She wasn’t sure she could look at Bruce and not hurt him in this moment. Her heart hurt for Harvey. “I wish, I wish things could have been different for Harvey. He was a good man. He deserved more than that.” She closed her eyes for a second to regain herself.
She also noticed that Bruce hadn’t mentioned in these other worlds that she was the mother of his child. It was another thing that stung more than it should have. She knew she had chosen Harvey, but at the same time she didn’t think Bruce would ever have any kind of relationship - that’s why she made the choice she made. She finally found her voice, “Wow, a son? That’s surprising.” She didn’t know what else to say to that that wouldn’t come off as jealous or bitter. That was the last thing they needed, especially if things were so dangerous.
Instead, Rachel decided to do what she did best - focus on dealing with the problems at hand. “So, Bruce, what can I do to help? Granted, I am probably not Assistant DA here, but there has to be something I can do, especially if Gotham is even more dangerous. You know I can’t just sit here and be idle, and better to give me something then let me go off and find trouble on my own.” She glanced around. “Is Alfred here?” She could always at least fix lunch for the two of them. She might not be a great cook, but she could make a sandwich.
Despite the jealousy he’d felt while watching Harvey and Rachel together, and the initial disdain he’d harbored for the man until he realized his foolishness and overcame it, Bruce recognized that Harvey Dent had been a decent man. Like Gordon, they were rare types, and had the Joker been unable to corrupt him then there was no telling what he could have gone on to do. Of course, Bruce didn’t yet realize that he would have lost Rachel in the process. “I know,” he agreed quietly, grateful that she didn’t push for details. “He was remembered as a hero afterward. Harvey did more for Gotham without hiding behind a mask than anyone’s done in a long time.” Even if it wasn’t this Gotham, the words still rang true, and Bruce wouldn’t soon forget how Harvey had defended him--well, Batman--on numerous occasions even when every citizen in the city wanted his head.
Damian’s origin was something Bruce was still attempting to work out. There were conflicting stories, at least from what he’d gleaned from Iris’ research, but he did know that the boy’s mother was Talia Al Ghul. Her arrival in Gotham would certainly complicate matters, but for now he was simply opting to hope that she wouldn’t make an appearance. He was wary enough of trusting Ra’s Al Ghul’s grandon, never mind his daughter, and adding another woman he didn’t remember to the mix would only make things worse. “It’s strange. I don’t know how to be a father, Rachel, and the boy is already eighteen,” he admitted. “He’s upset because I don’t know him, and I’m not the man he remembers, but I don’t know how to fix that.” Aside from Alfred, there was no one he trusted enough to discuss Damian and the fact that he really had no idea what he was doing in terms of parenting.
“Some things are different, but some are the same. You might find your old job waiting for you,” he said, making a mental note to do further research into Gotham’s legal scene a little later. Even if Rachel wasn’t the Assistant DA here, she might be a better one than whoever currently held the position. Corruption within the justice system, both lawyers and police officers, still existed in full force here, which meant that Bruce had been feeling the impact of Gordon’s absence more than ever lately. “Alfred isn’t here at the moment, but he might show up soon. I’m not sure.” He hadn’t yet put together a schedule of any sort so their visits to Gotham could be synchronized. “Then again, sometimes he’s here for hours before I notice. We can see if he’s around.” Bruce doubted Rachel would want to sit in a hollowed-out cave and watch while he meticulously studied maps of Gotham, comic books, and other relevant information, so this was a less tedious alternative.
“Well, how can anyone expect you to just be a father,” Rachel said thoughtfully. “I mean, you might share the same name with this other Bruce Wayne, but you aren’t him, any more than I might be the same as some Rachel Dawes that lives in Germany. Anyone who thinks otherwise is fooling themselves.” She knew that if the Bruce standing here was from some other universe, she’d likely have not expected him to let her take shelter in Wayne Manor. She would have likely just crossed back over and stayed there, maybe waiting to see if anyone she was familiar with came.
“Considering it’s late in the day, I suppose I could check back with the DA’s office next time I cross over, though I wonder how effective I could be when I barely can come here. The girl? Whitney? She’s sweet, but poor. She works a lot to make ends meet, and I would be a horrible person if I took away from that to spend all of her time here.” She wished she could move her money here over to the world in Las Vegas, so Whitney wouldn’t have to work so much, and worry so much. However, she didn’t think that was possible, and it was a shame the money she had saved would just sit in this world, wasted.
She glanced at Bruce, and then at the clock. “Well, if Alfred is missing, and if I had to guess, you are working on something, maybe I can scrape you up a late lunch?” She wanted to do something, anything, to feel useful, and this was the best attempt she had at the moment.
“Exactly. I’ll do what I can for Damian, of course, but I can’t be this other man they want me to be,” he said, relieved that Rachel seemed to understand. Bruce was who he was, and he couldn’t change that, no matter how disappointing it was for Selina and Damian to have lost the man they knew. In all fairness, a wide variety of versions might eventually show up in Gotham. It was impossible for him to be the Bruce Wayne that every single one of them remembered. Even if he didn’t share the same memories, he was still the same man in the ways that mattered, and he thought that should be enough.
Though neither he nor Luke knew the Whitney girl personally, Bruce’s concern for Rachel naturally extended to her as well. “That’s understandable. The boy can’t afford to miss too much work on his side either, which is unfortunate. There’s only so much I can do for him without drawing suspicion.” Items could be carried over, he’d found, but it was still a risky process. He and Luke had managed well enough in terms of time spent between Gotham and Las Vegas so far, however, and part of him was disappointed to hear that Rachel might not be here as often as he would have liked. “Even if you’re not here often, I’m sure you can still manage to be effective,” he teased. Rachel was a capable lawyer, of that there was no doubt, and he was certain that even on limited time she could have an impact on Gotham.
While Bruce didn’t want her to think that he expected anything from her while she was staying in the Manor, he hardly wanted her to feel useless and idle either. “Alright,” he agreed carefully. “You know how hopeless I am at fixing up something for myself. If it wasn’t for Alfred, I might not remember to eat for days.”
Rachel knew in her heart that Bruce would still be somehow upset that he was disappointing these people - even if he really didn’t know them. Of course, she could just be projecting her own feelings on him, because she couldn’t even imagine a child she never knew showing up. What if in some other medium she and Harvey had a son... or a daughter? It would likely kill Bruce, and she wouldn’t know how to begin to react. “You are a good man, Bruce, and if they can’t accept this Bruce Wayne, well...it’s their loss, really.”
She stood on her toes and pecked him on the cheek and then looked toward the kitchens. “Soup and sandwiches alright? Considering I am not sure what else to cook. I can do something else for dinner.” She really just wanted some time alone to process everything, all of the emotions that were boiling under the surface about Harvey, about these other lives Bruce had. She was angry, sad, jealous, and most of all, she was hurting for all of the losses they saw at the hands of the Joker. It would take her time to move past the pain.
Bruce regarded her for a long moment, expressionless, before breaking out into a smile. In a strange way it was exactly what he needed to hear. Rachel was right in thinking that he was upset by his inability to be the man these people needed him to be, but she and Alfred were reminders that he wasn’t a complete disappointment to everyone in Gotham. “I doubt they feel the same, but thanks.”
The gesture was that of a friend for a friend, and he knew it was too much to hope for that things might be different between them now. Rachel had cared for Harvey, of course, and she would need time to deal with the loss. She’d said once that she would wait for him, but this Gotham was so much worse than the one he remembered. Bruce couldn’t see an end in sight, as much as he wished otherwise. “Soup and sandwiches are fine. You don’t--” He stopped himself before he could tell her that she didn’t have to make dinner as well. By then Alfred might have arrived, and he would likely have better luck. “You’re too good to me, Rachel,” he said instead, a hint of fondness creeping into his tone. A few seconds later he stepped back. “I’ll be working for the next little while, but I had intercom systems set up recently after Alfred became tired of taking the elevator up and down multiple times a day. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”