Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Batman universe.
I go from face down in the snow to on my feet, crouching defensively, in less than second. There is still more adrenaline in my veins than blood. Bruce is slowly picking himself up from the ground as Ducard stops, five feet away.
A guttural snarl escapes my lips. I am ready for whatever Ducard throws my way. I inch behind Bruce, so that my back is to the cliff. I know there must be all sorts of firearm trained on my head right now, but if I get the chance, I'm running for it.
Ducard holds his hand up, palm to me, and I almost bolt right then and there.
"It's okay, Breezy," he calls soothingly to me. I continue to glare at him as he finishes with this brilliant lie, "We're not going to hurt you."
Bruce has risen to his feet, and he takes my arm, trying to lead me to Ducard. What?! Is he trying to get me killed?!
I shake him off violently, my eyes still boring holes into Ducard's.
"Breezy," Bruce says calmly, "Go."
Why is he taking Ducard's side? Does he really hold that much against me? I just saved his life for Christ's sake!! My next snarl is for him. Instincts are taking over, and the whole scene is tinted red in my very nervous eyes.
I think I may have shocked Bruce by snarling at him, but I am too far past sanity to really notice. I'm all strategy now, my two choices escape or fighting my way out, both of which have a molecularly small chance of working.
The black sea of ninjas that had flooded the landscape disappears, sensing the excitement to be over. I don't notice.
"I'm not going to kill you," Ducard tries again.
"Now," I mutter, the first intelligible thing to come out of my mouth.
Ducard sighs, and then turns back to the monastery, but not before baiting me one last time, "If you run, you know you'll be found and killed. If you come inside, I can offer you redemption."
Bruce won't leave my side until I make a move towards the low, menacing building. I don't yet know if this is in my best interest, in fact it's incredibly brainless of me, but at least on the way out I'll take a few of them to hell with me.
Ra's al Ghul is waiting patiently for us, Ducard at his side.
"She has broken the rules, Ducard," Ra's says the instant we close the doors.
"Yes," Ducard cedes, "But she has given us ten years of full commitment."
Commitment? That's his argument? My seniority here? Ha.
Ra's nods, as if he's actually considering it, but then he says, "The secret cannot be revealed. Once you are in, you're in for life."
"I don't think we have to worry about Ms. Breezy revealing us to anyone. She is secluded, you know that," Ducard says. He must've planned this one out.
I have this disease. It's called verbal diarrhea, "I made an intentional infraction of the law and you're not going to kill me? Are you going soft in the head?" … what? My jaw is hanging open, just like everyone else's in the room.
"Well, if you want to die …" Ducard trails off, looking more than confused at my outburst.
I don't trust my mouth enough to open it again. I instead shake my head belligerently.
"I didn't think so," Ducard sighs. Maybe I did that just to make his life hard. "We were going to let her free anyway, sir. Why would we change our plans now?" I stop listening now. Ducard is foolish for trying to save me.
I am more aware of Bruce at my side than I normally would be. He is slightly in front of me actually. I think it's because he's … I search my mind for the right word. Protective? That wouldn't make much sense. But then, maybe, he doesn't hate me as much as I think he does. Maybe we are still friends.
My rambling thoughts are pulled to a swift close as Ra's al Ghul stands from his stupid throne and delivers my sentence.
"You may leave unharmed. But you are to have no more contact with the League of Shadows," he says gravely.
For the second time in one minute, my jaw hangs slack, but then I compose myself and dare to say something, "I can deal with that." Yeah, nice time for sarcasm, Breezy.
I flee quickly to my room and throw my few belongings into my bag. Bruce is right on my heels. As soon as I finish packing, I turn to him, intent on telling him everything I couldn't previously.
"Breezy, I," he begins to thank me, but I stop him.
"No, listen, Bruce. They're going to come to escort me out of here soon," then stop wasting your valuable time, idiot, "I have to tell you something."
I don't wait for his response. Oh, I could've planned this so much better, "Get out of here, Bruce. While you still can." Melodramatic, I know, but I plunge forward, "Promise me something."
"Anything," Bruce says, his eyebrows knitted confusedly in the middle of his forehead.
"Don't lose yourself, Bruce. Don't let them get to you. Always remember who you are, and stay true to your principles. It's all you can hang onto here. Don't let them destroy you, like they did me. Please. Your light is something far too valuable to be lost in the darkness of the League of Shadows." I spit the last few words, "I wish I could've warned you sooner, but that would've cost me my freedom. I'm sorry."
"You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for," Bruce tells me. I half-believe him but I know myself better.
"Just, please. Don't be afraid to leave," I plead, even though nothing is on the line yet.
Bruce nods solemnly, taking my rushed yet genuine words to heart. A knock raps hard against my door.
This has been a strange day. I have not thought one thing that I've done through completely, but it seems to be suiting me. Strange times call for strange actions, or something along those lines. So I close my eyes, grab Bruce's collar, and pull his face to mine. The kiss is quick and stiff, barely even sensual. I've kissed men before, well, a few at least, but none were this … impulsive.
When I pull away, a second later, Bruce's face is stunned. For once, I've broken that indestructible composure of his. Ten points for me, I think dryly. But he doesn't seem upset so I count it as a success. Neither of us seems to know why I did that though. He very well might have a clearer idea than me.
The knock comes again, more urgently. Has it really only been five seconds?
"If you're ever in Gotham," Bruce says, regaining that poise, and he smiles faintly. He must be as taken aback as me.
"Of course," I say.
"Be safe," he calls as I am lead away down the hall. I laugh at him, the sound resonating in the halls. Bruce fails to see the dark humor behind his words, because he frowns contemplatively. He's probably going to brooding about this for months to come. The most I can hope for is that he'll be around for the next few months to brood.
As soon as the wind hits my face, I'm gone. The mountains pass in a blur beneath me, and I don't look back once. Of course, I have no idea where I'm going because I'm just so glad to be gone.
I fly until the night is solid around me; the stars and moon have already set. With each pump of my wings, my shoulder blades and stomach scream at me, both vying for the top spot on my list of annoyances.
The sky has never looked so good and the wind has never tasted so delicious. Freedom sharpens my senses and emotions, until I start to cry with the joy of it. The tears get caught in my second eye membrane though, and they blind me. I start to laugh now, because it's kind of absurd and I'm just so damn happy.
The mountains have given way to multi-treed forests. The air is no warmer up here, but that is only because I'm more than 30,000 feet in the air. Once I descend it will probably be muggy and humid. Great.
I'm afraid to stop now. I fear that if I do I will wake up in my small, dreary, claustrophobic room to face another fruitless day, another typo in the book of my life. Ha, if that's how things were, you wouldn't even be able to read that book.
Finally, I collapse in a large oak tree. The branch that I know claim as my own is wide enough to support me comfortably. I have no clue as to what country I'm in.
Before I lapse into sleep, my depraved mind decides that first thing when I wake up, I will find the nearest tiny civilization, terrify them into giving me food and directions, and find my way back to America. That would probably work. I went to Africa once and some tribe thought I was a god in human flesh. They fed me for months. They tried to eat me afterwards, but that's beside the point.
My stomach growls an unhappy reminder and I pat it tiredly. I haven't eaten since … um, must've been lunch before Bruce's training session. That was almost sixteen hours ago. Wow, my stomach has the right to be angry with me. For someone who eats twice as much as the average human, six meals a day, sixteen hours is close to the brink of starvation.
But fatigue outweighs hunger, and I pass out promptly on my tree branch, wondering idly what will happen to Bruce without me there to take care of him.