I do not own any part of the Batman franchise. It all belongs to...DC comics? Some movie conglomorate? Ah, well.
AN: Whew! I was gone a long while, wasn't I? My apologies. Hope you enjoy this chapter.
Molly didn't bother to ask the questions of how she had avoided those guards, or why the door to the warehouse wasn't locked, or who had left her a cell phone so conveniently on a nearby table. The answers to those questions didn't matter; at least, with a painful bullet wound in her side and a mouth full of cotton they didn't. All that mattered to her was that she had finally managed to crawl her way out of the damned place and was in the open air again.
Now, for the set of questions that really mattered: could she sneak past the men she knew would be watching the warehouse and its surrounding district? Did she remember Bruce's cell phone number? Should she call the police instead? Almost immediately, she disregarded the last thought. Calling the police would be foolish; how often had she read in the newspaper or seen the evening news reports of police who'd gone into a situation blind and turned up with more of their own dead than the criminals? Too often, that's what. No, they needed more information than what she could give them if they were going to try and take down this organization. She shivered and crouched low behind some barrels as she heard voices approaching. They passed right by the shadows where she was secreted and after another moment she began to crawl forward again. It was already dark out; she'd taken an extra- and risky- chance on giving the warehouse they'd kept her in a once over, in the hopes of finding Tony.
Eventually she'd had to admit defeat and make her way for the main doors and freedom, or potential freedom, really. Now that she was outside, she wasn't sure what she should do first. If she called someone while she was too near the warehouse someone might hear her speaking. If she took to the streets someone might find her and victimize her again; and she was in no condition to defend herself. She finally opted to crawl forward slowly in the shadows. It was taking forever and she knew that with every second she tarried that it was more likely her absence would be noticed. In fact, she was surprised no one had sounded the alarm yet, already.
Another set of footsteps passed near her and she paused in her movements again, crouching as low as she could. Doubling over sent waves of pain down the side with the bullet wound, but she bit her lip hard to keep from crying out. She was struggling for her life, here and well she knew it. That bastard would never let her go if he found her again now, trying to escape. He'd probably use her one last time for old times' sake and then have her killed. Or maybe just have her killed, though he seemed like that type to want to savor a victory. And he would definitely see having her back in his grasp as a victory, after losing her so many years before. After she'd already escaped him once.
The pain in her side was swiftly turning into a deafening roar in her ears and Molly squeezed her eyes shut tight. If she could just power through it, get a few more blocks away from the warehouse, away from the docks. She knew she was in the Narrows, it was the only place that it made sense for someone like Vodyanoy to hold court; but she didn't know the area well enough to say for certain she was heading in the right direction, towards the city. She was somewhat disoriented, to say the least, in pain and frightened from her brush with the demon of her past. Her hands crept up to her head and tugged on her short locks at the memory of him and she winced again. No, now was no time to lose it. She'd made it this far. Just a little longer and then she would open the phone and dial for help. Just a little father.
Batman was perched atop a building in the Narrows, scanning the nearby streets and alleys for any sign of life or activity from the Russian thugs when his earpiece crackled to life in his ear.
"Alfred," he grunted. He knew the man would never have called this number if it wasn't an absolute emergency.
"Miss Molly has called the house," came Alfred's crisp voice. "She is on her cell phone somewhere in the Narrows. She managed to escape and is badly wounded. Your computer can trace the number if I patch her through to you?"
"Do it," he replied. A moment later her scared, hoarse voice filtered through to him.
"Bruce?" she asked. "Alfred said you were busy-"
The voice of Bruce Wayne issued from the Batman's mask, making the switch from scary tough guy to pampered businessman effortlessly.
"Nothing is as important as you right now. Where are you? Describe the buildings."
"This was stupid of me," she whispered. "What can you do to help? I should have called the police-"
"You did the right thing, calling me first. I'll contact the police as well, but I have resources they don't. Describe where you are," he insisted, even as he knew his computer was triangulating the signal's location.
"Uh- warehouses. Lots of dirty, broken windows- there's a cross street nearby. Dumpsters- fuck- what was that-"
The call started to break up. "Molly? Molly!" Bruce said harshly into the night. No one answered, though the call did not disconnect. He waited a beat or two before descending to the streets. His computer sent him the coordinates a minute later and he was off and running in her direction immediately. As he crossed block after block, her voice came back to him.
"Bruce? Are you still there?"
"I'm here."
"Someone walked past. I had to put the phone down." She gave a shuddering gasp and he put on an extra burst of speed before taking to the buildings again, propelling himself from one to the next. "This is insane- I don't know why I even called you-"
"I told you I had resources," he said angrily as he swooped down to her huddled figure, his night vision reading her form clearly.
"Bruce? I-" she stopped talking as she saw the shadow pass overhead and looked up into the face of the Batman. "Bruce?" she whispered. There was a sheen of sweat upon her brow and even in the dim light he could see she was pale and shaking. Her hair was plastered to her scalp and there were bruises along her face and arms. He snarled and she cowered away from him.
"Hang up the phone," he told her in his gravelly voice, reverting back. She closed the phone, her eyes never leaving his face. "Give it to me," he said and she handed it over obediently. He took it, ripped it open and then threw it into the nearest dumpster before throwing a match in after it. Then he scooped her up into his arms and hurried away. He used his grappling line to lift them to a nearby rooftop and in the moonlight he examined her quickly.
"Does it hurt when I move you?"
"Everything hurts," she muttered weakly. "There was a doctor there-"
"I know," he said gruffly. "He called the police. The police called me."
"So Bruce didn't call you?" she asked him.
He looked up at her after he'd repacked her wound and studied her for a second. His eyes searched her face for something- was it trust? She couldn't tell. She was feeling feverish and weak and her mind was missing something, some fact. She was having trouble piecing things together. All she knew was that she never wanted to see Vodyanoy ever again.
"I'm going to get you help," he said to her seriously. Then he picked her back up and they were off again. She wasn't sure, but it felt almost like they were flying. The wind rushing past her face as she curled into the Batman's armored arms was the last sensation she felt before darkness swept over her.
The entire ER seemed to stand still when he walked into it, the injured teacher in his arms. When the police officers arrived seconds after him was when everyone stopped staring and began to talk in rapid, hushed voices, still casting furtive glances at his imposing figure. He ignored them all and made sure a doctor and several nurses started tending to her immediately while he turned back to the policemen.
"Don't leave her side," he ordered, then he took a last look at her prone form and swept out of the ER. He'd done some research on the doctors of Gotham Mercy and knew that one Anton Melcer had worked there for the last two years. The man was the son of Russian immigrants and had worked hard to put himself through medical school…or else his mob connections had paid for the privilege. Either way, he was in their pocket now. One look at his tax records indicated that much. Now, Batman made straight for his office to get some answers from him. He needed to take them out before they made another move on himself, or Molly, especially. Without Vodyanoy running the operation, he was certain the gangs in their payroll would also dissolve into in-fighting. He could take care of them easily after that, but he needed to act quickly.
There was a single desk light on in the man's office and he was bent low over some paperwork. He didn't notice the dark figure that entered, of course, until it was too late and Batman's hand was around his neck, pinning him down to the desk.
"What-" he spluttered and Batman squeezed a little harder. He was out for blood tonight, there was no question.
"Where is Vodyanoy?"
"I-"
"I know you work for him, Dr. Melcer, that you were the one who called in about the teacher. Where is he?"
"The Narrows!" Anton gasped out.
"Where?"
"That's all I know, I swear! When they need me they blindfold me and take me in a car-"
"Where!"
Anton began sweating profusely. "I- I don't know! Some kind of warehouse near the water, that's all I know!"
"Why did you call in the tip?"
"What that monster was doing to her- it wasn't right, she was already injured-"
"What did he do?"
"He made me leave the room once. I think he knows her from somewhere. He thought she knew you, I mean, the Batman, but I told him she was telling the truth-"
"Is that all?"
"I tried to help her, I did, I swear!"
"She's out of his grasp now and in your hospital. If you go near her while she's here, you'll pay dearly for it."
Anton yelped as the heavily gloved hand bit into his neck. "She's safe? Ow! Okay, I won't touch her, I swear!"
"Now, take a message to your boss for me. If he wants the Batman, tell him to do his own dirty work. If he ever comes after Molly Weil or any of the other educators and children of Gotham again, he'll regret it."
"What-" The glove bit into his skin again and he fell silent. He stayed prone against his desk until long after the hand left his neck and the whisper of air ran from his doorway. Anton was sure he'd soiled himself.
Not forty minutes after Batman had been interrogating the mob's doctor, Bruce Wayne was stepping out of his vehicle and marching up the front steps of Gotham Mercy Hospital. He made his way up the levels and paused only briefly at a nurse's station to inquire after Molly's room number, before he walked down the hall and was stopped by the policeman outside her room. He looked past the man's shoulder and saw another officer plus the commissioner inside her room.
"Look," he said to the officer blocking his way, "I don't think you understand who I am-"
"I know who you are, Mr. Wayne, and I'm very sorry, but Commissioner says no one gets past this door, then no one-"
"Roy!" Commissioner Gordon said hastily when he saw who it was. "Great job, great job- keep it up. But, er, Mr. Wayne is alright. Please, come in, Bruce," he said. The officer merely nodded, moved aside briefly for Bruce to go in the room, and resumed his post.
Bruce looked at Molly's pale form, seeming so much smaller than she already was. Like her own actions an hour before, his eyes didn't leave her face. How could they? After knowing what she'd been through already, in her short life. It should have been too much to bear and instead, here she was, alive despite all circumstances. "How is she?" he asked softly.
"She'll be alright, as long as infection doesn't set into that wound. They've managed to lower her fever and stabilize her already. Bullet was taken out hours ago- they've got a doctor working for them, no doubt. Anyway, looks like she'll survive."
"As soon as she's able, I'm moving her back to the penthouse," Bruce said.
"You're crazy," Gordon responded. "She needs to be in a hospital-"
"She needs to be protected. I received information earlier that this crime boss you're after has personal connections to Molly's family. That makes her a prime target, more of one than she was before. I can have state of the art medical equipment in my apartment in a matter of hours, a nurse on duty- but I won't leave her in here. No offense to your security," he added.
"Oh, none taken," Jim replied sarcastically. "Look, I told you once already-"
"This is my business!" Bruce exclaimed. He finally turned to face the commissioner. "I know you think this is all some charade-"
"I don't think that," Jim admitted gruffly. "But you have to see this from our point of view, Bruce."
"All I see is that this young woman needs my help," he said harshly. "I'm collecting her in a day. I'll send my own men for added security until she's back at the penthouse. Thank you for your help, commissioner," he added dismissively. He hated having to treat the man that way- imperiously, like he was a servant- but it was necessary right now. Not just for his cover, but for Molly's well being. "My penthouse is still the most secure place in Gotham and that's where she'll stay," he finished.
Gordon frowned and stalked out the door, leaving his officers posted outside. "Fine," he bit out. "But if anything else happens to her I will hold you personally responsible."
Bruce didn't watch him go, just kept his eyes trained on Molly's face. "So will I, Commissioner," he whispered. "I already do."
AN: So, do I get a cookie for this chapter or not? I know, you're all wondering why she got away so easily. Well, Vodyanoy has his reasons. That's right, he knows all about it...
