Kind of lost momentum there, sorry. We're coming on a part of the story where things just kind of go sideways with very little build up or explanation, so it's a pretty large chunk of plot I'm having to re-work. Anyway, here's two chapters.

~Penny

Crane had intended to grind all the through to Cleveland before taking a break, but the restless sleep from the last few night caught up with him. They checked into another motel off the freeway.

He contemplated the use of the handcuffs in his duffel. Just a little insurance for while he slept, but thinking about it now, such a sign of distrust practically screamed "You can walk out the door anytime - I'd be nearly powerless to prevent it!". Perhaps he would just try to sleep lightly until they reached the lake house, and the handcuffs would be the last-ditch option.

At the very least, they didn't appear useful just yet. Evie flopped on the bed immediately after stepping in. "How am I still so tired?"

"Your body is still in recovery." He kept the answer purposely short - she had reacted so simply to the ordeal he had subjected her to that morning, but he was concerned that if he brought much more attention to it, it would turn her attitude toward resentment.

"7." She nodded sleepily, shucking off her shoes and burrowing under the covers. You would have thought the day went fine - no brush with death, no disastrous road trip conversation.

Crane climbed into bed with her, but put off sleep a while longer, despite exhaustion, gently running the blade of his finger along the scratches on her neck. He closed his eyes to recall the scene - all panic and gasping, claws and blood. They were ugly and scabbed now, but for a moment, when he opened his eyes again, they appeared to briefly glow red, pulsating with color against her skin, and shivered. He had forgotten what that felt like. There was a time in his life where every single day had the opportunity to feel like that, before the wards, and the cells, and the years of solitude.

Those demons had been asleep for a very long time.

He still wasn't much for talking, but it wasn't like Crane had been such a chatty Cathy with her back in Gotham anyway. It just made things even more boring now. There were no books or movies, playing the piano or writing. There was an MP3 of folksy, indie music in the glovebox, but there was no charger for it in the SUV, and the battery was starting to wear down.

Of course, limiting their interactions down to stark monologues and clipped sentences between subjections to harrowing experiences had been very purposeful. Crane wanted her to continue to regard him as clever, dangerous, and terrifying, and that required a lot of mystery - not regaling her with personal life anecdotes.

He used to be sure at least one of them would die in Bane's carefully orchestrated finale. Now, despite Evie's concerns of an elaborate murder, Crane felt as though he was staring down a potential lifetime with her. That would be a lot of time and effort on "mystery upkeep". He wanted to be able to let his guard down at least some of the time.

Crane glanced over at her again. Evie's forehead rested against the window eyes glazed over, clearly elsewhere. Every so often, she would reach a hand up, only to slowly put it back down. Playing with her hair must have been a habit of hers while daydreaming.

It would be up to him to start a conversation. Crane cleared his throat, earning only a slight reaction. "I'm from Georgia."

"What?" Evie finally snapped out of her thoughts. "What?"

"Georgia. I am from there." He repeated.

"Oh." She looked confused, then surprised, then unsure. Was this a real invitation for personal insight, or just some weird, mental trick? "Where's your accent?"

"Accents aren't that hard to lose." Especially when you you're motivated to re-invent yourself.

"Hm." Evie still couldn't get a read on the vibe from this, whether he actually wanted her to press on. "What's your hometown like?"

"Uh...It's pretty much all fields. Not much to do besides farming, or vandalizing other peoples farms. That's the only fun you can make out in no where, really."

"Aren't we moving out to no where?"

"Sort of, but it'll be...different." Where they were going wasn't full of hicks and religious fanatics. No decrepit chapels full of foul creatures and torment.

His hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Evie noticed the jaw clench and fell silent again. Seemed like that would be it for now. She pulled out the MP3, figuring the hipster music and beeping reminders of its waning battery would be more pleasant than suffering in their continued, stuffy silence.

The sun set behind them, and not long after, Crane pulled off the road and into a diner on the outskirts of Gary, Indiana.

"Finally." She was getting sick of fast food and skipping chances to stretch. Evie shoved the music player into her pocket and beelined for the restroom as soon as they were sat down.

Shortly after, Crane noticed almost everyone in the place was huddled around a TV on the far side of the counter. He didn't think much of it, at first, until he heard "Gotham". The group fixating on the story had grown deathly silent. Bombs must have gone off. Curious about the final fate of his old stomping ground, and with Evie still gone for the moment, he stood up to join the crowd.

"-still gathering more information, but as of now, it appears Gotham is safe."

Not exactly what he expected, but it wasn't his plan failure. "What happened?"

"The Batman just saved Gotham, that's what." A man answered back.

Crane's eyes narrowed. "He's back?"

"Was." Another person corrected. "He flew the bomb out over the Atlantic. Went 'boom' along with it."

That was comforting. He would honestly have felt a little put out if his best nemesis had returned just as he was going off to play house across the country. Crane returned his focus to the TV.

"As the city begins its longs struggle after several months under dictatorship of the

terrorist called Bane, the re-established GCPD has stated their biggest priority with be recovering the mass released convicts of Blackgate Penitentiary. Hundreds have already been apprehended by the rallied policemen and citizens in a staged riot at the Gotham City Courthouse following Bane's assassination, but they expect it will be weeks or even months before a comprehensive list of living, at-large criminals is made known. Until such time, Gotham, the State of New Jersey, as well as surrounding states of New York, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Maryland, will be enforcing random checkpoints and border block-aids to hinder escape attempts. Another priority is to take account of missing persons. Already there have been hundreds reported-"

Batman - dead. Bane - dead. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. All his life, he had never been so lucky. Never been the recipient of such dumb, good fortune. Crane walked back to the table, heart pounding, the rush of blood deafening in his ears. Evie finally emerged from the bathroom, but paused for the longest time before rejoining him.

"Why are you smiling like that?" Crane had always been more the sly, smirking type - not a goofy grin type. It felt wrong somehow, instantly putting her on edge.

He simply shook his head. "It's nothing". She could find out later.