Disclaimer: I do not own "TDK" or anything "Batman" related. I believe DC comics does.
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As I have so many times before, I stare out of the rain painted windshield of my newly re-obtained car. My gaze is unmoving as I stare at the GPD. Something is eating away inside me, something that I cannot identify.
I feel so vacant.
In my stupid crummy car I try to make the decision whether or not I should go into the GPD and do what I came here to do. I eavesdrop on the sleepless rain's lullaby, playing like a song on the steel top of my car.
It is pouring outside, but it is still slightly warm. I watch the steam rise up from the gutters on the curbs outside the GPD.
The rain still will continue to sing, regardless of who lives and dies in this sin filled city.
I want to close my eyes and slumber off in a world where the bad men do not exist.
It is really too bad that life is not a fantasy that we ourselves get to write.
We just aren't that lucky I guess.
Many cars flood the parking lot, working double time.
Almost all the cars, except one.
Lieutenant Gordon's.
He's dead.
I cannot believe it, I feel hallow.
And afraid.
Always.
Tonight, I come here not to work on cases about men in clown makeup with scarred Glasgow smiles, or to work alongside my kinsmen. I am here for something else entirely.
I listen to the rain play music on the steel of my car, reminding me again of the heavy rain the pours outside.
I should've brought an umbrella.
Oh well.
Reluctantly, I get out of the car and am smacked in the face by sheets of dark unrelenting downpour. I thrust the collar of my coat up, in attempt to avoid the sensation of one thousand and one pins pricking my flesh.
I wonder what it would be like if Ilia were walking with me right now to the steps of the GPD, or what it would be like to enter and go talk to Gordon.
Wishful thinking will get me nowhere.
Quickly, I enter the GPD, walk down the main hall, and into the hub of the detectives' offices. Whilst passing through, I glance at Detectives Ramirez, Stevens, Wright and Kimberlan while working in their offices, but one in particular catches my eye. Detective Hannings is hunched over his desk working rigorously on paperwork of some sort. Tired bags hang under his dark eyes and his grey hair is in a curly tasseled fury. I notice his small bald spot on the back of his head.
Hannings looks up at me with wrathful glazed tired eyes.
"What the Fuck are you doing here, Duren?" He says, blinking slowly.
"Just um, going up to the roof," I say, slowly stopping in front of his office.
"Goin' up to the roof," he snorts, "Stevens and Ramirez waited up there for over an hour and that stupid Bat fuck didn't even show up. He doesn't give a shit about us. Duren, what the hell makes you think his is gonna give a shit about you."
I am a little shocked by his abrasive verbal attack.
"Hey, why don't you show some respect?" I say, raising a hand.
"Show some respect, show some resp-, you know Duren, that's great. 'Specially comin' from you. You come in here, don't even bother to help ANY of us and are just going to traipse up to the roof to talk to the Bat. Well guess what, we're all a little shaken up. Both our bosses were killed by thatbastard in the purple suit. We're upset and you just come in here not even bothering to-."
I have had enough of this. Furiously, I leave and make my way quickly up to the rooftop via the stairs. When I reach the door to the roof, I open it swiftly. Gotham's rain continues to pour down and I waltz out into it, closing the door behind me.
I never did like Hannings.
Rage and sadness boils into a deliciously dangerous cocktail of emotion inside my small body. I ignore the irritating rain that smacks me in the face and soaks my wavy hair and the foolish words that spewed out of the asinine mouth of Hannings.
If only he knew…
If only.
My feet carry me over to the specialized spotlight and my little hands turn it on.
Still I find myself amazed by the powerful symbol as it climbs its staircase made of light into the nighttime sky. A malformed shaped bat stretches across the heavens and sleeps against the dark clouds.
Now I must wait and hope that the Batman sees his calling, though he should surely know that will not be Gordon standing on this rooftop. It might be more than enough to sway the Batman's decision not to pay a visit to me, the pathetic Eva Duren.
I feel anger flurry through my heart again and in my stomach I feel the fear that the Joker has imbedded inside my conflicted soul. I feel those stupid things called tears slither into my eyes and I run my hands through my drenched hair in an attempt to calm myself.
I can do this.
We are only given what we can handle in life, and if this is what I must fight then I have no other choice.
But even a self pep talk will not stop the flood of emotions that comes over me.
Tears break the dams that are my waterlines and spill onto my cheeks, only to blend with the sensation of rain melting onto my face as well. Slowly, I walk closer to the spotlight and lean against the side of it for some kind of faux comfort.
Time passes, perhaps an hour, two hours.
I have absolutely no idea.
My anger has subsided and all that is left is my fear and my loneliness.
The dreadful rain has finally stopped, but I am still completely soaked through all my layers of clothing.
Including my Bra and underwear.
How delightful.
Ugh.
So tired I am now, I am just about ready to go home and sleep until the next turmoil filled day. I decide that that would probably be the more reasonable thing to do than wait for a ghost to appear.
Slowly, I turn to face the light completely and shut it off. Yawning and stretching my arms, I turn around, but my heart almost explodes out of my throat when I see him.
The Batman.
His body encased in armor gleams with dew on the dimly lit rooftop of the GPD. The Batman's cape titivates his broad and powerful shoulders, giving him the appearance of folded wings. Deep permanents furrows in his cowl give him a menacing and dominant appearance. Those dark insightful eyes brew with a tamed rage and penetrate my doe-like brown eyes.
I break eye contact, too intimidated to look at him. I feel so stupid, to call upon him and am now too scared to even say anything. I open my mouth to speak and then close my eyes tightly and shake my head slowly, pursing my lips.
I open my eyes to look and him and force myself not to break the gaze.
"I feel so useless," I finally say in a quiet voice.
He says nothing, but tilts his head ever so slightly, in an inquisitive and patient manner.
When he does this, even though it is ever so subtle, it soothes me and allows me to continue to speak without much apprehension.
"I mean, what can I do to stop the Joker. I guess I don't really know what to do, I just thought maybe if I asked you since, since you know, Gordon's gone and he trusted you I thought… Well I guess I really don't know what I thought," I say frustrated and continue, "I just don't know what to do anymore. He murdered my dearest friend and killed the Lieutenant. Gordon saw something inside of you, trusted you, more than any of our cops. I just don't know where else to go. I just want to help."
I stop, hoping that I did not sound too desperate and weak, even though I know I already have.
There is no turning back the tables to take back what I have said to this spirit.
The Batman's dark eyes burn with a wicked intensity, they speak of his hostile past, yet there is something about him that I cannot read.
Nevertheless, eyes always hold something.
Even in a creature like the Batman.
"I'm afraid and I am tired of being afraid," I utter through an exasperate whisper.
He looks at me, long and hard, tasting my weary soul through my eyes.
Then, he speaks.
"Don't be afraid, Eva."
The Batman's voice is feral and baritone, embracing the creature that he has harnessed so carefully from within himself. His words feel as if the take root deeply in his mysterious past.
I nod to him.
Once.
Just once.
Implying I understand.
And the most beautiful thing is that I do.
Dark and hidden is a masked past, his powerful gaze does not waver from mine and again he speaks.
"Dent is holding a press conference tomorrow," he says in his deep untamed voice, "Attend it."
I nod again slowly and wrap my arms around my waist, shivering from the cold. Then, I look down, too embarrassed to look at him whilst I speak.
"Thank you, for everything."
He says nothing.
I look up and realize that the Batman has already vanished into the night of Gotham.
Perhaps that is all the Batman will ever get in return, a whispered thank you from the decomposing souls of Gotham.
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A/N: Wow, how long has it been? Ugh, I don't even know myself. I am really sorry to all of you wonderful readers that I did not update sooner, but I can assure you that I will be working way more on this fun story this summer, due to the fact that I can dedicate my time to it. Thanks again for reading and please review! This chapter was very personal for the character Eva and for me to write, so I would really love constructive criticism!!!