A Hero (Gotham; Bruce, Cat; PG-13/T; #106: Everybody Hurts)
Title: A Hero
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Gotham (Can I get a Gotham tag, please and thank you?)
Character/Pairing: Selina, Bruce
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge: #106: Everybody Hurts
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 582
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to DC Comics, not the author, and are used without permission.
She watches the world go by from the window of the car in which she knows she has no place riding. She should be out there with them in the cold and the wet on this gloomy, December day. She is no better than they except that perhaps she is faster, stronger willed, less likely to fall to the temptations to which they succumb every day. Her forehead presses against the glass, but even as she watches them, she is aware that she, too, is being watched.
"A dollar for your thoughts?" the kid next to her whispers, removing a coin from his jacket pocket. It has become a sort of game with them. Ever since they heard the phrase "a penny for your thoughts" and she hotly informed him that she would never sell her thoughts for a mere penny, he has raised the offered amount every time he's asked her what she's thinking. She accepted a quarter the last time, so he's surprised when she murmurs, "Keep your money, kid."
"Cat," he starts but quiets when she shakes her bushy head.
"Just look at 'em," she whispers back. "Everybody hurts. I'm tellin' ya, kid," she shakes her head again, "you don't know how good you've got it."
"I -- "
"I know your parents were killed. You're all alone, but not really. You've got him." She jerks her thumb toward the back of Alfred's head. You've got me, she thinks even as he thinks of how much he wants to count her among his very few, true friendships.
"You think these people ain't had somebody taken from them? Every one of them's hurting, and none of them chose the life they have, not on purpose. You see that woman with the bags? The guy with the guitar? That other one that those snobs just skirted around? All of them don't know where they're gonna lay their heads tonight or where their next meal is coming from. You've never known hunger like they have." Like we have.
He may still be young, but his soul is old. It has been since his parents were killed in front of him. It's true he's never felt the kind of hunger she's describing, but he feels another burning deep within him. He watches her watching them. His blue eyes flick temporarily beyond her to the ones she is watching. The hunger grows. She's right, of course. They are all hurting. He wants to do something to help them, something -- his gaze returns to her -- to help her.
"What if somebody could help them? Give them food, shelter?"
"It'd last for a day, maybe. Then they'd be out in the cold again." She shivers, although the limousine is quite warm. He resists the urge to wrap his jacket around her, like he saw his father do many times for his mother while they were still alive.
"But what if they could help more than that?"
She snorts. "Yeah, right. Like how?"
"I don't know," he answers hesitantly. "A hero of some kind, maybe. Some one who can give them food, shelter, protection -- "
But she's already shaking her head. "You're dreaming, kid. Heroes don't exist."
No, he thinks, watching her and them all, but they should. Maybe they can. Silently, he adds that thought to his growing list of ideas to avenge his parents. The city needs a hero. Its people need a hero. Selina needs a hero. But can he be that hero? He doesn't know yet, but maybe, one day, he'll try.
The End
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Gotham (Can I get a Gotham tag, please and thank you?)
Character/Pairing: Selina, Bruce
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge: #106: Everybody Hurts
Warning(s): None
Word Count: 582
Summary:
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to DC Comics, not the author, and are used without permission.
She watches the world go by from the window of the car in which she knows she has no place riding. She should be out there with them in the cold and the wet on this gloomy, December day. She is no better than they except that perhaps she is faster, stronger willed, less likely to fall to the temptations to which they succumb every day. Her forehead presses against the glass, but even as she watches them, she is aware that she, too, is being watched.
"A dollar for your thoughts?" the kid next to her whispers, removing a coin from his jacket pocket. It has become a sort of game with them. Ever since they heard the phrase "a penny for your thoughts" and she hotly informed him that she would never sell her thoughts for a mere penny, he has raised the offered amount every time he's asked her what she's thinking. She accepted a quarter the last time, so he's surprised when she murmurs, "Keep your money, kid."
"Cat," he starts but quiets when she shakes her bushy head.
"Just look at 'em," she whispers back. "Everybody hurts. I'm tellin' ya, kid," she shakes her head again, "you don't know how good you've got it."
"I -- "
"I know your parents were killed. You're all alone, but not really. You've got him." She jerks her thumb toward the back of Alfred's head. You've got me, she thinks even as he thinks of how much he wants to count her among his very few, true friendships.
"You think these people ain't had somebody taken from them? Every one of them's hurting, and none of them chose the life they have, not on purpose. You see that woman with the bags? The guy with the guitar? That other one that those snobs just skirted around? All of them don't know where they're gonna lay their heads tonight or where their next meal is coming from. You've never known hunger like they have." Like we have.
He may still be young, but his soul is old. It has been since his parents were killed in front of him. It's true he's never felt the kind of hunger she's describing, but he feels another burning deep within him. He watches her watching them. His blue eyes flick temporarily beyond her to the ones she is watching. The hunger grows. She's right, of course. They are all hurting. He wants to do something to help them, something -- his gaze returns to her -- to help her.
"What if somebody could help them? Give them food, shelter?"
"It'd last for a day, maybe. Then they'd be out in the cold again." She shivers, although the limousine is quite warm. He resists the urge to wrap his jacket around her, like he saw his father do many times for his mother while they were still alive.
"But what if they could help more than that?"
She snorts. "Yeah, right. Like how?"
"I don't know," he answers hesitantly. "A hero of some kind, maybe. Some one who can give them food, shelter, protection -- "
But she's already shaking her head. "You're dreaming, kid. Heroes don't exist."
No, he thinks, watching her and them all, but they should. Maybe they can. Silently, he adds that thought to his growing list of ideas to avenge his parents. The city needs a hero. Its people need a hero. Selina needs a hero. But can he be that hero? He doesn't know yet, but maybe, one day, he'll try.
The End