Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Christopher Nolan's Batman series, I am only a poor college student who writes for my own amusement.
They meet in the most innocuous way.
Both reach for the door of St. Swithin's Home for Boys at the same time. Awkwardly, she retracts her hand, and he takes the chance to grasp the handle firmly and pull it open for her. "Thank you," she says, stepping into a dim and drafty hall.
"Hey, no problem." The stranger is young and friendly in dark wash jeans and a heavy navy jacket. He follows her inside. "You here to see a kid?"
"Um, kind of, I guess. I'm actually here as the new therapist, it's my first day." She gives him a shy smile as they walk down the hall. She really doesn't know where to go, but she figures that he looks like he's familiar with the place, and it wouldn't hurt to follow. "But if I do my job right, I should be seeing lots of kids."
His light brown eyes light up. "Really? That's great! Man, that's really great. I know that with the budget cuts from a couple years back this place has been really understaffed. I'm glad that you're here, lots of kids could really benefit from some counseling, you know?" He stops in front of a door. "Here's the front office, you'll probably want to check in with Friar Reilly. You'll soon find out he runs a tight ship, but he's a good man."
"Thanks." She smiles again, then turns to the office door.
"Hey, I'm John, by the way. John Blake." He extends a hand, and she accepts it. His palm is warm, the fingers long and firm.
"Evie Chen, nice to meet you."
"So would that be Dr. Chen, then?"
"Just Evie, for people I like." And she decides that she does like him. His face is open, easy, and his smiles are freely given.
They part then, but she sees him again a week later. It's Evie's lunch break, and she decides to spend it on the rooftop recreation center. Some of the older boys are playing a game of soccer on the basketball court, so she seats herself on the bleachers with her sandwich and a thermos of green tea to watch. It takes her only a few seconds to recognize him on the field, slim and long legged. It's obvious that he holds back to let the kids have their moments to shine, but towards the end of the game he distinguishes himself with a truly spectacular goal that earns him shouts all around and an excited mobbing from the boys. Evie lets out a cheer, and he raises his head, makes eye contact, and grins.
They love him, she thinks as she watches the kids gravitate to him, bounce around him, jump on him and pump him playfully on the arms. It's only been a week for her on the job, and she's already made headway with some of the boys, but she hopes wistfully that one day they can love and admire her the same way that they obviously do with him.
Once the crowd has dispersed, he makes his way to the bleachers. They're old and dirty, so Evie has to scoot down to make room for him to sit without smearing bird feces on his pants. "That was a great shot! Nice to see you again," she says.
"Yeah, you're probably going to see a lot of me from now on." He lowers himself next to her and brushes the dirt off the front of his clothes. "I like to come here on my off days. It's always great to see the kids, and it's good for me. Keeps me young." He grins at her again, looking like a boy himself.
"What do you do for a living?" She set aside her sandwich. It wasn't very good, but between the move to Gotham and starting a new job she hadn't had much time to do any quality grocery shopping, so her lunches had been made of the worst cuts of meat and the cheapest cheese at the store. The tea was good though, and warm, so she sips on that.
He reaches into his jacket pocket and flips open his wallet at her. Evie leans forwards to read it. "Officer John Blake, Gotham City Police Department." She is mildly surprised.
He must've seen it on her face, because he asks, "Not what you expected?"
"I thought you might be a journalist, or a book editor." She was having a hard time imagining this smiley, well-mannered man out on the streets, kicking down doors and arresting hooligans.
Blake laughs, tucking his wallet back into his jacket. "I guess it's true that I don't really look like a tough guy. I've heard this all my life."
"But it didn't stop you from joining the force?"
"Nope. Always wanted to be a cop, ever since I was a kid. Most kids grow out of it, but I never did."
"So you visit boys' orphanages on the off days when you're not out on the streets keeping Gotham safe. You're a regular Officer Friendly, aren't you?"
He looks down and is quiet for a brief moment. Evie is afraid that he hasn't taken well to her joking tone, when he says, "I like to think so. I mean, it's who I try to be. But it's not all I am, you know?" Blake raises his head, and she sees steel flash in his eyes.
"I know." She senses there is more swirling under the surface, but her instincts have taught her to tread lightly where other people's convictions were concerned.
"Do you?"
"I think… underneath, inside each of us, we are more than we seem. And more than others believe we can be."
Blake holds her gaze for a few more seconds, and then suddenly smiles again, all the tension gone from his face at once. "No wonder you're a shrink," he says.
Evie smacks him lightly on the shoulder with her discarded sandwich. "I prefer the term, 'child psychologist.'"
"Seriously, the kids must love it when you say stuff like that. And hey, all jokes aside, they need to hear that more."
"Yeah, I know. I love it here already. It's hard, and I don't always get through to them, but it's been great so far. Though it's also good to talk to another adult for once." She still didn't really know anyone in Gotham, and Blake seemed like a good guy, easy to talk to. And then suddenly she knows what she wants to ask him. "Hey, if you're not busy later, you want to grab a drink when I get off work?"
He looks surprised. "Yeah. Yeah sure, I'd like that."
When she leaves her office later that day at 5, he was waiting for her by the front door. "I don't really know any places yet, so you're going to have to recommend one," she says.
So he takes her to a nearby hang out, small and cozy, and not too loud. They grab seats at the bar. Evie orders a Sex on the Beach (and defended her choice against Blake's teasing with, "What? I'm from SoCal!"); he orders an Old Fashioned. They have a good time chatting and getting pleasantly buzzed, with the occasional friend or acquaintance coming up to greet Blake, and the evening ends when he drives her back to her apartment.
Evie continues to see him with the boys at St. Swithin's once a week. They have drinks three more times before, while dropping her off for the night, he gets out of his car and takes her right to the door. Every girl knows what this means, and Evie's heart pounds loudly as she looks up at him, fingers playing with her keys nervously.
"I really hope you don't have a secret boyfriend you haven't mentioned yet," he says.
"If you're about to do what I think you are, I really hope so too."
Blake bends his head forwards, and she rises onto her toes to meet him. His lips are soft but firm against hers, and her mouth opens for him like a flower. As his tongue slips in, slowly, languidly, his arms come up and his hands cup her face. Evie's hands float upwards to his shoulders.
When they break apart, he smiles to see her flushed face. "Can I take you out to dinner tomorrow? Like on a date?"
"Will you be wearing a suit?" She grins, feeling happier than she's been in a long time.
"I'll wear whatever you want me to wear, if you'll say yes. I like you a lot. You're something else, you know that? And I want to see what you look like out of your work clothes."
"Then I say yes. Tomorrow at 6?"
He nodded, grinning widely all the while, gave her hand one last squeeze, and then practically skipped back to his beat up old Corolla.
Blake shows up at 6 on the dot. When Evie opens the door, she can't help but swoon a little on the inside. Blake wearing his normal clothes, such as the ones she sees him wear at St. Swithin's, is straight cut and casually attractive. Blake wearing a nice dark dress suit complete with jacket and red tie is…
"Wow. Just- wow," he says, taking in her red halter dress. "You look phenomenal."
"I was just going to say the same of you, actually. Very handsome, Officer Blake."
He takes her to a very nice restaurant in Midtown called D'orsia. There's a doorman, and everyone inside is dressed quite formally. Evie tries not to think about how he probably had to get a reservation a week ahead of time, and how she knows he barely makes anything from his job as a beat cop. She senses that it's been a while since he's been on a date. The food is delicious, but she's mostly just happy to be there with him, listening to his voice, watching his hands handle the cutlery, seeing his eyes light up more often than not during their mealtime conversation.
He tactfully handles the check, and though Evie usually makes it a point to pay for herself on dates with guys she doesn't yet know very well, she lets this one slide. Maybe it's because she sees how happy it makes him to do it.
Afterwards, instead of taking her home he draws her into a little hole in the wall. There's a live jazz band inside, and it's dark and hazy, packed, the crowd somewhat different from what she's used to. This is the real deal, authentic big band jazz from the 30's and 40's, and all the dancers on the floor are elderly couples swinging around merrily.
"Oh my gosh, John!"
He grins and pulls her onto the dance floor. It's a mid-tempo song, cheerful but poignantly beautiful. "This is Artie Shaw's 'Stardust,'" he whispers into her ear, drawing her close. "My parents used to love this song."
They drift along on the floor, slow dancing to the beat. Evie places her head on his chest, since she's too short to reach his shoulder. It feels just fine, though, and as he spins them around she looks dreamily at the other couples on the floor. The elderly women look back at her, nodding and wink approvingly, as if to say, "That's right. Enjoy this, young lady, because it doesn't happen to everyone."
They stay for a long time, drunk on the music and the mood of the night. Finally, as the club closes up for the night, Blake leads her out and drives her back home. The tension between them builds as they go up the steps to the door, but by then Evie's made her decision.
"Why don't you come in?" she asks. And whatever happens will happen. She sticks the key in and opens the door.
Almost immediately she feels that something is wrong. She hadn't yet gotten around to unpacking most of her boxes, but even with the lights still off she could tell some of them had been moved, and others had been opened. She froze and one hand reached out to grab Blake's arm.
"Someone's been here…" she whispers.
It takes him a mere second to move her behind him and crouch down. "Stay here," he says firmly in a low voice, and then he advances cautiously into the apartment. He hasn't taken three steps when suddenly a shadowy figure emerges from the hallway.
Evie jumps back but manages to muffle her gasp behind her hand. Blake is pure calm, though. "You're not supposed to be here. Come out here where I can see you," he says. It's his police officer voice, and Evie has never heard it before, but she recognizes the quiet power behind it.
"Like hell!" growls the figure.
Suddenly there is gunfire, Evie screams, and Blake shoves her hard back out the door. He takes cover against the doorframe, and a second later she sees a gun in his hand. "Lay down your weapon now, or I shoot!" he yells. There's no answer, only more shots, so Blake steels himself a moment before he leaning out of the doorframe and firing two shots at the intruder. There's a cry of pain, a loud thud, and lots of cursing from inside. "Are you alone?" yells Blake.
"Fuck you!"
Blake launches himself back inside before Evie can do anything except crane her head after him, terrified that a second assailant will appear and gun him down in front of her. She watches, frozen with fear, as the man on the ground fumbles for his gun as Blake charges him. Before he can reach it, he gets a tremendous right hook to the face and collapses, groaning, on her living room carpet. Only then does Blake look at her over his shoulder. "Stay there, I'm going to check the other rooms."
Evie stares at the man on her floor. His dark blood is leaking out of his leg from where Blake shot him. She really hopes he isn't dead, because how would she ever explain this to her landlord? Or her friends and family back home, who all berated her for her choice to move to Gotham? The man I'm dating shot a burglar in my home. She's having trouble even processing the fact that he brought a gun on their date. Was this normal for off-duty cops? She has no idea.
She's not alone with her thoughts too long, because it takes all of fifteen seconds for Blake to check the rest of her tiny apartment. He comes back, but with rope in his hands. Evie has no idea where he found it, and watches dumbly as he ties the man's hands and feet securely behind him, and then to the leg of her coffee table. Not dead, then. Dead men don't run.
"I gotta call this in," he says, reaching for his phone.
When the police come, the neighbors descend as well. They had been too frightened to investigate until the cops arrived on the scene, but now flock around the door of her apartment like rabidly curious vultures. Members of the force collect and wheel away the intruder, and then interview both Evie and Blake, though mostly Blake. He gives a full and complete detailed description of the evening's happenings, even including their date, as a gentle policewoman sat Evie down with a blanket and some tea.
"We're going to canvas this apartment and get back to you with what we find," says the head officer at the scene. "It's a good thing you were here, Blake. This guy wasn't working alone, though he was the only one left by the time you got back." He turns to Evie. "We're sorry this happened to you, Ms. Chen. As we've said, they've made off with some of your belongings, and we'll need this area for investigation and analysis. It would be best if you found different living arrangements for the next week or so while we work on finding the rest of the responsible parties."
Blake puts his hand over her shoulder. "You're welcome to stay at my place if you want. Or I can take you to a hotel if you'd like, or drop you off at a friend's house."
She shakes her head, still dazed. "I don't know anyone, and I'd rather not stay somewhere alone. Not after tonight." Evie reaches up to squeeze his hand. "Are you sure you don't mind?"
"Of course not. Let's put together some essentials for you to bring over, all right?"
Blake watches her pack a suitcase, into which she haphazardly throws a few clean outfits for work, some underwear, a facial cleanser and a moisturizer, her makeup, and contact solution. He closes the top and carries it to his car, saying, "This is a good amount, you probably don't need to stay away for more than a few days. Unless of course you need more time, which is totally fine." They take their leave of the officers still wrapping up her apartment, and then Blake drives them to his.
Evie's never been to his place before, but she's not surprised to see that he lives in a moderately small and nondescript old brownstone. He takes her up the stairwell to the sixth floor, number 612, and ushers her gently inside. As she's long suspected it might, the place has an air of emptiness about it- not quite sterile, but certainly not homey. The furniture is plain and sturdy, the space of each room uncluttered. There's nothing dirty about it (thankfully she can see no mold or cobwebs, and no mountain of dirty dishes in the sink) but it's definitely not Wayne Manor.
He starts apologizing as soon as she's taken off her coat. "I know it's not much, I rarely have people over. To me, this is just a place to sleep every night, you know? I try to live as much of my life out there—," he points out the window, "—as possible."
"It's fine, really." It's exactly the sort of place she would expect a poor but career-driven bachelor to live, and she finds that it suits him well.
He lets her have the first shower, and it's only after Evie's done that she realizes she forgot to bring any pajamas with her. Embarrassed, she comes out in a towel and asks if he has an old shirt she could borrow. He rummages around an old wardrobe and finally comes up with a shirt from his old days at the police academy, the letters GCPD proudly emblazoned on the front in bold golden font. It's comfortable the way old clothing is always comfortable, and it goes all the way down to her knees, so she doesn't bother with a bra or pants, opting instead for just the shirt and underwear.
Blake disappears into the bathroom after she comes out, and without even thinking about it, Evie collapses onto his bed, her long wet hair flared out cold and slightly sticky around her head. The alarm clock on the nightstand tells her it's almost 4 AM. The light and pleasant smell of his generic shampoo surrounds her. She turns over, blindly pulls the comforter over herself, and promptly passes out.
Everything else is just going to have to wait until the morning.
Author's notes: A little late to the party, I know, but I just saw TDKR a few nights ago and I absolutely fell in love with John Blake. I've always enjoyed JGL's work, and I definitely think this is another strong performance for him with a really great character. So in a way, it hurts me to have to do this to him in my story!
However, as Bruce Wayne knows, behind every great man is a great woman (or several, as in his case). I just feel that there's no way Blake doesn't have someone in his life, someone who pushes him to do better, work harder. A man can't live on revenge for long; there must be something to keep him going, especially with his future ahead of him. Somehow, I just imagine that person to be an ordinary woman who brings out the extraordinary in him.
I don't ship BanexBlake but I do feel that Bane story arc in TDKR is perfect for what I have in mind.
Cheers and thanks for reading!