III.

His cries are frantic, and as she clings to his shoulder, he can feel the warm and sticky crimson liquid dampen his clothing. He screams again for Alfred, his voice cracking under the stress of fear which seems to have him in a chokehold.

The ride to Wayne Manor had been terrifying. He had barely gotten her out of there, and it was safe to say that a hefty bloodstain would be present on the passenger seat of the Tumbler. The whole time, his eyes had been glued to his friend. Curses and apologies spilled from her lips, but as the blood seemed to drain from her system, so did her spirit.

Now, he lays her down on the sofa, and she's coughing. Blood, spit, and tears are all John sees, and he tries to ease the pain with soothing words.

Alfred's footsteps enter John's hearing and part of him slows down, but once his gaze shifts back to his friend, laying in a bloodied heap, he has to begin to fight the tears which are pricking at his eyes.

"Good God..." is all Alfred says before he rushes to her aid.

John's got her hand squeezed tightly to his chest. He whispering things, gentle things, hoping to calm the thrashing and screaming of his partner. Alfred is stopping the bleeding, but her eyes are frantic. She's shaking and whimpering, crying out in pain when too much pressure is applied to the wrong area.

"F-Fuck."

"Not very lady like, Kayleigh."

"S-Shut up, Meter M-Maid."

roughly one year prior:

Kaleigh had woken up far too early, not gotten a warm shower, forgot her favourite sweater at the laundromat next door and neglected the bread in toaster, resulting in a burnt breakfast—all in the same morning.

Suffice to say, the blonde was already pretty frazzled when her hair drier shorted out thanks to a wet countertop. But, when her phone dinged with a reminder about the Monday meeting with Mr. Bruce Wayne, she felt her heart sink and her mind race. 'I am such a damn idiot... How could I have forgotten about that... 8 years and for what?'

The weekend had edged by and Kayleigh hadn't even stopped thinking about Monday. But, now that the day was here, she found herself panicking. All weekend she had been contemplating the meeting. Of course, it would mean no progress if she walked in and told the billionaire she knew about his secret.

Kayleigh had to wonder why she was bringing this to his attention.

She finally realized why when she stepped out to pick up some Chinese food from the Grand Buffet down the block.

There was a woman surrounded by three burly looking men. The newly dampened sidewalk yielded to their feet as they chased her down the barren stretch, shouting obscenities and hurling gestures. The woman tripped and fell. Kayleigh turned away.

That's when it struck her.

She was tired of running from the crime.

All her life, she had been well off. Loving parents, a nice home, lots of money and enough food for the month. She was a happy kid, always smiling. She grew up, attended a nice school and now worked in a nice building. There had always been something else Kayleigh wanted, and for many years of her life, the thought of becoming a cop crossed her frontal lobe.

Paths changed and she abandoned that idea.

Yet, she longed for justice. For the good people to be treated well and for the bad to be punished. Scowling, she hated herself for the cliche-ness of it all.

Forgetting about chinese food, she hurried home and jotted down some things, only before beginning the a new resume. If Kayleigh didn't lose her job after this, she swore she would never take those damn wheelie chairs in the office for granted again.

Ten minutes and she was ready. Thrown together, but ready all the same.

With a cigarette hanging from the corner of her painted lips, Kayleigh blanched when she spotted her car. She almost dropped her travel mug of warm coffee when she spotted the gaudy orange wheel lock clinging to the rubber tires of her car Spinning in disbelief, she let out a sarcastic laugh.

"For fuck's sake."

The blonde scowled and slammed her leather purse onto the hood of the black Camry. Snatching the piss yellow ticket off of her windshield, she growled. Throwing her hands into the air, she took a drag from her cigarette. Two fingers flew up to massage her temple as she placed her coffee down and sighed. This was the fifth time this month. Her parking was fine. She had even checked with the apartment's landlord. "Just my fuckin' luck. God damn it."

But, no— Blue-blood had the balls to finally follow up on his warnings.

The time stamp on the upper right hand corner—marked for 12:13—made her do a double take at the gold watch on her wrist. Kayleigh squinted, letting her emerald eyes trail up and down the busy Gotham sidewalk. Spotting a man in navy blue, she felt her lips curl upwards.

It was that fuckface again.

"Hey! Officer Blake!" Kayleigh shouted, her heels clicking loudly as she stormed after the officer. His name was like venom rolling off her tongue. In one fluid movement, her cigarette was stuck into her mouth, leaving the end of the Marlboro kissed a sharp red—the same red as her lips.

The officer, head ducked down as he maneuvered back to his cruiser, ignored her calls for him. His brown eyes were trained on the pavement ahead of him, but when the woman cried out once more, he felt his eye twitch. The blonde finally caught up, and irritation was evident in his voice.

"Well, if it isn't Ms. Lockheed," his response was low and sharp. His back, still turned, signified that the officer wanted no quarrel. But Kayleigh snarled, catching up to him in three long strides, "Here I was wishing I wouldn't have to actually talk to you. Or deal with you. Ever again."

"Shut up and get the wheel lock off of my car, Meter Maid."

"If you call me that one more time, I will put you in cuffs—"

"Yeah, yeah. I know you've got a thing for the kinky stuff, Officer," she waved him off, blowing smoke into the man's face. "Get it off my car. And take your damn ticket back. We've been over this before."

John's nose curled and he moved out of the nicotine laced cloud of smoke that was blown his way. Catching the crumpled yellow paper as it was thrown at him, John shook his head.

"For the last time, Ms. Lockheed, your car is parked in the fire lane. That spot is needed to be clear, no matter what your landlord says."

"What do you mean 'no matter what my landlord says'? He's my landlord!"

"Is your landlord a firefighter?"

"No—"

"Then keep your ticket, Ms. Lockheed."

Grumbling, the blonde tossed her cigarette to the ground. Glaring at the piece of paper, her head shot up. "I have a twenty in my purse."

"Ms. Lockheed, I will not take bribes."

"God damn it, out of all the cops in Gotham, I have to deal with you on a weekly basis."

"It was twice last week, Ms. Lockheed."

"Oh, shut up Lone Ranger," she sighed, turning and placing both hands on her hips. Glancing at her watch quickly, despair fell across her features and she stomped her heeled foot. "I cannot fucking believe this."

"You're going to have to put the big girl pants on and get over is, Ms. Lockheed."

"Do you have any idea how long I have waited for this appointment, officer? Years. Finally, the Bruce Wayne is back. Finally, I get to sit down with him. And now, because of your need to be the bestest cop in the city, I'm completely and utterly fucked," she screeched, waving her hands in his face. "So, no. I will not put the big girl pants on, Officer Blake."

Silence fell between the two of them, and Kayleigh's head fell into her hands.

"... You said Bruce Wayne?"

"No, Martha Stewart," she retorted, "—Of course I said Bruce Wayne. He's the only rich kid in this city worth mentioning."

Officer Blake shot her a demeaning glare before straightening his shoulders. "Get in the cruiser."

"What, you're arresting me now?"

"No. I'm taking you to Bruce," John said. Kayleigh paled. And John continued onwards towards the cruiser.

"Why?"

"He doesn't do appointments, so you've gotta know something pretty damn important for him to pencil you in."

A/N: Here's to hoping you guys liked their interactions in this chapter! Anyways, I hope the layout of this story isn't too confusing. The beginning portion, before the time stamp, is a snippet of a crucial moment in John and Kayleigh's relationship. From the time stamp on, it's the story of Kayleigh and John and Bruce and all that jazz.

So, yeah.

Tenses are my worst enemies.

-Hope