Harleen Part 3/19
Author: BlueSuede
Title: Harleen
Rating: PG13/T
Genre: Friendship/Romance
Pairings: Chloe/Bruce
Summary: Chloe is on a recruiting mission, trying to pin down Gotham's infamous Dark Knight. In order to learn more about him, she begins interviewing those he's captured. What will she do when the Joker escapes and begins targeting her?
Warning: I understand that this story may not be entirely consistent with Nolan's Batman. Mostly this will be a result of my growing up with Batman the Animated Series.
banner by cheryljluv
First Chapter
Previous (Chapter 2)
Next (Chapter 4)
--2--
Chloe stepped outside of Arkham and heaved a sigh. Was it just her, or was there always a dark storm cloud hanging over that building? And, naturally, she'd accidentally left her umbrella in the taxi that morning.
"Great," she muttered miserably, standing under the shelter of the doorway. She wrapped her raincoat more snuggly around her, turning up the collar to protect herself as best as she could. With a deep breath she made a run for it.
She had to get down the long, winding drive up to Arkham on her own, puddles of rain and mud splashing up around her ankles. She hated the walk, especially in the rain, but it was no use. There wasn't a taxi driver in the city who was willing to pick her up at the door of Arkham. Most of them wouldn't go within two blocks of the place.
Tomorrow I'm investing in a pair of rainboots, she thought, looking down at her now thoroughly ruined heels. This is ridiculous.
There is little that is more unpleasant in this world than wet shoes and stockings, but standing in the rain trying to hail a taxi in Gotham while wearing wet shoes and stockings definitely falls into that category. Therefore Chloe, perfectly understandably, was not in the most pleasant of moods when someone bumped into her on the street, knocking her off balance and sending her staggering to the left, causing, regrettably, her foot to step into the six inch river of water coursing through the gutter. Nor could anyone really blame her for the slightly colorful language that escaped her lips in response.
"I'm so sorry. Are you all right?" asked a male voice. Internally, Chloe gave whoever it was credit for the fact that he even paused long enough to notice he'd bumped her. It was slightly unusual for a Gotham local.
...Okay. It was flat out unheard of.
But thanks to the sensations wrought by her thoroughly soaked foot, Chloe was in no humor to be forgiving. She spared the well-meaning man only a grimace and the curt, monosyllabic response, "Fine," before she started heading down the street again.
The man glanced at Chloe, then up at Arkham Asylum, then back to Chloe. He shook his head and turned around.
"Wait up!" he called after her.
Chloe, immensely surprised, turned to look at him, pausing in wait.
"I'm sorry," he said, catching up. "I just...do you need a ride anywhere? It's a terrible day to be walking home."
"Well, I was planning on taking a...umm...a...taxi," Chloe breathed, having suddenly caught the man's eyes. They were rather distracting.
He raised an eyebrow. "Out here? Nonsense. You won't be able to find one for another two-and-a-half blocks. Let me give you a ride."
Chloe bit her lip. What was it all those after-school specials were always saying? Something about never taking a ride from strangers. Finally, she shook her head. He might be handsome, but so was Ted Bundy.
"I'm sorry, but I'll be just fine on my own," she said, trying not to sound ungrateful. "Thank you, though."
"Let me at least lend you my umbrella until you get a cab," he persisted, raising his umbrella slightly in indication.
"I...that's really..." she stammered, trying to remember what the question was, "that would be...very nice," she gave in, finally, releasing a breath of relief. Those eyes were almost hypnotizing.
This is pathetic. I can stare into the eyes of serial killers all day long and not flinch, but one handsome face is my complete undoing.
"Wonderful," he said, holding the umbrella over her head. "Where are you heading?"
"Well, there's usually a guy who's willing to meet me on 84th." She glanced at her watch. "He should be there by now."
He looked at her in surprise. "Usually," he repeated. "How often do you come out this way?"
She sighed. "Every day for a week now."
He stared openly. "Excuse me if it's too bold to ask, but, well, why?"
Chloe chuckled. "I'm doing research at Arkham."
"What kind of research?"
She rattled off her readily prepared lie about writing a book. She wasn't sure, but she could almost hear in his response that he didn't really believe her.
"A book, huh? Interesting. I'm sure you're the first. Most people won't go in there to save their own lives."
Chloe shrugged. "It's not so bad."
"Not so bad?" he repeated dubiously.
"I don't know. I'm not going to lie and say it isn't a little eerie, but even the most psychotic criminals have a background. They weren't born that way, so even with the worst of them, there's still a hint of humanity in there somewhere."
"Somewhere deep down," he added dryly.
"Even so."
"And they...talk to you?"
She nodded. "Imagine if you never got any visitors, and you couldn't expect any visitors for the rest of your life. Wouldn't you talk to the person who's practically asking for your life story?"
He didn't respond, but looked thoughtful.
Suddenly Chloe frowned. "What were you doing over there?"
"Nothing particular."
Her eyes narrowed. "Nothing particular? Your car was parked out at the end of the drive, and there's nowhere else to go but Arkham. People don't just take strolls by Gotham."
He sighed, a hint of melodrama behind the sound and laughter in his eyes. "Business. Nothing very interesting, just a little business."
"And what is it you do?"
He shrugged. "A lot of things."
"Are you always this vague?"
He chuckled. "Maybe I'm just hoping I've piqued your curiosity enough that you'll want to see me again," he said, as they reached a street corner where a cab was parked and waiting for Chloe.
Chloe raised an eyebrow and her lips thinned, suppressing a smile. "Are you asking me out? If so, you're doing that very vaguely, too."
He gave a smile that landed somewhere between a grin and smirk, the effect of which was quite charming. "Would you like to get dinner tomorrow night, Miss...?"
Chloe sighed. "Chloe Sullivan." She offered her hand. "And dinner would be nice."
He shook it pleasantly. "Bruce Wayne."
Barely perceptible surprise flashed across Chloe's face. The Bruce Wayne? She'd heard Oliver talk about him before.
Didn't see that coming. Who made the law that looks and money go together, anyway? she thought to herself, once again appreciating his handsomely carved chin and dark, brooding eyes.
She plucked a pen from her purse and a grocery receipt from earlier that morning, jotted down her phone number on it and handed it to him.
He looked at it for a moment and then raised an eyebrow. "That's an awful lot of coffee."
She rolled her eyes and opened the door of the cab, climbing in. "Goodbye, Mr. Wayne."
He grinned. "Goodbye, Miss Sullivan." He shut the door and then walked around to tap on the driver's window, which was promptly rolled down. Bruce discreetly handed the driver a wad of cash. "Take Miss Sullivan wherever she'd like to go, Arnold. It's on me."
"Yessir, Mr. Wayne. Wherever she wants, Mr. Wayne," said the Arnold, a slight man with a receding hairline and an accent that implied Brooklyn origins.
Chloe started to lean forward to tell her driver that was entirely unnecessary and that he should return the money, but before she could, Bruce was walking away and Arnold was rolling the window up.
"Where to, Miss Chloe?" Arnold asked as he pulled away from the curb, wiper blades going furiously.
Chloe sighed, slumping in her seat defeatedly. "Same as usual, Arnold. Straight to the hotel."
"Friday night, Miss Chloe. Ain'tchoo got any plans?"
"Nothing that involves leaving the comfort of a hot bubble bath, Arnold."
Arnold clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Girls like you should have at least ten men to choose from on a Friday night," he said.
Chloe sighed. Another day she might have had a quirky comeback, but this time, she just didn't have the gumption. She was too exhausted. Arnold seemed to sense this because otherwise he left her in peace for the rest of the ride, a gesture Chloe greatly appreciated. All she wanted was to get home and get out of her wet clothes.
Her mind flashed back to Bruce Wayne. What was she thinking agreeing to a date? She was in Gotham on business. Not to run around looking for playmates.
Not to mention the fact that her business was going poorly. She wasn't really sure how helpful interviewing the inmates of Arkham Asylum was going to be after all. Yes, she was learning things, but were they things that could somehow lead her to Batman? Or was she just chasing useless fluff?
Maybe a weekend off is exactly what I need. Clear my head. Sort through my information. Find out whether I'm getting what I need or not.
Even to herself, though, she didn't admit that she might be able to profile Batman, but even if she figured out who he was, she had no means of contacting him.
First Chapter
Previous (Chapter 2)
Next (Chapter 4)