There was one nice thing about Arkham Asylum's seclusion from mainland Gotham: breezes off the water were the perfect combatant to the sticky summer temperatures. This wasn't necessarily the experience of most of the inmates who were bound by the four-storey walls that ran around the three edges of the island. Even for those who were granted outdoor access, views to the water and city were restricted by the same walls. The former estate turned psychiatric hospital was a haunted story. Kids spent their youths frightened by the stories of the terrors that lay beyond the old stone and mortar. Unmonitored teens would dare each other to bike through the connector that linked Coventry to The Narrows and Gotham Heights. Extra points were given for loitering to catch a glimpse of a 'crazy'. The heavily fortified structure and constant surveillance made this nigh impossible.
Impossible, that is, for anyone who wasn't trained in moving seamlessly with the night. Rooftops were one thing, but vast stretches of open, unbuilt land were something else entirely. Once that obstacle was well under control, there was the added complexity of the labyrinthian collection of walls constructed throughout the years along the grounds. It wasn't clear if they were meant to dissuade inmates from going or anyone else from coming, but it was abundantly obvious how resourceful Luke and gps were to navigate the twists and turns. With Luke's guidance weaving her stealthily-
"Wrong way," Luke muttered.
"You said left," Kate hissed back.
"And you turned…"
"... shut up," Kate scowled grumpily, turning a full one-eighty to change course. "I can hear you smiling."
"What can I say, you have great punchlines. Take another left in fifteen feet."
"Thanks, Google."
- through the grounds, she made her way toward the employee parking lot. Apart from a few minor setbacks, this had been relatively pain free. Even Arkham's guards were spooked by the Fear Toxin - at least, that's what Kate and Luke concluded after long stretches with run-ins with any patrolling guards.
"I was really hoping it wouldn't be this easy," Kate muttered after nothing but silence for a ten minute stretch save Luke's occasional direction.
"Why? You got some pent up energy you need to work out?" Luke asked dryly.
"No, I'm just saying… it's not exactly comforting to know the level of patrol around some of the most dangerous minds coming out of Gotham aren't exactly being closely watched."
"I didn't realize they posted inmates outside on the lawn," Luke continued. "Or wandering a maze in the middle of the night."
"What?"
"I'm sure they're all just inside the walls," Luke said, earning a silent eye roll from Kate. "Heard that."
"No you didn't," Kate shot back.
The parking lot was well lit relative to the rest of the grounds. Having taken the backway in, Kate had avoided the rent-a-cop security booth and gate at the entrance. She maneuvered around the perimeter, suddenly thankful for the two weeks she'd spent navigating the catacombs of Paris as part of her training. That the navigation was motivated by escaping four grunts on her tail every day and night made the need for suppressing the pain of four broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder and blending into the eerie silence all the more relevant. By comparison, this was a walk in the park - literally and figuratively.
She needed elevation to keep an eye on her surroundings and found it in a dead-ended wall fallen into disrepair. The forgotten debris and missing chunks allowed her to scale it easily without relying on the sharp clatter of her grappling gun. From this vantage she was able to survey the entire parking lot. It wasn't large: perhaps sixty spaces. Nearly a quarter were filled with the night shift. She spent the next few minutes rattling off different license plate numbers to Luke who provided the necessary feedback until they'd found their target. Once confirmed, Kate settled into the waiting game, perched beyond the light and gazing, unmoving, toward the Asylum's exit.
It was nearly forty minutes before the first evidence of life echoed through the night. The creak of the door swinging open and clicking shut sent Kate on high alert. Shortly after a stocky woman in a white nurse's uniform strolled into the parking lot, a waft of cigarette smoke following in her wake, and Kate let out a slow breath she'd been holding in. The second figure came moments later. It was another woman dressed in the same uniform; this one though was much older and her uniform had aged yellow with time. She walked with more intention, taking no time at all to empty herself from the parking lot.
Another ten minutes passed before the purpose of Kate's late night rendezvous came into view.
Dr. Randolph Butler looked older than in any photos they had. He was a curious figure in Gotham's sphere of famous people. While his name wasn't on the tongues of its streets, Gotham's elites knew him for his association with Delia Pflaum, and that carried a certain notoriety. Generally this kind of local stature resulted in a splash across page six or the spread of some local tabloid at least once a year, but Butler kept a low profile. His comings and goings from Arkham were infrequent and cloaked by darkness. The most recent photo Luke had come across was grainy, nearly five years old, and failed to articulate the creases that came with age on the version leaving Arkham.
He was a long man, with bright eyes and sunken cheeks. His receding hairline was concealed by a driving cap, but his five o'clock shadow revealed the salt and pepper of time. A worn briefcase was held limply in his left hand, and a set of car keys jingled in the other. A faint click over the sound of his shoes on gravel and a flash of headlights from an aughts-era grey sedan signaled his trajectory. Kate readied herself, anticipating her stealthy approach as he neared the car when, instead, his feet shuffled to a halt.
"I haven't seen one of your kind in a few years," he called, his attention still straight ahead.
"Had I known you were holding your breath I'd have visited sooner," Kate's modulated voice called from the shadows.
"On the contrary, Batwoman," Butler replied, turning and looking up toward the unlit void that concealed her perching. It was said nonchalantly, which suggested he either had plenty of experience with Batman or held little regard for the nightly outings of vigilantes.
In either case, Kate's presence didn't seem to surprise him in the least. While Kate hadn't banked on the shock factor providing her the upper hand, that he didn't appear remotely shaken cast doubt on her ability to rattle him into offering up information.
She jumped from her elevated spot to the ground, taking care to limit the sound her boots made as she landed.
"I didn't realize Batwoman's scope included Arkham."
"Normally, no," Kate said easily, "But it seemed like a nice night for a stroll. And that stroll took me over the river and through the woods-"
"To grandmother's house, yes," Butler replied, obviously unamused by and seemingly impatient of Kate's retort.
"I was trying to embody the spirit of Amadeus's kiddos taking the trip back to Grandma Elizabeth's all those years ago."
"Show off," Luke muttered.
It was true Kate had only recently discovered the history of Arkham, but that didn't stop her from touting that new knowledge.
"Not to sound rude, but I seem to be missing the point of your little midnight hold-up," Butler said, eyeing her with renewed disdain.
"This isn't a hold-up. This isn't even an interrogation. You're free to leave whenever you'd like."
"What are you doing?" came Luke's voice in her ear. She ignored him, crossing her arms comfortably across her chest.
"Silly me. You lurk in the dark, armed with half your face covered like a thug, and I'm supposed to be left with the impression that I can simply walk away?"
"Yes."
"Kate, you said we were-" her thumb grazed the comms button, cutting off Luke's side of unsolicited commentary.
Butler eyed her curiously before the hint of a smirk appeared. "And to think I was worried you'd be the same brooding bag of tricks he was. Quite violent, that one."
"I can't speak to Batman's techniques, but I've done my share of bullying. You don't strike me as someone willing to bend to a biting tone and the threat of violence though."
"Perceptive, but anyone with half a brain could venture to guess that." His voice wavered between a soft sandy whisper and gruff but expressive. That latter lacked some of the control she expected from a world-renowned psychiatrist.
"You've got quite the reputation," Kate nodded. "Most of my predecessor's closest pals have cell blocks here."
"I work with all sorts of people. Some have been troubled their whole lives by something greater than either you or I. Some experience trauma later in life. Some have it in them all along, and it's only after time that it rears its tormenting head. And yes, some of them are criminals."
The sound of a harsh buzz and a gate unlocking in the distance caused them both to turn back toward Arkham's entrance. Unspeaking, Kate shifted out of the direct light and toward the wall's edge she had previously been stationed at. Butler too stepped away from direct sight but remained under the basking light of the security lamps floating above them.
"Now, without seeming too impatient, what, may I ask, is the agenda for this… visit? Surely it all falls under new business."
"It's quite simple," Kate said. "Fear toxin is running rampant through the city-"
"Is it? I'm quite invested in my work so I'm not always up on Gotham's latest trends."
"-and you're at the top of the list of suspects."
"Is that so? And why would that be? I am but a humble servant to Gotham's most troubled."
"A humble servant with a knack for using blue poppies on his patients," Kate added.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. That was Dr. Crane's purview, and he hasn't been practicing for… well, quite some time," he said with a knowing chuckle.
"And I have it on good authority you're the man to know that. You've been Scarecrow's primary psychiatrist for quite some time now."
"Even if this is true, what is the basis of your accusation? You think I am somehow supplementing Dr. Crane with the channels to continue his reign?"
"No, I don't think you're supplementing him. I think you're supplanting him."
"Big words for a pair of fists. I seem to be missing the connection between me and this latest surge of fear toxin."
"Because you have a track record for using blue poppies on your patients, many of which have been released by the dozens in the last months."
"Interesting theory," Butler said, giving nothing away. "I don't suppose you have any real evidence to back this up?"
"Funny you should mention that; the Crows came into some damning evidence. It's enough to bring you in."
"Is that right?" Butler asked, and for the first time a small smirk betrayed his blank expression.
"They've approached the District Attorney who is drawing up charges," Kate continued.
"Well then where are they?" Butler asked, his eyes tracking over Kate's shoulder. He calmly turned to his left and right, scanned up, then down for added effect. "I see no Crows. Surely if my hands are tied they'd be the ones knocking on my door."
"Consider me the gatekeeper."
"You? A woman, dressed in a man's shadow?"
"All the better to hide in," Kate retorted dryly. She'd prepared for a game of baiting, she just hadn't expected it to be this obvious. That said, she wasn't about to relax. Dr. Randolph Butler made a career off of getting into the minds of the most unreachable - she'd be foolish to think this would be the last trap laid.
Butler smirked. A glint in his eye flickered as though entertained by the whole encounter. Kate felt her eyes narrow, mentally tallying a point in her column. "Last I heard the Crows weren't terribly thrilled with another vigilante swinging from rooftop to rooftop."
"So you do read the papers."
"I hear whispers. Just because I'm a dedicated worker doesn't make me a hermit. And if the rumors are anything to go off, your little partnership with the Crows is either unsanctioned, or you're not being truthful, Batwoman. Why should I believe any of this?"
"You're a smart man, Dr. Butler," Kate replied. "It's all quite simple: you give me the information I need to shut this whole operation down, and in return you get a sweet deal that doesn't leave you behind bars for the rest of your days."
"And if I refuse on the basis of being innocent?"
"I think we both know that's not going to pan out."
Butler smiled, chuckling at a punchline only he knew. "Batwoman, I think you misunderstand who holds the cards here."
"Here? Oh, no, I don't think either of us holds the cards," Kate replied, her eyebrow flickering in amusement under the cowl.
"I get enough riddles from Edward," Butler sighed. "Either say what you mean or let me be on my way."
"Tell me about your wife. How is she?"
"My wife?" A small flicker of recognition crossed his brow, but the rest of his face remained unchanged. "I must say, I'm surprised you've come so unprepared. Surely you would know my dear Delia has been missing for over a decade now."
"Missing is one interpretation. Where does she fall on that spectrum? Has she always been troubled, or did this come on later in life?"
"It's quite cruel to attack an old man's wounds."
"What was it like to lose her, Dr. Butler? You made quite the show of it: missing reports, canvassing of Gotham's streets and harbors, the weeping husband."
"It was a terrible experience, of course. Anyone who loses a close partner would feel a sense of fear at the unknown of her disappearance. Wouldn't you?"
"And if any of that were true I can imagine the heartbreak. But you didn't really lose her, did you?" Kate asked, ignoring the question posed. "She's been under the noses of everyone for ten years."
"If I am tracking all of this correctly, you presume that my missing wife of a decade has somehow been burrowed away into the walls of Arkham to… do what, exactly? I've spent my life weaving together the threads of incoherent stories, and even I'm struggling to follow."
"What is her role in this?"
"And now you want me to help fill in the gaps to your fiction?" Butler asked, his eyes bulging in exasperation.
"Hardly. I just can't imagine she'll be as unwilling to defend you as you are her."
"And, presuming your little theory holds any water, what is the basis for that suggestion?"
"Because Delia Pflaum is cunning. She's the reason you have an endowment to run your little operation here in the first place. You think she would pass up the opportunity to shed herself of any blame when given the chance?" Kate asked, honing in on the way Butler's eyebrow flicked ever so slightly. "What? Afraid I'm right, Dr. Butler? Afraid you might lose all of this and her in the process?"
"Afraid?" Butler scoffed. "Your interrogation is weak, Batwoman. You project yourself onto others far too much."
"And I think the flush of your cheeks says it's working?" Kate smirked.
"Tell me, Batwoman, since you seem to speak from the fear of loss, who drives you? Who has woven so tightly into your mind that you call out into the night and bolt awake in terror?"
Kate blinked away the flash of her nightmares, hiding it behind a forced smirk of amusement. She hoped it did the trick. "What makes you think it isn't just the cauldron of bats I bunk with?"
"Humor to deflect. How uninspiring."
"And the blue poppies?"
Butler smirked, waving a knowing finger toward Kate.
"I can't decide if I have underestimated you, Batwoman."
"Let's err on the side of caution and assume that you have," Kate replied dryly.
"There's a curiosity in using the blue poppy on my patients. Do you know what it is?" he asked rhetorically. "A patient's fear is the key to her troubles; her insecurities, her heartaches, her motivations, her wall of… deferential humor," he waved dismissively toward Kate. "It is only after she experiences a dose or two of the serum…" he paused, smiling as though lost in a memory. "Forgive me, I've never been much of a romantic, so anything tied to the heart has never been a motivation. But fear? Now that is something that should be worn on the sleeve.
"Yes," he continued, taking a confident step closer to Kate, "you may clad yourself with impenetrable armor and shield your face from view, but when I look into your eyes, I see you for what your fears make you. I see the insecurities that you try to conceal. I see the doubt and the struggles you pretend aren't real. It swims at the surface. I can practically smell it on you. You are afraid, Batwoman."
"Perceptive, but anyone with half a brain could-"
"Tell me, which parent was it?" Butler interrupted, as though bored by Kate's attempts to deflect. The dim street light cast an orange glow over his nose and cheeks, but his eyes remained under the cap, glowing of their own accord as he stared down into Kate's eyes.
"What?" Kate blinked, feeling a smallness in how his critical gaze penetrated past her facade. She was thrown by his words, by his ability to dismantle her defenses and leave her stripped of those walls she had worked so hard to build up.
"Your mother, yes? Unexpectedly in front of your eyes no doubt. It would explain your career choice; raised by a father to be a fighter, defending the weak. Making up for your failed transgressions when you were too young, too weak to save her," Butler mused, and Kate felt her heart stutter with discomfort.
"You don't-"
"But there's more. Who else?" he asked, gazing in wonderment into Kate's eyes. She felt a flash of anger and fought the urge to take a swing. She needed to keep her cool. She needed him to slip. She needed… to let him think she was falling into his trap.
"Sibling," Kate confessed.
Butler's gaze interrogated her, weighing the truthfulness of her response.
"More than a sibling."
"A sister-"
"A twin," Butler interrupted triumphantly.
Kate's silence was confirmation enough. That small victory wasn't enough though, and she was caught off guard when he persisted.
"Yes… but these are old wounds. I am asking about the fresh one. The one under all of those losses and regrets and self-hatred which feed your fear. Who is it? Who haunts you?"
Kate blinked. "No one."
"My god, to have you as a patient. So many layers of pain in your life to peel back. So much fear laden under that. You would make a spectacular specimen, Batwoman."
"Is that what Delia is? A specimen to study?" Kate asked.
Butler smiled, his long, crooked teeth glistening under the light. "No. She is a specimen worth praising. She doesn't just accept her fears; she controls them. They give her a power to exude control over others. She is perfection embodied."
"Then why keep her trapped inside Arkham?" Kate asked, unable to hold back the curiosity in her voice. It struck her that Butler's candid demeanor likely wouldn't last.
"Trapped? No, no, you misunderstand. My sweet Delia is not trapped. She is blossoming."
"Blossoming? How?"
"Tell me, Batwoman. What haunts you?"
"You've already asked this," Kare replied, a bite of impatience in her voice.
"Yes, yes, some version," Butler nodded. Kate wasn't sure if he was nodding in recognition of her reply or for other reasons.
"Nothing haunts me. Except old men who infatuate over the fears of their patients and breed terror across the city."
"Breed terror?" Butler asked, his voice coated in disappointed surprise. "Batwoman, you have not been listening. You think I've bred terror in my patients? No, no. Take Harvey Dent; the man watches his wife killed before his eyes, has acid splashed on his face, and I'm accused of inflicting terror? Or his niece, Duela. A teenager with insecurities about her appearance who turns toward inflicting her fears onto others? A dime a dozen in Gotham. I don't need to breed terror; it already exists. I simply tap into those fears."
"Why?"
"Because fears mean nothing, and it is only when confronted that you can choose. You can choose to succumb to those fears, or you can choose to see them for what they are: a fallacy. A voice in your head. An inconsequential figment of your imagination. It is only those who have mastered their fears that are destined to leave these walls," Butler said, nodding toward the thirty foot wall protected with a line of barb wire at the top.
"And those who don't?"
"They remain, lost. They remain my specimen. Until such a time that they are enlightened."
"You're telling me all the dozens of patients you've let loose on the city over the months have been cured because they delusionally think they've controlled their fears?"
"What better soldier than one who is afraid of nothing?"
Kate froze, unable to register the severity of Butler's admission. It wasn't that Butler was trying to cure anyone; it was that he was trying to convert them into followers of a demented line of thinking.
"Haunter would quite like you," Butler said, interrupting the panic sweeping through Kate's mind. "It is always the stubborn ones who are most exciting to watch break."
"The… the what? What are you talking ab-"
"It's a pity she won't arrive in time. She would love to watch you unravel."
"Who are y-"
"I suppose I'll do my best to describe the experience. It was naive of you to think you'd leave this unscathed."
Before Kate could react Butler's hand slipped from the handle of his briefcase. The clatter of the case on the pavement drew her eyes downward while his hand pulled the cap to cover his face, leaving his eyes glistening over the top. From her left she saw, too late, his other hand rise and a blue mist cast a haze between the two. She stepped back, but had instinctively inhaled, feeling the chemical smell sting her nostrils. It was the scent of a rainy day, sweat, and roses.
She stumbled, trying to regain her balance as a familiar shadow blanketed her vision. The edges of her sight closed around the silhouette of Butler standing before her; his eyes still gleaming back at her.
"Yes, feel it take hold."
The words echoed around her like the wind, seemingly coming from everywhere and nowhere. It was amplified by a laughter that melted into screams. She knew these screams; she'd been haunted by them for years.
Her fingers scrambled at her utility belt. A feeling of darkness and desperation caused her to fumble toward the Hamilton serum before it was too late; before her rational thought disintegrated into paralysis. Her fingers shook over the cartridge, unable to grip with any control when a shadow rammed against her body, sending her tumbling off balance. Her arms extended blindly, her depth perception clouded by the growing shroud of darkness. The ground came too soon, and she felt her lungs grunt in surprise. Her fingers frantically scratched against the hardscape but instead of the dry pavement from moments earlier, she watched pools of water grow out of the cracks. Within moments they soaked her gloves, and she realized the ground around her was sinking. The cracks widened, sending water rushing up to her gauntlets, then her elbows, then her shoulders. The sound of screams echoed over the rush of current quickly rising to submerge her.
Her heart pounded against her ribcage as the surge of water assaulted her senses. It was cold and unforgiving, and her mind quickly became disoriented between what was up and what was down. She fought for reality; she was in a parking lot, not lost in the swell of a river, but that didn't stop her instinct to take a final gasp of breath before the current's pull yanked her under. She felt her cape entangle around her, making her thrashes against the current futile. Her world spun into an endless sea of water.
Her eyes opened into the torrent of water and saw nothing but empty darkness stare back at her. The current dragged her backward, and she twisted to face her trajectory. Before she could gather her bearings, she felt the water crash her into an object. The impact was rough, and she felt a burst of precious bubbles slip from her lips in surprise.
She screwed herself around and could just make out the familiar dark silhouette of the car her hands were quickly interrogating. Another shot of adrenaline coursed through her veins as she recognized the familiar shape. Her fingers traced over the formed metal of the trunk. Her eyes narrowed as a pang of sadness gripped her. Her last memory of the car had seen it tumbling over the bridge into the river below. Had it always been here?
She glanced up and saw that the rear window was undamaged. It was then that a tiny overhead light from the interior flipped on. Kate squinted curiously through the water. She tried scaling over the trunk toward the back window. Suddenly a tiny thud echoed against the car, startling Kate and causing her to double down on her grip, nearly losing it in the process.
Another thud, and Kate caught a glimpse of the tiny hand smacking against the glass.
Beth.
Kate climbed to the top of the trunk, trying desperately to punch at the glass, but each time she did, she heard the car creak under its own weight and risk dislodging whatever invisible thing was holding it in place. She wanted to tell Beth to hold on; that she'd get her out.
She struck it once. Twice. Three times. A crack appeared against the glass, and Kate felt the flicker of hope. She lifted her arm, angling the sharp edges to strike against it just right, but before she could land the blow, she felt the car shift and break free. She desperately slipped her hands onto the metal to keep hold, but the car broke out of her grasp. The car became a silhouette in the distance, somehow accelerating at a rate faster than she was being pulled. She stretched her arms ahead in an effort to do the impossible and catch up to the car. Instead it all but disappeared, and a cry of loss called into the water but it came out as a disoriented cluster of inarticulate sounds.
She felt the world rush by, the water ripping around her now. It was only now that she felt the strain from lack of oxygen. She didn't understand how her breath hadn't run out, but she also wasn't thinking about it; she was thinking about how she'd just let her sister catapult into the depths of some unknown. Her world spun out of control, and with it came an asteroid field of debris speeding past her. Glimpses of a folded flag coming unraveled, a wounded fox, a chair caught ablaze, a field of daggers flew past her.
She could barely register them, suddenly aware of how in need of air she was. She needed to find the surface. She needed to find 'up'. A glow to her right oriented her, and her fingers gripped tightly around the familiar grappling gun. She lifted it, aiming blinding as the last molecules of oxygen were finally depleted. The recoil of the gun dragged her through the current of water around her, winding her upward and outward of the water. A rush of cool air hit her cheeks and lungs as she flew through the air and tumbled hard onto some foreign surface.
She groaned, shaking her head and opening her eyes wide to orient herself. Everything was cool and dark. The space was empty but seemed to stretch forever into darkness. Overhead was a low, cool light flooding onto her and the ground around her. It was unfamiliar and desolate except for the spring of the floor below her. She knew that anywhere, and when she blinked and squinted down at the black, bouncy vinyl of the blue gym mat beneath her, she recognized it from Jacob Kane's training room.
"Get up soldier."
Kate complied. It was automatic after years of conditioning, and she lifted herself upright to see Jacob Kane towering over her, his face cast in shadow, but she could recognize that stoic and unmoving expression anywhere. Behind his eyes she could see another notch of disappointment. He was younger, dressed in gym gear: dark sweats and shirt. His hands were concealed by hand wraps. He looked bored. Disappointed.
She lifted her arms, knowing what was coming, but they felt feeble, untrained, and uncoordinated.
"What is that form?" he growled.
Before she could reply, she felt her arms flail to fend off his attack. Instead of reacting with the swiftness years of training had produced, her movements were jerky and slow. They didn't comply with the commands, and instead of putting up a solid defense, her slothiness sent her knocked on her back.
"Pathetic. Again." The words were spat at her as she struggled to her feet.
The same unfolded again.
"Are you even trying?"
And again.
"You'll be lucky to get into the Academy on merit."
And again.
"If it weren't for my name on that application..."
She could see every attack coming, but the resistance in her untrained limbs couldn't block the well-experienced strikes in time. She stumbled backwards onto her butt again, caught in this infinite loop.
"You'll never be a Crow at this rate." The voice is older now. It sounded of gravel and judgement.
And again.
Her eyes were focused on Jacob, her arms at the ready for whatever move he had in store next when a blur from her right sent her flying across the mat, landing hard on her side.
"Again."
The words compelled her up, her attention on this newcomer clad in a dark hoodie and jeans. She pivoted toward him when a second figure appeared out of the corner of her eye.
"You're washed up at twenty two," Jacob's voice called from the edge of the pool of light, his voice dripping with disappointment. The echo of it reverberated through her mind as a third, then a fourth and fifth body appeared out of the surrounding darkness. She tried to fend them off, dodging some attacks but failing to stop others. It was endless with more and more bodies appearing out of the nothing. Some appeared more familiar than others, but one thing became clear: they were all thugs she'd fought in Gotham's darkest alleys.
They encircled her, unspeaking, but where their voices remained mute, their eyes spoke of the hatred they held for her. She watched with growing terror as they lifted their arms in unison. There were too many. She couldn't fight them all off.
"I knew you'd never amount to anything," Jacob's voice called as she fought off the first silhouette.
"It should've been you in that car," he continued as a second figure kneed her from behind.
"Worthless," he called as she fell to her knees. She rolled and sprang back up, trying to keep her assailants at a distance.
"You are lazy and undisciplined," he said when they closed in again and her arm extended up to deflect a punch only to feel an elbow in her gut. A shove to her left and a punch to her cheek sent her back onto the mat. She fought to get up but felt the weight of a boot on her back, pressing her into the mat. She felt the air squeezed out of her lungs, and she clenched her eyes shut to block out the incoming attack when suddenly… suddenly the weight was gone.
She opened her eyes, flinching at the unexpected sunlight glaring back at her. Kate lifted a hand to shield the light, blinking to adjust to this new world. The fingers of her other hand brushed against a sandy gravel she hadn't seen in years. It was unremarkable in color and shape, but she would know it anywhere: it was the gravel that made up the path that cut through Point Rock's campus. Her arms came into focus, bare of any tattoos and clad in the unforgettable khaki of her cadet uniform.
She heard the footsteps of two forms approaching before she saw them. A hazy film blurred the figures into shadows under the burning sun. She could see both approaching, side by side, when one halted steps away, surveying from a distance. The second didn't stop, and she felt the shadow cast on her as it bent low to stare at her.
"What do you think, sir?"
"No," Kate muttered. She knew that voice. It cut through the air with a coldness she'd experienced only once before. "no, no, n-"
The boots came into focus before anything else. She blinked again and could make out the crisp features of judging appraisal stare down at her. She flinched. She wanted to return to the river; to the cold clutches of it. She wanted to be back under the scrutinizing gaze of Jacob. She wanted to feel the angry fists of Gotham's thugs hitting her. She wanted to be anywhere else, because anywhere would be better than under the look of contempt coming from Sophie Moore.
"A disappointment. The plebe is yours; see if you can do anything about it."
The shadow of Jacob disappeared, and Kate's voice caught in her throat.
This wasn't real.
"What are you still doing here?" Sophie hissed the words. "I thought I made myself clear."
"I-I know, I-"
This wasn't Sophie.
"You think you can just ruin my future? I've worked too hard to get here." Her voice carried the angry authority of a drill sergeant. It began low, growing in volume and ferocity into a biting tone that made Kate flinch with each syllable.
The words struck like venom.
"How selfish can you possibly be not to see that? Not to see that you've spent four years making me your plaything, your pawn in the story of Kate Kane's life?"
Engaging would only make it worse.
"You are deceptive," she spat. "You are a liar. You've only ever thought of yourself."
Kate knew this. It would pass. It always did.
"I don't love you. I can't believe I ever loved you."
It would pass, yes, but that didn't stop the well of regret and self-hatred from turning her eyes moist. She just needed to wait for it to pass.
"And who could? You ruin everything you touch; your judgement is clouded by your own narcissism. You already chose your life over Beth's. And now you want me to choose your life over mine?"
"I know." the whisper escaped Kate's lips before she could stop it. A lone tear signalling the defeat she felt fell. It was hot with anger and regret. It rolled down her cheek as the crushing weight of failure kept her on her knees. She felt the presence of Sophie step closer and crouch to her eye level.
"You let them die," Sophie said, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. It dripped with animosity; her eyes glowed with pleasure at the pain falling freely down Kate's cheeks.
"I didn't mean to-"
"You ruined your family. You ruined us. You are an unlovable coward. No matter what you do, who you save, or how much you try to run from it, you can't get away from who you are, Kate," Sophie said. "Deep down you are nothing."
"Tell me Batwoman, who haunts you?"
The voice called from over Sophie's shoulder. A sob escaped Kate's lips. How had the voice found her? She was hundreds of miles away.
"No," Kate whispered.
"Who is it?"
"No one," Kate croaked again.
She felt the mist of a spray hit her cheeks, and she inhaled the sweet scent of lilac mixed with freshly cut grass and waffles.
Instantly Sophie's skin paled. Her eyes faded to a pale blue while her tightly bound ponytail morphed into a cropped cut of curls dyed an unfamiliar shade of red. Her skin aged, the wrinkles falling tightly over high cheekbones exacerbated by a full mouthed-smile. A cackle ripped through her dark-painted lips and removed any recognition of Sophie from the moment earlier
Kate shook herself, staring up in confusion.
"Come now, Batwoman, you're not playing the game," the woman crooned mockingly.
"I'm not… who-who are you?" Kate asked. She gulped down lungfuls of air, but her heart continued to beat against her ribcage. She had no idea how much time had passed. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Everywhere was dark, but not because she was under the night's sky: she was in an enclosed space. It was small and hot with summer heat. She could just barely make out the traces of street lights through the cracks of the wood slats, but there was no evidence of traffic or city noise. She caught the shadow of Butler lurking feet away but her primary focus was on the new woman in front of her. Her orange jumpsuit clashed horribly with the red of her hair.
"You've not answered my question, so why should I answer yours?" the woman leered down at Kate, her hands on her hips scrutinizing the disoriented vigilante at her feet. "Randolph, darling, how long?"
"Another ten seconds yet," came Butler's voice from behind the woman.
"Delia?" Kate asked, trying to shakily get to her feet.
"Kate? I-" the sound of Luke's voice called through her ears. Had she unmuted the comms? When?
"I wouldn't get up if I were you. This isn't over," the woman said sweetly.
"Five, four-"
"Kate, listen, this isn't worth it. I'm going to-"
"No, wait," Kate said, her voice hoarse, "what's-"
"Don't fight it, Batwoman."
The world around her shifted again, spinning her into delirium. The walls broke away and the sky closed over to reveal an exposed concrete structure. It was lined with a maze of utility pipes and out of the corner of her eye she made out the rainbow flag hung in one of the windows. It was The Hold Up.
She waited, her stance prepared for some unknown attack, but nothing happened. She spun around, scanning for something amiss. She shook her head. It wasn't real. None of this was real. She just needed to get the antidote and back to that woman. Her hand reached for her utility belt and discovered it was gone. In its place was a belt loop.
A sense of dread hit her. She could think. She had control of her thoughts; she knew this was fake. She needed to get Butler to confess. She needed to find out who that woman was. She knew this, but then why-? The sound of a chime at the door pulled Kate from her thoughts.
"Hey, you."
Kate went rigid. Fear kept her facing away from the sound of footsteps approaching behind her.
This wasn't real.
She felt a pair of arms gently wrap around her waist from behind, pulling her into a close, warm embrace. It's an embrace she hadn't felt in years.
"I was just thinking about you." The soft whisper tickled Kate's ear, and she felt her pulse quicken. "I thought you and your alter ego were on duty tonight."
"I… I…" Kate couldn't formulate thoughts, her mind racing with confusion.
"Kate? Is everything ok?"
Kate felt the arms release and heard footsteps circle to face her. Instinctively her eyelids clenched shut, afraid what it would mean to open them.
"Babe." It was that playful tone. It was her. But it wasn't her. It couldn't be her.
Kate opened her eyes to see a smirk dancing across the face in front of her, but it didn't reach the set of brown eyes staring intently back at her. Those were tainted with concern. Real concern.
This was Sophie.
"If you scowl any harder I'm going to start thinking I'm the problem," Sophie snickered, entwining her arms around Kate's rigid frame. Kate's own arms remained limp at her side, unable to process what was happening. "Does this mean I can have you all to myself tonight?"
"Y-yea."
Kate didn't know what compelled her to answer that way. It was automatic, and she wanted to claw the words back the moment the sound was uttered. Something wasn't right. This wasn't real… was it?
"Good, because I still have half a dozen boxes at my place. If I'm going to make it out by midnight I need a hand."
"Out by… what?"
"My lease? It's up tonight, or did you forget again?"
"I… where… wh-what?"
Sophie's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Look, if you're getting cold feet that's ok; Mary offered her place before, and I'm sure we can-"
"You're… we're… we're moving in together?"
Sophie's eyebrow cocked in confusion before her eyes rolled in mock annoyance. "You know you don't always need to be sarcastic, right?"
"Creature of habit," Kate muttered, and a smirk crept over her face at the warm smile that followed from Sophie. She felt Sophie's arms squeeze her teasingly, and Kate felt her own arms lift automatically to embrace Sophie. The soft scent of lilac felt familiar; felt real.
"Yea, well, lucky for you that's just one of the many reasons I love you," Sophie said quietly as her lips grazed a breath away from Kate's. Kate felt her eyes close in anticipation before a teasing chuckle sent them back open.
She blinked in confusion, her eyes taking in a new set of surroundings. She was no longer in the dingy bar; instead she was standing alone in an apartment… an unfurnished apartment. It was practically empty, the walls barren with only a few tacs and soft silhouettes remaining from where frames once hung.
"Think fast," called Sophie's voice from what Kate could only assume was the kitchen. The voice startled her, but not nearly as much as the flying glass bottle catapulted toward her. Her hands instinctively reached out to snag it before it crashed into the wall behind her. "Good catch," she smirked from the threshold.
"You just threw a bottle at me."
"Yea, thought we might have a final celebratory drink before I say goodbye to this place for good."
"You just threw a glass bottle at me," Kate gawked, finally placing why the space looked so familiar: she had been here once before. Or had it been more?
"Oh, hush, you were always going to catch it. It's the good stuff," Sophie continued, crossing the empty room with two glasses. Kate scowled down at the label and realized it was etched with the familiar Islay distillery.
"Cheers," Sophie said, handing Kate a glass of the caramel liquid.
"Wait, but I didn't…" Kate glanced at the still capped bottle in her hands.
"What's that?" Sophie asked, her head cocked to the side in curiosity as Kate's hand lifted to receive the glass.
"Uh, nothing… cheers."
"Five years late, but better than never, right?" Sophie smirked, the clink of glasses echoing off the walls.
"Right," Kate said, her reservations melting into a smile as she lifted the glass up to her lips.
When she lowered it a glare of light made her blink confusingly. She tried to lift a hand to shield her eyes but realized both were occupied with a large cardboard box.
"Oy, this is heavy," came Sophie's voice from behind her, a cardboard box nudging her forward.
"Oh, sorry," Kate said, shuffling away from the entrance and out of the glare of the sunset to let Sophie pass. She surveyed her surroundings: it was her flat just as she had seen it earlier that day. Except it wasn't… or was it? A scattering of cardboard boxes everywhere suggested a very in-progress move was underway. The sides were all labelled with their contents from Sophie's apartment, and some were clearly already half unpacked. Kate scanned the mess and recognized a number of belongings that had stayed with Sophie from school: a frame photo of her parents, a Point Rock sweatshirt, a-
"What? No, no, that is not coming in here," Kate scowled, walking over to a pillow with daisies cross stitched across the fabric. She swiped it up, waving its appalling shade of pink in the air.
"What? No way. We agreed: you get to be Batwoman without me pestering you every ten minutes if I get to keep that pillow."
Kate's eyes bounced from the pillow to Sophie. "Are you serious?"
"Yes," Sophie sighed exasperatedly, dropping the box next to the stack of others.
"Was I drunk when I agreed to this? Or drugged?"
"No… but maybe a bit preoccupied with a mugger?" Sophie replied, her eyes glancing upward to recall.
"I want to renegotiate."
"How about this," Sophie said, closing the distance between them. "I get to keep the pillow," she said, plucking it from Kate's hand and tossing it aside. Her hands fell onto Kate's shoulders and her lips settled against her neck, "and you... get to decide... what we do tonight," she said between kisses.
"I…" Kate stammered, feeling a flush of arousal disable her brain from coherent thought.
"Going once."
"It… it seems like…"
"Going twice."
"Deal," Kate choked out.
"Good answer," Sophie whispered, trying to keep her voice low and sensual while concealing her obvious smirk of satisfaction.
"Mhmm," Kate said, blinking away the blinding red tainting her vision.
When she did she felt a scowl of confusion furrow at her brow: The lighting had altered. Instead of a sunset, the windows were cloaked in darkness. Lamps provided a low but intimate illumination of the interior space which contrasted the brightness from moments before.
"What is it?" Sophie asked, pulling away from Kate.
"I… wasn't it just day time?" Kate asked, nodding toward the wall of glazing.
Sophie chuckled. "I think that's how time works."
"Yea, but…" Kate's scowl deepened. She glanced around feeling like something obvious was missing. The boxes she remembered from moments earlier were unpacked and collapsed into a pile at the door. The smell of Chinese lingered in the air, and boxes littered the kitchen counter. Next to that was a half empty bottle of wine and the remaining dredges in two glasses.
"Kate," Sophie said, pulling Kate's attention back toward Sophie. "You've been working like crazy lately. And I don't just mean with the Batwoman stuff. Stop thinking so hard and just relax. I can see your brain overheating; that's my job, remember?"
Kate stared into Sophie's eyes and saw nothing but love. She felt Sophie lean in and capture her lips. The scent of lilac and taste of Sophie's lips flooded her with nostalgia.
Nostalgia. It hit her like a ton of bricks.
Because this wasn't real.
This was fake.
Kate was supposed to be afraid; her greatest fears were supposed to be on full display and yet… yet everything was perfect. This was a world she'd only dreamed of. A world where Sophie and Batwoman could exist. This wasn't a world where-
She felt Sophie flinch against her and a muffled cry of surprise broke against Kate's lips. Kate felt Sophie's body go rigid, and she ripped her lips from Sophie in confusion. Her field of vision was narrowed onto Sophie's face, and she saw her eyes wide and her face contorted in… confusion? In surprise? No… in pain.
"Wh-?" The sound of Kate's half-spoken word hung in the air as she interrogated the look on her face with a growing panic. The lighting only disoriented matters more, and Kate struggled to understand what had happened when she watched Sophie bring her shaking hands to her chest. The reflection caught Kate's eye first, and she stared, dumbfounded and in shock as Sophie's fingers floated confusedly over a metallic form protruding from her quickly redding shirt. Kate's breath caught in her throat.
"No… n-no, no," she muttered, panic and fear sending her body trembling as Sophie stumbled backwards.
"Kate," she coughed, her lips stained with the same red as her shirt. Her fingers closed around the piece of metal, and Kate nearly fainted with nausea as Sophie's fingers gripped at the piece of metal ripped it free from her chest. Betrayal filled her eyes as she took in the silhouette of a bat clutched in her hand.
"Why?" She whispered weakly, falling to her knees. Kate followed her, extending her arms to catch Sophie from crashing onto the floor. She pulled Sophie to her, cradling her through attempted whispers of reassurance.
"Soph, wait," she mumbled, unable to comprehend what was happening. The only thing racing through her mind was a need to stop the bleeding. She felt it pool around her, soaking into her own clothes and dripping onto her hands. "It'll be ok."
"K-kate, why?" Sophie asked again, her face ghostly and rid of expression. Her fingers gripped the batarang in her hand, the sharp edges placing fresh cuts against Sophie's skin.
"Soph, no, no… I - I didn't-"
"Yes you did."
The voice jolted Kate's attention away from Sophie and toward the wall of glass on the other side of the flat. She squinted, feeling a chill of fear that began at the back of her neck and stretched to infect every part of being as her eyes landed on the familiar red-haired cowl.
"Wh-who are you?" Kate asked, unable to rip her eyes from the gaze staring back at her; it was the same piercing green she saw every time she looked in the mirror.
"Kate…" Sophie exhaled weakly.
"It's ok… it's… you're gonna be ok," Kate whispered, her voice shaking uncontrollably. The pool of blood around her had doubled, becoming an impossible amount. She felt her body rack with the first sob as Sophie's body fell limp. The muted clatter of the batarang slipped from her grip and into the dark liquid surrounding them. "Soph, please, don't go… don't go."
She clenched her eyes shut, hoping time would shift again; that this dream would end. Instead the scene remained. The void of Sophie's eyes stared blankly back at her.
"You chose this."
The voice from the windows spoke again. The modulation didn't conceal the familiarity of it, and Kate felt an anger grow. "No I didn't."
"You chose her death."
"Why would I? Why would… I wouldn't" Kate stammered, blinded by a rage building inside her. "You… you killed her. You did this."
"Are we so different, you and I?" the caped vigilante said, crossing the room toward her.
Kate felt a panic grow. She wasn't this. This wasn't her.
"I don't kill. I would never…" The first tear rolled down her cheek.
This was fraud, a sham. This intruder had broken in and stolen the one thing that mattered to her. Her eyes frantically scoured her surroundings for something, anything to make this imposter pay for hurting… for killing Sophie. She glanced back down at the blood stained shirt under her fingers and saw a holster fastened to Sophie's waist. Kate immediately recognized the rail gun fitted in it. She didn't care how it got there. She didn't care that it wasn't there moments earlier. She didn't care that she wasn't supposed to kill. All she cared about was that Sophie was gone. Her fingers wrapped around the cool metal's body, lifting it toward the intruder.
She watched this trespassing version of Batwoman's mouth curl into a smirk of challenge, pausing feet away. Kate could barely see past the tears spilling from her cheeks, but her eyes honed in on the red symbol that marked her chest.
"Not so different after all… Tell me, who haunts you?" the Batwoman asked.
"No," Kate whispered.
Her finger flexed around the trigger, sending a blast of light toward the smiling form. Time froze for a moment, and Kate watched an expression of shock etch itself across Batwoman's face before melting into a malicious grin.
"You chose this," Batwoman choked before crumpling to the ground.
Kate's arm fell, exhausted. She had watched her suit collapse before her eyes, but she didn't feel vindicated. She felt empty; hopeless. The sound of the gun rattling against the floor was overpowered by the sobs coming from her chest. She looked down at Sophie, begging for a second chance. Her hands shook, reaching toward the stillness of the love of her life. This couldn't be the end. She wanted a redo. She could fix it if she just had the chance.
"Tell me…"
"No," Kate cried. She pulled Sophie to her, afraid to let her go. Afraid of a life without her in it.
It was in the midst of this bargaining - this pleading - that she felt the first drip of warmth flow down her own shirt. A sudden stab of pain shot through her chest, the shock of the moment fading and replaced by the swell of pain gripping at her. Her fingers crawled up the quickly wetting fabric toward the ache. It was hot and sticky, and she flinched when her eyes located the wound. A shot of adrenaline cut through her in realization. She looked up, startled, to find the other Batwoman's body was gone. Disappeared without a trace.
Kate blinked, trying to make sense of it, denying the truth clawing at the edge of her mind. She felt her world fade, the edges of grey clawing for her and a truth find its way to the surface.
"Tell me Batwoman," came the voice again. "Who haunts you?"
"I-I do," she whispered back into the darkness.
a/n: Well this turned into a behemoth of a chapter. It was heavy to write. I hope it wasn't too heavy to read.
If you're reading the Point Rock stories in parallel, this is quite the contrast to that latest installment. Yin and yang, I suppose? I don't think this is anywhere near perfect, and I know it's one I'll tinker with over time, but if I spend another minute on it in the short term I'll go positively bonkers.
Thanks to everyone for sticking with this story - it's a joy to know there is still an interest in this lil buddy trekking along.