Fic: Georgian Nights (14/?)
Title: Georgian Nights
Universe: Heavy Nolan with influences by others
Characters: Dr. Jonathan Crane, Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Crane (Kid from the Narrows), Dick Greyson, Original Female Character, Original Male Character
Pairing: Jonathan/Bruce
Rating: NC-17 (full story)
Warnings: Graphic medical procedures, romance, graphic sex, snark, mentions/descriptions of psycological disorders, graphic depictions of animal testing.
Word Count: 26,977 (as of curent chapter)
Summary: Three years after the events of The Dark Knight and Bruce finds Dr. Jonathan Crane somewhere he least expected...Georgia.
Previous Chapters: Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Chapter V, Chapter VI, Chapter VII, Chapter VIII, Chapter IX, Chapter X, Chapter XI, Chapter XII, Chapter XIII.
Chapter Fourteen: Kick in the Teeth
We live in a cold dark world with venom in it's fangs. You can spit it in my face but I know I'll be ok - "Kick in the Teeth"
Jonathan leaned over Nightmare's neck, sighing heavily as he rested his chin against his hand, the other stroking the horse's neck. Bruce had only been gone a few days, and already he was missing his boyfriend terribly.
He knew Bruce couldn't stay, it was impossible when Gotham still needed Batman, but the selfish part of him wanted to rewind back to the summer when there was nothing more important then sitting on the back porch, watching their sons running around as they lay entangled in each other on the lounge.
He raised up as he heard a nose, turning his head. A gunshot sounded in the bushes near where he was and he cried out, startled as Nightmare reared back, knocking Jonathan from her back. The man tumbled through the air, landing hard on the ground, his head smashing against a rock, leaving a blood smear behind as he fell to the side, darkness claiming him.
-
It had been three weeks since Bruce last spoke to Jonathan, distracted by work, Richard and the holiday season suddenly kicking into full gear when he wasn't looking. He sighed, massaging his face, trying again to call Jonathan's cellphone before finally giving up and hanging up the phone, standing and grabbing his jacket, heading to track down his ward as they headed to out to attend yet another holiday party full of people he detested, in particular, one Gresham Blanco
He probably should have read the invitation closer was his main thought as they pulled up to the large house, sharing a look with Richard at the armed guards manning the front door. Bruce stepped out, smiling for the cameras, making his way to Gordon's side, gently placing a hand on the man's shoulder as he leaned in. "This is unusual for a bit of merry making,"
"Blanco has a special guest," Gordon said, not looking at Bruce, staring ahead at the guards. "Her grandson has returned home,"
Bruce froze up, staring at the door, almost unseeing. "Her grandson?" he asked, forcing his voice to stay level.
"Quite," Gordon said and finally looked at Bruce, studying the man he considered a son to him.
"Gordon..." Bruce started and Gordon leaned in, keeping his head ducked against the glare of the reporter's cameras.
"We can't get close to her, Bruce. We're hoping for...leverage,"
Bruce swallowed thickly and turned to speak with his son, only to find Richard had vanished into the crowd, already heading inside once he heard that Jeremiah was in the house. Bruce sighed and followed, forcing an easy smile on his face, mind already a whirl as he tried to think of how to get them out of this mess.
-
"Mr. Wayne, so glad you could join us,"
Bruce winced at the shrill voice, before smiling, clasping Griselda's outstretched hands, kissing her cheek. "I wouldn't turn down the invitation," he said, smiling. The pair stared at each other, silent messages passing between them. Griselda knew Bruce had been at the farm on Halloween night, Carlos had told her that much before the woman had killed him, and Bruce of course, knew who she was...everyone in Gotham did.
"I would like to introduce my grandson, Tucker," She said and swept her arm out, revealing Jeremiah who looked up at Bruce, a dazed, vacant look in his eyes. This was not the boy Bruce had gotten to know for the previous summer.
"Tucker," Bruce said, nodding his head.
"Mr. Wayne," Jeremiah said, and his voice as as flat as a dolls.
Bruce blinked, before looking up at the woman, raising an eyebrow. Griselda smiled, a shark's grin.
"He went through so much these past years, we've had to have him sedated, such horrible memories that plague him, it's all very tragic, but he's working hard to get through the problems,"
"Father, I'm bored," Richard said, suddenly appearing at Bruce's side, a pout on his lips. "There isn't anything fun to do,"
"Perhaps the boys could go off, Ms. Blanco? It would be a bit distracting to have them running around,"
"Quite," Griselda said and nodded to Tucker's security detail. "Keep an eye on them," she snapped before smiling up at Bruce again. "Drinks?"
Richard took Jeremiah's hand, ignoring the two armed guards at their back, giving it a gentle squeeze. There was a long moment where Richard feared he wouldn't get a response, only to have Jeremiah give him the smallest squeeze back, before his fingers curled against Richard's palm, twitching.
-
Bruce was raising a glass of champagne to his lips just as the far doors of the ballroom burst open, women screaming as they darted out of the way of the two thugs that entered, their automatic weapons scanning the room, as three more followed, rolling in several large tanks.
Bruce swallowed thickly as he caught sight of who was behind them, feeling Richard tense next to him.
Jonathan stormed into the ballroom, torn brown leather jacket swirling around his legs as he moved, blue eyes staring at the crowd through the burlap mask. His eyes rested on Griselda. "Where is my son?" he asked.
Bruce could feel a jolt in his stomach as he watched the man across the room from him. It had been a while since he had heard Scarecrow's voice, several months in fact, and to hear it, with Jonathan's own echoing caused a visceral reaction in his body.
This was the first time both personalities had overlaid each other and Bruce could almost see Scarecrow standing behind Jonathan, eyes glowing in rage as they focused purely on the Colombian woman before them.
"How should I know?" Griselda asked, cocking an eyebrow at Jonathan, snorting as she took in the patchwork pants and fading orange doublet. "Really, it's Thanksgiving, not Halloween, nino,"
Jonathan's hand clenched into a fist, rage consuming him as he stared down at the woman that made his life miserable since the moment he had met her. "Give him back, Griselda," he demanded, making a motion with his hand so that the man with guns surrounded her.
Her guards moved and Jonathan's arm shot out, spraying them with powdered toxin, watching as they fell to the floor before approaching Griselda.
He rested a needle gauntleted hand under her chin, tilting her head up as he stared down at her, wanting nothing more then to slip the needles into her flesh, watching as they pierced her muscles and destroyed her mind. "You have two seconds, bitch,"
Griselda spat at him, a laugh spilling from her lips even as she tried to move so as not to impale herself on the needles against her chin. "You'll never get him back," she said and jerked back, ignoring the flesh that came with the needles. She pulled a gun from her small clutch back, firing at Jonathan who dived to the floor.
Bruce jerked Richard down in time as the hired goons on either side of the little war started firing, screaming filling the air. "Where is Jeremiah?" he asked his son, moving them behind an over turned table to better protect them.
"I don't know, I haven't seen him since dinner." Richard reached out, clutching at Bruce's jacket sleeve. "Bruce, he's aware under the medication. He managed to sign to me,"
"What?"
"He knows what's going on, he needs our help,"
"right now, everyone needs our help," Bruce muttered.
"Stop!" Jonathan's voice rang out and Bruce peered over the table, rising a peek.
Jonathan stood, surrounded by the bodies of party goers. He was staring at a trembling figure in the only clear space before him, reaching out towards his son.
Jeremiah looked down the end of the handgun he had taken from his guards, staring at his grandmother, fingers clenching tighter around the handle of the weapon. Griselda opened her mouth to speak and Jeremiah's fingers tightened around the trigger, body jerking with the recoil. He hissed as the flesh of his hand was caught in the slide's motion but shifted his hand, firing again...and again, stopping the motion only when the gun started to click, bullets spent.
"Jeremiah, stop," Jonathan called out, grabbing his son, pushing the gun aside as he pulled him into his arms.
Jeremiah broke down, sobbing, clinging to his father. It would have been a touching moment, if not for the guards who were raising their weapons again, bullets already firing. Jonathan curled over his son, trying to protect the teen's smaller form, hissing as a large force slammed into them.
"Run, you idiot," Bruce hissed, rolling away from the pair, sliding behind a couch, pulling a batarang from his cummerbund, throwing it at the gunmen.
Jonathan rolled to his feet, grabbing Jeremiah's arm and all but dragging his son out of the ballroom, keeping low and using the guests as shields as they fled into the night, trying to hide from the police cars screaming up the large circular driveway.
Glancing around, Jonathan realized his truck was sort of...blocked in and he ran a hand through his hair before replacing the floppy hat. The sound of glass shattering caught his attention and he looked at Jeremiah who had his hand in the window of a BMW, unlocking it.
"That works," he said, joining his son to hot wire the car, ignoring the flashlights chasing over them from the police who heard the sound. He got the car started and shoved Jeremiah in, joining him and throwing the car into reverse, almost backing over one of Gotham's finest before slamming the car into drive, fishtailing as he peeled out.
-
"Car's here," Richard said, looking up at Bruce who was trying to hot tie one of Griselda's men.
Bruce nodded, finishing off the knot before joining Richard as they moved for the tumbler that was waiting outside, on the far side of the house. He nodded to Alfred before popping the trunk, examining the bat suit before jerking off his jacket, not looking forward to having to chase down his boyfriend and boyfriend's son even if they had just committed mass murder.
Universe: Heavy Nolan with influences by others
Characters: Dr. Jonathan Crane, Bruce Wayne, Jeremiah Crane (Kid from the Narrows), Dick Greyson, Original Female Character, Original Male Character
Pairing: Jonathan/Bruce
Rating: NC-17 (full story)
Warnings: Graphic medical procedures, romance, graphic sex, snark, mentions/descriptions of psycological disorders, graphic depictions of animal testing.
Word Count: 26,977 (as of curent chapter)
Summary: Three years after the events of The Dark Knight and Bruce finds Dr. Jonathan Crane somewhere he least expected...Georgia.
Previous Chapters: Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Chapter V, Chapter VI, Chapter VII, Chapter VIII, Chapter IX, Chapter X, Chapter XI, Chapter XII, Chapter XIII.
Chapter Fourteen: Kick in the Teeth
We live in a cold dark world with venom in it's fangs. You can spit it in my face but I know I'll be ok - "Kick in the Teeth"
Jonathan leaned over Nightmare's neck, sighing heavily as he rested his chin against his hand, the other stroking the horse's neck. Bruce had only been gone a few days, and already he was missing his boyfriend terribly.
He knew Bruce couldn't stay, it was impossible when Gotham still needed Batman, but the selfish part of him wanted to rewind back to the summer when there was nothing more important then sitting on the back porch, watching their sons running around as they lay entangled in each other on the lounge.
He raised up as he heard a nose, turning his head. A gunshot sounded in the bushes near where he was and he cried out, startled as Nightmare reared back, knocking Jonathan from her back. The man tumbled through the air, landing hard on the ground, his head smashing against a rock, leaving a blood smear behind as he fell to the side, darkness claiming him.
-
It had been three weeks since Bruce last spoke to Jonathan, distracted by work, Richard and the holiday season suddenly kicking into full gear when he wasn't looking. He sighed, massaging his face, trying again to call Jonathan's cellphone before finally giving up and hanging up the phone, standing and grabbing his jacket, heading to track down his ward as they headed to out to attend yet another holiday party full of people he detested, in particular, one Gresham Blanco
He probably should have read the invitation closer was his main thought as they pulled up to the large house, sharing a look with Richard at the armed guards manning the front door. Bruce stepped out, smiling for the cameras, making his way to Gordon's side, gently placing a hand on the man's shoulder as he leaned in. "This is unusual for a bit of merry making,"
"Blanco has a special guest," Gordon said, not looking at Bruce, staring ahead at the guards. "Her grandson has returned home,"
Bruce froze up, staring at the door, almost unseeing. "Her grandson?" he asked, forcing his voice to stay level.
"Quite," Gordon said and finally looked at Bruce, studying the man he considered a son to him.
"Gordon..." Bruce started and Gordon leaned in, keeping his head ducked against the glare of the reporter's cameras.
"We can't get close to her, Bruce. We're hoping for...leverage,"
Bruce swallowed thickly and turned to speak with his son, only to find Richard had vanished into the crowd, already heading inside once he heard that Jeremiah was in the house. Bruce sighed and followed, forcing an easy smile on his face, mind already a whirl as he tried to think of how to get them out of this mess.
-
"Mr. Wayne, so glad you could join us,"
Bruce winced at the shrill voice, before smiling, clasping Griselda's outstretched hands, kissing her cheek. "I wouldn't turn down the invitation," he said, smiling. The pair stared at each other, silent messages passing between them. Griselda knew Bruce had been at the farm on Halloween night, Carlos had told her that much before the woman had killed him, and Bruce of course, knew who she was...everyone in Gotham did.
"I would like to introduce my grandson, Tucker," She said and swept her arm out, revealing Jeremiah who looked up at Bruce, a dazed, vacant look in his eyes. This was not the boy Bruce had gotten to know for the previous summer.
"Tucker," Bruce said, nodding his head.
"Mr. Wayne," Jeremiah said, and his voice as as flat as a dolls.
Bruce blinked, before looking up at the woman, raising an eyebrow. Griselda smiled, a shark's grin.
"He went through so much these past years, we've had to have him sedated, such horrible memories that plague him, it's all very tragic, but he's working hard to get through the problems,"
"Father, I'm bored," Richard said, suddenly appearing at Bruce's side, a pout on his lips. "There isn't anything fun to do,"
"Perhaps the boys could go off, Ms. Blanco? It would be a bit distracting to have them running around,"
"Quite," Griselda said and nodded to Tucker's security detail. "Keep an eye on them," she snapped before smiling up at Bruce again. "Drinks?"
Richard took Jeremiah's hand, ignoring the two armed guards at their back, giving it a gentle squeeze. There was a long moment where Richard feared he wouldn't get a response, only to have Jeremiah give him the smallest squeeze back, before his fingers curled against Richard's palm, twitching.
-
Bruce was raising a glass of champagne to his lips just as the far doors of the ballroom burst open, women screaming as they darted out of the way of the two thugs that entered, their automatic weapons scanning the room, as three more followed, rolling in several large tanks.
Bruce swallowed thickly as he caught sight of who was behind them, feeling Richard tense next to him.
Jonathan stormed into the ballroom, torn brown leather jacket swirling around his legs as he moved, blue eyes staring at the crowd through the burlap mask. His eyes rested on Griselda. "Where is my son?" he asked.
Bruce could feel a jolt in his stomach as he watched the man across the room from him. It had been a while since he had heard Scarecrow's voice, several months in fact, and to hear it, with Jonathan's own echoing caused a visceral reaction in his body.
This was the first time both personalities had overlaid each other and Bruce could almost see Scarecrow standing behind Jonathan, eyes glowing in rage as they focused purely on the Colombian woman before them.
"How should I know?" Griselda asked, cocking an eyebrow at Jonathan, snorting as she took in the patchwork pants and fading orange doublet. "Really, it's Thanksgiving, not Halloween, nino,"
Jonathan's hand clenched into a fist, rage consuming him as he stared down at the woman that made his life miserable since the moment he had met her. "Give him back, Griselda," he demanded, making a motion with his hand so that the man with guns surrounded her.
Her guards moved and Jonathan's arm shot out, spraying them with powdered toxin, watching as they fell to the floor before approaching Griselda.
He rested a needle gauntleted hand under her chin, tilting her head up as he stared down at her, wanting nothing more then to slip the needles into her flesh, watching as they pierced her muscles and destroyed her mind. "You have two seconds, bitch,"
Griselda spat at him, a laugh spilling from her lips even as she tried to move so as not to impale herself on the needles against her chin. "You'll never get him back," she said and jerked back, ignoring the flesh that came with the needles. She pulled a gun from her small clutch back, firing at Jonathan who dived to the floor.
Bruce jerked Richard down in time as the hired goons on either side of the little war started firing, screaming filling the air. "Where is Jeremiah?" he asked his son, moving them behind an over turned table to better protect them.
"I don't know, I haven't seen him since dinner." Richard reached out, clutching at Bruce's jacket sleeve. "Bruce, he's aware under the medication. He managed to sign to me,"
"What?"
"He knows what's going on, he needs our help,"
"right now, everyone needs our help," Bruce muttered.
"Stop!" Jonathan's voice rang out and Bruce peered over the table, rising a peek.
Jonathan stood, surrounded by the bodies of party goers. He was staring at a trembling figure in the only clear space before him, reaching out towards his son.
Jeremiah looked down the end of the handgun he had taken from his guards, staring at his grandmother, fingers clenching tighter around the handle of the weapon. Griselda opened her mouth to speak and Jeremiah's fingers tightened around the trigger, body jerking with the recoil. He hissed as the flesh of his hand was caught in the slide's motion but shifted his hand, firing again...and again, stopping the motion only when the gun started to click, bullets spent.
"Jeremiah, stop," Jonathan called out, grabbing his son, pushing the gun aside as he pulled him into his arms.
Jeremiah broke down, sobbing, clinging to his father. It would have been a touching moment, if not for the guards who were raising their weapons again, bullets already firing. Jonathan curled over his son, trying to protect the teen's smaller form, hissing as a large force slammed into them.
"Run, you idiot," Bruce hissed, rolling away from the pair, sliding behind a couch, pulling a batarang from his cummerbund, throwing it at the gunmen.
Jonathan rolled to his feet, grabbing Jeremiah's arm and all but dragging his son out of the ballroom, keeping low and using the guests as shields as they fled into the night, trying to hide from the police cars screaming up the large circular driveway.
Glancing around, Jonathan realized his truck was sort of...blocked in and he ran a hand through his hair before replacing the floppy hat. The sound of glass shattering caught his attention and he looked at Jeremiah who had his hand in the window of a BMW, unlocking it.
"That works," he said, joining his son to hot wire the car, ignoring the flashlights chasing over them from the police who heard the sound. He got the car started and shoved Jeremiah in, joining him and throwing the car into reverse, almost backing over one of Gotham's finest before slamming the car into drive, fishtailing as he peeled out.
-
"Car's here," Richard said, looking up at Bruce who was trying to hot tie one of Griselda's men.
Bruce nodded, finishing off the knot before joining Richard as they moved for the tumbler that was waiting outside, on the far side of the house. He nodded to Alfred before popping the trunk, examining the bat suit before jerking off his jacket, not looking forward to having to chase down his boyfriend and boyfriend's son even if they had just committed mass murder.