Nightminds ~ Chapter 13
Title: Nightminds
Chapter: 13 of ?
Author: spygirl690
Disclaimer: Wow I wish they were mine, but they aren't. So don't sue me.
Rating: R to NC17
Paring: Batman/Joker
Warning: drug use, language, sex, graphic violence in later chapters
Summary: This story examines the months Bruce spent at Princeton before returning to start his journey in Batman Begins. The title was inspired by the Missy Higgins song Nightminds
.
Beta: A.S. you are the bomb baby!
Find all previous chapters of Nightminds here
Chapter 13
Bruce sat at the cafe in his apartment building, attempting to will the words of the textbook in front of him into his mind. Dark circles hung under his normally bright eyes. It was almost one week since the police took Jack in for questioning. Bruce hadn't sat still like Jack had told him to. He'd been trying everything to help him get out. He’d called home to speak with someone at his father's company, oozing out all of his inherent Wayne charm to make it sound like he was asking a question for his studies.
“Honestly, Mr. Wayne, I doubt our firm would get involved in such a case. Even if there was substantial proof the cops were involved, I think the defendant would be better off contacting a non-profit firm...”
Bruce grit his teeth, willing the words of the lawyer out of his head. The conversation reminded him of something crucial he had forgotten - proof. He had no proof that Belzer set Jack up or even proof that Jack didn't do it. Since then Bruce had been trying to follow Belzer and making a pitiful mess of it. He wasn't exactly James Bond. Bruce was sure the little snot had caught on and now made more cautious movements in and out of the apartment building. Now, on Thursday, Bruce felt like he had ran out of all options; he was still trailing Belzer when he could, but it was wearing him ragged.
But the exhaustion was good. It kept Bruce's mind from wandering to explore the deeper recesses of his reasons behind why he was doing this. Emotions were a liability he could not afford, not now. He had to focus.
The scene in the stairway played again in front of his eyes. The haunting look in Jack's eyes as he approached him, the bite of mint lingering just behind his lips...their lips pressing against one another. Bruce wanting to reach out...
The disheveled millionaire jostled his body slightly to get the image out of his head, displacing the coffee cup near him and sending it shattering to the floor. The 20-something barista behind the counter scurried out to pick up the mess. Bruce knelt down to help, looking sheepishly at the red haired boy in front of him. “Sorry.”
The boy picked up the pieces and placed them in a green dustpan. He looked at Bruce. “Don't worry about it man, studying can really take the life right out of ya.”
The clerk's stooped a little closer to Bruce, his green nametag with the name “Ronnie” on it swinging a foot away from Bruce's nose.
“If you needed a little pick me up, I've got just the stuff you need. My dealer just got a great stash from upstate,” Ronnie turned back to the task at hand, leaving the words to sink into Bruce's brain.
“What did you just say?”
Ronnie looked up at him, apprehension in his eyes. “My dealer says it's good stuff. He knows what he's talking about.”
Bruce stood, pushing his study materials into his messenger bag with one sweep of his arm. He reached into his pocket, dug out a twenty and handed it to Ronnie, who accepted it with a bemused look on his face.
“Okay, so does this mean you...”
Bruce didn't hear the rest of Ronnie's sentence because he was walking across the lobby and through the doors, his mind dancing through several trains of thought at once. He had been going about this all wrong.
Bruce jogged to across the grass towards the street.
He couldn't clear Jack's name on his own. He may have power, but it was of the wrong kind. His father had surrounded his company with good people, the kind of people who wouldn't do what Bruce needed to be done.
Reaching the sidewalk Bruce stuck his hand out to hail a passing cab. It squealed to a halt a few feet from him. Bruce got in, trying to shrug the bitter cold off of his shoulders.
“Where to, cutie?” The large woman in the driver’s seat blew a ring of smoke on the Plexiglas window separating them.
To clear Jack's name he would have to get down to his friend's level. He needed to find someone with power in Jack’s world.
“Knuckles,” Bruce said, slamming a fifty dollar bill against the plastic, “and step on it.”
The woman didn't bother to respond before squealing away from the curb.
The light in the office of Knuckles seemed to be linked to the music in the bar since with every base beat they would flicker. Based on the peeling paint that covered the walls and the second hand furniture surrounding the desk, Bruce would bet it was just the age of the building.
Bruce looked across the desk at Cesar, who was leaning back in his chair, contemplating the story Bruce had just told him, surrounding his best dealer's recent incident with the police.
It had been a few minutes and Bruce was beginning to wonder if he had made the right decision. His mind began spinning through other options.
“Bruce.”
Cesar's deep voice brought him out of his thoughts. The older man sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on the desk in front of him.
“Listen, you are a very nice kid. I can understand how you want to help your friend, but you have to understand that this is a business. I don't see how anything you are proposing to me would benefit me.”
“You'd have your best dealer back on the street.”
“I could have three kids ready to replace him in less than a week. They would take a smaller cut than Jack too.”
Bruce set his jaw and looked Cesar in the eye. He knew it would come to this.
“It was not my intention to ask you to help me without properly compensating you for your efforts,” Bruce smiled inwardly, that was definitely something Jack would say.
A sly smile crawled across Cesar’s lips. “Oh, I don't think you could afford my help. We do have people in the police, but their favors come at a high price. Getting him bailed out... at least a hundred thousand...”
“That's not what I want.”
Cesar's eyebrow perked up. “Oh?”
“His record, everything, I want it gone. From his first offense to this latest one. I want it to be like he never existed,” Bruce's hands hung loosely at his sides event though his heart was hammering against his chest. It was a tall order to ask, perhaps too tall to ask someone of Cesar's standing in the pyramid of crime.
“If you can get me the hundred thousand then we will talk. I doubt a kid like you could get that much.”
Bruce was frustrated; this was a game to see how much he was worth. It all depended on how quick he could get the money.
“I don't want to play games. I just want to help Jack. Just tell me how much.”
Cesar's calm face eroded into a scowl. “Listen, Chico, these people who I have to call to do what you're asking, they need reassurance I'm good for the money I'm promising. This conversation is over until you bring me the money.”
Cesar got up and walked Bruce to the door. With clenched fists Bruce walked back out to the street, hailing another cab to take him to the nearest bank.
“This is much more than a ruined Lamborghini, Master Bruce.”
The Wayne's loyal butler's voice sounded worried. Bruce was at the bank for the second time that day, now asking for double what he'd withdrawn last time. Although Bruce was an adult, his parents still left Alfred as an overseer to his funds far into adulthood. Most times Alfred would turn the other cheek, but Bruce knew these large withdraws would get his attention. Alfred had stopped the transaction with a note insisting Bruce call him before he would release the money.
“Alfred,” Bruce sighed looking around the Bank manager’s office. He instructed the man to leave as soon as he had Alfred on the phone.
“I have a friend who is in trouble. Before you protest or tell me some story with a moral just listen, I've tried everything, this is the only way I know how to help. His whole life he has had no one to stick up for him. Just let me do this. Please.”
Silence on the other side of the phone made Bruce recite a silent prayer in his head.
“You know, your father wouldn't approve of you hanging around with people who need to be bailed out of this much trouble.”
It wasn't a no, Bruce dared to hope.
A sigh cleared the phone. “Alright, put me in contact with the manager and I'll release the funds. Just be careful.”
Cesar counted through the last stack of bills and looked across the table at Bruce.
“My friend, we have a deal.”
Bruce stood, eager to get out of there. “How do I know you will make good on your end?”
A hearty laugh filled Bruce's ears. “Who else do you have to turn to?”
Bruce left the room wondering if he had just purchased Jack's freedom or his own ticket to hell.
Bruce lay awake looking at the shadows moving across the ceiling of his apartment. He couldn't sleep. Sometime yesterday exhaustion had kicked him, giving him a blissful few hours before his first class. But tonight all he could think about was Jack. He'd never even seen a jail. The closest he ever got was when they were traveling outside of Gotham and he could see the prison on the outskirts of town. He wondered if Jack was there or just in a holding cell in police headquarters.
There it was again, that dull aching in his chest. It always came with thoughts of Jack and his current situation. Bruce wondered if it was guilt, but how could he have known what was going to happen? If he had he would have done anything to stop it. He would do anything to have things go back to the way they were. To have Jack there right away.
The ringing of the phone echoed through the darkness a few times before Bruce realized the noise wasn't in his mind.
The receiver felt oddly heavy in Bruce's hand. “Hello?”
“It's done. You'll see your boy again tomorrow.”
There was nothing else, just a click and then the shallow hum of the dial tone. Bruce realized he didn't recognize the voice on the other end.
Bruce felt like his body was a time bomb, the lit fuses crawling fire up through his extremities towards his core. For once in his life he had done something right. He’d set a good person, an innocent person free.
With the realization he would see Jack tomorrow, endorphins coursed through his system and Bruce effortlessly slipped into sleep.
Chapter: 13 of ?
Author: spygirl690
Disclaimer: Wow I wish they were mine, but they aren't. So don't sue me.
Rating: R to NC17
Paring: Batman/Joker
Warning: drug use, language, sex, graphic violence in later chapters
Summary: This story examines the months Bruce spent at Princeton before returning to start his journey in Batman Begins. The title was inspired by the Missy Higgins song Nightminds
.
Beta: A.S. you are the bomb baby!
Find all previous chapters of Nightminds here
Chapter 13
Bruce sat at the cafe in his apartment building, attempting to will the words of the textbook in front of him into his mind. Dark circles hung under his normally bright eyes. It was almost one week since the police took Jack in for questioning. Bruce hadn't sat still like Jack had told him to. He'd been trying everything to help him get out. He’d called home to speak with someone at his father's company, oozing out all of his inherent Wayne charm to make it sound like he was asking a question for his studies.
“Honestly, Mr. Wayne, I doubt our firm would get involved in such a case. Even if there was substantial proof the cops were involved, I think the defendant would be better off contacting a non-profit firm...”
Bruce grit his teeth, willing the words of the lawyer out of his head. The conversation reminded him of something crucial he had forgotten - proof. He had no proof that Belzer set Jack up or even proof that Jack didn't do it. Since then Bruce had been trying to follow Belzer and making a pitiful mess of it. He wasn't exactly James Bond. Bruce was sure the little snot had caught on and now made more cautious movements in and out of the apartment building. Now, on Thursday, Bruce felt like he had ran out of all options; he was still trailing Belzer when he could, but it was wearing him ragged.
But the exhaustion was good. It kept Bruce's mind from wandering to explore the deeper recesses of his reasons behind why he was doing this. Emotions were a liability he could not afford, not now. He had to focus.
The scene in the stairway played again in front of his eyes. The haunting look in Jack's eyes as he approached him, the bite of mint lingering just behind his lips...their lips pressing against one another. Bruce wanting to reach out...
The disheveled millionaire jostled his body slightly to get the image out of his head, displacing the coffee cup near him and sending it shattering to the floor. The 20-something barista behind the counter scurried out to pick up the mess. Bruce knelt down to help, looking sheepishly at the red haired boy in front of him. “Sorry.”
The boy picked up the pieces and placed them in a green dustpan. He looked at Bruce. “Don't worry about it man, studying can really take the life right out of ya.”
The clerk's stooped a little closer to Bruce, his green nametag with the name “Ronnie” on it swinging a foot away from Bruce's nose.
“If you needed a little pick me up, I've got just the stuff you need. My dealer just got a great stash from upstate,” Ronnie turned back to the task at hand, leaving the words to sink into Bruce's brain.
“What did you just say?”
Ronnie looked up at him, apprehension in his eyes. “My dealer says it's good stuff. He knows what he's talking about.”
Bruce stood, pushing his study materials into his messenger bag with one sweep of his arm. He reached into his pocket, dug out a twenty and handed it to Ronnie, who accepted it with a bemused look on his face.
“Okay, so does this mean you...”
Bruce didn't hear the rest of Ronnie's sentence because he was walking across the lobby and through the doors, his mind dancing through several trains of thought at once. He had been going about this all wrong.
Bruce jogged to across the grass towards the street.
He couldn't clear Jack's name on his own. He may have power, but it was of the wrong kind. His father had surrounded his company with good people, the kind of people who wouldn't do what Bruce needed to be done.
Reaching the sidewalk Bruce stuck his hand out to hail a passing cab. It squealed to a halt a few feet from him. Bruce got in, trying to shrug the bitter cold off of his shoulders.
“Where to, cutie?” The large woman in the driver’s seat blew a ring of smoke on the Plexiglas window separating them.
To clear Jack's name he would have to get down to his friend's level. He needed to find someone with power in Jack’s world.
“Knuckles,” Bruce said, slamming a fifty dollar bill against the plastic, “and step on it.”
The woman didn't bother to respond before squealing away from the curb.
The light in the office of Knuckles seemed to be linked to the music in the bar since with every base beat they would flicker. Based on the peeling paint that covered the walls and the second hand furniture surrounding the desk, Bruce would bet it was just the age of the building.
Bruce looked across the desk at Cesar, who was leaning back in his chair, contemplating the story Bruce had just told him, surrounding his best dealer's recent incident with the police.
It had been a few minutes and Bruce was beginning to wonder if he had made the right decision. His mind began spinning through other options.
“Bruce.”
Cesar's deep voice brought him out of his thoughts. The older man sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on the desk in front of him.
“Listen, you are a very nice kid. I can understand how you want to help your friend, but you have to understand that this is a business. I don't see how anything you are proposing to me would benefit me.”
“You'd have your best dealer back on the street.”
“I could have three kids ready to replace him in less than a week. They would take a smaller cut than Jack too.”
Bruce set his jaw and looked Cesar in the eye. He knew it would come to this.
“It was not my intention to ask you to help me without properly compensating you for your efforts,” Bruce smiled inwardly, that was definitely something Jack would say.
A sly smile crawled across Cesar’s lips. “Oh, I don't think you could afford my help. We do have people in the police, but their favors come at a high price. Getting him bailed out... at least a hundred thousand...”
“That's not what I want.”
Cesar's eyebrow perked up. “Oh?”
“His record, everything, I want it gone. From his first offense to this latest one. I want it to be like he never existed,” Bruce's hands hung loosely at his sides event though his heart was hammering against his chest. It was a tall order to ask, perhaps too tall to ask someone of Cesar's standing in the pyramid of crime.
“If you can get me the hundred thousand then we will talk. I doubt a kid like you could get that much.”
Bruce was frustrated; this was a game to see how much he was worth. It all depended on how quick he could get the money.
“I don't want to play games. I just want to help Jack. Just tell me how much.”
Cesar's calm face eroded into a scowl. “Listen, Chico, these people who I have to call to do what you're asking, they need reassurance I'm good for the money I'm promising. This conversation is over until you bring me the money.”
Cesar got up and walked Bruce to the door. With clenched fists Bruce walked back out to the street, hailing another cab to take him to the nearest bank.
“This is much more than a ruined Lamborghini, Master Bruce.”
The Wayne's loyal butler's voice sounded worried. Bruce was at the bank for the second time that day, now asking for double what he'd withdrawn last time. Although Bruce was an adult, his parents still left Alfred as an overseer to his funds far into adulthood. Most times Alfred would turn the other cheek, but Bruce knew these large withdraws would get his attention. Alfred had stopped the transaction with a note insisting Bruce call him before he would release the money.
“Alfred,” Bruce sighed looking around the Bank manager’s office. He instructed the man to leave as soon as he had Alfred on the phone.
“I have a friend who is in trouble. Before you protest or tell me some story with a moral just listen, I've tried everything, this is the only way I know how to help. His whole life he has had no one to stick up for him. Just let me do this. Please.”
Silence on the other side of the phone made Bruce recite a silent prayer in his head.
“You know, your father wouldn't approve of you hanging around with people who need to be bailed out of this much trouble.”
It wasn't a no, Bruce dared to hope.
A sigh cleared the phone. “Alright, put me in contact with the manager and I'll release the funds. Just be careful.”
Cesar counted through the last stack of bills and looked across the table at Bruce.
“My friend, we have a deal.”
Bruce stood, eager to get out of there. “How do I know you will make good on your end?”
A hearty laugh filled Bruce's ears. “Who else do you have to turn to?”
Bruce left the room wondering if he had just purchased Jack's freedom or his own ticket to hell.
Bruce lay awake looking at the shadows moving across the ceiling of his apartment. He couldn't sleep. Sometime yesterday exhaustion had kicked him, giving him a blissful few hours before his first class. But tonight all he could think about was Jack. He'd never even seen a jail. The closest he ever got was when they were traveling outside of Gotham and he could see the prison on the outskirts of town. He wondered if Jack was there or just in a holding cell in police headquarters.
There it was again, that dull aching in his chest. It always came with thoughts of Jack and his current situation. Bruce wondered if it was guilt, but how could he have known what was going to happen? If he had he would have done anything to stop it. He would do anything to have things go back to the way they were. To have Jack there right away.
The ringing of the phone echoed through the darkness a few times before Bruce realized the noise wasn't in his mind.
The receiver felt oddly heavy in Bruce's hand. “Hello?”
“It's done. You'll see your boy again tomorrow.”
There was nothing else, just a click and then the shallow hum of the dial tone. Bruce realized he didn't recognize the voice on the other end.
Bruce felt like his body was a time bomb, the lit fuses crawling fire up through his extremities towards his core. For once in his life he had done something right. He’d set a good person, an innocent person free.
With the realization he would see Jack tomorrow, endorphins coursed through his system and Bruce effortlessly slipped into sleep.