Thank you so much to everyone keeping track of this ficin spite of my awful sporadic updating. I want to tell you guys/gals how much I appreciate and cherish each and every one of your reviews. I truly do. This chapter has been in fact finished for a over a week now but I had some internet issues which just added to my already super late update and so I'm posting it here just now. Sorry!

I hope you all enjoy it, and remember; any comment, criticism or correction will be appreciated since this fic is unbetaed.

OoOoO

Chapter VIII: Where Tony's silence gives answer to Bruce's inquiries.

He returned five days later. Except this time was different.

Unlike his previous visits made during the late morning and early afternoon, it was past ten p.m. when he arrived to the place this time. He also ditched the flashy and expensive late models attempting to look inconspicuous, and was driving a nondescript dark Ford he had bought a few months after his return, intended only for his nightly activities, back before Lucius had shown him the Tumbler.

Bruce had parked a couple of blocks away from the already closed coffee shop, -only close enough to have a moderately good view of the place- car largely shielded by the never ending shadows of Gotham city.

This was not the first time he was back since his last visit, though. Not after the way his last conversation with Tony had gone. He had lurked around the place for the past five nights, looking for the right moment to approach. Meaning, a moment where the other man was left alone in the coffee shop.

He knew better than anyone else the need to run and leave your life behind. So even if he was determined and eager to get the answers he was looking for, he wasn't going to jeopardize the other man's secret by simply storming in there in the middle of the day and speaking out loud without caring who else heard.

He wasn't even sure what Miss Potts involvement in this was or how much she knew, so approaching while she was close had not been an option either. And he couldn't very well drop by the other man's apartment, even if he knew where it was and the exact number. He was only an air-headed billionaire, after all.

No that any of it mattered any longer. He had watched Miss Potts leave the coffee shop only fifteen minutes ago, finally allowing him a chance to act.

Still, he waited, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel without taking his eyes away from the front of the coffee shop. The place still had a soft dim light inside, visible through the shutters at the windows and door. His cell phone rang in the silence of the car.

"Alfred." He answered simply, having checked the caller's ID.

"I have done as you requested, Master Bruce." Behind his words, Bruce could hear the oddly soft murmur of conversation from the people around Alfred, confirming the butler's words.

"Did you find a good place to wait?"

"It is acceptable, sir."

"Good. Wait twenty minutes before coming and call once you're here."

"I thank you for the reminder, Master Bruce. After all, you just called to tell me the details this evening." Bruce snorted, lips twitching upward ever so slightly. He had known Alfred for so long that he didn't need to see the older man's face to know the exact expression on his face right now. "Are you certain this is the way you should proceed, sir."

Lips pressed together, Bruce turned his head to look through the window. His eyebrows were drawn together. "I need answers, Alfred."

"Of course you do, sir." Alfred answered, a touch of fond exasperation in his voice. "I'm merely expressing my concern regarding if your chosen approach to obtain such answers is the best."

"I though you said I should talk more to people."

"I assure you, Master Bruce, in no moment was I suggesting you go in there and proceed to interrogate the poor man."

The corner of Bruce's lips twitched slightly. "Well, I'm open to any suggestions, Alfred. Unless you think getting a blood sample to analyze is better than simply going in and asking him point blank."

"While I'm certain you have devised a fine plan to accomplish just that, Master Bruce, I must assure you it is not your chosen method I'm questioning, but rather the success of it."

"What do you mean?" Bruce questioned, darting his eyes back to the coffee shop.

"Well sir, I believe your own unwillingness to share details about your whereabouts during your lengthy absence would lead you to consider that perhaps the lad might not be as further coming about sharing private information to a total stranger just because he's asked to do so."

"It's not the same. I didn't create an airtight fake identity and settle into that life as if it were my own for years."

"Of course not, sir. You merely infiltrate and formed part of several criminal organizations, going as far as ending up in jail due to the illicit activities you performed while in them. And of course you trained with a mysterious group of assassins in a monastery at the top of a mountain, which then you proceed to burn to ashes."

"I was in jail once, and only because I let myself get caught. I could have escaped at any time, too."

"Of course, sir. My mistake."

Bruce snorted softly, turning to look through the window as a car drove by going in the opposite direction. The muted murmur of people's chatter at Alfred's end filled the comfortable silence they fall into.

"You can relax, Alfred. I'm not planning to hang him from the edge of a building until he tells me what I want to know. You have my word."

"That is a relief, sir. I feared it would have been extremely difficult to explain Bruce Wayne using such methods."

"Of course," Bruce said dryly. "Besides, I don't need a verbal answer from him. His simple reaction when I ask will suffice."

"Will it now, sir." Alfred pronounced archly. "Is it not possible that, perhaps, a confirmation of your suspicions would merely increase your interest in that man and his private life."

Bruce said nothing to that. He was unwilling to acknowledge the truth in Alfred's words, even if they both know the butler was right. He always was. Bruce hadn't let himself think about what would happen after tonight's confrontation -no matter the outcome- and he wasn't going to start now.

He cleared his throat. "I need to go in."

"Of course. Good luck, sir."

"Thanks, Alfred." Bruce said. "See you soon."

He stuffed his smartphone back into the breast pocket of his jacket only to slump in his seat, scrubbing a hand over his face. His patrol hours had been pushed back for almost a week now just so he could be here, and now that the opportunity for him to finally act had presented he couldn't simply leave. It wasn't an option.

With a sigh he turned on the engine of the car, driving three blocks pass the coffee shop and then turning it off again. He climbed out of the car before he could start thinking too much again, and started walking back to the coffee shop. He stopped only a couple of feet away from the door, taking a moment to relax his stance and school his features into the already familiar Bruce Wayne mask; with its vapid smile and shallow gaze. Without further delay he came to stand in front of the glass door and knocked.

Hands shoved into the pockets of his pants, Bruce saw the man's figure walking toward him through the semi-transparent steel roller shutter at the door. He lifted a hand to wave, his smile widening as the man paused at the other side, a flash of surprise crossing his face as soon as he saw him up close. It was quickly replaced by caution and narrowed eyes as he saw Tony contemplated whether to open the door or not.

He did pull open the door, though only wide enough to stand between the gap and without an invitation for him to step in. Not that Bruce had been expecting one.

"Wayne."

"Hi."

"We're closed already, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Oh! I did notice, but I'm not here to buy coffee. I was actually on my way home when my car broke down over there." Bruce waved his hand in the direction where he had parked the car. The darkness and distance did a good job of hiding any features of the car; making it impossible to notice it wasn't one of his usual fancy cars.

Tony looked to where Bruce was pointing and then back at him, an eyebrow arched behind his glasses. "Okay. But see, this is a coffee shop not a mechanical workshop. You're supposed to call a tow truck or something."

"Don't worry I already called Alfred to take care of things." Bruce said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

Both of the man's eyebrows were lifted this time. "You called your butler?"

"Of course. I haven't the slightest idea of who I was supposed to call exactly and it's not like I had the phone number with me anyway. Besides, I'm going to need a ride back to the Manor."

"Right. So you have things under control- or your butler does. What do you want then?"

"Well, I've been sitting in my car waiting for Alfred to arrive for a little while now and I got sooo bored you wouldn't believe it. But then I remembered the coffee shop was very close, and seeing the lights still on I though maybe I could come here and ask if you'll mind letting me wait inside until Alfred gets here."

"Alright, you can come in." Tony said after a long moment of silence, a clear touch of reluctance in his face. "But only until I finish here. If your butler hasn't arrived by then you're going to go back to wait in your car."

Bruce snapped his mouth shut with a soft click, forcing a hasty facile smile on his face. After their previous encounters he hadn't been expecting the other man to agree so easily. In fact, he had used the countless hours spent outside the coffee shop those past nights to think of several ways to work around an initial refusal from Tony's part. This was ... unexpected.

Without a word, Tony stepped aside to allow Bruce entrance into the coffee shop. The strong, rich smell of freshly brewed coffee was gone, but he was still able to detected the faint lingering smell of coffee. The chairs had been placed on top of the wooden tables and the lights above them were turned off; the only light in the place coming from the semicircular pendant lamps over the counter.

"You can pull down a chair by yourself, right?" Tony said sardonically after turning around. He walked past him and further inside without waiting for an answer, moving behind the light-colored plywood counter.

Bruce was slightly amused though not really surprised when the other man then proceed to ignore him; busying himself cleaning the espresso machine- or at least it looked to Bruce like he was doing that. Shoving his hands into his pockets again, Bruce proceeded to take advantage of the lack of customers to look around more carefully, in spite of the low light and untidy look of the closed place.

The minimalist look was a comforting mix of modern and traditional decor, undoubtedly adopted after Miss Potts took over the family coffee shop. It gave a fresh look to the place without altering it beyond recognition.

Bruce's eyes were drawn to the large map covering more than half of the pale wall to his left, like they had the first time he had come inside. The outline of the map was very faintly painted, (almost fully unseen) with light blue ink, and inside of it, written with dark peacock blue ink and clean, bold lettering was the word 'coffee' in different languages and sizes. it was artfully done. Beautiful.

The opposite wall was painted in the same light color, but had a couple of pieces of old artwork decorating it instead.

His dark loafers were silent against the stripped floorboards as he slowly walked through the narrow hallway between the tables. Unlike the others, the wall behind the counter was painted in a peacock blue tone, like the lettering of the map. The black chalkboard on the wall had been wiped clean, ready for tomorrow's specials to be written in black and blue chalk.

When he finally reached the counter, he made no attempts to pull down one of the chairs, like the other man had suggested. He was tired of sitting down the whole day; either in the cave, the study in the Manor or the car. Tony had his back to him, and from a cardboard box placed at his side was pulling out bags of different kind of coffee beans to place in the large shelves.

Bruce propped his elbows up on the counter, hands clasped together in front of him as he watched him work in silence for a few minutes. The momentary tautness in the set of his shoulders the only indication the other man noticed the attention.

"Have you worked here long?" The question had been prompted by honest curiosity rather than the cynical part of his brain that only care for solving puzzles and mysteries. It earned him nothing but a flicker of brown eyes.

"A while."

They lapsed into silence once more.

With the coffee bags now displayed on a few of the top shelves besides some porcelain mugs, Tony took the now empty cardboard box and was about to head to the back room when Bruce halted him.

"Do you remember when I first came in here? I told you you looked familiar." Tony didn't turn to face him even then, allowing Bruce to see only the side of his face. "I think I know why."

He grunted in response; a faint, small sound barely audible even in the silence of the empty place. It was not a sign of interest, but something to fill the silence.

"You're Tony Stark."

Bruce had not been expecting a strong reaction, and he wasn't disappointed. He noticed the exact moment Tony tensed; his entire body going rigid only to relax almost instantly. He also caught a glimpse of the tightening of muscles on what little he could see of his face, but only because he had been looking for it.

"Who?" Tony said without turning fully to face him, the expression on his face puzzled with a carefully added touch of amusement. The cardboard box against his chest held like a shield in front of him.

"Tony Stark. The missing son of Howard Stark, owner of Stark Industries." Bruce didn't miss the smallest twitch on Tony's face at the mention of the second name. He wasn't meeting his eyes.

"You honestly think I'm the son of some rich dude."

"I do, yes."

"That makes no sense. You know that, right? I mean, why would a millionaire be here instead of being, I don't know, on some private island somewhere doing nothing but downing martinis or whatever it is millionaires do."

Bruce said nothing for a moment, watching him. His condescending and dry tone was making Bruce's assertion sound ludicrous- and maybe for most people it could be, but he wasn't most people. He was a billionaire too and like Alfred had pointed out, he had willingly spent years among criminals, and had even remained in a prison for six months in the middle of nowhere even though he could have escaped at any given moment or simply called home; letting his money and name get him out of there.

But, in spite of the other man's clear efforts to discredit his statement, he was yet to express a direct denial. In no moment had he stated 'I'm not Tony Stark', but instead had played with the words Bruce had said; implying answers instead of denying Bruce's claims.

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

Tony sighed dramatically, head tilted to the side. "Did you even listen to a word I said?"

"I did."

Bruce held the other man's gaze, taking in the pursed lips and unblinking stare. He was even able to catch a fleeting glimpse of something that looked like resignation in the man's brown eyes, and yet, he was almost sure he wasn't going to admit to being Tony Stark.

Tony opened his mouth to say something else but was stopped by the ringing of Bruce's smartphone. He pulled it out with an apologetic look.

"Hello? Oh, hey Alfred. You're here already? That was fast." He didn't have to pretend to be surprised. "Oh. Right. Can you see the coffee shop on the other side of the street? The one you drove me to the other day? Uh-huh. Yes, I am. Okay, I'll be right out."

"Alfred is outside, so it's time for me to go." Bruce said pocketing his smartphone. "I guess we'll be talking later, Mr. Stark."

Bruce waited. He waited for Tony to burst out laughing. Waited for him to roll his eyes as he declared he wasn't Tony Stark, only to then proceed to say in not so many words how idiot he thought he was for even thinking that.

None of it happened.

Tony stood motionless behind the counter, unblinking eyes meeting Bruce's own without a word and an unreadable expression on his face. Bruce gave a small nod, the corners of his mouth twitching in a faint fleeting smile. The other man's silence was his answer.

Bruce turned around and walked toward the exit. He didn't look back as he reached the door and pulled it open.

The cold breeze hit his skin as soon as he stepped outside, making him shiver and pull jacket tighter around his body. As he walked toward the Rolls Royce parked behind his car, he tried to ignore the little voice in his head asking dryly if he was satisfied now.

It sounded uncannily like Alfred's.

OoOoO

a/n: I'm going to start -like I seem to do everytime I post a new chapter- by apologizing for taking so long to update. The only excuses I have are the ones I already gave you before, which are my procrastinating nature and short attention span when writing. And of course, this time there's the fact this was the chapter of the big reveal (finally!) and so I had to do a lot of tweaking and rewriting all over it until it ended... aceptable. Or at least I hope so!

Anyway, so far, I had been working with a rather general layout of the coffee shop, but as you can see by the details added in this chapter, I finally did my research and spent hours watching pictures of coffee shop to fully recreate this one in my head. I kind of liked it. What do you think?

if you're still sticking up with me through all of this thank you, and I would love to hear what you think so far!