log: bruce wayne & talia al ghul summary. [December 1996] After the attack by the League of Assassins on Gotham City, Ra's al Ghul is presumed dead after his fight with Batman. For her own reasons, Talia al Ghul breaks into the penthouse apartment of one Bruce Wayne months after her father's 'death,' claiming to have information that he needs.
Talia. Standing in front of the window - a glass wall from floor to ceiling, overlooking Gotham City -- Talia al Ghul tried not to think about the reasons that led her to her current situation. It was her first time in Gotham, and it would be memorable, for all the wrong reasons. She'd come here out of guilt, and out of respect. Some things were simply too important than could be discussed over the phone. Some things were personal.
She could hear the soft footfalls as she stood staring out, past her own reflection in the glass, to the city below. This was his home, and she was an invader, an unexpected and unwanted guest. And she doubted he would have agreed to see her at all had she given him warning. He wouldn't be happy to find her in his home, in his bedroom of all places, but it would be the least of his issues with her at this point. She tried to hold onto the happier memories they had, if only to steel herself against the expected attack.
He came into view, his reflection drawing her attention back into the present, and she rubbed one hand absently across her face, wiping away the unwanted wetness in her eyes. She was a member of the League of Assassins, she would not let emotions rule her. She turned, facing him. Facing Bruce. Even in the dim light she could see that he had changed, his face harder, and his posture stiff and guarded. She opened her mouth to say something -- anything -- but the words died on her lips and she could only watch him.
Bruce. Bruce Wayne had detected the break-in downstairs in his temporary 'batcave' -- it was the reason he was standing here. He was never really one to enjoy the comforts that living in luxury allowed him. He had grown accustomed to sleeping on harder mats and mattresses over his training. He has a cot set-up downstairs for that reason, so that he may always be on alert when things go awry in his city. This bedroom was for show, for the women he paraded around and the philandering persona he hid behind. He only really slept up here when Alfred forced him from his cot.
His eyes were locked on Talia, his jaw steeled. Part of him always wondered what had become of her after Ra's al Ghul's attack on Gotham months ago. Ra's al Ghul's attempt to destroy Gotham introduced Bruce to the full capabilities of the League of Shadows. As time passed, though, the memories he shared with Talia began to sour and he grew bitter at the thought of her. The exposition of Henri Ducard as the real Ra's al Ghul sunk in after his death, twisting in Bruce's gut. He thought about Talia, quickly drawing to the conclusion that she had to have been in on her father's plan. He had thought himself childish for getting even remotely carried away with Talia back in Bhutan. But no matter how much he tried to put her out of his mind, she was there -- and that pissed him off even more.
His feet firmly planted across the room, he watched her carefully. He was never sure if she would try to make contact -- he was just surprised to find her here, in his temporary home after her father burned down Bruce's real one. Bruce's expression was blank except the slight edge of his glare. He has no sympathy for her tears and strongly doubted her sincerity -- yet he was seemingly holding himself back from flying off the handle and attacking her. Bruce, quite frankly, wanted to throw her out the window. He only entertained the thought for a long moment before speaking. "What are you doing here," he demanded in an even, low tone.
Talia. She knew that tone -- she had used it on more than one occasion herself -- and knew the tightly coiled anger behind, twisted so tight that at any moment it was likely to snap and send Bruce into a fury. For the first time she wondered whether she'd stop him; self-preservation or not, she wondered if she really did deserve his hatred, just like she wondered whether she'd ever deserved her father's wrath. She couldn't help who she was; neither could anyone else. Allowing emotions to control this situation -- regret, grief, anger -- would not resolve any of the issues they were presented with. They'd only end up in injury, or worse.
She felt her face still, an almost involuntary action, as she faced him without reproach. She knew she could plead ignorance of her father's plans to attack Gotham City -- while she had suspected something similar, her father had, as ever, been far more calculating than she gave him credit for: he had never told her, knowing she might have told Bruce, before he was read. His lack of trust in her was not a first, nor was it disconcerting, but it wouldn't save her from Bruce's anger, and she would not use it as such. "I don't think you'd believe me if I said I was sorry for my father's actions, and I'm not quite so foolish to believe I can change your mind, either," she replied evenly, crossing her arms across her chest. She was not afraid of him. "I came here with information I think you should have," she told him, "but only you can choose to receive it."
Bruce. He was careful (and it was easy) to show no regard for Talia, which came easily as he stepped further into the room. Even tense, Bruce's movements was very calculated. His eyes had to look away from her, however, to subside the wrench in his gut. He focused on Gotham's skyline past her, his arms stiff at his sides. She was right -- he wouldn't be able to accept an apology from her. He thought about her offer silently, as his eyes ran over the buildings through the window. While he might not accept an apology, information could be different -- if it was something he wanted to know. "What kind of information," he said, partly wondering out loud. His eyes glance over at her. This better be good.
Talia. Talia didn't move, but her eyes tracked Bruce as he moved further inside the room. He avoided her gaze, and that sparked a tiny ray of hope -- hope that she quelled as quickly as she felt it. "Information about Ra's al Ghul," she replied, "and the League of Shadows." She unfolded her arms, letting them hang loosely by her sides. He still avoided her eyes, even though she was practically daring him to meet her own gaze, unashamedly watching him. "He's very much alive." News, which she was aware, that contradicted Bruce's knowledge.
Bruce. The muscles in his neck tightened. His mind reeled over the events not so long ago -- Ra's al Ghul appearing at Wayne Manor and burning it to the ground, the airborne hallucinogen wreaking havoc on Mercey Island, and leaving Ra's al Ghul on the derailed train car plummeting toward Gotham. Had he been mistaken to think Ra's al Ghul dead? It wouldn't be the first time that he was fooled when it came to Ra's al Ghul's death. He inhaled sharply. "...What do you mean he's alive?"
Talia. She straightened, standing her full height. She hadn't come here to play word games with Bruce; her statement had been clear enough. "Alive. Living and breathing, and walking around." She arched an eyebrow. "I believe you might know the feeling." She walked across the room, to Bruce's right, heels clicking softly against the floor. She had her back half-turned to him, her show of defiance against his anger now. Regardless of what he might say to the contrary, she had his attention. "I want to tell you a story, the way it was told to me when I was a child," she spoke, still facing away from him. "It will sound like a fairytale, a legend. Something that can't possibly be true." She remembered the first time she'd been told the story of her father's life -- not by the man himself, no, he never spoke of it to her -- and how she'd woken up from nightmares covered in sweat from the tale. Her father, the oldest man alive. The most dangerous.
She turned to face Bruce. "It's a story about a man who discovered immortality and has lived hundreds of years, and died many times. His birth name is lost to time, and now he is known as Ra's al Ghul -- the Demon's Head, and leader of the League of Shadows." She looked away from him, pausing a moment before she continued.
Bruce. A bitter laugh of disbelief escaped Bruce -- sorry, but this was ridiculous. "Talia," he stopped her, saying her name for the first time in a long time -- probably since he last saw her in Bhutan. "You cannot expect me to believe this." If she came her just to yank his chain, he'd rather her leave.
Talia. "I expect you to believe what you want to believe," she told him, coldly. He'd done it before, trusting the apparent Henri Ducard in Bhutan and believing in him and training with him, without suspecting anything. "The fact remains that over three hundred years ago my father researched and uncovered an anomaly called the Lazarus Pits, and used it to extend his life. He then found more and more of these Pits, using them as required to spread his legend and continue his quest. The result is the man you knew as Henri Ducard."
Talia looked out at the window, out at the city skyline. "After you left my father to die," she told him, her voice devoid of bitterness or anger, "the League of Shadows called me to return and to take his body to be restored." Before he had the right to rebuke her, she added, voice vehement, "Because I am a soldier of the League, and I must follow orders. Because it was my duty." The duty of a daughter, however disrespected.
Bruce. Talia touched a sore spot. Even if he felt justified at the time to let Ra's al Ghul die a fiery death, the act (and the whole situation) made Bruce contemplate what he was doing in Gotham. Was it the right thing, to let a man -- no matter how evil -- die? Bruce was still figuring out what it meant to be Batman, to keep the streets of Gotham safe -- and while he committed to not using lethal force, he was at odds with leaving the bad guys to die without due process. He wouldn't admit to regretting leaving Ra's al Ghul on that train car, partly because he was not sure he did. But the more he thought about it, there was some sense of relief that Ra's al Ghul hadn't died. It meant that maybe Bruce didn't cross a line he shouldn't have.
The edge of his anger began to wear away though his guard remained. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said pointedly. Whether he meant carrying her father from death to these Lazarus Pits or being forced to carry out the duties of the League of Shadows.
Talia. She raised an eyebrow at his comment, wondering for a moment if he was being sarcastic. Her shoulders rolled back in a dismissive shrug. "You should also know he won't be coming back to Gotham any time soon, at least as far as I have been told. Apparently your alter-ego has made quite the impression." Talia herself had been keeping up to date with Bruce's extra-curricular activities, and had wondered why his decision to dress as a giant bat didn't have her questioning his sanity. It struck her as being a very Bruce idea.
Bruce. There was a whole spiel about why he chose bats. Mostly to conquer his own fear of them and instill that fear in others -- that was the short of it. He nodded lightly, taking in this information. He wanted to ask other questions -- like where he was now, that state of the League... all those kinds of questions. But he wasn't sure he wanted to know them from her. The Lazarus Pit information will take some time to digest, as well as Ra's al Ghul's years. "So, Talia. Tell me. How old are you? One hundred? More?" If her father was centuries old as she claimed, it was natural to assume she herself was older than she seemed.
Talia. "Didn't anyone ever teach you that it's impolite to a woman her age?" she asked primly. His stance was less strained, and that gave her the briefest moment of relief. His question did not truly offend her -- far from it -- but the implication that she was over a hundred years old... She couldn't help but laugh. Out loud. "You think that you are talking to history?" The corner of her lips twitched up in an amused smirk. "Though I hate to disappoint you, you still out number me in years. I confess that I'm not yet twenty-five years of age."
Bruce. Bruce turned to look at her, turning away from the window. While he wasn't amused as she was at this moment, it did release some tension to hear her speak like this. "It's hardly a disappointment," he stated, even if she was teasing him. But in a lighter tone, he continued. "Though I was going to ask you for your beauty secrets." If she was over a hundred years old, she sure looked ... well preserved.
Talia. And for a moment, Talia truly believed he had lost his mind. "Trade secret," she told him, "and I don't know enough about Wayne Enterprises to release a secret like that into your hands." If she hadn't been kidding, she might have also pointed out that she would have patented it herself and made money out of it, just like any other self-respecting businesswoman. She wasn't about to share. Particularly when she could remember a time when Bruce had not wanted to discuss his family business. "The Lazarus Pits are not to be taken lightly, Bruce," she told him more seriously. "They change those who enter them, and not for the better."
Bruce. Maybe Wayne Cosmetics could do a lot with Talia's trade secrets. She didn't know. There might have even been a contract that cut Talia a nice percentage. He took a few steps toward her, serious. "Is that what happened to your father? It changed him?" Bruce wondered if the brief tales Henri Ducard had told him in Bhutan were true or another ruse.
Talia. She shrugged, not moving. "So they say," she told him simply. "I've only known him as long as I've been alive, and he's only used the Pits twice, including this last time, during that period." She smiled ruefully. "He's harsher straight afterwards, until he recovers himself."
Bruce. Bruce nodded, glancing away at an amusing thought. "That must be pleasant," he remarked, keeping the smirk at bay. He remembered how harsh Ra's was during his time with the League of Shadows. Bruce can only imagine what he was like after leaving one of these Lazarus Pits.
Talia. Rather than follow Bruce's amusement, his words only caused her to frown. It was easy for him to joke about it, but he'd never been there, and she knew the full extent to which Ra's al Ghul was capable, something Bruce had not yet seen. "Hardly," Talia replied tersely, very much not amused.
Bruce. Bruce fell quiet for a moment, watching her carefully. "Is that all you came here for? To tell me about your father?"
Talia. This time it was Talia who refused to meet his eyes, turning her head away and taking her time to answer. It wasn't the only reason -- she'd missed Bruce, and felt guilty ever since she'd found out what had happened. She had come to apologise also, but she didn't want that apology rejected and so would keep it to herself. Just like her feelings. But she wasn't going to continue lying, either. "No," she admitted. "But I suppose that is the most important thing you should know."
Bruce. His eyes stayed on her before he looked back out at the skyline. He nodded slowly as he thought back over what she has told him. Even if she told him only about Ra's al Ghul, it would be a lot to take in. He wasn't going to pry into why else she came here if she decided not to be forthcoming. He moved away from her and took a few steps toward the windows. "If that's all, then might I suggest using the front door as your way out rather than the way you came in." His eyes scanned the architecture of Gotham.
Talia. He passed her, moving towards the windows, and his words made her feel cold. He would have seen her brief nod in the reflection of the windows, although she didn't speak. She crossed the floor to the doorway he had entered from silently. "I'll send you what information I have on the Lazarus Pits," she told him. "I'm sure it's information Batman could use." Later on, if not now. She contemplated what she was about to say, even though it hurt to even think it. She thought it would be what he wanted, though, and she wouldn't deny him anything now. "You won't see me again," she murmured quietly, voice still audible in the silence.
Bruce. He tilted his head to listen to her as he faced the window. A knot tightened in his chest and he looked back out the window. "Talia..." he trailed off, not sure he wanted to stop her or say goodbye. Perhaps it was for the best.
Talia. She hesitated, but he didn't say anything else, and that itself spoke volumes. She'd imagined many ways that this evening would have ended, and this wasn't surprising. Just... disappointing. Talia drew in a breath, and managed a small, forced, smile. "Goodbye, Bruce." She turned, and made her way to leave.
Bruce. He wasn't sure what else to say. He did not want to lead her on when he had so much to think about and was not sure where he stood on any of it. He deliberated over whether or not to stop her and decided on the latter. He continued to stand at the window, listening for her departure.