Telltale Bats

Come see me on Tumblr for all my strange stuff on this story! You can talk to me also. (I sometimes get very bored at work and desperately need something to help distract me from my suffering, so really, please talk to me if you want to) I'm still working on aesthetics and art, which I post when I finish it (I'm slow). If you have questions, requests, AU ideas, pretty much anything, I'm always ready to talk fandom stuff (if I'm slow answering it means work got busy but when it's back to being boring, I'll answer)


Brooke barely noticed the falling mannequins and the horrible screaming sounds, almost didn't notice the splatters of painted words depicting a spiraling descent into madness but she had trained herself to notice as much as possible regardless of the situation. It was disturbing and she hated how easily she recognized so much of the redecorating touches done to an already deranged building. She could not decide if half the noise she heard was part of the ambiance or if it was real, either way, she hated that too and the funhouse was due for demolition.

When she rounded another corner there was a gun in her face for the second time that night. A blonde man with wild, wide, angry eyes and an agency earpiece was behind it. She hated guns. She jerked to the side to avoid the bullet she knew was coming when she saw his fingers flex. Considering they had to know Harley was in the building, being shot at was not entirely unexpected but the ringing in her ears was unappreciated. She dropped down, ready to swing her legs out and sweep his feet out from under him, but she never quite got the chance.

There was a loud, sickeningly wet crack before the man dropped like a marionette with cut strings, head lolling awkwardly when he fell. John stood behind him with what looked like a bloody lamp post. There was red dripping off the corner of the lamp and John was slattered in dark red that turned his green shirt and vest an ugly brown. It only took a glance to see bodies behind him. The floor fell out from under her feet for a moment and the world was spinning like a carnival ride.

"John..." was all she could get out of her closed throat.

There was something in John's eyes, something even more wild, more manic, more unhinged than she had ever seen. His upper lip was curled into an animal snarl. It made a part of her try to cringe back from the darkness of it. Hearing his name called seemed to lift that deranged glint like a curtain being pulled aside and he dropped the post with a horribly loud clatter.

"B-Brooke..." His eyes danced frantically around the room and over her so fast she could hardly follow them, "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Are you bleeding?"

She did not mean to snap but it came out that way, "Fine. I'm fine, he missed."

He shrank slightly, clasping his hands the way he had a habit of doing, "Brooke... I'm so glad you're here." It sounded like both a lie and the truth; perhaps dread at seeing her but needing her to be there.

She could not stop herself from kneeling beside the fallen agent to check for signs of life. She also could not stop the cringe when she found none, "You killed him."

"He was going to shoot you!" John's defensive shout was more pitiful than it should have been and he withered just as fast as he bristled.

"You didn't have to kill him!"

She had not expected to arrive in this. She expected to arrive at a fight, yes, to John being in danger, yes. She expected to run in and break up a battle, to bash a few skulls and save him. She never anticipated it would already be over when she got there, or that John managed to beat the odds in a rather literal way. She never expected to stumble upon John in a room surrounded by bodies. There was something so wrong about that.

"I'm sorry... I... wasn't thinking... I just reacted." He stammered, wringing his hand. "I couldn't let him hurt you... I-I could never let anyone hurt you. I just, I just, just couldn't!"

She hated death, no matter who it was that died. She hated the stench of spilling iron red blood and swiftly approaching decay. She hated the way the human body looked after all life fled from them. She hated death even before her parents died, hated it the first time she found a stray kitten and tried to nurse it back to health only to fail. The longer she lived the more she hated death and the waste of life. Perhaps it was the inevitable side of life but it never felt natural.

"Don't - Don't be angry with me, Brooke. Please - just hear me out." He sounded like a kicked puppy. "Please, just... it - it's not what it looks like. I can explain."

Brooke rubbed at her temples, trying to gather herself, trying to stay calm, trying not to snap at him. Part of her mind was already picking him apart even when she tried to push it aside. What did he think it looked like? What was he so worried about? He did not need her to voice those questions. They were both having a very bad night, more than one, more like a bad year, bad lifetime.

"I know." She tried to gentle her voice and it came out wearier rather than softer, "Are you hurt?"

Actually, she was tired; physically and emotionally. She couldn't think of the last time she slept and things just kept piling up and up to bring disorder into her carefully maintained calm. Maybe she was as much of a mess as John by this point, she just hid it better. Her head pulsed with pain as if to confirm the inner doubt of her own stability. There would be time to deal with it later.

John almost twitched, looking at her with those wide, puppy eyes, "N-No, I'm fine."

In a fight like this, he should be hurt, even if it was minor, "Are you sure?"

He nodded again, flexing his fingers and shuffling his feet. With as much blood as he was covered in, he could have cuts and bruises she would not be able to make out. Then, perhaps none of the blood was his.

She reached out, gently touching his chest, carefully avoiding the blood. His heart hammered against her fingers like a trapped animal seeking escape. He did not pull away, which was a good sign. His green eyes were a storm, frightened and skittish, but dark and swirling like the eye of a storm.

"What happened?" She settled on next.

John swallowed and turned to look over the room, moving away from her, "The agents - they came looking for Harley... They just showed up! Uninvited! Rudely tried to kill me! They're not supposed to just start shooting, Brooke. They're supposed to say 'hands up'. I've seen it on the TV."

She wasn't entirely shocked, more disappointed she judged them correctly, or more precisely, Waller. "They just attacked you?"

"I tried to talk sense into them, but they wouldn't listen - they just wanted blood."

Another case of a Waller cover-up, no doubt. If something was in the way, dispose of it swiftly, people included. It seemed to be the running policy.

She looked back at John as he wrung the neck of an invisible foe, a sinister grin on his face, "Something took hold of me. Something dark, and vicious, and desperate for survival. I grabbed the nearest thing and started swinging." He swung his arms as a demonstration she could have done without.

She wished he had not told her that because she really disliked hearing it, but the laughter, dark and crazed was almost worse, "It's not funny, John. This is serious."

"No, no, I know." He smothered his laughter, shoulders trembling with effort to hold himself together. "I'm sorry. I... I always laugh when I'm nervous."

Part of her wondered if it didn't also substitute for tears. John was a highly emotional being but she couldn't imagine it went well for people that cried in an asylum. People developed a lot of coping mechanisms. She would save their analysis for later when she had time to mull it over.

Brooke spotted a rather large switch that would, she assumed, trigger the lights. She had no exact desire to see the damage any better but she knew she needed to. Sometimes sitting in the dark was not the best option. It would be easier to judge John's responses with the light on as well. The scene might be a little clearer too since she did not have her cowl or gloves for assistance and analysis. Not that she should be thinking of using them in this case anyway, or should she?

She heard the shots, one of the agents did nearly shoot her. John was trying to protect her and before that, himself. He was not trained the way she was. He only knew how the fight to kill thanks to the Pact. Harley and Bane probably taught him most of what he knew so it was little wonder he'd been swinging a prop around.

He jumped when the spotlight hit him. The sound of the lights mechanisms flipping echoing around the room. He seemed to shrink under the harsh light but it shifted into the manic smile as he turned in a small circle to survey the normally macabre room. The walls were spattered in blood. It looked like a grease-painted kitchen in an old diner Gothams kept in the poorer parts of the city.

"Wow. I completely redecorated, didn't I? I wonder what Harley would think of the new color scheme?" She was not fond of the look in his eyes even if he smothered his laughter with a cough.

Still, she could not help mentally examining the scene, finding what she could without being overt. She crouched beside a body that caught her attention. The bullet wound struck her instantly as out of place, an element of difference in his story, "You said you hit them with something?"

"I think so? I just grabbed whatever came to hand." He rubbed the back of his head in one of his many tells of nervousness, though many men shared that tell.

"This woman has a gunshot wound." Brooke pointed out, struggling to keep her voice calm and her mind clear.

"Uh, really?" Brook's eyes fluttered closed, wanting the explanation to be plausible for an entrance wound in the back, "Oh yeah... it's coming back to me now. She was going for her partner's gun," he made a gun out of his pointer fingers and she wished he wouldn't, "I - I just went on autopilot. I didn't stop until I was safe."

She stood slowly, feeling a wave of exhaustion, like keeping up the current conversation was a bit too much to mentally handle, "Okay, sounds - sounds like you did what you had to do."

"Exactly! It was a real life or death moment. I just sort of closed my eyes and hoped for the best." Now that sounded like him, "I felt so much rage inside me. Brooke, it was terrifying. It was like - it was like I became someone else. Someone... dangerous. But someone you want around when your back's against the wall."

She remembered suddenly what he'd told her at the cafe and her throat threatened to close. 'An animal in a cage.'

Her temples flared with pain when her blood pressure rose, "Well, I hope you're okay now. You think you're back to your normal self?"

"'Normal.'" His eyes widened and seemed suddenly miles away as his voice shifted into something she normally hears when she arrives at a customer service desk; sickly pleasant and unnaturally mechanical, practiced, and programmed, "Yes, I feel much better, thank you." Brooke instantly dislikes that voice she would bet he used on many, many occasions in Arkham to lie to an orderly. It was like saying the word 'normal' triggered something.

He did not even look quite like himself. Was that how she looked when all her mental walls slammed shut?

When he looked at her again she watched it fade back, peeling away in layers, "You don't have to worry about a thing. It was a momentary episode. A flash in the pan. It won't be a problem, I promise."

She wanted to believe that but was harder when there were bodies scattered around the room.

"John..."

"It's fine," he assured her again with rising desperation, "I'll be good, I'll behave! I shouldn't have done it, I know you don't like it, but I had to! They were going to kill me and I panicked but it won't happen again. I'm not...crazy, I'm just," he let out that dark, unsettled chuckle, "a little unwell."

Brooke swallowed, feeling unbalanced and unsure herself, "John..."

"Y-You believe me, don't you?" He sounded like he was trying to be confident but was on unsure footing.

Brooke was a little wrong-footed herself, could not decide what to think or feel. He was not exactly acting like himself but she supposed a confrontation like he'd just been in would do that. He'd faced violence before but he'd never played an honestly active part before. That could change a person, but she desperately did not want to think about that. She did not want to think about John changing.

"Of course I believe you." There was a little desperation in her own voice now because maybe she needed the verbal assurance as much as he did.

John exhaled a shaky breath, "Oh good. Thank you, Brooke. Thank you, thank you." He lunged forward and she was surprised her usual reflexes did not bring her into a full, instinctive retreat. Those long, pale fingers of his threaded into her hair when he cupped her head in his hands, eyes too intent, pupils too wide for a moment before they shivered and shrank mostly back to normal size.

When he leaned in, long nose brushing a path down her cheek, he pressed a lingering kiss behind her ear and then to the joint of her jaw like it was a vow only he understood. It made her shiver and coil her fingers over his wrists, though if she intended to push his away or hold him there, she had no idea. Knowing her own mind it was probably a precaution for either option.

"Brooke..." John whispered right into her ear; she waited for more but nothing came so she felt compelled to offer something.

"If there was more... if there was anything else you needed to tell me though... you know you can, right? You can tell me anything." She said quietly.

John pulled back, his pupils shrinking to the size of a pin as a slow smile crept onto his lips. "Right." The softness of the moment seemed to fade the longer he looked at her, "I wasn't sure - I was afraid..."

"Of what?"

"I wasn't sure I could... count on you. Not after the raid. I backed you at every turn, tried to help you see you could trust me."

"I did trust you."

His smile turned a touch bitter, "Not really. You've never really believed in me, trusted me. You've held me at a distance, kept my in the dark, since day one. It's been hard, knowing you haven't been straight with me, Brooke. Keeping your secrets. When we're supposed to have all this trust between us. Dr. Leland says trust is the basis of any healthy relationship."

It was then that her hands decided what to do, and she pushed his hands away from their resting place on her head, "Straight with you? You're telling me you don't keep secrets from me?"

"Oh, Brooke. There are secrets, and there are secrets." His grin widened and his head tilted like a hawk, eyes widening into something manic and frightening the more he talked, "Yours is definitely a secret. You forget I know you. The real you. Always hiding behind some kind of mask. Party girl, businesswoman, criminal. Bat."

He looked terrifying suddenly. Dangerous, unpredictable.

"What?" She took a startled step back but he followed, an intense, almost insane smile stretched so wide over his face.

"Ooooooh! Dun-dun-duuuuuuuunnn!" He sang, "You can't fool a friend. Someone who really takes the time to look. You are the Batwoman."

"Stop." It would have been a demand if it had been uttered at any sort of volume humans could actually here but ended up as more of an exhale of air.

He frowned slightly, but not enough to detract from the obvious pleasure he took in his own words, "You kinda gave it away with the laptop. Brooke wanting it. Then Bats wanting it. Then you stopped worrying about it once Bats had it, hardly even asked me about something you'd been so worried about before. Too much of a coincidence to ignore."

She took a step back from his intense scrutiny reflexively, feeling suddenly very sick, "That's ridiculous. I'm the furthest thing from Batwoman there is. I can't think how you came to such a wild conclusion." Her shoulders rose, probably not unlike the shell on a turtle, voice increasing in harshness.

"You don't have to keep your mask on anymore, Brooke." He jabbed a finger at his chest, grinning, "Not with me."

At her silence, he huffed a growl, rolling his eyes and swinging his chin up in frustration, "Oh! Are you going to make me trot out all the evidence?" His annoyance turned to a smile, "All right, how about the vanishing act you pulled at the cafe when the Batsignal showed up?" he was so animated, "You don't think I noticed how obvious that was?"

"That doesn't mean anything." She swallowed the terror biting her tongue and constricting her breath.

"No?" He arched a brow and shrugged. His grin turned that little bit sharp, the way he had that so often intimidated others and kept them wary of him. His abnormally wide smile appeared as it often did, that hint of creepy leaning to it she long ago became perfectly used to, "How about because, you said: 'I've already lost people close to me because of this case, I don't want it to happen again.'"

"What of it?" She snapped.

"Case!" He emphasized with a dark look, "Who would call it a case but a cop? Or... say, a vigilante?"

Somehow, there were shivers running up her sides and down her arms, pebbled flesh following. He really paid much to close attention to what she said. The room was spinning around the edges of her vision and she forced herself into a breathing exercise to hold onto her control, to force away the panic.

"Still no?" He cocked his head again to look into her face better, " How about you punching a hole in the wall at your office. Better yet? What about," and suddenly his voice was a relatively convincing version of Alfred, "'Batwoman doesn't use guns, Tiffany.'"

"Oh-" Brooke gasped, reeling back like he physically slapped her.

No! He heard that conversation? No! She should have checked, walked him out the door, locked him in the car before she ever uttered a word! She was so used to her home being a safe zone she forgot at times. Constant vigilance! She was usually so careful, hyper-aware of any and all potential dangers! Yet she dropped them all any time John was around as if he didn't fall into any of her typical warning categories even though he was in love with the former leader of the Pact! What was wrong with her? When had she decided to let her mind decay and rot? Probably around the first time she really looked into those puppy eyes. She was so blind, so stupid! Why could she not manage to hold herself together around him? Why did she let him do anything he pleased? Why did everyone she least wanted to learn about her always find out? Why did she bother with a mask anymore? Maybe she should go to the office in full regalia and conduct meeting that way to just get it over with!

John seemed sheepish then, "Couldn't help myself. I'm curious by nature."

She made a noise of disbelief and frustration that probably wasn't human.

Curious by nature? Curious by nature! That was all he had to say? If she did not have a code she might strangle him where he stood. Her heart was beating rapidly the way most things never got it pumping. Stressful meeting that rocketed the heart rate of most in business never even touched it. Being shot at hardly even registered. She dealt with stress every day, but this? Having the carpet jerked out from under her, the proverbial mask ripped from her cold dead fingers before she was dead or cold? At least she'd been behind that mask when Waller confronted her. It was easier to hide emotions from behind it, everything else was too naked.

"And what," Brooke turned to the side, unable to face him but defensive enough now that she couldn't turn her back on him, "You think you can use that against me, as blackmail?"

He raised his hands in surrender or assurance, she could not be sure which, "Oh! I would never!" But he dropped them again, moving closer, eyes so focused it hurt her, "We're two threads in the same stitch, remember? Bound together even under strain."

"Then what's your point?" Her defenses were running on high. "What do you want?"

"Well, aren't you jaded..." She stiffened when he eased in behind her, looping one arm around her waist and the other up over her sternum to hook his fingers onto her shoulder; the hold was exactly like a seatbelt, strangely like being braced against impact. "Who's gotten to you before me? Was it that Dent guy?" He rested his chin on his own fingers, totally surrounding her in an odd way.

Her sharp laugh was bitter and cutting, "If he'd figured me out all of Gotham would know."

John let it drop, instead, answering her question with a whispered purr right down her ear canal, "What I want," he poped the 't' in a hiss and made her shiver at the sensation, "Is us. Is trust. A chance. You and me, Batwoman. We can clean up this city together."

She felt her headache flair again, running a hard beat against the inside of her temples. She almost rested back against him, seeking the contact, the soothing feeling it tended to have with him but she stopped herself just in time.

He let her go, starting to pace, "After we raided the Agency's convoy, Harley stashed one of their trucks here. And now it's gone, which means she's getting out of town. Across the Gotham Bridge. Let me help you stop her!" Big, green, beseeching eyes locked on her and all his former confidence evaporated like smoke in the wind, "I know I messed up. I know you're angry with me. I know you don't like killing."

Brooke could not think of a thing in the world to say.

"I'm not asking for much, just a little faith." John was begging and she did not like that any better than the blood on his clothes, "You can trust me. I won't let you down."

How many times had trust gone very wrong for her in the past few years? How many times had she let herself believe only to be stabbed in her progressively weakening heart? How many more times would it take before her heart turned at cold as Victor's?

"I swear to you - this was self-defense. One more time... You do believe me, don't you? You still have faith in me, don't you? Your old buddy, John?" He sounded unsure, wavering.

It would probably be this time that would do in her heart if he became just one more broken promise, one more betrayal, one more person she believed in and lost. He could hurt her more than anyone before him since all these extra sticky emotions were involved.

Brooke desperately gathered herself, boxing the day up in a hundred little packages she could examine later and put aside for the present time. She had been thrown through too many loops for one night and she knew she had to be far more collected. There was too much ahead to let herself fall apart or panic over any particular element. Brooke did what she did best, she bottled it all up in a neat little row in her mind.

Pragmatically, even if she did not believe him at this point, he had her secret in the palm of his hand. She would be insane to push him away, to hurt him, give him reason to tell anyone.

John was unwell. Even if he killed those people intentionally, which seemed entirely unlikely when he was fully aware she was in the vicinity, he was still mentally unstable. A court of law would have to take that into account. His lack of weapon and improvised method of execution showed a lack of premeditation. If they had not attacked him first there was no reason he would not simply have run the way he did in that laboratory. John was more likely to flee than fight, he'd proved it many times, so why would this case be different? Why would he kill them when she was in the building and he knew who she was? A court of law would find reasonable doubt and he would likely go free.

How could she refuse to believe the man that saved her life? The man that apparently had been suspicious of her for some time and still decided to trust her? She owed him a return. And he also knew her secret. Just a little faith. She never was very good at that.

Brooke allowed a little of her tension to drop, "This is a mess. And we are gonna need to talk about it more. But... I believe you. I do trust you. You're my closest friend. I suppose I should have known all along I couldn't hide things from you. I... should have trusted you sooner, you've always been there for me when no one else was."

John's eyes widened, seeming overwhelmed for a minute when he stuck out his hand. By now she was so used to giving him her own hand she did not even think before she reached out in response.

"Brooke, I-I..." She got the feeling he bit off something he really wanted to say but rather than finish he suddenly jerked her into his arms, hanging on a hint too hard. Half of her recoiled from the instant realization of how much blood he was covered in and she jerked her chin quickly to the side, pressing her nose into his neck, hoping there was no blood there. The other half of her wanted to comfort him and rest with him until they could both forget any of the events ever happened and she tentatively put her arms awkwardly around him, gingerly touching him.

"I guess we all do keep secrets, don't we?" He whispered and turned his face into her hair, breathing out heat that traveled right down her neck. He held on just that much tighter and then it was painful on all her old and new injuries.

She could smell the blood, feel the stench of death seeping slowly into her clothes and skin.

"Let's get out of here, huh? Before anyone else shows up." Brooke offered.

John let go enthusiastically, "Agreed!"

She wanted out of the room!


Brooke was quiet on the drive to the bridge, she had no idea what she could say so she reverted to her most common setting. Silent. John, on the other hand, seemed set to make up for her lack of verbalization by describing random aspects of Arkham in far more depth than she ever cared to hear. John was as unnerved as she was, it was obvious. Any time he was particularly out of sorts, she noticed, he always brought up Arkham or Dr. Leland. If he needed support, explanation, security, his mind always turned to Arkham. John was also the most verbose when he was out of his depth or excited and she suspected he might be both at the moment. He was on a high from her pledged faith in him and the big reveal of his discovery. In his mind, this likely meant everything was in the open now, they were both free. If the secrets were out they did not need to hide. He was right to an extent. He was on a low too though because... well, it was best to leave the funhouse behind them. There were other things to focus on.

"Did you ever see Jervis Tetch?" John was still rambling in excess and she was only half listening, "He's in for stalking some girl named Alice, a former coworker. I guess he kidnapped her, drugged her fiance or something, and tried to take her to Wonderland. Everyone calls him the Mad Hatter." John cackled and she found herself chuckling with him at the honest absurdity.

"Only in Gotham." She muttered.

John leaned over in his seat, a silky, sly smirk still on his lips, "Have you ever had a stalker?"

Brooke shrugged, taking a turn a little faster than she should have, "I'm always in the public eye. Being famous at all tends to come with a few of those. It's not always intense stuff, just certain people attaching to you, thinking they either attributed to your fame by buying a magazine so you owe them or they create this fiction in their minds where you are destined to be together because you both like the same color. Usually, they just write letters and try to crowd in at events wanting your attention but it can escalate in some cases."

"Has it ever escalated?"

"A couple times. But I've never had any trouble handling it." Brooke couldn't help smirking, "I'm Batwoman... so, you know. I'm better equipped, I suppose."

John leaned closer, resting his chin on her shoulder and taking a deep breath through his nose like he was smelling her, "I bet they'd kill to be me. I'm living their dream. I actually got my chance to be friends with you, to know you, to be close to you. A nobody like me."

"You're not nobody, John. You're brilliant, and you're going to be amazing in my tech department. I have no doubt you'll be the best in any field, probably make quite a name for yourself. Of course, I'll make sure you're in a very long contract with me so you can't run away to some other, more alluring company." She teased, leaning her temple against his forehead for a moment.

"I would never leave you," John stated confidently.

Brooke hummed, making another sharp turn that dislodged John entirely, sliding him back to his side with a surprise giggle.

"I'm still making you sign a contract, but good try." She smiled wide enough to show a little teeth.

He was making her forget her own disquiet, making her eyes selectively ignore the blood spattering his shirt and staining his hands. John was good at bringing out the humor in her, good at making her forget herself and her problems. She remembered soon enough when they neared the bridge. The lights from the squad cars splashed bright red and blue over the glass of the windshield, a blinding and painful branding of her retinas. It looked like a hostage situation, and indeed it was one. The blockade of vehicles was a smattering of all variations of armored assault vehicles and typical squad cars.

The GCPD and the Agency were running on high alert, guns brandished warily at anything that blinked too rapidly. Harley was pacing like she was ready to fall apart, the iridescent orange virus in one hand and what was undoubtedly an incendiary device in the other. There was a distinct lack of her usual confidence, now she was just desperate, frayed around the edges and ready to rip with enough added pressure.

Harley and Waller were shouting back and forth, hurling threats like it was going to get them their way, or it would help. Neither of them would ever be able to talk anyone down off a ledge, that was certain.

Upon seeing Harley, John was no less put together, "They're gonna kill her, Brooke! They're gonna shoot first and ask questions later." He sounded so broken for a man that wanted to bring Harley in, but then, she of all people could understand conflicting emotions, "I can't just stand here and do nothing! We can't let that happen."

"You're right, we can't. We'll keep her safe, John. You don't have to worry." She fervently hoped she could keep that promise because even if she loathed the sound of Harley's name on his tongue, that did not mean she wanted to see her gunned down.

"Hearing you say that really calms my nerves." He wiped shakily at his face with his sleeve.

Well, that made one of them. At least John was feeling better.

It was with a quiver of doubt in her heart that she could hope to pull the situation back from the brink of total disaster, doubt that she could save Harley or her hostages, that she moved on the barricade. Her dilemma did not show on her face, her scowl sent more than one agent back a few steps, guns twitching with indecision. Avesta spotted her soon enough as she moved into the perimeter like a tiger plowing through the grass. They let her by, and John by extension, on Iman's word. Having friends was indeed helpful. Perhaps it had not been ideal for Avesta to know her secrets but it had indeed gained her a valuable insider to the world of political backstabbing.

Waller was in no better mood or frame of mind than Harley but at least she was reasonable, mostly. Or she listened, which was something Brooke had to count on when she ventured out into the open, feeling an awful lot like a pirate made to walk the plank, hungry sharks and unforgiving water waiting at the end of that think slab of wood. She wondered idly if that made Harley a shark.

Harley watched her approach with what seemed like humor but ended in a snarl, "Well, well, well, Brooklyn Wayne. Knew I shoulda killed you when I had you before."

"Hello, Harley." Brooke keyed her voice to something soothing.

"We meet again, huh? You decided to come back for more? I always did take you for a risk taker I suppose but you're really pushing lady Luck tonight!"

"I told you, Harley, I don't want to see you hurt. I came to help you."

She had a shocker in her pocket. If she could get close enough, she could shock Harley and grab the virus and detonator from her. It worked in theory. Harley's muscles should lock from the shock just long enough for her not to let go of the button and not to drop the virus. Brooke had to be very close indeed for grabbing them away to work, and even then it was something of a gamble on her reflexive speed. It was a rather extensive risk but letting Harley go on and depending on her reason was a bigger risk still.

"Help me? That mean you're gonna get me what I want?" Harley swayed her way closer, agitated, angry, "I'm simple enough to please. I just want one tiny thing. All I want is Riddler's blood. I get it, I leave Gotham for good." It sounded like she meant that. Too bad it wouldn't ever go so smoothly. "That Agency hell- beast says she don't got it, but I know she's lying through her teeth. Her people took it with the trucks."

Harley's description of Waller was almost enough to make Brooke crack a smile, almost.

Harley curled her lip, "Thanks for that, by the way. Real smooth, you getting us to load up and do the work for you. You were sharper than I gave you credit for."

"There is more to both of us than meets the eye." Best to stay on the topic before Harley got too worked up over the betrayal issue, " But Waller's telling the truth. The blood is gone."

Harley seemed interested, focusing on her closely, "She tell you that?"

Technically, yes, but of course that wasn't everything, "I believe her." She need to get closer, get Harley's guard down. It was all in the timing.

"Well, you're a freakin' fool. Just when I was starting to think you were smart. She just wants it for herself." She looked like she would have come and patted Brooke's check had her hands not been full, which served to remind her of what she held, "I'm holding all the cards." Her attention turned sharply to the blockade, "Either they give me what I want, or I play the one that goes boom! I ain't foolin' around. I'll do it without a second thought."

This wasn't going extremely well. She was progressively less sure of her success.

"You wouldn't win that way any more than we would. Playing all your cards isn't much good, we both know that. It's good for intimidation but not as good in practice. You need another plan, another option."

"I guess you'd know a lot about strategy, being a big, bad, cutthroat business Wayne, right? I'd believe you if I didn't know you were soft. You won't risk my commitment to follow through."

"There is no reason this needs to end badly for anyone, Harley." Brooke struggled to maintain the upper hand in the conversation, "Listen, I have pull with these people. You turn yourself in. I can protect you."

Harley scoffed, "I don't need protection. Never have. Way I see it, you need protection from me."

Behind the barricade, Waller gave the order to stand down once again and Brooke glanced back to see John moving in on them. He prowled forward, narrow hips swaying with his determined stride, his jaw set, and his eyes fixed. Clearly, John had enough standing in the wings.

Brooke pulled back to meet him.

He smiled slightly, reassuringly, "Brooke, you got her warmed up, but let me take it from here."

"What? No, we can work on her together." Brooke shook her head. They could double team.

Harley dropped her threatening stance with a sigh, "Ah, Puddin'..." She was probably relieved to see him for multiple reasons as well as disheartened.

Perhaps she wouldn't be so eager to blow the bridge with him on it. John waved to her pleasantly.

When he turned his eyes back to Brooke, he whispered, "Let me talk to her. I know her better than anyone."

That tightened Brooke's jaw a little.

Harley stepped closer, "I'm so glad you're here, baby. These deadbeats want my head on a stick."

And that tightened it a bit more but she pushed the sensation aside, there wasn't really a choice. Harley was right, she couldn't push her to test her dedication, she needed another option, "Listen, I've got a stunner in my pocket. If you can grab the virus, I can get the detonator after I've shocked her."

John made a face, "And you don't think that's risky? Even with both of us? Were you gonna try that solo?"

"I was going to try, yes... but if you help me, it might go better."

"Or I could talk her down." John said calmly.

"There is no talking her down, John."

"Not for you, maybe. You lost her trust. Me? I still got it. I can get her to end this, trust me! I know what to say to her."

"I don't think that's an option, she's too wound up."

"Like I said," John's smile was sly, "you can't, but I can. You know I always know what to say to make her believe me. Let me do this, let me fix this? Just trust me! I can do it. I want her taken in peacefully. I don't want her hurt."

Trust. He wanted her to trust him and take her hands off the situation? She didn't want to. "Alright, John. But if it looks for a second like she might not listen, wave me back in and we'll take her down together." Why was she letting him do this? This was such a bad idea.

"I won't let you down." His smile was so sweet and sincere it seemed somehow harder to send him off into danger, "I have everything worked out, up here." He tapped his temple.

He moved around her, shifting closer to Harley. She didn't want to let him go. She wanted to hold him there with both hands and never let him get close to a bomb or the woman holding the trigger, at least not alone. Her teeth were set on edge at the thought.

"Trust me. I learned from the best."

Brooke reached out impulsively, like her arms intended to carry out her wish, but she aborted the motion a little desperately, "Okay, just..."

Don't go.

John's smile turned to an exasperated frown, "Just what?"

"Try and reason with her. She thinks you're going to help her with this. She thinks she can manipulate the situation through you."

"I got this, Brooke. I'm just going to be myself." He looked so confident like he didn't realize what he was walking into. "Just like you told me in the cafe."

"Right, that's a good plan, John." She palmed a pick into his hand, "If you can, if you need to, jam that along side the button and if it's in tight it will hold the trigger until it can be dealt with." She might have seemed strained as much as she tried to hide it because he put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry about a thing." He winked like a reassurance, "With all these people watching," he made a theatrics gesture with his hands as he backed away, "how can I not live up to the occasion?"

She wasn't worried about the occasion, she was worried about Harley's temper and a bomb, "Please be careful." She blurted out quickly.

John shot her a catty grin, still backing up, "Careful is my middle name."

She wanted to slip him into the Kevlar before sending him over along with the mask but that wasn't plausible.

"I'll be waiting for you when you come back over. " She whispered it like a vow, a benediction to keep him safe; like it would mean he'd come back to her if she spoke it; like it meant he couldn't be hurt; like it meant he wouldn't remember he was in love with Harley and change his mind.

Batwoman should have come instead of Brooke. What was she thinking, expecting to deal with this in her own face?

He walked away and she retreated back into Waller's zone to exert what control she could on that woman and her people. If she couldn't talk to Harley she could restrain the Agency hell-beast.

When she stepped back to the older woman's side her spine was stick straight and her expression was blank but her fingers were quivering.

Waller's arms were crossed tightly over her chest, "Those two reprobates getting their heads together is a recipe for disaster. What were you thinking?"

"John said it himself, he knows her better than anyone. Give him a chance. As long as he keeps her talking, there's still a chance she won't blow the bridge. Him being here is incentive enough for her not to do it. She loves him and it will be harder for her to make a move that could kill him too."

"There is truth in that. Not enough to inspire confidence, but it's better than nothing." Waller admitted.

Brooke turned her attention to John and Harley in their animated, though unknown conversation, "We have a backup plan if this doesn't work. Let us handle it."

"I'm supposed to take your word?" Waller tsked.

"Why don't we trust them to negotiate? They've spent a lot of time with her." Avesta put in diplomatic as ever in her tone. "They know what makes her tick. If we want a peaceful resolution without casualties, they are our best chance. We don't want civilians or officers killed tonight, and anything else we do, like shooting Harley, will end very badly. It's our most viable set of choices."

The director sighed irritably, " We'll see how it plays."

In the distance, Harley hugged John, or maybe just leaned into him to be sure nothing was overheard, maybe both. They were close. If she's given him the device he could have shocked her right then.

"I don't like the look of that. Not one bit." Waller sounded tired for a moment.

Brooke didn't care much for it either, though probably for slightly varied reasons. Particularly when Haley leaned into John, foot popping up happily like some old romantic sixties movie. Her heart dropped when Harley looked back at them with a triumphant smirk. For a second there was fear and a fast slice of doubt; a former psychiatrist could twist John around her finger. Brooke swallowed the thought. John wasn't a fool, he knew what he was doing.

Waller dropped her arms, "You gotta be kidding. This is going south." She lifted her walky talky, "We're gonna shut this down right now."

"No, you're not." Brooke snarled, ready to snap the woman's wrist right off.

Surprisingly, Avesta was quick with an argument, "If we interfere now, we could push him right back into Harley's arms."

"If we don't," Waller snapped, "everyone on this bridge will die. Stand by to move in people! Alfa team, move in to flank. Take your positions."

"Don't." Brooke shoved the walky talky away from Waller's face, trying not to actively snarl like a tiger or act on the impulse to strangle her; she couldn't choke her, she needed her to resend that order.

Waller rounded on her, "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

She had no idea where she found the gentle, smoother tone but she knew where the sincerity was from, "You gotta trust him, Waller. I'm telling you, he'll come through. Rush them and you'll be responsible for the fallout. He'll come through."

"With a marriage proposal, maybe. Not a successful resolution to the crisis at hand." Waller was less than perfectly receptive.

She couldn't afford to be emotional, she knew that it would only make her seem compromised, and that would end her chance of being heard. It didn't stop her from stepping between the woman and John like that would somehow protect him or Harley, "He can do it. And if not, I'll go back in, and we'll take her with a new strategy. This is Gotham, I know a few things about the people here. Stand down."

She whirled around when Harley began to yell, "You back-stabbing piece of crap!"

Brooke watched, utterly stunned, as John took Harley to the ground with ease, holding a virus and deadman's switch at the same time. He looked so sad, sympathetic staring down at her.

"Don't struggle, Harley." John soothed as agents moved in swiftly, "They think you're a fighter, they're gonna put you in the hole."

Did he know that from Arkham, from experience? She didn't have time to dwell on that unpleasant thought as Harley was dragged to her feet, already secured.

Secured, but enraged, "I'm gonna rip your head off, you two-timing son of a-" Harley cut off in a growl.

It was over. The thought struck her like a wave of hot coffee down her throat on a cold night. John won, he did it.

Brooke was already hurrying to John, hardly paying attention to much else. She wanted to wrap him up in her arms and never let go.

"Get her out of here," Waller ordered detachably.

Agents dragged her backward but Harley wasn't finished, "How could you, John? Ya broke my heart." Some other time, later, she would find it in herself to feel sorry for Harley, but this moment was too good to sour.

"Brooke showed me how to be good, Harley. In a way you never could." He didn't sound particularly happy but Brooke was happy enough for both of them.

She didn't normally do things like open acts of affection but when she reached him, she coiled her arms around his waist, resting her head between his sharp shoulder blades. There was so much relief flooding her entire being she felt lost in the moment. Closing her eyes, she squeezed him once. She didn't want to watch them take Harley away or look at her face but she was just so glad the other woman failed.

"You did it, John." She whispered reverently, "I knew you could do it. You were amazing." She didn't let herself get caught up in the moment often.

Her heart was so swollen with pride and relief she could hardly stand it. This man was incredible. He went against his heart and chose the right path. Maybe, by some extension, he chose her as well. It couldn't have been easy but he'd done it. The urge to kiss him struck her but she mentally batted it aside.

When John shifted she let him go, let him turn around, "Thanks!" He grinned, looking slightly haunted but also happy.

She looked into his big green eyes, thankful she had the chance to do so, "You were amazing." She repeated quietly.

Waller's voice was like a knife cutting the connection, "Thank you for your help, Mr. Doe." John's lip immediately began to curl, "You did a great job." It sounded less like praise and more like a platitude, "The virus, please."

Brooke stiffened, pressing her shoulder to John's, turning her eyes on the other woman.

John's voice was soft, calm, but sure and serious, "I don't think so. I don't think anyone should have this, least of all you. Brooke was right when she tried to destroy it at the lab. Harley shouldn't have it, no one should."

Brooke smiled slightly, proud of John for so many things. John was so much smarter than these people gave him credit for. He was also a good judge of people and he was also right. Nothing like a powerful virus should ever be placed so easily with Amanda Waller. It would be like returning it to Lotus.

"Good point, John." Brooke starred the head of the Agency right in the eye and slid the virus from John's palm to hold it up in the light, mildly surprised he just let her take it without knowing what she intended. "I think it's only right to let me finish what I started. After all, you did send a civilian into a terror organization in order to extract information. It's only fair said well-respected civilian be permitted to finish the assignment." She asserted all her boldness usually reserved for hostile takeovers, "I'm sure the GCPD can escort me to Wayne Tower. Agent Avesta can oversee it's safe, timely disposal. I have plenty of tech made for this kind of thing, and you know you can trust my recourses, you needn't worry." She took John's hand and pulled him in a path to lead him away from all of them.

"Well then... I hope you're prepared for the fallout, Ms. Wayne. If I let you walk away with a deadly virus, people are going to ask me why I deemed you trustworthy. You are the daughter of a mobster, after all. In which case, I'll be under obligation to enlighten them to the vast... resume you hold. All those secrets out on the late night news... and a bridge hostage situation is going to be secondary news." Waller was playing at casual but it was a blatant enough threat.

Brooke's spine snapped that much straighter, eyes narrowing to sharpened steel, "Don't threaten me."

"It's not a threat. You no longer serve a purpose in my investigation." Waller shrugged one shoulder, "As they say, you've outlived your usefulness."

Brooke sneered, "Oh, I doubt that. You're not one to let go once you've sunk your teeth in. Don't take me for a fool. You can't just-"

"You vastly overestimate your value in the grand scheme of things." Waller's smile was anything but pleasant. "If you become a liability, I have ways to discredit your every statement. If people learned about your secret, how long do you think you'll last on the street, Wayne or otherwise? Exposed, you're nothing but a sitting duck for this city considering how many enemies you've made."

"Director!" Avesta rushed in like a placating bulldog, "Brooke has done a lot for the Agency! She has more than earned her place with us in her time undercover. We wouldn't even have the Pact in custody, let alone have gained the location on Lotus without her help, or John's. They have both proven highly valuable."

John cocked his head, eyes narrowed to near slits. He ignored the progressing argument to make his own, "So you're the one that made her jaded. You Agency people, you're just the worst! You're supposed to stand for justice. But you're liars. And you're murderers. And you're so rude!"

"I don't think you have room to judge." Waller sounded more like a fifth grader.

"Since we're the ones that saved the day, we have plenty! You think you can threaten her? You and what army, you corrupt pigs?" John puffed up like an enraged cat.

Waller hissed, "A creature like you has no concept of what a higher level of thinking looks like. As you can see," she motioned to the crowd, "I have the law on my side. It's more army than I need."

"That's where you're wrong." John hissed back, "Right, Brooke?"

She couldn't really answer him, had no idea how. He wasn't precisely making things better though she could hardly spare the focus to comprehend his statement. There were other things she needed to worry about. John's fingers tightened on hers.

"We're leaving and you're not going to stop us." John and the Director sounded like they'd just immerged from high school.

"No one is walking away until I say so." Waller barked, stepping closer with several agents at her heels. "Hand it over!"

"Wrong!" John chimed pleasantly, "I think you've forgotten something in your eagerness." John's voice shifted suddenly you a growled purr, low and threatening.

Waller slid her eyes over both of them with waning interest, "What would that be?"

He grinned his most menacing, wide turn of the lips, "Perspective. Or just the press of a button."

The cloud of fire and smoke was almost a precursor to the sound and the ringing in her ears. Her headache spiked into stabs running in all angles through her brain, disorienting her. She stumbled and found a solid body when she reached out. She knew it was John without looking, recognizing the feel of his arms around her shoulders.

The virus was still in her hand, safe for the moment. She had no intention of letting it go for any reason but her body probably would have liked to. She hated explosives, they always had the tendency to leave her fuzzy for a minute, which she was not overly fond of even if she recovered faster than most people. The ringing was already grating her nerves.

Her mind and body were running on the defensive so it took very little to drive her to a fast response. She decked the first agent that stumbled from the smoke on reflex, kicking the second in the chest to put him down. It wasn't intensive work to knockout someone already disoriented but John cackled like it was the best thing he'd ever seen.

For her part, she was not overly amused. They still had to make it back to the car and through the thick of chaos if they wanted to end up anywhere but a cell with Harley.

"Come here, baby." John tugged her head first into the smoke, smartly using it for cover, but then he let go. The loss of him stunned her momentarily but she was at least gaining her sense back, the heaviness in her ears beginning to pop free. He let out a cackle too similar to the funhouse and she scrambled after the sound, only catching up to him after he'd thrown a woman to the ground and stolen a gas canister, which he promptly threw into the thick of the crowd.

"You and me, we're gonna hunt them down together." It was easier to hear him but John was rambling, "You're all going to pay for your crimes!"

"Where's Wayne? I want her secured!" Waller bellowed angrily.

There was fire and chaos all around them. Car alarms were shrill and the fires burned bright in the aftermath of the explosions. It looked like the slums on cold nights, only rather than drums, it was cars containing the hungry flames. An agent stumbled through the smoke, already lifting his gun the second he spotted them.

Brooke rushed him, aware of her own probable advantage on someone that had undoubtedly been closer to the blast than herself. One punch put him down and it seemed too simple. Part of her was already geared for a more real, tangible fight.

Waller stirred her rage and now she wanted to fight.

John turned her around, pulling her away from the thick of it, away from the fight over half of her craved. He seemed to have a plan, or she assumed he did. She would reserve judgement on his methods later; she'd never guessed he'd set off the explosives, she'd been planning to take care of the switch in the car, but he had set them off.

"Don't worry, no one's getting close to us, Brookie!" John leaned in close, a huge grin on his face. "It's going to be so much fun!"

He pulled her to the edge and she followed without protest, too stunned not to. She heard the pop of shots being fired and turned to find the source, instinct propelling her to shield John. John let out a noise of distress before his arms glued her to him with significant force. When he pulled her over the railing she had only a second to regret her lack of a cape before the ice stung her entire body, crashing a pressing her from all sides.


Note: This has just turned into something I never really planned to write but it's also turned into what I'd rather have seen in the game, which was like... a third option kinda thing. When I started the story this wasn't how I planned it but it's how it's developed. Hopefully you will like my third option ending as well as villain path and vigilante path after that. Pick your own ending is what I think I've ended up doing here with three choices.