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seldearFANDOM: Justice League
TITLE: Trinity: Remixed
SUMMARY: A 'What If?' of DC's Trinity.
RATING: PG-13
CATEGORY: drama, a little action-adventure, some UST, and a big dose of 'What If?'
NOTES: And the final story for the Twelve Days of Fic-Mas is so long, it takes two posts. Strangeness. Oddness. Weirdness. Really.
Dedicated to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
allisnow because she is evil and got me into JL. *prods*
On the twelfth day of Fic-mas, my LJ friend gave me:
Twelve Lords a-leaping, (JL)
Trinity: Remixed - Part One
-- Lois --
Tonight had been a perfectly good charity ball until the bandits interrupted it.
In the Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel, the guests mingled amidst the opulence of chandeliers and fine food, famous faces and beautiful piano music.
"I'm amazed that they got Tia Taijie in to play," Lois Lane muttered at her partner for the evening as she juggled purse and champagne glass. "I heard she was booked out until the New Year. Ms. Prinze must have pulled no end of strings to get her here tonight."
"Ms. Prinze seems to have a lot of strings to pull," came the sardonic reply. "As would anyone with the money and power she wields."
Having worked out how she could hold both purse and champagne glass and still have a hand free to take up the dainty pastries being circulated through the room, Lois gave her companion a sharply slanting look from beneath dark lashes. "As if you can talk about money and power, Bruce!"
"Are you referring to Wayne Enterprises?"
"Actually," she said smoothly, "I'm referring to your franchise of go-go clubs running from New York to New Orleans!" Lois rolled her eyes. "What else would I be referring to?"
He shrugged and didn't answer.
Lois scowled. "You're a very powerful man, Bruce, simply through your controlling interest in Wayne Enterprises."
"I don't use it for anything," he murmured, and nodded briefly at a couple he recognised - some of Gotham's more prestigious society. They eyed Lois, who smiled and nodded and gritted her teeth against the same old rumours that inevitably resurfaced after one of her appearances on the arm of Bruce Wayne.
"That," she said in a conversational tone, "is the most outrageous lie I have ever heard anyone utter with a straight face."
One corner of the full mouth quirked slightly in sardonic amusement. "Well, maybe just a little."
They passed a group talking about a recent snatch-and-grab attempt from a museum in Gotham. "...nothing taken. The thieves were found handcuffed to one of the exits, babbling about the guy who stopped the heist."
"Was it that Crusader fellow?"
"Apparently. The description matches..."
The voices faded as they moved past the speakers and across the room. Lois frowned a little. "What do you make of that?"
"Hmm?" Bruce had vagued out again. "Oh, the Crusader guy." He shrugged. "Seems to be doing a decent job cleaning up Gotham. Well," he corrected wryly, "as much as Gotham can be cleaned up."
"Such faith in your fair city," Lois murmured as they approached a couple they knew. "You're a cynic, Bruce."
"You wound me, Lois. And if I'm a cynic, what are you?" He regarded her archly.
"A realist," she muttered sotto voce a moment before they reached the couple. When he shot her a slightly irritated look, she smiled sweetly at him. She loved annoying him. It was one of the best things about these fundraising evenings: the chance to needle Bruce where he had to put on a polite face for Gotham's fine society.
The couple they had stopped to talk with were vaguely familiar to Lois, who usually had very little to do with such fundraising activities. Socialising and smoothing things over was Bruce's area of expertise - he was a master at the fine art of calming nerves and soothing emotions.
It was more Lois' nature to ruffle things up and make things uncomfortable. And she did it well. As a reporter for the Gotham Daily, she even got paid for it - with sometimes entertaining results. Oh, there were no Pulitzers on the horizon yet, although she had a story in mind that might give her a shot at the Holy Grail of her writing. If she could only get the subject to participate!
She wasn't fully paying attention to the conversation. Instead, she was absently noting who was present, who was speaking to whom and whom she had to collar before the night was out. These were Gotham's wealthiest and finest citizens, the bejewelled denizens of the city's highest social strata. They were also the CEOs and businessmen of some of the biggest companies based on the east coast. Where there was big business, there was also big news, and where there was big news to be found, Lois was the one looking into it.
Lois was always on the job, even when she was saving Bruce from the hordes of slavering Gotham socialites, most of whom were yearning for the chance to get the glasses off Dr. Wayne and find out if the doctor's hands really were as skilled as rumour had it.
Judging from the prickling of her nape, there were several women here who were glaring at her with gazes that should have been able to punch through raw steel. Lois grinned at a joke made by the gentleman as Bruce made a cunning reply and entered the conversation in the break after the laughter died.
"There are so many people here tonight." There. She had contributed to the perpetuation of the conversation, however insipid her offering. Bruce arched a brow at her and she returned him a smooth smile.
"There are far more people here than we expected!" The woman looked around the room, evidently pleased with the turnout. "I wonder if they got wind of--" She broke off and glanced briefly at Lois and Bruce, then around the room before she leaned over and lowered her voice. "Lady Diana sent an invite to Superman."
Lois blinked. That took some guts to do. Superman, while well known and much admired, was not usually a guest at these events. "I thought he tended to avoid charity functions because of the paparazzi."
"Wouldn't you?" Bruce asked Lois dryly.
"You're asking the wrong person, Bruce," she replied with asperity, ignoring the slight churning feeling in her stomach at the thought of Superman coming here, tonight. "The only reporters who ever hounded me were the ones who wanted me to comment on something you did because they thought I'd have an inside angle!"
Never mind that she knew very little of the things Bruce did that made the media. As far as some of the more stupid gossip columnists were concerned, her proximity to Bruce Wayne meant she should know everything about what he did in his business and his practise, to say nothing of his personal habits.
"It's always my fault," Bruce said, adopting the air of a beleaguered man.
"Most of the time, it is," Lois replied and saw his eyes twinkle with amusement at her sharpness and changed the topic before he could get his own retort in. "So, do you know if Superman will come?" She knew that Bruce gave her a hard look and ignored it.
"He told Ms. Prinze 'yes,'" the man said. "And the donations started pouring in! Our original goal was one fifty thousand dollars, but we're already halfway there, so Ms. Prinze suggested we raise the bar to one hundred thousand."
"And she promised to match every dollar raised with fifty cents of her own," his wife added.
"A very generous offering," Bruce observed, and cocked a sly smile at Lois. "I might have to consider giving Ms. Prinze a run for her money."
Lois fought the urge to groan. When Bruce's competitive instincts came out, it was best to stand back. In that, he was a lot like her, but where his background was money and privilege, hers was a middle-class upbringing. She opened her mouth to say something sharp and teasing, but was interrupted by a voice as suave and sleek as velvet.
"Please do, Dr. Wayne," Lady Diana Prinze said as she swiped a glass of champagne from a passing waiter with a brief smile for the man. Lois noted the tide of scarlet that rose up over the white collar of the waiter's shirt, infusing his neck with a rosy glow. The Lady continued smoothly, unaware of the havoc she'd caused with her smile. "It would be lovely to have some competition."
As if anyone could compete against you, Lois thought, somewhat uncharitably. If ever one person had been given an excess of gifts and talents, it would have to be the Lady Diana Prinze. Apart from the obvious blessings of beauty, status, and wealth, she was formidably intelligent, very personable, and quite charming.
Tonight, she was charming in a deep blue dress that brought out the colour of her eyes - the intense blue of a Mediterranean sky - and wearing a collar of sapphires set in silver. Lois felt positively dowdy beside her - and this gown was the nicest one she owned.
"As if anyone could compete against you," said the charity director, echoing Lois' thoughts with overdone gallantry.
"It's lovely of you to say so," Ms. Prinze commented. "Although quite untrue." She stated it matter-of-factly, sparing neither her modesty nor her admirer's. Her eyes rested on Bruce with a mischievous twinkle in them. "Dr. Wayne is well capable of competing against me in the donation stakes. And doubtless many other stakes as well. I hear the Wayne Enterprises research on stem cells is nearing its completion, Dr. Wayne?"
Bruce shifted. If he was surprised that a socialite knew of the status of his most recent research project, he evinced no surprise. "We've reached the goals we set out to achieve, Ms. Prinze," he said simply. Give him a chance and he would warm to this topic, but for the moment, he was diffident. "We're looking into an extension, but our backers are not as willing to support further research in this area. We'll bring them around."
Ms. Prinze's gaze flickered to Lois for a moment, arching one delicate brow, and Lois rolled her eyes and grinned. "He means he'll bring them around," she said.
"I have no doubt he will," the other woman said with a sultry look at Bruce.
Lois was honest enough to admit that she was relieved the socialite had at least one weak spot. All manner of handsome men could be found in her company, and God knew, Bruce was handsome enough to drive any woman to distraction. Or obsession.
Did it say something about Lois that the distraction he drove her to was not the kind most people thought was between them? Probably. She'd learned not to care about the gossip many years ago. The death threats were another matter, but she had learned a thing or a dozen through her years of knowing Bruce and wasn't afraid to use them where necessary.
"I'm not sure if you're complimenting me or mocking me, Ms. Prinze," Bruce said lightly, but with a very direct look. If he was aware of the socialite's interest, he was no less polite, trusting in her good manners to ensure that no lines were crossed.
"You need to ask?" Dark lashes fluttered teasingly.
"I'm afraid to," came the retort.
The casual 'salute' she gave him was both respectful and mocking, and she turned to Lois, about to make a comment when her eyes widened as she saw someone over Lois' shoulder. "Oh, he's here! Please excuse me!"
A moment later Ms. Prinze was holding out her hand to the man who had paused at the edge of the balcony doors. A moment later, Lois had turned on her heel, drawn to his magnetic north like sensitised steel.
"Oh, my God," said the director's wife faintly, unable to take her eyes from the man who was bowing over Ms. Prinze's hand with an elegance that would have done a prince proud. "I can't believe he came!"
"I don't think many people thought he would," the director was saying.
"I didn't think he would," Bruce murmured dryly.
Lois barely heard them. She was watching Superman.
She'd only met him a couple of times, but each time had been...breathtaking. A part of her felt ashamed of admiring him so intensely - from what she'd heard, he had quite a fan club - and, indeed, the response to him could be seen all around the room.
Women were staring, blatant envy in their eyes as they watched Ms. Prinze smile and laugh and flirt with their latest guest. The guest himself seemed inclined to an easy friendliness towards his hostess, chatting in a personable manner. Rumour had it, he'd been brought up on an island of warriors - some unheard of, uncharted island in the Bermuda Triangle - although how anything could be uncharted in this day and age was a mystery to Lois.
And Ms. Prinze was bringing him over to their small group.
Her fingers twitched with the urge to run her fingers through her hair and make sure she looked properly groomed. Lois forced the urge away. She was not going to primp and simper like some stupid society bimbo just because a handsome man looked her way.
Beside her, she felt Bruce lean across her slightly to murmur, "Good girl."
She bristled at him, causing him to take a step back and bring his hands up in wry defence against her.
"...must meet a few people, Superman."
"Please," he said in a light, clear tenor. "Call me Kal El."
Lois felt uncharitably jealous of the society belle. It seemed that even legendary superheroes had their Achilles' heel, but how sad to find that Superman's was the smile of a beautiful woman. Still, she viciously kicked her brain into gear as Ms. Prinze introduced him to the director and his wife and took the moment to study him.
He seemed as neatly groomed as always, but not urbane, the way Bruce managed to look. There was a simplicity about him that Bruce would never have in a million years. It wasn't quite innocence, more of an uncomplicated ease that would avoid making things more difficult than they needed to be.
Usually clad in a very colourful costume of blue and red, tonight, he was dressed for a formal evening. The suit looked expensive, and familiarity with Bruce's dress habits forced Lois to admit that it probably was expensive. It would have been tailor-made to fit perfectly across broad shoulders and deep chest, giving him an air of calm formality. Or maybe that was just his manner, the air of royalty that clung to him like the sound of trumpets heralding his presence.
Frankly, Lois didn't care. Recognition was dawning on his face as Ms. Prinze began the introductions, and he interrupted the woman with the start of a smile for his rudeness before turning the full force of that easy, honest pleasure on Lois.
"Miss Lane, I believe?" Superman said, taking her hand and covering it with one of his own. "We meet again."
The touch of his hand sent tingles up her arm and down her spine. The room might as well have been empty but for him and her - she certainly didn't have the faintest idea if Bruce was laughing at her behind her back - although he probably was. If so, she didn't care. She was talking to Superman. And he remembered her name!
"Under less dramatic circumstances than the last time," Lois said. A part of her that wasn't dizzy over his attention was screaming at her. She suspected it was trying to tell her not to look like a simpering idiot. She had an awful feeling it was failing.
"You know of my colleague, don't you? Dr. Bruce Wayne?"
Superman turned his gaze towards Bruce and inclined his head. "I've heard of Dr. Wayne by reputation only, I'm afraid," he said. "Although the reports are one and all excellent. You're doing good work, both in that clinic of yours and at Wayne Enterprises."
"You're very kind, Superman," Bruce replied, "if mistaken. I have little to do with Wayne Enterprises."
"The name would suggest otherwise," Ms. Prinze murmured, just loud enough for both men to hear.
Lois barely held back a giggle at the woman's gentle dig at Bruce's modesty. Superman gave both women a hard look but only said, "As Ms. Prinze has indicated, your part in keeping Wayne Enterprises an open corporation is not exactly a secret. And has earned you the enmity of Lex Luthor."
She felt Bruce tense, for all that her hand was still firmly in Superman's, and barely held back a flinch herself. Still, for all that, Bruce's answer was easy.
"It doesn't take a lot to earn Luthor's enmity," he said. "All you have to do is show him up a couple of times and he'll hate you for life." He grinned, a touch of the devil in his smile. "I can show you if you like."
Superman stared for a moment, before he seemed to realise it was a joke and grinned back.
A moment later, the world splintered and shattered around their ears.
-- Crusader --
Luthor aside, Bruce had been more than ready to corner the Man of Steel in an attempt to acquire the opportunity to study the unusual physiology of the Kryptonian.
Then the windows crashed inward under the weight and force of armoured men.
Even as people screamed and fled, Bruce had pressed a button on his wristwatch that sent a tiny signal to Alfred, down in the limousine. If he could find an exit, he could turn into Crusader in less than a minute.
He didn't have even a minute.
There were guns trained on the now-panicked crowds. Guns, but no bullets - not yet.
In the meantime, there was a moving blur of black tuxedo and white shirt that had already take care of two of the men, impervious to the bullets that bounced off his skin.
Bruce had to admit, it was a very dramatic save on Superman's part.
But even more dramatic was the move the theives took to stop him.
Bruce saw the side of the muzzle of the gun swinging towards him, and allowed it to knock him backwards. A certain clumsiness acted in his favour as a disguise. Disguise was good.
The gun muzzles that now pointed at Lois and Ms. Prinze were not.
"Hey, Superman!" The bandit yelled, his voice hard and cold. "Are your girlfriends bulletproof?"
As threats went, it was a highly effective one.
Superman froze, the strong muscles of his neck and throat standing out as he willed himself to stillness for the sake of the bystanders. Sprawled inelegantly on the floor, at one level, Bruce was impressed with the ingenuity of the men. On the other hand, that ingenuity had neutralised their biggest threat, which was not quite as impressive - from Bruce's point of view, anyway.
"Ladies and gentlemen," spoke one of the men. "We hope you've been having a lovely night!"
He seemed standard for most of the intruders, dressed in green army-like fatigues with a flak jacket, balaclava, and a semi-automatic weapon - one of the older AK-47s. Bruce noted the spare sidearms that several of the men wore, and briefly wondered if he could reach one, then abandoned the thought of heroics as long as they had so many men and so many hostages.
The spokesperson continued, dry irony in his voice as he added to his greeting. "We're going to make this simple for you rich, fancy folks. Hand over your jewels and valubles and you won't get hurt!"
With a sigh, Ms Prinze collapsed on the floor.
Bruce barely managed to catch her before she hit her head. He lunged up from the floor and promtly found himself with an armful of fainted socialite.
Due to his training, his mind tended to remember fragments of scenes in peculiar montages. His senses would later pull up the memory of her scent, the feel of her skin, and the colour of her dress. Jasmine, velvet, royal blue... His senses would also recall the calibre of the guns, the limp of the leader, the military gait of several of the men. Coolly, his mind catalogued all this information away. There was significant organisation behind tonight, this hadn't been planned this afternoon.
Lois was pale and worried, but not unduly frightened as the men stripped her of her jewellery and purse, tossing them into a sack each man pulled from beneath his flak jacket. The gun held against her head kept Superman tense but quiescent.
But at this moment, all that came secondary.
The first thought in his mind was that Ms. Prinze wasn't breathing.
There was an order to the world. Bruce felt it in his bones. He'd become a doctor in honour of his father's life. He'd become a vigilante in search of justice for his father's death. The two were a balance that he'd struggled with all his life.
He wasn't so sure he'd found it, even now.
Crusader should be in here, showing these men who owned this city, who claimed it - protected it.
Dr. Bruce Wayne only knew that there was a woman here who needed his medical expertise.
The doctor won. Thieves can be tracked down, but dead is dead. Not much of a choice at all.
Frantically, Bruce checked for a pulse and sighed in relief as he found it. At least he wouldn't have to initiate CPR. His jacket was yanked off with more speed than skill to give him greater freedom of movement. A handgun was cocked at his head and he could feel the tension in the trigger-finger, mere millimetres from splattering his brains out across the white-gold rug.
"What are you doing?"
Another man might have frozen. Bruce did not. "She's not breathing," he said, checking her mouth without looking up at the man who held the weapon on him. "I'm a doctor, I'm helping. You're already up for theft and endangerment. Do you really want to add murder to your rap sheet?"
There was a silence from the man, and Bruce brushed a finger across the fine plane of the cheek and checked her pulse again. Still strong, but her chest wasn't moving.
She wasn't breathing.
"Get his wallet off him!" Someone else yelled. "Don't worry about the bitch!"
He pointed at the discarded jacket without looking away from his patient. "Wallet's in there." Not that he carried much to these events. Chequebook. ID. Credit card. The rest was left with Alfred down in the limo. Unnecessary.
Vaguely, he was aware of a chance in the tension of the room. Then there was the sound of steady gunfire and renewed screams. A moment later Lois flung herself down to the floor beside him, "Is she okay?"
Bruce hardly noticed.
His eyes were on her face, on the rich beauty so still and unmoving, and he tilted her head back and began resuscitation techniques. Breathe, count four, breathe, count four, breathe count four...
She wasn't breathing.
Beyond him, there were cries and the sounds of fists hitting flesh. A woman's voice rang through the room above his head, cool, commanding tones that bordered on the familiar - if his mind could only stop long enough process it. He stored the familiarity for a time when he wasn't attending to his patient and cataloguing other tiny bits and pieces about the situation.
A moment later, a second pair of fists joined the fray, and he could hear the alarm and panic through the room - as well as the subtle shift of dynamics. The intruders were on the defensive now, taken by surprise.
But she wasn't breathing.
Damn you, woman, he thought angrily as he continued resuscitation. Breathe!
He could keep this up for only a little longer, then someone else would have to take over. In the meantime, she wasn't getting as much oxygen as her brain usually needed. Oh, there'd be enough to keep her alive, but not much else.
She wasn't breathing.
In the background, he could hear Lois gabbling into a cellphone - she'd had the presence of mind to call the ambulance. Alfred would have sent an alarm to the Gotham City Police the instant he received the signal from Bruce.
That was the way things usually worked in Gotham. Crusader took care of the problem, and the GCPD got the criminal they wanted.
The GCPD would be on their way by now, but Ms. Prinze needed an ambulance.
In the meantime, she had Bruce working over her.
And the stupid woman still wasn't breathing!
"The ambulance is on their way." Lois glanced up, "And the police have just arrived..."
The sounds of fighting had stopped. There was no gunfire. Superman was speaking to someone. The GCPD had arrived on the scene.
Ms. Prinze wasn't breathing.
"Injuries?" Bruce didn't look up from the socialite. Even unconscious, the woman was exquisitely beautiful. Now if she'd only be exquisitely beautiful and breathing!
"One man is dead," she said, pale and tight. Lois wasn't the fainting-flower type. "A couple of bruises where people got smacked around when they resisted the gunmen taking their stuff. A bullet wound, but Hank O'Malley is on him."
Hank was a good doctor. One less thing for Bruce to worry about anyway.
"Superman?" He was surprised she hadn't yet said anything about Superman. Lois, for all her aspirations to being a modern, independent woman, had fallen for the Kryptonian from day one.
"Imprisoning the last of the thieves with Lady Night."
That startled him as few things did. Bruce paused in his resuscitation and looked up, startled. "Lady Night?" Abruptly he recalled himself and returned his attention to Diana.
"She arrived after Ms. Prinze fainted," Lois said. "They're..."
"Is there anything I can do?"
Bruce barely looked up at Superman's request, mentally counting to another four as he said. "If you can get her to a hospital in the next thirty seconds, then, yes." He bent to breathe into her again.
And this time, as his lips lifted from hers, she moved under him, trying to inhale and exhale all at once. The result wasn't pretty. She choked as her reflexes demanded she drag air into her lungs and yet expel whatever it was had gotten caught in her throat.
Still, there was no way to describe the relief Bruce felt as he sat back on his haunches and began waving people away. It rushed through his veins, as intoxicating as any drug, as triumphal as any primal cry. He had fought death and pushed it back for one more day.
A fight worth fighting for.
Now, he'd have a harder battle on his hands: crowd control and giving a socialite advice.
"Ladies and gentlemen, step back. Give her air to breathe." He watched the blue eyes open, and had a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she sat up coughing and wheezing. "It's okay, Ms. Prinze. Everything's fine." Charity Director Kennedy was still hovering anxiously so Bruce addressed him, polite, but firm. "Would you get Ms. Prinze a glass of water?"
It was one way to make the man stop hovering.
She coughed a few moments more, sounding oddly forced, before she drew in a long, steady breath and exhaled clearly. "Are they gone?"
Bruce kept his hand on her shoulder. "Yes," he said, with an authority he didn't have.
Technically, he didn't know that the bandits were gone, but he trusted Superman and Lady Night. If those two were cleaning up, they'd have done a fairly thorough job.
That didn't mean he wasn't going to have a talk with them both about jurisdiction and his city. Never mind that he hadn't been able to stop these thieves, they should have known better. Besides, Crusader had a reputation to keep in Gotham and among his team-mates of the League. "They're gone." As she sat up, he put on his best 'authoritative doctor' voice. "Take it easy there. You stopped breathing for a couple of minutes."
One black-gloved hand waved him away, but she accepted the glass of water with a smile for the director before she looked back at Bruce. "Don't fuss, Dr. Wayne," she said lightly. "I'm fine. Just a fainting spell, nothing to be worried about."
"A fainting spell during which you stopped breathing for several minutes," Bruce said, careful to rein in his irritation.
She'd taken a gulp of water while he spoke, her eyes fixed on his face in a very disconcerting manner. It gave the impression she was listening very hard to his words, though Bruce considered it highly unlikely that she'd pay heed to anything he said.
He was right.
"Dr. Wayne," she said, in a coaxing voice that made him want to gnash his teeth, "it should be quite obvious that, unconscious or not-breathing, I'm fine. Better than fine, in fact."
"You should listen to your doctor, Diana," Superman said, looking away from where he'd been speaking with Lois.
Oh, so it's 'Diana' is it? Not that the intervention did all that much. She only came back with the retort: "Sadly, he's not my doctor, Superman." The arch look that accompanied such sentiments was aimed squarely at Bruce, and he ignored the brief syncopated thud of his heart. He was a single man, not a dead one.
"If I was your doctor, you would be obeying my directions," Bruce said somewhat dryly. He was well aware that he was playing into her hands with his comment, but sometimes that was the easiest way to deal with a woman.
Lois didn't quite sigh, but he could see the roll of her eyes from where she stood as Ms. Prinze answered, "So I guess you like being in control, hmm?" The gleam in the socialite's eyes was positively wicked as she regarded him, and he flushed. His complexion was beyond his control, even if he had a sharp rein on his thoughts a moment later.
He didn't bother to hide the flush. It would add to his image of a woman-oblivious work-obsessed doctor. "Ms. Prinze," he said with the manner of someone trying to keep a derailed topic on the straight-and-narrow, "When the paramedics arrive, I'd like you to go with them. You should have a couple of tests performed, just to be sure that everything is fine..."
"Oh, that shouldn't be necessary, surely?"
"I'd strongly advise it..."
"But I don't have to if I don't want to, do I?"
She certainly had her cajoling down pat. Bruce sighed. "No, you don't have to, but Ms. Prinze, you were unconscious for..."
"Thank you," she said, and now there was the hint of stubbornness in her voice. "But no. I'm quite fine, Dr. Wayne, I assure you. No more help needed." Then she smiled a little. "Unless you're going to be helping me up from the floor."
Bruce recognised a lost cause when he saw one. Not so Superman.
"Ms. Prinze, I don't think you should be dismissing Dr. Wayne's opinions so lightly."
"Oh, Superman," she said with a laugh as the Man of Steel helped her back onto her feet, "Dr. Wayne has my utmost respect as a practitioner of medicine, but I feel fine." Her hand rested on the muscled bicep for balance a few moments longer than necessary, and Bruce bit back the surge of irritation that washed over him at the woman's careless dismissal of her situation. Several minutes with minimal oxygen to the brain was nothing to sniff at.
Still, he wasn't so rank an innocent as to show such irritation on his face. To the rest of the world, his expression was rueful and exasperated as Lois hauled him to his feet. "You're okay?" He asked her with a quick glance over her to confirm it for himself, even as he also took in the rest of the room in his peripheral vision.
A dozen bodies lay prone on the floor, most being hauled up and handcuffed even as he watched.
The GCPD were giving the matter their full attention - not that they had much choice with Gotham's wealthiest and most powerful in the room.
Superman went to speak with them, excusing himself, and escorting Ms. Prinze over so she could give the detectives a bit of information about the guests - or just so she could break a few more hearts. Bruce was feeling quite disgruntled after having his medical opinion so summarily dismissed.
A glance around the room showed most guests had found chairs. Not a few were looking very distressed. Those were most usually surrounded by friends and acquaintances who were saying things in soothing tones. One sensible servitor had found a tray of champagne and was passing it around to steady the nerves of any guests who felt they needed something to drink.
Personally, Bruce felt that a double whiskey on the rocks would have been more than welcome.
A man had died in the theft attempt. His tablecloth-covered body lay in a spreading stain of scarlet. Across the room, the dead man's wife was sitting in a chair having hysterics as another woman held her hands and spoke to her. Bruce's hearing didn't reach that far, but judging from what he could read of her lips, she had already begun counselling the bereaved woman.
He saw Hank O'Malley, kneeling down beside a man, glancing around in assessment of the situation. Their eyes met and meshed, and Hank gave him a quick nod to show that things were under control for the moment.
Bruce turned his attention back to Lois, who was answering the question he'd first asked.
"I'm fine," she said, more irritated than scared. "I handed over my stuff, nice and polite and they promptly ignored me. Other than the shock of having a gun stuck to my head..." She heaved a deep sigh, looking out across the floor where the Gotham Police Department had arrived and were taking charge of the situation.
"What did they take?" Bruce asked.
"Mostly personal stuff," she told him. "Purses, wallets, jewellery. They were halfway through when Lady Night appeared." Lois shook her head. "One minute, there was nothing, the next, she'd slipped out of the shadows and was in the middle of it all. She got four of them down before they realised what was going on. Then Superman joined her, and between them they got most of them."
"Most? Some escaped?" Bruce arched a brow. Something in him was pleased. Tracking them down would be Crusader's task later tonight.
After he had a word with Superman and Lady Night. They'd done good work, but Crusader did have a reputation to keep. And Gotham was his city, after all.
"Only a handful." The pretty bow lips twisted in sudden frustration. "But the ones that did took my Palm Pilot! I had my notes for tomorrow's articles all written up on it!"
In spite of everything that had happened tonight, Bruce found himself with the urge to throw back his head and laugh. Lois was incorrigible. He took her elbow and gently steered her towards the tables where enterprising waiters were pouring glasses of alcohol as fast as they could.
Across the function room, Ms. Prinze was charming Commissioner Gordon with that smile.
"I could do with a drink," Bruce said. "I think we're going to be here a while."
He could wait an hour or two before starting on the hunt for these men. They hadn't been mere thieves, that was for sure - there was too much organisation here, even for one of the gangster groups that Gotham bred like rabbits.
Organisation left papertrails, and papertrails led to criminals.
And when Crusader found the criminals...
Well, that was for later.
*
Trinity: Remixed - Part Two
*
eleven ladies dancing, (SG-1)
ten pipers piping, (Firefly)
nine drummers drumming, (JL)
eight maids a-milking, (HP)
seven swans a-swimming, (SG-1)
six geese a-laying, (Angel)
five gold rings! (SG-1)
Four calling birds, (HP)
three french hens, (Firefly)
two turtle doves, (SG-1)
and a partridge in a pear tree! (JL)
Here endeth the Twelve Days of Fic-Mas 2004!
TITLE: Trinity: Remixed
SUMMARY: A 'What If?' of DC's Trinity.
RATING: PG-13
CATEGORY: drama, a little action-adventure, some UST, and a big dose of 'What If?'
NOTES: And the final story for the Twelve Days of Fic-Mas is so long, it takes two posts. Strangeness. Oddness. Weirdness. Really.
Dedicated to
allisnow because she is evil and got me into JL. *prods*Twelve Lords a-leaping, (JL)
Trinity: Remixed - Part One
-- Lois --
Tonight had been a perfectly good charity ball until the bandits interrupted it.
In the Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel, the guests mingled amidst the opulence of chandeliers and fine food, famous faces and beautiful piano music.
"I'm amazed that they got Tia Taijie in to play," Lois Lane muttered at her partner for the evening as she juggled purse and champagne glass. "I heard she was booked out until the New Year. Ms. Prinze must have pulled no end of strings to get her here tonight."
"Ms. Prinze seems to have a lot of strings to pull," came the sardonic reply. "As would anyone with the money and power she wields."
Having worked out how she could hold both purse and champagne glass and still have a hand free to take up the dainty pastries being circulated through the room, Lois gave her companion a sharply slanting look from beneath dark lashes. "As if you can talk about money and power, Bruce!"
"Are you referring to Wayne Enterprises?"
"Actually," she said smoothly, "I'm referring to your franchise of go-go clubs running from New York to New Orleans!" Lois rolled her eyes. "What else would I be referring to?"
He shrugged and didn't answer.
Lois scowled. "You're a very powerful man, Bruce, simply through your controlling interest in Wayne Enterprises."
"I don't use it for anything," he murmured, and nodded briefly at a couple he recognised - some of Gotham's more prestigious society. They eyed Lois, who smiled and nodded and gritted her teeth against the same old rumours that inevitably resurfaced after one of her appearances on the arm of Bruce Wayne.
"That," she said in a conversational tone, "is the most outrageous lie I have ever heard anyone utter with a straight face."
One corner of the full mouth quirked slightly in sardonic amusement. "Well, maybe just a little."
They passed a group talking about a recent snatch-and-grab attempt from a museum in Gotham. "...nothing taken. The thieves were found handcuffed to one of the exits, babbling about the guy who stopped the heist."
"Was it that Crusader fellow?"
"Apparently. The description matches..."
The voices faded as they moved past the speakers and across the room. Lois frowned a little. "What do you make of that?"
"Hmm?" Bruce had vagued out again. "Oh, the Crusader guy." He shrugged. "Seems to be doing a decent job cleaning up Gotham. Well," he corrected wryly, "as much as Gotham can be cleaned up."
"Such faith in your fair city," Lois murmured as they approached a couple they knew. "You're a cynic, Bruce."
"You wound me, Lois. And if I'm a cynic, what are you?" He regarded her archly.
"A realist," she muttered sotto voce a moment before they reached the couple. When he shot her a slightly irritated look, she smiled sweetly at him. She loved annoying him. It was one of the best things about these fundraising evenings: the chance to needle Bruce where he had to put on a polite face for Gotham's fine society.
The couple they had stopped to talk with were vaguely familiar to Lois, who usually had very little to do with such fundraising activities. Socialising and smoothing things over was Bruce's area of expertise - he was a master at the fine art of calming nerves and soothing emotions.
It was more Lois' nature to ruffle things up and make things uncomfortable. And she did it well. As a reporter for the Gotham Daily, she even got paid for it - with sometimes entertaining results. Oh, there were no Pulitzers on the horizon yet, although she had a story in mind that might give her a shot at the Holy Grail of her writing. If she could only get the subject to participate!
She wasn't fully paying attention to the conversation. Instead, she was absently noting who was present, who was speaking to whom and whom she had to collar before the night was out. These were Gotham's wealthiest and finest citizens, the bejewelled denizens of the city's highest social strata. They were also the CEOs and businessmen of some of the biggest companies based on the east coast. Where there was big business, there was also big news, and where there was big news to be found, Lois was the one looking into it.
Lois was always on the job, even when she was saving Bruce from the hordes of slavering Gotham socialites, most of whom were yearning for the chance to get the glasses off Dr. Wayne and find out if the doctor's hands really were as skilled as rumour had it.
Judging from the prickling of her nape, there were several women here who were glaring at her with gazes that should have been able to punch through raw steel. Lois grinned at a joke made by the gentleman as Bruce made a cunning reply and entered the conversation in the break after the laughter died.
"There are so many people here tonight." There. She had contributed to the perpetuation of the conversation, however insipid her offering. Bruce arched a brow at her and she returned him a smooth smile.
"There are far more people here than we expected!" The woman looked around the room, evidently pleased with the turnout. "I wonder if they got wind of--" She broke off and glanced briefly at Lois and Bruce, then around the room before she leaned over and lowered her voice. "Lady Diana sent an invite to Superman."
Lois blinked. That took some guts to do. Superman, while well known and much admired, was not usually a guest at these events. "I thought he tended to avoid charity functions because of the paparazzi."
"Wouldn't you?" Bruce asked Lois dryly.
"You're asking the wrong person, Bruce," she replied with asperity, ignoring the slight churning feeling in her stomach at the thought of Superman coming here, tonight. "The only reporters who ever hounded me were the ones who wanted me to comment on something you did because they thought I'd have an inside angle!"
Never mind that she knew very little of the things Bruce did that made the media. As far as some of the more stupid gossip columnists were concerned, her proximity to Bruce Wayne meant she should know everything about what he did in his business and his practise, to say nothing of his personal habits.
"It's always my fault," Bruce said, adopting the air of a beleaguered man.
"Most of the time, it is," Lois replied and saw his eyes twinkle with amusement at her sharpness and changed the topic before he could get his own retort in. "So, do you know if Superman will come?" She knew that Bruce gave her a hard look and ignored it.
"He told Ms. Prinze 'yes,'" the man said. "And the donations started pouring in! Our original goal was one fifty thousand dollars, but we're already halfway there, so Ms. Prinze suggested we raise the bar to one hundred thousand."
"And she promised to match every dollar raised with fifty cents of her own," his wife added.
"A very generous offering," Bruce observed, and cocked a sly smile at Lois. "I might have to consider giving Ms. Prinze a run for her money."
Lois fought the urge to groan. When Bruce's competitive instincts came out, it was best to stand back. In that, he was a lot like her, but where his background was money and privilege, hers was a middle-class upbringing. She opened her mouth to say something sharp and teasing, but was interrupted by a voice as suave and sleek as velvet.
"Please do, Dr. Wayne," Lady Diana Prinze said as she swiped a glass of champagne from a passing waiter with a brief smile for the man. Lois noted the tide of scarlet that rose up over the white collar of the waiter's shirt, infusing his neck with a rosy glow. The Lady continued smoothly, unaware of the havoc she'd caused with her smile. "It would be lovely to have some competition."
As if anyone could compete against you, Lois thought, somewhat uncharitably. If ever one person had been given an excess of gifts and talents, it would have to be the Lady Diana Prinze. Apart from the obvious blessings of beauty, status, and wealth, she was formidably intelligent, very personable, and quite charming.
Tonight, she was charming in a deep blue dress that brought out the colour of her eyes - the intense blue of a Mediterranean sky - and wearing a collar of sapphires set in silver. Lois felt positively dowdy beside her - and this gown was the nicest one she owned.
"As if anyone could compete against you," said the charity director, echoing Lois' thoughts with overdone gallantry.
"It's lovely of you to say so," Ms. Prinze commented. "Although quite untrue." She stated it matter-of-factly, sparing neither her modesty nor her admirer's. Her eyes rested on Bruce with a mischievous twinkle in them. "Dr. Wayne is well capable of competing against me in the donation stakes. And doubtless many other stakes as well. I hear the Wayne Enterprises research on stem cells is nearing its completion, Dr. Wayne?"
Bruce shifted. If he was surprised that a socialite knew of the status of his most recent research project, he evinced no surprise. "We've reached the goals we set out to achieve, Ms. Prinze," he said simply. Give him a chance and he would warm to this topic, but for the moment, he was diffident. "We're looking into an extension, but our backers are not as willing to support further research in this area. We'll bring them around."
Ms. Prinze's gaze flickered to Lois for a moment, arching one delicate brow, and Lois rolled her eyes and grinned. "He means he'll bring them around," she said.
"I have no doubt he will," the other woman said with a sultry look at Bruce.
Lois was honest enough to admit that she was relieved the socialite had at least one weak spot. All manner of handsome men could be found in her company, and God knew, Bruce was handsome enough to drive any woman to distraction. Or obsession.
Did it say something about Lois that the distraction he drove her to was not the kind most people thought was between them? Probably. She'd learned not to care about the gossip many years ago. The death threats were another matter, but she had learned a thing or a dozen through her years of knowing Bruce and wasn't afraid to use them where necessary.
"I'm not sure if you're complimenting me or mocking me, Ms. Prinze," Bruce said lightly, but with a very direct look. If he was aware of the socialite's interest, he was no less polite, trusting in her good manners to ensure that no lines were crossed.
"You need to ask?" Dark lashes fluttered teasingly.
"I'm afraid to," came the retort.
The casual 'salute' she gave him was both respectful and mocking, and she turned to Lois, about to make a comment when her eyes widened as she saw someone over Lois' shoulder. "Oh, he's here! Please excuse me!"
A moment later Ms. Prinze was holding out her hand to the man who had paused at the edge of the balcony doors. A moment later, Lois had turned on her heel, drawn to his magnetic north like sensitised steel.
"Oh, my God," said the director's wife faintly, unable to take her eyes from the man who was bowing over Ms. Prinze's hand with an elegance that would have done a prince proud. "I can't believe he came!"
"I don't think many people thought he would," the director was saying.
"I didn't think he would," Bruce murmured dryly.
Lois barely heard them. She was watching Superman.
She'd only met him a couple of times, but each time had been...breathtaking. A part of her felt ashamed of admiring him so intensely - from what she'd heard, he had quite a fan club - and, indeed, the response to him could be seen all around the room.
Women were staring, blatant envy in their eyes as they watched Ms. Prinze smile and laugh and flirt with their latest guest. The guest himself seemed inclined to an easy friendliness towards his hostess, chatting in a personable manner. Rumour had it, he'd been brought up on an island of warriors - some unheard of, uncharted island in the Bermuda Triangle - although how anything could be uncharted in this day and age was a mystery to Lois.
And Ms. Prinze was bringing him over to their small group.
Her fingers twitched with the urge to run her fingers through her hair and make sure she looked properly groomed. Lois forced the urge away. She was not going to primp and simper like some stupid society bimbo just because a handsome man looked her way.
Beside her, she felt Bruce lean across her slightly to murmur, "Good girl."
She bristled at him, causing him to take a step back and bring his hands up in wry defence against her.
"...must meet a few people, Superman."
"Please," he said in a light, clear tenor. "Call me Kal El."
Lois felt uncharitably jealous of the society belle. It seemed that even legendary superheroes had their Achilles' heel, but how sad to find that Superman's was the smile of a beautiful woman. Still, she viciously kicked her brain into gear as Ms. Prinze introduced him to the director and his wife and took the moment to study him.
He seemed as neatly groomed as always, but not urbane, the way Bruce managed to look. There was a simplicity about him that Bruce would never have in a million years. It wasn't quite innocence, more of an uncomplicated ease that would avoid making things more difficult than they needed to be.
Usually clad in a very colourful costume of blue and red, tonight, he was dressed for a formal evening. The suit looked expensive, and familiarity with Bruce's dress habits forced Lois to admit that it probably was expensive. It would have been tailor-made to fit perfectly across broad shoulders and deep chest, giving him an air of calm formality. Or maybe that was just his manner, the air of royalty that clung to him like the sound of trumpets heralding his presence.
Frankly, Lois didn't care. Recognition was dawning on his face as Ms. Prinze began the introductions, and he interrupted the woman with the start of a smile for his rudeness before turning the full force of that easy, honest pleasure on Lois.
"Miss Lane, I believe?" Superman said, taking her hand and covering it with one of his own. "We meet again."
The touch of his hand sent tingles up her arm and down her spine. The room might as well have been empty but for him and her - she certainly didn't have the faintest idea if Bruce was laughing at her behind her back - although he probably was. If so, she didn't care. She was talking to Superman. And he remembered her name!
"Under less dramatic circumstances than the last time," Lois said. A part of her that wasn't dizzy over his attention was screaming at her. She suspected it was trying to tell her not to look like a simpering idiot. She had an awful feeling it was failing.
"You know of my colleague, don't you? Dr. Bruce Wayne?"
Superman turned his gaze towards Bruce and inclined his head. "I've heard of Dr. Wayne by reputation only, I'm afraid," he said. "Although the reports are one and all excellent. You're doing good work, both in that clinic of yours and at Wayne Enterprises."
"You're very kind, Superman," Bruce replied, "if mistaken. I have little to do with Wayne Enterprises."
"The name would suggest otherwise," Ms. Prinze murmured, just loud enough for both men to hear.
Lois barely held back a giggle at the woman's gentle dig at Bruce's modesty. Superman gave both women a hard look but only said, "As Ms. Prinze has indicated, your part in keeping Wayne Enterprises an open corporation is not exactly a secret. And has earned you the enmity of Lex Luthor."
She felt Bruce tense, for all that her hand was still firmly in Superman's, and barely held back a flinch herself. Still, for all that, Bruce's answer was easy.
"It doesn't take a lot to earn Luthor's enmity," he said. "All you have to do is show him up a couple of times and he'll hate you for life." He grinned, a touch of the devil in his smile. "I can show you if you like."
Superman stared for a moment, before he seemed to realise it was a joke and grinned back.
A moment later, the world splintered and shattered around their ears.
Luthor aside, Bruce had been more than ready to corner the Man of Steel in an attempt to acquire the opportunity to study the unusual physiology of the Kryptonian.
Then the windows crashed inward under the weight and force of armoured men.
Even as people screamed and fled, Bruce had pressed a button on his wristwatch that sent a tiny signal to Alfred, down in the limousine. If he could find an exit, he could turn into Crusader in less than a minute.
He didn't have even a minute.
There were guns trained on the now-panicked crowds. Guns, but no bullets - not yet.
In the meantime, there was a moving blur of black tuxedo and white shirt that had already take care of two of the men, impervious to the bullets that bounced off his skin.
Bruce had to admit, it was a very dramatic save on Superman's part.
But even more dramatic was the move the theives took to stop him.
Bruce saw the side of the muzzle of the gun swinging towards him, and allowed it to knock him backwards. A certain clumsiness acted in his favour as a disguise. Disguise was good.
The gun muzzles that now pointed at Lois and Ms. Prinze were not.
"Hey, Superman!" The bandit yelled, his voice hard and cold. "Are your girlfriends bulletproof?"
As threats went, it was a highly effective one.
Superman froze, the strong muscles of his neck and throat standing out as he willed himself to stillness for the sake of the bystanders. Sprawled inelegantly on the floor, at one level, Bruce was impressed with the ingenuity of the men. On the other hand, that ingenuity had neutralised their biggest threat, which was not quite as impressive - from Bruce's point of view, anyway.
"Ladies and gentlemen," spoke one of the men. "We hope you've been having a lovely night!"
He seemed standard for most of the intruders, dressed in green army-like fatigues with a flak jacket, balaclava, and a semi-automatic weapon - one of the older AK-47s. Bruce noted the spare sidearms that several of the men wore, and briefly wondered if he could reach one, then abandoned the thought of heroics as long as they had so many men and so many hostages.
The spokesperson continued, dry irony in his voice as he added to his greeting. "We're going to make this simple for you rich, fancy folks. Hand over your jewels and valubles and you won't get hurt!"
With a sigh, Ms Prinze collapsed on the floor.
Bruce barely managed to catch her before she hit her head. He lunged up from the floor and promtly found himself with an armful of fainted socialite.
Due to his training, his mind tended to remember fragments of scenes in peculiar montages. His senses would later pull up the memory of her scent, the feel of her skin, and the colour of her dress. Jasmine, velvet, royal blue... His senses would also recall the calibre of the guns, the limp of the leader, the military gait of several of the men. Coolly, his mind catalogued all this information away. There was significant organisation behind tonight, this hadn't been planned this afternoon.
Lois was pale and worried, but not unduly frightened as the men stripped her of her jewellery and purse, tossing them into a sack each man pulled from beneath his flak jacket. The gun held against her head kept Superman tense but quiescent.
But at this moment, all that came secondary.
The first thought in his mind was that Ms. Prinze wasn't breathing.
There was an order to the world. Bruce felt it in his bones. He'd become a doctor in honour of his father's life. He'd become a vigilante in search of justice for his father's death. The two were a balance that he'd struggled with all his life.
He wasn't so sure he'd found it, even now.
Crusader should be in here, showing these men who owned this city, who claimed it - protected it.
Dr. Bruce Wayne only knew that there was a woman here who needed his medical expertise.
The doctor won. Thieves can be tracked down, but dead is dead. Not much of a choice at all.
Frantically, Bruce checked for a pulse and sighed in relief as he found it. At least he wouldn't have to initiate CPR. His jacket was yanked off with more speed than skill to give him greater freedom of movement. A handgun was cocked at his head and he could feel the tension in the trigger-finger, mere millimetres from splattering his brains out across the white-gold rug.
"What are you doing?"
Another man might have frozen. Bruce did not. "She's not breathing," he said, checking her mouth without looking up at the man who held the weapon on him. "I'm a doctor, I'm helping. You're already up for theft and endangerment. Do you really want to add murder to your rap sheet?"
There was a silence from the man, and Bruce brushed a finger across the fine plane of the cheek and checked her pulse again. Still strong, but her chest wasn't moving.
She wasn't breathing.
"Get his wallet off him!" Someone else yelled. "Don't worry about the bitch!"
He pointed at the discarded jacket without looking away from his patient. "Wallet's in there." Not that he carried much to these events. Chequebook. ID. Credit card. The rest was left with Alfred down in the limo. Unnecessary.
Vaguely, he was aware of a chance in the tension of the room. Then there was the sound of steady gunfire and renewed screams. A moment later Lois flung herself down to the floor beside him, "Is she okay?"
Bruce hardly noticed.
His eyes were on her face, on the rich beauty so still and unmoving, and he tilted her head back and began resuscitation techniques. Breathe, count four, breathe, count four, breathe count four...
She wasn't breathing.
Beyond him, there were cries and the sounds of fists hitting flesh. A woman's voice rang through the room above his head, cool, commanding tones that bordered on the familiar - if his mind could only stop long enough process it. He stored the familiarity for a time when he wasn't attending to his patient and cataloguing other tiny bits and pieces about the situation.
A moment later, a second pair of fists joined the fray, and he could hear the alarm and panic through the room - as well as the subtle shift of dynamics. The intruders were on the defensive now, taken by surprise.
But she wasn't breathing.
Damn you, woman, he thought angrily as he continued resuscitation. Breathe!
He could keep this up for only a little longer, then someone else would have to take over. In the meantime, she wasn't getting as much oxygen as her brain usually needed. Oh, there'd be enough to keep her alive, but not much else.
She wasn't breathing.
In the background, he could hear Lois gabbling into a cellphone - she'd had the presence of mind to call the ambulance. Alfred would have sent an alarm to the Gotham City Police the instant he received the signal from Bruce.
That was the way things usually worked in Gotham. Crusader took care of the problem, and the GCPD got the criminal they wanted.
The GCPD would be on their way by now, but Ms. Prinze needed an ambulance.
In the meantime, she had Bruce working over her.
And the stupid woman still wasn't breathing!
"The ambulance is on their way." Lois glanced up, "And the police have just arrived..."
The sounds of fighting had stopped. There was no gunfire. Superman was speaking to someone. The GCPD had arrived on the scene.
Ms. Prinze wasn't breathing.
"Injuries?" Bruce didn't look up from the socialite. Even unconscious, the woman was exquisitely beautiful. Now if she'd only be exquisitely beautiful and breathing!
"One man is dead," she said, pale and tight. Lois wasn't the fainting-flower type. "A couple of bruises where people got smacked around when they resisted the gunmen taking their stuff. A bullet wound, but Hank O'Malley is on him."
Hank was a good doctor. One less thing for Bruce to worry about anyway.
"Superman?" He was surprised she hadn't yet said anything about Superman. Lois, for all her aspirations to being a modern, independent woman, had fallen for the Kryptonian from day one.
"Imprisoning the last of the thieves with Lady Night."
That startled him as few things did. Bruce paused in his resuscitation and looked up, startled. "Lady Night?" Abruptly he recalled himself and returned his attention to Diana.
"She arrived after Ms. Prinze fainted," Lois said. "They're..."
"Is there anything I can do?"
Bruce barely looked up at Superman's request, mentally counting to another four as he said. "If you can get her to a hospital in the next thirty seconds, then, yes." He bent to breathe into her again.
And this time, as his lips lifted from hers, she moved under him, trying to inhale and exhale all at once. The result wasn't pretty. She choked as her reflexes demanded she drag air into her lungs and yet expel whatever it was had gotten caught in her throat.
Still, there was no way to describe the relief Bruce felt as he sat back on his haunches and began waving people away. It rushed through his veins, as intoxicating as any drug, as triumphal as any primal cry. He had fought death and pushed it back for one more day.
A fight worth fighting for.
Now, he'd have a harder battle on his hands: crowd control and giving a socialite advice.
"Ladies and gentlemen, step back. Give her air to breathe." He watched the blue eyes open, and had a reassuring hand on her shoulder as she sat up coughing and wheezing. "It's okay, Ms. Prinze. Everything's fine." Charity Director Kennedy was still hovering anxiously so Bruce addressed him, polite, but firm. "Would you get Ms. Prinze a glass of water?"
It was one way to make the man stop hovering.
She coughed a few moments more, sounding oddly forced, before she drew in a long, steady breath and exhaled clearly. "Are they gone?"
Bruce kept his hand on her shoulder. "Yes," he said, with an authority he didn't have.
Technically, he didn't know that the bandits were gone, but he trusted Superman and Lady Night. If those two were cleaning up, they'd have done a fairly thorough job.
That didn't mean he wasn't going to have a talk with them both about jurisdiction and his city. Never mind that he hadn't been able to stop these thieves, they should have known better. Besides, Crusader had a reputation to keep in Gotham and among his team-mates of the League. "They're gone." As she sat up, he put on his best 'authoritative doctor' voice. "Take it easy there. You stopped breathing for a couple of minutes."
One black-gloved hand waved him away, but she accepted the glass of water with a smile for the director before she looked back at Bruce. "Don't fuss, Dr. Wayne," she said lightly. "I'm fine. Just a fainting spell, nothing to be worried about."
"A fainting spell during which you stopped breathing for several minutes," Bruce said, careful to rein in his irritation.
She'd taken a gulp of water while he spoke, her eyes fixed on his face in a very disconcerting manner. It gave the impression she was listening very hard to his words, though Bruce considered it highly unlikely that she'd pay heed to anything he said.
He was right.
"Dr. Wayne," she said, in a coaxing voice that made him want to gnash his teeth, "it should be quite obvious that, unconscious or not-breathing, I'm fine. Better than fine, in fact."
"You should listen to your doctor, Diana," Superman said, looking away from where he'd been speaking with Lois.
Oh, so it's 'Diana' is it? Not that the intervention did all that much. She only came back with the retort: "Sadly, he's not my doctor, Superman." The arch look that accompanied such sentiments was aimed squarely at Bruce, and he ignored the brief syncopated thud of his heart. He was a single man, not a dead one.
"If I was your doctor, you would be obeying my directions," Bruce said somewhat dryly. He was well aware that he was playing into her hands with his comment, but sometimes that was the easiest way to deal with a woman.
Lois didn't quite sigh, but he could see the roll of her eyes from where she stood as Ms. Prinze answered, "So I guess you like being in control, hmm?" The gleam in the socialite's eyes was positively wicked as she regarded him, and he flushed. His complexion was beyond his control, even if he had a sharp rein on his thoughts a moment later.
He didn't bother to hide the flush. It would add to his image of a woman-oblivious work-obsessed doctor. "Ms. Prinze," he said with the manner of someone trying to keep a derailed topic on the straight-and-narrow, "When the paramedics arrive, I'd like you to go with them. You should have a couple of tests performed, just to be sure that everything is fine..."
"Oh, that shouldn't be necessary, surely?"
"I'd strongly advise it..."
"But I don't have to if I don't want to, do I?"
She certainly had her cajoling down pat. Bruce sighed. "No, you don't have to, but Ms. Prinze, you were unconscious for..."
"Thank you," she said, and now there was the hint of stubbornness in her voice. "But no. I'm quite fine, Dr. Wayne, I assure you. No more help needed." Then she smiled a little. "Unless you're going to be helping me up from the floor."
Bruce recognised a lost cause when he saw one. Not so Superman.
"Ms. Prinze, I don't think you should be dismissing Dr. Wayne's opinions so lightly."
"Oh, Superman," she said with a laugh as the Man of Steel helped her back onto her feet, "Dr. Wayne has my utmost respect as a practitioner of medicine, but I feel fine." Her hand rested on the muscled bicep for balance a few moments longer than necessary, and Bruce bit back the surge of irritation that washed over him at the woman's careless dismissal of her situation. Several minutes with minimal oxygen to the brain was nothing to sniff at.
Still, he wasn't so rank an innocent as to show such irritation on his face. To the rest of the world, his expression was rueful and exasperated as Lois hauled him to his feet. "You're okay?" He asked her with a quick glance over her to confirm it for himself, even as he also took in the rest of the room in his peripheral vision.
A dozen bodies lay prone on the floor, most being hauled up and handcuffed even as he watched.
The GCPD were giving the matter their full attention - not that they had much choice with Gotham's wealthiest and most powerful in the room.
Superman went to speak with them, excusing himself, and escorting Ms. Prinze over so she could give the detectives a bit of information about the guests - or just so she could break a few more hearts. Bruce was feeling quite disgruntled after having his medical opinion so summarily dismissed.
A glance around the room showed most guests had found chairs. Not a few were looking very distressed. Those were most usually surrounded by friends and acquaintances who were saying things in soothing tones. One sensible servitor had found a tray of champagne and was passing it around to steady the nerves of any guests who felt they needed something to drink.
Personally, Bruce felt that a double whiskey on the rocks would have been more than welcome.
A man had died in the theft attempt. His tablecloth-covered body lay in a spreading stain of scarlet. Across the room, the dead man's wife was sitting in a chair having hysterics as another woman held her hands and spoke to her. Bruce's hearing didn't reach that far, but judging from what he could read of her lips, she had already begun counselling the bereaved woman.
He saw Hank O'Malley, kneeling down beside a man, glancing around in assessment of the situation. Their eyes met and meshed, and Hank gave him a quick nod to show that things were under control for the moment.
Bruce turned his attention back to Lois, who was answering the question he'd first asked.
"I'm fine," she said, more irritated than scared. "I handed over my stuff, nice and polite and they promptly ignored me. Other than the shock of having a gun stuck to my head..." She heaved a deep sigh, looking out across the floor where the Gotham Police Department had arrived and were taking charge of the situation.
"What did they take?" Bruce asked.
"Mostly personal stuff," she told him. "Purses, wallets, jewellery. They were halfway through when Lady Night appeared." Lois shook her head. "One minute, there was nothing, the next, she'd slipped out of the shadows and was in the middle of it all. She got four of them down before they realised what was going on. Then Superman joined her, and between them they got most of them."
"Most? Some escaped?" Bruce arched a brow. Something in him was pleased. Tracking them down would be Crusader's task later tonight.
After he had a word with Superman and Lady Night. They'd done good work, but Crusader did have a reputation to keep. And Gotham was his city, after all.
"Only a handful." The pretty bow lips twisted in sudden frustration. "But the ones that did took my Palm Pilot! I had my notes for tomorrow's articles all written up on it!"
In spite of everything that had happened tonight, Bruce found himself with the urge to throw back his head and laugh. Lois was incorrigible. He took her elbow and gently steered her towards the tables where enterprising waiters were pouring glasses of alcohol as fast as they could.
Across the function room, Ms. Prinze was charming Commissioner Gordon with that smile.
"I could do with a drink," Bruce said. "I think we're going to be here a while."
He could wait an hour or two before starting on the hunt for these men. They hadn't been mere thieves, that was for sure - there was too much organisation here, even for one of the gangster groups that Gotham bred like rabbits.
Organisation left papertrails, and papertrails led to criminals.
And when Crusader found the criminals...
Well, that was for later.
Trinity: Remixed - Part Two
*
eleven ladies dancing, (SG-1)
ten pipers piping, (Firefly)
nine drummers drumming, (JL)
eight maids a-milking, (HP)
seven swans a-swimming, (SG-1)
six geese a-laying, (Angel)
five gold rings! (SG-1)
Four calling birds, (HP)
three french hens, (Firefly)
two turtle doves, (SG-1)
and a partridge in a pear tree! (JL)
Here endeth the Twelve Days of Fic-Mas 2004!
