yay for having a relatively slow weekend, as that'll let me finish up this story. last two chapters now posted! thank you for the reviews & to all those who have read & stuck with this story. it means a lot.

hope you enjoy these last two!

disclaimer: nothing is still mine ( i supposed i can't even claim the circuits book since i didn't write it, even though i paid an arm & a leg for it)

Chapter 14: The taste of your lips

Prison wasn't so bad. After all, it had only been one day. Ev had been pacing the small cell, not even caring to stop her compulsion, even though she wasn't obsessing…too much.

20-30 years. Convicted all on her ID badge and her true lack of knowledge about any 'secret plans'. No trial, no nothing. Just an insanely large bail that no one in their right mind would pay.

So she'd been resigning herself to it. What else could she do? No one to call….which actually made it work since no one would miss her for the next 20 to 30 years.

Of course she'd thought of Bruce. But then again…Bruce, as Batman, had been the one to throw her in jail to begin with. And that last look in his eyes burned in her memory—just a blind rage at the world. But why throw her in jail…why not just let her go? She couldn't figure it out and it was gnawing away at her.

Perhaps that lack of understanding was what had caused her earlier outburst. As soon as she'd been freed from handcuffs the first time around, she had, without fully realizing it, attacked a guard…not that she'd actually done any damage. Well that had only resulted in a higher bail, no daily release from her cell, and constant time in handcuffs.

At least they gave her a cell with a view. If she pressed close enough to the bars, she could almost see the activity on the main level. And Ev hated it—every inch of it.

And soon enough, without medication, the dysthymia would set back in and she'd hate herself. In 20 to 30 years, the suicidal tendencies she'd been warned about could be a strong reality.

She'd always heard that instead of habilitation, prisons specialized in irreversible, life changing downslides. She sighed deeply, almost terrified, as she realized she would be no exception.

Ev turned at the sudden sound of the big door at the end of the block grinding open.

"Werren, Evelyn." A burly guard called gruffly as she looked up, dark surprise, wariness, and resentment in her fixed gaze. "You've a meeting." The guard undid the lock as the cell door slid open. Almost reluctantly, she walked towards the guard, who immediately wrapped a hand tightly around her upper arm.

The big door groaned to a sealed shut behind them as the guard kept his death grip and death glare fixed on her.

"Wait here." He pulled open the door to a small barren room containing only a table and two chairs. It looked like a scene out of any police movie, and she began to wonder what she had been dragged here for. A more rigorous investigation of the real research done at Arkham? Prying for information on Jonathon Crane? Or was it only to reveal a more harsh punishment?

Again, compulsively, she'd taken to pacing the floor, her cuffed hands hanging limply in front of her. No sooner had the soft click of the door handle reached her ears did she spin around, most eager to see her visitor. In one moment, every defense fell, and she honestly didn't know what to think. She knew those eyes all too well.

"You look terrible." Bruce commented caringly. She lifted her stone gaze to him, unsure what to say.

"I'm surprised you care." She said coldly, not knowing what to think about the man before her—remembering the look in his eyes that night.

"Don't start that again. I wouldn't be here if I didn't." He scolded. She huffed darkly at the absurdity of it.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't be in jail if you did." She said pointedly.

"You wouldn't be, if I didn't." She shook her head, staring at him expectantly.

"Enough," she said, her voice sharp, "why did you put me here? You know I'm not involved."

"I didn't put you here," he firmly said, "if you had just left—as you promised me you would—it would never have been an issue." He met her eyes, disappointment lingering in his.

"Yes, well," she said dismissively, turning from his burning gaze, "can't go anywhere now, can I?" She raised her cuffed hands.

"Actually, you can." He said softly, a lightness in his voice as he met her confused gaze. "You made bail." A softened expression still mixed with confusion and uncertainty spread across her worn face.

"But why? You stuck me—" she paused, reconsidering her words, not willing to loop the conversation, "I was stuck in here, so why would you release me?"

"It was the only way to keep you safe at the time."

"Safe? Putting me in jail?" She questioned pointedly.

"Safe from what your father warned you about," Bruce said scolding, "you should have left Gotham…and not lied." She went to cross her arms, but found the handcuffs to be such a hindrance. She turned around and faced that expecting look in his dark eyes. She sighed, staring down at the floor. Suddenly she found herself pacing small circles before realizing it.

"Stop it Evelyn," she hissed under her breath, sighing deeply before turning back to Bruce, fighting to keep her feet firmly in place, "you're waiting for an apology aren't you…," she said weakly, "I know…I shouldn't have lied. But I couldn't leave, and I didn't want to leave."

"Rather selfish isn't it?"

"Oh and you're not," she spat back, "you wanted me gone too…conveniently enough after we spent that second night together. You didn't know what the letter was about…but it was asking me to leave, so you supported it…just so I wouldn't be in your life any more…mucking up your thoughts." She trailed off downheartedly as Bruce looked at her in disbelief.

"What ever made you think that?"

"Just how…one night you were open and forthcoming, and then we ended everything. Yet you showed back up—not that I regret it in the slightest—and suddenly everything is so vague," she paused, trying to understand what she herself was saying, "I didn't feel like I knew you any more that morning."

"I couldn't be sure either," he admitted almost regretfully, "I knew what your father's friend was capable—or actually, I didn't, and that's what had me worried….I knew of his ideas of societies deserving justice. And I couldn't help but feel that was what the letter was warning you of. Sure enough, he came and attempted to destroy Gotham. That's why he wanted you out of the city."

"My father?" Ev sharply questioned.

"Henri Ducard was actually Ra's Al Ghul." She knew that name—the guards had even filled her on the water vaporizer, the subway train wreck, the charred, though somehow identifiable, remains.

"You lie." She spat.

"I wish to God I wasn't," he said, his voice strained, "he was my mentor—saved me from myself. But we had a falling out—I saved his life and left him with a rural Chinese family, believing he would disappear. I was wrong—he came back and he died because of it." Suddenly she looked up at Bruce in disbelief.

"You didn't…did you?" She asked, her voice threatening to break as she swallowed nervously.

"No," he shook his head solemnly, "but I didn't save him." She slumped into a chair, her trembling breaths filling the air, unable to believe her father had connections to such a man. That she had connections to such a man. No wonder she was so screwed up to begin with.

Bruce moved silently behind her, resting his hands comfortingly on her shoulders, offering her what comfort he could. He wasn't about to apologize for whatever reason—his actions had been justified as the right thing to do for the greater good. A simple utilitarian principal, and if Ev would hate him for the rest of her natural life for it…so be it.

"Why do we keep doing this?" She suddenly softly asked, a genuine curiosity in her voice.

"Doing what?"

"Telling ourselves it's the end, then coming back together again?"

"Well we didn't officially end it a second time," he gently suggested, as he leaned against the table edge, meeting her eyes, "or maybe we don't want to believe that I love you." He heard himself say as her head questioningly shot up.

"And that…what?…I love you?" She gently asked in return, the answer written deep in her eyes.

"Possibly." He said indifferently. She shook her head, smiling uncertainly. Before she knew it, her lips were against his, emotion of all sorts pouring between them. This had to be it—had to be real. What else could it be? She pulled her lips back and leaned against him, unable to imagine not having seen him.

"Don't get too comfortable—you need to leave Gotham pretty soon." He suddenly said, catching her by surprise. She looked up at him questioningly, amusement hidden in her eyes.

"Wait…if Ra's Al Ghul is dead, why must I still leave Gotham?" She asked, eyeing him wearily, beginning to doubt his sincerity all over again.

"Jonathon Crane escaped that night. You're the only contact we know he has."

"Then without doubt I'll leave Gotham."

"Good girl." He smiled as they headed for the door.

"But could you get them to remove the handcuffs? I promise not to hit any more guards."

onwards to next chapter & epilogue...