The Dark Saint.
Volume 1: The Shadow of the Bat.
Chapter 3: In Love with a Bat.
College is fun, they said.
It'll be a learning experience, they said.
Well, I don't know about them, but this isn't my idea of a fun college experience. All I want to do is curl into a little ball and cry in the corner. Of course, I can't do that. I look down into my drink with a sigh. That's when he drifts in. Black hair, green eyes, he's taller than me. Just slightly. He nervously fidgets and I pat the stool next to me. The thumping music might be overwhelming for him. He looks to be like that.
"What's your name?" I call over the music.
He flinches and looks at me, "Gray… Grayson!" he exclaims, "My name is Grayson!"
I chuckle and he calms down. There's a relaxing in his shoulders. His body is well built, maybe he's another jock? I take a deep breath.
"I'm Pamela Isley." I yell over the music. He smiles, and I notice the glimmer in his eyes, he's not scanning me like a hungry wolf or a guy that wants to bed me. He seems kind and a little jumpy.
"My last name's Kyle!" he yells back.
"Grayson Kyle?!" I echo.
"Yep! Hey, why don't we step outside so I can hear you better?!" he calls as I get off the stool and we both head outside into the cold Seattle night. There's a little buzz to my head but I can't look away from him. Something about him just interests me. Draws me in. The way he moves is fascinating. Smooth with barely a jolt or a wasted movement. His leather jacket over a white shirt, he's not wearing jeans but cargo pants, also dark.
When we get outside, he stands next to me and I notice his stance is rigid. 'An Army brat? ROTC?' I think, 'No. No, Pamela, just ask him about his deal.' I huff softly and his eyes lock with mine.
'Shit.' I bite the inside of my cheek, "Uh… what's your major?" I spit out.
"Psychology." he states, his voice is soft and warm. Almost like my Dad's home state. He smiles and that's when it hits me hard. God, why did you make the weird ones handsome? I nod.
"Cool, I'm a Botany major. My mom did it so it carried down to me I guess." I reason.
"Do you really want to do that?" he asks.
"Maybe? I don't know." I see him nod.
"Well, my family seems to have a history with the uh… criminally insane." Grayson says, "My Dad was big in that scene."
"Was he…"
"A psychologist? No. He was very different." he says, "I actually want to try to help who he's dealt with. Make it better."
"You're making it sound like he's Batman." I giggle at that, "You know. Criminally insane? Being very different? Stuff like that?"
Grayson smirks, "Hm. Reaching." he says.
"I am NOT." I huff.
"You are."
"Nope."
"Mmhm."
He gently takes my drink and sets it on the railing. I barely noticed that we were on a balcony. Grayson's eyes just show the humor in this all and I swat him gently on the shoulder.
"Still! I had a point, Mr. Dark!" I snap.
"Right, right." he agrees.
I scoff and glance at him, "So, Kyle, right? Like Selina Kyle?"
"The one and only." he states, still keeping his gaze brief. But he's avoiding eye contact. Is he scared of me?
"Hey, you don't need to be scared of me," I see him flinch and turn towards me,
"Right, yeah." he says, "Anyway… it was ah… nice meeting you, Pamela." I go after him, grabbing his wrist.
"Wait." I say, "Who are you really, Grayson?" I ask.
"Who am I?" he echoes, "Pamela, that's a weird question."
"Still, it's not adding up." I huff, "How are you this built? Crossfit? Martial Arts?"
He gets pensive, looking down, "Pamela, I can't… I can't tell you that."
I move away from him and he follows me like a lost puppy. Of course I don't even try to shake him. He's harmless, just… he clings onto my arm. His eyes hurt as if he's picking out glass from gashes.
"I'm…" he mutters, "I'm sorry, okay? It's a family thing."
I smile and take his hands, "Well, Mr. Dark… I wanna dance with you." I start to sway, leading him on a dance, waltzing with him and making it close. I want to see how much I can get him to crack.
He's so cute, but his motions are smooth and clinical.
He whirls me, his face having a slight smirk to it. He's a Jersey boy from the looks of him. Even if his voice sounds like back home. I lightly brush my hands against his face. Back against that solid chest, arms tenting me.
Smooth, a little stubbly. Heat comes from my fingers as he looks down at me.
"E… Ey… Stop it." he drawls in his accent.
"Haha… cute! You're cute, Grayson." I giggle, seeing his cheeks turn redder. We end up happily sitting against the wall, watching the stars and the moon, the party still going strong but I don't give a fuck.
Grayson Kyle, the man of mystery, looks so innocent. I'm so happy. Just before while we were inside he was so jumpy. Now he's happily holding onto me. All I want is to reveal a little more of him. I know I might be crazy to believe in something like this. We head out towards my apartment in a somewhat tipsy haze. On the way we kind of take a backroad. We aren't driving, just walking. In the night I already knew that someone was tailing us. Judging by Grayson's tensing I huddle closer.
Then, it moves. A man with a knife hurries over to us. With the blade gleaming in the light, I already get out my wallet but Grayson stands still, his eyes focused on the weapon.
"Gimme your cash." the mugger says, "Don't make this hard." he points the knife towards Grayson and in seconds the mugger is grabbed and slammed down. Grayson's eyes wide and mouth set in a snarl.
"You scum…" he snarls, "You're everywhere."
I watch as he digs his nails into the man's arm, "I'm giving you this one chance. Pick up your knife and go on your way." he continues.
The mugger whines, "Okay! Okay, just lemme go!"
"Good. At least you're reasonable." he says, letting the man go and looking up at me. The first thing I do is start forward but Grayson shirks back, breathing fast. He's hyperventilating. He looks so small now and vulnerable.
His hands shake gently as he buries his fingers into his hair, moaning softly.
"No… nonono… god…" he hisses, crumpling, "No…"
I kneel and grab his shoulders, "Grayson. Look at me." his mint green eyes fearfully jerk up to mine.
"Pam… I…" he mumbles, "No… you weren't supposed to see that."
I grab his face gently with my hands, "Shshshsh. Look at me. Breathe. In and out." He slowly does. His fear going away. I smile and pat his cheek.
"See?" I ask, "It's over, you're okay. You saved me."
"I… I did?" he warbles, I scooch over, and he doesn't back away.
"Listen, Grayson. How about you stay over tonight?" I ask. He fidgets and looks down at the pavement.
"I… I can't." he says, "Not that I don't want to. Just…" his shoulders hitch and my hands start getting wet, "I… I think I ruined it." He's crying and I sigh. All I want him to understand is that he's okay. He's okay and I'm okay and we're alright together.
"Ruined what?" I wonder, "It's not every day a guy slams a mugger for me."
"How are you so…" he starts and I cut in.
"Casual about it? Please, my family goes through worse." I stand up and offer my hand to him.
"Let's go home, Grayson."
That's how I met my boyfriend for the first time. He took my hand and I pulled him along with me. Ever since, he's been mine.
Waking up in his arms was something I always woke up to. His body is so close to mine. Muscular and scarred a little. The biggest one is on his chest, a pec to almost armpit rip that curved over his nipples. He snoozes and rolls over, his stuffed animal cat Beauregard perched dangerously over the floor, hand loosely holding his fluffy tail.
He stayed up late again, shaving for more than an hour. He's almost obsessive when it comes to personal grooming, his appointment with the hairdresser being long because he wanted things to be a specific length. I lean over and kiss him on the cheek, my poor little boyfriend. Burning the midnight oil every night because of so many things he's scared of. Since Harley's been helping him he's been getting better…
I get out of bed and he fidgets, letting out the tiniest of whimpers.
"It's okay, I'm just getting up."
He shifts, "No…" he mumbles, "No… Pammy…" he reaches for me and I can't help but get back in bed and back into his waiting arms. He's almost like a child. He rests his head against my chest, arms wrapping around my middle as I rub his bare back and work my way up.
My sleepy little boyfriend, holding me, his soft breath and even softer (greasy) hair hallmarks of him. Not just him. The scars, the stuffed animals, the gadgetry he has, and how orderly he is. There's a war going on and I have no idea how to help. He and I lay in bed. One of the only places where we really have common ground. His war, his struggle, it's not mine. But I want it to be. Then there's a little pair of orange eyes peeking around the doorway corner.
He stirs and gently pushes me off, "Hmmm? Is somebody hungry?" he looks at the tiny kindle of kittens marching in. I glare at him and he gets up.
"I'm coming, Mr. Kitty…" he yawns, "Doyle, Verne, King…" the four kittens all do 'I love you' eyes and follow him in a wave of black. I get up and hurry over to my plants, making sure none of them got any bites out of them.
The four kittens all bunch around him on the floor, eating from a long bowl. He's been feeding them ever since we found their mother, Shelley. She's a slender, sleek little queen with long black fur, watching her four boys while draped on my boyfriend's shoulders. Sometimes I want to tell him to let them go but he looks so happy watching them eat and come in through the window overlooking the rest of this part of town that I can't tell him. So I make some tea and watch him give each of them special attention.
He's got a smile on his face, a soft curl to those lips of his that lights up his entire face. His serious expression fades like a snap of the fingers. He feeds them, plays with them, then sends them away. He has a way with them that makes me think that he's much more than meets the eye. The muscles, the scars, the gadgets he's already made, he's more than just a trust fund kid and the son of two rich people.
He passes by me, wrapping his arms around me and engulfing me in his warmth, slightly rumbling. Almost like he's purring. He kisses the top of my head.
"Purring helps heal," his tone is quiet, succinct. He doesn't have much of an accent, not when he's calm.
"What? Am I hurt?"
"No, you're not. But I am." he turns me around and his lips are on mine, pressing me against the counter, the scent of his deodorant mixed with his shampoo floats gently into my nose. I close my eyes.
My hands gently clasp the back of his head, pulling him closer. God, I love him. I almost fully give myself to him before…
My phone rings and I'm jolted away from him. He's staring at it with wide eyes and backing up with a grimace. His shoulders jerk up and his jaw sets. He smooths his hair and ruffles it back up before moving away from me.
I answer, "Hello?"
"Pamela, we need to talk about what happened a few nights ago." the prim, clear voice of my boss, Dr. Jason Woodrue, cuts me down to the bone. I smile.
"Right, sir. Do you want me to come in?"
"Yes. We're to discuss our next plan of action. This is important, Pamela. It's not just your future on the line." I wilt and Grayson snaps to attention, padding over to somewhere behind me and adjusting something.
'It's bothering me.' he mouths, 'Have a good day.'
"I understand, sir." Grayson perks up and hurries back over to me, almost looking like he wants to say something. But really he's just standing there waiting for me to get off the phone.
He hangs up and Grayson holds me in his arms again, "Pamela, honey. Something went wrong, right?" he's perceptive. That's one thing I can't not like about him. Sighing, I lean into his chest.
"I have to go to work,"
"Oh." he backs off, "Okay." his worried expression deepens, "Pamela, I got… well, I got really bad vibes from that place. Just promise me you won't get hurt."
I smile and kiss him on the chin, "I promise, Grayson."
He passes me something as I leave. A set of claws. Metal, five of them.
"You get in trouble, you slash that guy in the balls. You call the police, then me. Then if I get there first, I'll subdue him and THEN call my Mom to bail me out." he smiles and I open the door, leaving the comforting mess that was our apartment and going into the world. A laugh bubbles up from my throat as I make my way to my car, just the silly idea that Grayson would beat the cops on his souped up motorbike, riding in like a knight in shining leather just to beat the shit out of my boss is so fun to think of.
Driving back to the facility is harder than I thought it would be. Just the feeling in my gut that I might get fired from the job I always wanted to work, the job that the world needs. Someone to care about the planet we live on, the plants and those we share it with. I know, I know. It's hypocritical of me to be dating Grayson considering who his father and mother are. I drive on, still thinking about what Dr. Woodrue could possibly want from me. I pull into the lot.
Deep breath, fix the hair, checking the makeup. I look down at the picture of Grayson and I he taped to the dash when we went to the renaissance faire in the city. I touch it, closing my eyes and letting out another sigh.
"I love you, Grayson."
Opening the car door I step out into the world, the facility is a low building, shale gray and attached to it is a greenhouse. Grayson was at the back end, classic entrance point for a thief, almost as though he wanted to be found.
I shove that way back in my mind and scan my card, opening the door and getting inside the humid greenhouse, the plants softly whispering to me. I can't understand them yet but Mama always could…
Then I feel him. Hands on my shoulders, patting them briefly, "Good morning, Pamela!" Dr. Woodrue looms over me, his sharp, deep blue eyes cutting into the back of my head. There's the sinking of dread, the digging in of his voice.
Almost as if I could get scooped out for no reason. He lingers still behind me, "Do you know why I'm mad at you?"
"Yes."
"Because of that little… boy of yours." he spits that out almost as if he was mad because Grayson beat him to the punch, suck it, asshole. But his hands drift to my cheeks after he turns me around.
He studies my face, my chest, up and down. Left and right. Blue eyes undressing me and all I want to do is slash his eyes out. I have Grayson's claws and I'm dating one of the most powerful men in one of the most powerful families of Gotham, even if we were in Seattle I'm sure Bruce would have some pull here.
But the fear is still there. Still present even as he begins the work, putting things away? What? Woodrue's smile curdles my stomach and he continues to pack things up.
"Thanks to your mentally ill little boytoy I have to relocate our facility." he looks at me pointedly, almost like he wanted me to agree with him that Grayson was mentally ill.
I wouldn't say it out loud. He has issues, workable ones.
"Where?" I ask.
"The one place that allows this sort of thing, my dear… Gotham." his arms go around my shoulders, "He won't dare follow you there, will he?"
I close my eyes, the claws fit perfectly over my hand. One stab and he's gone. There's a soft inhale and I force myself away from him. He undid my bun.
"Keep it professional, sir. Please."
He chuckles, "If you say so."
I roll back my sleeves and…
I get into the shower, dodging Grayson on my way in. Turning it onto hot I stand under the spray. I barely noticed the cleaned house and managed everything. I just… god. I hate this. I hate having to ruin my boyfriend's entire recovery.
My fist pounds against the wall, sliding down on my knees, "Fuck…"
"Pammy? Babe?" Grayson's voice floats through the door crack, "Bad day?"
"Yeah…" I say back.
"Okay, come out when you're ready. I love you." he moves away and there's tears mixed with the water. I don't want to go. I don't want to be in that place anymore. The water washes Woodrue's touch away. I don't ever want Grayson to go back there either.
Coming through the door is Fly Me to the Moon and I don't want to break my boyfriend's heart. He's been doing so much better and he's been happier. Even content. The statistics are horrifying and even more so is how nobody does anything to make it better. At least not anymore. I get out of the shower and dry myself off, heading out in my more comfortable clothing with Grayson darting in behind me and hugging me tightly around my middle, picking me up.
"Gotcha~!" he coos with a happy giggle. I can't help but smile. He buries his face into my hair, nuzzling and kissing the back of my neck. My cheeks heat up and I almost don't want to tell him what Woodrue wants.
He sets me down near the table, almost glowing with excitement. He's got dinner ready and he's practically bouncing.
"Come on, come on, sit down!" he sits down at the other end, it's not a big table so we're across from each other. I do so and he sets up the music, "And let there be romance!"
Candles lit, everything low, he's smiling and almost completely pumped up. It's adorable. He's so happy. He breaks out the wine he got from his father. Popping it open and pouring it into his own glass and then mine.
"So, you had a bad day. Was he being a creep?" I nod at that and he clicks his tongue.
"Oof, ouch, you should've used your new claws." he starts eating and his face scrunches up before dropping it back on his plate, "Glah, ohokay, do NOT eat that."
I try it anyway, it tastes fine but I get why he spat it out. He made my favorite, not his. His tastes are very picky so it's natural he's going to not like it. He only did it to remind himself that he doesn't like what I eat.
He smiles and I take a drink of my wine, looking over the glass at him.
"Grayson? Can we talk?" I ask, smiling. Lay on the charm, keep him calm. He perks up and smiles back, nodding eagerly.
"Well, today was a bad day, but there's some news that you might hate more than that." I swirl the wine a little and he tenses.
"Who do I gotta beat up?" he growls with a vengeance in his tone. I giggle.
"No, it's nothing like that. Because of your little breakdown it spooked Dr. Woodrue enough to relocate."
"Please let it be somewhere where it's too far for you to commute to." he breathes, almost hopeful but then I drop it right into the ground…
"It's in Gotham."
"Gotham, Kansas?"
"No. Gotham City, New Jersey."
His face falls, his head leans against his arms, "Pamela, no. We're not going to Gotham."
"Who said you had to go?" I rise a little, "I'm going. You don't have to."
"Pamela, you're still a student here! You… you know the statistics, you KNOW what happens!" his eyes are wide, his breath coming out fast, "You can't quit?"
"If I quit then my future is on the line, OUR future is on the line!" I snarl, wilting at how he's almost in tears. He screws his eyes shut and steadies his gaze.
"Pamela. I can't let you go on your own." he has that dark determination, that steel voice, going from my lovely boy to the man his father wanted him to be. It scares me. I look down at my hands.
"Grayson, I… I…" Looking back up I see him slick his hair back and lean into his chair with a soft, almost heavy sigh. I reach across for his hand and he holds mine.
"Couch?" he asks.
"No." I almost want to jump into his arms right then and there. I know this hurts, I know he hates long distance anything. He gets too jumpy, too excited, and too worried to think straight. My sweet little boyfriend. My knight in shining leather.
I come around the table, settling into his lap and holding him as he squeezes me back, "Honey, I'll quit, I promise. I promise. We won't have to do this. We won't have t-"
His gaze locks with mine, "I'll protect you." his voice is soft but strong, "We'll get through this together and I won't let any of those scumbags that're there touch you. Your boss tries anything at all and I'll tear him to shreds."
He kisses my neck, going up and meeting my lips, his worry and fear apparent as he wraps his arms around me. I couldn't understand the war he was fighting, but I know why now.
He loves me.
"Pamela… I love you. You're my entire world. I'm… I don't deserve you."
Oh Grayson Matthias Wayne, you don't get it. You're already strong enough. Already deserving. I kiss you and hold you and I wish I could give you my entire heart and show you just how much I love you.
Because I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Broken, flawed, but trying. Always trying and keeping your head held high.
"I know."
He hoists me up and carries me to bed, the wine and dinner forgotten. He blew out the candles during our spat. Always caring about the small things. He lays us down and holds me closer than ever.
I roll over to look him in the eyes. He's almost already passed out, but he rouses a little. I kiss him on the forehead.
We'll get through this. And no matter what…
I'll always return to you.