Guardian Angel - NC17 - Chloe/Bruce - Chapter Sixteen
Title: Guardian Angel
Category: Smallville/Batman [Crossover]
Rating: NC17
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Pairing: Chloe/Bruce Wayne
Word Count: 3,260
Summary: Her guardian angel was a dark man with a fetish for rodents. Figures.
Previous: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen,
dhfreak
XVI.
"Okay, tell me again."
Chloe laughed. "Lois! I've already told you twice. They were perfectly nice to each other. Polite even."
"No way. No way did Bruce Wayne, billionaire out to steal your heart and lay you down in his dark, silk sheets, wasn't even slightly jealous that you were out to dinner with Oliver Queen!" she scoffed.
"I'm telling you… They're friends. They knew each other from Excelsior…" She shook her head, grinning. "Bruce was having dinner at the same place; he wandered over to say hi. It was all very casual, very friendly…" She shrugged. "Maybe he's not the jealous type or maybe…" She bit her lip.
Lois seemed to perk up. "Or maybe he knew there was no competition…" She snapped her fingers. "That has to be it. I bet he knew you were all up in the tall, dark and handsome, so you weren't interested in tall, blonde, and leathered."
Chloe laughed. "Sure, fine, that's what it was," she dismissed.
"Look cuz, all I'm saying is… You went out to dinner…"
"Yes."
"With an incredibly good looking billionaire."
"He's handsome," she agreed. "Yes."
"Who thousands, if not millions, can only dream of having dinner with…"
"Who I'm friends with."
"And this other billionaire, who obviously wants to take your clothes off with his teeth-"
She snorted, rolling her eyes as a flush warmed her skin.
"Isn't even a tiny bit concerned?" She paused. "No. No, I'm not buying it."
"Well, it happened…" She pulled on her sneaker, balancing on one foot and hopping backwards to keep from falling over. "Believe it."
"I'm gonna call Ollie… See what he thinks and what kind of dirt he can give me on this guy."
"Lois…" she said warningly, closing her eyes. "You are not doing that."
"What? I can't casually ask about my ex's old friend from Excelsior? You think that's crossing a boundary?" she asked with faux innocence.
"Yes. A big one. First, let's just leave Oliver out of it. He's busy enough as it is. Second, you don't need to do any digging on Bruce, all right?" She shook her head. "Things are so casual right now that they're practically non existent. So just… Let me…" She blew out an exasperated breath. "Let me do this my way, okay?"
Lois didn't reply right away, but finally she sighed heavily. "Fine, okay… But just remember this conversation if he turns out to be some psycho with multiple-personalities. Remember that your awesome cousin tried to look into him for you."
Nodding, she scooped her bag up and walked to her door. "Noted."
"You're ditching me to go sleuthing in the streets of dark, dangerous and dirty, aren't you?"
She grinned. "I am." Closing and locking her door behind her, she assured, "But if it makes you feel better, I'll be moving into a different apartment soon… One not quite as close to the dirty, dangerous part of town."
"But still dark?"
"It's Gotham. It's dark in the daylight," she reminded, jogging down the stairs to the main floor. "I still have to check it out, but from what I'm hearing, these places are brand new and rent controlled…"
"Really?" she asked, a tone of suspicion filling her voice. "And that doesn't surprise you?"
"It's a Wayne Enterprises project," she explained. "He bought up a whole bunch of property and now he's renting out the condos and apartments instead of selling them… It's probably going to hit him where it hurts - his bank account - but it doesn't look like he's too worried about that." Her eyes darted left and right as she stepped out into the night air, tugging her hood up over her hair to keep the chill out.
"Wayne Enterprises, huh?" she drawled knowingly. "Is it just me or do you seem to be all wrapped up in this guy? He's around every corner!"
Chloe laughed, shaking her head. "Hey, I'm not complaining. He's easy enough on the eyes."
"No arguments here," Lois agreed. "All right. I'll stop distracting you from your do-goodery… Call me tomorrow. Or whenever you check out this apartment. I want details, pictures, and preferably the sordid tale of how you and Brucey broke in the new place," she suggested.
Snorting, she bit her lip to keep from grinning. "As always, lovely talking to you, Lo."
"You know it!" she said cheerfully.
"Have a good night."
"You too. Good luck on staying alive, driving a local bat crazy, and cleaning up the streets with your dry wit."
"Appreciated."
Hanging up, she tucked her phone back in her jeans pocket and hurried her steps.
With Joker's loud and attention-getting calling card out there, Chloe noticed that recently there'd be a decline in familiar faces. People, even those out to bring Gotham down to its very lowest, tended to stay indoors when the crazed Joker came calling. But that didn't mean business shut down; it just meant it got a little harder to find.
For the first hour, she did little more than walk around, eyes alert and ears perked for any signs of life. There were a few drug dealers waiting around for their next victim and she waved to Dolores who was hard at work as usual, but any sign of the group previously housed at the harbor wasn't catching her attention.
When she turned down a dark alleyway to check out a warehouse she'd heard whispers about in her walks previous, she paused halfway down. There, on the ground, covered in dirt, was a card.
As she bent low to see it better, she dug it out from where it sat in muddy water, lifting it carefully so it wouldn't bend or tear.
A joker; a ghoulish looking clown on the front, dressed in red, black, white and yellow, with a sinister smile.
She stared at it a long moment, a chill running down her spine.
A door banged open then, making her jump, nearly dropping the card to the ground. She scurried back, hiding in the shadows, her eyes wide, her heart pumping hard in her chest.
In the light beaming from the door, a man stumbled out, crashing down on his back, kicking his feet out to fearfully crawl away. Dirt and garbage littered the ground beneath him, making his escape difficult.
A second man followed him out calmly, a silver gun in hand.
"Please… Please," he pleaded, holding his shaking hands up. "I-I won't tell, man. He-He can trust me. The Joker can trust me. I won't say a word."
"No. You won't." He pulled the trigger; once, twice, three times.
Each bullet landed in a perfect triangle along the man's chest, which heaved forward at the force of each blow. A single drop of blood exited each before becoming a heavy flow that saturated his white t-shirt, blooming bright.
The man stared down at his victim a long moment, lip curled, before finally tucking his gun away in his belt and turning on his heel to return back inside. The door clanged shut behind him, rattling slightly.
She stared a long moment, her heart lodged in her throat. Seconds later, she heard cars start up and she knew that whoever was inside had just left the scene, not wanting to be around if the cops came calling.
Chloe stood on shaky legs and walked toward the man, her knees weak beneath her. Her eyes darted to and fro, almost expecting the door to fly back open. But it didn't and she couldn't hear sirens. She finally dropped down beside the shot man and reached hesitantly out for a pulse. She wondered, with some fear, if her power might react. This was the worst possible place for her to die and she didn't exactly have anybody who could come looking for her in the morgue.
His skin was clammy, or maybe it was her hands.
She held her breath as she searched, nearly shouting in terror as his hand suddenly gripped her wrist tightly.
He stared up at her, eyes bulging from his face. "He's coming-" he gasped, blood seeping from his lips. "He's coming… won't stop... Kill… He'll kill… us… all…"
Chloe stared at him searchingly. "Who? The Joker?" She shook her head. "What do you know? When is he coming? What is he planning?"
His grip began to loosen around her. "We're all gonna die…" he said, laughing until he coughed on his own blood.
"No, no, keep your eyes open." She pressed a hand to his chest, covering a bullet hole, and willed her power to work. Yes, it was inconvenient and she'd probably have a lot of explaining to do, but not only did she not want this guy to die, but she also needed whatever information he had. It mattered on a much larger scale now. If he knew what the Joker was up to, then she needed him to tell her.
"Come on, come on," she muttered, closing her eyes and searching deep inside her for that spark; that meteor-rock infused life source that could keep this man in the here and now. But it was nowhere; nothing was happening; not even the slightest bit of her power came forth. She opened her eyes to see him, to convey how sorry she was.
As he began to sink back against the wall, his head fell back, eyes staring at her sightlessly. "You're gon' die…"
Those were his last words before his final breath left his lips.
oOo
Chloe was shaken. She was hesitant to call the cops, seeing as she knew some of them were on the take. But she couldn't leave this man here, and she knew… She knew what his killer looked like.
Sharp slashes of dark eyebrows atop narrowed, dark eyes. A prominent nose, crooked like it'd been broken more than once. Dark hair, shaved down short. A jagged scar from his right temple that led through his hair. A tattoo on his neck; a spiderweb, how clichéd. And his hand; he shot with his right, a ring on his finger, overly large and gold.
She wouldn't forget him.
But who to tell?
For the first time, she looked up at the sky and wished her winged savior would come down to give her a hand. But Batman was nowhere in sight and her heart ached for it.
She stood, knees wet with the damp ground she'd been kneeling on. She stared at the young man, lifeless and limp, he couldn't have been more than thirty. Sandy hair, brown eyes, five o'clock shadow. He might've been handsome, she thought.
She stepped back, turned on her heel, and started out of the alley. She wouldn't forget him either, she decided. And somehow, one way or another, she would make sure his killer would be brought to justice. Sure, maybe he was in with the wrong people. Maybe he wasn't any better than the person who killed him. But murder was murder.
She fingered the card before tucking it in her jacket pocket.
The Joker and all who followed him were in for a rude awakening.
If the police wouldn't take him down, then Chloe would.
She called the cops when she was two blocks away and said a silent prayer for the family who was about to find out they'd lost a son or a brother or maybe even a father. All of her previous excitement for setting out that night drained away; she might've been honest when she told Oliver that Gotham was growing on her, but that didn't mean the city itself didn't have a lot more growth left to do still. This senseless death stuff was getting to her and her heart ached with what she'd witnessed.
When she arrived home, she realized her hands were stained with blood. A man she didn't even know the name of had died before her eyes and she had his blood on her hands. She almost stumbled over her feet hurrying to the bathroom. As she scrubbed it away in the sink, her skin turned a bright, violent, raw shade of red. She sniffled, unaware that she was even crying, but the tears spilled down her cheeks helplessly.
She slid to her knees, gripping the edge of the sink, and sucked in a deep breath as she held in a sob. This wasn't the first person she'd seen die. It wasn't the first pointless death she'd witnessed. But it hurt all the same. It hurt to watch a person's life drain from their eyes.
A tapping at her window drew her attention; her brows furrowed as she turned her head.
A dark shadow fell over the balcony and she rose up from the floor, wiping at her face, sniffling still. She swiped her still wet hands on her jeans and walked to the sliding glass door. She threw back the curtains and stared unsurprised at the large, formidable form of Batman, cape billowing out behind him. Unlatching the door, she swung it wipe and open, stepping back to let him inside.
"You're a little late," she said with a humorless laugh. "Could've used your powers of intimidation a half hour ago…"
Crossing her arms over her chest, she stepped back and looked anywhere but at his face.
He followed her inside, silent.
"You know it's funny… I've seen guns, held guns, I even know how to shoot one…" She shrugged. "But in somebody else's hands I still freeze. I still… I hold my breath and I hope it doesn't turn in my direction. And that's, I mean, of course, everybody has that self-preservation in them. But maybe…" Her brows furrowed and she felt her insides begin to shake; her heart, her lungs, her stomach. "Maybe if I hadn't hesitated or if I'd just made a noise, caught his attention, maybe that man would've gotten away or had a chance to fight back or… something." Her breath came quicker then, leaving her in jagged gasps. "But I didn't move." She shook her head, her eyes filling. "I didn't say or do anything. I just kept hoping in my head that he wouldn't see me." She squeezed her eyes closed. "And after, I-I tried to save him. I did. But it wouldn't-I couldn't…"
He took a step forward and suddenly she was wrapped in him. His arms wound around her and gathered her up until she was pressed tight to him, her cheek against the cold, unforgiving chest plate of his suit. His utility belt dug into her stomach, but she didn't care. She couldn't find it in her to do much more than slide her arms around his waist and cry. Her fingers furled in his black cape, holding on tight. All the while his hands, covered in thick Kevlar, moved up and down and around in soothing circles along her back, kneading her shoulders, the nape of her neck.
His chin, covered in his cowl, fell to rest on top of her head. "You weren't hurt," he growled, a statement more than a question.
"They were so close… The door flew open and I just crouched. I watched the whole thing. I…" She squeezed her eyes. "I can still see his face. Both of their faces…"
His fingers gripped her hair tight, his other arm banding tight around her waist. "It's not safe for you out there."
She snorted. "It's not safe for anybody."
"You're tempting fate."
She sighed. "Always have… Probably always will…"
He sighed, frustrated with her.
"Makes you feel better, I'm checking out that apartment you put on hold for me."
He stilled. "What makes you think I got you an apartment?"
She drew her head back to look at him, her brow lifted. "I can count on one hand the number of people I know here, two of which I work with, so I know their salary isn't enough to put a down payment on an apartment for me…" She raised a hand to wipe at the tears still clinging to her cheeks. "That leaves only two. You and Bruce Wayne…" She stared at him searchingly. "While he has the money, I can't see why he'd do that. You, on the other hand, seem pretty adamant that by just walking the streets I'm getting in your way…"
His lips pursed. "You were almost shot tonight."
"I was closer than usual," she argued.
Though she couldn't see it, she felt his eyebrow had been raised beneath his cowl.
"Fine. So I should probably be more careful…" She bit her lip, casting her eyes down. "He mentioned the Joker."
"Who?"
"The man who got shot… Before he died, he said the Joker was coming, that he'd kill us all… I think he was shot because they thought he'd get word out or something… I don't know." She shook her head. "Maybe he suggested fleeing the city before the Joker opened a whole new can of explosive, deadly worms…"
His hand was still at her neck, she noticed, one of his fingers absently stroking through her hair. She realized very abruptly that she was in the arms of Batman, emphasis on the man part. She felt a sudden pang of guilt. Sure, she and Bruce weren't exactly exclusive and she still had her suspicions about Batman's identity, but that didn't change the fact that some part of her felt a little bit like she was getting entirely too close to this caped crusader.
"You still won't leave?" he wondered; the deep, rough timber of his voice made her stomach tighten.
She stared up at him, chin tilted stubbornly. "Listen, I know I might seem a little fragile, being inches from a dying man does that… But I'm not leaving." She raised her brows meaningfully. "I'm staying and I'm watching this whole thing unfold, and I'll write every single word of it, good and bad."
He ground his teeth, staring into her eyes searchingly. "And if next time they do see you hiding in the shadows?"
She swallowed thickly. "Then visit my grave with all your 'I told you so's' but don't start handing them out early." She shook her head. "This isn't my first rodeo. Nothing worth writing about is without its near-death experiences." She offered him a smile. "I've survived this long."
"You weren't in Gotham before."
Her lips twitched agreeably. "I didn't have a winged guardian taking to the skies and watching my back either…"
He looked away. "I won't always be there."
"Which is why I have a tazer," she offered simply.
He growled disagreeably.
"Nothing you say is going to change my mind."
He didn't reply, but he did release her. He walked past her, further into the apartment, and she frowned after him wonderingly. He stopped at her front door, checked the locks, and then returned to the window. "Move out of here," he told her.
She rolled her eyes. "I am."
"Tomorrow."
He didn't wait for her reply, instead leaping from her balcony.
She scowled. He always had to have the last word.
Still, she figured he had a point. She would check out the apartment tomorrow, and if it was up to her standards, she'd move in that afternoon. Or maybe the day after; just to get under his skin.
Grinning, she closed and locked the sliding glass door before making her way back to her bedroom. She figured it was as close to a 'last word' she would get, but it was good enough in her books.
[Next: XVII.]
Category: Smallville/Batman [Crossover]
Rating: NC17
Genre: Romance/Humor/Drama
Pairing: Chloe/Bruce Wayne
Word Count: 3,260
Summary: Her guardian angel was a dark man with a fetish for rodents. Figures.
Previous: Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen,
dhfreak
XVI.
"Okay, tell me again."
Chloe laughed. "Lois! I've already told you twice. They were perfectly nice to each other. Polite even."
"No way. No way did Bruce Wayne, billionaire out to steal your heart and lay you down in his dark, silk sheets, wasn't even slightly jealous that you were out to dinner with Oliver Queen!" she scoffed.
"I'm telling you… They're friends. They knew each other from Excelsior…" She shook her head, grinning. "Bruce was having dinner at the same place; he wandered over to say hi. It was all very casual, very friendly…" She shrugged. "Maybe he's not the jealous type or maybe…" She bit her lip.
Lois seemed to perk up. "Or maybe he knew there was no competition…" She snapped her fingers. "That has to be it. I bet he knew you were all up in the tall, dark and handsome, so you weren't interested in tall, blonde, and leathered."
Chloe laughed. "Sure, fine, that's what it was," she dismissed.
"Look cuz, all I'm saying is… You went out to dinner…"
"Yes."
"With an incredibly good looking billionaire."
"He's handsome," she agreed. "Yes."
"Who thousands, if not millions, can only dream of having dinner with…"
"Who I'm friends with."
"And this other billionaire, who obviously wants to take your clothes off with his teeth-"
She snorted, rolling her eyes as a flush warmed her skin.
"Isn't even a tiny bit concerned?" She paused. "No. No, I'm not buying it."
"Well, it happened…" She pulled on her sneaker, balancing on one foot and hopping backwards to keep from falling over. "Believe it."
"I'm gonna call Ollie… See what he thinks and what kind of dirt he can give me on this guy."
"Lois…" she said warningly, closing her eyes. "You are not doing that."
"What? I can't casually ask about my ex's old friend from Excelsior? You think that's crossing a boundary?" she asked with faux innocence.
"Yes. A big one. First, let's just leave Oliver out of it. He's busy enough as it is. Second, you don't need to do any digging on Bruce, all right?" She shook her head. "Things are so casual right now that they're practically non existent. So just… Let me…" She blew out an exasperated breath. "Let me do this my way, okay?"
Lois didn't reply right away, but finally she sighed heavily. "Fine, okay… But just remember this conversation if he turns out to be some psycho with multiple-personalities. Remember that your awesome cousin tried to look into him for you."
Nodding, she scooped her bag up and walked to her door. "Noted."
"You're ditching me to go sleuthing in the streets of dark, dangerous and dirty, aren't you?"
She grinned. "I am." Closing and locking her door behind her, she assured, "But if it makes you feel better, I'll be moving into a different apartment soon… One not quite as close to the dirty, dangerous part of town."
"But still dark?"
"It's Gotham. It's dark in the daylight," she reminded, jogging down the stairs to the main floor. "I still have to check it out, but from what I'm hearing, these places are brand new and rent controlled…"
"Really?" she asked, a tone of suspicion filling her voice. "And that doesn't surprise you?"
"It's a Wayne Enterprises project," she explained. "He bought up a whole bunch of property and now he's renting out the condos and apartments instead of selling them… It's probably going to hit him where it hurts - his bank account - but it doesn't look like he's too worried about that." Her eyes darted left and right as she stepped out into the night air, tugging her hood up over her hair to keep the chill out.
"Wayne Enterprises, huh?" she drawled knowingly. "Is it just me or do you seem to be all wrapped up in this guy? He's around every corner!"
Chloe laughed, shaking her head. "Hey, I'm not complaining. He's easy enough on the eyes."
"No arguments here," Lois agreed. "All right. I'll stop distracting you from your do-goodery… Call me tomorrow. Or whenever you check out this apartment. I want details, pictures, and preferably the sordid tale of how you and Brucey broke in the new place," she suggested.
Snorting, she bit her lip to keep from grinning. "As always, lovely talking to you, Lo."
"You know it!" she said cheerfully.
"Have a good night."
"You too. Good luck on staying alive, driving a local bat crazy, and cleaning up the streets with your dry wit."
"Appreciated."
Hanging up, she tucked her phone back in her jeans pocket and hurried her steps.
With Joker's loud and attention-getting calling card out there, Chloe noticed that recently there'd be a decline in familiar faces. People, even those out to bring Gotham down to its very lowest, tended to stay indoors when the crazed Joker came calling. But that didn't mean business shut down; it just meant it got a little harder to find.
For the first hour, she did little more than walk around, eyes alert and ears perked for any signs of life. There were a few drug dealers waiting around for their next victim and she waved to Dolores who was hard at work as usual, but any sign of the group previously housed at the harbor wasn't catching her attention.
When she turned down a dark alleyway to check out a warehouse she'd heard whispers about in her walks previous, she paused halfway down. There, on the ground, covered in dirt, was a card.
As she bent low to see it better, she dug it out from where it sat in muddy water, lifting it carefully so it wouldn't bend or tear.
A joker; a ghoulish looking clown on the front, dressed in red, black, white and yellow, with a sinister smile.
She stared at it a long moment, a chill running down her spine.
A door banged open then, making her jump, nearly dropping the card to the ground. She scurried back, hiding in the shadows, her eyes wide, her heart pumping hard in her chest.
In the light beaming from the door, a man stumbled out, crashing down on his back, kicking his feet out to fearfully crawl away. Dirt and garbage littered the ground beneath him, making his escape difficult.
A second man followed him out calmly, a silver gun in hand.
"Please… Please," he pleaded, holding his shaking hands up. "I-I won't tell, man. He-He can trust me. The Joker can trust me. I won't say a word."
"No. You won't." He pulled the trigger; once, twice, three times.
Each bullet landed in a perfect triangle along the man's chest, which heaved forward at the force of each blow. A single drop of blood exited each before becoming a heavy flow that saturated his white t-shirt, blooming bright.
The man stared down at his victim a long moment, lip curled, before finally tucking his gun away in his belt and turning on his heel to return back inside. The door clanged shut behind him, rattling slightly.
She stared a long moment, her heart lodged in her throat. Seconds later, she heard cars start up and she knew that whoever was inside had just left the scene, not wanting to be around if the cops came calling.
Chloe stood on shaky legs and walked toward the man, her knees weak beneath her. Her eyes darted to and fro, almost expecting the door to fly back open. But it didn't and she couldn't hear sirens. She finally dropped down beside the shot man and reached hesitantly out for a pulse. She wondered, with some fear, if her power might react. This was the worst possible place for her to die and she didn't exactly have anybody who could come looking for her in the morgue.
His skin was clammy, or maybe it was her hands.
She held her breath as she searched, nearly shouting in terror as his hand suddenly gripped her wrist tightly.
He stared up at her, eyes bulging from his face. "He's coming-" he gasped, blood seeping from his lips. "He's coming… won't stop... Kill… He'll kill… us… all…"
Chloe stared at him searchingly. "Who? The Joker?" She shook her head. "What do you know? When is he coming? What is he planning?"
His grip began to loosen around her. "We're all gonna die…" he said, laughing until he coughed on his own blood.
"No, no, keep your eyes open." She pressed a hand to his chest, covering a bullet hole, and willed her power to work. Yes, it was inconvenient and she'd probably have a lot of explaining to do, but not only did she not want this guy to die, but she also needed whatever information he had. It mattered on a much larger scale now. If he knew what the Joker was up to, then she needed him to tell her.
"Come on, come on," she muttered, closing her eyes and searching deep inside her for that spark; that meteor-rock infused life source that could keep this man in the here and now. But it was nowhere; nothing was happening; not even the slightest bit of her power came forth. She opened her eyes to see him, to convey how sorry she was.
As he began to sink back against the wall, his head fell back, eyes staring at her sightlessly. "You're gon' die…"
Those were his last words before his final breath left his lips.
oOo
Chloe was shaken. She was hesitant to call the cops, seeing as she knew some of them were on the take. But she couldn't leave this man here, and she knew… She knew what his killer looked like.
Sharp slashes of dark eyebrows atop narrowed, dark eyes. A prominent nose, crooked like it'd been broken more than once. Dark hair, shaved down short. A jagged scar from his right temple that led through his hair. A tattoo on his neck; a spiderweb, how clichéd. And his hand; he shot with his right, a ring on his finger, overly large and gold.
She wouldn't forget him.
But who to tell?
For the first time, she looked up at the sky and wished her winged savior would come down to give her a hand. But Batman was nowhere in sight and her heart ached for it.
She stood, knees wet with the damp ground she'd been kneeling on. She stared at the young man, lifeless and limp, he couldn't have been more than thirty. Sandy hair, brown eyes, five o'clock shadow. He might've been handsome, she thought.
She stepped back, turned on her heel, and started out of the alley. She wouldn't forget him either, she decided. And somehow, one way or another, she would make sure his killer would be brought to justice. Sure, maybe he was in with the wrong people. Maybe he wasn't any better than the person who killed him. But murder was murder.
She fingered the card before tucking it in her jacket pocket.
The Joker and all who followed him were in for a rude awakening.
If the police wouldn't take him down, then Chloe would.
She called the cops when she was two blocks away and said a silent prayer for the family who was about to find out they'd lost a son or a brother or maybe even a father. All of her previous excitement for setting out that night drained away; she might've been honest when she told Oliver that Gotham was growing on her, but that didn't mean the city itself didn't have a lot more growth left to do still. This senseless death stuff was getting to her and her heart ached with what she'd witnessed.
When she arrived home, she realized her hands were stained with blood. A man she didn't even know the name of had died before her eyes and she had his blood on her hands. She almost stumbled over her feet hurrying to the bathroom. As she scrubbed it away in the sink, her skin turned a bright, violent, raw shade of red. She sniffled, unaware that she was even crying, but the tears spilled down her cheeks helplessly.
She slid to her knees, gripping the edge of the sink, and sucked in a deep breath as she held in a sob. This wasn't the first person she'd seen die. It wasn't the first pointless death she'd witnessed. But it hurt all the same. It hurt to watch a person's life drain from their eyes.
A tapping at her window drew her attention; her brows furrowed as she turned her head.
A dark shadow fell over the balcony and she rose up from the floor, wiping at her face, sniffling still. She swiped her still wet hands on her jeans and walked to the sliding glass door. She threw back the curtains and stared unsurprised at the large, formidable form of Batman, cape billowing out behind him. Unlatching the door, she swung it wipe and open, stepping back to let him inside.
"You're a little late," she said with a humorless laugh. "Could've used your powers of intimidation a half hour ago…"
Crossing her arms over her chest, she stepped back and looked anywhere but at his face.
He followed her inside, silent.
"You know it's funny… I've seen guns, held guns, I even know how to shoot one…" She shrugged. "But in somebody else's hands I still freeze. I still… I hold my breath and I hope it doesn't turn in my direction. And that's, I mean, of course, everybody has that self-preservation in them. But maybe…" Her brows furrowed and she felt her insides begin to shake; her heart, her lungs, her stomach. "Maybe if I hadn't hesitated or if I'd just made a noise, caught his attention, maybe that man would've gotten away or had a chance to fight back or… something." Her breath came quicker then, leaving her in jagged gasps. "But I didn't move." She shook her head, her eyes filling. "I didn't say or do anything. I just kept hoping in my head that he wouldn't see me." She squeezed her eyes closed. "And after, I-I tried to save him. I did. But it wouldn't-I couldn't…"
He took a step forward and suddenly she was wrapped in him. His arms wound around her and gathered her up until she was pressed tight to him, her cheek against the cold, unforgiving chest plate of his suit. His utility belt dug into her stomach, but she didn't care. She couldn't find it in her to do much more than slide her arms around his waist and cry. Her fingers furled in his black cape, holding on tight. All the while his hands, covered in thick Kevlar, moved up and down and around in soothing circles along her back, kneading her shoulders, the nape of her neck.
His chin, covered in his cowl, fell to rest on top of her head. "You weren't hurt," he growled, a statement more than a question.
"They were so close… The door flew open and I just crouched. I watched the whole thing. I…" She squeezed her eyes. "I can still see his face. Both of their faces…"
His fingers gripped her hair tight, his other arm banding tight around her waist. "It's not safe for you out there."
She snorted. "It's not safe for anybody."
"You're tempting fate."
She sighed. "Always have… Probably always will…"
He sighed, frustrated with her.
"Makes you feel better, I'm checking out that apartment you put on hold for me."
He stilled. "What makes you think I got you an apartment?"
She drew her head back to look at him, her brow lifted. "I can count on one hand the number of people I know here, two of which I work with, so I know their salary isn't enough to put a down payment on an apartment for me…" She raised a hand to wipe at the tears still clinging to her cheeks. "That leaves only two. You and Bruce Wayne…" She stared at him searchingly. "While he has the money, I can't see why he'd do that. You, on the other hand, seem pretty adamant that by just walking the streets I'm getting in your way…"
His lips pursed. "You were almost shot tonight."
"I was closer than usual," she argued.
Though she couldn't see it, she felt his eyebrow had been raised beneath his cowl.
"Fine. So I should probably be more careful…" She bit her lip, casting her eyes down. "He mentioned the Joker."
"Who?"
"The man who got shot… Before he died, he said the Joker was coming, that he'd kill us all… I think he was shot because they thought he'd get word out or something… I don't know." She shook her head. "Maybe he suggested fleeing the city before the Joker opened a whole new can of explosive, deadly worms…"
His hand was still at her neck, she noticed, one of his fingers absently stroking through her hair. She realized very abruptly that she was in the arms of Batman, emphasis on the man part. She felt a sudden pang of guilt. Sure, she and Bruce weren't exactly exclusive and she still had her suspicions about Batman's identity, but that didn't change the fact that some part of her felt a little bit like she was getting entirely too close to this caped crusader.
"You still won't leave?" he wondered; the deep, rough timber of his voice made her stomach tighten.
She stared up at him, chin tilted stubbornly. "Listen, I know I might seem a little fragile, being inches from a dying man does that… But I'm not leaving." She raised her brows meaningfully. "I'm staying and I'm watching this whole thing unfold, and I'll write every single word of it, good and bad."
He ground his teeth, staring into her eyes searchingly. "And if next time they do see you hiding in the shadows?"
She swallowed thickly. "Then visit my grave with all your 'I told you so's' but don't start handing them out early." She shook her head. "This isn't my first rodeo. Nothing worth writing about is without its near-death experiences." She offered him a smile. "I've survived this long."
"You weren't in Gotham before."
Her lips twitched agreeably. "I didn't have a winged guardian taking to the skies and watching my back either…"
He looked away. "I won't always be there."
"Which is why I have a tazer," she offered simply.
He growled disagreeably.
"Nothing you say is going to change my mind."
He didn't reply, but he did release her. He walked past her, further into the apartment, and she frowned after him wonderingly. He stopped at her front door, checked the locks, and then returned to the window. "Move out of here," he told her.
She rolled her eyes. "I am."
"Tomorrow."
He didn't wait for her reply, instead leaping from her balcony.
She scowled. He always had to have the last word.
Still, she figured he had a point. She would check out the apartment tomorrow, and if it was up to her standards, she'd move in that afternoon. Or maybe the day after; just to get under his skin.
Grinning, she closed and locked the sliding glass door before making her way back to her bedroom. She figured it was as close to a 'last word' she would get, but it was good enough in her books.
[Next: XVII.]