The Wendigo and The Lionheart: Chapter 5
Fandom: Gotham
Pairing: Bruce/Selina
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Selina
The dog days of summer had blanketed the normally gloomy city in a cloud of humidity and heat. The temperature had had the normally putrid smells and foul tempers of Gotham set on high and Selina had felt the need to escape the concrete jungle. She could've gone on foot, trudged her way through the streets and across the bridge, but where would have been the fun in that?
"Whose car is this?" the boy whispered, his dark eyes scanning the hood of the small silver sports car.
"Does it matter," she answered, pulling her door open and gesturing for him to do the same. Putting the key into the ignition, she sighed as her eyes met an empty seat.
Lowering the passenger side window she looked at him. When she'd chosen to park outside the brick fence that bordered his front lawn, she'd only been thinking of not alerting the Old Man, but watching his dark eyes drifting to the trees above them and his shoulders hunch almost beneath his ears at a series of tiny squeaks. She realized that this entire thing might not have been one of her better ideas.
It had taken her nearly two hours to convince him to sneak away with her and still she could feel his trepidation.
"Look kid," she hissed. "If you're really that scared…" She paused, watching his shoulders square under his navy jacket. "Then just go back in your castle and do whatever it is that little princes do on a Saturday night. Honestly, I'm not even sure I-"
She didn't finish her thought, her lips too busy smirking as she watched the car door open and the young billionaire slide into the empty seat. He looked uncomfortable, his dark grey knees butting against the low dashboard as he reached behind him to grab the seatbelt.
"It's not a castle," he said, clicking the buckle into place. "It's Tuesday and I would appreciate if you stopped calling me kid."
"Whatever," she teased. Casually she reached over, trying to ignore the pleasant smell that always seemed to cling to him, and fingered the small lever beneath the seat, satisfied at his tiny gasp of surprise when it quickly slid back.
"Better?" she asked, turning the key.
He nodded his head, his lips curling in a way that always caused a little fluttering in her belly. Ignoring the sensation, she clicked on the radio.
She looked over as she accelerated, both hands clutching the wheel as she took another turn. She could see his hands against the dashboard, bracing for anything. She wanted to tell him not to do that. She wanted to say that if they wrecked, he'd likely break both those dainty little wrists of his. But one look at the lopsided grin on his face and she felt numb. His eyes betrayed his excitement. His breathing was matching her own as she took another curve, her foot nowhere near the brake. She didn't know how, but she knew this would be something he'd like.
"Wanna try?" she asked.
"No, thank you," he answered, he shivered for only a moment as if he was getting his clothes in order. "Who-who taught you to drive?"
She shrugged. "This guy I know."
"Was it Detective Gordon?"
She glanced in the rearview mirror more out of habit than concern. She didn't particularly like talking about Gordon or Barbara and he knew that. She'd tried to stay out of their business but she couldn't seem to keep them out of hers. She'd thought she'd made herself pretty clear about that.
"Maybe," she answered, lowering her hands along the wheel.
"You drive like him," he replied, as if he didn't hear the finality in her voice.
"I do," she smirked, trying to keep the snicker from her voice. "How can you tell?"
"I've had to travel with him a few times," he said, one hand lowering to his thigh. "You both take advantage of your superior reflexes and situational awareness."
She eased off the gas as her eyes left the road to glance at him. Sometimes, she really hated how well he saw her.
"Whatever weirdo," she said, shaking her head as her eyes stared ahead. "If you didn't want a turn you just had to say so."
They'd nearly made it to the end of the nameless road that led to Wayne Manor or 'billionaire boulevard' as she preferred to call the creepy snake like drive when she felt the boy stirring in the seat beside her.
Reaching over and adjusting the volume, she glanced beside her and felt her temper rise as the music lowered. His teeth were nibbling his bottom lip, a habit he usual only showed when he was extremely nervous.
"What is it?" she asked, dryly. Her eyes scanning the road ahead of them.
"Where are we going?" he asked, wiping his hands on his knees before clasping them in his lap.
"Nowhere, in particular," she answered, her eyes scanning the road ahead. "I don't know why you're so scared," she continued, resting her elbow against the door. "I'm a phenomenal driver."
"I'm not arguing that," he explained.
"So, what's the problem," she asked, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter.
"Whose car is this?" he asked, his head turned in her direction.
"Why do you care?" she asked, countering his confidence with agitation.
"Did you steal it?" he accused, his far hand on the dashboard.
She sighed, glancing in the rearview mirror. The road was empty behind them, no street lights, just trees and darkness. She should've known the boy wasn't going to drop it. He never dropped anything.
"Define steal," she said, slowly pressing the gas pedal.
He didn't react to her facetious reply and she felt a sense of disappointment.
"I borrowed it, okay?" she admitted, both her hands on the wheel as she barely slowed and turned off the major road onto something more exciting. The roads outside the city tended to be all darkness, curves, and completely empty.
"From who," he continued.
"A friend," she said, vaguely.
A strange ring suddenly interrupted whatever he was about to say and Selina would've been grateful had it not been the phone that sat between the two bucket seats. Biting her lip, she looked back at the road ahead of them. She knew who was calling; she just didn't want to deal with them at the moment.
"Ugh," she said, quickly double pushing the button that she hoped turned it off.
"Who was that?" he demanded, looking down at the car phone between them.
"No one to you," she answered, her eyes moving back to the road.
"Your 'friend' finally notice that his car is missing?" he asked, that self-righteous note to his voice that tended to put her teeth on edge.
"Pretty sexist to assume it's a dude, B," she said, feeling herself smirk as she took a curve without braking.
It rang again, and she swore beneath her breath, but by the way the boy stiffened she assumed he heard her. Resigning herself, she let out a deep sigh as she turned the music off and pushed the small button.
"Hey, Babs," she cooed, hoping that her voice sounded soothing and playful.
"Selina?" a female voice asked, concern lacing her words. "Are you okay?"
"Just peachy," she answered, feeling a small sense of relief and a touch of something else at her tone.
"Where are you?"
She eased her foot onto the brake and could feel her cheeks warming as dark eyes watched her from the passenger seat.
"Around," she answered.
"Okay, let me rephrase that," said the gentle voice. "Where in the hell is my car?"
Her eyes widened at the sudden anger in Barbra's voice.
"It's fine. I-I left you a note," she answered, trying to sound nonchalant but she could feel her face beginning to burn. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with Bruce Wayne around.
"Yes," the voice sighed. "I read the note… And so did Jim."
Selina swore a blue-streak and ignored the angry boy beside her as her eyes scanned the road ahead of her to find a decent place to pull a U-turn.
She was jostled from her memory as her body slammed her against the metal corner of the truck. She clenched her teeth as pain streaked through her and the truck bounced again as the driver hit another pot hole. Her left eye burned, the flesh around it having swollen so bad she could barely see from it anymore.
That was why she had closed her eyes.
That was how she'd drifted off into another memory.
Shivering, she decided she'd be mad at herself later. Later, when she was clean and dry and full and could process more than the cold burning through her clothes. She pushed herself against the cab of the truck, the metal was frozen, but if she sat against it at the right angle she could cut the wind. It was taking her more than a moment to get her bearings.
Thankfully the snow flew past her, over her, swirling and falling outside of the tiny niche she'd created. The sky was still black above her, the moon, if it was even shining, was still covered by the low hanging clouds. She had no real concept of time, but there wasn't the tiniest glance of the dawn trying to break so she supposed it was hours until morning.
Between the large cardboard boxes, stacked so neatly in the open bed of the truck, she could see glimpses of the road behind her. Snow was falling in sheets, the road a mixture of black and red as the white ice reflected the glow from the tail lights.
Clenching her teeth to stop them from chattering, she wrapped her right arm, her good arm, around her sore knees trying to make herself as small as possible. She'd managed to wedge herself between two large boxes their contents unknown and she was more than happy to keep it that way. She needed to remember where she was. How she'd gotten here.
When she'd broken through the tree line, her eyes had barely adjusted in time to see the red glow of taillights turning off the road. Hoping it had not been a hallucination, with legs aching and lungs burning, she had run after the sight.
It had been a small gas station, something that she wouldn't have expected to be open twenty four hours like its small neon sign advertised. A single flood light barely lit the gravel parking lot, but it was enough to illuminate the out of date gas pumps and the single truck that was parked beside them.
People. Phones.
Relief had flirted at the edges of her mind. A part of her had wanted to run up to the driver, to beg whoever was behind the wheel to bring her to Gotham. Hell, they could call the cops if they wanted, if they'd just give her some food and bring her home. But that nagging little voice had stopped her.
Skirting the edge of the parking lot and staying close to the tree line, she'd watched the manager of the place come out. He had been an older man, white hair and flannel coat, but from the long firearm he'd held loosely by his side she'd guess that he could take care of himself just fine. He'd approached the truck with as much congeniality as any octogenarian welcoming his grandkids.
"Where ya headed?" he asked, grabbing the nozzle and lifting a lever.
"The City," replied a gruff voice that made the hair on her neck stand up. "Got a load for the boss and then headed back before the roads ice."
"In this?" the old man asked, incredulously. "Why didn't they give you one of those big-?"
A gust of wind carried away their words, but she didn't strain her ears to hear. She'd heard all she need to. Looking at the side of the truck, she recognized the logo and berated herself for not recognizing it earlier.
Maroni.
These are Maroni's men.
Silently swearing, she felt her eyes begin to burn, but she ignored it. How? How had her luck failed her so miserably for so long? Breathing, deeply she pushed down the hysteria threatening her.
She couldn't trust these men. She couldn't con them. She couldn't ask them for help.
Maroni. Falcon. It didn't matter. They weren't in the business of helping others. They weren't in the business of doing the right thing. But she didn't need their help. She just needed a ride and she knew where they were going and that was good enough for her.
Breathing deep, ignoring the throb in her shoulder and the burn in her throat, she slid out from the tree line crossing the small parking lot as quite as a stray. The old man was busy, his hands cupped around his mouth in an attempt to warm them. Her eyes shot to the driver as she reached the tail end of his truck, but his dark head never turned.
"You take care now," the old man said, and she listened to the mechanical jingle as he replaced the nozzle before he slapped the side of the truck.
Still she waited. She waited until the driver paid for his gas, his back turned as the manager went back inside, it was hard to keep her eye on both men, but she managed it best she could, as she hopped over the side of the truck, her feet barely making a sound as she slid in-between two large cardboard boxes.
She'd started shivering as soon as they'd taken to the road and she wasn't sure if she would ever stop. The blood in her hair and the water in her clothes had just begun to freeze when she'd stupidly drifted off.
Little black shapes still danced at the edges of her vision, but she would worry about that later. For now, she had to keep moving forward. She had to get back to Gotham.
She heard the whine of the brakes, her head snapping up at the familiar sound as the truck came to a stop. Her head swiveled to the side, her ears straining to hear over the rumble of the truck engine and the wind whipping through the trees.
Maybe he was stopping for a cigarette break?
Please, be stopping for a cigarette break, she silently pleaded.
"I don't know who you are, or what you want, but you got three seconds to get the hell out of my truck.
"One.
"Two…"
Fatigue had her underestimate the height of the truck and she under-rotated as she hurdled herself over the side. An ominous pop reverberated as her ankle collapsed on her, but she kept moving toward the woods that crept up on both sides. A sound like thunder ripped through the quiet and she knew he'd shot off a warning as she entered the woods.
The truck's engine roared as it drove away. The pain in her ankle beginning to throb as she peeked around the tree she'd been hiding behind. Her eyes followed the taillights as they grew smaller and smaller. Her last chance of hope literally diminishing.
Hobbling back to the road, her eyes continued their upward trail and her head began to tilt back as she felt her self smile. Over the skinny silhouettes of the forest, she could see the glow of the city. She was close to Gotham. She was close to home.
Ignoring the pain that seemed her constant companion, she looked around, taking in the fork in the road ahead of her being quickly consumed by the snow falling in sheets. Despite the darkness, despite the cold, despite her swollen eye, everything seemed vaguely familiar, like a dream she couldn't quite remember.
The wind suddenly cut through her reverie and she pulled her hood up again. As she looked at the fork in the road ahead of her she couldn't help but feel that maybe her luck hadn't completely abandoned her.
'Billionaire's Boulevard' she breathed, she knew the snake like road, the trees bent over it like a canopy in the summer, but right now on a cold moonless night they looked like the legs of a giant pale spider.
She stood looking at the fork, one way went straight to Gotham, but self-preservation pulled her toward the road.
She hopped her way into the bushes. She was never going to make it back to Gotham before light. Even in the dark, this place looked familiar.
If she kept on this path, past the grove and the maze…
She wasn't sure how long she'd been walking, but she was starting to believe she might already be dead. Was this hell? Was she in hell? It was the only thing that could explain how she'd been walking for so long without the slightest hint that she was getting closer to civilization. She'd walked this route a hundred times, and it had never taken her this long. But she'd never been in this much pain. Never in her life.
She knew she had to keep moving. If she fell now, she was dead. One foot in front of the other that was all she had to do. She just had to try and block out everything else, the burning in her shoulder, the pounding in her head, the pain shooting up from her ankle. She didn't know the difference between a sprain and a break, but as the soft flakes of snow turned into ice she didn't think it really mattered.
Her body wanted to give up, to lay down right in the middle of the road. Would her death make the papers? Would she be a tiny blurb on the back page, not even a picture, just another dead street kid? Would the boy read about it? Would he care?
Of course he would, she chided herself, grimacing as her foot began to trail behind. He cared about everything. All the time. He was like a giant open wound, everything infected and festered inside him. He felt too much.
She wasn't exactly sure how he even existed in the world. He needed to be coddled, kept in a gilded cage and handled with kid gloves. The world was too brutal for a soul like that.
Crack!
The sound of a heavy limb breaking under the weight of snow had her jump and the pain in her ankle and shoulder shot through her like a popper.
What in the hell was she thinking about souls for? Was she losing her mind?
She had no business feeling sorry for an orphaned billionaire, but here she was walking down a familiar path, enduring more physical pain than she thought possible, dying ever so slowly as she crept up on the manor house.
If she didn't make it and that was a big if, she wondered who would find her, one of the yard guys or maybe the chick who delivered the paper every morning. She just hoped it wasn't him. She didn't want this to be his last memory of her, clothes shredded, face swollen and bloody. She was probably unrecognizable, bits of blood and mud caked in her hair.
Just a little longer, she promised her exhausted limbs, as the sleet stung her cheeks and eyes settling in her hair, just a little longer and we'll stop.
Every tree, every topiary, became a milestone as she trekked her way across the yard.
She and the boy had had fun out here. He'd finally caught her in the never ending game of tag and this one had seemed to last for months. She still wasn't sure how he'd got the jump on her but he had.
She'd been hiding behind one of the tall hedges, so confident in her choice of hiding places. Bruce was quiet, but he still hadn't learned to play dirty and she always exploited that. When he'd ambushed her, she had been genuinely shocked. In his zeal, he had forgotten to factor in the couple of extra inches he'd gained in height, and when he'd tackled her, he tackled her with more force than necessary. When they'd hit the ground, she'd almost felt the air knocked from her lungs.
His dumb smile had faded quickly as he realized his mistake.
"Selina-" he'd started, his voice soft and so full of concern she almost hit him.
"Alright kid," She'd interrupted tilting her head, "you caught me, now whatcha gonna do?"
He'd looked down at her, his pale face completely bewildered, as he'd certainly not thought this far ahead.
"That's what I thought," she'd mumbled, swiftly lifting her leg and in one movement flipping and pinning the slight boy to the ground. He'd looked up at her, his usually somber features a mixture of confusion and amusement.
"See," she'd said, trying hard to keep her weight on her knees and off his chest. She'd wanted to teach the kid a lesson, not crush him. "I'd know exactly what to do with you." She'd smirked, lightly thumping the end of his nose.
That day had felt years away now, but it had just been last fall. Red and gold leaves had been scattered all over the grounds and the bushes had already lost their fullness, it wasn't that Selina was a romantic; it was that their loss had greatly limited her hiding places and escape routes. She wondered if he'd planned for such a day, for such a trap…
Crack!
Another limb crashed to the ground with a thud, the sound bringing her head up. At the sight that loomed ahead of her, she smiled despite the multiple bloody splits in her chapped lips and quickened her step.
She had not survived all this to die on Bruce Wayne's doorstep.
Author's Notes: Constructive Criticism always welcome. Thank you to anyone reading this and everyone who followed/favorited. A big thank you to ByzinhaLestrange. You keep me writing. :)