Phobia.

It wasn’t something I was used too.
Being looked after.

Blake had let me have a shower, understood, or at least pretended to, that I needed to watch everything he did with the food he made me. He had sat me down on his counter in his small kitchen, the flat was minimal, the furniture fairly cheap.
But it felt a lot more homely than my flat ever had.

“Are you still hungry?” I shook my head, murmuring a thankyou, my stomach was aching slightly from how full it was. He nodded, gently pushing my hand back toward my lap and taking the plate from my hand, placing it with a yawn in the sink.

“What are we going to do?” I asked quietly, it sounded weird ‘we’ but then, from what he said, we were in this together now... it was a strange feeling.

“You need to sleep, you’re still really pale...you can have my bed and I’ll crash on the couch,” he yawned again, “I start my shit at 6 tomorrow, and I’ll see if I can find out anything about your apartment, or if there’s anything I can bring to you...” He paused, “Is there anything there important to you you want me to look out for?” I frowned lightly, was there?

There was the picture of my parents but... and then Jonathon’s files, but I had memorised them from the hours staring, the hours in which the despise for both myself and him grew.

I shook my head slowly, pulling myself from the stool and tucking it under the counter, “There isn’t anything.” He looked doubtful but nodded; of course it was strange wasn’t it? Someone having no materials good that meant something to them, I imagine however minimalistic, or dare I say it scarce his apartment was, objects meant something to him, connected to a memory.

“Are you sure?” I nodded, smiling almost embarrassed by it. How strange it all was, I was.

“Honestly, there isn’t anything...although...I’m really going to need to buy clothes at some point,” I ended, my tone lifting slightly as I tried to joke and break the atmosphere, to try and hide how awkward I felt, even with his high level of kindness.

He was a good person, and I wasn’t used to be around properly good people.
Anna popped into my head and I felt queasy again.

“I’m really thankful you’re letting me stay here,” He glanced at me, already having moved to his bedroom, returning with a pile of blankets, “And honestly, I’ll sleep on the couch I already feel bad enough and...” He cut me off by lifting his hand, placing the blankets down before facing me,

“After what happened earlier it’s not safe you being out there, it’s fine Keira, honestly... and you’re exhausted and after Anna... it would be rude of me to make you sleep on the couch, the bed is fine.”

I gave up the argument, his eyes baring into my own until I surrendered, licking my cracked lips and nodding at him, watching as he tidied up quickly, leading me into his room and placing some old clothes on the cover.

"Goodnight," He said.
It wasnt.

_______________

“Have fun,” I said blankly, following him with my eyes as he left the apartment, and moving slowly to the window to watch his partner pull up and drive him away.
I couldn’t stay here, sitting still.
Knowing that someone was after me.
And knowing that someone was either my brother or linked to him.

But I had no-one else I trusted.
Even admitting I trusted Blake felt odd.

I sighed, my throat still ached from the crying, the silent screaming.
Gordon.
I suddenly felt alert, the drowsiness gone in a blink.
Gordon would know what to do.

My conscience bit at me – no he wouldn’t. He didn’t understand Jonathon, he never had, had never claimed too.
But he would know a safe house, some way, some other snitch like myself.
Or there was her.
I had to hope.

I half jogged back into Blake’s bedroom, pulling through the draws until I found what looked like a woman’s top, no doubt some ex. I wasn’t as lucky with the trousers, mine was in the washing machine but I pulled them out, still covered in a thin layer of dust.
I needed to get somewhere.

I wasn’t even sure where I was when I left the apartment building, the street was clean, quiet. I had to rack my brains, deciding to walk in a random direction until I had a sense of where I was.
It was a decent neighbourhood, small flats, not much graffiti or damage.
He was a police officer, not well paid, he was an orphan, no family.

I was on the opposite side of Gotham to where I lived.

Just out of the town, about a thirty minute walk to downtown, so about fifty minutes to my apartment.
About forty minutes to Selina’s apartment on the buses, I felt deep in the hoodie pocket, paper and cold coins meeting my fingers.

I would pay him back.

I can’t believe I never thought to keep money elsewhere.
It was stupid.

I was had been stupid, living in a bubble of Gordon and lies.

I wasn’t anywhere near as hidden as I had always believed.

I kept the hood high over my face, getting off the cheap bus a few stops before, they had rebuilt the monorail, but as before it had fallen into disarray, coated in graffiti from the remaining criminals the officials liked to pretend didn’t exist. I took the stairs quickly, rapping my knuckles heavily on the door and pushing past a confused looking Jen and straight into Selina’s room, swinging the door shut behind me.

She finished slipping on her shoe before turning to me, letting out a smile that would no doubt dazzle others. “I heard about your apartment,” She said, pouting slightly as he head titled to the side.
Always the actress.

“You are?” I scoffed, “I can’t imagine how you would have heard so quickly?”

“It was on the news,” she bit back, her eyes still wide, “Do you need somewhere to stay?”

“It’s fine,” I said, speaking slowly, “I’m staying with a friend.” She giggled, turning to her mirror and applying mascara, “I didn’t know you had friends.”

Her tone was light, jovial but there was a underlying meaning to her words, and there was no way I was mentioning anything about Blake, especially after everything he had done for me.

That was still so strange to me.

“Just the one,” I said carefully, finally pulling my hood down. “But I didn’t come to talk about that with you. I want to know who you told my address to and why.”

She froze, “I don’t know what you mean, I hope you’re not accusing me of...”

“I’m doing more than accusing you. I know you’re mixed up in something lately, something you don’t like.”

She turned to me, the persona ended.

“There are five people who knew that I lived there, two of them are dead, two of them I actually trust, and then there was you. I know you sold me out but I don’t know who to or why.”

Dead, Harvey, Anna.

She pursed her now red lips, “Something big is building.” She confessed, looking uncomfortable.
“With Jonathon?” I urged, and she shook her head.

“Bigger, and worse. You do not want to get mixed up in it.”

“Seeing as they’ve already tried to kill me, I think I’m pretty involved. You have to tell me what we’re looking for, who this is.”

“You can’t do anything.” She said lowly, making my own voice quieten, “Just get out of Gotham.” I pursed my lips.

“If you’re not running why should I? What are you getting from all this?...Just... just give me a name.” Her eyelids flickered,

“The attack on your flat was more Jonathon, but... he isn’t who you should be scared of, he’s still in Blackgate...”
“For now..” I could sense the end of her sentence and she grimaced.

“Bane...” she swallowed deeply, “Bane is who you should be scared of, stay out of people’s attention Keira. This friend you talk about, you stay with them and you stay out of sight.” She had drawn close to me, her dark brown eyes boring into my own.

“Why should I trust what you just said?”

“Because you know I don’t want you dead.” She said simply, pulling away and standing again, only now did I notice her formal attire. “Going somewhere fancy?”

“Fundraiser.” She said shortly, heading towards the door, “Jen will let you out...stay safe...don’t do anything stupid.”

Don’t do anything stupid was a phrase I had heard a lot over the last few years.

______________________

“You went out,” He said blankly, coming out his small bedroom in casual clothing.

“I saw someone. I got a name.”

“Name of who?”

“Gordon was right, in the sewers...Bane.”

“There’s definitely a Bane?” I nodded. “And he’s our man?” I nodded again.

“I’ll go talk to Gordon as soon we he’s awake and making sense, Foley won’t listen...and all we have is Gordon’s word.” He frowned, sitting heavily down next to me, his jean covered leg brushing against my bare one.

“You think it’s worth talking to Bruce Wayne?” I got a shrug in response.

“He hasn’t been seen properly in seven years, we don’t know how he would have reacted after we left. He might not want to come back into the world.”

“He needs to.” I said bitterly. We sat in silence until he suddenly popped up,

“I totally forgot,” he rushed back into the bedroom, pulling the small black holdall I had noticed him carry in, “Sorry, I put it down and just totally blanked...I got some bits from your apartment... It’s not much, just what was in the kitchen, the main fire was in the bedroom,”

I smiled slightly, watching as he placed the bag down on the small table, opening the zip with an almost timid gesture.

I leant forward, feeling my fingers grasp around small items, a notebook. I pulled it out, flicking through the pages, the stench of smoke strong, looking at line after line.

One for each day.

I didn’t feel the urge to quickly add two for the last couple of days, not anymore.

I placed it down, finding small random pieces, a tea-cup, a pair of boots, a gun (which he raised his eyebrows at me for) the picture of my parents, the frame blackened, the glass cracked. I felt the tears flood my eyes, “Thank you,” My voice was groggy and he placed his hand on my knee silently.

“We’ll get a new frame, clean it up.” I nodded mutely, grabbing back into the bag and bursting out in odd laughter as I pulled out the final item.

He looked at me oddly, “Why the hell did you bring a spatula?” I chuckled, his face flushing slightly before he too started to laugh, “It was on the side, I was trying to be sneaky.” I felt the tears hit me again, but this time I let them roll down my cheeks, my sides aching as I curled up, fingers around the charred offending objects.

“A spatula,” I practically cackled, causing him to laugh erratically as well, the pain, stress pouring out in the odd choking noises.

Little things that make you feel a bit better.

“If you don’t want it I’ll have it,” He said eventually, tugging it from my hand, “Mine snapped a while ago.” I let him take it, watching as he shoved it hastily in one of the draws in the small kitchen.

“You hungry?” I shrugged, and he lifted an eyebrow slightly, “Keira...” I sighed but nodded, thanking him instantly.

“I don’t have much,” I felt guilty instantly, he didn’t have much money and here I was just mooching off of him, “Pizza okay?” I blinked and I was back in the room nodding eagerly.

“I have a way I can get money.” I blurted randomly, when the thought sprung to mine, he walked back over with a glass of water in hand, “When Jonathon was arrested I legally inherited control of all his accounts. I could go in and get money from his account... Gordon has all my legal documents somewhere.” He pursed his thin lips.

“But won’t that put you back on the map? If there are people...”

“I know, it’s just an option.” I sighed, “If it comes to it, it’s not fair me sponging off you...”

“How many times do I have to tell you it’s fine.” He said, sitting down at an angle so he was facing me.

“And every time you do I think how odd is it for someone who doesn’t know me to be so selfless,” I admitted, avoiding his eyes, “There is no reason for you to help me, yet you keep doing so.”

“Not everyone is as bad as you think,” He said slowly, offering no more. I bit my lip but accepted,
“Well...you have no idea how grateful I am Blake.”

“You are aware my first name is actually John right?” I grinned slightly, shrugging.

“I prefer Blake.” He rolled his eyes slightly,

“You want to watch a film?” I must have looked confused as he continued, “Today has been shit, you need to relax at least for a little bit, and we can plan our next move tomorrow.” I nodded, not wanting to tell him all I wanted to do was sleep, but at the same time sleep was plagued with glimpses of the burnt Anne, Jonathon lurking.

“I haven’t got many but feel free to chose one.” He added, checking the oven and not resurfacing until I had moved, making my way to the small TV set, and scanning over the DVD’s, picking one out at random.

By the time the opening sequence of that film had begun and the pizza had been eaten I had fallen asleep against Blake.

And I didn’t have a single nightmare.