Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to Marvel Studios, Disney, Warner Bros. Entertainment, and/or their otherwise respective owners.

Author's Notes: Alright, here is what I am assuming is a much-needed breather chapter after the last one. Ish. You'll see what I mean.

Next chapter might take a while. I'm going to try to get out at least one more until then, but from late May to mid-June I am going to have to go on hiatus due to personal reasons. Nothing bad, I promise! Just have some shit I gotta do and I'm going to have little time to write + a lack of wifi. C'est la vie haha. But I'm looking forward to finishing this up after that if I don't get to before. :)

Chapter title comes from Together by the xx.

As always, I hope you enjoy,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

~the black and gold 'verse~

~the little man who wasn't there~

~chapter 9: together~

When he got to Gotham General, there were already nurses outside waiting for him. He parked at the entrance reserved for ambulances, underneath the canopy. As soon as he did, there was a bustle of movement. The nurses worked on getting Rachel out of the car and onto a stretcher. She screamed as they moved her, the shrieks chilling them all down to the bone – he could tell. Even for the medical personnel, this was a brave, new world of unimaginable horror.

Bruce tried following after them. He tried running behind the stretcher into the building. But one of the nurses, a male omega, stepped in front of him. "You did everything you can," he said. His eyes contained no room for argument, much like Tony's did whenever he decided to put his foot down about something. "We need to take over now."

"I need to be there for her," he attempted to protest regardless.

The nurse shook his head. "We're putting her directly into the ICU. You're not going to be able to visit her. You need to rest." He patted his arm for emphasis. "And then you need to find the person that did this to her and bring them to justice."

He vanished into the building.

Bruce stared after him.

He knew who had done this to Rachel.

It was me.

"Bats."

Selina and Jim were standing behind him. Their faces and clothes were covered in soot from the explosion on 250 52nd Street. Jim remained silent, staring at him, conveying his shared sympathy and grief without words.

But as for Selina...

"Bruce, I'm sorry," she spoke as she walked over to him. Her eyes were as watery as his own. "I'm sorry."

A noise formed in the back of his throat, but he couldn't get his vocal cords to do anything more than that. He hung his head.

Selina stepped around him, placing a hand on his shoulder. She pushed him forwards minutely. "Let me drive you home," she whispered. "Please."

He resisted, if only barely. "Selina, I need to..." He didn't even care about the fact that he was slipping with her name.

"There's nothing more you can do here," she rebuked him sharply. She faltered. "Please, just let me drive you home."

"I'll stay," Jim gruffed then, nodding as he spoke. "She's not going to be alone, Batman. Not tonight."

Bruce didn't have any fight left in him.

He let Selina open up the front passenger door. He got in, and felt his phone dig into him. She hopped into the driver's seat and drove off, headed for the main entrance to the Batcave in Gotham.

Neither of them spoke for the entire drive. The only sounds were the pitter-patter of rain until they went underground, followed by the echoing sound of the engine off of the tunnel walls.

Alfred and Rebecca were waiting for them inside the cave. The beta man was carrying something in his arms – clothes. "Bruce, you need to take off your suit," he told him gently – and that was the evidence of his own grief. In spite of him being his foster father and raising him, Alfred hardly ever called him by his first name. It was always "Master Wayne" or "sir."

Numbly, Bruce went through the ministrations, right then and there. It didn't occur to him to be bothered by the fact that they were all seeing him practically naked. They'd each see him worse.

He stepped away from his suit. Rebecca picked it up, wearing protective gloves on her hands that went up to her elbows. A drop of the chemical from the vat fell from the suit onto the floor, becoming part of a small puddle there. As the puddle ate away at the surface of the floor, it crackled and sizzled. Just like Rachel's skin.

Oh, God –

He gagged at the memory, but he didn't have anything left in his system to come up other than bile. Alfred rubbed at his back. He helped him get into the clothes afterwards – a set of pajamas. "Come with me," he whispered once they were done. "Master Stark is upstairs...the children are asleep..."

Bruce followed after Alfred. They went up to the basement of the house, then another two floors up and to his and Tony's bedroom. Sure enough, there Tony was. His face was white as a sheet. The news was playing, showing the burning building that Harvey had died in, but he turned it off as soon as Bruce appeared in the doorway.

Like a drunken man, Bruce lumbered towards him. He was vaguely aware of Alfred shutting the door behind him. He collapsed on the bed, the strength leaving his body. His head landed in such a way it was right next to Tony's torso. Silence reigned as Tony gently picked up his head with his hands and shifted his own position, until Bruce's face was buried into his abdomen. He hadn't noticed it until now, but his husband's stomach already had a noticeable curve to it. His scent was already beginning to take on that undertone it did when he was pregnant – hardly discernible, but still there.

And Bruce wanted to amend his earlier statement: he had never really cried before, and he hadn't really cried while he'd been driving Rachel to the hospital, though the tears had streamed down his cheeks unlike they ever had before.

But he started crying now. Loud, gut-wrenching sobs bursted out from him, the same sobs that Achilles had probably made when Patroclus had been killed in battle. He couldn't stop them, not that he would have wanted to, anyways.

"What can I do?" Tony asked after a while, he knew not how long. "Alpha, tell me, what can I do?"

But there was nothing that he could. The only thing that he was able to do was hold Bruce as he cried, and the coherent part of himself, as small as it was, supposed that it was all he would've wanted him to do as it was. It wasn't like his husband could turn back time and prevent Harvey from dying or Rachel falling into the vat, or them from having come back to Gotham in the first place. It wasn't like he could help him stop the Joker, because Bruce would refuse to let him if he tried. He made it a silent vow to himself.

He'd already lost his oldest friends to that monster. He wasn't going to lose his mate on top of them.

Eventually, his body gave up on crying. As Tony petted his hair and whispered sweet nothings to him, he felt himself drift off to slumber. He fell into a dreamless sleep, but it wasn't a restful one. For even in unconsciousness, his mind was never going to let him forget what had happened tonight. Not in a million years.

The next morning, he woke up to the sound of retching coming from the bathroom.

He opened his eyes, but couldn't find it in himself to move his body. His alarm clock was in his line of sight. The time read 8:06 AM. It was a Wednesday, and he'd slept in.

Of course, he knew why.

The sound of footsteps pricked at his ears. "Bruce?" Tony asked him. He didn't need to see his front to know that he was awake. His husband crept into the bed, the mattress dipping beneath him. He melded himself against him, wrapping an arm around his torso and slipping his legs behind his. It felt strange, being the little spoon to his big spoon, but not unwelcome or unwanted. "Hey."

"...Hey," he answered after several seconds. His voice sounded scratchy from his throat being rubbed raw. He shifted around so that he could look Tony in the eyes, brown meeting brown. "Morning sickness?"

"Yeah," Tony replied. He winced as Bruce leaned in. "You don't want to kiss me. I haven't even brushed my teeth yet."

"I don't care," Bruce said.

Their kiss was chaste and short. When it was over, he buried his nose into Tony's neck where his mating gland was, inhaling his scent. It didn't calm him, but it did soothe him. It made him no longer feel like he was seconds away from snapping.

"Alfred's making breakfast. He's going to be coming up with ours in a little bit," informed him Tony quietly.

He sat up. "No."

The line between Tony's brows creased. "'No?'"

"I can't just stay in bed," Bruce answered, putting his feet on the floor and pushing himself into a standing position. His body ached; he felt like Atlas, that the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "I have to get justice for Harvey and Rachel, and all the other people the Joker has maimed or killed. I have to..." He buried his head in his hands.

Tony again hugged him from behind. "Okay," he said. "Whatever you want, Alpha."

It wasn't about what he wanted. He wanted nothing more than to crawl back into their bed and remain there for the rest of the day, and maybe even the day after this one.

It was about what was necessary.

It was about his responsibility.

Downstairs, he wasn't surprised to see Dick and Jason sitting at the breakfast table along with the rest of their siblings as well as Rebecca and Taryn, the nanny working on feeding Peter. Alfred was at the stove, continuing to make them all pancakes.

The somber note that was already in the atmosphere only increased in intensity as he appeared in the archway. All of the chatter died. Dick and Jason gazed at him mournfully. Lili, Harley, and Peter were all a little confused about the entire thing, though his daughter not as much as the toddlers, but they knew something was wrong.

"'Morning, kids," Bruce rasped. He ruffled Dick's and Jason's hair, and kissed the hair of the other three.

"Hi, Bruce."

"Hey, B."

"Good morning, Daddy."

"'Morning, Daddy."

Peter was too busy stuffing his face with cut pieces of pancakes to give anything more than a noise of contentment at seeing his father, but that was alright. He wouldn't have expected anything more.

Bruce poured himself a mug of coffee from the pot. "Thank you, Alfred," he murmured to his surrogate father.

The man offered him a weary smile. "It is no problem."

They kept the conversation light for breakfast – and that was to say, they hardly talked at all. The food tasted like ash in his mouth. The kids all fled to the living room after they were finished with the food, Taryn trailing after them. She squeezed his hand before she left the room, her eyes as mournful as Dick's and Jason's had been and understanding.

With him forcing the last of his food down his throat, he looked at Alfred and Rebecca. "We should have a debriefing. Can everyone get here in an hour?"

"I'll make the calls," Alfred responded.

"Bruce – " Rebecca began.

He didn't stay long enough to find out what she wanted to say.

He went upstairs. He took a shower and spent a long time staring at the shower drain, watching the water swirl down it as he kept a hand against the shower wall. Once he figured enough time had passed, he got out of the shower, dried himself off, and put on a different change of clothes.

"Where's Dinah?" he asked when he took his seat downstairs.

Alfred, Rebecca, Selina, and even Jim were all there, sitting around the conference table. "She had to work," Selina answered him, hesitating briefly before she added, "I told her she was off the case."

"That was probably the best idea," Bruce grunted. This had gone so far beyond the pale, it wouldn't be good for her to be going after the Joker any longer when she was still green behind the ears. "What about Rachel?"

"She's still in the ICU," Jim reported. "Last I was told, they're not sure of what the chemical was, like with Fleck. They think the...injuries she sustained, which are similar to burns, will be permanent." Bruce closed his eyes, fending off the onslaught of his emotions. "They've put her in a medically-induced coma due to the pain. They don't think she'll be able to wake up for several days."

His fault.

His fucking fault.

"And Fleck?"

Nothing.

He opened his eyes, staring at Jim. "And Fleck?"

"I told you we should've told him last night," Selina muttered, crossing her arms.

"He wouldn't have gone with you if I had, and he needed to," Jim retorted.

A growl rumbled in his chest. "Gordon, where is Fleck?"

Jim sighed, and that alone would've told him everything he needed to know. "During the rush of trying to rescue Harvey and Rachel, the Joker escaped last night," he said. "My people tried to capture him, but – "

Bruce's chair grated against the floor as he pushed it back. "What?" he roared. "So he's out there? Able to do whatever the fuck he wants?"

He couldn't believe it. It was too horrible to be true.

"He'd planned everything that happened last night," Jim said. "Down to the minutiae. He'd known exactly what we were all going to do."

"And that matters?" Bruce demanded hotly.

With the Joker back out on the streets, Rachel was still in danger from him on top of the injuries she'd already sustained. He wasn't going to stop just because she was in the ICU, or because he'd succeeded in killing Harvey. He wasn't going to stop at all.

Black spots appeared in Bruce's vision. He felt himself growing lightheaded as his breaths came out in shallow pants as quick as lightning, but there was nothing he could do to stop him. He couldn't control his own body at all as he paced back and forth.

He was having a panic attack.

It shouldn't have been happening. He was the one who needed to be strong for his family and all of Gotham. Tony and the others could be vulnerable, not because it was what was expected of them, but because he was the one who they could lean on.

But who could he depend on for capturing the Joker once and for all when even their efforts hadn't worked? Who could help him do the impossible?

"Bruce," Rebecca said calmly, coming up behind him. She led him back to his chair and made him sit down on it. "Bruce, you need to calm down."

He shook his head. He couldn't do that.

It was like he was standing in the Pit again after it had brought him back to life. The voices inside his head were talking to him, and they wouldn't shut up. Not this time.

But he hadn't been alone when that had happened, and he wasn't now. "Брюс," Rebecca spoke. Her Russian accent was like a ghost from long ago. She didn't use it as much anymore, had settled back into using her Brooklyn accent. But right now, it was exactly what he needed. "Брюс, посмотри на меня."

He did, right into her grey eyes.

"We're going to find him," she told him. "We're going to find the son of a bitch that did this to your friends, and then we're going to lock him up in Arkham Asylum for the rest of his life, because that is where he belongs. He'll never get out again."

Bruce blinked owlishly. "You don't want to kill him?"

He thought she would've agreed with Selina on that.

Hell, he was starting to wish he could agree with Selina on that, that he could cross the barrier of his own accord instead of the Joker having to make him do it for him.

One corner of Rebecca's mouth curved upwards grimly. "That wouldn't be justice for Rachel," she reasoned. "He shouldn't get the easy way out when she's going to suffer for the rest of her life because of what he's done. Same goes for Michael Aritza." Alfred nodded with her in agreement, though Selina and even Jim did not seem enthused by her statement. "But first – "

"We need a plan," Alfred interjected, finishing her statement.

For the next several days, the Joker laid low. There was no more killing like had happened from the 1st to the 8th. There were no videos released demanding more things, showing off hostages, or anything like that. He remained quiet, having presumably gone back to whatever hole he'd made for himself. Too quiet.

Rachel was not weaned off from the medications that kept her in her coma during this time, probably for the better. He visited her the next day, working his way into the ICU with his celebrity charm. Her mother, Elizabeth Dawes, was there, watching her daughter with wet cheeks. The entire left half of Rachel's body, from head to foot, was covered in bandages. The right half of her face didn't look peaceful; even in her coma and with all the pain meds that were running through her system, she was still clearly in agony.

Bruce felt like a cad, standing there in the doorway, holding a bouquet of lilies in his hands. He didn't say anything – not that he needed to.

Elizabeth noticed him soon enough. She gave him a watery smile. "Bruce," she whispered, standing up to come over and hug him loosely. Her tears fell onto his shirt, making it wet. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you managed to sneak your way into here, should I? You Wayne men have always been able to get what you want."

His throat tightened. "I hope you don't mind that I'm here, Elizabeth."

She jerked her head from side to side. "No, no. Of course not. Rachel..." Her bottom lip trembled as she trailed off. She visibly swallowed. "My daughter needs a friend right now, after...after everything. Especially now that Harvey's..." She had to take in a deep breath to steady herself. After she did, she took the vase from him. "And you got her some of her favorite flowers, too. How nice of you."

He shifted uncomfortably. "It was the least I could do. And her medical bills – "

"Let's not talk about those now," Elizabeth dismissed. She placed the vase on one of the tables next to the Rachel's bed, then gestured to the chair opposite of her own. "Please, sit. It'll be good for her to have some company other than me."

Uneasily, he did. The chair was on Rachel's left side, so the evidence of what he had done was up-close to him. Bruce was forced to look at the hints of the cadaver-colored skin he could see through the breathable bandages. He was forced to look at the left side of her hair, which was now shock-white. It was a brutal reminder of his transgression against his oldest friend.

But he couldn't let Elizabeth know he had been the one to do this to Rachel, for her own safety. He had to maintain the treacherous lie.

"How's your husband, Elizabeth?" he asked conversationally.

Now, the omega woman's entire face trembled. "Artie was transferred into hospice last week," she told him. "The doctors said...it's a matter of three or four weeks, maybe less. I tried to keep this a secret from him, but I wasn't successful. I think he's only hanging on for Rachel's sake now. He doesn't want her to be alone."

Bruce's heart ached. Here was a woman who he had known since childhood, and now her husband was dying, her daughter was in the hospital with injuries that would affect her for the rest of her life, and her son-in-law was dead. Truthfully, he had no idea how she was as well put together as she was now. Probably because she assumed it was what her daughter needed her to be.

"I'm so sorry, Elizabeth."

"It's fine." She laughed mirthlessly. "Well, it's not fine, but God never gives us battles that we cannot face, does He?"

"...I guess not," he replied. He and Tony were about as far from religious as people could get without actively being atheists.

He leaned forwards in his seat. "I just want you to know that my husband and I are here for both of you, Elizabeth. Arthur, too," he said. The words were hard for him to get out, but he had to say them. "In whatever way you need us. I know Tony was talking this morning about making you some recipes he learned from his mother."

Elizabeth wiped at her eyes. "Thank you. But, please, tell him not to go through the effort. You two have such a large family; he's probably busy enough as it is."

"Really, it'll be no problem for him."

She sighed. "Well, if he insists."

Bruce almost smiled. It figured she would understand his implication there, considering she and Tony were both high-class omegas.

Their conversation dwindled. They weren't content, per se, with each other, given the reason why they were here, but nevertheless they passed the time together. They were only interrupted when Elizabeth glanced at the clock hanging from the wall and saw what the time was. "The nurses or doctors should be in to check on her soon," she murmured. "Do you mind if I go to the restroom before – ?"

"Go ahead," he said.

With her mother having left the room, he looked down at Rachel. He'd read before about the benefits in talking to a comatose patient. He wasn't sure what to say to her in order to do that. He wasn't sure if she would want to listen to anything he had to say.

He decided he owed it to her to say something nonetheless.

"...Hello, Rachel," he said after taking in a long, deep breath. "I'm not sure whether or not you want me to be here right now. If not, then I'm sorry. But I had to see you how you were doing and check in on how your mother was doing. Tony and Alfred say hello, by the way. And your cat is doing well. She and my youngest, Peter, have grown quite fond of each other."

He paused.

"I know there's nothing I can do to make up for what I've done," he continued when he found it in himself to do so. "But I'm here for you, in whatever way you need me. I always will be. And Tony is, too. If you want to come stay with us after you're released from the hospital, our home is open for you. If you don't want anything to do with us after this...I understand that, too."

Now his own cheeks were wet again. He sniffed. "And I promise you, I'm going to get justice for you and Harvey. The Joker...he escaped, but I will find him. I will make him pay. Then, I will make sure he's put into Arkham and that they throw away the key."

He finished up his impromptu speech just in the nick of time. Not a second later, Elizabeth appeared in the doorway with a doctor and two nurses. He could tell by the looks on all of their faces that it wasn't good news, and his heart sunk further into his stomach than it had before. But, he wasn't going to ask about it when it was not his place to. He was Rachel's oldest friend, but he wasn't family.

"Thank you for letting me visit," he whispered to Elizabeth as he walked out, grabbing her by the arm gently.

The smile she gave him now was less than half-hearted, coming out as more of a grimace. "Of course," she said.

He turned around briefly once he left the room, unable to stop himself. Before the door closed, he saw Elizabeth sit down in the chair she'd been sitting in earlier. She clamped a hand to her mouth as a sob came out of her throat. One of the nurses grabbed her shoulder comfortingly. The other gave him a somber look as she shut the door.

Bruce wondered if that was going to be the last time he ever saw Rachel.

In the days after that, he received no updates from Elizabeth or Jim about Rachel outside of what he had already been told and seen with his own eyes: she was stable, but still in her coma, and the doctors did not think they could bring her out of it anytime soon.

No change was good news, he tried to convince himself. It meant she was still alive. It also meant that the road to recovery ahead of her was only becoming longer and longer, but he selfishly wanted to believe that she would think that preferable to being dead. He didn't think he could handle putting another friend into the ground.

Harvey's funeral was that Sunday, as he'd always said he hadn't wanted it to be something flashy or showy. It was a private affair. Only he, Tony, Elizabeth, Jim, Katherine Aritza, and a few others were in attendance. Elizabeth had decided to have Harvey cremated, since both of his parents were gone and she was the one currently in charge of her daughter's affairs, and his body...even doing a closed-casket ceremony would've been a gross injustice to him.

For the entire ceremony, he and Tony kept Elizabeth between them. She sobbed into his shoulder when the urn was put into the ground, letting out bloodcurdling wails that sent Tony into action as her fellow omega. He hugged her, making trills like she was a family member and not someone who he had barely met up until now. They took her back to her home together. She fell asleep on the drive there.

On Monday, still with there being no sign of the Joker coming out from hiding, Bruce walked into Wayne Enterprises. It wasn't Tuesday, when his weekly lunches with Lucius usually occurred, but he was known for dropping in every once in a while since he did own the company. As such, people barely batted an eye at his presence outside of the usual swooning that occurred behind his back. But that, he was used to.

He went up the elevator to the floor Lucius' office was on. His secretary was clacking away at her keyboard, but she looked up as he approached. "Mr. Wayne," she said, readjusting her glasses. "You're here...early. Is everything alright?"

"Fine," he answered noncommittally. "Is Lucius in?"

"Yes."

"Does he have a minute?"

Her lips pursed. "I can make him one."

"Thank you, Jennifer."

He rapped his knuckles against the open door as he walked in before closing it behind him. Lucius looked up from his paperwork, wholly unsurprised to see him. "Mr. Wayne," he greeted. He took off his reading glasses, putting them down on his desk. "What can I do for you?"

Bruce glanced over at the TV. As always, it was playing CNN. They weren't reporting on the going ons of Gotham anymore. He supposed that was a plus. "I think you know why I'm here, Lucius."

Lucius sighed. "I do." He gestured to their usual lunch table for them to sit at. "I saw what happened. I'm sorry about your friends."

"Sorry." He'd heard that word so much over the past six days, it had ceased to have all meaning to him.

What was the point of saying it, after all? One could not be apologetic for a death they had no part in. He could be sorry for it, because he did. Saying "sorry" was an expression of sympathy, but he was getting tired of that sympathy. It wasn't something that he deserved.

"And you saw that the Joker escaped?"

"I did." Lucius' mouth twitched. "I take it that's why you're here?"

Leave it to Lucius to get directly to the point.

"Yes," Bruce said. "I take it you have something that could help me?"

"Perhaps," Lucius responded cryptically. "I think I need an idea of what you're trying to do first."

"I know that one of the most recent projects the R&D Department has been working on is a set of infrared goggles in greyscale with a built-in computer to them, designed to be able to magnify as needed, up to four hundred feet," he spoke. "How has that project been going?"

"The project was killed. Although we are a military contractor, the cost for making and maintaining the goggles would've been too high. But," Lucius added with a smirk, "the prototype is still in storage. I take it that you're going to want it?"

"If you wouldn't mind giving it to me."

Lucius chortled. "It's your company, Mr. Wayne. You own it. You don't need to ask my permission."

The goggles would come in handy. There was only the one pair, so only he would be able to use them. But if he could see where the Joker was going as he ran after him...if he could trace him back to wherever his hiding place was...they would be more priceless than they already were now that they were the only ones of their kind.

Lucius cocked his head. "What else?"

Rather than tell him, Bruce took a notepad out from his jacket's inner pocket. He placed it on and slid it across the table. Lucius made a show of holding the notepad out in front of him at a distance instead of getting up and collecting his reading glasses. His eyes squinted as he read over what was described, his mouth moving in silence to the words.

When he was finished, he looked up with a grim smile. "I believe we can do all three of these things," he said. "You really aren't playing games anymore, are you?"

"After what he did? No. Oh, and one more thing." He pulled out something else from his jacket's inner pocket, a small, one-inch container with metal shavings in it. "I need you to do a chemical analysis of this for me."

"Of course." There was no mention or ask about why he was asking Lucius to do this and not the police, Tony, or anybody else. The other alpha scrutinized the contents of the container. "Any idea of what you think it is?"

Bruce inclined his head. "Vibranium."

Lucius froze, his eyes flitting back to him. "Wasn't the last of it used to make Steve Rogers' shield?"

"I think that's what the Wakandans wanted us all to think," Bruce corrected. He checked the time. "I need to get going. If it is vibranium, don't contact the US government about it. Actually, don't tell anyone else at all about it. I'll need to figure out what to do first."

Because if the metal that had been used for Rachel's and Harvey's cages was vibranium like he was thinking, unable to shake the possibility of it away as unlikely as it sounded, that left only two questions in his mind: 1) how had the Joker gotten the vibranium, and 2) who had managed to get the world's rarest mineral out of what equally had to therefore be the most secretive country in the entire world?

Word Count: 5,226

Next Chapter Title: back to black