Smiley faces for people reading this. Frowny face for Mr. YKWYA and his Loyal Daimyo arguments. You are not a very persuasive speaker, sweetheart, but that was a pretty epic kimono, so all is forgiven. Almost all.
Anyways, I'm planning on this story having one or two more pre-planned chapters after this, but if anybody has any ideas they'd like to see afterwards, I'd be more than happy to oblige, because I love Louie and Philip, and reporters are fun to write.
Disclaimer: Don't own Dark Knight or any other affiliates or properties of DC comics or Warner Bros. productions. I have, however, met Lenny Wilkins, and smiles again for anybody who knows who that is.
"Philip?" To his own ears, Crest's voice sounded strange, high and constricted. Dimly, he remembered that he had been intending to apologize to Philip tonight, promise to leave Bruce Wayne and Batman alone. But all that faded to obscurity next to the man standing before him.
"Louie!" Philip took several paces backwards, so his face was out of the light. "I thought-I mean-why-I thought you were out investigating."
"I was. Investigating the Batman."
He heard a sharp intake of breath. "Louie, please don't turn me in. I never meant-"
"This is why you wanted me to stop investigating," Crest muttered, fighting through the haze of shock.
"I know I should have told you and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Louie." Philip moved forward and hugged Crest, who felt the hard plates of the armor dig into his back. He flicked the cover over the lighter and was engulfed in complete blackness.
...
"Isn't that stuff uncomfortable?" he asked as they climbed the stairs to the apartment together, Philip now dressed in civilian clothes. He had stowed the Batman gear in a storage locker in the garage; Batman's entire lair had been two floors beneath Crest's feet the entire time!
Philip laughed weakly. "It's heavy, and unbearably hot in the summer. And I can't turn my head!"
oOo
News of the explosion hit the news at 5:00 the next morning. Harvey Dent was critically wounded, and a woman from the D.A.'s office, Rachel Dawes, was dead. Shots of the flaming rubble filled the screen in Crest's and Philip's living room, which Philip stared at as though in a trance.
Crest came to stand behind him and rested his chin on Philip's shoulder. "What are you going to do?"
"About what?" Philip asked, turning.
Crest raised his eyebrows.
"Oh. I don't know. The Joker escaped last night. I guess I'll-" he swallowed. "I guess I'll have to find him. Before he kills anyone else."
Crest nodded. "You're so brave. I couldn't even…" he trailed off, remembering again the cracked glass as Batman-Philip-slammed the Joker's head against it. "You really scared the shit out of me last night."
Philip's left eyebrow twitched, like it always did when he was confused. "When?"
"Just…when you were interrogating the Joker. You were pretty…bad-ass."
"Oh, that." Philip gave a high-pitched laugh. "Sorry. Um," he cast another look at the TV, "I should really go."
"Yeah. Go on. Save the world." Crest hugged Philip briefly and laughed.
"What?"
"Don't know what I'm gonna do, now that I don't have a story." Philip laughed and went into the kitchen.
oOo
Downstairs in the garage, Philip met with an elderly, white haired man dressed in an immaculate black suit. A black sedan was parked next to his storage locker, and the man helped Philip transfer all the Batman paraphernalia into the trunk.
They worked in complete silence, but after the man had slammed the trunk shut, Philip finally said, "I hate lying to him."
The old man didn't answer immediately. He walked around the car so that he was standing face to face with Philip. "By lying to him," he said in a British accent, "you have saved his life, Mr. Ackerman. And very possibly Batman's as well." He opened the driver's side door and sat down.
"Does Batman have to wear that horrible hood?" Philip asked on a sudden impulse. "I'd think it'd make it hard to fight, not being able to turn your head."
The old man smiled jovially. "No. He got a new one." He drove away.
oOo
Alfred may have indulged in a little self-congratulation as he drove back to the penthouse, but whatever celebratory feelings he may have had were effectively strangled when he reached the top floor and saw Bruce still dressed in the Batman suit, minus the mask, sitting listlessly in a chair, staring at the Gotham skyline, expressionless.
He seemed to have been talking prior to Alfred's arrival, because he said as though finishing a sentence, "…and there's still the reporter."
With another little bubbled of pride, Alfred said, "You won't need to worry about him, sir."
"What do you mean?" asked Bruce without looking at him.
"I've taken care of it."
All reviews appersheated. BTW the second to last Castle episode, "The Blue Butterfly", is TOTALLY FRAKKING AWESOME! To put it simply, Ryan and Esposito are gangsters from the forties. And Ryan has the sexiest Irish accent ever. So you should watch it.
Hey, funny joke. Not really, but kinda. What's black and white and black and white and black and white and black and white? A penguin rolling down a hill.
What's black and white and laughing? The penguin who pushed him.
(:) peas in a pod.