RP for neverdecaf.

[whydowefall]

The trip to London had been successful. On both fronts--the Wayne Industries business dealings, which had been the cover story, and in locating the informant from whom Batman needed to collect evidence. Batman had come away with a hard drive full of incriminating documents that would bring down a weapons cartel using Gotham's ports; Wayne Industries--with Ianto's brilliant assistance in conducting some of the negotiations--came away poised to buy into some lucrative new biotech offerings.

All in all, things had gone well.

Right up until they were walking across the tarmac at three in the morning, to the jet, to fly home. They'd been jumped--four men, exceptionally skilled in hand-to-hand in a manner that was all too familiar to Bruce. League of Shadows ninjas. Ra's al Ghul's men, a few stragglers still loyal to him after all this time and after their master's death.

It was unfortunate that Bruce wasn't alone, but he couldn't allow that fact to stop him defending himself, and his assistant, who was a mere innocent bystander in all of this. It was possibly even more unfortunate for their attackers than it was for Bruce; the fact that they'd dared to come after him while he had an uninvolved party in tow infuriated him.

He made quick work of half the attackers, though at one point in the scuffle, he felt a knife blade tear through his coat, jacket, and shirt sleeve, gouging into his arm. With two men down, he spun on his heel, prepared to deal with the remaining two.

...Only to find them laid out on the pavement, neatly dealt with, at the feet of his inscrutable personal assistant.

The two of them stood there for a few long moments, gaping at one another.

"We should go," Bruce finally said. "Before someone gets here and finds this. I'd like to... avoid difficult questions, if at all possible."

Though he was sure there was going to be no avoiding the questions Ianto would have. Ianto, however, already was tugging at the back of Bruce's coat, peeling it off. "You're injured, sir, I need to see."

"It's fine."

Ianto stripped off Bruce's jacket and then tore the slash in his shirt sleeve open wider, to inspect the wound. "You need stitches, sir. But taking you to hospital... Well, sir, like you said--let's avoid difficult questions, shall we?"

Ianto stitched the gash himself, on the plane, in silence. He asked for no explanations, for which Bruce was grateful.

But he also offered none.

They'd both dozed off and on the rest of the way home, and endured an awkward drive back to the Tower in the back of the Bentley, neither of them sure what to say in front of Alfred. Or even what to say to one another.

Ianto hadn't asked for an explanation, but by now, Bruce felt he owed him one. And perhaps, he also held out the hope that if he offered one, Ianto might offer one in return. He at least needed to be sure he could rely on Ianto's discretion about what he'd seen, what the two of them had done.

Bruce had dismissed Alfred for the evening, and waited in the penthouse's living room, alone, ready to answer the door himself when Ianto arrived.

Comments

[why-dowefall.livejournal.com]

Bruce nods, eyes fixed on Ianto's face. He's skilled at reading people, and even past Ianto's usual inscrutability, Bruce can sense he's sincere. Ianto's both willing to trust and to be trusted.

He draws in a breath, bringing his interlaced fingers up to his mouth for a moment as he decides the best way to approach this revelation. Then he shrugs, sitting up straight.

"I'm the Batman."

Apparently candor and a complete lack of beating about the bush win the day. Or so Bruce hopes, waiting for Ianto's reaction.

[neverdecaf.livejournal.com]

The only visible reactions that Ianto has to Bruce's news is a slight quirk of an eyebrow and an intake of breath that is louder than usual. He didn't know what he'd expected Bruce to say, but it certainly wasn't that.

"Well, sir, when I think about it, I guess that explains a lot of things," he says after a few moments of silence have passed. "But you should be congratulated on your excellent cover, I don't think I ever would have guessed."

[why-dowefall.livejournal.com]

Bruce can't help but smile a bit at that. "Thank you. Pretending to be a moron certainly does have its uses." He relaxes a little again, leaning back as he adds, "And I worried every day you'd notice. At the very least I figured you'd have me figured out after London. I suppose it's good to know I can fool even those who have to work with me, day in, day out."

He regards the other man thoughtfully for a few seconds, unclasping his fingers so he can rub his chin. "I guess the next question is, knowing that, do you still want to stay on board?"

[neverdecaf.livejournal.com]

Ianto nods. "That will depend on how you feel about wanting me to stay on board after you hear what I have to say."

"In London, before I moved to Gotham, I wasn't a personal assistant. I've really never had a normal job like that before at all," he says. "I was-- well, technically I still am-- an officer of her Majesty's Secret Service."

[why-dowefall.livejournal.com]

Bruce's eyebrows go up in surprise. "You're what?" he asks, blinking. "Well. Ah. Sorry. It's not that I have a problem with it, or you. Far from it, Ianto. I just wasn't expecting that."

His hands come together again, and he presses them lightly to his lips, thinking, his gaze drifting for a moment. A British intelligence officer. That certainly made some things make a hell of a lot more sense. His brow furrowed slightly, and he cast a questioning glance over at Ianto.

"Okay. I have to ask. I assume there was a vetting process? How the hell did I manage to pass muster?"

[neverdecaf.livejournal.com]

Ianto can't help but smile at that. "Sir, don't be offended, but I haven't had you vetted. I mean, I've thought about it, but I thought it would probably be better if I left it. So, I'm sure you'll understand how important it is that no one knows that I've told you, just in case."

[why-dowefall.livejournal.com]

"That's a relief," Bruce replies. "I'm sure I can withstand the scrutiny of the press, the local authorites, and so forth, but the intelligence-gathering community with the full backing of an entire government? That might get a bit difficult. So, please, don't apologize. And I won't betray your confidence. You have my word on that, Ianto."

There's another thoughtful silence, and then Bruce asks, "So what was your specific talent, in the service? What did you do?"

[neverdecaf.livejournal.com]

"And you have my word on your secret too, sir." Ianto leans back in his seat, more relaxed now that he's managed to share his secret with Bruce.

"I was with the counter-terrorism unit," he answers. "I don't know about specific talent, but I used to like being in the field on operations."

[why-dowefall.livejournal.com]

Bruce nods, impressed. "Counter-terrorism. We could've used you a year and a half ago, when Crane set loose that fear gas. Weaponized hallucinogenic toxins," he explains. "Remind me to get you inoculated, just in case."

He's weighing options again, studying his assistant carefully. "I could always use some backup," he offers, almost cautiously. "It might not exactly be being in the field, but it might be damn close. Are you interested?"

[neverdecaf.livejournal.com]

Ianto doesn't really know what to say to that. The point of him coming here to Gotham was to get away from the service and all the reminders of Lisa that inevitably came from working on the grid. If he was completely honest with himself, he was missing the parts of his old job that had attracted him to it in the first place. Saying yes to Bruce might be good for him.

"I think I'd like that," he says. "Thank you."

[why-dowefall.livejournal.com]

Bruce nods, smiling. "Great. It's not something we have to settle right this minute. We can take some time for it. I can show you what I do, what I have at my disposal, how it all works. We can figure out how you'd best fit."

He waits for a couple of beats, and then his smile widens. "Don't worry, though. I promise I won't make you wear a cape or any kind of costume. Unless you're into that kind of thing, and then who would I be to argue?" he asks, deadpan, though his eyes are gleaming a bit mischeviously.