Batman (Nolan-verse) fanfiction.
Summary: Crime is universal. Alex leaves one hellhole for another and hopes that a change of address is enough to hold them off. No particular timeframe but closer to BB than TDK. (Batman/OFC)
A/N: May contain traces of references to other movies. But there will be no crossovers.
First off, major apologies for the delay! Circumstances conspire against me. I also had writer's block for a good month or so on this. Hope you like it.

GHOST TOWN

Chapter 13

"I wish you could come back some time." The voice is muffled and soft, almost shaky, as it filters over the telephone.

Alex's fingers twirl idly around the phone cord as she sits on the edge of her bed, nodding. "I know, I wish I could too, Nat. But right now would be a bad idea," she replies. She'd told Nat already about her voluntary exile: that if any of the Yakavettas caught her walking along the streets of Boston, she was fair game. She could always risk making a sneak trip, but she'd have to wait until things cooled off.

"The kids miss you, you know."

Alex smiles lightly. "Do they?" She had resigned abruptly, only days before she left for Gotham, without giving her class or her colleagues much chance to say goodbye.

"Yeah, I still hear some of them ask if Ms Reilly's coming back. Your, uh, star pupil -- remember Damien? -- he gives the new teacher a real hard time." Natalya chuckles.

It's not hard to believe, and Alex laughs. Damien was a carryover student from her remedial class in the previous year: an extraordinary troublemaker, with zero interest in school work, rebellious and disrespectful, but he had a natural aptitude for science, given his curiosity in experimenting with various pranks. She could see him literally raising hell for an unprepared teacher. "So," she changes the subject, "how are you feeling?"

"Like I've been roofied," Natalya manages thickly, but with a light tone. "I'm not in any pain. Doctors say my condition's stable. I might be able to get out of here by the end of the week."

"You gonna be OK?"

"Yeah, yeah. Oh," she adds, "heard back from that Detective Greenly. He says the men who were arrested -- they all pleaded guilty, so we're not going to trial." There's relief in her voice that Alex can understand entirely.

"That's great news." She concurs. It saved Nat the trauma of the witness box if it had to come to that. While they didn't have the luxury of finding enough evidence to pin crimes on the larger Yakavetta mob, with Robert being the only mastermind (and dead), getting the henchmen who carried out his work properly locked up was no poor substitute.

It occurs to Alex that there's suddenly a huge breeze flowing into her room, lifting the curtains in bulging waves, when she notices the soundless entry of familiar black boots behind those same billowing curtains.

"Um, hey," she says slowly into the phone, "I have to go. I'll call you back later."

"OK," a yawn responds. "Time I got off anyway, or I'll get nagged again by the nurse on patrol. Night."

"Sleep well. Bye, Nat." She hangs up and looks at Batman expectantly. "I take it you've heard the news today?" How could he not? It was everywhere.

He stares at her for an unsettling moment, then gives a slight, barely perceptible nod. "Victor Zsasz won't be troubling anyone again." His voice is a measured monotone; business only. Well. Clearly he doesn't want to talk about it. She looks down, shifting on the bed. He continues, "I found him hiding in the sewers just north of the Narrows. Not far from here."

"Oh." She blinks.

"You should be careful."

Only then does she see the jagged cut on his left arm that has broken through the kevlar; it looks like a machete tore into him. Face blanching, Alex jumps to her feet. "Are you hurt --"

"It's fine." He brushes off her concern with a sigh. "It's... not uncommon."

The wound has stopped bleeding but it's gaping and horrific. She doesn't know how he can endure it, managing to stand so composed with his features all under control. Just looking at the cut makes her wince. "How do you do it?" She whispers. How does he put himself through all this -- all this danger and suffering and sacrifice -- without asking for a thing in return?

Batman half-turns to the window. "It's what I have to be."

"But why?" She remembers the headlines from that morning, the talkback radio interviews, the lack of faith people placed in him. She remembers the anger she felt. Either they took Batman for granted or they sought to throw him into Arkham. "Why do you keep doing this?"

He's silent for a while. Maybe it's a question he's asked himself. "I haven't given up on this city yet." He faces her once more wearing a sad little smile and takes her hand. She watches him uncertainly. "Will you come with me? There's something I want to show you."

What on earth? Her first instinct is to baulk because she has no idea what he could possibly want to show her, and her clock read 9:27 the last time she glanced at it... but she trusts him, doesn't she? She'd placed her life in his hands on more occasions than she cared to count. Her fingers curl tight against his palm in acceptance and she tries to ignore the strange energy in his eyes.

--+--

The tension inside the Tumbler is stifling. They've only exchanged two sentences between them -- where are we going? and you'll see -- and he can feel her unease grow with every mile of unknown territory (for her) they covered. On his part, he doesn't want to tell her, just yet.

He hears the hitch in her breath when the waterfall comes into view... and he hasn't slowed down.

"Um, Batman?" She falters.

"It's OK." He answers calmly. "We're home."

The car ploughs head-first into the water, a moment of blindness, and bursts through the hollow on the other side. The rock pool cushions their landing and while he drives up onto drier ground, Alex is busy gawking out the window at the revelation.

"Oh my god," she breathes in awe. They both climb out and he watches her take her first steps inside the batcave. She gazes up at the vast expanse of the hideout -- the natural pillars that support a high roof, home to a scattering of bats roosting away from their nest, the twisting tunnels, the waterfall -- and then casts her eyes onto the array of equipment stored here. She walks slowly around the central clearing, taking in the massive computer system and gadgetry, the tools and works-in-progress. "This is... amazing," she turns back to him, overwhelmed.

"Thank you." He isn't sure what to really say. No one's ever seen this place, let alone commented on it, other than Alfred and his mock disdain. He'd brought Rachel down here once, but she had been unconscious.

"No, I should thank you for sharing this with me. I appreciate it." Alex looks up at him with an earnest smile. He returns it.

Then he reaches a hand around to the back of his neck and starts to detach the cowl.

"What are..." She gasps in mid-sentence at this even greater surprise. She didn't realise the full extent of what he was willing to impart to her. "You don't have to do --"

"I choose to." He reassures her. "I thought you should know." Bruce lowers his head as he pulls the cowl off. He can hear her draw in a breath and hold it when the material clears the crown of his head; his face is down but he's in plain sight. Even with hair tousled and black make-up around his eyes, there's no mistaking his identity.

Slowly, he looks up. Her eyes are as big as saucers. Her lips have parted in a gape, speechless; all she can do is stare back. Shock and disbelief are easy to read on her, but beyond that, he doesn't know. As the seconds drag on in that god awful silence, his heart begins to sink. This was a bad idea and he'd known it. He forces back a swallow and tries to tear his eyes from hers, because he can't stand to see the disappointment when it comes.

"Mr Wayne?" She squeaks out at last.

The corners of his mouth lift unsurely, part smile, part cringe. "I think you can call me Bruce by now."

"Bruce," she breathes, eyes still roaming his face as if taking it in for the first time. "I had no idea... this whole time, you..."

"I'm still the same person you've always known," he tries to explain. "There is an idea of a Bruce Wayne, the corporate socialite with more money than brains -- but that's not me."

He doesn't know how much of this she's absorbing. She's staring at the bruise on his cheek, the one he'd gotten the other night from one of the Yakavetta men, and then she focuses on his wounded arm. Like she's piecing it all together, cementing in her mind the fact that Batman is really Bruce Wayne.

"It's... kind of incredible," she says at last. "I mean, I don't know, I'd had this idea that you were a regular guy -- nine-to-five job and all, like me, maybe ex-military or something -- but I never would have guessed... you were someone I knew all along." Her lips curl upward tentatively.

Her hand comes up gently to brush over the contours of his face, perhaps in fascination, perhaps to convince herself this was truly the face behind the mask. In any case, her touch is soothing and he relishes the feel of her soft fingertips on his skin in a way he'd never gotten to enjoy with the cowl on. Alex rises on her toes and presses her mouth to his. Like second nature, his hand winds around the nape of her neck, pulling her closer to deepen the kiss, and he can't believe the happiness that floods him that now she knows.

A clang of metal springs them apart. Bruce darts a look to the rickety elevator that has just descended and isn't much surprised (but very annoyed) to see Alfred standing there.

To his credit, Alfred catches on quick to the situation and chuckles apologetically. "I thought I heard you come in, Master Wayne, but I didn't realise you brought company."

Bruce wraps an arm around Alex's shoulder and brings the stunned girl to meet Alfred. "Alex, this is Alfred, my..." he pauses for a second, looking into the twinkling eyes of his butler; he's never had to properly address what the older man was to him, "...my mentor." Alfred's smile broadens genially. "Alfred, this is Alex."

"Officially I'm the butler, Miss Reilly, but maybe this change in job description means I'll get a bigger pay check," he beams at her. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"It's lovely to meet you too," she replies and shoots a sideways glance at Bruce. Of course, Alfred's subtlety would not be lost on her.

"Master Wayne's told me all about you," Alfred goes on with a playful glint in his eye.

"Alfred, don't you have something to do other than telling humourless anecdotes?" Bruce lifts an eyebrow pointedly.

"Certainly, sir; that arm of yours looks like it could do with some stitches, for one."

Bruce shuts up. Weighing his options, he decides having Alfred stab him with a needle and thread is the lesser evil. He excuses himself to change out of the suit into a t-shirt and jeans, rolling up one sleeve for Alfred to work on it. Alex sits by watching the two of them with a mixture of fascination and amusement as they chat idly; through this, she catches his eye every now and then and Bruce can almost forget the sting of having his wound treated.

With bandages strapped around his bicep, Bruce stands and leads Alex up the elevator to the Manor proper.

"Alfred's wonderful." She grins.

"Yeah, you say that now," he feigns scepticism. "You don't have to live with him."

"Um, I should probably go home," she bites a lip diffidently as she glances at one of the wall clocks in the room. "Thank you, for... well, you know."

He nods. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too."

Bruce drives her home in the Lamborghini, not needing a disguise anymore, and feels an odd sense of freedom. In the dark alley next to her apartment, Alex leans over the centre console in the car and kisses him goodbye for the night.