TellTale Bats
Who Are You? -Svrcina
Love Is Madness- Thirty seconds to Mars feat. Hasley
One of her trackers had been found but the rest were still functioning, by some unheard of streak of luck, she would no doubt pay for in some way later. Lady Luck was no friend to Brooklyn Wayne and anything good that happened was frequently followed by disaster. Twice, things had gone off perfectly so she was waiting for the inevitable moment when it all crumbled under her feet to let her plummets a few thousand stories.
Alfred was watching and cataloging every turn and stop light every single vehicle made with absolute dedication, she knew he was. The detailed locations of their every move would be given to the GCPD the moment the mission at the spa concluded, she would not be handing them to Waller; even if Gordon was gone she doubted he would be far removed from the situation so long as the officers loyal to him were in on the case. It made her feel slightly more at ease even as she found herself sitting in one of those vehicles. The sick tingle at the back of her throat refused to go away but there was nothing for it but to ignore it. Waiting for a bomb to go off was not her idea of a pleasant way to spend her time, but wait she must.
With Catwoman gone she had no definite help on the inside even if she thought John would be mostly on her side. He had been more than helpful but she could not say with certainty what would happen if he faced the choice to defend her or follow Harley. That nagging thought was probably contributing to the ill feeling in her gut. She did not fault him for the potential, she did understand his loyalty. The heart was a terrible thing, she was learning. It picked what it desired without logic or reason and it was an inexplicably strong driving force.
Brooke licked her dry lips, suddenly wishing she had something to put on them, partly just to give her something to do.
It felt like there was too much sound, inhibiting her ability to focus on any one aspect of it, bombarded by so much stimulus that rendered it all useless. She could feel it, whatever it was she was meant to hold onto, slipping from her grasp. The situation was about to spin out of her control very fast indeed when a host of unpredictable variables clashed with her known set of volatile variables. She was not at all sure she could contain the chemical reaction that combination was bound to have. The weight of that understanding, of knowing she was holding not one, but multiple bombs in her hands and the surety that she was more than likely not going to be able to defuse all of them... it terrified her.
She knew one thing with absolute certainty, she could not let them get away with the virus. Something that dangerous could not be allowed onto her streets. If she did nothing else, or if it was literally the last thing she did, she had to keep the virus from hurting the city. A very odd and strange part of her wondered what Waller would tell people if she died. Would she die a criminal to the world or would she be hailed as a spy in the Pact? Well, she knew what was most likely considering Waller was not overly charitable. Gordon would probably be rather smug.
She closed her eyes to that thought, to the thought of his expression. What would they spin as the story of Batwoman's death? Would that actually be how her identity was revealed? And wouldn't that be the hight of irony? After all, she agreed to this mission to keep her identity secret. Ah, irony and her cruel sting! It was nearly enough to make Brooke laugh.
"Want to some gum?" John held a container under her nose and she caught an instant whiff of peppermint.
"Oh," she pulled her head up enough to get her face out of the direct proximity of the package, "sure, thanks."
"It helps," he told her when he shook a piece into her waiting palm, "calms the nerves a little."
"I could definitely use that." She admitted before she caught herself.
John looped an arm around her, "Hey, no worries, buddy! It's all going to be fine! Stick with me and we'll get there!" He tightened his hold on her, "It's worked so far so I'd say it's a sign! As long as we're together, everything will go smoothe! We're a great team!"
Brooke, inexplicably, felt the muscles in her shoulders simply drop their coil, like his confidence untied a knot in her she had not realized needed work, "We are a great team." She found herself leaning into their contact.
After a quiet moment, for reasons unbeknownst to her, she made another confession, quiet and timid; "I think I'm afraid again."
John's arm around her tightened, "Don't be."
She was not afraid of death, not even at the hands of these kinds of people. It was the fallout she feared. It was how they all came out the other side of the mission she worried about. Those people she was with were not her friends but it did not change the fact that part of her did want to protect them as well. Being undercover made her see them as people rather than monsters; people she had to stop, but still people. She dreaded what might happen to them once she stopped them, though not nearly as much as she dreaded what could happen if she failed to stop them. Their individual reasons were unknown but she could hardly expect criminals to be after anything altruistic in regards to deadly biological weapons.
This was a war on the end, whether she wanted it to be or not.
Things could turn catastrophic rather swiftly. It was Gotham she feared for most. But then there was the man beside her. Her fear for his fate was almost equal to that of her fear for an entire city. Who could say what that meant?
"I wish I could turn it off." She was never this honest with anyone, never admitting to a weakness without a fight.
"I'll be right beside you! We all will!" How could he know that was part of the issue? He was trying, at least, to comfort her, "What are you worried about anyway? You're the Brooklyn Wayne! You couldn't mess up if you tried!" John believed in her too intensely, almost with fanaticism.
Regardless, she found herself chuckling without any bitterness, "Tell that to my long list of mistakes and failures."
"You don't have any," John whispered fondly, nudging her temple with the tip of his nose.
"You have no idea how much I wish reality lined up with your perception of me... but then, you know I've got flaws, you've seen me in my less than flattering moments. You shouldn't flatter me like that or I might start to believe you."
"You were beautiful, even in Arkham." He whispered it right in her ear and made her shiver.
"I doubt that, but thank you." She offered a reluctant, perhaps even shy smile, something John seemed to like getting from her.
Green eyes brightened just that much farther, but he seemed somehow more intent, "You just don't see what other people see. You're... intense, driven, dangerous even, but... there's this goodness in you that overshadows everything else. You're like a tiger; powerful, majestic, deadly, but you've chosen not to bite into the visitors at the zoo. You could kill them, you could kill anyone that came into your space, but you haven't. I think that's what draws people to you. You're wild, unpredictable, but you've got more heart than most people. It's a fire, hot and bright in you."
Brooke literally had no idea what to say nor exactly how to take his estimation of her, not even if it was good or bad. Something else struck her from left field. If she was afraid of this falling apart, was he? Things going badly on this job could mean terrible things for him and he must have seen that. There was nothing clueless about that man. Was he putting up a front for her? He was comforting her to the very best of his ability, but who was going to comfort him?
"Aren't you afraid, John?"
He blinked, taken back by her question, but something flickered behind his eyes, "Well... I..."
The vehicle lurched to a sudden stop, jostling all occupants. Bane jumped down from the cab and into their cargo section. The mask did not hide his rather dubious expression as he cocked his head at them.
"If you two are quite finished with the displays of mutual pining," Bane made a motion for them to separate, "I do believe Harley wants Wayne out there with her."
When the hulking figure threw open the door there was little to do but jump down behind him and face what was being set out before them. It was time to face the end. Looking over Bane's shoulder at the Spa, she could already feel the end edging closer.
The wind swirled around her, tugging insistently on her hair, seeking to free it from the confines of the hair tie. John was a close, grinning shadow at her side the way he was most times, following right at her heels. All was dark and quiet in Gotham, hardly the sight of the crescent moon to offer even remote light. She was well accustomed to the darkness, however, made it her home out of necessity. She could navigate within it as well as most people could in daylight, and it did nothing to hide the oncoming figures from her. The others were edging closer from their own arrival points, gathering in a huddle like some sort of sports team before a play.
The air was biting cold but not enough to freeze yet, at least not under normal conditions. Freeze had a bit of an unfair advantage on the normal weather patterns.
Harley motioned Brooke closer, "We'll go in first, see what we can see." There was a playfulness to the way the other woman nudged her ahead, "Show me what you've got, rich girl!"
"We've just gotta take out one itty bitty guard, then we can get the rest of the gang inside," Harley told her before tossing the for open.
It was surreal how utterly normal the inside looked. It could have been any normal spa. No wonder the public never suspected anything.
When she switched on her contacts, it only took a moment to examine the room and find something of great interest, enough interest that she almost missed Harley's murderous comment; "Time to paint this place red, Brookie!"
"You catch more flies with honey." Brooke waved a dismissive hand, "Why don't you let me work my charms since you brought me along anyway, huh?" She smiled coyly and it dampened Harley's annoyed glare somewhat.
Harley believed her, she trusted her. A piece of Brooke felt the hot sting of guilt for that but she could not afford it. Harley made them enemies by her own choices and there was nothing to be done about that besides stopping whatever plans the woman might try to put into play. This was not about betrayal, it was about defending Gotham.
They made rather quick work of the Bodhi Spa top level while she circumvented what bloodshed she could. She had a feeling things could have been far more bloody had she not been around. Even if Harley glared at her softer methods, even if they honestly weren't all that soft, the other woman did seem to nearly respect her for it. Even if she had been able to scout the location beforehand she doubted she would have found her information any faster. The lenses were incredibly helpful. Taking out the security was easy and took nothing more than a little hacking from Lucious' programs, which she decidedly avoided thinking about. She could have found the secret door without her lenses though. There was only one door with any real security on it and a larger than life lotus frosted on the glass door. They really weren't being subtle. Another of Lucious' programs took care of that door in seconds. Riddler's eyes got them past the next hurdle.
John was like an excited teenager, oblivious to the dangers, high off the thrill. It should have disturbed her but it only really worried her for his sheer lack of comprehension of the danger. He did not seem bothered by their task, the nature of it, the danger involved, or the fallout if they failed. He was no fool and she knew he understood the danger, he just did not seem to hold it in regard. For that reason, she found herself hyperaware of his proximity to any threat at all times because if he would not look after himself, she would.
To some degree she envied him his ability to throw his worries to the wind, she did not even understand how he could. It was quite the quality, at least. It made him something of a bright beacon and she noticed the others seemed to feel it too. People did not give him enough credit for his oneliner comedic relief though. Under other conditions, she might have at least cracked a smile for his little talent to lighten a mood.
The picture reminded her in something of a fatalistic way that things were not going to last long. Looking at them all on the screen was like looking at the picture of her parents hanging over the fireplace. Soon, if she ever saw that phono again, all it would be was a bitter reminder. Or of course, evidence at her trial if Gordon had his way.
Part of her still hated what she was about to lose because, in a twisted sort of way, she had enjoyed some of her time with the Pact. Bits and pieces had been fun, though not many. She had not been a part of a united faction, a group with the cohesion of goals, in quite some time, not since her family connections to the cities crime were revealed. To an extent, she had missed the connection a cause brought out in people.
She would not miss the lies or the carnage but she knew she would feel something when that tentative, fragile bond shattered. There was a sense of comradery she knew she would miss even if it had always been fabricated. It was a strange sort of sentimentality to feel.
She hated what they did, hated what they stood for, but she could not fully hate them. She was closer to hating Bane than she was Harley, but they were people, in the end, motivated by their own personal reasons. Freeze had talked more on this trip than he had in a single span of time since she met him, and his motivation was likely the purest of all. She hated his actions but she had no room in her heart to hate his desire to see the woman he loved again. Had things been different she would be offering him Wayne technology and assistance rather than a future in a cage.
But this was war.
She had been in wars before. War always carried a cost, often a price she did not want to pay. The price was always so high, a piece of her soul, of what was left of her heart. No doubt John was to be her next cost, and in some ways, the rest of them as well.
Her war on crime drove the point home, the cruel nature of war, by carving away what she loved. It demonstrated without mercy that no matter how hard she might fight, she couldn't save everyone.
Harvey never spoke to her when she went to see him on occasion. He had never said a single word to her and she carried on an entire conversation with him all the same. She let him in on gossip, told him the random news, and she kept it upbeat. The most she got out of him was the occasional smirk or huff that proved he actually was listening.
When she visited Oz it was different. She almost never got the chance to say a word to him. He yelled, there was no real talking that went on. He yelled and shook the bars, and Brooke let him say anything he liked. She took his venom with as much grace as Alfred always taught her to because she knew he needed it. She was willing to weather his storms until he was finally rid of all that toxicity and maybe, one day, he would actually talk to her.
She wondered where John would fall. Between the two? Would he refuse to speak to her or would he scream, raining his anger down on her the way he once showered her with praise? She honestly did not have any desire to find out.
She would probably deserve whatever came her way. Not that she could afford to dwell on that now.
Brooke kept a mental tally of the lives she managed to save thus far. It was only up to two considering she was fairly sure the man at the front desk was dead considering how hard Harley hit him, but keeping a list was something to hold her focus, keep her sane. She needed something to hold onto and she had to take what she could find or allow everything else to eat her alive. She was rather skilled at holding focus.
John cocked his head to one side, staring very intently at her when she stood up from her task of restraining the worker. "You were right."
She pursed her lips and pivoted toward him on her knees, "About what?"
"I am afraid." He admitted quietly, "I keep thinking that this virus was the thing holding us all together. It's what made us stick." He shrugged helplessly and shook his head, "I-I don't know, call me paranoid, but I'm worried once it's gone Harley's gonna, just gonna-just disappeared. I just don't think I could take that kind of rejection. You know, when you invest so much into something it practically becomes who you are."
Her mind flashed back to the mask, to the cave, to the years spent in dedication to her nightlife. She did understand and she understood the fear of having it taken away. John did not have a life outside the Pact, not even a fake one, so it had to be far more terrifying a prospect for him. He had nothing without those people, which was largely her fault. Had she just kept tabs on him, looked into him and found out he had been released he very likely never would have been in the group at all. Yet another mark to add to the failure list.
She took her chance, unsure if it was right or wrong, but knowing she had to try, "Have you thought about sabotaging her plan?"
He looked suddenly brighter, hopeful, "I have, but- I wouldn't even know where to start." The hope was doused only to rekindle, "I've got an idea. What if you help me do it? You're a smart gal, after all."
She nodded, locking eyes with him, "Alright, I'm in. I'll think of something."
"I knew I could count on you, Brooke!" He looked so pleased, so trusting, "We're together, through thick and thin."
She held his eyes, willing him to understand her, "I'll do anything I can to help you, John, remember that."
John nodded, a huge, confident grin on his face, "C'mon buddy, we don't want to get left behind!"
She hoped that was a good thing rather than the beginning of the end. She could always refer back to this moment and try very hard to get him to see that she had been serious, even if she had been misleading. He might be less than enthused, either way, she hoped she could hold herself to that promise when he inevitably needed her help.
She nudged John with her shoulder as they made to catch up with the group and his smile was blinding like he really thought she could fix everything. He didn't know her well enough yet, she thought morbidly.
Looking out over the damage, the broken playground of mass destruction, it hardly seemed real. It looked like a technological death valley and she hated it. The sterile contamination, ammonia and chemicals, it made her stomach turn. She wished Sanctus had never made their playground in her city and she loathed that she never even spotted them while they had been right under her nose. Batwoman and Brooklyn Wayne had been failing the city and they had done so yet again.
She did not feel like a hero these days, or even what she grew up believing a Wayne was. People always assumed she was a "powderpuff rich girl" that would knuckle under easily if they but applied a little pressure. They did not know her at all. She had other masks, the trouble was, those masks were supposed to be better, they were not supposed to make mistakes or slip. When she slipped, she was that much closer to the true Wayne legacy of destruction for the city. It was true what Selina called them both; "unfeeling monsters hiding in the basement."
She knew that, knew what she was when she stood there, observing the carnage she unleashed. Perhaps being a hero was just a razor edge away from being a monster. She always knew that but the potential drop had never seemed closer than it did when she went undercover, and it just kept edging ever closer with each day. From the first day she pulled on a mask, she knew she could not allow herself to fall over that edge. The rules she placed on herself were to stop her from that sharp plummet. Rules existed to keep her from becoming a monster and she held onto them for dear life, because she always knew what she had the potential to become long before she knew the bent for horrible cruelty was in her blood.
Shortly before, things had not seemed as bleak as they currently did. At least John had managed to slip away and she hoped with all her might that he was where she needed him to be rather than some unknown location.
Several people dragged Bane across the floor like a deadweight. Her head ached and her jaw throbbed from the grip of those huge hands; she would be nursing a headache for a while thanks to those enormous hands. She could feel the blooming imprints of his meaty fingers written on her skin like some medieval branding. She closed her eyes on the sight, already hearing the residual voices of the fight reverberating in her head.
She had known it was the end even as she pressed the button to incinerate all those horrible samples of mass murder and she had not one shred of regret in her. When the door flew from it's locking place, she felt dread, when she ducked Bane's fist, fear, but nothing else. Not even a hint of remorse until Freeze cried out in dismay once they all burst through the door because in his case, she could sympathize. Part of her did wish she could have helped him, but not with this.
She backed away, seeking distance.
"You just signed your death warrant!" Harley's voice had been harsh, strained, hint of hurt hiding under the surface, "Get rid of her, Bane!"
She would not forget the vicious growl of a smile on Bane's face when he pounded his fists together, eyes murderous behind the mask, nor the wide-eyed horror on John's pale face. John followed Bane like a frightened shadow. It was the first time he looked honestly and truly scared since they walked through the upper-level doors.
"You made a grave error, Wayne!" Bane told her somewhat conversationally though overly loud.
"Maybe we should try a therapy circle!" John suggested, sounding calm but his expression was more wary and desperate.
"Do not interfere." Bane warned John with a slash of his hand to force the other man to take a step back, "This is her own doing."
"I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding! She just pushed the wrong button! It could happen to anyone." John persisted, but Bane pushed past him.
"What did you hope to gain, Brooke? There is no place you can go." He did not seem to want to hear her answer considering he pulled a console from the floor and threw it at her like some angry people might toss a table.
When she ducked, he charged her. She fought back, struggled to stay out of his hold, but there was only so much room and she was without her usual arsenal of tools, not even a strip of armor to her name.
She heard Harley call distractedly; "Let it be, John. It's over... for her."
All she had was John's razor blade, which she did pull even though she was more than aware it would not save her. She made for higher ground, jumping onto consoles against the wall only to have them pulled up from the ground and out from under her. It did not strictly surprise her considering she'd seen him upturn more and bullets barely slowed the man. He was so strong, and even more so with that serum pumping green in his veins.
Brooke ducked over, under, and around him, slicing at him with the blade for as long as she could, but he inevitably swatter her down like a bug. He kicked the blade from her hand and hauled her up off the ground, kicking and clawing for her freedom. That sense of powerlessness washed over her when not even her tose could find purchase. Kicking him did nothing but widen his enraged smirk.
"To be fair, I warned you never to give me a reason to crush your skull. You did not listen! I thought you were smarter than this."
"You think I'd just let you set a virus on Gotham?!" She hissed, digging her toes into his leg to try to find leverage.
His fingers tightened when he lifted her higher, dislodging her feet, "I did so hope it was not you. I wanted to be wrong."
Her struggle intensified, fear clawing at her insides, but his grip was like iron, the same iron that bashed in a very impressive security door without aid. She tried to send her knee into his chin but he blocked her with his forearm easily.
"You know what happens now. You know my position on betrayal." She could not have responded if she wanted to with his grip choking off her air; he shook her, jarring her brain inside her skull, "No...more...lies!" He bellowed before he began to press.
This was to be her end, she understood that. The pain was intense, the feeling of her skull being compressed, the bones beginning to slowly cave even though the bones were trying to bend, accept the pressure. The pain in her head stole away her focus until there was nothing else in the world. She knew she screamed, she screamed as the very most she could do to protest.
But suddenly the pressure was gone and he dropped her like a rag doll. She hit the floor and felt no pain from the hard impact, only stark relief. The moment she heard John chuckle and saw Bane's overly thick arms swiping at the familiar shape lodge in his back, she understood how and why she was still alive.
"Huh, that's actually not as hard as it looks."
There was no way to actually express the sheer amount of gratitude sweeping through her, "John!"
John laughed again, somehow entirely casual, "Did you see that? Wasn't it great?" John clasped his hands, looking at her excitedly.
She panted, struggling to get her feet to work, "Yeah, I saw it."
"What the hell is this?" Bane barked once the Batarang was free of his flesh, and she wondered if he really looked at it.
"You know exactly what it is." John snarled back.
Bane prowled toward John now, fingers flexing at his sides as if refocused on a new threat, "You've made your choice then..." John's face fell, as if he understood some hidden meaning, "too bad it had to be this way. I admit I'm disappointed in this turn of events as I hoped for a better end..."
Brooke surged forward with renewed desperation, intent to keep Bane from ever touching John. She won that fight, technically, with outside help. She won the battle but she lost the war. The outcome was almost everything she feared it could be if she failed. The virus was out on Gotham's streets, ready to kill the people she swore to protect. Bane and Freeze might be contained, but Harley was now the biggest problem they faced.
At the very least the GCPD were rounding up the vehicles once Alfred sent them the locations. Waller had no idea her prizes were being repossessed by those that were not strictly under her control, if only very slightly. Not that she passed the information on the Pact being on the move to the Agency to start with but she doubted they would be in the dark long at all. She would need to visit the trucks herself the second she left and gather the information personally before the Agency could.
Brooke cradled John's razor in her palm and slipped it back into her pocket. It had taken some looking but she found it as well as the Batarang she had given John. Unfathomable John, strange and disturbing, yet somehow charming under his glaring contrary differentness. Her Arkham knight. Now wasn't that a silly thought?
It was time to make her exit, time for Batwoman to take over the case. Brooke had been handling things all wrong so perhaps her other face could make some sort of rectification over the disaster. At the very least, Batwoman would be better the push of a button, she called the car, hoping Selina had not taken it too far away before inevitably leaving it behind; she knew Catwoman was unlikely to have accepted the offer to stay in the mansion. She made to flee, already itching to be ensconced in the familiar metal skin of her true self when Avesta stepped into her path.
"Wait, I need to speak with you!" Avesta looked so in control and yet there was something hiding just below, something desperate and shaken.
While she had always known she could never trust Waller, it seemed even she had underestimated the coldblooded bent of the woman. Leaving Freeze to die and trying to steal Riddler's blood? It was unconscionable, treating human life with so little regard. Freeze did not deserve to be treated that way, no one did. His information did open up a few new puzzles for them though. Fortunately, she had been right to scatter the crew, it left them vulnerable and far easier to capture particularly as they were currently leaderless. There were a few elements still at large but the majority of the key components were in custody.
What Waller had intended to do with all they found was only partly clear, though Avesta had a multitude of theories and they all sounded frighteningly likely. Lucky for them, Waller was never in possession of the blood even if she had gotten to the body and destroyed it before she realized the blood was in Batwoman's hands. The Agency moved fast, too fast in this case, to realize their error. The virus, save the vial in Harley's possession, was destroyed. The woman was far too preoccupied with Sanctus to keep accurate enough track of Brooke's movements, and that was only partially comforting. No doubt, if she fully realized who stole the blood, she would be after Brooke's own blood. She owed Avesta for that particular save considering she diverted more than enough people away from their activity to allow them to accomplish their goals.
Eventually, once they had all the facts in place, Waller would answer for her more than questionable activity but that would have to come later, once the situation had been neutralized. She might not trust Waller but the woman still had a significant hold on her that she would need to get out from under before she could really make a difference. The list of pressing issues was ever growing and it drove her insane.
There were some silver linings, though. Batwoman owed Gordon's right-hand woman considering she let her essentially steal anything from evidence she so chose. There were perks to being the enemy of the enemy, in this case, Waller's enemy. The GCPD, Bullock included, would probably have legitimately trusted the Mob over Waller, which worked out well for Batwoman.
Batwoman prowled around the front of the Batmobile, ready to speed away, but Avesta stopped her once again, "Where are you going?"
"Somewhere I needed to be ages ago."
"I'll go with you." The Agent offered quickly.
"Sorry... this one needs to be... just me. Thank you for your help. I'll be in touch."
Brooke needed to handle this particular mission. Even Batwoman would be a poor choice. She had most of the key element, now all she needed to do was find Harley. That was a job she could not accomplish in Kevlar, however. If John was where she desperately hoped he was, he could help her with that issue. She wished she could have gone to him sooner but she had to prioritize.
She changed hastily, as did the car panels before she hurried to the penthouse. Opening the door was like torture, slow and tentative as well as crushing because none of the lights were on. She turned some of them on as she went, almost afraid to utter his name for fear there would be no answer. Her heart was hammering so frantically it was painful, pounding harder than it had while she was in Bane's clutches.
It was with dread for the inevitable silence that she finally whispered; "John? Are you here?" Somehow she could feel her hands shaking as she forced her feet to keep moving.
She opened doors, heart sinking with each new dark room. There was a room, in particular, she wanted to check though, for her own peace of mind. Her knees almost gave out in the rush of relief the moment she walked into the media room and found him sprawled out face down on the couch. He seemed to be sleeping, though she suspected the two empty wine bottles on the table might have contributed to that.
The shaking lingered in her fingers but she was breathing more easily as she tiptoed closer. She knew he would be in a state but she had not expected him to drown himself in her wine cabinet. Then again, if she had come sooner he might not have needed to. If she had been there for him, he might be in a considerably better state of mind. Brooke reached toward him, fingers barely brushing against his soft hair.
He sprung into a sitting position and she nearly swallowed her tongue in a gasp. "Brooke!" and he cackled, looking at her with unfocused eyes. "You came!"
"Of course." She replied quietly, easing down onto the cushion beside him, "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here."
He looked at the floor, hands dangling over his knees. "She hates me."
"I'm sure she doesn't hate you, John." She knew exactly who they were talking about, and at least he brought it up himself.
"Oh, yes, she does. She's furious that I defended you. Furious that she's lost everything because of you. Furious that I brought you into the Pact." John seemed to sag with each point.
"Have you seen her?" Brooke asked, unable to keep her eyes from running a quick sweep of the room and all the potential hiding spots.
"No. But I did talk to her." He pointed vaguely at the phone, "I came here to hide out the minute I got out of there, just like you told me to."
"I'm glad you did. I'm glad you're safe." She kept her voice quiet, aiming for soothing.
"What else could I do? I have no place to go." His voice was loud, breaking on some words.
"I know..." Clearly, that was not the thing to say judging by the way he stiffened.
"You knew things were about to go down though... didn't you?" It was then that he faced her, brows turned down in a glare, "You got some real nerve, you know that, buddy?" For the first time, that word sounded more menacing than endearing, "I stuck my neck out for you. Way out!"
"I know..." She said again, and again, it wasn't the right thing.
"You convinced me to sabotage the whole operation! And for what? She flew the coop! I have nothing! You steered me wrong at every turn. Every bad piece of advice. Everything blew up in my face." His voice kept cracking with emotion and it broke something in her too.
She hated seeing him like this, hated it! He really did not deserve any of this. All he had done was trust in the wrong people and she too had been guilty of that more than once. He was hurt and felt abandoned, probably alone. She needed to assure him somehow but she was not sure how. Comforting people was not something she was overly skilled at but she owed him the attempt. Though she also still needed him, needed his help. She needed to balance that.
She dropped her eyes guiltily, "I'm sorry, John... I know I let you down. I was honestly trying to help."
"Well then, newsflash! You're bad at helping, Brooke. Like Bad Helping Hall of Fame bad."
A sad smile edged onto her lips, "I know. I tend to make a mess of most things. I told you that and you never believed me. There is a reason I don't have many friends. I never wanted to see you get hurt, I really didn't. I hoped I could protect you... you know, in return."
"I trusted you." It was the first quiet thing he had said.
"I know."
John sprang from the seat, "Will you stop saying that?"
Brooke caught his wrist before he could go on, "You can still trust me. I've always been on your side."
"Have you? Was it really my side you were on? I'm not so sure anymore." John's voice was low, edging on angry.
"It's not over, John. Harley betrayed us. Both of us." She began, but he cut her off, pulling away to pace.
"Yeah, but you weren't in love with her. It makes a difference when someone you love drives a knife into your back!" John ran frustrated fingers over his hair, growling at the air, "There's no point. It is over. The Pact. The dream. Us."
Just the mention of the Pact stirred up the Bat, "Not yet it's not. She's still out there. With a deadly virus in a city full of innocent people."
He glared, eyes narrowed to slits, "Call me when you got something I care about." John pulled one of Harley's guns from between the cushions, "Always surprises me how heavy guns are. This was hers."
Sheer, terrible panic washed over her, unsure if he intended to shoot her or if he might... turn the gun on himself, "It's gonna be okay, John." She stood very slowly, hands raised, inching toward him, "I promise. I care about you, John. You know that."
He looked at the gun, contemplating it, "I'm nearly out of reasons to believe you anymore, Brooke. Everything you've ever said to me... you had another agenda hiding under the surface."
"If you only ever believe one thing I tell you, believe me when I tell you that I do care about you. Please?" She moved closer, trying to get close enough to catch hold of the gun, "John. Stop. Please?"
John looked into her concerned eyes and his shoulders dropped with a strange sound of defeat, "Yeah, actually. That's not a bad idea." He tossed the gun onto the table without a care.
Her body sagged with relief, thankful he had not hurt himself, or her either. She scooped up the gun to be sure he could not reach for it again, tucking it away in a magazine holder attached to the coffee table.
"Well, it's been real." He clapped his hands together and moved around her, heading for the door.
She jerked back to attention, following him instantly, "What are you doing, John?"
"Leaving. There's nothing left for me here." He just kept walking.
Nothing left? What was the penthouse then? What was she? It was always Harley and it would always be Harley. She knew it deep down but it burned away at the tender spot in her heart where John resided.
"What?" She sped up and planted herself in the doorway, "No, you're not! It's not safe out there for you! You are staying here!"
"Don't tell me what to do, Ms. Control freak!" John shouted, shoving at her shoulder.
"Damn it, John!" She snapped, her own anger kicked up, "Listen to me! You need to stay here where it's safe! You can be mad at me all you like, but I'm not letting you just walk out of here."
There was a flash in his eyes before he grabbed her around the waist, lifted her, and slammed her into the wall. She let out a yelp of pained surprise, feeling her injuries afresh when he pressed against her, crushing her against the cool surface of the wall. Without any real thought, she wrapped her legs around his waist, ready to throw them both to the side before she caught herself, forcing herself to stay still. Something about the moment reminded her of her fresh fight with Bane, and maybe he was thinking the same because she felt him uncoiling inexplicably.
John's eyes were fixed on her throat and he let go of her with one arm in order to lift his fingers and trace her bruised jaw, "You're hurt." He said gently, his eyes going soft.
As if seeing the finger marks on her skin was enough to shift him back, now she was faced with the far more familiar John. Everything about him turned gentle and careful. He leaned in, inspecting the marks, tips of his fingers ghosting over her skin. She tilted her head, allowing him to examine her. It surprised her when she felt his lips pressing feather-light against the bruises, his breath fanning over her. It was a highly intimate gesture but one lacking any sort of perversion. He was so... good. Good to her. Innocent in his own twisted way.
"He could have killed you," John whispered against her neck.
"You didn't let him." She put her arms around his shoulders and leaned in, hugging him.
"I couldn't. I..." He trailed off.
"You always come to my rescue." She let her lips press to his cheek before she nested her face into his neck.
He might always want Harley but she knew herself well enough to realize that now, she would always want John. Neither one of them were very likely to have what they wanted. That tended to happen in life. Nothing was ever so simple, least of all love. Love was the most twisted of all, the most deranged. Love made people crazy, made them fools, made them do the worst things. There was no logic in love. It hurt like nothing else.
He turned away from the wall and settled her back on her feet, cupping her face in both his hands as if he could not stand seeing the finger imprints when he looked at her, "Sorry about pushing you, I kinda lost my head for a second."
"You're angry with me and you have a right to be. Things have been chaotic, you lashed out. I've done it too." He always forgave her, forgiving him one of his moments was the least she could do.
He closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together.
The Bat in her could not be kept silent forever, even for him, "I need to find Harley before she makes things any worse. Can you tell me where she might go?"
John pulled away like she slapped him, "I don't want to do this anymore! I don't want to find her. My heart can't take another kicking. I don't ever want to see her again. She ruined me. I can't."
"You don't need to see her, I want you to stay here, where it's safe. Just tell me where to look and I'll handle it."
John cocked a brow, "She'd kill you on sight."
Brooke lifted her chin, "She might try." At his look she sighed and crossed her arms, "It's important I find her, for her sake as well as everyone else. I know it hasn't been easy for us, and you're not sure about me anymore, but I want to look out for you. I want to look out for her too. I've made mistakes but I am your friend. We'll have to deal with our issues at some point, but right now we need to deal with this."
He looked at her with that fond sort of exasperation, "Okay, buddy. That Wayne charm gets 'em every time. You sure know how to spin things. All the right ways to twist my arm."
"I'm not trying to spin things or twist your arm, John. I'm serious."
He kept smiling, perhaps even partly convinced, "It's going to take me a few hours to find her. I have to check a few places. Do some things."
"No, you're staying here. The Agency is after you and I'm not risking them finding you. I'll check any leads you give me, we can stay in touch on the phone."
"Like I said, she'll kill you on sight. You might find her but you wouldn't keep her long. She'd never let you close enough."
She frowned but decided he might be right, at least about not getting close enough to catch her alone, "Okay, I'll come with you."
He laughed, "No. You won't." It sounded so cold, "There will be plenty of time for John and Brooke later. This is... I need to do this alone. I'll call you when I find something."
"John, anything could happen to you out there! Depending on where you were, I might not be able to get there on time." She protested.
He smirked, "You know, I did manage to get around before you, right? I'm pretty good at it."
"I don't like it, John! It would be safer for both of us if we were together."
"Fine, but let me check a few things alone first. Once I'm done, I'll call you and we'll hit it together."
That was less than satisfactory, "What about a compromise?"
John lifted his chin, regarding her down his nose, "I'm listening."
"You come home with me for a little while so I can check up on something, then I'll take you anywhere you want me to. I'll stay in the car, quiet as a mouse, no questions asked. That way we're still together but I won't get in your way."
"Your home? As in Wayne Manor?" He looked like he was expecting a negative but there was distinct underlying excitement.
"Yeah, that's the one."
John's smile looked a little more real, "Deal!" He stuck out his hand to shake on the agreement, "Can I see your room?"
Brooke blinked at him, "Uhhh... okay..." Anything to keep him happy.
He shook her had firmly, "I've always wondered, how may rooms are in that house?"
"I'm not really sure. I'm not sure even Alfred knows."
"Do you sleep in the same room you did as a kid or do you sleep in the master bedroom?"
"I- well..." At least now she knew what to use as bribery. He must have a thing for old family mansions. She never would have guessed.
Note:I had this edited once before but then my computer decided to undo all my changes. I think I probably cursed it for an hour. I tried to fix it again but who knows. I think I lost a lot of the flow I had in the first edit. It's choppy now but i don't remember everything I did the first go. Enjoy anyway!