Scars & Hearts: The Batman Fanfiction

Chapter Twenty-Eight

"How is there no footage? No witnesses? No nothing." Bruce growled, pacing back in forth in the dimly lit room.

Alfred stood, a tray in hand. 

He'd been attempting to get the young man to eat, even just a light bite, for what seemed like ages, but Bruce continuously made it known that the last thing on his mind was food.

Besides, he wasn't sure he could stomach it.

His mouth felt like cotton, his stomach was hollowed, but there was no hunger, just something much worse: fear.

He feared for Anya. He knew she was strong, having survived so much, but she'd never been through something like this.

When he thought about what could happen to her, he saw red, and he wondered if he would be able to keep his oath.

The oath he'd sworn himself to upon putting on the mask. 

"It is a sketchier part of town." Alfred allowed. 

"Which is all the more reason to have surveillance cameras. Anything." 

"Master Wayne," Alfred said, voice soft, as if Bruce were a disgruntled animal, or perhaps child, he was trying not to provoke.

Bruce sighed, head bowed, he looked up at the man from the corner of his eye.

"Has Commissioner Gordon been in contact?" Alfred asked, grasping at straws of conversation.

Bruce used his forefinger and thumb to rub against his temple, eyes squeezed tight.

"There's supposed to be a press conference. They want me in attendance."

"Will you be attending?"

Bruce smiled, but it lacked any joy. "It would seem pretty suspicious if Bruce Wayne didn't show up to a press conference about the disappearance of his fiancée, don't you think?"

***

"Commissioner Gordon," Bruce shook the man's hand. 

The man's eyes were tired, permanently drawn on dark circles around them, and a five o'clock shadow casted across the lower part of his face. 

Bruce could not recall ever seeing the man properly rested.

"Mr. Wayne, I apologize for a lack of news, but rest assured, we have our best officers on the job."

This provided no reassurance, whatsoever, but Bruce nodded his thanks anyway.

Bruce looked past the commissioner, onto the small makeshift stage set up in the lobby of the Gotham City Police Department. 

On an easel was a large photo of Anya. 

Her lips were spread wide in a toothy grin, (no chipped tooth, evidently from some time ago), her hair cascaded down her shoulders, resting against the white lab coat she wore, and her eyes radiated the type of joy that had originally attracted him to her.

 Gordon climbed the steps of the stage, taking his position in front of the podium, while Bruce lingered to the side.

He could feel the cameras trained on his face, see the flashes from the corner of his eyes.

There was a crowd of dozens of reporters, all clamoring to get a better shot of the billionaire. 

News traveled fast. He suspected somebody, a rat within the GCPD, had given reporters the heads up that Bruce Wayne was somehow involved in this disappearance.

Gordon began the press conference as usual. He talked about who Anya was as a person, a tactic to get the kidnappers to see her as human, Bruce knew that much, and the thought made his stomach turn.

"Ms. Flores is a doctor, who's dedicated much of her life to this community, and her family cannot imagine that anybody would want to hurt her."

'Family.' 

What family Anya did have left were in a different country, hundreds, if not thousands of miles away, and she'd never talked much about them. 

Gordon continued on.

Bruce stood, eyes drawn downward, avoiding anyone's gaze.

"Any questions?" Gordon asked. 

Immediately, reporters began speaking above each other.

"Any suspects?"

"How is Mr. Wayne involved?"

"Could this be a connection to the recent rise in burglaries?"

A light seemed to flicker in Bruce's head.

The burglaries.

"We have no suspects, and Mr. Wayne's relationship with the victim will remain private."

"Actually-" The words had barely left Gordon's mouth before Bruce himself was climbing the steps of the stage. "Anya Flores is my fiancée." There was a collective gasp in the audience. 

Though it had been reported in the Gotham Gazette, only fools believed everything that gossip rag had to say. This was confirmation, straight from the source, and it would be headline news once more. Exactly what Bruce wanted.

He stood next to Gordon, who gave him a puzzled look in return.

"I am willing to give a reward of one million dollars to anyone who has any information on the whereabouts of my fiancée. Thank you."

"Mr. Wayne!" 

"Mr. Wayne!"

He walked down the stage then out of the police building before he could be questioned further.

The burglaries.