Post by Spider-Man Beyond on Mar 18, 2008 8:49:01 GMT -5
By the time Bruce saw the sign welcoming them to Gotham City, he was 65 miles into knowing what he had to do. Dick was right – there was a detonator fused to the box into which Bruce had forced his relationship with Martha. It had a slow timer, but it was sure to go off eventually. Bruce had weathered his share of emotional bombs, but he did not willingly ignite them and he would not stand there and let one consume Martha.
Every possible future he could envision with her in his life was unbearable: If they became lovers, she would soon become miserable, entangled with a tiresome older man and estranged from her family. If they stayed where they were… As sick as Bruce felt imagining Martha reaching out for another man, nothing was as distressing to him as the idea of her wasting years of her life – and possibly her chance at finding real love – waiting for him to change his mind – and Bruce knew that was what she was doing now.
Any kind of personal relationship he had with Martha, he decided, would ultimately harm her. He was going to have to end it tonight.
It was going to be hell and not only because the idea of not having her around him was torment: The woman in the passenger seat next to him clearly had some idea what was coming up and she looked ready for a fight. She was not going to make this easy.
He pulled to the curb outside of her apartment building, rubbed his face with his hand and then turned to her, but Martha was already getting out of the car. He followed, barely managing to grab the front security door before it locked closed behind her. Martha was not moving at super-speed, but she was pretty damn fast. He could not let her escape like this. She was banking on him changing his mind before they saw each other again and she was probably right.
As Martha stood by her front door and rummaged for her keys, Bruce caught up with her and grabbed her arm.
“Look,” he said urgently, and she did, her warm brown eyes merging with his, and suddenly he was kissing her.
There was a bang, which was her handbag falling to the floor, and her arms were wrapping around his neck and she was making those little moans like she had before and this time there was no fighting suit between them.
Bruce felt a slight upward push and realized that Martha had levitated a few inches off the floor so that her much smaller body was molded perfectly to his. He slid his hand down the length of her leg and pulled it around his thigh, moving steadily against her until he had driven her against the corridor wall. She stroked the back of his neck with soft, firm fingers, pulling away from his lips to run kisses along the line of his jaw. He wrapped a hand around the back of her head and guided her mouth back to his. The motion unbalanced Bruce slightly and he reached out with his other hand to steady himself. He did not hear the thump of his palm thrusting against the wall, but a few minutes later, the click of the deadbolt unlocking a few inches from his ear managed to reach him.
Every possible future he could envision with her in his life was unbearable: If they became lovers, she would soon become miserable, entangled with a tiresome older man and estranged from her family. If they stayed where they were… As sick as Bruce felt imagining Martha reaching out for another man, nothing was as distressing to him as the idea of her wasting years of her life – and possibly her chance at finding real love – waiting for him to change his mind – and Bruce knew that was what she was doing now.
Any kind of personal relationship he had with Martha, he decided, would ultimately harm her. He was going to have to end it tonight.
It was going to be hell and not only because the idea of not having her around him was torment: The woman in the passenger seat next to him clearly had some idea what was coming up and she looked ready for a fight. She was not going to make this easy.
He pulled to the curb outside of her apartment building, rubbed his face with his hand and then turned to her, but Martha was already getting out of the car. He followed, barely managing to grab the front security door before it locked closed behind her. Martha was not moving at super-speed, but she was pretty damn fast. He could not let her escape like this. She was banking on him changing his mind before they saw each other again and she was probably right.
As Martha stood by her front door and rummaged for her keys, Bruce caught up with her and grabbed her arm.
“Look,” he said urgently, and she did, her warm brown eyes merging with his, and suddenly he was kissing her.
There was a bang, which was her handbag falling to the floor, and her arms were wrapping around his neck and she was making those little moans like she had before and this time there was no fighting suit between them.
Bruce felt a slight upward push and realized that Martha had levitated a few inches off the floor so that her much smaller body was molded perfectly to his. He slid his hand down the length of her leg and pulled it around his thigh, moving steadily against her until he had driven her against the corridor wall. She stroked the back of his neck with soft, firm fingers, pulling away from his lips to run kisses along the line of his jaw. He wrapped a hand around the back of her head and guided her mouth back to his. The motion unbalanced Bruce slightly and he reached out with his other hand to steady himself. He did not hear the thump of his palm thrusting against the wall, but a few minutes later, the click of the deadbolt unlocking a few inches from his ear managed to reach him.
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