Saving Your Skin
Gotham's police had become desperate, taking pot shots at him whenever possible. It was inevitable that one would connect. The entire trip to the Bat Cave had been made in a haze of pain, it had only taken a moment for Alfred to place a call and help him out of the Bat Pod. Bruce struggled out of the Bat suit; the slick feeling of blood trickling down his back churned his stomach. In all his years of being the Dark Knight, he had taken only a few bullets most were grazes. There had been one in the gut and now this one in his back. Nothing like being shot by the people you once trusted.
Alfred watched the elevator that descended into the Bat cave, the young red haired woman knelt rifling through a large duffel. She raised her head; brilliant blue eyes calmly met his gaze. Alfred nodded and moved to help her down over the rocks. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of Bruce slumped in a chair, a heavy towel between his back and the chair, the towel was all ready soaked with blood. A bitter grimace had spread across his face. She knelt between his legs, a pen light flashing across his eyes.
"Stay with me, Bruce." Her soft voice breaking the nervous silence.
Sophia hid her nervousness, her desperation, the smooth movements of her hands, and the perfection in her actions. They were her mask and she clung to them. It wasn't long before the bullet had been removed; the muscle stitched together, skin stitched shut. Sophia pulled off bloody gloves and stretched. She had dosed Bruce heavily with pain killers and sedatives, the bruises on his body stood out stark against his pale skin. She nodded to Alfred.
"We need to get him cleaned up, and I have an idea for the bruises."
Bruce started to become aware, the pain was a dull throb in his back. Hot water was washing down his chest, he watched it turn pink and then clear again. He was seated in his shower, propped up across from the shower head.
"Alfred?" Bruce turned his groan into a name; the white haired man was at his side.
"Welcome back." Bruce tried to shake away the dizziness as Alfred helped him stand and collapse into his bed. He was staring down at his chest; the scars that had littered his chest were gone.
"What happened?" Alfred smiled and nodded to the red haired woman leaning against the window.
"They are cosmetic patches, designed to cover bruises by matching the original skin pigmentation. They work like a charm on scars and healing bullet wounds. If you do tear a stitch, they will act as a bandage till I can fix it." Alfred was practically beaming, Bruce forced a smile.
"Now I can model for that underwear calendar." Sophia snorted and shrugged.
"Whatever floats your boat." She pushed herself away from the window, a look of concern on her face.
"Alfred, why the police coming down the drive?" Alfred didn't bother answering her, he was gone, moving to intercept.
Sophia saw the look of defeat that crossed Bruce's face. Her spirit rebelled against the thought that this would end like this. She crossed the room and checked the bathroom for blood; it was clean, after all Alfred was very good at his job. Bruce was propped up on a few pillows in the middle of his bed. She knew Alfred hadn't bothered with boxer shorts, but had rather just levered the man into his bed. She cursed and riffled through his dirty laundry, scattering the remnants of a suit around the room.
"What are you doing?" Bruce's voice still mildly groggy, amusement shone out of his eyes.
"Saving your skin." Sophia muttered and started pulling clothes off; she cast her clothes around the room, strategically placing a few pieces. She didn't dare look up at Bruce, but she could feel his eyes following her. The thunderous knocking on the front door was enough of an incentive to drive the last step. She vaulted into the bed, draping the sheet around their bodies, she straddled Bruce's hips.
Bruce sat frozen as the woman straddled his hips. Her hands where warm on his neck.
"Make it look good, playboy." His hands moved up to her waist, her lips found his and the heat that had pooled in his stomach leapt back into his veins. His hands moved, pulling her in closer, she opened her mouth letting him in, fingers danced through his hair. The blood pounding in his ears drown out everything else. It was the rush of cooler air that alerted him to the invasion of his privacy. He pulled the woman closer to his chest, the sheet offered them both a little privacy. A snarl tore through his calm face.
"Who do you think you are?" The grayed face of Police Commissioner Gordon looked less than amused.
"We have a warrant to search your premises for Batman." Bruce scoffed; he shifted for a better view of the police officers nervously glancing around his room. Alfred stood glowering in the corner.
"I doubt he's hiding under my bed." Gordon sighed and tossed the paper at the foot of the bed.
"The warrant includes you, we have reason to believe that Batman was shot in the back while fleeing the scene." Bruce felt the woman pressed against his chest shiver slightly. He brushed a kiss on her lips before rolling out of the bed, his adrenaline made the movements fairly easy. Bruce felt a hitch in his back, but the pain killers were keeping everything at an arms pace. He proudly stood, calmly spinning a slow circle.
"I think I would remember being shot." He muttered before taking the robe that Alfred offered.
"We appreciate your cooperation." Gordon nodded and officers fanned out, invading every corner of the house.
Gordon remained here he was, patiently observing. The red haired woman was Dr. Sophia Carson; she had her back to the headboard, the satin sheets wrapped around her body. She looked angry, but it wasn't really directed at his men. Instead it was pointed at Bruce Wayne, his long body casually leaning against the window, watching his mansion being searched. The butler, Alfred, stood beside him. Gordon briefly wondered what this man had done to deserve such loyalty.
When the police had left and the only reminder of their presence was the crumpled piece of paper at the foot of Bruce's bed. Sophia crept from the bed; Bruce had stepped into the bathroom, the ache in his back visible with each step. She didn't bother rooting through the pile of clothes for her's, she borrowed a pair of sweats and made a barefooted dash through the mansion to her car. Not trusting herself to breathe till she had made it past the gates and was cruising through the streets of Gotham. She parked her car outside of her apartment, resting her head on the steering wheel for a moment. Embarrassment flashed through her every time she went back to the moment that she had straddled Bruce. The feeling of his hands on her body pulling her in closer. Sophia pushed the thoughts and emotions away, demanding her hands to stop shaking. She padded across the parking lot and up to her apartment. Sophia promised herself that she would go back tomorrow; she would face that battle without thoughts of her and Bruce between those satin sheets.
Bruce had heard the quick footsteps and quiet curse words. His body had carried him to the door before his mind caught up, what could he possibly say to her. He was drawing a blank, the pain killers were dragging him down into the sea of gray. Alfred was knocking on the bathroom door; Bruce opened it and prayed for the briefest moment that he had imagined everything and that she was still there crouched in his bed. The freshly made sheets shattered that image, bringing him back to the moment.
"She left." Alfred nodded and helped him back to the bed.
"She will be back." The certainty in Alfred's voice was a cool wave of relief, after all he was right. She would be back, and Bruce would be ready.
Alfred watched Bruce collapse into sleep and stepped back, he couldn't explain the joy that had thrilled through him when the door had opened on the two of them. Bruce's face had been open with excitement, his eyes bright with happiness, even if it was only for a moment. If there was anything Alfred could do to protect Bruce's happiness, then he would gladly do it.