Levity

Rachel Dawes had died a year ago. Harvey Dent two days later. That left Bruce. Harvey took Batman with him and left Bruce blaming himself for two deaths.

Harvey had taken Batman but left a crumbled Bruce. Shattering his soul, his body. Sometimes I feared even his mind.

I shook that familiar thought away, pushing my hair out of my face and smiling at the security guard, thanking him as he held open the door for me. “Have a nice day Miss Napier.” I plastered on a small smile, not at all surprised he had learnt my name by now, “Thanks, you too.” I knew the pleasantry didn’t reach my eyes but once the slick doors closed I didn’t care and my lips fell back into their now usual frown.

It went far deeper than a simple frown but I stopped my jaw from jutting, fiddling with the hem of my skirt again in some weak attempt at distraction and pressed the button to the penthouse. It was still early, and the fluorescent light was a little uncomfortable on my eyes, but I would have taken anything over the news I was travelling to deliver.

Not that my feelings about it all mattered. They shouldn't matter.

The lift stopped with a click and the doors swiftly opened. I heard the soft padding of feet before I saw the older man but my face had stopped him half way through his question.

“You're early, is everything alright?”

“Is he here?” Alfred nodded slowly, tightening his dressing gown and stiffly moving to his employers grand room at the other end of the floor. I didn’t follow, only Alfred could ruse him enough to leave the confines of his bed, and other than the occasional stressed word over the phone I hadn’t seen him in weeks. It was a couple of minutes before they returned, Alfred rubbing his hand through his hair, Bruce through his beard.

“What is it Eleanor?” He limped over a little too close, so his breath danced over me, reeking of stale alcohol.

“Put the news on.”

Alfred did as I said wordlessly and as the sun broke over the maze of skyscrapers outside the sound flooded the large lounge area. “Master Wayne...” Bruce stopped his closest companion with a flick of the wrist, limping heavily to the pristine couch and lowering himself, letting me follow slowly after, although my stomach was twisting too much to sit.

“When?”

“Last night.” I swallowed hard, finding my mouth suddenly dry, “One of the doctors must have helped them escape, and they were all at Blackgate...even though....”

They had said one of the three was deep in the confines of the closed down Asylum, the only patient Arkham would ever have again. That had been a lie, all of it had been lies.

Bruce carefully studied the news anchor for a few moments, rubbing a lined hand over his equally tired face. “You need to go into protective custody, out of Gotham...”

“No...” I stuttered over the word, “No I can’t. He’s not doing it for me. You know exactly who his target will be Bruce, who all of them will come for...” Why was my voice lifting so high? I clear my throat in a weak attempt to sound a little calmer.

“Maybe they’ll have sense enough to leave Gotham.” Alfred interjected, although he didn’t even seem to be convincing himself of it, “They’ll go elsewhere, lay low.” His hand rested over his mouth. We all knew he was wrong and there were a few moments of silence after I next spoke.

“All of them will target Batman.”

Bruce’s fingers curled, resting on his damaged knee. The rays of light were breaking through the wide panels of windows and I watched them illuminate the carved lines close to his eyes.

“There is no Batman anymore.”

“Bruce...”

“No.” He shoved himself up, shaking away Alfred once again. “There is no Batman to target. I will not hurt anybody else...”

“That won’t stop them doing the same.” The butler was curt.

“The authorities can handle it.”

“The authorities are based on a lie. The police still believe you killed Harvey, all those other people...” He brushed aside the argument that sprang from me.

“Jim Gordon doesn’t and he is the commissioner.”

I rolled my eyes, eyelashes still spiked together from yesterdays mascara, “And how long until they kill him? You need to stop it now.” His mouth opened, “I know they’ll try and stop you, but you can get them before they do too much damage Bruce. He’ll...The Joker especially will want to tempt you back out, and he’ll do anything to get that reaction.”

His eyes fluttered towards the picture of Rachel on the coffee table. “How much more can they do?”

I couldn’t stop the side of my mouth lifting, “You have no idea." I swallowed hard again, "Crane has proved he has no limits... what if he still has connections with this League of Shadows-"

“There is no League of Shadows, they’re gone.” He finally turned to meet me properly with a scoff, although any tiny hint of humour vanished, “Crane needs a team, discipline, a plan.” I could see the cogs behind his eyes turning, “He needs control. The Joker...” I was glad he stopped himself, and his mouth tightened into a near invisible line, “You’ll stay here. Protected.”

The shake of my head was instinct, and my fingers were claws in my hair, “He’s broken in here before!”

“And whose fault was that?!” I stopped myself from quivering at the lift of his voice, the hoarseness flooding the words. Alfred wouldn’t meet my eyes. “That wasn’t me.” I said lowly, although I could easy add to my list of lies. “And... I’m fine, don't worry about me. I... I just thought you should know. You’ve spent far too much time locked up in here hiding from everything! You’re Batman!” He watched me walk away, my feet stomping hard against the expensive wood flooring.

“I was Batman.”

And now the Joker was free, I was as good as dead.

Jack would see to that.

I hid the rest of the day, slinking back to my apartment and burying myself in my bed cover. I didn’t sleep, I couldn’t, not knowing they were free. The Riddler meant nothing to me. Edward Nigma an intelligent man who strived for a sort of psychopathic power he couldn’t manage or hold.

But I couldn’t pretend one of them didn’t terrify them. I couldn’t pretend that the very moment that changed everything was down to him. Down to me.

If Bruce refused to come back, if Batman remained hidden. Maybe the police would have a chance. Gordon was smart, intuitive. But he would never understand the Joker, at points in my life I thought I had but I had been wrong, so wrong.

If I left it too long the Joker would find me here. He’d storm in, with either a group of thugs and imbeciles he’d had waiting, warped minds he’d have no trouble controlling, or he’d sneak in alone and I’d find his knife deep in my roommates throat.

Luckily Liam was out. He had left for the very reason I had originally clung to him. Liam was a cop, a good guy. He'd been in danger plenty of times, throughout everything that had happened with Crane's fear serum, through the Joker's reign of terror those long months ago. If I waited here the Joker would find me and kill one of the only people I really cared about.

Maybe I deserved that, but Liam didn't. I couldn't allow it to happen. Irony bit at me. The only reason I had ever come to be close to Liam was as a way to benefit myself. I used him for protection, and any night I spent fucking him was one I didn't have to spend in the Narrows. It was one I didn't have to spend with Jack. Some nights that was a blessing, others a curse. He knew a little, about the man my life revolved around, but not as much as Bruce. That was purposeful, I'd managed to keep him away from Jack before, made up poor excuses for bruises.

The best way to keep Liam safe was to never see him again. To pray he didn't try and look for me.

I force myself out of bed and into the shower, turning the water up as hot as it went. I had been living in Liam's apartment for just over a year. The most settled I had ever been. It had been foolish to believe that once the Joker had been locked away that I was free. Once the mob had become involved I had taken my escape, still amazed that it had worked, that the Joker seemed to have set me somewhat free. As ever I had been wrong, but throughout his reign of terror I had only seen Jack a few times, never at the apartment but never by my choice.

He knew where I lived, I had no doubt about that. So why was I stalling? After my shower I spent too long slathering on make-up and perfecting my hair. Was it worth packing and making a run for it? Leaving Gotham? I had nowhere to go, I had no-one else.

My only option was to find him before he found me. To beg for my friends life and accept whatever repercussions came my way.

If I met him, made the move, I could show him that I wasn’t hiding,
pretend I wasn’t scared. He could have me, nobody else. If he killed me, that may be enough, he’d finally have that bit of revenge he’d longed for for years. A part of me wanted him too. To end the twisted game that had dictated the last fifteen years of my life, the absolute best and worst moments of my memory.

The worst parts belonged to everyone who had witnessed them. But the good parts were mine. In some twisted way he would always be mine. Even if that beauty was just a distant memory marred by everything since. Torn by decisions I had made, things that had come into play and broken us both.

If he was mine. Then I was entirely his.

That could never be in question.

I was as fucking sick in the head as any of his little goons.