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whiskeycoffee2008-01-01 07:07 pm
mjules.livejournal.com) wrote in whiskeycoffee2008-01-01 07:07 pm
Entry tags:
"The Highest Reaches of Hell" (Batman Begins, Bruce Wayne, 1/1)
Title: The Highest Reaches of Hell
Author: m.jules
Fandom: Batman Begins
Written for: Sinquepida in the Yuletide 2007 Challenge
Summary: Hell looks different to everyone who lives there. Sometimes it even looks like five-star hotels and elite company.
Author's Notes: Thank you to FloridianaJax, who served as my very first beta over five years ago, who made a guest reappearance as consultant on this. Also thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fireun, who unknowingly made a (very popular) cameo as April.
It took him a while to learn which girls would ask the dangerous kinds of questions and which would only ask if he preferred to be on bottom or on top. In the beginning, he avoided those in the first category, too honest to lie and too wise to tell the truth. Later, the second category bored him and he started seeking out the girls who were curious about more than his shoe size.
"They say you came back from the dead," a sharp-eyed redhead -- April, his mind supplied -- said with a cautious sort of warmth as she leaned in. "What's it like in heaven?"
"You'll have to ask someone else about that," Bruce laughed easily, sliding an arm around her shoulders. She accepted the gesture but didn't simper and giggle like the brunette of two weeks ago had done. "I spent all my time in hell."
April's eyebrow quirked up and she regarded him with interest. "So then, tell us about hell."
Bruce smiled, letting his eyes go distant for a moment. This was a game he was still learning to play -- enough fantasy to occupy the imagination away from seeking the truth, enough truth to cast a shadow of doubt on disbelief -- and he was enjoying learning the ropes, the rules. It was a new challenge, one that worked his mind the way he had worked his body for the seven years he'd spent in 'hell.'
"It's dry and hot, not a drop of rain ever falls." He pulled himself back from his reverie, giving April a rakish smile.
Feet slipping in the mud, the chill of the rainy season soaking through his clothes, through his skin, making him shiver even though he didn't feel it.
"You might see other people paying for their sins, but you never talk to them, never come in contact with them." His fingers brushed through that russet hair and he smiled at her as he curled the silken strands around one of his fingers. "No human touch... it's solitary confinement without a cell."
Bones cracking under his knuckles, his elbow. Fists against flesh, skin splitting, blood everywhere.
"That's depressing, Bruce," said another girl, a blonde -- Holly? No, Heather. -- as she gave him a pretty pout. The pink curve of her lower lip was meant to entice him into the tales of what sins might have paved his way into such a place: orgies and wild, drunken debaucheries; promises of what sort of thing she might expect out of him tonight.
"So Dante was wrong?" April presses, smiling as his hand slips free of her hair. "Or did you only make it to the first circle?"
Heather looked confused, so Jimmy, the city bank president's son who was obviously vying for her questionable attentions, explained with an air of knowledge, "Dante wrote that hell was made of ten different levels, or circles, each filled with more vile sinners as you go inward."
April opened her mouth to correct him but Bruce said smoothly, "Actually, Dante thought there were nine." April looked mildly impressed and Bruce smiled at her, showing teeth. "But I think I may have found a tenth." Charm, Bruce had learned, was essential to lying convincingly.
"What's in the tenth circle?" Heather wanted to know, leaning forward to display her well-tanned cleavage above the low neckline of her gold satin dress.
Hand remaining on April's bare shoulder, just barely avoiding toying with the pale green strap of her evening gown, Bruce smiled engagingly at Heather. "What do you think is there?"
April shifted subtly, dislodging his hand, and he spared a momentary glance in her direction. Had she only been pretending to ask the dangerous questions to get his attention, to differentiate herself from the bubbling Heather but with the same intentions? He found himself feeling mildly disappointed.
Heather giggled and swayed into Jimmy, who was more than happy to put his arm around her in the pretense of steadying her. For a moment, just a moment, Bruce wanted to push away from the marble-topped table, let his linen napkin drop to the floor, shoulder past the maitre d'hotel and leave the glittering restaurant with its genuine crystal and polished silver to people who found amusement and meaning in evenings like this. I have too many things to do to be here now, wasting time like this.
"Oh, I don't know," Heather said. "I've never been there -- yet."
"Why don't you just tell us, Bruce?" April said, a challenging note to her voice. "You found it, after all."
It was obvious that she was stung, though he wondered if it was his attention to Heather or his blatant lies that disappointed her. Maybe she had been asking the question with a deeper purpose than an opportunity to find out whether his bed sheets were satin or Egyptian cotton. Maybe it was time to answer her. There came a time, Bruce had learned, when telling the truth was safe, even down to all the gritty details.
"It's cold," he said. "Ice and snow, an entirely different kind of desert. Full of silent demons, nightmares that come to life before your very eyes." April was watching him more closely now and Heather was tucking herself more securely into Jimmy's side, looking vaguely alarmed. Jimmy was looking opportunistic. "It's the home of the devil himself," Bruce continued, the corner of his mouth turning up in roguish charm. "You don't get in without an invitation."
A flower, blue and perfect, untouched, uncrushed, though his own hands were bloody from catching himself on the rocks. Red veinwork of frost worked its way up his wrist, blood that had frozen in rivulets as it seeped across his cold, cold skin. Fire and powder and a box full of bats.
"How did you earn your invitation, then?" April wanted to know, and her question this time was more pointed. He had a feeling bedsheets weren't even on her mind.
"Now, why would I tell you how to get into such a miserable place?" He smiled with false fondness, stroking the back of one knuckle lightly across her bare arm. She flinched a bit, but by now they both knew the game they were playing and she let him play it. "After all, it isn't everyone who can just come back form the dead after seven years, is it?"
"I suppose not," April conceded with a wry smile.
"And that's why you're Bruce Wayne!" Heather injected brightly, happy to be on familiar ground again. Jimmy smiled good-naturedly and squeezed her shoulders, jostling her a bit. Bruce couldn't help but notice the young man hadn't said much of anything all night, though he suspected it was more out of social awkwardness than any hidden agenda.
"I guess it is, at that," Bruce said. "But even Bruce Wayne has to sleep sometime, and I think we're becoming unwelcome here."
The maitre d'hotel was standing expectantly within sight, and Bruce checked his watch. It wasn't quite a pointed gesture, but it was enough. Quarter past two in the morning was a perfectly respectable time for a billionaire playboy to retire and he was glad of it. He was getting too old for this sort of thing to be as common as it was.
This is all Alfred's fault, he thought with more fondness than rancor. He knew that when he got home, Alfred would still be awake, attentive and waiting for him. Bruce's double-life took a toll on more people than just himself and it made him love the butler even more to know that he didn't bear this burden alone.
"So we are," April observed, rising gracefully. Heather and Jimmy did the same, giggling to each other as they followed April and Bruce to the door.
Maybe I can convince Jimmy he owes me one for this, Bruce thought mildly. He took April's stole from the maitre d'hotel and wrapped it around her shoulders, smiling at her as he freed her long red hair from the cloak and let it slip through his fingers to her back.
"You know, Bruce," April mused as she took his arm, "I have a friend I'd like you to meet sometime."
"Oh?" Bruce asked idly, motioning for the car.
"Mm," April agreed. "Don't be surprised if you get a call in a few days -- I think the two of you would enjoy each other's company. You have a lot in common."
That piqued Bruce's interest. "May I ask his name?"
"Her name," April said with a smirk, "Is Selina Kyle."
Bruce nodded, tucking the name away in his mind. He wondered if his stories of hell were what had reminded April of her friend, and whether it was lying or hell itself that Selina Kyle had in common with him. Either way, it would be interesting, he felt sure.
"I'll be looking forward to it."
Author: m.jules
Fandom: Batman Begins
Written for: Sinquepida in the Yuletide 2007 Challenge
Summary: Hell looks different to everyone who lives there. Sometimes it even looks like five-star hotels and elite company.
Author's Notes: Thank you to FloridianaJax, who served as my very first beta over five years ago, who made a guest reappearance as consultant on this. Also thanks to
fireun, who unknowingly made a (very popular) cameo as April.It took him a while to learn which girls would ask the dangerous kinds of questions and which would only ask if he preferred to be on bottom or on top. In the beginning, he avoided those in the first category, too honest to lie and too wise to tell the truth. Later, the second category bored him and he started seeking out the girls who were curious about more than his shoe size.
"They say you came back from the dead," a sharp-eyed redhead -- April, his mind supplied -- said with a cautious sort of warmth as she leaned in. "What's it like in heaven?"
"You'll have to ask someone else about that," Bruce laughed easily, sliding an arm around her shoulders. She accepted the gesture but didn't simper and giggle like the brunette of two weeks ago had done. "I spent all my time in hell."
April's eyebrow quirked up and she regarded him with interest. "So then, tell us about hell."
Bruce smiled, letting his eyes go distant for a moment. This was a game he was still learning to play -- enough fantasy to occupy the imagination away from seeking the truth, enough truth to cast a shadow of doubt on disbelief -- and he was enjoying learning the ropes, the rules. It was a new challenge, one that worked his mind the way he had worked his body for the seven years he'd spent in 'hell.'
"It's dry and hot, not a drop of rain ever falls." He pulled himself back from his reverie, giving April a rakish smile.
Feet slipping in the mud, the chill of the rainy season soaking through his clothes, through his skin, making him shiver even though he didn't feel it.
"You might see other people paying for their sins, but you never talk to them, never come in contact with them." His fingers brushed through that russet hair and he smiled at her as he curled the silken strands around one of his fingers. "No human touch... it's solitary confinement without a cell."
Bones cracking under his knuckles, his elbow. Fists against flesh, skin splitting, blood everywhere.
"That's depressing, Bruce," said another girl, a blonde -- Holly? No, Heather. -- as she gave him a pretty pout. The pink curve of her lower lip was meant to entice him into the tales of what sins might have paved his way into such a place: orgies and wild, drunken debaucheries; promises of what sort of thing she might expect out of him tonight.
"So Dante was wrong?" April presses, smiling as his hand slips free of her hair. "Or did you only make it to the first circle?"
Heather looked confused, so Jimmy, the city bank president's son who was obviously vying for her questionable attentions, explained with an air of knowledge, "Dante wrote that hell was made of ten different levels, or circles, each filled with more vile sinners as you go inward."
April opened her mouth to correct him but Bruce said smoothly, "Actually, Dante thought there were nine." April looked mildly impressed and Bruce smiled at her, showing teeth. "But I think I may have found a tenth." Charm, Bruce had learned, was essential to lying convincingly.
"What's in the tenth circle?" Heather wanted to know, leaning forward to display her well-tanned cleavage above the low neckline of her gold satin dress.
Hand remaining on April's bare shoulder, just barely avoiding toying with the pale green strap of her evening gown, Bruce smiled engagingly at Heather. "What do you think is there?"
April shifted subtly, dislodging his hand, and he spared a momentary glance in her direction. Had she only been pretending to ask the dangerous questions to get his attention, to differentiate herself from the bubbling Heather but with the same intentions? He found himself feeling mildly disappointed.
Heather giggled and swayed into Jimmy, who was more than happy to put his arm around her in the pretense of steadying her. For a moment, just a moment, Bruce wanted to push away from the marble-topped table, let his linen napkin drop to the floor, shoulder past the maitre d'hotel and leave the glittering restaurant with its genuine crystal and polished silver to people who found amusement and meaning in evenings like this. I have too many things to do to be here now, wasting time like this.
"Oh, I don't know," Heather said. "I've never been there -- yet."
"Why don't you just tell us, Bruce?" April said, a challenging note to her voice. "You found it, after all."
It was obvious that she was stung, though he wondered if it was his attention to Heather or his blatant lies that disappointed her. Maybe she had been asking the question with a deeper purpose than an opportunity to find out whether his bed sheets were satin or Egyptian cotton. Maybe it was time to answer her. There came a time, Bruce had learned, when telling the truth was safe, even down to all the gritty details.
"It's cold," he said. "Ice and snow, an entirely different kind of desert. Full of silent demons, nightmares that come to life before your very eyes." April was watching him more closely now and Heather was tucking herself more securely into Jimmy's side, looking vaguely alarmed. Jimmy was looking opportunistic. "It's the home of the devil himself," Bruce continued, the corner of his mouth turning up in roguish charm. "You don't get in without an invitation."
A flower, blue and perfect, untouched, uncrushed, though his own hands were bloody from catching himself on the rocks. Red veinwork of frost worked its way up his wrist, blood that had frozen in rivulets as it seeped across his cold, cold skin. Fire and powder and a box full of bats.
"How did you earn your invitation, then?" April wanted to know, and her question this time was more pointed. He had a feeling bedsheets weren't even on her mind.
"Now, why would I tell you how to get into such a miserable place?" He smiled with false fondness, stroking the back of one knuckle lightly across her bare arm. She flinched a bit, but by now they both knew the game they were playing and she let him play it. "After all, it isn't everyone who can just come back form the dead after seven years, is it?"
"I suppose not," April conceded with a wry smile.
"And that's why you're Bruce Wayne!" Heather injected brightly, happy to be on familiar ground again. Jimmy smiled good-naturedly and squeezed her shoulders, jostling her a bit. Bruce couldn't help but notice the young man hadn't said much of anything all night, though he suspected it was more out of social awkwardness than any hidden agenda.
"I guess it is, at that," Bruce said. "But even Bruce Wayne has to sleep sometime, and I think we're becoming unwelcome here."
The maitre d'hotel was standing expectantly within sight, and Bruce checked his watch. It wasn't quite a pointed gesture, but it was enough. Quarter past two in the morning was a perfectly respectable time for a billionaire playboy to retire and he was glad of it. He was getting too old for this sort of thing to be as common as it was.
This is all Alfred's fault, he thought with more fondness than rancor. He knew that when he got home, Alfred would still be awake, attentive and waiting for him. Bruce's double-life took a toll on more people than just himself and it made him love the butler even more to know that he didn't bear this burden alone.
"So we are," April observed, rising gracefully. Heather and Jimmy did the same, giggling to each other as they followed April and Bruce to the door.
Maybe I can convince Jimmy he owes me one for this, Bruce thought mildly. He took April's stole from the maitre d'hotel and wrapped it around her shoulders, smiling at her as he freed her long red hair from the cloak and let it slip through his fingers to her back.
"You know, Bruce," April mused as she took his arm, "I have a friend I'd like you to meet sometime."
"Oh?" Bruce asked idly, motioning for the car.
"Mm," April agreed. "Don't be surprised if you get a call in a few days -- I think the two of you would enjoy each other's company. You have a lot in common."
That piqued Bruce's interest. "May I ask his name?"
"Her name," April said with a smirk, "Is Selina Kyle."
Bruce nodded, tucking the name away in his mind. He wondered if his stories of hell were what had reminded April of her friend, and whether it was lying or hell itself that Selina Kyle had in common with him. Either way, it would be interesting, he felt sure.
"I'll be looking forward to it."
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This is all Alfred's fault, he thought with more fondness than rancor. He knew that when he got home, Alfred would still be awake, attentive and waiting for him. Bruce's double-life took a toll on more people than just himself and it made him love the butler even more to know that he didn't bear this burden alone.
I loved this inclusion of Alfred! Alfred just makes everything better!
And eeep! the end? April introducing Bruce to Selina? Yay for April! And yay for you for writing this! =)
Oh, and I forgot, you must write Bruce and Selina meeting. *nods* Yes, you must! ;D
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I confess, I am more excited to see what they do with Catwoman in this movie franchise than I have been for any of the others. Really.
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Thanks for writing this!
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