The Dark Saint.
Volume 1: Shadow of the Bat.
Chapter 1: Pamela and I.
I'm safe where I am. I'm warm where I am. Nothing is going to get me here. Nothing is going to hurt me. There's silence. Warmth is still around me like a cloak. Nothing can-
"Babe…"
Nothing-
"Babe…."
No-
"Babe!" my girlfriend jostles me awake, her red hair wild and her green eyes full of excitement, she lounges against me. She's a little taller than me, her hair wavy and a little messy from our bed. Her hands are warm, touching my back and I groan, looking up at the ceiling.
"Honey… I was trying to sleep in~!" My voice whines as she just giggles and shimmies up, her lips soft and her body pressed up to mine. I just want to stay in bed kissing her and holding her.
"Grayson, it's time to go, you've been sleeping in all week." she plays with my hair a little, "Maybe get a haircut, shave, I don't want you looking like a hobo."
"Pamela, come on, beards are cool." a smile cocks on my lips, "You weren't complaining last night."
"D- Hey!" she sits up, cheeks as red as her hair, "I… I… ugh!" she crosses her arms and looks away, she's so cute when she gets pissed off like this.
"Gotcha, Pamela~!" I kiss her on the lips for a brief second, "Besides, I should thank you for staying over."
She smiles just a bit, "Well, uh… don't mention it, okay?" she plays with a few strands of her hair.
"Why not?"
She reaches over to the nightstand for her glasses, "Because you shouldn't. You don't need to thank me, pumpkin." she kisses me on the nose and gets up with a coy smile, the one that says, 'I'm smarter than you.'
I chuckle and get up myself, marching to the bathroom and getting a good look at myself in the mirror. My bagged blue-green eyes stare at me from a shadowy black mess of hair. I slick it back and Pamela stops on her way out, with me mid-shave. The five o'clock shadow is fading from my face.
She leans against the doorway, grinning at me and blowing me a kiss, "See you later, honey~!"
"Love you," I smile and go back to shaving. I do my best, my phone pinging again and again. A few days before Halloween and I was born. Twenty one years ago today. I wonder if Mom came to town? Ooh, maybe Dick and Kory and the girls did! Or…
I shake my head, no. No, Dad wouldn't. My tired eyes meet my chest, remembering it all. Remembering that smile, that loud, shattering laugh. Him. With shaky hands I start the shower, steam and water making it all fade away. Lather-covered scrunchie, rubbing it on my body, seeing the jagged and cruel rip from left pec to right pec, a mock Robin. A joke that haunts me. A dull ache throbs in my jaw, my ribs wince in sympathy.
The shower reminds me of rain. The soft patter of it on my greasy, messy hair just reminds me of that warehouse. Cold and lifeless, more than dead. Flashes of phantom pain crackle across my face and ribs, my eye pounds with a cluster headache pulsing like hell. My arms numb, a painful shocking burning pulsing straight through it all. My breathing catches and my eyes blur. I relive it. More blunt force, more shocking. More laughter.
It wasn't quick.
The water turns cold and I clench my hand into a fist, why do I always remember when she's gone? The big bad future Batman, jumping at his own shadows, remembering everything that happened to him years ago as if it was yesterday.
Batman.
That name reverberates through my skull and shrouds everything in darkness. Batman. Legendary protector of Gotham, the Dark Knight, and my father. His shadow eclipses all I could ever do or be. I lean against the wall, weakly curling into a ball. Head on my knees, scarred chest still burning. The blood, God there was so much blood. Mine, his, Dad's… didn't matter. Years later I'm still trying to clean it off.
Twenty one going on fourteen… eight left.
I wash my hair, my eyes closing, thinking of her. Thinking of Pamela, hair crimson and tied back from her face, green eyes intensely focused on her drink as if wanting to burn it into her memory. My life changed when I met her. It always does when other people enter. I want so badly to grit my teeth and not feel what I feel right now. I want to forget. Just get rid of the mock robin and the blood.
Eight left.
I step out of the shower, steam cloaking me and warming my skin. I grab a towel and dry off, my hair covering my eyes and my face in damp darkness. I comb it out of my way and tie it back. Putting in my earbuds and firing up Where Is My Mind? My day goes by, going to class was normal enough for me. Nobody speaks to me and that's good. I don't like the attention all that much.
The fact that I was famous back home is never lost, still a shadow of my past that I just want to bury. The others avoid me, good. That's good. Better even. I know it's hypocritical to have Pamela living with me but she understands. She's a child of Gotham, like me. There's a certain automatic trauma when it comes to Gothamites. They're spacey, flighty, and they jump at shadows or bitterly accept them. You better believe we have the strongest umbrellas on the market because of the acid rain.
Sitting on a bench overlooking the plaza is a bowed man, leaning on a cane. Wearing a normal looking newsboy hat. His graying dark hair shoved under it. Blue eyes showing gunmetal in the dreary day. Salt and pepper beard covering his face too. Looks like he grew it himself. My dad, Bruce Wayne, savior of Gotham and hardened by years of being its noble protector.
He's wearing what I can only assume is Dad's Matches Malone wear but he's shaky. I sit down next to him, he glances towards me. Last time we were like this I was moving out with Mom. He didn't have the cane then.
"You shaved." his voice is filled with warmth and maybe a little pride? Dad's voice is thick and rough, marred with years of breathing in Gotham's air. There's a soft whirring as he reaches into his bag for something.
"Dad, you don't have to-"
"I want to, Grayson." he forces a small box into my hands, "Happy birthday." Sometimes he does this whole performative thing where he just lipservices that he cares about me. I open it and of course it's…
"Wine?"
Dad chuckles, "You ARE twenty-one now. Plus you could share it with that girlfriend I heard about." Shock snaps through me when I hear that. It's almost like a gunshot went off in my mind. I shake myself out of it and glare at him.
"Did Dick tell you?" By the looks of it he didn't get it from Dick or Kory, so I can't fucking believe him. I can't fucking BELIEVE my Dad would use the damn Batcomputer to-
"Grayson? Who's this?" Pamela marches up and everything gets even more awkward as she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me closer to her. Dad doesn't flinch or even react all that strongly.
"I'm his father, Bruce." Dad nods at her and smiles, "And you're the famous Pamela Isley, your mother and I go way back."
"Uh huh, I know all about it. Kinda tough to date my boyfriend knowing his Dad threw my mama in prison back in the day." she glares at him and then back to me, "And well, what happened to him while being there."
A tense silence takes over the moment. Everything kind of sets in and we're just sitting there. Dad creaks up, the whirring a little stronger but he leans against his cane, smiling.
"Take good care of him, Pamela."
He walks away and Pamela huffs softly, "Elitist rich prick…"
"Hey."
"I wasn't talking about you, baby." she kisses me on the cheek, the soft sensation of bliss courses through me. I hate that she's so hostile towards the kinds of people she'd be hanging out with if we got married.
At the same time though that's part of the charm.
"We got wine though,"
Her smile says it all.
Pamela and I can barely contain ourselves, sometimes she leads but this time, I do. My teeth dig softly into her neck with a growl, squeezing her soft body close. She laughs, her hands tangling into my hair.
"Oh baby," her voice is breathy, panting with desire, "Why aren't you like this more often?" I don't pull back, licking at her bite mark, trailing up to her jaw and feeling her removing my shirt and clambering down to shove down my pants.
Once she does I'm almost completely bare, picking her up and gently laying her on the bed, her crimson hair spreading out on the pillows. But I hesitate. I stop myself. My breath comes out fast and soft. I back off, there's something wrong. I know there is. This is too easy. Too- God god god. No no no. No. No. This can't… God, this can't… Dad came here and-
"Grayson?" Pamela sits up, "Look at me, baby."
I meet her gaze and she reaches up, touching my cheek, "Shh…" her lips brush against mine, my mind still buzzing and she realizes it. Her eyes are still meeting mine and she grabs my shoulders.
"Grayson, hey. What do you see?"
"I see…" my eyes drift towards the ceiling, "The ceiling… I see you."
She nods, "And what do you hear?"
I close my eyes, focusing on the sounds beyond her. The frogs and the rain, the soft rumbling thunder, the breath of the wind. All of it the gods working together to make a storm. A heavyish storm that rumbles and grumbles.
"The storm."
Pamela nods, "What do you feel?"
"The blankets, your hands on my shoulders, how soft it all is…" a shaky breath steams out of my mouth. My heartbeat calms in my chest and my head stops buzzing so much. Pamela touches foreheads with me, breathing softly with me.
Five…
Four…
Three…
Two…
One.
Calmer. Silent. The drum of the rain on the roof, the sight of her, the taste of her lips still sweet on my tongue. Everything just made me more calm. Her eyes close and her lips brush against mine again.
All I love about her is in one moment, encapsulated in time in my memory. Her smile is all I need. All I want and everything I need. She's my cure. My escape. All I want to be is her's. All I want to be is her's…
Forever. Her green eyes burn deep into me, almost completely consuming me. Pamela Lillian Isley, I'm going to be yours forever.
She kisses me deep, sinking towards my chest. Closing my eyes and feeling her kissing every inch of me. Tears fall down my cheeks, and she kisses them away too. And then we're one. Featherlight touches and moans, the blankets flowing around us. The bad memories choked with vines, the Joker's crowbar stayed by her ivy vines. Our rage, our anger, everything burns within us like a flaming tide bursting hydrogen and oxygen into salty sweat, her warm voice, her strong arms, all of them shielding me. Her fingers hook into my back, gouging rivulets of scarlet blood. She's cutting into me, cutting into the shaky little son of Gotham. Lost in the waves of pleasure.
Heat, softness, the solidness of her arching against me, her crimson hair whispering near my shaven face, my cleaned body. She makes me better, makes me strive for better. She's my world. Pamela cries out, her cry being muffled by my messy kiss, lacing our fingers together with a soft smile as I trace her palm with my thumb. Everything bleeds into exhaustion for me, softly landing on her chest, my head resting near the soft beat of her heart. I wish I could hear it forever.
She lifts me up a little and grins at me, "I love you..." she whispers, "I love you, Grayson..."
I lift her hand to my cheek, pecking her palm, "Pammy?"
"Hmm?" she smiles and raises a crimson eyebrow, her expression coy.
"Marry me." she chuckles and sits up, kissing me deeper.
"If we're lucky, Grayson." she answers.
"Awww, I thought I made a convincing argument..." I hang my head and she laughs.
"Sex, my dear, doesn't convince me." she pecks me on the lips, "You have to work on yourself first."
"Right… but how do I start?" I ask as she curls up beside me, my hand gently running through her hair. She looks up at me and touches my newly shaved face. Her eyes were full of hope. Something I wish I still had…
Gotham changes you.
"Just keep going, Grayson. I'm gonna be right here if you need help." she closes her eyes and settles down, "Now close your eyes and get some sleep, okay?"
"Pamela?"
"Hm?"
"Leave the light on, okay?"
"Of course, honey."
I close my eyes and fall asleep, Pamela by my side. Gotham is far away from me. Time for me to improve myself.