The wounds that can't be washed away.
The rain had driven them into the cosy coffee shop in the middle of their shopping trip. It was stuffy indoors and breath and condensation coated the window. Before the weeping woman, the cool and refreshing spring rain would have been appealing to Kate Kane. It would have coated her white skin, dripped off her red hair and melted into Maggie Sawyer's soft blond curls. But now, Kate had had too much water.
Detective Sawyer took the plastic tray over to her sulky kid girlfriend. Kate was somewhere else again. If Maggie was to stare harder at she would see the rain reflected in Kate's glassy eyes. If she asked, Kate would have reminisced about her military training; mud and sweat and rain and tears. Water mixing with water.
Instead Maggie broke the silence.
"I'm not sure what kind of coffee shop runs out of milk, but I got you an espresso."
"Thanks."
"You looked like you needed something strong."
Kate's pale skin reflected the grey light, even darker grey circles clung beneath her eyes.
"I'm sorry, this should be a celebration.. Case closed and all that." Kate grimaced.
"Hmm," Maggie began, "closed. But not by me. Whoever the Batwoman is, she's a skilled vigilante but not a subtle investigator. She's going to get herself killed."
Again silence descends. Kate scrapes her hands through her wet hair and disappears into a recent memory. This time she is under Gotham's docks drowning. The wetness crawls up her body, an ankle, her waist, her shoulders, around her neck, and down her throat. Maggie watches. This time, she sees the water reflected in her girlfriend's eyes. Detective Sawyer takes her chair closer, surrounds Kate with warm and tight grasp and remembers the conversation she'd had with Gordon only two days earlier.
"I'd be surprised if Bruce really thought I was in the dark. I've been working this beat longer than he has. But to tell him, to reveal that I had spotted the crack in his armor, would unnerve him, to say the least. If you're sure Kane is Batwoman I suggest you keep it to yourself."
"It's different. Kate's just some cocky kid. Bright and athletic, but not emotionally ready to look after herself. Let alone Gotham."
"Just give her a chance."
"A chance, a second, a millisecond is all it will take for her to get killed."
Then, a gunshot cracks like thunder and crashes through the memories. The women are on their feet, shouting, telling everyone to hide, to get behind the bar. Across rain-cloaked windows, a shadowed figure creeps. "Kate, take my gun" Sawyer barks.
"You need it more."
And then Kate disappears into the rain, a red streak of water on the window pane.
"Shit". Then to everyone in the crowded shop. "I'm a police officer, everyone remain calm and stay still till we have this under control."
Maggie leaves, and finds the figure already subdued.
"Just a crazy" Kate calls, and Sawyer wonders who she's referring to. "Trying for a suicide by cop, I think."
Kate is smiling; her rich, raw, wounded smile. "Next time they'll just point the gun the other way."
No time for tellings-off, no need to remind her how reckless and ridiculous it was to run at a gunman. The on-duty officers arrive and congratulate Sawyer, and she takes it with good grace. It all just seems simpler than explaining that an unarmed civilian took down a crazed, desperate individual in mere seconds. Kate doesn't correct them, perhaps she doesn't want to dredge up those rainy days of training, her weapon proficiency or the thousands of hours of work she's done in preparation for her new night-job. By the time the officers take over, and the crime scene is cleared, both women are both soaked through.
"There was no need to worry, criminals don't commit crimes in the pouring rain. Only maniacs brave the downpours." Kate explains as she drags Detective Sawyer into a secluded alley. Then, mostly to herself, Kate says "no-one could ever be hurt by water." She slides her hands down Maggie's sopping blouse, holds her hips and presses a full and excited and exhilarated kiss against her lips.
"Kate..."
"I know.. I know," she replies breathlessly, "not here." She pulls away from the red brick wall to which Maggie is pinned.
"That's not what I meant. I want you, now. Here. I want you. All of you. And for you to share everything."
"Everything?" Kate walks backwards to the opposite alley-wall and leans against it. She crosses her legs and arms.
"Yes. Now.." Sawyer affirms, and as an afterthought, "please."
Kate's body relaxes as she begins to peel away damp clothes. Next to clean and sensible underwear the colours appear, a web of bruises trail from shins to slender finger-lines across her neck, that surely would have been visible if you looked hard enough. Maggie stares, surprised that she would show the bruises so willingly. She goes to her twisted-up girlfriend and begins to trace the lines with callused and warm hands. Kate raises one side of her mouth in twisted, frustrated half-smile. "How long have you known?"
"A while... You never were subtle and I wouldn't be much of an inspector if I couldn't see through a cheap wig and a skin-tight suit."
Kate pouts. "It wasn't cheap"
Detective Sawyer curls her fingers into Kate's thick red hair, and kissing her hard. "I like seeing the real you." Then when Kate tries to reciprocate, to stroke Sawyer's neck the detective calls.
"Keep your hands against the wall, you naughty vigilante.. I'm going to get closer look." She kneels, peels away panties and twists and pulls the hair there gently. Here there is more water, and Sawyer drinks deeply. The rain clears, and panting in the alleyway are two women, one young, one older, one bruised and one callused, waiting for the water to evaporate off their bodies.
They dress quickly and Kate remembers her coat, left behind in the coffee shop. It's dry, and she offers it to Maggie, whose clothes are still damp. Despite waiting, the lectures don't come, and in a way Kate is disappointed. She enjoys Sawyer's attempts to reform her, but perhaps Maggie understands that whatever Batwoman is, she's helping to keep Kate together. That confident smile which ripped through Kate's sallow flesh after she subdued the desperate gunman is all Maggie needs for now.
When they get home Detective Sawyer makes them a coffee. At last the stories of lost sisters returning, still missing children, and agencies and enemies fill her kitchen. Kate cries about Phoebe, who is barely stable in the hospital. And whitewashes the bits which involve her father, wishing him clear of the story. Half-holding her breath she admits in her smallest voice.
"Maggie,
...I'm drowning"