He’d ran through burning buildings with kids strapped to his chest. The flames licked at his wounds, crackling around him like smoke. He was no stranger to pain. After all Jason hadpractically raised himself before Bruce came in. Hell, he’d been brought back from the dead!
“So a little stomach pain,” Jason said, glaring at his reflection, “isn’t gonna slow me down.”
Synopsis : Two years ago, you were “saved” by the vigilante they know called “The Batman” from joining up with a gang. At the time, you saw this as the only escape from the tough life you lived down in Gotham’s slums. But he beat up those who wanted to recruit you and a bunch of other lost kids, and changed your perception of life. You started to train to become a cop, wanting to help better the city. Wanting to tackle the corruption right at its core. Ah, to be a youngster full of dreams
TW : mention of cheating, and there’s a NSFW scene. 18+, minors do not interact. Some The Batman spoilers. Strong language. Violence.
For real, if you are underaged, or uncomfortable with this kind of content this story isn’t for you . I have many SFW work available for you to read over on my masterlists blog :@ella-ravenwood-archives. Please. This is smut with feelings and an actual story, but still it iz wat it iz. Be aware of that (I will also mark it once it’s coming in the story, to be fully safe).
“Crimes are always the highest in poor neighborhoods”, said an article you once read, when you were in high school, in your “current event” class. It made you chuckle, as you looked around you and saw a decrepit “school” full of teachers afraid of their students, and students terrified of their teachers.
You know what was even scarier ? The fact that so many of you just decided that : “that’s just how it is”, and settled to have a life of misery, fighting every day for survival down in Gotham’s slums.
No change had happened in such a long time, every single person living under the line of poverty just decided to live with the fact it was never goingtochange. And that’s an awful thing to think about. At the same time, if you expect nothing from life, you can only be pleasantly surprised, right ?
Yeah. No. Because even when you expect nothing, a place like Gotham City always had “surprises” that you definitely could do without. Like the local mafia taking hold of the neighborhood’s electricity, and you had to pay them to keep the heater on. And in Gotham in winters ? Saying it was cold was an euphemism. It was either finding the money, or freezing to death in your room.
Finding money.
Was this life ? A perpetual fight to keep your head above the water, to be able to eat at least a meal a day ? What a nightmare.
Naturally, as you grew up, you slowly drifted more and more towards a world you never thought would be yours. A world in which there was “easy money”.
Crime.
It felt like it was the only exit to misery, in certain part of Gotham. Joining up a gang, it was indeed easy money and protection, you know ? Not very enviable, yet it really felt for many young people down in the worst places of the city like it was their only escape.
A chance to become someone, and to actually live, even if it meant getting your hands dirty.
It was either that, or turning into shells of people. Like their parents. Like your parents. Working their asses off every day, not earning enough money, living in unsanitary conditions with a rent too high for those shitty apartments, and literally risking your life every day by simply going outside.
There were areas in Gotham that were “no go zones” for anyone who could avoid them. The Bowery, The Narrows…Dirty, slender places with flickering lights at night, and too many dark alleyways you best not venture in.
Your very own Skid Row. The West coast definitely didn’t have to envy you on that point…Hey, at least you had a roof over your head, you know ? What a grim silver lining. Your room was leaking when it rained anyway…
What were your options, really ? You didn’t want to survive, you wanted to live. What was the point of merely going through days with no hope, nor sun ?
That’s when you saw him for the first time. At the deepest of your despair for a better future. And he “saved” you from making the worst mistake of your life.
************
You were about to reach a point of no-return. To join up with a notorious small local gang, affiliated with the Maroni Family. You hadn’t been able to pay for college, and were working three shitty job to keep you afloat.
What were your options, really ?
You saw what this city did to your parents. And to so many people around you.
You were not about to end up like them. Grinded to the core, turned into a “zombie”, barely living really.
You suddenly finally understood that article you read all those years ago. Of course crime would be more proficient in poor neighborhood. People had nothing to lose, and sometimes joining up with what most viewed as bad people were their only way to have a “family”, a community, a support they wouldn’t have otherwise…This was why gangs were so appealing to disadvantage kids. Such as yourself.
It was a double edged sword, of course. Sure, joining a gang seemed appealing in many ways, but you knew you’d have to leave part of your humanity at the door. And at this point, you were ok with this. Because living in Gotham City’s slums already made you feel barely human anyway.
You were now in an alley, and everyone could guess what was about to happen. An initiation. New comers in a gang that plagued the city, yet the only escape for many of them.
And here you were. And here He was, too.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The hell was this noice ? Where did it came from ?
The dark. This dark that always instilled fear into your heart, because you never knew what was in it.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Boots on the floor ? Yes. And…who the hell was this dude ?!
“It’s not Halloween yet, you freak. Get going or you’ll be in trouble.”
You always found the boss of this gang intimidating. Scary. And boy you definitely didn’t want to be that weirdo disguised as- what was it ? A bat ? What a freak indeed. He was going to get his ass-
What the actual fuck.
Beaten to a pulp in a few seconds, and it wasn’t the one you were betting on. That bat-guy got rid of the boss in a few punches. Hard punches, and the sound of his jaw breaking made you shiver.
Quickly, the others started to attack him, and he got rid of all of them with apparent ease. Who was this guy ??
Then, he turned to you. You and the other “kids” who were about to have your initiation (a scar on your harm in the form of a crow, thanks god Batman came before you endured that, because it was something you could never get rid of once it was branded on you..) just stared at him.
And then, they all ran away. Except for you. Because you felt mesmerized by this dude, who just dropped in, beat everyone, took their guns, and…He was leaving now.
Your eyes crossed his, for a few seconds. It was clear he had no intention to fight you or your friends, he just came to beat the gang up (probably had it coming). And that’s when it clicked in your head.
How could you think that joining the very problem would make anything better ? When did you lose hope so much, that you thought being part of a gang, the very thing that made Gotham City such a terrible place to live in, was a good idea ?
In that short time your eyes crossed the Batman’s, you felt a resolve in his look that you’ve never seen before. This. This was someone who wanted change.
This was someone who wanted to make an impact.
It inspired you. Greatly. You really hoped that one day, you could see him again so you could tell him he was the reason you made a drastic decision that night.
************
At first, it wasn’t easy. Finding the money, working two jobs while following classes…But in the end, it wasn’t actually that hard to join the force.
Who would’ve thought becoming a cop was so easy ? Shouldn’t they have more training ? Maybe that was why so many of them were so trigger happy…
You still believed there were good cops though. And you were motivated to become one. To help better this city, truly. And to stand up for what was right.
You obviously couldn’t become a night vigilante. But you could try to make this place a better one, from the inside. You had ambition. You had will. Motivation.
You were going to be part of the change.
************
Was the only good cop in Gotham city Jim Gordon ?????
You knew this city was wretched to the core, but to that extend ? You never imagined it. You kept being assigned to new partners, as you adamantly refused any sort of corruption. You knew at some point, they would try to get rid of you. That they were going to make sure you’d get a desk job, or worst.
Thanks god for people like James Gordon, who still believed in what a “cop” was supposed to be. Those were so few.
Corruption, racial profiling, use of excessive force, bribes to look the other way or to scare someone…
Every flaw you could think of in a cop ? You could find them in way too many officers of the GCPD. But you held on. Because you had renewed hope. And this was a hard thing to kill, especially in young minds.
Gordon was working with the Batman, who was highly disliked amongst the police rank (for obvious reason, he beat up his share of dirty cops…oh the satisfaction you had when you saw one of your “colleague” come back to the station with a broken nose, and keeping himself in line for a while because he was too afraid of the dark knight).
You really wanted to take part in everything, to help out. But Jim was afraid you were too eager, and that it would get you into trouble.
Into danger.
And, to be fair…He was absolutely right.
************
If someone would have told you a few weeks ago that you’d save the goddamn Batman, you probably would have laughed in their faces. After two years on the force not seeing even his shadow, you kinda lost hope of seeing him for real again (unless you turned to crime again).
And yet, it happened. And it was fucking awesome.
************
He was fighting a bunch of thugs in a back alley, when you came by. You weren’t even gonna intervene, you knew the man, he could definitely handle himself…But then, you noticed one of the guy he was fighting taking a few steps back, and drawing a gun. It was pointed right at the bat’s head and he was going to pull the trigger in a matter of seconds !
You didn’t think, you acted. You jumped in the alley, surprising all of them, and with an expertly done high kick (or so you thought, truth was, it was wobbly and you almost dislocated your hip), you got the gun out of the man’s hand, knocking him down with a mean left hook. Damn, you turned into a total badass under the adrenaline ! You were super proud of yourself.
Your hand was definitely broken. You didn’t even feel it.
Batman quickly got rid of the last few thugs, and turned to you. Suddenly, you didn’t feel that excited anymore, the man was impressive. So tall. Large. Muscular. Yeah ok, he was totally sexy, even the little bit of face you could see was appealing.
You shook your head, no wasn’t the time. But damn.
He turned his gaze on you (was the dude wearing a massive amount of eyeliner around his eyes ??), and, with a low voice that made your knee weak (or was it the adrenaline wearing off and your body realizing it was hurt ? Excuses excuses), asked you :
“Are you alright ? This was very foolish to jump in like that, I didn’t need your help. You could have been ”
“Yeah I’m alright” you said, and then added, quite annoy at that dude you technically should’ve arrested anyway : “And like Hell you didn’t need my help, I totally saved your life just now ! You should learn to be more thankful !”
“…”
“Wow. Ok. So you’re an ass. It’s true what they say, don’t meet you hero and all that.”
“The ass can give you a ride to the nearest hospital, you’re bleeding.”
“What ?”
He pointed to your arm, and…oh. Yeah. You got shot. Damn.
“I didn’t even feel it…”
“Must be the rush of epinephrine in your blood. Come on, follow me.”
You did. What else could you do ? You were starting to feel a little weak, as the “epinephrine” was slowly going away. And a weak cop in Gotham City’s street ? Felt like you wouldn’t see the sun rise.
“Wow. The fuck is that ?”
His vehicle was…peculiar, to say the least. You’ve never seen something like that. It didn’t really feel safe.
“My car. Hop in. And do not touch anything.”
You had a few seconds of hesitation and then thought : “Eh, what could go wrong anyway ?” Famous last word…although for once, nothing bad actually happened.
He drove you to the nearest hospital, without saying a word, and almost threw you out of the car. Ass.
Your wound wasn’t deep, a bullet just grazed you and you only needed a few stitches. And a cast on your hand. You were out two hours later. You went home by foot, because walking always cleared your mind, and damn it needed to be cleared right now.
You just saved the Batman ! YOU JUST SAVE THE BATMAN !!
He didn’t even say anything about you calling him your “hero”, but he definitely was ! Ever since that night he saved you from joining up a gang. Did he remember you ? Probably not. Why would he anyway ? It was so long ago, and you were just another face amongst many.
After a quick shower, you were finally calm, and decided to do some laundry, as your small apartment’s floor was littered with dirty clothes. While emptying your pockets, you found a note in the pants you were wearing today.
“Thank you for saving my life,
- The Ass who drove you to the hospital (or “Your hero”, pick one)”
Ha. A thank you note. How lame. And yet, you kept the little piece of paper, because you felt it wasn’t every day that the famous Dark Knight (made even more famous recently when he saved many during Gotham’s flood, and foiled The Riddler’s plan) wrote thank you notes, and it was a collectible.
************
After that, you ended in Batman’s way a lot. You weren’t doing it on purpose. Not at all. You decided to be a cop because you wanted to help people, and not because you had a death wish. Constantly getting in the way of criminals and Batman wasn’t really in your intentions. And yet, it seemed Destiny really wanted you guys to work together, because every time you were on patrol (you mostly took night shift…I wonder why), your pass crossed the Bat.
On the dock, while a drug deal was going on. You saved him again, but, to be fair, he also saved you after you got knocked out and fell into the freezing water of Gotham’s bay. Another ride in the bat mobile, another silent trip, and another note : “Thanks, but you also owe me one. I hope I won’t see you again.” Wow. Ok. Ass.
In front of the most famous bank in Gotham, during a robbery. You saved the hostages while Batman was kicking some ass. This time, no hospital, and no notes either, just a nod from him, and many thanks from the people you saved.
************
“(Y/N), please. Stop this.”
“Stop what, exactly ?”
You knew what Gordon was talking about. But pretending not to was funner.
“You know what I’m talking about. You just like to pretend you don’t to have a little laugh.” Oh a always so attentive. You smirk at him, and he sighs deeply before saying :
“Please. We’re still so few not corrupted, even after what happened with The Riddler. I would hate to lose someone like you.”
“Listen Jim, I appreciate the concern, but I can handle myself.”
“I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t be worried. Plus you have to admit it’s quite a “coincidence” you always get yourself in trouble like that.”
It was, quite a coincidence. Except, not really.
“I’m just doing my job. You know I answer calls ignored by…Some of us.”
“Yes…Just. Please. I couldn’t bear to lose another of the good ones.”
He was referring to just last week, when one of your colleague you knew was clean was found dead in a ditch. With absolutely no lead about who killed him…Of course, you and Gordon had your suspicions that it was an inside job, as he was handling a rather delicate affair that got filed away.
************
In the sewer, going after Killer Croc. Granted, it was a terrible idea, his threat was still unknown and new, and from what you heard the “man” was terrifying. And yet. You and Batman took him down. Well. To be fair, Batman did. You just served as bait…ugh, what an asshole. Well. At least it worked. Again, no hospital nor notes, but a smirk on his face, and a “see you later ?”.
It just kept happening, wherever you went during your patrol, wherever you were called on, he was there. It became a habit. He already knew thanks to Jim Gordon that having someone valuable and trustworthy in the police was helpful, so another “good one” ? Yes please. You found that having the Batman on your side was FUCKING helpful. No matter what some of your superiors would say (you still hadn’t been assigned a new partner, something recurrent with good cops according to Gordon…after all, when you were alone, you had more risk of ending up dead with no one taking your back), the Batman was a blessing for this city.
************
Bruce couldn’t quite explain it, but he found himself irrevocably attracted to you…He tried to resist, because in his line of work, there was no place for a relationship (his sad encounter with Selina Kyle, and how it ended too soon was proof enough). But you were so brave, beautiful, optimistic, intelligent (you had so many flaws he couldn’t even see)…And one day, he found himself “meeting you for the first time”, “randomly” while you were going home from work (and him from his nightly patrol).
Alfred is the one that convinced him. A woman like you, fighting so fiercely for your city’s safety, and not judging one bit his Batman persona (except that you still thought he was kind of an ass) ? Well, you didn’t find a woman like that at each street’s corner. Unlike Selina, you had no intention of ever leaving Gotham, no matter how tough life was in it. And, didn’t Bruce deserve happiness ? He thought he could never have it again, but when he was around you…
Yes. Alfred could be very convincing. Bruce had to give it a try. And what could he loose if it wasn’t working out ? (Everything. The answer was everything, but he didn’t know that for now, he wasn’t in love yet).
And so, as Bruce Wayne, he wooed you…and you couldn’t help but fall for his charming ways. Who would’ve thought that the “most eligible bachelor in Gotham”, who barely showed his face and who constantly looked like a depressed puppy, could be so appealing ? Smart, sexy, funny ? And most of all, he shared your dream. Very recently, Bruce Wayne had come back in Gotham’s scene, and decided to use his money for good, like his parents did. After the Renewal debacle, and what The Riddler uncovered, Bruce said that it was time for him to continue his parents’ legacy.
How could you a guy like that ?
************
At night, you fought by the Caped Crusader’s side, sometimes getting injured, but it would never be life threatening. He would never let you be in a life threatening situation anyway…He made sure the cases you helped him on required mostly brain work, and few fightings. And when fights there was, he always kept an eye on your back. Against his better judgement, he started to fall for you…And you for him.
By day, whenever he had a day off, or even a few hours free in the afternoon (as you were sleeping late in the morning, you know, night shifts…and that was good, because him too was sleeping late), you were with him too. Only, you didn’t know it was him. For you, it was Bruce Wayne. And you felt guilty that you slowly started to fall in love with him too…Fuck, in what mess did you got yourself, falling in love with a night vigilante, and a billionaire philanthropist ?
************
Another six months passed, and things were going great. The Batman seemed to trust you, which was something right ? You’ve been helping him (whether he wanted it or not) for the past year, and that got you a promotion as a detective. How fucking awesome was that ?
You knew James Gordon had something to do with it too. He was your mentor, after all. And after The Riddler’s debacle and how the police department’s corruption went public, he gained more and more power amongst the force.
Oh, and you started to date Bruce Wayne seriously. Like, it was official. There was pictures of you two in the paper and all, and he didn’t deny you being his girlfriend. On the contrary. It felt great to be the one who caught the great Bruce Wayne’s heart. You still wondered what he saw in you though, the first time you met you were coming back from work, without any make-up and disheveled, highly unattractive…and yet, you ended up giving him your number. Incredible.
Little did you know that he fell for you while under the Batman’s cowl…but of course, could only make his move as Bruce Wayne.
************
You were a bit more tired than usual that night, and so, a bit distracted.
You didn’t see those men jumping out of a dark place to corner you. Ah. You recognized some of them. They were all masked, but their eyes couldn’t lie. You saw the hate in them, and you knew they were some of your police officer “friends”. The dirty one.
There was still a lot of work to do, to clear the GCPD fully of its “bad apples”. Especially when their methods of getting rid of the good ones were more drastic. It was easier to get rid of someone literally, killing them, than to slowly work at dismantling this rotten and rotting system.
That night, the Batman wasn’t fast enough to stop them from hurting you pretty badly.
Damn it. He did start to track you after a while (as most sane person do, of course…). He always kept an eye on you, although he couldn’t be everywhere. It seemed you were a magnet for trouble anyway.
The rest of the night went by in a blur. You had terrible nightmares. Of Bruce getting badly hurt. Of the Batman dying. Pain gave you hallucinations you honestly could’ve live without…
When you finally came to your senses, you saw the Bat’s face first, and you couldn’t stop yourself from hugging him. In your hazy mind, too hurt Safe. He was safe. Everything was in your head. He hugged you back…
************
And so, that’s how you found yourself in the bat cave, your tongue in the goddamn Batman’s mouth, his hand slipping under your shirt. You couldn’t deny anymore that there was some sort of attraction between him and you, and he…Well, he was also Bruce, and kissing you was just a habit of his. He just forgot that you didn’t know who he really was…
But his way of kissing you, of touching you, reminded you of your Bruce…it was impossible however, you must be wrong. Anyway, Bruce was on a business trip in France. And he wouldn’t have lied to you. They wouldn’t have lied to you.
And suddenly, you felt awfully guilty. Your tongue and the Dark Knight’s were wrestling each other, and all you could think about was your boyfriend. You pulled away, and took his hand out of your shirt.
“Hum…”
“Is something wrong ?”
“…Yes. I can’t do that. I…I’m in a steady relationship right now and…Well, I love him.”
“Ah. Bruce Wayne ?”
“Your benefactor.”
“Yeees…”
It was awkward, you had to leave. He understood, and drove you to your apartment. In silence. When you existed the car though, you almost thought you saw him smile. Not just a smirk, a full on smile, and somehow, this smile reminded you of someone, you just couldn’t pinpoint who (years later, you still wondered why you didn’t recognized that jawline ! Maybe it was because their behavior were so widly different, that it seemed impossible for you that Bruce was also Batman…Lois Lane would make you feel better about all that, because for the same reason, she didn’t recognized Clark for years and honestly, wtf ?)
You said your goodbyes, and that was that. Well. A chapter of your life was over. And you just couldn’t be that bummed out with Bruce in it…You just wished the Batman would have his place in too.
************
A few days passed, and you avoided Batman. It was better like that. You took care of other things at night. It was better like that. So why your heart kept tightening whenever you thought about never seeing him again ?
Bruce’s hand slipping in yours got you out of your daydreams, and erased any worries. No. It was better like that. You and the Batman would have no future, but you and Bruce ? Things could happen. Right ?
“Hey you.”
“Hey, I missed you.”
“You were only gone for…what, three days ?”
“When every day without you feels like a year.”
“Oh you motherfucker, so cheesy.”
Bruce’s personality slowly unfolded in front of you. And in front of the public, too. He used to be recluse, refused to speak to reporters etc. Now, he was more open, and involved in Gotham life (the Riddler’s misadventures made him realize he needed to keep an eye on Gotham’s finances, to follow his parents’ legacy, and that Gotham needed Bruce Wayne as much as it needed Batman, if not more).
“You love it.”
“Maybe…Come here my Bruce.”
His kisses were the best. Soft or rough, tender or hungry…They were just the best. The flash of a camera cruelly brings the both of you back to reality.
“Damn fucking paparazzis…” you growled.
Ever since he finally came back in the public eyes, it felt like they never left him alone (Bruce used this at his great advantage, making sure his picture would be taken while the “Batman” (really, thanks Alfre) was out). But it really bothered you.
“You’ll have to get used to them if…”
“If ?”
“…If you’re as seriously involved in this relationship than I am. Because no matter what I can do, paparazzis always follow me. Comes with the package of being a Wayne…”
“Oh.”
“Oh ?”
“If it comes with the package, then so be it.”
And you went back to kiss him…until another flash almost blinded you.
“Let’s get out of here, ok ?”
“I thought you’d never say it.”
You took his hand, and guided him with you through Gotham city’s street to your apartment. It was definitely official now. Bruce Wayne had a steady girlfriend. He was taking walks with her, hands in hands, very publicly. It was on the headline of every newspaper the next day, with a picture of you two, looking ridiculously happy, walking hands in hands down the streets.
************
This night was going to be the night. You weren’t working, and Bruce said he could stay with you.
This night was going to be the night. The night you were going to sleep with him for the first time. You made him wait, just to be sure he was serious, and he wasn’t considering you like another random conquest (a background of womanizing behavior suddenly emerged, along with many tabloid articles about his past, when he was away from Gotham). But you waited enough, tonight…Was gonna be thenight.
You were still scared shitless though. What if he left you after that ? What if you guys weren’t actually as serious as you thought ?
As he was sitting on your couch, you straddling him, his tongue in your mouth, those thoughts plagued your mind. He felt something was wrong, and pulled away from you.
“What is it ?”
The concern in his voice…Too sexy. A moment of silence went by, and then you replied :
“What are we doing Bruce ?”
“Well, I was hum…kissing you I believe.”
You roll your eyes. This was a side of Bruce you discovered along the way. That guy could be quite cheeky, when he wanted to.
“I’m not talking about that, I mean…”
“What do you mean ?”
“What are we ?”
“I thought you already knew what we were.”
“If I ask the question it means I’m not so sure no ?”
“I guess so…Well, what do you wanna be ?”
“I asked first.”
“Oh ok, so if you don’t think the same thing than me, I’m gonna be the one with a broken heart…Alright, well, here we go. I never wanted anyone in my life as bad as I want you. Here. I said it.“
This was a part, you found later, you could see in Batman too. His quick retort, right to the point. But for now, you didn’t know the truth quite yet.
“Oh…”
“Oh ?”
//THIS IS WHERE THE SMUT STARTS. PLEASE AGAIN, 18+ ONLY//
Your mouth crashing on his was an answer enough. You whispered in his ear how important he was to you too, without using the words “I love you”, still not ready, while your hands were opening the button of his dress shirt in a frenzy. His strong arms wrapped around you, and once again, you couldn’t help but be surprised at how buff he was. The man was working out a lot…His muscles were probably as big as Batman’s ! Wait, stop. You couldn’t think about Batman right now, only Bruce was important. Because it was true, you did love him. But…No but. Only Bruce.
His hands slipping under your shirt were enough for only him to occupy all of your thoughts. To fill you with lust and want. His shirt was off, and you dragged your nail on his well toned chest. Again, the man was working out. A lot. His calloused (why did he have calloused hand ? As far as you were concerned, his job was mostly signing paperwork and participating in boring conferences…) palm wrapped around your waist, and squeezed. Not enough to hurt, not even enough to leave marks, and that wouldn’t do. Your mouth left his, and he whined a bit (oh, that sound), but when he felt your tongue gently licking his neck, sucking on his pulse point, he kinda lost control. His hand tightened their grip, now it was enough to make some marks. Perfect.
He tore away your shirt, ripping it to pieces.
“That was my favorite shirt.”
“No it wasn’t, you were wearing your favorite shirt the day before yesterday, I’m guessing it’s in the laundry right now.”
“Buzzkill.”
“I certainly hope not.”
And your bra was off. Has any man worshipped your breast as good as him ? Probably not. His mouth and hands made you feel like a goddess.
“I havent-”
He stumbles on his words a bit, and you look at him, curious. You knew what he was going to say, of course. But who said you couldn’t toy with him a little ? His fake bravado vanished as you looked at him, waiting for him to admit it.
“I haven’t done it in a long time…”
Ah. Here it was. And was this really a problem ? No.
“It’s okay my Bruce, just…let it go. Follow the flow. I’m sure you’ll manage.”
You wink somewhat mischievously, kind of amused at his revelation. Not in a mocking way, but because…You already knew. That man was always busy. And he lived far from everyone for so long. So, yeah, sex was definitely not on his list in the past few years, you had an inkling of that.
And how, you were right. You didn’t know yet he was the Batman of course…but yes. Bruce hadn’t think of “doing it” in quite a while. It’s only when you kissed him so passionately, that a fire build inside him. He realized though, it was useless to pretend he was the “sex machine” tabloids pretended he was when they speculated on his whereabouts when he left Gotham…
And he wanted this to go right. To treat you right, and to be honest ? To be treated right, too.
“It’s all going to be okay. Just let it go.”
Your fingers went to caress his back, and with clumsy movements, he removed your pants and panties, laying you down on your couch, placing himself over you. Your fingers deftly unmade his belt and threw it somewhere in your small apartment, to then undo his button and zipper, and poof, fancy that, his pants were off too. You could clearly see the outline of his dick through his boxers and fuck he was hard…it aroused you more than ever.
He trailed kisses from your forehead to your lips, down your jaw, your neck, collar bone, breast, stopping there to lick softly at your nipple, flicking the other one with warm fingers. And then he kept going, until he reached your thigh…He wasn’t going where you wanted however, kissing everywhere but the point where you were burning up. He must have left a hundred love bites on you that night, and you couldn’t care less. Your police uniform would cover all of them anyway, and you hoped to God that he wasn’t going to invite you anywhere where wearing a dress was required in the next few days.
You took a grip of his hair, and guided him where you wanted. Taking control of the moment. You felt him smile on your skin, but damn, you hated being teased. One hand on each thigh, he spread your legs open, and looked back up to you. Fuck, eye contact was such a turn on, you were pretty sure you never got that wet ever in your life before. He noticed, two fingers running gently up and down your fold…And then, without warning, his tongue was inside you. Flicking, swirling, his nose rubbing against your clit. You never felt anything like it. What the Hell was that ? How could he make you feel so good so fast ? You came before you had time to say : “Bruce Wayne is a champ at oral”, and you were almost embarrassed that you orgasmed that fast. But damn, what that man could do with his tongue…
He kissed his way back up, licking his lips off of your arousal, and you caught his mouth with yours again.
You wanted to return the favor, you wanted to make him feel good too, but when you grabbed his erection through his boxers, and started to rub lightly, he caught your wrist and pinned it above your head.
“Another time maybe, right now I…I just want to be inside you.”
He was blushing a bit. And his expression was so needy. How cute. What a good boy he was. You told him so, as you nodded and you guided him to your entrance.
“Ready ?”
Yes. Ready.
When he pushed slowly inside you, you lost your breath too. He was…impressive. In every sense of the term. And he stretched you to the maximum, hurting you a bit, as you weren’t use to such a size. He stilled, letting you adjust to him. He saw you winced when he penetrated you, and hurting you was the last thing he wanted to do. Hell, he never wanted to do it. So he waited for you to be fully ready.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him against you, pushing him even further inside, as if it was possible…And with a kiss on his shoulders, you breathed out :
“You can go…”
He looked in your eyes, and once he was sure you meant it, he slowly exited you, almost entirely, before unhurriedly pushed back in bit by bit. He found a slow and sweet pace, that allowed him to feel your entire being under him. Your breath, your heart beats, your little moans and cute squealing.
He couldn’t stop himself from going a bit faster , as he felt his cock thrusting in and out of you easily, slickly. You pushed him deep within you, your heels digging in his back, and he almost lost control.
You wanted it faster. Harder. And you voiced your need. Thanks god. Because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to retain himself to pound into you mercilessly much longer.
Again, this was the first time you felt that way. The only few men you had sex with never felt like that, never felt that good, and that perfect inside you. As if you were made for him, and him for you. More importantly, none of them seemed to care for you as much as he did, being careful with you, and following your desire first, his second.
He was sucking on your neck lovingly, and your nails scratched his back, as he relentlessly hammered into you. You dragged his head to your face, and kissed him. Hard. He responded obviously, as his hips expertly rolled against yours.
You met him thrust for thrust, and your movement made him groan in pleasure. He might be a sex god (or so you thought), but you weren’t too bad yourself. You had some moves. And you used all of them on him. At some point, you felt his hands stilling your waist, and his short breath on your neck.
“Stop, or I’m not going to last.”
“Stop what ?”
“You know damn well what I’m talking about (Y/N), stop this thing you do with your hips.”
“You mean…that.”
And you reeled your hips against his, making him take a deep breath, and suppressing a loud moan. Oh that wouldn’t do. You wanted to hear him, it was not fair if you were the only one screaming his name. You did it again, making him gasp.
“Fuck…No one ever…No one ever did that to me…Stop…”
“Does it feel good ?”
“Yes, fuck, it feels too good (Y/N).”
“Then why stop ?”
And he was gone, jack hammering hard inside you, his pace faltering as his release was close. But he would not come first. That wasn’t gentlemanly. Leaving an arm by your head to support his weight and not crush you, the other one went to your core, and he flicked two fingers at your clit, rubbing furiously because he was too damn close…You came, his name on your lips, your body shaking uncontrollably, and he followed you soon after, pulling out just in time to not spill inside you, but all over your stomach.
He collapsed on you, unable to hold himself, but it was alright, his weight on you was somewhat comforting. It felt safe under there.
“Do you have a cloth or something ?”
“First drawer in the bathroom.”
“Be right back.”
And indeed, a few minutes later, he came back with a wet cloth to clean you up. He was already clean, and he raised you in his arms to lay on the couch, you on top of him.
“Wow.”
“Wow indeed.”
“What the Hell was that (Y/N) ?”
“You mean, the hip thing ?”
“Yeah, the hip thing.”
“I don’t know, discovered a while ago that men liked it, kept doing it.”
“Well, I confirm. Men definitely like it. Damn.”
“You weren’t bad either. Actually, no one ever made me feel like that before.”
“Oh, and I’m not done honey, after all, we’ve got…all night right ?”
Your thoughts went to Batman for a bit, hoping he was alright, and not in danger. Little did you know “Batman” was with you right now, and was about to take you multiple time, on your couch, on the sink in your bathroom, under the shower, and in your bed, in a wide array of different positions, until the morning rose and you fell asleep, exhausted.
************
You woke up to an empty bed, and for a moment, felt a panic rise in your chest. But only for a moment, as you saw a note on the pillow Bruce fell asleep on. It read :
“Hey, I swear this isn’t me running out on you (Y/N), I had important affairs to attend to at Wayne Industry. Let’s have dinner tonight,
Love you,
B.
PS : Last night was great. Wait, that’s insufficient. Last night was life changing. ”
Cute. So damn cute. And he said “love you”. Of course it was written hastily on a note but, still. And last night was…”life changing” ? Wow. And so you smiled…But your smile soon disappeared.
Wh…What ? OH MY GOD ! How could you have been so oblivious ? So stupid ? How did you not notice anything ? Weren’t you suppose to be a cop ??
You ran to a drawer at your desk, the one you put away Batman’s note he gave you almost a year ago…The same handwriting. The exact same. The way they were curling the letters, the point on their “i”…Holy shit.
HOLY SHIT.
But of course.
They were the same person. Batman, was Bruce, Bruce, was Batman. You couldn’t help the fit of laughter that washed over you. Of course they were. It all made sense ! So that’s why the Dark Knight’s lips felt so familiar, you were right, your guts weren’t lying to you !
Instead of being mad at him for not telling you the truth, you were relieved. So you weren’t in love with two men, since they were the same one. Pfiooo. Yes. It did make you a bit sad though, that he wasn’t trusting you enough to tell you who he really was…You decided to go see him right now, to have a bit more explanations. You weren’t going to let him go.
************
Alfred answered the door as you rung the bell.
“Oh, Lady (Y/N), good to see you. Master Bruce wasn’t waiting for you until…”
“Where is he Alfred ? I have to talk to him, it’s urgent.”
“I’m afraid he…”
“I know he’s Batman.”
“Oh. Well that changes everything. Follow me if you please.”
************
Under the Manor. That’s where the batcave was. When Bruce saw you, he found himself speechless, and extremely nervous. Back to the puppy eyed face that used to be plastered on Bruce Wayne, before he started to get out there again. When you explained to him your discovery however, he seemed more relax. You weren’t mad, you understood, and you were actually glad that Batman and him was the same person, loving two men wasn’t really your thing. But you were a bit saddened at his lack of trust…He wasn’t lacking trust. He trusted you with his life. It was more…Being afraid of how you’d react, afraid you’d leave him, and that, he couldn’t bear. Silly man. Of course you weren’t going to leave him, you were fucking in love with him.
“…I love you (Y/N).”
First time he told it to you vocally. He wrote it in notes before, but he never told you right in your face. It was great. The kiss he gave you that day, after you whispered in his ear “I love you too”, was full of promises to never keep anything from you anymore. And that was it.
Finally, you could see it.
The brighter future which perspective was open when you first saw him, and he “saved” you. That future that felt more and more confirmed as you saw his feat around Gotham. And then, when The Riddler’s plans were foiled and Bruce Wayne finally came out of the dark.
That brighter future you saw in Bruce’s eyes, that first night.
Who would’ve thought it would’ve brought you here ?
Certainly not the you from years ago, desperate to survive. Ah. Proof to never give up, right ?
Ok. So. If you’ve been here since A LONG TIME, you might’ve feel like you read something a little similar before…This is a COMPLETE rewriting of a 2017 story I wrote, and thought deserved to be redone with Battinson in mind (I reworked it quite a bit, like many things changed but the basic plot of cop/bat is the same). Also honestly, haven’t seen anyone like or interact in any way with that old story in like, over a year ? So I thought : “Feels like many people, especially new to the fandom, probably didn’t read it”. + Like I said, I just felt like the story deserved a second breath. And I poured again quite a bit of work in this, so I hope you like it ! :D
And that it’s not too cringy. My greatest fear haha.
So, apparently Robert Pattinson did work out and lied about not doing so (obviously). Which is now, as he claims, biting him in the ass - which I find hilarious.
I do not give permission for any of my works or their included components to be copied, translated, and/or reposted, even with credit.
Chaste. Empty. Corralled into a corner as if she were an animal.
Any purity of mind is swept away with a single inhale. That’s all it takes. The security one might feel is stripped from their person, smashed to bits and glued back together with no interest in perfection. Reconciliation with one’s mind is unlikely.
Health is of no concern when you’ve been drugged into manic fits - battling against your own subconscious - monsters and demons and past sins come in full force.
He watches it over and over, until his eyes burn. Bruce suspected whatever toxin had accumulated on the streets of Gotham had adverse effects beyond anyone’s expectations. This isn’t just a drug - it’s practiced, evolved from one hit to the next. It brings nightmares to life.
There, in her gaze, proves his theories. Terror stricken, lips unnaturally pale within seconds, tense in a way that he’s rarely seen. Shoulders hunched, legs launching into the air, and a battle cry for survival. Fight or flight working its dirty hands at her base.
It was fear that had ensconced the poor examiner. She’d done well too, a practiced motion of parting empty souls from their flesh, and taking order from it all. Pride and courage had not been her downfall, it had been her curiosity. To witness the drug work its way through a living subject had tattooed a vile tang at the back of his throat.
I do not give permission for any of my works or their included components to be copied, translated, and/or reposted, even with credit.
Chaste. Empty. Corralled into a corner as if she were an animal.
Any purity of mind is swept away with a single inhale. That’s all it takes. The security one might feel is stripped from their person, smashed to bits and glued back together with no interest in perfection. Reconciliation with one’s mind is unlikely.
Health is of no concern when you’ve been drugged into manic fits - battling against your own subconscious - monsters and demons and past sins come in full force.
He watches it over and over, until his eyes burn. Bruce suspected whatever toxin had accumulated on the streets of Gotham had adverse effects beyond anyone’s expectations. This isn’t just a drug - it’s practiced, evolved from one hit to the next. It brings nightmares to life.
There, in her gaze, proves his theories. Terror stricken, lips unnaturally pale within seconds, tense in a way that he’s rarely seen. Shoulders hunched, legs launching into the air, and a battle cry for survival. Fight or flight working its dirty hands at her base.
It was fear that had ensconced the poor examiner. She’d done well too, a practiced motion of parting empty souls from their flesh, and taking order from it all. Pride and courage had not been her downfall, it had been her curiosity. To witness the drug work its way through a living subject had tattooed a vile tang at the back of his throat.
I do not give permission for any of my works or their included components to be copied, translated, and/or reposted, even with credit.
Chaste. Empty. Corralled into a corner as if she were an animal.
Any purity of mind is swept away with a single inhale. That’s all it takes. The security one might feel is stripped from their person, smashed to bits and glued back together with no interest in perfection. Reconciliation with one’s mind is unlikely.
Health is of no concern when you’ve been drugged into manic fits - battling against your own subconscious - monsters and demons and past sins come in full force.
He watches it over and over, until his eyes burn. Bruce suspected whatever toxin had accumulated on the streets of Gotham had adverse effects beyond anyone’s expectations. This isn’t just a drug - it’s practiced, evolved from one hit to the next. It brings nightmares to life.
There, in her gaze, proves his theories. Terror stricken, lips unnaturally pale within seconds, tense in a way that he’s rarely seen. Shoulders hunched, legs launching into the air, and a battle cry for survival. Fight or flight working its dirty hands at her base.
It was fear that had ensconced the poor examiner. She’d done well too, a practiced motion of parting empty souls from their flesh, and taking order from it all. Pride and courage had not been her downfall, it had been her curiosity. To witness the drug work its way through a living subject had tattooed a vile tang at the back of his throat.
I do not give permission for any of my works or their included components to be copied, translated, and/or reposted, even with credit.
Chaste. Empty. Corralled into a corner as if she were an animal.
Any purity of mind is swept away with a single inhale. That’s all it takes. The security one might feel is stripped from their person, smashed to bits and glued back together with no interest in perfection. Reconciliation with one’s mind is unlikely.
Health is of no concern when you’ve been drugged into manic fits - battling against your own subconscious - monsters and demons and past sins come in full force.
He watches it over and over, until his eyes burn. Bruce suspected whatever toxin had accumulated on the streets of Gotham had adverse effects beyond anyone’s expectations. This isn’t just a drug - it’s practiced, evolved from one hit to the next. It brings nightmares to life.
There, in her gaze, proves his theories. Terror stricken, lips unnaturally pale within seconds, tense in a way that he’s rarely seen. Shoulders hunched, legs launching into the air, and a battle cry for survival. Fight or flight working its dirty hands at her base.
It was fear that had ensconced the poor examiner. She’d done well too, a practiced motion of parting empty souls from their flesh, and taking order from it all. Pride and courage had not been her downfall, it had been her curiosity. To witness the drug work its way through a living subject had tattooed a vile tang at the back of his throat.
I do not give permission for any of my works or their included components to be copied, translated, and/or reposted, even with credit.
Chaste. Empty. Corralled into a corner as if she were an animal.
Any purity of mind is swept away with a single inhale. That’s all it takes. The security one might feel is stripped from their person, smashed to bits and glued back together with no interest in perfection. Reconciliation with one’s mind is unlikely.
Health is of no concern when you’ve been drugged into manic fits - battling against your own subconscious - monsters and demons and past sins come in full force.
He watches it over and over, until his eyes burn. Bruce suspected whatever toxin had accumulated on the streets of Gotham had adverse effects beyond anyone’s expectations. This isn’t just a drug - it’s practiced, evolved from one hit to the next. It brings nightmares to life.
There, in her gaze, proves his theories. Terror stricken, lips unnaturally pale within seconds, tense in a way that he’s rarely seen. Shoulders hunched, legs launching into the air, and a battle cry for survival. Fight or flight working its dirty hands at her base.
It was fear that had ensconced the poor examiner. She’d done well too, a practiced motion of parting empty souls from their flesh, and taking order from it all. Pride and courage had not been her downfall, it had been her curiosity. To witness the drug work its way through a living subject had tattooed a vile tang at the back of his throat.
Now, he fears it’d done more than bring whatever horrors she’d been hallucinating. Could this cause brain damage? PTSD seemed likely, or something similar.
It’s a question with no answer. He’s never been able to examine a survivor beyond the aftermath. Let alone during its attack. Anger stews at the pit of his stomach, his chest tight, but he forces his jaw to relax.
So many have died because of this cruelty - speculative, but supported by streams of evidence that have managed to slip through the cracks. There’s been no pattern, nothing like he’s dealt with in the past. This was different.
In his bones, Bruce could sense a shift in the tide. Something tugging him within its depths. That this - whatever it is - is only the beginning. A set passage for a future of misgivings.
Before, it’d been those forgotten by society. Drop-heads, neglected teens, the homeless; those who are considered invisible to the eye of justice.
A professor of Gotham University? That was new. Higher than ‘low-life’ thugs. A man with means, wealth, and security. A target that belittled the original pathway; one of blood and fury.
He’s seen what that does to a man, how it controls their every move.
Bruce would rather avoid a similar outcome - anything that remotely mirrored the Riddler set him on edge. Kept him persistent, incapable of ignoring even the smallest, useless bits in any investigation.
What’d he miss, what could he resolve?
Bruce refuses that be an outcome ever again. The damage was and still is unprecedented, and he can’t allow that to befall Gotham.
He blinks once, twice, and rewinds the video. Again, again, again -
“Who is she?”
He starts, finding Alfred watching from a distance, his expression the very epitome of muddled disquiet. Hard lines crease at his eyes, brows furrowed as he narrows his attention upon the screen.
Ives’ screeching thrashes amidst the cave, the spacious environment echoing and clinging to each and every edge it could grapple.
A low hum emits from the older man, caked in concern, “That looks horrid. Has she recovered?”
Another pitfall corners his careful migration of emotion, frustration evident on his features.
“No.”
If he were still a child, he’d have nightmares for years.
However, Bruce is used to shadowed horror. He’s lived it. Worn it on his sleeve, had it carved deep inside his heart. There was no changing it - his past - only staking claim to a future. One without torment that swallowed good intentions whole.
Alfred takes a step, narrowing his gaze when, from Bruce’s perspective, a leather clad fist smothers the medical examiner with cloth and chloroform. She’s out within seconds, body limp and at peace.
“I had to,” he says as a way of explanation, then with a heavy sigh, adds, “she’s the GCPD’s new hire - medical examiner.”
He absorbs what Bruce has said, taking each tangible piece by a thread. After a moment Alfred asks, “Was this recent?”.
Of course he wouldn’t know when it took place. GCPD took great lengths to keep what happened within their own walls a secret. Last thing citizens need after healing is another open wound.
His jaw ticks, throat lodged in something sharp and imperfect. “A week ago, when I went to examine the professor.”
Alfred’s brows shoot up to his hairline, “The first or second?”
Time was not on his side, the realization a blow to the head when heard aloud. More so to his expectations. Only a day after his examination of Jarrick Lincoln a new body had been found, alone and crippled and bathed in terror.
Bruce needed to mitigate this. Find the source and dissolve it to its very core - before more innocents were thrust beneath its hellfire.
“First.”
____
Mist envelopes smog, an eerie reflection of street light congregating glistening neon. Gloom suffices for what cannot be said amidst the dreary atmosphere of Gothams innermost alleyways.
In the distance roaring engines and nightlife harmonize - creating a drift between shadows and flashing radiance. It’s all a hunting ground, his home, made up in lust and bone. Far above the city, amidst apathetic moonlight and rain clouds, shines a signal of hope. Of warning and justice and faith. Batman’s call to protect.
Despite the coalition of endless nights, it shone strongly. Now was no different.
Gordon stands beside Batman’s sigil, one hand concealed in his coat pocket and another clinging to a steaming cup of coffee. A patient man waiting for his partner.
Bruce is thankful to him, in a way, he has helped smooth his transition from vengeance to hope; a friend, even. Though he has no intention in voicing as much, the detective didn’t need to become a target.
One ounce of weakness, a shred of affection openly displayed would always be used against both Batman and Bruce Wayne. Allowing someone close meant their suffering in the end. Alfred was proof of that.
“Have they struck again?”
Gordon flinches, exhaustion melding inside his surprise.
“Jesus, a warning would be nice man.”
He withholds his shrug, stepping forward to face his partner head on. A peculiar part of him found a thimble of enjoyment in startling others. Not in a twisted way, but their little jumps of alarm inflicted a bubble of laughter in his throat.
After a moment, Gordon shakes his head. He’s pensive, taking a thoughtful sip from his mug. A small amount of relief washes over his face as he exclaims; “I thought you might want an update on Ives’ condition.”
Bruce perks up at her surname, avoiding any display of interest. He nods all the same.
“She’s awake, afraid and on edge, but awake,” another gulp of his beverage has him sighing, “she’s willing to describe the effects - but only to you.”
Interesting.
“Is there a reason she chose that specific condition?”
The other man looks him directly in the eye, “She doesn’t trust the precinct - Ives is convinced they want to…uh, expose her. It’s a side effect of the poison, if I had to guess, paranoia.”
“Expose her?” had the poison convinced her she had something to hide, or was she truly concealing a truth no one knew about? Odd to believe someone within her place of work is out to give her away.
Though, he supposes he can understand. Falcone may be dead, but that didn’t exhaust even a quarter of corrupt officials, let alone those working under them.
Didn’t help that Maroni was out on good behavior, taking what he could of Falcone’s legacy before the Penguin could snatch it all up. Oswald Cobblepot reigned over Gotham, for what it’s worth, while Mayor Reál cleaned house and did her best to charge him head on.
To be frank, Bruce was surprised she hadn’t ended up dead yet. Something for which he’s grateful for. She’s a good woman with honorable intentions for this city. He respected her greatly for it.
If he could keep as little as one step ahead of Penguin and Maroni to keep her alive, he would. Gordon is much the same.
Said detective huffs out, wisps of midnight mist lapsing from his mouth, “That’s what her doctor said, so did Monroe. Whatever it is, she won’t say a damned thing, at least not to us.”
Prying open between the lines, he clenches his jaw at the memory of her paralyzed and in utter dread. The decision is made for him. It wasn’t even a question. Not only would he get to debrief with a survivor, he needs to catalog what she’s willing to answer.
And he’d be lying if he claimed he didn’t want to ensure she recovered. No person deserves whatever made her scream like that.
“When do we go?”
“Now.”
____
Ives is a willow amidst monitors and pale sheets. Her lips are chapped, the color of her skin nearly drained of its luster, tubes leak from her body in volume. He didn’t know what to expect, but this wasn’t it. Wishful thinking, he supposes.
He’s at the door, the heavy wood shut behind him. Bruce doesn’t want to startle her, let alone make her uncomfortable. The poor woman has been through enough.
She won’t look at him, fiddling with her blanket and fingers. As if he were a specter come to haunt her. The silence is eerie, the calm before the storm. He can feel it in the air, a damp, fluid thing that washes between them.
Without warning, she meets his gaze, her own piercing and unsure.
“You stopped whatever was happening to me,” there is no edge to it, only a subtle ease in which Ives wraps about his worries, “thank you.”
Bruce had been uncertain if she’d hate him for it or not. Some are thankful for his help, others are vindictive and trying. He can ignore it for the most part, even if during early mornings it scrapes at the back of his mind; doubt skidding along his firing synapses.
Short of a nod, he finds himself unsteady. Fingers twitching, jaw aching, his lips on the verge of parting and spewing inane questions. Ones that should be met with care.
What did she see? How did it feel? Does she still have any physical symptoms? Lasting emotional or mental hallucinations? A fever, heart palpitations, white blood cell declination? He could go on for hours, drag every tiny detail from her person until he was satisfied. Expectant for what he was to face.
Tofinally begin his hunt.
Instead, he takes a silent breath alongside a single step. He watches for a reaction, any sign she might find his presence less than neutral. Before he could dig for details, she needed to feel safe, comfortable. Or they’d get nowhere.
As if reading his intentions, Ives bares a faint smile. It’s soft yet strained, as though proffering anything more than a blank expression hurts. Regardless, Bruce assesses it to be as intended.
Paced, dense footfalls trickle about the small room, each heavier than the last. Ives is no longer looking him in the eyes, but she does peer at the rest of him. His boots first, the guards on his forearms, utility belts and kevlar and the bat insignia plastered across his chest.
She maintains an interest many don’t have after first glance. The young medical examiner is searching for something, scrutinizing his blades, the electric wiring built within his braces, to the stitching of his cowl.
“You made your suit all by yourself,” her voice creaks, a whisper of deterioration, “didn’t you?”
Again, he makes no move to answer verbally, halting at the end of her bed. Ives straightens her back, craning her head in observation.
This close, Bruce notes how hollow her cheeks are, how small, sick, and weak she appears even after a week. Dark shadows sludge under her eyes, bold and striking and not of her own making. A sliver of dismay headlines the base of his chest, heart quickening under the realization that yes - this lasts far longer than the poison’s initial contact.
It makes him itch beneath the layers of armor.
“Is that why you want to speak to me alone?” he ignores her curiosity, pushing towards the reason he’s here, “because I stopped it?”
Ives furrows, bow lips bent into a frown.
“I didn’t ask to meet in person,” Bruce struggles to wrap his head around that, “I just wanted you to know how thankful I am. I thought Gordon had told you in my place?”
Confusion knits away at his gut, her entire frame slouching under his scrutiny.
Something is wrong. The air shifts, the tide pulls - he’d been lured in, he had to have been, and Bruce finds himself reaching for her -
Jarring, concussive screams sound from afar - outside, he thinks - crescendo about the room, followed by a distinct bang. Bruce charges for the concealed window. From his peripheral, he catches Ives gaping in shock, angling her body to take stock of his mannerisms.
Swiftly, he discards the curtains, and stills at the sight before him.
There’s a library kitty-corner from the hospital, a five minute walk at most, and the window gives him the perfect view of its stone assembly, limbless and burning alive. Mist oozes from its doors, hysterical Gothamites trip over one another to escape.
Some scatter, others hurl once they reach open air, and a rare few run back in. Likely for their loved ones, or to act on their Samaritan nature.
Vanilla ensconces his senses then, a tinge of cinnamon following, and he finds Ives standing beside him. Her profile is one of distinct alarm, and beneath it, recognition. Familiarity ticks at her jaw, gooseflesh cresting her form.
“You should go,” she murmurs, a lilt of shivering painting her tonality, “before more are hurt.”
If she were to see his face, she’d find an evident scowl. There is an unease to her, yes, but expectation prickles at her spine. Bruce can feel it, the way it thrums in the atmosphere.
Had she been the one to…?
Suspicion fists his abdomen in its death grip, chest constricting - doubt fluttering in a kaleidoscope of color. Biting down hard, he resists the urge to threaten, fight, to have her cowering before him all due to his lack of evidence.
Frustration bundles tightly at his muscle, a thick static coarse in his bloodstream, sewn between bone and flesh.
Alone in Gotham, working a job no one wants, and clearly on edge. Was she to blame for this, or was she running from a past aligned with his current investigation? Perhaps she was related in some way - a trap had been left for the future coroner.
But given the current theme of said anonymous’ attacks, there should be, in theory, a relation to Ives. The woman wasn’t of importance within the spheres of the most recent victims, yet there had been a canister filled to the brim with this killer’s signature chemical waiting for someone to find it.
Bruce refused to believe it was an accident. Had she been attacked in the midst of intimacy, or was she involved - perhaps the source - somehow? How in the hell had he not thought of this beforehand?
Sodden, reflective, dark pools meet him straight on. Expectance drips from Ives, her personage strained as she leans against the wall in search of support. When had she moved?
“They need you.”
Even at this moment, she seems to understand his purpose far more than he does. It’s less a wake up call than a reminder - he is not vengeance. He is a light in the shadow, and he needs to remain as such.
Without so much as looking back, he spins on his heel and sprints out of her room.
He’d look further into Ives when he ensured the safety of those awaiting his arrival. This ‘newcomer’ had unknowingly become a suspect on his nonexistent list. It’s his first real step into an investigation that had no real motive. Not yet.
Bruce would be watching; scouring a past that didn’t belong to him, but to justice.
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Chaste. Empty. Corralled into a corner as if she were an animal.
Any purity of mind is swept away with a single inhale. That’s all it takes. The security one might feel is stripped from their person, smashed to bits and glued back together with no interest in perfection. Reconciliation with one’s mind is unlikely.
Health is of no concern when you’ve been drugged into manic fits - battling against your own subconscious - monsters and demons and past sins come in full force.
He watches it over and over, until his eyes burn. Bruce suspected whatever toxin had accumulated on the streets of Gotham had adverse effects beyond anyone’s expectations. This isn’t just a drug - it’s practiced, evolved from one hit to the next. It brings nightmares to life.
There, in her gaze, proves his theories. Terror stricken, lips unnaturally pale within seconds, tense in a way that he’s rarely seen. Shoulders hunched, legs launching into the air, and a battle cry for survival. Fight or flight working its dirty hands at her base.
It was fear that had ensconced the poor examiner. She’d done well too, a practiced motion of parting empty souls from their flesh, and taking order from it all. Pride and courage had not been her downfall, it had been her curiosity. To witness the drug work its way through a living subject had tattooed a vile tang at the back of his throat.
so. the batman opening with criminals being afraid of the shadows. versus the batman ending with citizens following batman out of the muck and into the light of his flare. now i don’t know much about movies, but,
