Gods & Monsters | Bruce Wayne

FIFTY NINE - BACK HOME

The sky was grey and mist filled the cold air as thin raindrops veiled the cityscape, tall buildings disappearing into clouds and a mirage of something like the sun turning out to be no more than a departing aircraft's blinking lights.

Harvey was waiting by his car with his hands in his pockets by the arrivals hall of the airport, eyes wide and alert as he scanned the endless stream of people pouring through the doors and jumping into the backseats of taxis or into the arms of lovers with flowers waiting for them.

He was empty handed but there was nothing on earth he could've offered Carla that would've made an ounce of difference anyway, and so he didn't feel bad about not having a bouquet of roses or a sign with her name written on it, the bleakness of the dull sky being a fitting enough welcome all on its own.

He stood with a frown on his lips and a shiver in his bones, brows lifting with intrigue whenever he saw a flash of ebony hair in the crowd. The smile that graced his face when he finally saw Carla pulling her suitcase behind her wasn't forced, it reached his eyes and lit them up electric blue for a brief moment, only to fade just as fast.

Carla smiled too, or at least what could've been considered a smile from her stone features. It was enough for Harvey and he felt some happiness fill him at the sight of his friend before him, though grief washed it away with unforgiving ease.

He didn't say anything when she reached his car, simply opening his arms to her and squeezing her tightly against his chest when she too chose the comfort of an embrace over meaningless words. They held each other for a long moment and Carla pulled her eyes closed, arms tight around Harvey's torso, letting someone else take the weight from her feet that had felt like lead for as long as she could remember.

"I'm glad to see you," he said, hands on her shoulders as he looked down at her, "But I wish it was for a different reason."

Carla just swallowed, eyes dry and empty and cheeks hollow, "Me too."

Harvey lifted her suitcase into the car and drove them into Gotham. His friendship with Carla had still been solid after she'd moved back to Sicily and while he hadn't had chance to visit her overseas because of the troubles in Gotham, it was something he reminded her he would do as soon as he could at the end of every phone call.

Carla talked vividly to him over FaceTime about her life away from the darkness of Gotham and Harvey loved listening to her recall days at the beach or nights in village squares drinking local wine. There was a shine to her face and a radiance about her that she never had in Gotham, the closest look Harvey could remember seeing in her was whenever she was holding the arm of Bruce Wayne.

It was never a mystery that Carla missed Bruce, Harvey could hear it in her voice whenever they'd spoken and seen a sadness cool her eyes through the screen of his phone. She never admitted it and Harvey would never had expected her to, but they both knew it all the same and so even after he uncovered the truth, Harvey did everything he could to bring them back together.

"Is Rachel not around?" Carla said as she walked into Harvey's apartment, shrugging off her coat and lying it over the back of a barstool in the kitchen.

"No," he shook his head and pulled her case behind him, "She's with Alfred. I'll put your case in the spare room."

Carla nodded and walked over to the window. Rain continued to fall and mist settled lower as time ticked on, the darker hours of the evening bringing with it a full moon hidden by thick clouds and an oasis of sparkling stars that nobody in that city would be able to see.

There was suppose to be light, but it seemed like Gotham had never been darker than it was that night.

She stared out at the bright lights of apartments flicking on in small windows and huge towers hoarding the grey with their fluorescent signs while headlights met taillights on every street. Gotham hadn't changed at all, at least it didn't feel like it had and that offered no glimpse of solace, only pouring salt into an already gaping wound.