Epilogue: About Time
Note: This is the last chapter and it is a short one. Sorry, but I will be posting the 2nd story, the sequel, shortly. I just have to wait on my editor, who is my mom. Yes, I said my mom. She is reeeeaaaaallllllyyyy slow sometimes. Thank you to everyone who has read this story it means so much to me.
Epilogue: About time
Bruce was adamant about Wayne Manor being rebuilt yet again.
Until it was, he, Alfred, Faith, Willow, Xander, and Giles took up residence in the Penthouse. It was fortunate he owned the entire building.
It took all of six months to hunt down all of Fargre’an’s minions. Some were easier to find than others, while some battles were more difficult than others. But it was a job that they took on with pride and determination.
The night they had slain the last one, the time on the clock when it hit the ground dead had been 11:43. Bruce Wayne was on his private jet at 12:23.
Willow and the others had stayed behind, in their new temporary home. The manor would be their permanent home. Once it was rebuilt, Xander would take care of the yard. Willow would help around the house. Giles would take over Dr. Livingston’s job at the museum when the man retired in a few weeks. Faith would help out where she could around the Penthouse and then manor, and hunt at night. While she didn’t even try to put on Buffy’s suit, which she had dubbed ‘Wraith’, she wasn’t planning on being a socialite either. There were a few vampires here and there that kept her busy, and a couple of bad guys, the human kind, that she could take care of until the Bat returned home to roost.
The top floor of the Penthouse had gone through a little renovation. At least one room in particular. A mint green and pale yellow paint job, with a crib and everything else that a baby would need.
The story that Bruce Wayne was taking a vacation from Gotham to recover from the traumatic experience of losing his family home yet again spread like wildfire. The city of Gotham bought it.
When the plane touched down in Romania, outside a little town called Cluj, there was a 4x4 waiting for Bruce when he arrived. He had nothing but the clothes on his back and some money in his pocket.
The drive was a long one. Over roads that were rough and a few that were nothing more than trails through thick grass. It took him eight hours to find it. He had needed no map. He could find her anywhere.
The house was nestled up against a mountain side, surrounded by dense forest. It was small, only eight rooms, or so, but he didn’t care. It had been six months since she had left Gotham, making her about eight months along now. There was no way she could travel back to the airstrip and fly back to Gotham. They would just have to live here until she was ready to travel.
He got out of the jeep, tired, covered in dust from the road, but in spite of all of this, he was smiling like an idiot and knew it. He had not spoken to her since the night she had slapped him, there was no way to call or email way out here. Cell phones did not work. And she did not have an address, technically, and there wasn’t a post office for miles. No way to tell her that he was coming. But he knew that she knew he was here.
The door opened. Richard peered out. He smiled. He had known. Of course he had.
“Ruh Baba,” he cried, running out and into Bruce’s arms. Bruce picked him up into the air, holding him close. He couldn’t help the tears that stung his eyes. “I knew you were coming. I could feel it.”
“I would have walked, blindfolded, with my hands and feet chained to get to you,” he whispered to the boy.
Richard leaned back to look at him. “I missed you, daddy.”
Bruce kissed the boy on the forehead, unable to speak. Then his eyes saw the doorway to the house, and his breath caught in his throat as the tears ran freely.
Buffy smiled at him. “It’s about time.”
Edward Nigma hated Arkham Asylum. After all he had done to help the Batman and his friends, and this was the thanks he got.
The nurse came in, a new one by the looks of her. She wore a mask that covered her nose and mouth and chin and her dark hair was in a pony tail behind her head. Edward studied her closer: he could swear she was familiar to him.
“How are you today,” she began, pulling the mask down, “Riddler?”
“Oh bloody hell!” He exclaimed, trying to wiggle free from the straight jacket he wore. He had been trying for months to convince anyone who would listen that Bruce Wayne was Batman. No one believed him. How could they not? “What do you want? Leave me alone.”
“Don’t worry, Edward,” Kennedy said as she drove the needle into his neck. “The Joker sends his regards.”