Phobia.

It was even earlier than the day before, but this one was different.
My head didn’t hurt, but the same arm lay over my waist.

This time the butterflies and contentness overcame and I rolled onto my back, stretching slightly and observing him, the gentle shadows cast from the half open window landing lightly on his face, making his nose sharper, his jaw harsher.

I couldn’t fight the smile.
He wanted me.
All of me, fucked up little old me.

I was ecstatic as much as I was terrified, shutting the latter away.
I wanted to enjoy this, every minute with him, every touch.

Before, as the dark part of my conscious hissed, it all went to shit.

“Quit staring at me,” He murmured, dragging his hand back and putting it over his face.

“I wasn’t” I defended with a giggle, continuing to stretch, the sheet sliding down my body. He moved suddenly, landing on top of me and making me squeal.

“I’ve never seen someone completely 180 so quickly,” He teased, pressing his lips on my throat, my exposed upper half practically quivering under his touch.

“I’m working on it,” I breathed, inhaling as he moved lower down, kissing down over my sternum, my body reacting to his touch.

“I need to check out the addresses we got.” He murmured, moving back up quickly, grinning at my frown, “I’ll get the number from your phone so I have it and keep you informed.”

“It’s six am!” He rolled off of me, pulling my head into his chest, his head resting on top of mine. “And I thought I was coming.” I felt his head shake.

“Nah, I don’t know what I’m expecting so...”

“Blake.” He cut me off again, gently resting his hand over my mouth.

“I don’t know what I’m going to find, and I’ll need you here with the laptop to find more addresses or whatever okay?” I frowned, trying to fight the rejection that was bubbling inside of me.

“Fine, be careful.” I sighed, pulling away from him and laying back down, our bodies no longer touching. He stood, my eye catching on his skin, only pulling away when he turned again.

“Don’t be pissed.”

“I’m not.” He shot me a look and I pouted, moving over to bedside table and slipping my old glasses on my face, allowing my tired eyes to see sharply. “I just...I feel like I’m not doing anything.”

“You’ve done more than anyone I could think of, you help with Crane, you help Gordon overall, you’ve helped me countless times, and I need your help today, I need those addresses and any sign you can get of Wayne...” He trailed off, frowning.

I knew a small part of him feared he was dead.

“What exactly did Selina say?”

“Just that she didn’t know...didn’t know if he was alive or not...but, before you even try, there is no way you’re going to be able to get an interview or visit, its strictly nothing for three months when prisoners enter Black Gate, remember?”

“Jonathon’s been in there a long time.” I spoke stiffly, standing, pulling his shirt from the evening before over my body.

“You’re a bit too tall to pull that off,” He said, his tone changing, more jovial as he walked over, pulling the fabric which stopped not far below my hips, “You can still see everything.”
I smirked at him, pushing his hand away and off of my thigh.

“I thought you had to rush out.” He moved, a bit of tension growing as he moved suddenly, muscles contracting as he pushed me hard against the wall, close to the small window.

“Does that mean you want me to go?” I whined, his hand drifting up my leg again.

“Shut up and get ready.” I pushed against his firm stomach, him grinning, landing an almost childish kiss on my nose as he walked awkwardly to the bathroom, the sound of the shower loud almost instantly as I sighed, a stabbing almost to the point of pain between my legs, my fingers claws that wanted to run down his toned back.

There was a nip in my back of my mind, and I opened the window quickly, letting the cold air flush in, reciting what was to be my new mantra, my new defense against the attacks.

“He wants me, He wants me.”
_________________________________

My phone was ringing all morning, Gordon and Blake, one asking about the other.

“He’s out now, he’s done a few checks, why don’t you ring him?” I asked the older man after the fourth call, as per the tv on low in the background. “His phone is busy at the moment,”

I shrugged to myself, “He must be talking to one of the businesses, I’m not sure Gordon.”

“He spotted anything?”

I huffed slightly, “I don’t know, I don’t know construction, just...ring him in a minute... I’m about to watch the game,” I teased, “How are you anyway?”

“Surviving, I’m not to bad, Doctors say another week or so in here, then at least two months off of work, though...with everything.... a nice break isn’t seeming likely.”

“Is there a way you can get me in to see Selina Kyle?”

“Cat woman?” I could sense his frown, “I doubt it, she hasn’t been in there that long and it will look suspicious, we don’t know how deep this all goes.” My phone beeped.

“I think Blake’s ringing me, I’ll tell him to call you in a sec okay?” I didn’t give him much time to answer, changing over to the other line.

“Hey, I spoke to the Newton cement plant and the Old town one...I’ll text you the addresses.”

“Cool, thanks,”

“And Gordon wants to talk to you...”

It was business, there wasn’t the hint of a couple as there had been that morning. I knew he was stressed, trying to make something out of a mismatched map full of dots.

And he was right, I did just want to help him.

“Okay, thanks, I’ll see you later...”

“Any luck?”

“I haven’t got a fucking clue...” I pouted.

“Well... I’ll keep you updated on the score.”

“Ah shit,” He was suddenly alive, the monotone dropped, “I completely forgot, damn it. You better keep me up to date with what’s happening.” I snorted.

“I can tell you the score, I don’t understand the rules or plays or anything though.” I felt his smile.

“I’m disappointed...I’m gunna head off anyway, text me those addresses yeah?”

“Sure, bye, good luck!”

“Bye.”

I sat back, fighting a yawn as I slowly text him the addresses, flopping back against the back of the sofa.

I was hungry as well, my stomach growling, I’d have to remind Blake to get some more food on the way back.

I felt that familiar flicker of guilt that I was practically sponging off of him, living off his still small pay check. But he was content I stay safe, and yet...there were two new wigs in bags across the room.

And, if I went to the right bank, I could get that money out, Jonathon’s that they gave to me. I had ID...true ID in my purse, Gordon had a couple of the other documents.
And I knew where he lived.

But as Gordon said, we didn’t know how far this went, we didn’t know who Bane had brought out, who was working for him.

If I was extra careful, taking a change of coat, both wigs... If I kept my phone on me.
I was going to do it.

The part of me that filled with adrenaline when I was out, trying to discover things flooded.
The risk was worth it.

I couldn’t just sit here anymore.
____________________________

“Miss Crane,” She was young the cashier, new, “And how much is it you want to take out? The account has been inactive the last seven years.”

“How much is it there?” I spoke lowly, trying not to draw attention to myself, one wig worn on the way to Gordon’s, on the bus, shoved with the other whilst I came in, sunglasses that must have belonged to Gordon’s wife on my face.

“A lot,” She admitted awkwardly, “Your brother had his affairs in...well...splendid order, a lot of investments in the right places.”

I pursed my lips, wishing she would keep her voice down, the room where we sat opposite each other on the small table was large, but large enough to echo. I didn’t need people to hear anything they shouldn’t.

“How much?” I asked again, making my voice even quieter, thankful she seemed to get my meaning and hers lowering.
“Nearly two million.” I felt my jaw drop, and she repeated herself, clearly trying not to laugh at my reaction.

“Two million?!” I hissed, I knew Jonathon was smart, took advantage of people, situations, but fucking hell.

“So,” her voice was smooth, “How much would you like to take out Keira? As this is all in your control.” She clarified, it took me a few seconds to reply, overwhelmed by this, by him.

I grasped for a number, “Erm...two...two thousand?” She nodded, a plastic smile perching itself on her face

“No problem, I’ll take your ID with me and I’ll be back in a minute.” I nodded.

“Thank you.”

I kept my head down, staring hard at the table, scratches from over the years imprinted until she returned, counting up the cash and placing it in an envelope, my ID on top and pushing it to me.
“Thank you Miss Crane, have a lovely day.”

“You too.” I offered, standing, securing my sun glasses and removing myself from the bank as quick as possible, steering instantly into an alleyway.

I had never had so much money on me at one time.
I felt odd, almost wanting to giggle at Jonathon finally coming in handy.

Instead I had to concentrate, ducking out of view and grabbing the cardigan in my bag, switching it with my own and pulling the dark brown wig over my hair, my glasses taking the sunglasses place.
I had to hope it was good enough for whoever may be looking.

Whoever had burnt my apartment down.

I bumped into someone on the street, apologising profusely as I continued, my ankle tingeing with each step as I fought to stay on crowded streets for as long as possible.

But I felt eyes on me.
And I as I climbed onto the number 48 bus, I saw them.

That was, before the explosion roared, distracting me. It was huge, a beast, roar after roar.

I quickly removed myself, every opening to the sewer bursting, the metal tops flying in the air close to people. A close by bar full of people who looked shock, along with others pushing in I entered watching open mouthed as I saw the sight in front of me.

The game was on, but...the pitch was gone, destroyed, a hole in the ground.
There was a man, the camera zoomed, he was tall, as wide as a tree, a mask over the lower part of his face.

“Gotham, take control of your city!” Bane commanded.

I felt all the blood drain from my face, urging for a better view of the few small TVs suspended in the corners.

There were a number of them, Bane, more henchmen behind him, dragging a man, dragging something else.

It was glowing, an orb on some kind of trolley. It didn’t look good.

“This is the instrument of your liberation...” He began the obviously kidnapped man being pulled over, kicking against the ground to him.

“That’s a fucking bomb!” Someone yelled loudly.

Being shushed by several others, the room quiet, too quiet. Everyone waiting breath bated.

“This looks worse than the Joker, than the gas.” A man close to me muttered, rubbing his hand over his face.

The man was shoved onto his knees, “Identify yourself to the world.” Banes voice was loud, a microphone connected to the speakers in his hand.

The camera zoomed closer to the poor mans’ face, he looked unshaven, un-kept, pained. Bane had his large hand wrapped around his head, “Dr. Leonid Pavel, nuclear physicist.”

That bomb, glowing sphere..it was a nuclear bomb.

I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, Banes slipping to Dr Pavel’s.

“Tell the world what this is.” I winced as the foreign man spoke the words I didn’t want to hear, that confirmed how mad Bane was, how brilliant in another sense.

How fucked Gotham was.

“A fully primed neutron bomb. With a blast radius of six miles.” The panic in the bar started again.

If Bane’s mouth was uncovered I think he would hold a deep grin.

“And who can disarm this device?”

“Only me.”

I closed my eye tightly for a second.

Bane thanked the doctor in his odd accent before his other hand landed on his neck, and within a second the man was dead, head twisted the wrong way, body slumping to the floor.

Now the screaming started.

Bane cut them off, a few of his henchmen firing bullets up into the air, up into the crowd as the ringleader spoke, make his plan clear.

“The bomb is armed, the bomb is mobile, the identity of the triggerman is a mystery. One of you holds the detonator - we come not as conquerors, but as liberators to return control of this city to the people. At the first sign of interference from the outside world or of people attempting to flee, this anonymous Gothamite, this unsung hero, will trigger the bomb. For now, martial law is in effect. Return to your homes, hold your families close, and wait. Tomorrow you claim what is rightfully yours.”

Liberators, if I wasn’t terrified I would have scoffed.
But it was clear, Gotham was alone, alone to run itself into chaos, disarray.

Martial law is in effect

My stomach twisted.

I needed to reach Blake, I needed to get back to the apartment.
I needed to...

I ran straight into the eyes.