A/N- Hey all. What follows is Vauseman Batman AU, a collaboration co written by myself and reverse-swing (if you have not yet read all of her other stories you need to do so). It's been awhile since I've posted (or even written) anything, and I've kind of been wanting to get back into it. reverse-swing sort of kicked my ass and told me to do something as opposed to just talking about doing something, and then further suggested we do something together, and so here we are... And here's our first chapter. Enjoy!
...
Alex Vause remembers a time, a mere six months ago in fact, when she would've cased a penthouse by crouching across the street in the freezing cold and looking through the windows with binoculars. However, now that she has a degree of success under her belt and a little collateral to her name, she's been able to afford a much less dreary intelligence gathering method.
Alex barely remembers the hostess's name (Mary? Mandy?) only knows that the Society Page said something about her going to build houses in South America for a few weeks, thus leaving her extensive collection of jewelry and art, as well as the contents of her safe, unguarded. A perfect mark for the enterprising cat burglar.
She's here to get the layout of the place, entrances, safes, exits... she knows from the blueprints where they are, but seeing it up close is different, and vital to the success of a job. She's been at it for about an hour, snapping pictures with her cell phone while pretending to text, when she finally decides she's had enough.
As amusing as she finds it to rob these people blind, it's exhausting to have to walk amongst them, acting as though she doesn't want to punch them all in the face. She can only take so much. She's turning towards the door when it opens, and a fashionably late newcomer arrives.
Alex, still half the room away, glances up casually at the new person and stops in her tracks, almost dropping her wineglass.
Piper. Fucking. Chapman. In the goddamn flesh. She'd spent the month since the blonde came back to town trying to avoid even reading her name in the paper... and now here she was, and seeing her felt like someone had just run a freight train straight through her chest.
She takes a step back towards the edge of the room, not taking her eyes off the blonde, who seems oblivious to her presence. The hollow feeling seems to expand with every passing moment.
And there's anger at herself for even giving a shit, anger that is only exacerbated as she stands there and watches Piper act exactly like one of these other trust fund babies; laughing too loudly at horrible jokes, drinking too much of the champagne, recounting all the notches on her bedpost no doubt, grinning as she describes another trashed hotel room.
This Piper bears no resemblance at all to the damaged, angry, beautiful, 13 year old she had stumbled across all those years ago. And as she watches, Alex begins to realize that all the time away has simply polished Piper's edges, made her into a Stepford Wife... (she even has the requisite bland, preppy blonde jocks hovering around her and bringing drinks)
Eventually, Alex can't stand it anymore. She maneuvers herself back toward the penthouse door and slips out quietly, unnoticed by any of the crowd.
…
The party is the fourth one Piper Chapman is attending that week (some going away soiree for one of her former friends... Muffy or Missy or something). She's been to at least five times that many since she returned to Gotham a month ago. She's found that they're useful in cultivating (or rather enhancing) the image that she wants for herself, carefully shaping the way she wants people to see her.
There are two versions of her and she's not sure what it says about her that she slides between them so easily. Had she grown up her father's daughter, she might have been blinded by privilege and her parents' expectations, too complacent in her comfort to see what people truly are.
As it is, however, she knows exactly what people are capable of doing to one another. And more importantly she knows that no one is ever what they seem.
She stands in the center of a group of people, smiles and nods and flirts. She talks about the parties she's attended, the people she needs to reacquaint herself with, what she's been doing for the past seven years. But even as she does so, part of her mind is distracted by the cave beneath the mansion, occupied with whether or not Claudette has gotten the gas cartridges refilled, how much pressure she can put down on the ankle Polly taped last week (as she'd expressed, once again, her doubts about what they were doing).
And it's at times like this that she realizes just how out of place amongst these people she is, how this isn't her anymore. These people won't understand what she's trying to accomplish, couldn't even begin to comprehend the reality of the streets, the corruption that is rife, infecting the city, top to bottom (and if they do, they're more likely to be concerned with profiting from it).
It isn't just that she's been gone for seven years (although in that time she's trained her body and mind in ways no one in this room could imagine). This change started years before that, started the second the mugger stepped out in front of her father. Then followed three hard years in Gotham and some time abroad. And now she wasn't anything they would've recognized... Although she recognizes what they are. Even standing here looking around she can see the signs; affairs, dirty deals; illegal highs, alcoholism, lying, concealing...
As midnight approaches, she starts to make her excuses. Drank too much last night. Feeling a little under the weather. Going to call it night...
Time to get to work.
And this woman they think they know, the tall blonde with the flashing blue eyes whose biggest issue was her outfit.
God forbid it should clash with anyone's during fashion week
Doesn't actually exist. Any possibility Piper Chapman might have had of becoming that person had disappeared when she'd vowed on her brothers grave to avenge his death.
…
Alex is still mulling over her brush with Piper Chapman the next night, after a day of fitful, broken sleep. She leans against her kitchen counter at 11:30pm, downing a bowl of some horrid children's cereal (the only food product Nicky can be bothered to purchase) scowling at the newspaper spread out in front of her. Nicky herself is on the couch in a battered t-shirt and sweatpants, mending Alex's outfit.
"VAUSE!"
The brunette looks up from the paper and settles her gaze on her friend, whose shrewd brown eyes are boring into hers. She realizes Nicky has been trying to speak to her for a while now
"Oh. Sorry, Nick. What's up?"
"Well I was gonna ask you how you managed to fuck this thing up every goddamn night," she holds up the leather, "but now I'm curious why you're glaring at that paper like it owes you money."
Alex sighs. Nicky hasn't seen her since she left for the party last night, and so has no idea about what happened. Alex really (fucking REALLY) doesn't want to talk about it, but Nicky is one of the few people she's told about what happened all those years back, though she never named names. Besides, she knows her friend is as persistent as fuck. If she doesn't tell her now, she'll never hear the end of it.
"You remember that girl?"
"'That girl'?" Nicky frowns, trying to figure it out. The initial confusion is understandable. Alex has had a lot of girls. It takes a long moment, but then Nicky snaps her fingers, "Oh, you mean the one who abandoned you when your mom was sick and broke your heart..."
Alex glares. Nicky isn't renowned for her tact. "Yeah her," she says, still glaring, "Well she's been back in town for about a month and I've been avoiding anything to do with her... but last night I actually saw her."
"Fuck."
"So I slept like shit, and then I get up and see this..." Alex holds up the society section, the one with the large picture of Piper fucking Chapman getting out of a car on her way to last night's party.
"You were in love with Piper Chapman?"
"Yeah."
"The girl who spent the past few years partying her way across Europe, fast cars, loose men and all that...? Didn't know you went for that type."
"That's not how she was when I knew her," Alex says, realizing she sounds angrier than she ought to. Really, Piper was a long time ago. It had been an interesting few years that had taught her some harsh but ultimately useful lessons. She shouldn't be upset about it. People changed. People were two-faced assholes who lived to fuck one another over. It was the way of the world. The fact that Piper was proving herself to be just like all the other trust fund gang, shouldn't be bothering her now.
Nicky shakes her head ruefully, "Straight girls..."
And all Alex can offer is a grunt at Nicky's familiar refrain. She shakes her own head once trying to clear it and flips away from the offending pages. "You almost done?"
Nicky nods, "Yeah yeah. You're a fuckin' slave driver treatin' me like I have nothing better to do"
"You don't have anything better to do," Alex says, putting her cereal bowl in the sink and walking over to the couch, "at least until Red forgives you. Again. And you're staying here rent-free. Least you can do is a little tedious busywork..."
"You're lucky I sort of half paid attention to my sewing tutor, " Nicky huffs a long suffering sigh and hands the suit to Alex. "Here ya go. Your sexy pajamas."
Alex rolls her eyes and grabs the suit, giving it a cursory inspection before she heads back to the bedroom to change
She always looks forward to her nights out, running the rooftops, free to do whatever she pleases. Even on nights she doesn't find a sucker to relieve of shiny objects, it's an amazing feeling. But tonight it'll serve another purpose.
It took Alex three years and a foolhardy amount of illegal substances to get over Piper Chapman. Alex refuses to let her rule her life again.
She'd gone to the party last night as part of a job, and she wasn't going to let three days of hard work go to waste because she was getting all fucking mopey. And why should she be upset? Piper has simply proven herself to be exactly the way Alex had initially thought.
As Fahri always said, some people were better in the abstract.
The owners of the penthouse must have had the cleaners in, because the place is pristine as she slips in. She goes straight to the safe after disabling the security and has just opened it when she catches movement out of the corner of her eye.
Her instincts kick in instantly and she twists her body to the left. She's fast, but the blow still manages to connect. Even though it just grazes her temple instead of slamming straight into her jaw, it sends her reeling.
Before she can recover entirely, whoever just threw the punch is sweeping her legs out from underneath her. She hits the ground hard and just manages to roll out of the way of a vicious elbow smash.
She's able to turn the roll into a crouch (although she's not sure how... the glancing blow from before rang her bell). She tries to get a bearing on her opponent and almost starts laughing when she realizes it's a woman, dressed head to toe in black, a large yellow bat on her chest, a cascade of black hair trailing from her cowl as she comes at Alex again
Fucking Batwoman?
She knew enough to know the Bat was for real, not some ghost story. She's been causing havoc in Kubra's territory for a month now, which was fine by Alex. But she didn't figure stopping a little minor white collar B and E would be the vigilante's deal, especially when she could be out disrupting multimillion-dollar drug deals.
Alex isn't given time to contemplate it further as she continues to defend herself against the other woman's relentless flurry of blows.
As the fight ranges through the apartment and Alex starts wondering how long it'll take the cops to get here, she can't help but admire her opponent's skill. The woman is fast and has better training. Alex however, is a dirtier fighter and obviously much more used to scrapping, using everything she can lay hands on to try to get an opening large enough. All she needs is to stun the Bat long enough to get past her...
There are sirens in the distance by the time the Bat's superior fighting skills catch up with Alex. She manages to get her pinned up against a bookcase, her forearm pressed hard against Alex's throat
The fight has taken a lot out of her. If this has happened near the beginning she might've been able to break the hold, but she's tired and has taken more than a few hits. And the Bat is applying so much pressure she's having a hard time breathing
At some point she's also managed to lose her goggles, and she's in no position to grab her backups so all she can see is a bat eared blur.
She's gasping for air and can hear the Bat doing the same.
And then suddenly the pressure on her throat lifts just slightly and she hears a voice, full of stunned surprise, "Alex?"
Fucking hell. That voice. She can't stop herself blurting, "Piper?!" even though it comes out as half a wheeze as gets her breath back.
What the everloving fuck... Piper is the goddamn Bat? Piper just fought her like a fucking demon for the past ten minutes...?
Suddenly she realizes that the Bat (Piper?!) has relaxed her grip entirely as she continues to stare. Alex has a million questions (although almost as soon as she said her name, she knows with absolute certainty that she's right, that this is Piper, despite the black hair that's almost certainly some sort of disguise) but the sirens are much closer now and she has no interest in going back to jail.
She can assuage her curiosity later. For now she takes advantage of Piper's shock and brings her knee up hard, catching he in the solar plexus. The blonde is obviously wearing some sort of body armor but it can't stop the blow from being a shock and she goes stumbling back just far enough that Alex can elbow her in the head (maybe the first solid blow she's landed) and dash hard for the sliding glass door she came in.
She's managed to get her backup goggles out of her belt by that time and dives headlong off the penthouse balcony, not taking the time to consider the physics of the situation as much as she might normally, given she has no idea how long it'll take the Bat to recover. Her primary goal is to get outside...
The rain has intensified since she went to the penthouse and it pelts her face, cold and relentless, as she free falls from forty stories up. Half blindly she thrusts her arm toward the building opposite and hits the trigger on her grapple, hoping it won't tear her arm out of its socket.
It sure as shit doesn't feel good, but as she grimaces at the pain, she can at least be grateful that she's not currently sidewalk art. She reels herself up to the roof, grimacing every time her shoulder is jarred.
By the time she has her feet under her again she feels like she wants to throw up or pass out, but she shakes it off. She has to get the fuck out of here...
Scowling at the throbbing in her shoulder, she starts to run for the opposite edge of the roof... but before she can get three steps, the Bat (PIPER?!) comes out of nowhere, slamming into her and knocking her off her feet. Alex looks up at her and frowns...
"Well, fuck..."
…
It's well past midnight as she stands shivering in the phone booth, hurriedly tapping the memorized phone number for Friendly's into the keypad. Sue answers. She tells her Diane is out back, sorting the trash, does she want to leave a message? Alex pauses, deciding on a suitable excuse, "Can you tell her I'm at Nicky's? We sorta lost track of time watching a movie and her mom said it's ok for me to stay over".
"Mm hmm" she replies. Alex is sure she's heard it all before from her own kids. "I'll let her know". Alex hangs up before she's required to divulge anything more incriminating.
The truth is she's not staying at Nicky's, she never is when she's up all night; she prefers to prowl the city, alone. Hiding amongst the shadows, observing the underbelly of Gotham as they come out to play and in a strange sort of way, it's here that she feels she belongs the most.
It had started back when she needed to earn some "loose change" as Fahri had put it. Innocuous jobs, the odd delivery here and there, a glorified runner of sorts. He'd caught her and Nicky trying to hustle some guys over a game of pool in some dive bar one night, in a part of town that her mother wouldn't have approved of. But this was Nicky's patch and she never felt unsafe…well not unsafe enough to keep away in any case.
He'd been watching them for awhile, long enough at least for Alex to begin getting twitchy, long enough for her to nudge Nicky and ask her what the fuck he was doing, if he was the Feds. Nicky had simply chuckled, "believe me Vause, the Feds, the ones that aren't dirty as fuck anyway, have got much bigger fish to fry, cause in case you haven't noticed, Gotham is sick, it's heart is as black as coal and there's no antidote in sight, so a couple of under-aged drinkers? They won't even be on the radar".
It was hard to argue with this, but the man still unnerved her, until eventually, having beaten their two burly opponents three times in a row (double or nothing gentlemen, how's about it?) the men had begun to get a little antsy. "Fair's fair" Nicky had tried to reason as she attempted to snatch up the dollar bills they had placed on the table (to the victor the spoils, she'd grinned, before the smaller of the two men had slammed his hand down, hard,on the notes). Alex's eyes had flicked to Nicky's, as her friends usual composure threatened to slip.
She remembers a vague sort of scuffle, the glint of something silvery and dangerous in the dirty light cast by the overhead lamps and before she knows what she's doing, she's slamming a pool cue over the man's head. The groan is guttural, as he lurches forward, hands grappling for traction, but instead finding nothing but empty space. And the next thing she remembers, she and Nicky have burst through the exit door, bolting down the street, not stopping until they're chests feel tight and they're gasping for more oxygen than their lungs can presently supply,
"Fuck me Vause," Nicky says, leaning in the doorway of a derelict 7-Eleven, when they feel like they're far enough away to be safe, "you could have told me you were gonna go all ghetto up in there..."
"You wanted to have a discussion about tactics? Or did you want me to save your fucking ass, cause from where I'm standing, you owe me…..you owe me fucking big," Alex snaps, waiting for the pain in her side to abate.
Nicky grins, her breathing now regulated, "Well, how's about this for a starter?" she says, pulling out a fistful of dollar bills from the pocket of her jeans.
And Alex can't quite hide her delight, "You managed to grab the cash in the get away?"
Nicky laughs, "Of course….if a job's worth doing…"
…
She's looking for a leather jacket the next day, eager to spend her winnings before Diane finds the cash lying around. There's one she's had her eye on for a little while, black, a little battered, but the leather is buttery soft and as soon as she feels it between her fingertips, she knows she has to make it hers.
"You've got good taste"
She spins around and comes face to face with the man she'd mistaken for a Fed from the night before. Her mouth immediately feels dry. What if Nicky was wrong? But there's something about the sparkle to his eyes and the languid ease with which he's leaning against the clothes rail, that makes her think her friend was right.
"Um..thanks" she replies, diverting her eyes back to the jacket in her hand.
"I saw you last night…I was impressed…." he continues.
"Impressed?"
"Yes," he laughs.
"With?"
"With your quick thinking, your speed….your courage…."
Alex shakes her head, "I just got lucky I guess."
Lie.
She's been used to scrapping all her life. Being raised on state assistance meant she had to develop a thick skin, a quick fist and deft agility. These days (well the ones she could bother to make it to school at least) no one messed with her. No one interacted with her period in fact, but that suited her just fine. Alone was how she felt most comfortable... well, aside from some occasional time with Nichols that was.
He chuckles again, but this time more fondly, like a beloved uncle might. It irritates her slightly, because all she really wants to do is buy the jacket, get the fuck out of here and make her way to Red's to meet Nicky. But something is telling her he won't let her off that lightly. And she's not wrong.
He tells her his name is Fahri, offers her a job, says he could use more people like her. The money will be "enough" to begin with, with the potential for plenty more. Alex is damn sure that "enough" will be more than she's ever been used to in her whole life. He gives her an address downtown, tells her to meet him tomorrow at 10am "bring your friend too, if you like" he says, as he departs through the door, the bell reverberating around the store as he does so.
And so it begins.
…
That was over a year ago and now at fourteen, she feels like night is what she likes best, hidden under its veil as the city reveals its true self to her. But she's not dumb, she knows where to avoid and where she'll always be welcome. Where Red's territory begins and where Fahri's ends.
And never the twain shall meet.
Nichols had initially found it hilarious that they were effectively working for rival bosses, "It's like a modern day Romeo and Juliet," she'd laughed, "except bleaker and without the flowery words." Alex had rolled her eyes, but somehow, there developed an unspoken agreement between the pair of them, one that meant neither discussed their respective work and it had remained that way ever since.
…
The night is colder than Alex has envisaged and her thin rain jacket is affording little comfort as she strides towards Gotham library. These are her favorite nights, sneaking in after hours, no alarm to trouble her, after all, the criminals of Gotham are only concerned with things they can shift for cold hard cash and plenty of it.
And amongst the dusty confines, she can lose herself for a few hours, become submerged in the yellowing leaf of Tolstoy, be transported to the exotic lands of Kipling, be anywhere but here.
She's almost reached the imposing gothic building when she hears a squabble across the street. She knows better than to get involved in someone else's business, in Gotham, you keep yourself to yourself and you stay alive. But she catches sight of one of the participants in the dim glow of a street lamp, a blonde girl, around her own age. Her eyes flick to the man with whom she's arguing, he's dressed in a suit trying to bat her away. "I said, no, I'm not buying you any cigarettes, now fuck off you little bitch," he spits. Alex stops in her tracks, she can feel herself bristle at his words and to her surprise the girl lunges straight for his throat, fingers clasped tightly around it.
"Lemme fucking go you little whore" the man wheezes. He raises a hand, it connects roughly with the side of the girl's head, hard enough contact that it sends her spiraling backwards, so she lands on floor with a thud, sprawled on her back. And in spite of her better judgment, Alex finds herself jogging over to make sure she's ok.
By the time she reaches her, she's already back on her feet, running towards the man, whose back is now to her, making his way back down the street. She races past Alex and leaps onto to him, an enforced piggy back and although he struggles a little longer, the net result is the same, as the girl ends up back on the sidewalk in a crumpled heap.
The man spins round, fixes his gaze on Alex, "You know this little bitch?" he says, lips pulled into a grimace.
"Um..."
"Because if she comes at me one time," he pulls his jacket back, reveals a holster and a gun. Alex swallows hard.
"She won't" Alex replies hurriedly. The man shakes his head, mumbles another string of profanities and disappears down an alley.
Alex sighs deeply at the near miss, turns around to see if the girl is ok, but there's empty space where she was mere seconds ago, no doubt lost to the inky devil's hour shadows. She's almost given up, ready to retreat to the library, when her eye catches something shiny and plastic on the ground, where the blonde had been sprawled. She snatches up the item and flips it over in her fingers. Piper Chapman the fake ID reads (Alex has seen enough to spot them a mile away, even one this well made). She repeats the name, she likes the way it sounds, although she has no idea why.
And suddenly, she's too restless for the library.
...
A/N- Please fave/follow/review if you're so inclined...
Also, just wanted to say thanks to NightsLightss, with whom I discussed the Batman AU about a million years ago.