Phobia.

A month passed slowly, each minute crawling.

Buildings were set on aflame, the rich torn from their homes.
But it had taken less than seven days for the city to erupt.

Fires, scum stalking the streets.
Sometime we could hear screams, we were still downtown, in the third apartment so far, still hidden.

The area around the park was a haven of crime, houses lived in by all, belongings destroyed.
I under stood the frustration, but it was mob mentality, there was no thought.
I glared out of the window, Gordon snoring softly, all but healed, trying to rally people, work out who would try and defend Gotham.

So far he had managed a few, well... we had on his instructions, old officers, retired, ones who hadn’t been sent on the ‘Training exercise’
He was also working a way of getting them out, Blake had trawled the streets, called down sewer grates until he had found his partner, using simple string to pass scrawled notes, to keep him informed.

Not that there was much to list, apart from destruction, people seemingly losing their morals.

But I had something of my own I wanted to do, I wanted to find Selina, Blake said they had apprehended her, that she was linked to Bruce in ways I wasn’t aware of.

I guess whatever she had wanted at the fundraiser just a few short weeks ago had either paid off brilliantly or backfired...although I suppose if it had backfired she would be dead.

But rewatching Bane’s speech obsessively as Gordon and I had for days after, I had spotted her, standing there at the window, face still, not reacting.

I knew she would be alive, with Jen somewhere, making the most of it...but I had no way to contact her.

“What you thinking about?” I shrugged, his hands landing lightly on my shoulders, fingers moving in a way that made my muscles loosen quickly, Gordon in the other room.

An odd luxury, an apartment with two separate bedrooms.

And in-between plotting, in-between my nightmares which had escalated thricehold since I was aware my brother was prowling the streets, we made the most of it.

Although my aching stiff shoulders were more down to how I had been hunched over, thinking.
During which I was muttering my usual ‘He wants you’ to draw the dark thoughts away.

“Not a lot...” I paused, “Selina, you said she knew something about Bruce.”

“She said she didn’t know if he was dead or not.”

“But you were speaking in a public place, so she couldn’t be clear, what if she knows something more?”

“I can’t say I haven’t been thinking the same thing, but...you got any way of contacting her?” I shook my head, “Well then...” he mused, “I’m not having you running around the streets looking for her.”
I let him have a smile, let his defense of me sink in.

He wants you, he wants you.

“When do you think we should move again?” He shrugged, “I think we’re okay here,” I continued, “I mean, we’re close enough but not in a nice enough area for people to...do what they’re doing.”

I meant dragging people from their home, like they had been the day we had headed towards the Children’s home, raping woman, destroying invaluable art, burning apartments.

Every person that should have been locked up was free, from murderers to rapists, to thieves. It wasn’t just named criminals, those who wanted the opportunity, with a limit in morals joined in.
I didn’t know the extent of what happened to people torn from their home.

But the screams gave me an idea.
They’d been marching somewhere.

“You get any word on that, any idea where they’re taking people too?”

“I know a couple of guys followed some,” Yes, the little group of men we had gathered, they were like we had expected, old cops, a few detectives, people who trusted Gordon, no matter what Bane had revealed.

Everything had already shut down, the monorail, trains, buses, taxis.
Schools, hospitals - there had been shootings, children.
That day I hadn't been able to seperate it from myself, had sobbed.

People who were law abiding and wanted to stay safe stayed mostly inside.

Unless they had, in this case, the unfortune of being rich.

“Right,” I stood his hand slipping down to meet mine as we went back to the table, strewn with maps of Gotham, places too dangerous marked with an X.
The route of a tumbler a dark blue line.

That’s what we had spent the last week doing, there were more than one, all trailed by a small lorry, metal coverings. The bomb had to be in one of them.

So Blake, Foley, myself and several others had spent the week determining the route, seeing if it differed day to day. A red streak of spray along one side a mark.

Within four days it was gone, only securing our belief the nuclear weapon was definitely in one of them, moved around constantly.

The next step was to work out all three routes, to try and determine which held the bomb.
To try and work out a way to get to it...not that we knew what to do.

Gordon was working on the apparent ‘trigger man’ although he doubted there was one, trying to see who could be linked to Bane, any people who seemed likely.

I was still under the belief there definitely wasn’t a person Bane would trust with that, it was a ploy, to waste our time like it had been doing.

We murmured for a while, a yawn from me causing his mouth to open widely. “Come on, bed.” I sighed but nodding, pouting until he pulled me up with a chuckle, hands on my hips as I led him into the smaller room, once a teenage girls, closing the door.
“What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“Let’s go wild, see if the electrics on, try and stay hidden...we may even stalk a tumbler or two.” I sniggered, rolling my eyes at his sarcasm. Watching as he pulled off his jumper, there was already a chill in the air, present every night.

And whilst the apartment was the nicest so far, it was the coldest and I slipped a jumper out of a draw over my clothes.

Wearing others clothes was something I was also used to now, many people left to family members...some apartments just seemed to be left, completely untouched. We had avoided them so far, they were creepy, had an air about them I didn’t like.
Luckily, in a very vain way, whoever had stayed in this room had good taste and was a similar size.

“Don’t know why you’re bothering to put that one,” He muttered, the light in the corner of the room flickering before going off. He stood, checking from the window, “The whole block is out at least, if it keeps up we’ll have to move.”

“Eventually it will be the whole city, and you know there’s a lot of places and boulevards in particular we need to avoid.” He frowned, pulling the blinds open to let a bit of moonlight in, although he was little more than a silhouette to me now.

“Can we not? Once we’re in bed I just want that, not worrying about everything.”

“Must be nice to be you,” I said, a hint of scorn I couldn’t avoid slipping into my words, “Being in bed just seems to make my worries worse.”

His hand was over my mouth without me even realising he had moved much, making me jump, squeak slightly. He slid it down to my breast, “It’s not nice when I wake up and you’re in that state. I hate it.” His voice was earnest, contrasting with the route his hand was taking, slipping down my stomach.

It was fair to say out relationship had taken a leap in all ways.

Intimacy was there, something I had always struggled with, edged away from touches, gentle grazes, it was more than lust, and that thrilled me as much as it terrified me.

I told him things about Jonathon I had never said outloud, things that had happened, memories, he demanded an explanation of every nightmare and I gave it to him, letting him comfort me.

But if we had a few months to live, perhaps left if they found Gordon and us.
I wanted to make the most of it.

I suppose that was defeatist, I shouldn’t think that way, should assume, make it so the bomb would never go off...but I couldn’t see a way that would happen, even if we did somehow manage to locate it, stop the truck, kill the men and get it... we had no knowledge of how it worked.

Bane had made it clear that no-one apart from the dead Doctor Pavel did.

“You’re thinking.” He teased, lips under my ear, landing gently several times on my neck in a way that made me inhale sharply, before melting into his every touch. “You have to be quiet, we don’t want to wake Gordon.”

“Fuck you.” I moaned lightly as his hand found a sensitive spot, he liked it, teasing me.

He’d said a while ago that during sex, foreplay and afterward was the only time I ever let go.

I don’t know what he assumed I was letting go off, the worries outside? That was true.
What was more incredible was that in those moments there were no voices in my head, just him, the need and want of his skin, lips, warmth.

I think I was becoming addicted to John Blake.

Suddenly I was sat upright, the jumper causing us to fumble, hard to get over my arms, releasing my now naked body, his dexterous hand had already maneuvered my panties down around my knees, his mouth going to my breasts the minute the jumper was high enough, my hand finding it’s way into his hair as his mouth found my nipple, his free hand back down between my legs.

I clung to him, my noises spurring him on, teeth digging into my lower lip to keep my moans as whimpers, my own hands desperate to remove his t-shirt, his boxers.

Before long I felt like I was ‘letting go’ more than that...a high, that only seemed to come when his hips clashed against mine, or his hands were on my sides, lips on my lower neck.

Today it was hips, my fingers tight around his upper arms, the hardness and shape of the muscle was my favourite thing other than the motion itself in this situation.

Surprisingly me once again he spun us over, it ended less well that he had hoped with him wincing, the jerked movement separating us. I burst into giggles at the pained look on his face, landing kisses all over it as I moved back, moaning as he entered me once again.

“You okay?”

“I’m good.” His eyes were already shut, they switched, sometimes closed the whole time we were in this position, sometimes open, observing me in a way that made me feel vulnerable but more desired than ever.

“I’ll be gentle.”

“That’s no fun.” I sniggered again, leaning down to kiss his lips, he responded, lips hard against mine, his hands on my hips rocking me gently back and forth.
He was right, in these moments, nothing else mattered.

There was no Bane, no bomb, no Jonathon.
Just...my boyfriend.

The term was so odd to me, foreign, I’d grown accustomed to the fact I was too fucked up to other have someone who could stand me, could deal with my little...twitches issues.
But it seemed he had managed to erase several of them, never berating or making me feel ashamed of the others.

Because, he wants you. He wants me.
I let myself internally explode.
_______________________________________________

Another fortnight passed, I’d tried, when watching the tumblers, to work out where Selena could be, if there was anywhere that we had met before, somewhere she may think of and head to.
I imagined she must want to speak to me...but then, I had never been that high on her radar when there were jewels about.

She must be loving it, the free for all, she had always hated Gotham, the control of the upper class and police...I’m sure she was in her element.

Something far more worrying had happened, a few of the ‘resistance’ had slid in with a mob, hanging back as they dragged the last couple from a lush apartment, still in simple clothes, the weather too cold, harsh.

They’d stayed with the mob, more successful than the last attempt, moving to the old stock exchange where Bane had first attacked and discovering what truly happened there, it was like a courthouse, the most corrupt possible.
No jury, one judge.

Either death or banishment, but they said from the reactions they reckoned it was the same, Bane stood in the sidelines, silent, the dark people of Gotham cheering, pushing for the worst whilst the judge decided.

The judge Jonathon Crane.
I’d let Blake a note. Just saying I had to see him.

I didn’t know why but I needed too, to speak to him properly, he could be open now.
I’d fought over the idea since I they had finally told me, apparently under instructions from Blake not too.

That angered me as much as I understood it.
Perhaps he knew what I would do.

A part of me was certain if Jonathon saw me, as intended, I’d be dead quickly.
A larger part of me hoped, prayed it wouldn’t be like that...perhaps I was still hoping for a miracle, for him to see sense.

I was aware that wouldn’t happen, I just had to talk to him, whatever the outcome was.
I think...

I’d been on patrol, early, letting me leave Blake and sneak away, a gun in my oversized coat pocket. This was stupid, such a stupid idea.

But I knew where they were, hanging behind a group of older teenagers, enough distance and quiet that they wouldn’t really see me.

But I could see them, the knives in their socks tucked over jeans, no hoods pulled over their faces.
There was no police to hide from.

I followed them straight into the stock exchange, spotting Bane easily, leaning against a wall. The thick coat on. collar up, people leaving space around him, obviously scared he would randomly pounce, decide to murder.

I couldn’t see a gun on him, slinking once again into the background, an old couple, pain hitting me instantly dragged out, the woman was bloody, her blouse buttons ripped, tights the same.

I knew what had happened and it took all my self-restraint not to start shooting the sick bastards behind them that looked pleased.

“Early today but justice waits for no man.” His voice rang out, cold, calculating, always the same. He was on a pile of torn books, chairs, tables, he even had a desk, a suit, starting to fray on. “The charges,” he continued, “Are greed, exploitation of the poor, abuse of privilege. How do you plead?”

The man took a while to reply, his arm around his now seated wife, the room quiet, but harsh whispers around me, “Not guilty, I have worked all my life for that money and I....”

“Enough,” A roar had started around the room, booing. I took a few steps forward, “As made clear by a jury not quite of your peers, since you were so highly above them you have been found guilty...but the choice is yours.” He offered, smiling sadistically, “Death...or exile?”

Exile? What could he mean by that?

The man and his wife shared a glance, his mouth opening to reply when I saw a gun lift from a man close to me, and without thinking slammed into him, knocking him to the floor, my own gun pointed at him as I breathlessly backed towards the couple.

I heard several guns click at me, but Jonathon, not even seeming shocked lifted a hand, nodded to Bane who walked forward. “Ah ah ah, no shooting in court! And no shooting her.” He smirked, “I sentence the accused to death, take them away.”

It took two men to drag the husband away, what little fight he had in him out in full force. His wife trailed after him, Bane close behind me, huge hand wrapping around my upper arm stopping me from reaching out to her.

I didn’t even scream, let the abuse that I felt for all of them inside me out.

I was silent, “Here is a token of Harvey Dent,” Bane began, “A pet, a sneak, who crept with the abused, took advantage of the needy, the poor, and sold them out to a biased and corrupt law force.”

I was met with a chorus of boos again. Bane’s free hand lifting and making them fall into silence, “But she is not on trial. She does not stand to be judged by us all when she has a family member to vouch for her.”

I was trying to depict his accent, to focus on anything but his words.

Jonathon made his way down, his legs looked like a caricature, long in his suit and he was equal in height to Bane, me in-between them like an insect, two boots hovering to crush it.

“She is not to be touched. She will have her punishment in time. The judge takes her.”

He shoved me into Jonathon’s thin hand, the other lifting high, a resounding echo as it slapped me hard around the face.