5 Times Chloe Fell For A Hero and the One Time Her Heart Wasn't Broken - Chloe/Various - NC17 - 4/5
Title: Five Times Chloe Fell For A Hero and the One Time Her Heart Wasn't Broken
Category: Smallville, Batman, Supernatural [Crossover]
Rating: NC17
Genre: Angst/Romance
Pairing: Chloe/Various
Summary: Chloe Sullivan has had too many heartbreaks in her life, but one of these days she's bound to find the right hero, isn't she?
Previous: Part I - Clark Kent, Part II - Oliver Queen, Part III - Jack (OC),
4/5
IV - Bruce Wayne
After Metropolis, Chloe found herself in a city much the opposite. Gotham. It seemed darkness had crept into every crevice and corner, dragging the people down with it. The only bright spot seemed to be set on Wayne Industries, a beacon of hope for the rest of the city. She was given a job at the Gotham Gazette, with barely any real interview to be had. So many of the people were just trying to get by day to day that they rarely cared. Since her mood fit so well with the city, she figured the only way to make herself happy was to do her best at helping Gotham become a better place. And the only way she knew how to do that was to bring to light the darkness and hope that somebody had the fortitude to take what she gave them and put it to good use. She was a little foolhardy, she could admit that. When it came down to it, very little scared her. So walking the streets at night wasn't something she avoided like so many others and chasing down the stories that would easily put her in front of the firing squad was a daily occurrence.
This was how she came to meet her fiancé. Of course, at the time he was just another hero, dressed in black and had a fetish for rodents. When he appeared, she assumed he was expecting more than just a general nod in his direction as she crouched low, tape recorder and hand-held satellite in hand. "Uh, you wanna duck there Batman? I'm trying to stay hidden here."
With a sigh, he bent low next to her and though she couldn't see his brows, she was sure one was raised questioningly. "You shouldn't be here," he said, in a growl that likely would've scared many before her. But given her lifestyle, all it did was remind her that she hadn't been properly laid in far too long. She shook the thought off and glanced back at him.
"I'm sure they'd agree with you," she replied, amused.
"You're going to get yourself killed," he told her firmly.
"And if I do, that will be my fault and not yours," she said, reminded of the last two superheroes who were always looking after her, certain she was walking headfirst into danger at every corner.
He sneered, lips curling. He had really nice teeth she thought absently. "It's my job to keep Gotham safe; that includes everybody who lives here."
"And it's my job to get the dirt on these crooks," she replied, staring at him stubbornly. "You have your ways and I have mine. As you can see, mine includes less Kevlar."
She could tell he was getting frustrated, if the heavy sigh wasn't enough. "You can either leave quietly and safely or I can force you away, kicking and screaming."
"If I kicked and screamed, they'd catch on. If I leave now, I'll miss all the juicy parts. Hmm..." She narrowed her eyes in mock-thought. "I think I'll stay."
"You have no idea what you're getting into."
She snorted. "Trust me, batboy, I know exactly what I'm getting into."
He disappeared without a sound, but she had a feeling he was watching over her, just in case she really did get in trouble. Luckily, that night, she managed to escape with everything she needed and her head still on her shoulders. Her byline hit the papers the next morning, after much arguing with her editor, who was woken up from his dreary funk to tell her she was practically painting a target on her face. She didn't care. In the next few months, she'd be the top writer of the Gotham Gazette, selling more papers than they'd seen in ages. She helped Chief Gordon in his search for justice and she met Batman more often than he probably liked. He always looked frustrated to find her out and about, showing up in the most obscure places. And he'd saved her once or thirteen times, much to her chagrin. The Gotham underworld didn't like her, not one little bit, and they made sure she knew it.
But she was a hard person to crack and she didn't give in to the death threats or the bombs in her third car in the first seven months she lived there. She didn't hide in her apartment or stop going out to find the real story. It only made her work harder, made her try her best to get Gotham back to its roots, before crime and rage had taken it over. And while it was taking a long time, she was doing her part and it was helping.
The first time she met Bruce Wayne, she was sure she'd seen his smile somewhere. It was unusually familiar. She brushed it off; she'd seen a number of beautiful smiles in her lifetime and one of them was from another billionaire she'd known quite well. Bruce was arrogant and charming and he played it well. But she'd known two other billionaires in her lifetime and they were good at putting up a façade too. So she didn't take him at face value and despite how often he seemed to be waiting for her to interview him, she never once did.
"I believe this is sixth time I've been introduced to you, Miss Sullivan," he said one night, as they both stood surrounded by Gotham's elite, celebrating something or other.
"Six already?" she replied, tipping her head in thought. "And here I thought I had better things to do than go to your galas."
He smiled slightly. "Yes, I've noticed how busy you've been. I read your column each morning."
"Scintillating stuff, I'm sure. For a man who's sitting comfortably up in his high-priced, well-secured penthouse, you must feel quite safe though." Her apartment was dingy, barely enough to hold her and her many files. But she refused to let Oliver pay for a safer, more comfortable place. They were friends still and she kept in contact with the League, giving them a hand when needed, but she wouldn't let him buy her an apartment. He wanted her away from the danger, but he had no idea that she wanted to be right in the middle of it. Had to be if she wanted the big scoop; the dirty details; the real core of the story. She wasn't going to hide behind a high-class security system; the bat she kept next to her bed would work just fine. Solid steel and aimed for the face.
He stared at her a moment, lips curling at the corners. "I suppose I do." He nodded slightly. "Your honesty is refreshing."
"You say that now, but just wait until you ask the wrong question." She smiled. He wasn't quite so stiff as she'd seen him in the past.
"And what would the wrong question be?" he queried, lifting a brow.
"If I told you that, it'd ruin my fun." She tipped her champagne glass to clink with his. "Nice seeing you again, Mr. Wayne, enjoy your night," she said before turning on her heel and leaving him. She was out of her floor length gown, one of the many she'd worn out while on the arm of Oliver, and back into a pair of jeans and a warm sweater before anybody could question her disappearance. And then it was back to work, scouring the city for more of its cretins, looking for the real story.
For an hour, she was concealed by the darkness, blending right into the grimy surroundings as she walked the streets silently, hands stuffed in her pockets, shoulders hunched, giving nothing away to make anyone assume she was a well-known reporter. He swooped down next to her as she took a shortcut through an alley. She barely heard the rustle of his cape before he was at her side.
"Intrepid reporters don't celebrate New Years?"
So that was what the gala had been for. Hmm... Never even crossed her mind. "We have better things to do," she replied easily. "Apparently, bats don't either."
"We have better things to do," he reiterated.
She smiled. "And what are you doing tonight that's so special? Besides stalking me, of course."
"I prefer the term protecting. You have a bad habit of getting shot at."
She was fairly sure he was smirking. "And you have a bad habit of taking the bullet for me," she snarked, rolling her eyes.
"Gets easier every day."
"Glad I could help."
He looked over at her with a frown. "Where are you headed?"
"Not sure yet. Have you seen any suspicious behavior?" When he didn't answer, she grinned. "Right. I should probably be more specific." She turned to him. "Any mob bosses nearby?"
"What makes you think I'd show you?"
"Because despite how often you discourage my behavior, I think deep down you appreciate what I'm doing." She stared at him, all trussed up in the darkest of blacks, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.
"I'm not sure which is more trouble... You or the guys over on fifth avenue."
She smirked, winking at him in thanks before she turned back around. "You gonna join me or-" She sighed as she glanced back to find him missing. "It's common courtesy to say goodbye," she shouted upward, hoping he heard.
When she met Bruce the next time, he was sitting in her office, reading a Forbes magazine and looking much too comfortable in her not-exactly updated surroundings. Looked like the furniture hadn't been replaced since the eighties and her computer was prehistoric. Thankfully, she had her laptop. If she hadn't been told he was in her office, she would've stayed home to work on her latest piece, but here she was, walking through the door that still bore the name of the last known reporter and taking a seat in the squeaky chair behind her desk.
"How can I help you, Mr. Wayne?" she asked, lifting a brow. She really didn't have time for hobnobbing.
He smiled slowly. "It's come to my attention that I haven't welcomed our newest reporter sufficiently. You've been doing Gotham a great service and I felt it was only in my best interests to get to know you better."
She smiled slightly. "Somehow I get the feeling that I've surpassed the timeline most people thought I'd survive... Are you just coming to the conclusion I might actually be here to stay?"
His expression was warmer than she expected. "I'm hoping you will."
She nodded before standing up. "Well... Seeing as you interrupted by lunch, why don't you make it up to me?"
He grinned though it didn't quite reach his eyes and stood from his seat. "I believe I can do that." He offered her an arm and she took it, feeling that familiar tightening in her stomach.
What started out as an innocent lunch date quickly became so much more. Despite telling herself it wasn't a good idea to get involved with him, she couldn't stop herself. They kept it casual for the first while; lunch dates and dinners that ended with nothing but a wistful goodbye. As handsome and enticing as Bruce was, she feared anything more than friendship was asking for trouble. If it wasn't his multi-billionaire status, it was the constant toe tag chasing after her. But as she continued to try and keep him at a distance, he broke through with very little resistance. The first time they kissed, she was sure someone had literally set her on fire. She was so absorbed however, she didn't even consider pulling away and calling for help. She was fully ready to die if it meant her last few moments would be connected to his lips.
She knew about his side-life long before he ever thought of telling her. She finally recognized that mouth; the smile that had always quirked her investigative itch. The illustrious Bruce Wayne was in fact, Batman. The not-so-subtle superhero who never refrained from telling her how dangerous it was for her to be walking the streets at night. It wasn't long before her boyfriend was singing the same tune, only in a much less low and growling tone. She didn't tell him. She instead waited to see how long it would be before he finally told her. Obviously he needed to know he could trust her and so it took some time before he let her know anything related to that side of himself.
She was pretty sure he blamed himself when the one time she got shot was the one and only time he hadn't been in town to watch over the city by roof top, flying in to save the day. Despite her powers, she wasn't able to heal herself like she often wished and so she was left in a dank little alleyway, one of her many unappreciative readers running off with his laughter trailing back to her. Her vision faded; her last thought was of how she hoped she had at least been worth a million dollar bullet. When she woke back up, she was in the newly built Gotham General, heavily guarded and shrouded by long white curtains on three sides of her.
The bearded and overly tired looking man sitting in the chair next to her bed was sure to have a kink in his neck when he woke up. She smiled slightly, just staring at him for a moment. He looked like he'd been there for awhile if the scruff around his jaw was anything to go by. He was always freshly shaved and in his prime for the many on-lookers. He had to keep up an image after all. The dark marks beneath his eyes told her he hadn't been sleeping much and she wondered just how long she'd been out. She reached out for him, the various tubes connected to her wrist hindering her slightly. She gathered up her strength and managed to brush the brown bangs from his forehead, her fingertips grazing his skin lightly. He stirred, brow furrowing as it often did when he woke up, the troubles of the city resting on his shoulders once more. He blinked slightly, still asleep. She ran her thumb over one of his eyebrows, tracing the hollow of his eye and down to his cheek, letting her three middle fingers wander over the plains of his face delicately. Then his eyes opened fully and he sat forward, alert and awake, taking her hand into his, holding it tightly.
"You're awake," he said, his voice low.
"So it would seem," she murmured, her throat scratchy. "How long...?" She lifted a questioning brow.
"Four days," he replied, eyes falling. "They weren't sure you'd..."
She squeezed his hand. "I'm fine." She smiled at him. "Nearly die and I don't even get a kiss hello?"
He smiled at her, leaning across the bed to smooth his lips across hers. She sighed lightly, her arm raising, hand falling to the back of his neck, fingers threading in his dark hair. He kissed her deeply, passionately, sparing no show of affection as he thoroughly tangled his tongue with hers, his lips melding with hers so much, she wasn't sure which was her mouth and which was his. When he drew back, she was panting slightly and a whole lot more awake.
"That's more like it," she whispered, grinning.
He took his seat back at her side, his hand running down the side of her face, pushing her blonde hair away. "If I'd been here..."
"It's not your fault," she told him, shaking her head. "I told you... If I die, it's my fault, not yours."
His brow furrowed, lips pursing. "You know..."
"You doubted?" She lifted a brow.
He half-smiled. "Guess I don't have to worry about all that flirting you've been doing with my alter-ego."
She chuckled. "Completely harmless."
After her umpteenth near death experience, he made sure her security was at an all-time high and for awhile, she was all right with that, until he wanted them to go with her while she was out looking for the next scoop. She drew the line there. They'd get her caught and everybody would be out looking for the woman surrounded by the six giants all dressed in suits and talking into their cuff links. It was an on-going fight, but he let her have her way. Mostly because in the end, she'd sneak out; she learned quick how to get around his security system.
Being the girlfriend of Bruce Wayne didn't make her any more liked by the mob. Instead, they found another reason to get rid of her. Wayne Industries only helped the city, making it more productive and sparking hope in its patrons, which didn't help any of the crime rings out in the least. So they figured targeting her would bring Bruce down a notch, all it did was serve to piss him off. Or, probably more dangerous, it pissed Batman off.
During the three years of their relationship, she was in many minor scrapes, but nothing too life threatening. Most of the time, she could come back to the apartment, which he'd half-forced her to move into with him, and she had only half-argued over, and have Alfred clean her up. Sometimes, he could be like a mother-hen though. Muttering over how dangerous both she and Master Bruce were, always getting into trouble and coming home bloodied and broken. She wasn't allowed to sit on the white sofa for three months after she accidentally got blood on it one time. He'd give her that look and she'd immediately sigh before moving to sit elsewhere.
It came as no surprise to anybody but her when Bruce proposed. She was comfortable in their relationship; he fought danger by night while she chased down leads, and during the day they were simply Bruce and Chloe. Plus she couldn't really deny the fact that after he got back from patrolling, the adrenaline still pumping through them both made for some great "glad you're okay" sex. More than once, they'd been interrupted by Alfred telling them they were bothering the neighbors and he couldn't sleep a wink. He was a great lover; tender but rough, soft but hard, loving but angry. Lying in bed with him, she often forgot about the darkness outside. Because under those covers, their bodies entwined, he was just Bruce to her. With his arrogant smirk and loving eyes, filled with a darkness that she swore only disappeared right after they made love, where he seemed so content, so utterly spent, so blissful that nothing could tear him down.
She could spend hours listening to the thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear. The only thing that came close was the click clack of her laptop. He could made her warm with one heated look from his eyes, make her wet with a simple growl, make her want him with just a twitch of his lips. And he never forgot it, either. He relished in the many ways he could make her body respond while barely even touching her. Similarly, she found she had nearly as much power over him. She could tell from just the tilt of his head what he was thinking when she gave him that special smile. Could anticipate that look he'd give her whenever she sent him one of her own. And she wasn't unaware of how often he wished he could shed his Batman gear and take her against the dirty wall of the city.
But when he knelt down that night, while they sat in front of the fireplace, dressed in a couple of robes and bare beneath, she was fairly sure her heart stopped beating. He stared up at her, lips curved at the corners, a brow lifted. He put a box in her lap, his hands wrapping around her thighs, stroking them through the thin fabric of her satin gown. She breathed heavily, reaching for the box with shaking hands and lifted the top, swallowing the ball of emotion as the black diamond engagement ring stared up at her. It was beautiful and not chunky either, which she appreciated. He'd tried buying her more glamorous pieces in the past, but they didn't fit her. So he learned to go more subtle, more to her style, and he got it right this time. This ring... it was... perfect.
"Bruce..." she murmured, tearing her eyes away to stare at him.
"I never thought I'd meet anybody who could understand both halves... Who could accept both lifestyles... But you do." He reached for the ring, plucked it from the box and took her hand. "Say yes."
She swallowed tightly. "I... I don't know what to..."
"Do you love me?"
"Of course." And she did. She loved all of him; the dark and the light. The way he never quite smiled, but he did more with her than anybody else.
"Then say yes."
She licked her lips, glanced down and then took a breath. "Yes."
He smiled, or as near as he was ever going to get, and he slid the ring onto her finger before capturing her mouth. They made love in front of the fire three times that night, the carpet doing nothing for her bare back. When he finally dozed off, sprawled out beneath her, completely trusting of her as she laid awake overtop him, their legs entwined, she stared at the ring sitting elegantly on her finger. She listened to the thump of his heart and closed her eyes. Maybe happiness wasn't so elusive after all.
Of course, her life was never meant to be easy. In the next few months, the hits became more and more creative. The scrapes became constant hospital visits rather than just a quick clean up with Alfred. And Batman couldn't always be there to watch her back; he had the rest of the city to contend with. She didn't stop her writing, if anything it got edgier; hit them right where it hurts. She saw more and more criminals being put away; she sat on the witness stand and pointed them out to the judge and jury, waved goodbye as yet another was sentenced. And she was shot, stabbed, bombed and threatened time and time again. But she survived.
Until one day it became too much. Three weeks and she was in the hospital at least two or three times a day. It got so that she couldn't walk down the street without something happening. They didn't care if it was broad daylight or not; they wanted her gone. And the security guards Bruce had hired couldn't be trusted. It was either hide away and stop writing, or keep trying until it finally got her killed. Bruce couldn't take it. He'd lost a love before her and he wasn't willing to lose her too... Not this way.
"You can't stay," he told her one night as he stared out over the city, brooding over the revelation.
"If I leave, they win," she replied, shaking her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I won't let them. I can't."
"If you die, they win."
"So I won't die."
He turned around abruptly, now wearing the expression Batman so often bore. "You're not invincible. I think the last few weeks have proven that," he said through grit teeth.
"But I've survived."
"Barely," he growled.
"I won't let them win!" she yelled, throwing her hands up. "I will not stand by and let them scare me into running away. I won't let them get any stronger than they already are."
"They'll keep hunting you; keep shooting at you as you walk down the streets. They aren't going to give up. And if they can't get to you, who do you think they'll turn to next? Friends, family, innocent people! Can you handle that you might be the reason they die?" He was only being honest, but she hated him for it.
Her heart rose up into her throat. "What would you have me do?" She shook her head. "Leave? Run? Walk away from you?" Her mouth quivered. "I can't."
He reached for her, clasped her arm and drew her closer. "I can't watch you die."
She stared up at him. "I can't be a coward."
He brushed her hair from her face, pressed his forehead to hers and sighed. "You're so stubborn."
He said it fondly and she nearly smiled, but her tears thwarted any sense of amusement.
She inhaled deeply, trying to push her tears away. "So what do we do?"
He stroked her cheek with his thumb, like he often did. "You die."
She clenched her eyes closed. "Go out looking like a hero rather than a target, is that it?"
"We were in the park... We were attacked... You didn't make it, but you went down fighting..." He swallowed so tightly, she could hear it. "I was shot in the process... I couldn't save you..." She could hear his heartbeat now, racing and thumping loudly. He kissed her, hard and desperate. "I couldn't save you," he repeated.
She felt her tears slide down her cheeks then and his fingers swiping them away. "And they'll all remember the intrepid reporter who gave her all to save the city..." He stared at her, eyes darker than usual, the sadness creeping back in. "I'll always remember her." His jaw twitched, in the way it often did when he was restraining himself.
"And I just disappear, don't I?" She let her eyes fall.
"You could never stand captivity; stuck here, hidden away..." His strong arms wrapped around her and she buried her face against his chest.
"How can you just... say goodbye?" she asked, shaking her head, gasping for air as her chest clenched. Everything inside of her hurt in that moment.
"I suppose I love you enough to let you go," he said lowly, the voice of Batman and Bruce Wayne all wrapped in one.
"You suppose?" she said cheekily, letting out a faint laugh that held no amusement.
"You always knew something like this could happen," he reminded, his hands holding tight to her, so large and warm against her back.
She nodded. "I guess I hoped it'd be awhile longer," she murmured. She wanted to ask him to come with her. If one of them could fake a death, two wouldn't be much harder. He had the connections and resources. The question was right there on the end of her tongue, but she already knew his answer. He belonged in Gotham and while she was sure much of her did, if only because so much of her felt like it belonged with him, she knew he was right. She had to leave. She hated running, she abhorred hiding, but in the end she had to choose between dying and living. She wanted to live, but she wasn't sure she wanted to go about it without him. Selfishly, she wanted to wave goodbye to Gotham, tell them she was sorry, but she was taking their last hope with her too. But maybe they needed him more than she did... Though she felt it was unlikely.
Chloe Sullivan was a hero in her own right, however. And she chose the essence of good over her own heart. She undressed him one last time and rode him until sun up. She kissed every inch of him, memorized every angle, every scar and stitch and muscle in his entire body. She flew to the highest of ecstasies and screamed his name until she was hoarse. And when he'd wake the next morning, Chloe Sullivan was gone, the black diamond engagement ring sitting on his bedside table. She'd see the news later, read the papers, and know...
"It's a truly sad day in Gotham as it has come to light that fiancée to billionaire Bruce Wayne, investigative reporter for Gotham Gazette Chloe Sullivan was brutally murdered this morning. Well known for her gritty exposes on the crime scene in Gotham, Miss Sullivan had been a witness in at least twenty-three separate lawsuits against various crime families. It was well known by the police force that she was being targeted by said groups, but it seemed there was not enough interest to keep her safe. During a stroll in the park, the newly engaged couple was attacked by unknown assailants. According to Mr. Wayne, Miss Sullivan put up a strong fight but in the end, she wasn't able to survive the gun shot wound she suffered. This would be the seventh time she was admitted to hospital from such a wound and it seemed luck was not on her side. Bruce Wayne is currently in hospital, having barely survived his own brutal attack. I'm Sara Franklin for Gotham News and all of us here would like to take a moment of silence for our fallen hero... Our condolences are with Mr. Wayne tonight..."
Pictures flashed over the screen... When she first arrived, beaming for the camera as she held up her champagne flute; her and Bruce at some gala, his arm around her waist and her head bowed as he whispered against her ear; her posing next to Chief Gordon outside of City Hall after another won case and many, many more. She turned off the TV and rolled onto her side, burrowing into the scratchy blanket of the motel she was staying in.
In the years to come, he would never marry and many would speculate that he had never really gotten over her. He dated periodically, but it was never like how it used to be. He could no longer pretend to be the billionaire playboy he had been. It gave him an excuse to get out of the limelight some though and take up his activities as Batman more frequently. She kept up with the Gotham Gazette and she admired how much he cleaned up the streets. She said farewell to her dark knight that early morning and she stepped out into the bright light of a neighboring city. She climbed into her beat up car and took to the road; it seemed settling down just wasn't the life for her. So she put her heart away, locked it up in an impenetrable box and vowed that she was done... Chloe Sullivan would never love again. She was done with love and all of its heartbreak.
Bruce Wayne was the last hero she'd ever open herself up to... or so she thought.
[ Next: Part V - The One.]
Category: Smallville, Batman, Supernatural [Crossover]
Rating: NC17
Genre: Angst/Romance
Pairing: Chloe/Various
Summary: Chloe Sullivan has had too many heartbreaks in her life, but one of these days she's bound to find the right hero, isn't she?
Previous: Part I - Clark Kent, Part II - Oliver Queen, Part III - Jack (OC),
4/5
IV - Bruce Wayne
After Metropolis, Chloe found herself in a city much the opposite. Gotham. It seemed darkness had crept into every crevice and corner, dragging the people down with it. The only bright spot seemed to be set on Wayne Industries, a beacon of hope for the rest of the city. She was given a job at the Gotham Gazette, with barely any real interview to be had. So many of the people were just trying to get by day to day that they rarely cared. Since her mood fit so well with the city, she figured the only way to make herself happy was to do her best at helping Gotham become a better place. And the only way she knew how to do that was to bring to light the darkness and hope that somebody had the fortitude to take what she gave them and put it to good use. She was a little foolhardy, she could admit that. When it came down to it, very little scared her. So walking the streets at night wasn't something she avoided like so many others and chasing down the stories that would easily put her in front of the firing squad was a daily occurrence.
This was how she came to meet her fiancé. Of course, at the time he was just another hero, dressed in black and had a fetish for rodents. When he appeared, she assumed he was expecting more than just a general nod in his direction as she crouched low, tape recorder and hand-held satellite in hand. "Uh, you wanna duck there Batman? I'm trying to stay hidden here."
With a sigh, he bent low next to her and though she couldn't see his brows, she was sure one was raised questioningly. "You shouldn't be here," he said, in a growl that likely would've scared many before her. But given her lifestyle, all it did was remind her that she hadn't been properly laid in far too long. She shook the thought off and glanced back at him.
"I'm sure they'd agree with you," she replied, amused.
"You're going to get yourself killed," he told her firmly.
"And if I do, that will be my fault and not yours," she said, reminded of the last two superheroes who were always looking after her, certain she was walking headfirst into danger at every corner.
He sneered, lips curling. He had really nice teeth she thought absently. "It's my job to keep Gotham safe; that includes everybody who lives here."
"And it's my job to get the dirt on these crooks," she replied, staring at him stubbornly. "You have your ways and I have mine. As you can see, mine includes less Kevlar."
She could tell he was getting frustrated, if the heavy sigh wasn't enough. "You can either leave quietly and safely or I can force you away, kicking and screaming."
"If I kicked and screamed, they'd catch on. If I leave now, I'll miss all the juicy parts. Hmm..." She narrowed her eyes in mock-thought. "I think I'll stay."
"You have no idea what you're getting into."
She snorted. "Trust me, batboy, I know exactly what I'm getting into."
He disappeared without a sound, but she had a feeling he was watching over her, just in case she really did get in trouble. Luckily, that night, she managed to escape with everything she needed and her head still on her shoulders. Her byline hit the papers the next morning, after much arguing with her editor, who was woken up from his dreary funk to tell her she was practically painting a target on her face. She didn't care. In the next few months, she'd be the top writer of the Gotham Gazette, selling more papers than they'd seen in ages. She helped Chief Gordon in his search for justice and she met Batman more often than he probably liked. He always looked frustrated to find her out and about, showing up in the most obscure places. And he'd saved her once or thirteen times, much to her chagrin. The Gotham underworld didn't like her, not one little bit, and they made sure she knew it.
But she was a hard person to crack and she didn't give in to the death threats or the bombs in her third car in the first seven months she lived there. She didn't hide in her apartment or stop going out to find the real story. It only made her work harder, made her try her best to get Gotham back to its roots, before crime and rage had taken it over. And while it was taking a long time, she was doing her part and it was helping.
The first time she met Bruce Wayne, she was sure she'd seen his smile somewhere. It was unusually familiar. She brushed it off; she'd seen a number of beautiful smiles in her lifetime and one of them was from another billionaire she'd known quite well. Bruce was arrogant and charming and he played it well. But she'd known two other billionaires in her lifetime and they were good at putting up a façade too. So she didn't take him at face value and despite how often he seemed to be waiting for her to interview him, she never once did.
"I believe this is sixth time I've been introduced to you, Miss Sullivan," he said one night, as they both stood surrounded by Gotham's elite, celebrating something or other.
"Six already?" she replied, tipping her head in thought. "And here I thought I had better things to do than go to your galas."
He smiled slightly. "Yes, I've noticed how busy you've been. I read your column each morning."
"Scintillating stuff, I'm sure. For a man who's sitting comfortably up in his high-priced, well-secured penthouse, you must feel quite safe though." Her apartment was dingy, barely enough to hold her and her many files. But she refused to let Oliver pay for a safer, more comfortable place. They were friends still and she kept in contact with the League, giving them a hand when needed, but she wouldn't let him buy her an apartment. He wanted her away from the danger, but he had no idea that she wanted to be right in the middle of it. Had to be if she wanted the big scoop; the dirty details; the real core of the story. She wasn't going to hide behind a high-class security system; the bat she kept next to her bed would work just fine. Solid steel and aimed for the face.
He stared at her a moment, lips curling at the corners. "I suppose I do." He nodded slightly. "Your honesty is refreshing."
"You say that now, but just wait until you ask the wrong question." She smiled. He wasn't quite so stiff as she'd seen him in the past.
"And what would the wrong question be?" he queried, lifting a brow.
"If I told you that, it'd ruin my fun." She tipped her champagne glass to clink with his. "Nice seeing you again, Mr. Wayne, enjoy your night," she said before turning on her heel and leaving him. She was out of her floor length gown, one of the many she'd worn out while on the arm of Oliver, and back into a pair of jeans and a warm sweater before anybody could question her disappearance. And then it was back to work, scouring the city for more of its cretins, looking for the real story.
For an hour, she was concealed by the darkness, blending right into the grimy surroundings as she walked the streets silently, hands stuffed in her pockets, shoulders hunched, giving nothing away to make anyone assume she was a well-known reporter. He swooped down next to her as she took a shortcut through an alley. She barely heard the rustle of his cape before he was at her side.
"Intrepid reporters don't celebrate New Years?"
So that was what the gala had been for. Hmm... Never even crossed her mind. "We have better things to do," she replied easily. "Apparently, bats don't either."
"We have better things to do," he reiterated.
She smiled. "And what are you doing tonight that's so special? Besides stalking me, of course."
"I prefer the term protecting. You have a bad habit of getting shot at."
She was fairly sure he was smirking. "And you have a bad habit of taking the bullet for me," she snarked, rolling her eyes.
"Gets easier every day."
"Glad I could help."
He looked over at her with a frown. "Where are you headed?"
"Not sure yet. Have you seen any suspicious behavior?" When he didn't answer, she grinned. "Right. I should probably be more specific." She turned to him. "Any mob bosses nearby?"
"What makes you think I'd show you?"
"Because despite how often you discourage my behavior, I think deep down you appreciate what I'm doing." She stared at him, all trussed up in the darkest of blacks, eyes narrowed, lips pursed.
"I'm not sure which is more trouble... You or the guys over on fifth avenue."
She smirked, winking at him in thanks before she turned back around. "You gonna join me or-" She sighed as she glanced back to find him missing. "It's common courtesy to say goodbye," she shouted upward, hoping he heard.
When she met Bruce the next time, he was sitting in her office, reading a Forbes magazine and looking much too comfortable in her not-exactly updated surroundings. Looked like the furniture hadn't been replaced since the eighties and her computer was prehistoric. Thankfully, she had her laptop. If she hadn't been told he was in her office, she would've stayed home to work on her latest piece, but here she was, walking through the door that still bore the name of the last known reporter and taking a seat in the squeaky chair behind her desk.
"How can I help you, Mr. Wayne?" she asked, lifting a brow. She really didn't have time for hobnobbing.
He smiled slowly. "It's come to my attention that I haven't welcomed our newest reporter sufficiently. You've been doing Gotham a great service and I felt it was only in my best interests to get to know you better."
She smiled slightly. "Somehow I get the feeling that I've surpassed the timeline most people thought I'd survive... Are you just coming to the conclusion I might actually be here to stay?"
His expression was warmer than she expected. "I'm hoping you will."
She nodded before standing up. "Well... Seeing as you interrupted by lunch, why don't you make it up to me?"
He grinned though it didn't quite reach his eyes and stood from his seat. "I believe I can do that." He offered her an arm and she took it, feeling that familiar tightening in her stomach.
What started out as an innocent lunch date quickly became so much more. Despite telling herself it wasn't a good idea to get involved with him, she couldn't stop herself. They kept it casual for the first while; lunch dates and dinners that ended with nothing but a wistful goodbye. As handsome and enticing as Bruce was, she feared anything more than friendship was asking for trouble. If it wasn't his multi-billionaire status, it was the constant toe tag chasing after her. But as she continued to try and keep him at a distance, he broke through with very little resistance. The first time they kissed, she was sure someone had literally set her on fire. She was so absorbed however, she didn't even consider pulling away and calling for help. She was fully ready to die if it meant her last few moments would be connected to his lips.
She knew about his side-life long before he ever thought of telling her. She finally recognized that mouth; the smile that had always quirked her investigative itch. The illustrious Bruce Wayne was in fact, Batman. The not-so-subtle superhero who never refrained from telling her how dangerous it was for her to be walking the streets at night. It wasn't long before her boyfriend was singing the same tune, only in a much less low and growling tone. She didn't tell him. She instead waited to see how long it would be before he finally told her. Obviously he needed to know he could trust her and so it took some time before he let her know anything related to that side of himself.
She was pretty sure he blamed himself when the one time she got shot was the one and only time he hadn't been in town to watch over the city by roof top, flying in to save the day. Despite her powers, she wasn't able to heal herself like she often wished and so she was left in a dank little alleyway, one of her many unappreciative readers running off with his laughter trailing back to her. Her vision faded; her last thought was of how she hoped she had at least been worth a million dollar bullet. When she woke back up, she was in the newly built Gotham General, heavily guarded and shrouded by long white curtains on three sides of her.
The bearded and overly tired looking man sitting in the chair next to her bed was sure to have a kink in his neck when he woke up. She smiled slightly, just staring at him for a moment. He looked like he'd been there for awhile if the scruff around his jaw was anything to go by. He was always freshly shaved and in his prime for the many on-lookers. He had to keep up an image after all. The dark marks beneath his eyes told her he hadn't been sleeping much and she wondered just how long she'd been out. She reached out for him, the various tubes connected to her wrist hindering her slightly. She gathered up her strength and managed to brush the brown bangs from his forehead, her fingertips grazing his skin lightly. He stirred, brow furrowing as it often did when he woke up, the troubles of the city resting on his shoulders once more. He blinked slightly, still asleep. She ran her thumb over one of his eyebrows, tracing the hollow of his eye and down to his cheek, letting her three middle fingers wander over the plains of his face delicately. Then his eyes opened fully and he sat forward, alert and awake, taking her hand into his, holding it tightly.
"You're awake," he said, his voice low.
"So it would seem," she murmured, her throat scratchy. "How long...?" She lifted a questioning brow.
"Four days," he replied, eyes falling. "They weren't sure you'd..."
She squeezed his hand. "I'm fine." She smiled at him. "Nearly die and I don't even get a kiss hello?"
He smiled at her, leaning across the bed to smooth his lips across hers. She sighed lightly, her arm raising, hand falling to the back of his neck, fingers threading in his dark hair. He kissed her deeply, passionately, sparing no show of affection as he thoroughly tangled his tongue with hers, his lips melding with hers so much, she wasn't sure which was her mouth and which was his. When he drew back, she was panting slightly and a whole lot more awake.
"That's more like it," she whispered, grinning.
He took his seat back at her side, his hand running down the side of her face, pushing her blonde hair away. "If I'd been here..."
"It's not your fault," she told him, shaking her head. "I told you... If I die, it's my fault, not yours."
His brow furrowed, lips pursing. "You know..."
"You doubted?" She lifted a brow.
He half-smiled. "Guess I don't have to worry about all that flirting you've been doing with my alter-ego."
She chuckled. "Completely harmless."
After her umpteenth near death experience, he made sure her security was at an all-time high and for awhile, she was all right with that, until he wanted them to go with her while she was out looking for the next scoop. She drew the line there. They'd get her caught and everybody would be out looking for the woman surrounded by the six giants all dressed in suits and talking into their cuff links. It was an on-going fight, but he let her have her way. Mostly because in the end, she'd sneak out; she learned quick how to get around his security system.
Being the girlfriend of Bruce Wayne didn't make her any more liked by the mob. Instead, they found another reason to get rid of her. Wayne Industries only helped the city, making it more productive and sparking hope in its patrons, which didn't help any of the crime rings out in the least. So they figured targeting her would bring Bruce down a notch, all it did was serve to piss him off. Or, probably more dangerous, it pissed Batman off.
During the three years of their relationship, she was in many minor scrapes, but nothing too life threatening. Most of the time, she could come back to the apartment, which he'd half-forced her to move into with him, and she had only half-argued over, and have Alfred clean her up. Sometimes, he could be like a mother-hen though. Muttering over how dangerous both she and Master Bruce were, always getting into trouble and coming home bloodied and broken. She wasn't allowed to sit on the white sofa for three months after she accidentally got blood on it one time. He'd give her that look and she'd immediately sigh before moving to sit elsewhere.
It came as no surprise to anybody but her when Bruce proposed. She was comfortable in their relationship; he fought danger by night while she chased down leads, and during the day they were simply Bruce and Chloe. Plus she couldn't really deny the fact that after he got back from patrolling, the adrenaline still pumping through them both made for some great "glad you're okay" sex. More than once, they'd been interrupted by Alfred telling them they were bothering the neighbors and he couldn't sleep a wink. He was a great lover; tender but rough, soft but hard, loving but angry. Lying in bed with him, she often forgot about the darkness outside. Because under those covers, their bodies entwined, he was just Bruce to her. With his arrogant smirk and loving eyes, filled with a darkness that she swore only disappeared right after they made love, where he seemed so content, so utterly spent, so blissful that nothing could tear him down.
She could spend hours listening to the thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear. The only thing that came close was the click clack of her laptop. He could made her warm with one heated look from his eyes, make her wet with a simple growl, make her want him with just a twitch of his lips. And he never forgot it, either. He relished in the many ways he could make her body respond while barely even touching her. Similarly, she found she had nearly as much power over him. She could tell from just the tilt of his head what he was thinking when she gave him that special smile. Could anticipate that look he'd give her whenever she sent him one of her own. And she wasn't unaware of how often he wished he could shed his Batman gear and take her against the dirty wall of the city.
But when he knelt down that night, while they sat in front of the fireplace, dressed in a couple of robes and bare beneath, she was fairly sure her heart stopped beating. He stared up at her, lips curved at the corners, a brow lifted. He put a box in her lap, his hands wrapping around her thighs, stroking them through the thin fabric of her satin gown. She breathed heavily, reaching for the box with shaking hands and lifted the top, swallowing the ball of emotion as the black diamond engagement ring stared up at her. It was beautiful and not chunky either, which she appreciated. He'd tried buying her more glamorous pieces in the past, but they didn't fit her. So he learned to go more subtle, more to her style, and he got it right this time. This ring... it was... perfect.
"Bruce..." she murmured, tearing her eyes away to stare at him.
"I never thought I'd meet anybody who could understand both halves... Who could accept both lifestyles... But you do." He reached for the ring, plucked it from the box and took her hand. "Say yes."
She swallowed tightly. "I... I don't know what to..."
"Do you love me?"
"Of course." And she did. She loved all of him; the dark and the light. The way he never quite smiled, but he did more with her than anybody else.
"Then say yes."
She licked her lips, glanced down and then took a breath. "Yes."
He smiled, or as near as he was ever going to get, and he slid the ring onto her finger before capturing her mouth. They made love in front of the fire three times that night, the carpet doing nothing for her bare back. When he finally dozed off, sprawled out beneath her, completely trusting of her as she laid awake overtop him, their legs entwined, she stared at the ring sitting elegantly on her finger. She listened to the thump of his heart and closed her eyes. Maybe happiness wasn't so elusive after all.
Of course, her life was never meant to be easy. In the next few months, the hits became more and more creative. The scrapes became constant hospital visits rather than just a quick clean up with Alfred. And Batman couldn't always be there to watch her back; he had the rest of the city to contend with. She didn't stop her writing, if anything it got edgier; hit them right where it hurts. She saw more and more criminals being put away; she sat on the witness stand and pointed them out to the judge and jury, waved goodbye as yet another was sentenced. And she was shot, stabbed, bombed and threatened time and time again. But she survived.
Until one day it became too much. Three weeks and she was in the hospital at least two or three times a day. It got so that she couldn't walk down the street without something happening. They didn't care if it was broad daylight or not; they wanted her gone. And the security guards Bruce had hired couldn't be trusted. It was either hide away and stop writing, or keep trying until it finally got her killed. Bruce couldn't take it. He'd lost a love before her and he wasn't willing to lose her too... Not this way.
"You can't stay," he told her one night as he stared out over the city, brooding over the revelation.
"If I leave, they win," she replied, shaking her head as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I won't let them. I can't."
"If you die, they win."
"So I won't die."
He turned around abruptly, now wearing the expression Batman so often bore. "You're not invincible. I think the last few weeks have proven that," he said through grit teeth.
"But I've survived."
"Barely," he growled.
"I won't let them win!" she yelled, throwing her hands up. "I will not stand by and let them scare me into running away. I won't let them get any stronger than they already are."
"They'll keep hunting you; keep shooting at you as you walk down the streets. They aren't going to give up. And if they can't get to you, who do you think they'll turn to next? Friends, family, innocent people! Can you handle that you might be the reason they die?" He was only being honest, but she hated him for it.
Her heart rose up into her throat. "What would you have me do?" She shook her head. "Leave? Run? Walk away from you?" Her mouth quivered. "I can't."
He reached for her, clasped her arm and drew her closer. "I can't watch you die."
She stared up at him. "I can't be a coward."
He brushed her hair from her face, pressed his forehead to hers and sighed. "You're so stubborn."
He said it fondly and she nearly smiled, but her tears thwarted any sense of amusement.
She inhaled deeply, trying to push her tears away. "So what do we do?"
He stroked her cheek with his thumb, like he often did. "You die."
She clenched her eyes closed. "Go out looking like a hero rather than a target, is that it?"
"We were in the park... We were attacked... You didn't make it, but you went down fighting..." He swallowed so tightly, she could hear it. "I was shot in the process... I couldn't save you..." She could hear his heartbeat now, racing and thumping loudly. He kissed her, hard and desperate. "I couldn't save you," he repeated.
She felt her tears slide down her cheeks then and his fingers swiping them away. "And they'll all remember the intrepid reporter who gave her all to save the city..." He stared at her, eyes darker than usual, the sadness creeping back in. "I'll always remember her." His jaw twitched, in the way it often did when he was restraining himself.
"And I just disappear, don't I?" She let her eyes fall.
"You could never stand captivity; stuck here, hidden away..." His strong arms wrapped around her and she buried her face against his chest.
"How can you just... say goodbye?" she asked, shaking her head, gasping for air as her chest clenched. Everything inside of her hurt in that moment.
"I suppose I love you enough to let you go," he said lowly, the voice of Batman and Bruce Wayne all wrapped in one.
"You suppose?" she said cheekily, letting out a faint laugh that held no amusement.
"You always knew something like this could happen," he reminded, his hands holding tight to her, so large and warm against her back.
She nodded. "I guess I hoped it'd be awhile longer," she murmured. She wanted to ask him to come with her. If one of them could fake a death, two wouldn't be much harder. He had the connections and resources. The question was right there on the end of her tongue, but she already knew his answer. He belonged in Gotham and while she was sure much of her did, if only because so much of her felt like it belonged with him, she knew he was right. She had to leave. She hated running, she abhorred hiding, but in the end she had to choose between dying and living. She wanted to live, but she wasn't sure she wanted to go about it without him. Selfishly, she wanted to wave goodbye to Gotham, tell them she was sorry, but she was taking their last hope with her too. But maybe they needed him more than she did... Though she felt it was unlikely.
Chloe Sullivan was a hero in her own right, however. And she chose the essence of good over her own heart. She undressed him one last time and rode him until sun up. She kissed every inch of him, memorized every angle, every scar and stitch and muscle in his entire body. She flew to the highest of ecstasies and screamed his name until she was hoarse. And when he'd wake the next morning, Chloe Sullivan was gone, the black diamond engagement ring sitting on his bedside table. She'd see the news later, read the papers, and know...
"It's a truly sad day in Gotham as it has come to light that fiancée to billionaire Bruce Wayne, investigative reporter for Gotham Gazette Chloe Sullivan was brutally murdered this morning. Well known for her gritty exposes on the crime scene in Gotham, Miss Sullivan had been a witness in at least twenty-three separate lawsuits against various crime families. It was well known by the police force that she was being targeted by said groups, but it seemed there was not enough interest to keep her safe. During a stroll in the park, the newly engaged couple was attacked by unknown assailants. According to Mr. Wayne, Miss Sullivan put up a strong fight but in the end, she wasn't able to survive the gun shot wound she suffered. This would be the seventh time she was admitted to hospital from such a wound and it seemed luck was not on her side. Bruce Wayne is currently in hospital, having barely survived his own brutal attack. I'm Sara Franklin for Gotham News and all of us here would like to take a moment of silence for our fallen hero... Our condolences are with Mr. Wayne tonight..."
Pictures flashed over the screen... When she first arrived, beaming for the camera as she held up her champagne flute; her and Bruce at some gala, his arm around her waist and her head bowed as he whispered against her ear; her posing next to Chief Gordon outside of City Hall after another won case and many, many more. She turned off the TV and rolled onto her side, burrowing into the scratchy blanket of the motel she was staying in.
In the years to come, he would never marry and many would speculate that he had never really gotten over her. He dated periodically, but it was never like how it used to be. He could no longer pretend to be the billionaire playboy he had been. It gave him an excuse to get out of the limelight some though and take up his activities as Batman more frequently. She kept up with the Gotham Gazette and she admired how much he cleaned up the streets. She said farewell to her dark knight that early morning and she stepped out into the bright light of a neighboring city. She climbed into her beat up car and took to the road; it seemed settling down just wasn't the life for her. So she put her heart away, locked it up in an impenetrable box and vowed that she was done... Chloe Sullivan would never love again. She was done with love and all of its heartbreak.
Bruce Wayne was the last hero she'd ever open herself up to... or so she thought.
[ Next: Part V - The One.]