Chapter Three: Love Thy Neighbour


When Bruce woke late the next morning, he woke with a throbbing headache and a sharp, extremely painful twinge in his side. He ripped the blankets away from his body and sat up, immediately regretting the decision as his head spun. Steadying himself and waiting for the dizziness to subside the billionaire looked down at his bandages, touching at the red liquid seeping through to find it was fresh and very, very wet. He swore, somehow in his sleep he had torn his stitches. From past experience he knew how to fix himself up himself but as Alfred constantly told him, he made a bloody mess of things. As Bruce stood up he spotted a small handwritten note on the bedside table and picked it up. The paper was crumpled but the handwriting neat and cursive and it took three times (thanks to his headache) to actually process what the note was telling him.

'I'll have left for Gotham General by the time you wake up, so make yourself comfortable and help yourself to food and drink. I'll catch a taxi to your home after I finish classes and I'll speak with your friend. Try not to move around too much, I don't want you tearing your stitches. If you need it for whatever reason, my medical kit is on the desk. Please stay inside and stay safe.

Yours truly, Claire Harding'

Bruce blinked at the note and then placed it back on the table, noticing that she'd set out a rather large pullover hoody. After hobbling over to the desk and removing his soaking bandages, the man quickly and carefully cut away the old stitches, and replaced them with new ones. When he had finished he frowned at his work. If he thought that his father being a doctor would have helped him at all, he was dead wrong. The stitches were messy, but they would do. Quickly wrapping himself up again, Bruce grabbed the pullover and wriggled into it, checking his wound and stretching his legs and torso in the most non-disruptive way he could manage as his eyes found the photo of Claire's family on her desk again. He was glad that his work as Batman had put away her parent's murderer, part of him wanted to know what had happened. The news article didn't say much, only that they had been gunned down in an assumed robbery, but that the gunman had strong connections with the Irish mob that was why he hadn't been convicted originally. The Irish mob hadn't given Gotham too much trouble in years, since the same year Claire's parents were murdered actually, but they were getting bolder in more recent months, ever since the Batman had taken out a large number of their mercenaries. Bruce's eyebrows creased and he removed his eyes from the photo and walked towards the door in search of food. He didn't remember much about the rest of Claire's apartment since all he had really seen was her bedroom, but he remembered it being small and dingy.

Exiting her room, Bruce found himself in a small living area, two rough looking brown sofas made an 'L' shape and a cabinet where an old T.V. sat made up the room, with the front door next to the television and the balcony doors on the opposite side of the room. Directly across from where he stood, was a small open kitchen, a tiny dinning room table with three chairs in the space, and a bar like counter window next to the doorway. Bruce had never seen an apartment quite so small before, he guessed his bedroom at the manor would be twice the size of the whole house, but he could tell Claire took pride in the space; it was clean and tidy for what it was it just looked very old. It took him four steps to reach the kitchen and even though Claire had told him to help himself to whatever food he could find, he opted for an apple sitting in the small fruit bowl on the table. He knew the area her apartment was in, and he knew he shouldn't judge a book by its cover but he surmised based on what he could see that Claire Harding was rather poor. He didn't want to impose too much on her and savored his apple, staring around the kitchen, spotting something odd in on of the cupboards.

Bruce ran his fingers over a small hole in a shelf cupboard and furrowed his brow. He knew that sight anywhere and was rather confused as to why Claire had a bullet hole in her kitchen cupboard. Bruce was thinking on the possibilities when a loud banging (he refused to call it knocking) sounded on the apartment door. When he didn't answer it immediately a harsh male voice sounded through the wood.

"Harding, the damn mail man gave me your fucking mail again! I told you to fix it! If I get your shit one more time, I'm going to fucking open it!" The man shouted angrily and continued to bang on the door. Bruce moved quickly despite his wounds and headache, the mans incessant yelling and banging getting on his nerves more and more by the second, not to mention the fact that it would be Claire the man was yelling at if he wasn't there in her place. He didn't take kindly to the thought of the man threatening her. It didn't sound like this was the first time either. Swiftly he opened he door as the man was about to pound on it again, and stood with his arms crossed over his chest and a glare fixated on the short, portly man.

"Who're you?" He asked rudely, returning Bruce's glare and the younger man stood his ground. "I'm a friend of Claire's. She's not here right now. Can I help you?" He asked just as rudely, pretty much every lessons in manners Alfred had ever given him flying out the window, but he doubted the man would speak so crassly to him. The older man shoved a stack a mail towards Bruce who snatched it from him roughly. "Tell that girl if she doesn't sort this out immediately, I'll alert the superintendent. Finally give him reason he's been lookin' for to throw her ass out on the street." He said with a sneer, looking Bruce up and down, wondering where he'd seen the much better looking man before. Bruce raised an eyebrow and his voice lowered dangerously.

"Is that a threat?" he asked darkly, the urge to just deck the man rising every time he opened his mouth. The man glared even harsher at him. "Damn right it is! That bitch is nothing but trouble! At all hours of the morning those damn gang members come lookin' for her! She brings in all sort of dirt!" The man took a step back as the door behind him opened and a young African American man stepped out, his glare just as harsh as Bruce's. He was tall with an athletic build and cheek bones you could cut yourself on.

"You not givin' Miss Claire trouble again are you Collins?" He asked in a deep baritone. The portly man, Collin's looked between the newcomer and Bruce before stepping back down the hall again. "Just tell her my message." He sneered at Bruce before walking away, entering his apartment quickly. The young man shook his head and unclenched his fists.

"That bastard and the Super. have had it out for Miss Claire the day she moved in here." He said. Bruce looked towards him with a nod. "I'm glad she has someone to look out for her." The two men regarded each other before the younger male held his hand out and the two shook.

"Casey Fallon." Casey told him with a small smile which Bruce returned.

"Bruce Wayne." He said instinctively, and regretted it as recognition lit up Casey's face. "Well shit. What're you doing down here in the Narrows? Claire sure has some strange friends…" He said with the shake of his head and Bruce simply smiled at him. "I keep hearing that. That man, Collins said something about gang members looking for her. What's that about?" He asked unable to contain his curiosity, but also wanting to know if he or Claire was in any immediate danger. Casey paled a bit and looked down either side of the hall. "I'm not sure if I should say, but I guess if there's anyone who could help a sister out, it'd be you, right Mr. Wayne?" Casey asked rhetorically. "You have no idea..." Bruce thought to himself with a smirk as Casey led him back inside Claire's apartment, closing the door behind him and telling him to take a seat on the couch. Bruce obeyed and sat down as carefully as he could without upsetting his wounds.

"You see it all started when her parent's moved out here from Ireland…"


A/N: Chapter Three Yoooo! Thanks for reading!

love you all! xx 3 R&R