Gotham Nights, Part 5 (of ???)
by: C. Leuch
It was around 11 o’ clock when CJ and Bruce met up atop the building across from the police station. It had been a productive night for CJ so far. He had visited Catherine Willey’s apartment and thoroughly scanned it from afar, netting him information on her family, accounts, all aspects of her financial portfolio, communications, details on her jobs, and enough other little useful things to fill a small notebook. Then he had disguised himself and conducted interviews with the neighbors, though as far as they knew, they were just talking with a friendly co-worker of hers who was concerned about her safety. What he had managed to find out was that Ms. Willey was deep in debt, and might have been trying to find creative ways to raise money. She had apparently argued with a strange man a couple of times in the previous week, the arguments getting vicious enough that the neighbors had considered calling the police, although none actually had. She had a son and a daughter, and while the son had seemingly been gone for a few years, the daughter was a student at Gotham State. What CJ didn’t find in his searching, however, was any more red kryptonite, or any idea of who might want it and why.
Now CJ stared into the police station, making note of personnel and their locations, and quickly locating the necklace. Beside him, Bruce was dressed in a lab coat and slacks, a dark-colored wig on his head and products applied to tighten up the skin on his face seeming to take twenty years off his age.
“In addition to the Commissioner, there’s the overnight skeleton crew at the booking desk, and another couple cops around the building, one by the holding cell and another currently at her desk doing some paperwork. The basement is deserted,” CJ said.
“Does the morgue still have that old keypad lock?” Bruce asked, pulling open the lab coat and opening a pouch that contained several electronic gadgets. CJ had been trained on all those gadgets and what they did, though he found that he typically didn’t need such sophisticated methods to enter closed rooms.
CJ nodded in response to Bruce’s question. “Once you get inside, there are a series of filing cabinets on the far wall. The red K is in the third from the left, top drawer. There’s a rudimentary lock on the cabinet.”
“A three-year-old could pick that thing. In fact, Adam and I have been playing with sleight-of-hand…”
“You’re not… oh, nevermind,” CJ said, deciding that it was a discussion for another time.
“It’ll be a five minute job, tops,” Bruce said, closing the pouch and walking toward the stairwell. “I’ll let you know when I’m done.”
“Make it something audible,” CJ said to his retreating form. He wasn’t going to be watching Bruce work while talking with the commissioner – it would be too suspicious.
Bruce shot CJ a look, then pulled open the stairwell door and disappeared. CJ sighed and walked over to the edge of the roof, planning his course of action. There were enough cops around that he couldn’t exactly walk in the front door of the police station, but because it was, in fact, a police station, it meant that he wouldn’t be able to easily slip into one of the windows, either. The roof, though, was generally a good bet, and the lock on the stairwell door wasn’t exactly sophisticated. The police station was just a hair shorter than the building he currently found himself on, so one good leap should get him across the fairly narrow street right-of-way quickly. He waited until he saw Bruce on the street below before backing up to the opposite side of the roof, then took off at a flat-out sprint and launched himself into the air. He tried to soften the landing so as to retain some of the element of surprise, and used his momentum to carry himself quickly to the stairwell.
He pulled out a tool from his belt to pick the lock, then stopped with his hand on the door knob, closing his eyes and clearing his thoughts. Most of the time he didn’t have to say more than a couple of words to anyone when wearing the cowl, and now he would be carrying on a conversation with someone savvy enough to ferret out clues accidentally dropped or sense any dichotomy in his character that might lead to the truth. He couldn’t tease, he couldn’t speak in puns, he couldn’t make any quips; he had to be focused and serious, which didn’t come naturally to him at all. At times like this, he tried to cue up some death metal in his head to put him in the right mood, to ramp up his intensity, and chase away any levity. With a few deep breaths and a shake, he found himself focused, and proceeded into the police station, scanning the hallways as he went.
The police commissioner was a notorious night owl, and tonight was no different. He worked at a desk in his office facing the door, making it somewhat tricky to try and sneak in that way. CJ didn’t necessarily see the point in being stealthy about entering the office at this hour, though, especially since nobody was working immediately outside the office. Instead he opted for the bold approach, though he killed some of the lights on the way in order to maintain his shadowy image. Reaching the door, he flung it open, the breeze from the action causing his cape to flutter out, which made for the desired appearance. The commissioner looked up, startled, though his eyes narrowed and he turned back to his work once he caught sight of his guest.
“Batman,” he said in a businesslike tone, writing a few things down before returning his gaze to CJ. “I didn’t expect to see you around here anytime soon after what happened Saturday night. What was that, anyway?”
“Nostalgia,” CJ said in a gravelly voice. “A little reminder of what can happen to those who get sideways with the law, especially if I’m in a bad mood.”
“Yeah, well it was hell on my budget. You know how much overtime I had to pay out to clean up that mess? Next time you want to go on a rampage, how about giving me a heads up so I can try to change your mind.”
“It wasn’t exactly planned,” CJ conceded. “And that’s why I’m here. There was a body found Saturday night at the explosion west of downtown. Inside the body was a necklace, currently located in the evidence locker of your morgue. That necklace, while outwardly harmless, contains a stone that has…adverse affects on some people.”
“What kind of stone? What are you talking about?” the commissioner asked.
“It’s not important, just know that it’s dangerous. And I will be taking it off your hands tonight.”
“Now wait a second…” the commissioner said, but CJ held up a hand and took a step forward, standing up straighter, trying make his form more imposing.
“I will also personally be assisting in the investigation of the person who died to hide that necklace, whether you like it or not.”
The commissioner gave a humorless laugh. “So, what, you’re in charge of the place now? I have never complained about you offering a little free help around here to clean up the tough cases, but I draw the line at removal of evidence,” he said firmly, pushing his chair back and standing up. “You obviously have some sort of stake in the outcome of this one. Tell me, how can you possibly expect anyone to be prosecuted without it?” He narrowed his eyes. “Unless you are planning to take justice into your own hands.”
CJ allowed himself the barest of smiles. “If that were the case, then I wouldn’t bother helping you at all. You evidence is logged, it’s not like my actions will deny its existence. I am merely taking care of something that has the potential, in the wrong hands, to cause more destruction than you can imagine. And though I am sure that your officers have no idea what exactly is in their possession, I am equally confident that whoever was looking for that rock in the first place knows exactly what it is and where to find it, and has no qualms on doing whatever it takes to get it.”
The commissioner sighed and put his hands on the desk, looking down for a long moment before turning his attention back to Batman. “Okay, let’s cut through the crap and the high-minded excuses. This isn’t about the safety of my officers or vague notions of impending danger. This is about you. I’ve been watching you these last few years, following your actions, hearing about all you have done when you didn’t think anyone was watching. I know about the leaps off of skyscrapers, the fire rescues and feats of strength. I also can see how you have tried to conduct yourself with integrity in stark contrast with your predecessor. All this in combination with your concern about this rock tells me two things: that you are one of the Supermen, and that your show of force on Saturday was related to whatever that rock is.”
CJ crossed his arms over his chest and regarded the commissioner, pondering what to say next. This was far from the first time that he had stood in this office, discussing a case, though usually the discussions were rather one-sided and involved him dropping a bunch of evidence that would lead to a breakthrough in some high-profile case. There was no chit chat or exchanging of pleasantries, and CJ was under no illusions that theirs was anything other than a working relationship conducted at arm’s length. But he also knew better than to think that the commissioner didn’t control their interactions in his own way, or that he wouldn’t vet the man whole help he was unquestioningly accepting. Of course he knew that his computer systems were being tapped and exploited by Batman, but he made no move to correct the backdoor that allowed the access. And of course he controlled the conversation on what cases were pursued within the department, sometimes asking about cold cases for the express purpose of activating the files within the system, making it so that Batman could find them and work his own magic. This arrangement had a mutual benefit, and it served him well. But he wouldn’t be a man in his position if he relied blindly on information supplied by a man who hid behind a mask, so naturally he made it his business to find out as much about him as he could. It was hardly surprising then, CJ supposed, that he knew as much as he did. Absent the red kryptonite scare, he very well might have sat on that information for an infinite amount time, but tonight he put all the cards on the table, because tonight that knowledge mattered. Tonight, CJ’s familial relations made a difference in how he approached a case, and led him to demand something of the commissioner that he wouldn’t otherwise. The commissioner was savvy enough so see through the thin, though not untrue, excuses, and he made damn sure Batman knew it.
Now that the cat was out of the bag, CJ decided that he was probably best served by acknowledging the truth. That could best be done through demonstration, he decided, looking around the room, absorbing a hundred little details that no normal human should be able to know. “In your wallet is $52 in paper money – a twenty, three tens and two ones. One of the ones has a mustache drawn onto George Washington’s face and the word ‘savage’ written on it.” He tipped his head toward the commissioner’s desk. “You keep a gun in the top drawer of your desk, to your right, though curiously you don’t store the clip fully loaded. I would invite you to try your luck and take a shot at me, if I didn’t think it would bring too much unwanted attention.” He reached toward the small table beside him, picking up a piece of paper, regarding its contents, then squinting at it, causing it to burst into flames. A quick shot of cooling breath squelched the flames, though the point was made. As he looked back at the commissioner, CJ could see that he was a little wide-eyed at the demonstration of power, the latent knowledge of what he could do apparently a poor substitute for seeing it first hand. “I’m not trying to hide anything, and I don’t deny that Superman and I have a lot in common – I’m proud to call him my father.” CJ rubbed his thumb and forefinger over the ashes of the burnt paper, then brushed them across the raised stitching on his costume, making the S shield stand out against its black background. “I suppose you could say that I’m a Superman, if you want to use that word like a surname” he said. “But I am Batman. And I care about this city and the people in it.”
“And what did that rock do to you?”
Although CJ had made peace with his actions, he still felt a mild amount of fear at the ease in which the kryptonite short circuited his mind, and the possibilities of what could happen if he ever did come in contact with it again. He didn’t let that fear control his actions, but right now, in this moment, he grasped onto it, letting the intensity seep into his voice. “It took away my conscious mind,” he said. “All I know of my actions on that night are from what I’ve seen in news reports and remembered in dreams. I became a being of pure instinct, emanating the behavior that the wearer of this costume has long been known for, magnifying those actions with the power at my disposal. I was a monster, but it could’ve been far worse – nobody died by my hand that night. I can’t guarantee the same will be true if I’m ever exposed to it again.” He let silence settle over the room for a moment as the commissioner absorbed his words.
“This honestly isn’t about me,” CJ continued, gesturing at himself. “I suffer no lasting effects from exposure to that rock. This is about the safety of this entire city. The things I am capable of while under its influence…that damage might not be able to be undone. For all these reasons, that rock is going to disappear, and that is not negotiable.”
The commissioned nodded and sat down slowly. “Fine. I won’t stop you,” he said. After a moment, he raised his eyebrows and sighed. “Can you at least give me a little something to prove that you’re willing to cooperate in the investigation?”
“I have a name,” CJ said. “Catherine Schuster Willey, of Gotham City by way of Iowa and Kansas. I can tell you that her apartment shows no traces of any more of the offending rock, though there should be plenty of other information in there to get us started. And I can tell you that the building she was found in was some place that she had no business being.”
At that moment, the sound of an engine revving reverberated through the nearly empty streets outside the building. CJ turned toward the source of the sound, and saw a disguised Bruce on a motorcycle, holding up his hand. “It’s done,” he said conversationally, barely loud enough to be heard over the engine noise, then shot off into the night.
It was time for CJ to wind up his conversation, he decided. “You now know as much as I do. I’ll keep in touch,” he said, then nodded once and backed out of the office. He could hear the commissioner sigh as he left, and hid a small smile as he turned to look back in the room and saw him pulling out his wallet and checking to confirm what CJ had said was true. “I’ll be damned,” the commissioner muttered after finding the proof. Showing off had been fun, and if it had shown the commissioner that he could trust him, then it had been successful, too. Now it was time to really get down to work.
***
Laura sat under a tree outside the building that housed the student newspaper. She had been staring through the walls for about twenty minutes now, mostly just watching Matt work, trying to gather up the courage to do what needed to be done. She had also watched the comings and goings of other student writers, waiting until the time that Matt was alone, so they could talk with some semblance of privacy.
After CJ’s talk with her, she had forced herself to confront the tough questions. What did Matt mean to her? What did she want him to mean to her? He was her best friend, and she had to admit that her feelings for him had been growing deeper than that for some time. As much had she had been telling herself she wanted to stay platonic friends with him, her actions had betrayed that. They flirted with each other constantly, said affectionate things jokingly, went out of their way to see each other when they didn’t have to. They acted like they were dating, even though the subject had never been so much as uttered until their dinner the other night, a dinner that had been planned without being planned at all, an opportunity that had presented itself that she never would’ve bothered to pursue if she hadn’t been sure of what was going to come out of it. Sure, her conscious mind had tried to tell her that the dinner was just two friends hanging out in an oddly intimate way, but she had to admit that she would’ve been disappointed if the evening hadn’t ended with that kiss. So why did she retreat from him after it happened? Why was she so afraid to let him into her heart? Her talk with CJ had laid those answers bare. It was all about expectations, and fear of rejection. And, she decided, maybe it was time to stop being afraid and start being honest with herself, and with Matt.
With a deep breath, Laura stood and walked slowly toward the building, then into the office. She stopped briefly at her own desk to drop off her things, then made her way to Matt. Their desks were in different pods of cubicles, out of eyesight of each other, and his was situated so that he looked toward that back of the office, such that he wasn’t bothered by the comings and goings toward the front. It would be easy to sneak up on him, catch him off guard, so that he couldn’t run away from their impending conversation, but she was pretty sure he wouldn’t do that even if given the opportunity. Even if she had hurt his feelings that night, she seriously doubted he would greet her approach with anything less than a smile, and that thought gave her courage.
Laura slowly approached his desk from behind, slipping in next to him and leaning her hip against the desktop. It only took a moment for him to sense her presence, and when turned toward her, she could see that she had been right, though his smile seemed to be tinged with relief. “Hey,” she said, absently moving her hand up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
“Hi,” he answered softly.
“So, a funny thing happened the other night,” she said, pausing to look at him, feeling a little flutter in her stomach. She had spent so long running from her feelings, running from the truth, that saying it aloud seemed very scary all of a sudden. “I was having a really great homemade dinner with this guy, and we talked about all sorts of interesting things.”
“Oooh, sounds fun. Do I know this guy?” His expression was teasing, and she tried not to give him a look that expressed her mild annoyance at the question, though she was pretty sure that she failed. And that apparently just made him more amused. It was hard not to smile when he looked at her like that.
“You could practically be brothers,” she said, deciding to play along. “Anyway, apparently shepherd’s pie has some sort of aphrodisiac quality, because we found ourselves a little too close together on the sofa.”
“And by close together, you mean…?”
The blush rose in her cheeks. “Locked together in the type of kiss that would make romance writers stop and take notes.”
“Wow,” said Matt, playing it cool, though she could see that he was hanging on her words a little too closely.
“Yeah, wow. It was…,” she sighed contentedly, but then her smile started to fade, though she never broke eye contact with him. “But then I went and did something dumb.” Her hands started playing with each other, and she had to look away from him before she lost her nerve. “See, I’m the type of person who prides herself on being in control at all times. Control of what I do and when, control of who I am and what I believe. My emotions had always been just another one of those things that needed to be controlled – something that could be put in a box so they didn’t get in the way of what I thought was important in life. But apparently they had other ideas.”
“Emotions are funny that way,” Matt said.
Laura forced her hands apart, placing them behind her on his desk and leaning back. She sought his eyes again, then took a deep breath. “I felt things during that kiss, wonderful things, things that I can’t describe adequately without sounding totally sappy. And at some point I realized that I liked it, and maybe I wanted to feel more, and that made my conscious mind kinda…freak out. And I think maybe it came off as rejection, which I suppose it sort of was, but that was never my intention.” She opened her mouth to say more, but he had brought his hand up to cover hers, and he was smiling at her, understanding in his eyes. All of a sudden, a lump formed in her throat, and she found that further speech was rendered impossible.
“So you came to apologize, then?” he asked, coaxing her hand off the table so he could kiss it gently. She nodded mutely as the forbidden emotions began to bubble again beneath the surface. “I suppose I could forgive you, but…” he said, his smile becoming sly, his thumb now absently massaging her palm, “I might need some sort of demonstration of your seriousness.”
She gave a quick outrush of breath and a smile, realizing as she did so that it was the exact same reaction she saw so often from her dad. “I imagine you have something in mind?” she said.
He tried to act coy, but he seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face. “Well, we had a perfectly good non-date going there before civil war broke out between your heart and your head,” he said, and she couldn’t help but admire again how good he was at boiling things down to their essence. “I say that maybe we pick that up where we left off, starting with desserts and going from there.”
“That sounds nice,” she said softly.
“Then, maybe we can talk about doing the real thing. A real date, formal, fun, or otherwise.”
A few days ago, the prospect would’ve frightened her. Talking about dates, joking about proper dating etiquette, making fun of those hapless couples they saw out there having miserable or disastrous dates, that was all she had ever been willing to do, but actually experiencing one, opening herself up to the possibilities that came with one, that was not happening. But now, she was excited at the prospect. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
She wasn’t quite sure how long they stared contentedly at each other, but after a short time, he seemed to become aware of his computer screen, and the spell was broken. He let go of her hand, then pointed at the screen. “I, ah, have a deadline, unfortunately,” he said. “And this week alone I have a couple exams and a paper due.” He appeared to be disappointed, and she couldn’t blame him.
“Maybe this weekend? I mean, if you don’t have anything else planned,” she said, and he nodded. With a sigh, she took her weight off the desk and stepped away. “I look forward to it.”
“Impatiently?” he asked, and she just smiled.
“Hungrily. I love dessert,” she said, then turned from him and walked away, putting a little swing in her step that she knew he would appreciate. She could hear his breath catch in his throat, and she knew her mission had been accomplished. Grabbing her things from her desk, she exited the building and traversed the green.
It was as she was about halfway across that her phone began to ring. She wasn’t disappointed, exactly, to see that it was CJ, but if he was calling her now, there was likely only one thing it could be.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hi,” he said in that cheery voice he always used when he wanted something. “I need your help.”
---
Coincidence was a funny thing, Laura thought as she drummed her fingers on her table.
When CJ had called, his task for her had been to seek out and talk to another Gotham State student, the daughter of the dead woman found with a kryptonite necklace in her stomach. At a university of over 30,000 students, that seemed like a tall order – say she did manage to find her target, why would this person even want to talk to her? Of course, CJ had been one step ahead of her, locating her class schedule and reading it off to Laura. As he did, she briefly wondered if there was any piece of information on the planet that the computer in the Batcave couldn’t get to, but then she heard something that interrupted her musings. Apparently, the student and Laura actually had a class together, one of those giant lectures that it seemed like half the university attended. It was an amazing coincidence for sure, but one that made her job infinitely easier.
Laura took a seat near the door and looked around, locating her target, a sophomore named Anne Willey. Her hair was a little shorter than the picture that CJ had messaged her, but there was no mistaking the face. CJ had wanted her to wait to approach Anne until news of her mother’s death and identity were made public, and that particular item of information had been all over the evening news the night before. It was a bit surprising that Anne had even gone to classes today, given the circumstances, and she did look a little worse for the wear. But Laura wasn’t about to question her good luck on this day, and as the class came to a close, she rose and fell into step next to Anne when she came down the aisle past her.
“Anne? Anne Willey?” Laura said, holding open the lecture hall door. Anne looked at her skeptically, but Laura gave her most reassuring smile. “I’m Laura Kent. I just wanted to ask, and I’m sorry if I’m being too forward, but…was that your Mom that I heard about on the news?”
Anne’s eyes watered up a little bit, and she looked away and nodded wordlessly. “Oh, hey, I don’t mean to upset you. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry to hear about it, and to let you know that if you need anything at all, even just to talk, I’m available.”
Anne stared and the sidewalk and picked up her pace a little. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t even know you.”
Laura put her hand on Anne’s arm. “It’s just that I know what you’re going through. I lost someone close to me, too, not all that long ago – my brother. It was a plane crash, and it was…pretty rough.”
Anne stopped walking and looked at Laura. “Yeah?” she said, and Laura smiled sadly.
“Yeah, but I know it helped me a lot to talk about it.” Laura felt a little dirty, taking advantage of this poor girl’s emotions, but the words she spoke weren’t necessarily untrue, just maybe embellished a little. It wasn’t so bad then, she reasoned, and at least the intention was pure – she wanted to help find whoever it was that killed her mother.
Anne looked at her for a moment, seemingly indecisive then nodded once. “Yeah, I think talking would help,” she said with a weak smile, and gestured toward a bench off the walkway. Laura followed her, aware for the first time that she felt a little funny somehow. Not in a bad way, exactly, but…fuzzy, maybe. Like it was getting harder to keep her train of thought.
“Tell me about her,” Laura said as they sat down. “What was she like? Were you close?”
Anne proceeded to talk about her mother, describing some of their fun times and talking about what she would miss most. She asked Laura about her brother, and Laura gave a watered down version of the official story, interjecting some memories. “It’s strange how unreal it is,” Laura said, feeling a little lightheaded now. “They are there one day, and the next they’re gone, just like that, with no warning.”
“It’s strange you said that,” Anne said. “I get the feeling that my mom knew something was going to happen to her. The day before she died, she came to my apartment and gave me something.” She reached up and brushed her hair behind her ear, and Laura saw it, an earring, with a medium-sized red stone set in a silver teardrop. Laura’s eyes went wide with surprise as it dawned on her that the earring she was looking at was probably the twin to the necklace Anne’s mother swallowed. She was staring down a piece of red kryptonite, but somehow she didn’t feel alarmed. In fact, it almost seemed funny. “She gave me these,” Anne continued, oblivious to Laura’s reaction. “Told me that if anything happened to her, at least these were safe. They’re family heirlooms, you know.”
Laura swallowed hard, trying to push away a completely inappropriate desire to laugh hysterically, then nodded. “They’re…beautiful,” she said, her voice as steady as it could be under the circumstances. It occurred to her that maybe the earrings were causing her strange symptoms, and it might be best if she just left, even if a large part of herself was beginning to like the pleasant buzz that was beginning to envelop her consciousness. She tried to smile again, if only for the sake of appearances, then stood, staggering backward slightly as she got to her feet. “I, uh, I’m so sorry about your Mom. I hope they find whoever did that to her.”
Anne looked at her with confusion and concern. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Laura took a wobbly step back. “Fine, really, I just have to get to my next class.” With that, she raised her hand, turned, and walked as quickly as she could away. She had to contact CJ, the part of her brain that was still thinking rationally said, and she reached for her cell phone. But the other, larger, part of her brain that wasn’t thinking rationally at all pointed out that she had come face-to-face with red kryptonite, and was still conscious, and not in the mood to punch anyone or wipe out whole street gangs. In fact, she thought, lowering her cell phone, she felt fantastic. The sun shining down on her bathed her in warmth and happiness, and if she had been alone instead of in the middle of campus, she might have jumped into the sky and turned a few lazy loops. A mood like this was too good to be wasted talking to her brother about a case, or having him or any other family member fret over her. No, her current state of mind had to be shared with someone who could always make her smile, who always seemed to lift even her best moods.
Putting the cell phone back in her bag, she smiled and started to skip toward her apartment, not caring about the strange looks she was getting. She needed to give Matt a little demonstration of her feelings toward him, and she needed to do it now. Anyway, he also promised her dessert, and she had an idea of what to offer.
***
Matt stared blankly at his computer monitor, his mind churning over how to present the information he needed to type out, none of the dozen or so different ideas particularly willing to assert itself. This wasn’t a problem he generally had when typing up a story for the newspaper, because the news was at least interesting. This paper, however, was for a required elective that he found about as interesting as watching grass grow. In fact, he thought as he stared out the window toward a green space beyond, at this point the grass really was more exciting. With a frustrated sigh, he banged his forehead lightly against the table in front of the keyboard, but a knock on the door interrupted his misery.
He thought about ignoring the knocking, since he wasn’t expecting anyone and he had work to do, but at this point he figured a break might be the best thing to kick his creative juices into gear. “I’m coming,” he said, then stood and approached the door.
As he opened it, he saw Laura standing on the other side, wearing a lacy tank top and a pair of jean shorts that were entirely too skimpy. Normally she was a fairly conservative dresser, and more than once told him that she didn’t believe that a wardrobe should be the one thing that defines a person. That outfit could easily define her as…something other than the intelligent, thoughtful person that she usually was, and he found himself staring. It didn’t help that she had her weight shifted to one leg, the other crossed in front of it, her arm stretched up to brace against the doorframe. The stance was sultry and she knew it, judging by the expression on her face. He forced his eyes up to hers, and what he saw caught him off guard. Her pupils seemed a little too large, the intelligence that was usually burning in them seemed dulled. There was also a little too much makeup there, enhancing the appearance of impropriety.
“Hey there, handsome,” she said, then lunged toward him, her hands cupping his face, and before he knew it her lips had found his. At first he was completely shocked, but after a moment he found himself acquiescing, despite the vaguely unsettled feelings that were coming from his subconscious. The kiss was hungry, intense, and most definitely mutual. And although the situation very much resembled something out of one of the fantasies that ran through his mind on lonely nights – his scantily-clad dream girl rescuing him from a boring study session and showering him with affection – something about it just didn’t seem right. And he soon found himself breaking off the kiss.
Laura groaned and leaned into him, causing him to stagger backwards. He wrapped his arms around her out of instinct, which caused her to start giggling. “You’re happy to see me, right?” she asked. “Because you said the other day that you were looking forward to some…dessert. So I brought myself. You get to supply the chocolate sauce.” She giggled again, and Matt found himself at a loss for words. The person in front of him looked like Laura, sounded like Laura, but the Laura he knew wouldn’t act this way. The moment of passion that they had shared last weekend in her apartment had been brief, but she had been the one to cool things down. And while she had admitted that maybe she would like a chance to try it again, that was in no way a declaration that she wanted to skip straight to…dessert.
Matt gave her a nervous smile and dropped his arms, stepping away from her. “I AM happy to see you,” he said, “but I have to ask - are you feeling okay?” He tried to capture her eyes with his, but she didn’t seem to want to. Instead, she turned toward the bookcase in his living room and started inspecting the contents, dropping her purse by the door as she did.
“I feel absolutely fantastic,” she said, running her finger along the spines of his books. “Oooh, I didn’t know you read comic books. You know the most interesting thing about these books? The fact that most of those guys aren’t anything like the comics would have you believe in real life. I’ve met a bunch of them.”
Like so many of the things she said, he couldn’t tell if she was making an outrageous joke or giving some sort of commentary that went over his head. “You’ve met the Flash?” he asked, pointing to the book where her finger came to rest.
“Yeah. And his nephew, Kid Flash? Ugh, he’s obnoxious.” Her eyes went wide as she seemed to catch what she was saying, then her face contorted into a grimace and she turned toward him. “I think I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” she said, then shrugged. She turned to wander over and look at something else, but staggered slightly at the movement. After recovering, she started singing softly. Matt furrowed his brow and tried to capture a thought that was lurking in the recesses of his mind. Between the stumbling and uncharacteristic singing, along with the very slight slurring of her words, it almost seemed like she was drunk, though she didn’t have that smell around her that drunks usually did. At the very least, she wasn’t herself, and he was starting to become concerned. It wasn’t that he thought that she would harm herself or anyone else, but it was getting hard to predict what may happen next. He may need some backup, he thought, glancing at her purse. And her cell phone may provide the solution, along with a phone book full of names to contact if things got too bad.
“Is this your bedroom?” he heard her ask. “Your bed looks pretty cozy. I think I need to go see for myself.”
“It’s really not,” he said, then sighed. He looked back at the purse and pondered for a second, then quickly bent down and opened it, pulling out her cell phone and shoving it in his pocket. It was just in case of emergency, he told himself, and he could always put it back if nothing happened. Now he needed to get her far away from his bedroom, and any quickly turn her mind away from any notions of activities that happened there. Taking a few long strides down the hallway and stepping into the doorway, he saw that she had hastily made the bed, then climbed in. She now laid in his bed in a position that he would best describe as torturous, at least to him. She was on her side, her head propped in her hand, one of her shirt straps pushed off her shoulder and hanging against her arm, and her free hand tracing the pattern of the sheets. She smiled seductively as she saw him, and he had to remind himself to breathe. It also suddenly got very hard to form coherent thoughts.
“Two people can definitely fit comfortably over here,” she said, patting the mattress next to her. Without any conscious thought, Matt found himself moving toward her and sitting down in the spot indicated, and almost before he was fully seated, she had pushed herself up and was engaging him in another deep kiss. This was better than his fantasies, he decided as he found himself tumbling over on top of her. He had always imagined her as demure, shy, never one to make the first move, and when the time came to run the bases, as it were, he would have to coax her along and work hard to win her approval every step of the way. But now she was instigating things, she was in charge and had no qualms about pushing him further than he had ever been brave enough to even imagine. It was wonderful, glorious, a dream come true, and…completely wrong.
He planted his hands on the bed and pushed himself up, breaking the kiss. Her arms snaked around him and pulled him back toward her, and he indulged in one last kiss before forcing himself up again and out of her grip. “This is not right,” he panted, backing away from her.
“It sure feels right,” she said huskily, but he shook his head. Her expression morphed quickly, and suddenly it looked like she was about to cry. It made his heart want to shatter into a million pieces. “Don’t you want me?” she asked.
“More than you know,” he replied softly, his words seeming to chase away her impending tears. “But this just doesn’t seem like the right time. This should be something we earn, something that happens after we’ve actually gone on a real date and gotten to know each other. Otherwise we might end up regretting it, and that’s the last thing I want.” His words seemed to placate her for the time being, and he felt a massive sense of relief. But it was apparent now that he was going to need to call in the cavalry. She had a way of short circuiting his defenses, coaxing him to do things that he wouldn’t otherwise, and he was worried that he couldn’t fend her off if she tried to seduce him again.
He stood up and straightened his clothing, trying to keep his eyes averted from her lacy tank top with the drooping strap. “I have an idea,” he said, offering his hand to her. “Let’s go back out in the living room and start the right way, with a little appetizer. Put on some music, maybe something we can dance to…”
She seemed disappointed, but not unreceptive to the idea. “But we’ve never danced before,” she said hesitantly.
“What better time to start? Besides, I can’t think of anyone else I would rather do it with,” he replied with a smile. After a moment she took his hand, and he pulled her up to a standing position. They walked hand-in-hand back to the living room, and he led her to the couch area, picking up the remote on the way and turning on the stereo, which was currently tuned to his favorite radio station. His phone was sitting on the coffee table in front of them, and he unlocked it, bringing up the music player, then handed it to her. “Pick out a few songs you want to hear, and we can listen to those,” he said. “In the meantime, I’m going to go take care of something. Be right back.”
He kept a reassuring smile on his face until he turned the corner into the hallway, then proceeded to the bathroom, pulling her phone out of his pocket after closing the door. He seemed to recall that her brother-in-law was named Sam, and that he was the closest family that she had in town. He was a relative, but not an especially close one, not someone like her parents, who would surely not find her presence at his apartment to be humorous. He was older, but not too old, and probably close enough to college to remember some wild times had while ingesting not entirely legal substances. Or at least Matt hoped that was the case. Fortunately her phone wasn’t password protected, so he was able to access her contacts fairly easily, though he felt guilty doing it. Thumbing through the list, he only found one Sam that wasn’t a Samantha, though he had to blink a few times as he opened up the entry. The full name showed as Sam Wayne, who Matt assumed was the same Sam Wayne that was the son of billionaire businessman Bruce Wayne and local celebrity. THAT was her brother-in-law…squared? Maybe he just had the same name and was an entirely different Sam Wayne. Wayne was a common last name, right? With a shake of his head, he pushed the questions out of his head and dialed the cell phone number shown. It was answered after two rings.
“Laura, hey!” Sam Wayne said quickly, good humor in his voice. “Did you finish that job for me?”
Matt held his breath for a moment, closed his eyes, and spoke in a stage whisper. “Actually, uh, my name is Matt Owens and I’m a friend of Laura’s. I don’t have a lot of time, but…she’s not acting like herself. I think something’s wrong with her.”
“Wrong how?” Sam asked, all humor gone.
“It’s hard to explain. She acts drunk, like she’s not in control of her actions. But she’s also very, let’s say, amorous, and determined, and I’m doing my best to fend her off, but I don’t know how long I can keep it up. She’s very…persuasive.”
Sam Wayne exhaled quickly. “I believe that.”
“She’s mentioned your name before, and I was hoping you could come help. Please.”
“What’s your address?”
Matt told him, and Sam promised he would get there as soon as he could. He mentioned that he would be coming from downtown, so it might take a while, depending on traffic. Matt gave a sigh of relief and hung up the phone, though it meant that he would now have to go back out there and face Laura. He flushed the toilet to complete the ruse, just in case she was listening for it, then briefly ran the tap.
Returning to the living room, Laura was clicking intently through the list songs on his phone. “You have a very interesting collection of music,” she said.
“Thank you,” he replied, drawing a small smile from her in response. He picked up the stereo remote and changed the input, then gestured for his phone, added a few songs to the playlist, and started the music. “Music is one of those things that you can’t get too much of,” he said, putting the phone down and stepping toward her. “If you’re sad, the right song can cheer you up. If you’re worked up, it can mellow you out. It gives life context, colors your moods, opens your mind.” He gathered her up, intertwining one hand with hers and putting his other behind her back, swaying softly as the music came.
“It gives you a reason to be close to someone,” Laura chimed in, and he couldn’t argue that.
The song that was playing was a pop ballad that was a couple years old. It wasn’t his favorite song, probably because it had been overplayed on the radio at the time it came out, but it wasn’t a bad song either. In fact, he remembered it fondly, if only for one reason. “I like how a song can make you remember what you were doing the first time you heard it – where you were or how you felt.” He regarded her. “Where were you when you first heard this?”
She seemed thoughtful for a moment, then looked toward him, her eyes far away. “I was driving up here from Metropolis before starting classes freshman year. It was playing on the radio as I passed through a big stretch of nothingness on the interstate, watching cows and horses pass by. I remember being excited and scared at the same time, because I had no idea what the future held.”
They danced in silence for a few long moments before Matt spoke. “It was after I came back from summer break but before classes started. I was hanging out with friends, partying a little while I still could, and this came on. I remember the one image that came to my mind the first time I heard it. I had only met you once at that point…actually, I think I hadn’t even spoken to you yet, but this made me think of you. I don’t know why.”
“Because I’m awesome,” Laura said, and he laughed gently. The banter continued as the song played, then another couple of the same vintage, and Matt found himself inserting questions into their conversation to try to help him understand how she came to be at his apartment in the state she was in. What did she do today? Who did she meet? Where did she go? If she caught on to his questioning, she didn’t show it, but she also didn’t give him any information that would solve the puzzle. Eventually the song changed again, this time to the soulful tones of Ray Charles’ ‘Georgia.’
“I was at a wedding the first time I heard this one,” Matt said, bringing back their earlier conversation. “I was the awkward teenager in ill-fitting clothes, too old to hang out with the kids but too young to enjoy the open bar with the adults. It was my cousin getting married, and we never really visited with that branch of the family much prior to that, or really since then, either. I wasn’t having a good time, but I thought this song was fantastic.”
Laura was leaning into him more heavily now, the music apparently having an affect on her. It also occurred to Matt that she might be entering the sleepy phase of drunkenness, but that seemed to fade as she started speaking. “My mom always had a thing for the jazz and blues standards – Frank Sinatra, Billie Holiday…Ray Charles fit the bill, too. She would sing their songs around the house when she was working, when she didn’t think anyone was watching, or just to calm us down. So I knew this song from when I was too young to know what music was. But the first time I really heard this arrangement I was probably 5 or so, and I snuck out of bed one night. When I got to the living room, this was playing over the stereo, and my folks were dancing, not unlike we are now.” She adjusted her arm behind his back and sighed. “My parents were always very close, very affectionate, but this was different. You could see it on their faces – in that moment they were two people completely and utterly in love. It gave me such a warm feeling, made me want more than anything to be able to have someone feel that way about me at least once in my life.”
He gathered her tighter, almost protectively. Sometimes the truth came out when your defenses were down. He wanted to give her a bold declaration that he would be that person for her, but now was not the time for that, not with the state that she was currently in. It was still a sweet story, though, and he let it hang over them as the music continued. Eventually her head found its way to his shoulder, and he couldn’t resist putting his cheek on her forehead, breathing in the gentle scent of her shampoo. He didn’t know whether to thank or curse whatever caused her ailment – thank it for making this moment possible, or curse it for possibly showing him everything he couldn’t have. Almost-dating didn’t offer any guarantees, only possibilities, and it was still possible that she wouldn’t be interested in him after getting a good look. He may never actually get the chance to get this close again, but he vowed to do everything in his control to try, and that was all he could do. That, and just be a friend, the type of friend that didn’t take advantage of her when she was vulnerable.
The music changed again, this time to a Van Morrison song, and he made a mental note of time. If it took twenty minutes to get between his apartment and downtown, her brother-in-law should be getting close. “I think I like this song,” Laura said, her voice starting to become heavy.
“I don’t have an interesting story for this one,” Matt said. “I think I picked up this CD at the library and listened to it for the first time while reading.”
“Well, this is my first time hearing it,” Laura said, bringing her head up, a surprised smile slowly spreading across her lips. “You will be my memory of this song.”
“I sure hope so,” he said softly, and couldn’t resist kissing her lightly.
She chuckled gently, then put her head back on his shoulder and they danced wordlessly for a few minutes while the song played behind them. “You are the most romantic person I’ve ever met, Matt Owens,” she said, before letting out a yawn.
“Your parents sound pretty romantic,” he said, deflecting the compliment that he didn’t think he deserved.
“Well now you’re just ruining it,” she muttered, and he smiled. Almost before she finished her sentence, there was a knocking at the door.
Laura lifted her head up again, turned toward the door and squinted perceptibly. “CJ? What are you doing here?” she asked, then raised her eyebrows. “Don’t give me that look,” she said, a little of her usual fire finally making n appearance. Confused, Matt followed her gaze to try and figure out what she was saying or who she was talking to, but there was only the door. “What?” she said, then looked quickly between Matt and the door a couple times, then recognition of some sort seemed to dawn on her. “Ohhhhh,” she said softly, then turned toward Matt, a very exaggerated expression of calm on her face. “You should probably see who’s at the door,” she said. Matt could only look at her for a moment, not sure what to make of this particular act, but then decided that he probably shouldn’t keep whoever it was waiting any longer.
Laura trailed closely behind him as he made his way to the door. Opening it, he saw a man, a couple inches shorter than himself, dressed in a white button-up shirt and tie, although the tie was tucked into his shirt between the second and third buttons, and the shirt sleeves were rolled up. His hair was styled neatly, and on his face were a pair of glasses. He appeared to be a few years older than Laura, though, oddly, he also looked a lot like her. And he looked familiar in a way that Matt couldn’t quite put his finger on. He was smiling gently, which seemed like a perfectly natural expression for him, though Matt could see a little concern there, too.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Sam.”
“My brother-in-law,” Laura said quickly, almost too loudly. “Who I never met before coming to Gotham City and wouldn’t know at all if he hadn’t married my sister-in-law.”
Sam cringed and brought his fingers up to rub his temples. “Uh, I’m Matt. Please, come on in,” Matt answered, stepping aside to let his guest by. Sam dropped his hand and gave an expression that tried to come off as friendly, though he mostly just seemed embarrassed. It was a charming look on him, Matt thought, but Sam seemed like the type of person who could be charming in about any situation. For his part, Matt was aware that Laura’s hand was still in his, and he caught Sam regarding them curiously.
“So, SAM, why are you here?” Laura asked, her voice indicating that she wasn’t overly pleased to have a visitor.
“Actually, I called him here,” Matt said, pulling her cell phone out of his pocket and handing it to her. “I was concerned about you. I mean, you have to admit, you’re not acting like yourself this afternoon.”
She seemed hurt, and he couldn’t blame her. “I thought you said that you liked having me around,” she said to him, her voice small.
He grabbed their clasped hands with his free hand. “I do,” he said. “You make life interesting, that’s for sure.” That coaxed a little smile back onto her face. “But, you, ah, have an effect on me that I can’t entirely control. And I thought it would be good to bring Sam here over before we did something that we regretted.”
“Which is entirely sensible,” Sam interjected, though Laura seemed to ignore him.
Laura put her hand on Matt’s chest. “Are you saying I’m a bad influence?” she asked slyly.
Matt arched an eyebrow. “That is exactly what I’m saying.” She giggled a little at that.
Sam cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “Laura, I think maybe we should go back to the house, maybe let Matt here get back to…whatever he was doing when you showed up.”
“Writing a paper,” Matt chipped in, releasing Laura’s hand. “It’s due tomorrow and I’m seriously behind.”
“See, he’s a busy guy,” Sam said, gesturing toward Matt, and Laura just rolled her eyes.
“Fine,” she said. She gave a long look back at Matt, then leaned over to pick up her purse. “We’ll always have ‘Tupelo Honey,’” she said, and he nodded.
“It’ll be our song,” he answered.
“Why don’t you come with us out to the car,” she said, bringing an audible sigh from Sam. Matt nodded, and together they exited the apartment. They walked in relative silence until they reached the stairwell.
“So, Sam,” Matt said, trailing the other two down the steps. “Laura never told me that your last name was Wayne. Are you the same Sam Wayne that’s been on the news lately?”
“That’s me,” he said evenly.
“As in, son of billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne?”
“Yup,” Sam said. This time it was Laura’s turn to sigh.
“This is why I never tell anyone,” she said, looking over her shoulder toward Matt. “People get all star struck around minor celebrities. He’s just my dumb brother.”
“In-law,” Sam said.
“I’m not star-struck, it’s just interesting, that’s all,” Matt said. “He probably has a lot of fascinating stories to tell.”
“Well actually,” Laura said, and Sam elbowed her. “Ow! What’s with you assaulting me?”
Sam shoved his hands in his pockets. “You’re getting your payback later. But I reserve the right to nullify the deal if you don’t behave.” His voice was almost teasing, and Matt watched, fascinated, as Laura lightly nudged him. They actually did act like honest-to-God siblings. Observing them side-by-side also reinforced his initial thought that there was a decent resemblance between them.
After a moment they reached the door to the exterior and exited, making a beeline for a white Jaguar sitting in the corner of the lot. It was a statement car that spoke to the wealth of the owner, but it wasn’t overly ostentatious. It was the type of car that he would imagine Sam Wayne driving. “Nice,” Matt said, and Sam shrugged.
“If I wanted to really impress…well, there’s a garage full of much more interesting cars back home.” Sam looked back toward Matt with a twinkle in his eye. “But I don’t like to brag.”
“Lies!” Laura said, opening the door. She looked back at Matt and put a hand up. “Have fun studying. Come see me when you’re done.”
“Okay,” Matt said, then watched as Sam Wayne and Laura Kent drove off together, waiting until the car was out of sight before making his way back to his apartment. He sat down at his computer and attempted to get back down to work, but too many thoughts were going through his head. Laura and her actions would live in his dreams for a long time, he was sure, but what was really occupying his mind was Sam Wayne. It finally occurred to Matt why his face looked so familiar, and it wasn’t because it was plastered all over the news, because he really wasn’t. Sam Wayne might have been mentioned by name a few times, and there were several articles about him in prominent magazines, but Matt wasn’t sure that he had actually seen a picture of his face before. But he’d seen pictures of Laura’s dead brother more than once, on the banner at the stadium and in photographs at her parents’ house. His hair was a lot shorter in those, his face unobscured by glasses, but if Matt closed his eyes and brought up those images, they sure matched the face of the man he met today.
As he stared at the blinking cursor in the word processing program on his computer, Matt knew that he wouldn’t be able to do any work unless he confirmed his suspicions. It felt wrong, he thought as he brought up a search engine and typed Sam Wayne’s name into it. This was Laura’s family, and he trusted her implicitly. But if Matt’s suspicions were true, it also meant that this man held a secret, something that could have wide-ranging implications, something that could be a story that every journalist in town would kill to know. Educating himself using information available to anyone with an internet connection was hardly a betrayal of Laura’s friendship; that would only come if Matt did something with whatever knowledge he ended up acquiring, and he had no intention of doing that.
The search engine returned a host of news articles and coverage that Matt was familiar with. There weren’t many photos of Mr. Wayne available, which was curious, and those that were mostly came from tabloids or were somewhat blurry. Matt was mostly interested in his biography, though – where did he grow up? Go to school? What was in his past? The answer was, nobody really knew. Sam Wayne was a person who only really showed up three years earlier, whose past was alluded to by anecdotes from interviews, but without anything concrete that connected him to his life before meeting Bruce Wayne. A meeting that just so happened to occur at almost the exact same time an airplane crashed into the ocean between Metropolis and Gotham.
In a separate window, Matt opened up another search engine and typed in the name of Laura’s brother, S. Clark Kent. Immediately a host of articles about the plane crash came up. There was even a passenger manifest for the flight, available as an acrobat file, with his name among the other passengers. One hit that came back was for a YouTube video of him proposing to his girlfriend at a football game, taken from some ESPN highlights from around 5 years earlier. Matt clicked on the link and watched the video, fascinated. There were plenty of sports articles from his days as a football player, mentioning some of his feats and accolades. And because of his status as a division one athlete, there were plenty of pictures of him available, mostly from the media guides or university marketing that came out during his playing days. Sam Wayne and CJ Kent shared the same smile, Matt noticed as he went through the photos and watched the video. Their eyes and face shape were the same, too. It didn’t take a genius to see that, though it probably wouldn’t be something that anyone would notice just by doing an internet search, not unless they had also personally met Sam Wayne. He really was Laura’s brother, her actual, not-dead brother. So…what did that mean?
Matt leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling, a thousand thoughts surging through his brain. If Laura’s brother wasn’t dead, then why deceive everyone into thinking he was someone else? And, backing up a bit, why was his name on a list of passengers for a plane that he obviously never got onto? Was he trying to cover up for or run from some sort of crime? Was he trying to pull something over on Gotham? Whatever it was, Laura’s whole family had to be in on it, as did Bruce Wayne. Matt couldn’t imagine any scenario where someone like Bruce Wayne would willingly sign over his inheritance to some sort of con artist. Something wasn’t right about this. He had to be missing something.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, something else occurred to him. They lived in a world of superheroes, indestructible beings who did the impossible every day. Laura, someone who was apparently in on Sam Wayne’s deception, had also been ambivalent about the fact that superheroes were people, just like everyone else. They had to do something, go somewhere when they weren’t saving the world. If you removed the gaudy outfits and ostentatious powers, they really didn’t look any different from anyone else. They could be anybody, live anywhere, and if the misdirection were good enough, nobody would have any idea. What if…?
Matt opened a third browser window and brought up the search engine. He stared at the screen, tapping his fingers on the desk a few times, then took a deep breath and positioned his fingers over the keyboard, typing ‘Superman’ into the prompt. After a moment, a host of articles and images popped up. If he filtered through the noise relating to the movie and the comic books, he could get right down to the real photographs, and what he saw made him gasp. Superman didn’t necessarily bear much resemblance to Laura’s brother on his own, but bringing up photos that also had Ultra Woman, seeing the two of them together, made the likeness unmistakable. But there was something else, too. Closing his eyes and bringing up her face, he realized that Laura also bore a striking resemblance to the famous hero. There was only one answer to all his questions, and it was staring him right there in the face.
