A/N: Non-censored version of the story on AO3: archiveofourown(dot-org)/works/684270
It was busy outside at this time of day, especially considering the fact that things were starting to grow warmer again. All of the snow was gone by now and even though a chill still remained in the air, the sun was warm enough to counter the wind's bite. John hoped that spring truly was here and that winter was finally behind them, appreciating the freshness of the air as he took deep breaths.
He walked to the library where he rented a few minutes of time on one of the computers since he had left the apartment in too much of a rush. John looked up a car and truck rental company within walking distance and printed off the map, continuing on his mission without lingering. He turned on the GPS and inputted the given coordinates to confirm that the distance indicated was undoubtedly beyond the city limits and then walked into the rental building to find a cheap car he could rent for the day.
Once everything was sorted he headed for the Midtown tunnel. The GPS was telling him to head in the opposite direction but John knew he would have to get onto the mainland to reach an accessible highway he could use; the destroyed bridges were under repair but they would still take time. In the car John had a chance to look around more of Gotham, taking in the destruction of war he had not been able to see from where he had walked the last few weeks.
Some of the roads were raised, giving a better view, and traffic was horribly slow near the tunnel with security checks being completed for anyone trying pass through the tunnel. This left John staring at his ruined city, some buildings scorched and crumbling even though the blood stains had been washed away from the sidewalks and gutters. The lump in John's throat grew thicker, choking him and forcing John to turn his gaze forward before he got anymore worked up.
John approached the tunnel at a crawl and rolled down his window as a police officer he didn't know stepped up to the car. John handed over his ID and explained that he was going out of town to visit a friend for the day, but that he would be back after a few hours. He added that they were planning to do some rock climbing to de-stress, which was a good decision since a minute later the cop nodded and asked what was in the bag. John showed him the harness and the GPS, and got out of the car obediently to show the cop his trunk and the back of his car before he was finally cleared to leave.
"Don't stay out too late," the cop warned him as John slid back into the driver's seat. "It's a bigger hassle getting re-admitted after dark."
"I'll keep that in mind, thanks," John gave a friendly smile and started the engine, finally heading through the tunnel and on his way.
The drive itself was relatively short after John managed to pass through the tunnel. The majority of the drive included heading back to the opposite end of town and then just continuing on a little further. The mainland roads were flowing at a relatively normal pace and there was no damage to drive around. John enjoyed the drive, turning up the volume of the music on the radio and rolling down the windows enough for chilled air to blast him in the face. John felt his adrenaline spike and then seep out of him, leaving him with a smile and relaxed muscles. It felt good to leave everything briefly behind as he pushed the car a little over the speed limit.
He pulled off the highway at a diner and bought a burger, eating quickly in the car. Then he continued to follow the GPS directions as it led him down increasingly less-traveled roads. Eventually he ended up at a literal end of the road, and John put the car into park before checking the GPS again. The map on the screen was encouraging him onward, into what appeared to be a small forest. There was no road, only a small section of dirt and gravel to indicate that someone might've once driven through the grass before.
John checked the GPS one final time and then shrugged. He shifted gears and began to drive slowly along the path, hearing grass and sturdy weeds scrap against the bottom of the car. The ground was bumpy as John drove over rocks and tree roots but he continued pressing forward. A short distance away from the road John saw the trees beginning to part for a clearing and a relatively large waterfall. John knew he had arrived even before the GPS chimed to indicate that he should stop.
John parked and turned off the car, enveloped for a moment in silence before his ears picked up the various noises of a busy forest. He could hear the distant roar of the waterfall intermixed with the songs of a few birds cheerfully announcing spring. John grabbed the duffel bag and locked the car, approaching the waterfall curiously. Through the cascades of falling water and mist John could see a dark shadow indicating what he assumed was a hole in the cliff face.
Knowing what the harness was now for, John returned the bag with Bruce's letter and the GPS to the car for safekeeping and then began to get everything else set up. He slipped into the harness and got all the buckles done up tightly to fit his body, clipping the flashlight to the harness belt. After that he searched for a branch strong enough to hold his weight. John found the perfect branch from a tree that was overhanging the small gap between the grass he was standing on and the waterfall. From where he was standing John could see that the bark was worn from ropes rubbing against it in the past.
It took a few attempts for John to throw the bundle of rope high enough for it to loop over the branch and fall back to the ground, the loose end already clipped to the harness. Once he was successful John got the other end of the rope tied securely around a tree. He tugged on it a few times to confirm that the knot was strong and then walked to the edge of the clearing, feeling a slight wave of vertigo as he wavered with his toes dangling off the edge. He wasn't up particularly high but swinging in a harness into the complete unknown was a bit daunting.
John took a few deep breaths to centre himself and his mind drifted back to Bane. Now that John was calm he was able to think about Bane without feeling a flash of anger or guilt. He had not handled the discussion well; John knew that. He just couldn't stand feeling belittled, and hearing Bane say that he didn't think John could handle this was about as belittling as it could get. Bane was strong, intelligent and skilled and he probably knew better than John what this sort of goal would require. Although it hurt to hear it, John feared that Bane might be right about this whole idea of taking up Batman's legacy.
Regardless of whether or not Bane was right though, John couldn't let himself give up. It felt too much like failure, even though he knew he would only disappoint himself – Bruce had actually said in his letter that a part of him hoped John wouldn't follow this path. John needed to give this a chance though – he had come so far already – so with one final tug of the rope to confirm it was stable John took a running leap and swung towards the waterfall.
An undeniable jolt of fear had John's body going tense, preparing to hit a stone wall. He wanted to close his eyes and just pray but he couldn't even seem to blink. His whole body was frozen as gravity moved him and the seconds dragged by as he approached the waterfall. John didn't want to hit the waterfall, didn't care what was beyond it as panic gripped him. But then the cold water of the waterfall drenched him and John felt his body awaken.
John sailed through the waterfall and into the cave mouth hidden behind it. His momentum took him far enough into the cave mouth that he wasn't in danger of toppling back out into the pool of water below the waterfall. John did lose his footing as he tried to land, collapsing into a shallow stream rushing further into the cave. His clothes were soaked through but the chill renewed his energy, adding a tremble to his movements as he stood and unhooked the harness quickly, eager to see what he had been led to.
He pinned the harness under a few loose rocks, not knowing if he would need the harness to get back out of the cave. Then he unclipped the flashlight from the harness and walked a few steps further into the cave. The further he got away from the mouth of the cave, the roar of the waterfall and the sunlight filtering in through the water, the darker and damper everything became. Soon John was standing in what he knew must be a cavern, though he couldn't make out many details beyond what was highlighted with the small slivers of sunlight sneaking in from holes in the cave ceiling far above.
John turned on the beacon flashlight and held it aloft, light stretching to fill the cavern. He only managed a quick and awed glimpse at the size of the place before he heard a flurry of wings in the air. John ducked just as he saw a mass of darkness rushing towards him like angry tendrils seeking to destroy the light he was holding. Then he felt wings brush by his face and body as a disturbed colony of bats escaped further into the cavern for some peace.
John straightened slowly, his heart pounding but an awed sense of adventure filling him and pushing him forward. As soon as he had lifted his head he had seen what the cavern held; the rows and columns of tunnels dug into the cave side. There were at least twelve openings, each one bordered by a brick archway and highlighted ever so slightly by lights further down the tunnels.
Possessed by curiosity and excitement, John walked towards the old but strong-looking architecture. He could see that the manmade walkway of brick below the tunnels was raised out of the water, well above where John could reach, but he continued forward anyway with the flashlight illuminating the water he walked through mindlessly. The water was halfway up his thighs and slowing down each of his steps but John trudged forward, already looking for a place to hook up the harness again when suddenly his foot landed on a smooth step rather than rock.
John took another step forward and his body lifted further out of the water. He realized then that his legs were slightly numb from the cold water but that was forgotten when he felt the ground below him tremble for just a moment before it began to rise. John looked down in surprise as a platform rose out of the water, taking him with it, and then immediately looked forward again. John could see that it was lifting high enough for him to reach the brick walkway and he didn't even need to wait for the platform to stop moving before he began walking forward again.
While the mouth of the cave and the first part of the cavern was clearly naturally formed, John could immediately tell that these tunnels and walkways had not only been manmade, but had also been used relatively recently. It was impossible to tell out on the walkway since the dampness of the cavern slicked all the brick, but when John explored further into the tunnels things got drier and he could notice varying layers of dust on the ground.
Some tunnels were caked with dust, John's moving feet kicking it up and making him sneeze, while other tunnels seemed mostly clear and clean. Although it would be impossible to tell for sure, John suspected that the rooms and tunnels only beginning to collect dust were the ones Bruce had probably used before Bane had broken his back and sent him far away to the unnamed prison of Bane's nightmares.
It didn't take John long to find the rooms filled with gadgets and equipment – items that must have taken plenty of money to have made but would have never shown up on Bruce's bills to be taken away when his money was taken away. There was a whole arsenal here, locked away in rooms kept sealed so the dampness of the cave couldn't damage them. John noted that there were no guns in sight; in fact there were few weapons at all, and the ones in sight were non-lethal. The majority of what had been left to John was for hand to hand combat and cloaking. It was about being smart, not about running into any fight without a plan, guns blazing.
John spent a long time exploring and looking around, walking a short distance into a few tunnels before he feared getting lost and turned back. He could hardly believe that all of this had been left to him if he chose to use it. No one alive except for Alfred probably even knew this place or these gadgets existed, and Alfred wasn't going to bother selling them off. Alfred had helped write the will and knew the legacy Bruce was offering John. He wondered if Alfred had the same guilty uncertainty as Bruce on whether they actually wanted John to accept this role or turn his back.
After he had done a bit of exploring John walked back closer to the brick walkway that overlooked the raised platform and the massive cavern. There had been a room John saw when he first stepped off the platform that he wanted to look through. He had been able to see a few large bookshelves stuffed full of books and notebooks packed spine to spine. It had spiked his curiosity but he also got the sense that it was important, and had saved it for last.
Inside he flicked a switch and a few bulbs in the ceiling buzzed and turned on. John barely got a chance to look over the spines to read the titles of the books to see what subjects they were on – many focused on fighting, stealth, technology or history judging by his glance – before his attention was caught by a thin notebook left on the chair in the corner. The notebook was only about the size of an address book, and John picked it up and sat down, flipping it open to read the first page.
He found that the notebook was filled with all the information Bruce could have never risked leaving for John in his letter. It was a reference of everything John would need to know if he was going to carry on Bruce's work. It gave the names of the notebooks John would most likely find useful – schematics for gadgets, maps of the city streets and sewers – and provided discretionary contact information for people who might be able to help John with certain issues. It suddenly made sense to John why Lucius had been at the private funeral when he read in Bruce's scrawl: Lucius Fox – armour and gadgetry.
John wondered if Lucius would be willing to make armour for him or if he had 'retired' from that sort of work when Bruce went missing and, months later, ended up dead. John programmed the contact number into his phone – which he noticed had no signal down here in the cave – and then continued looking through what Bruce had left. The last thing that the notebook explained was where to find a book of maps Bruce had made up for the tunnels connected to the cave, explaining that many of the tunnels could lead back to different parts of Gotham while remaining separate from the sewers.
John kept the smaller notebook in hand as he stood up from the chair and began looking through the shelves of books. When he found the book of maps, which was thick with many full pages of maps, John flipped it open and began studying it. The first few pages showed the tunnels that were closest to the cavern, and it didn't take long for John to narrow his focus to one tunnel that he could take back out into the forest rather than swing back through the waterfall.
His clothes had never gotten a chance to dry with the cavern's damp air and John was finally forced to admit that he should head home. He was chilled and tired, even though it felt like his excitement would leave him limitlessly energetic. John had to remember that he needed to return the rented car and get back before the tunnel security increased, and even if he felt alive and awake now, he still had a lot to do before he could fall into bed and sleep.
John decided to take the book of maps with him to study at home but left the smaller reference book in the room for safekeeping. He closed the door solidly to keep out any excess moisture in the air and then followed the map on one of the first pages. John first passed a room full of small defence gadgets and grabbed a stun gun for good measure. Then he followed a tunnel that first went further into the cavern and then took a sharp left and sloped upward. In here John had to use his flashlight to see, no lights set up on the walls of the tunnel and no breaks of sunlight in the ceiling.
He knew it was probably to make sure the tunnel mouth wasn't lit up in case someone was walking through the forest and he guessed right. By the time John reached the mouth of the tunnel the ceiling was forcing John to bend over slightly, the width of the tunnel only the reach of his arms. The actual mouth of the tunnel was covered by a thick curtain of vines and was behind a few tall, spiky bushes, and while John was relieved to know it was very unlikely for someone to find the tunnel, he was slightly unhappy that his jacket sleeves had gotten somewhat torn up.
Nonetheless, John manoeuvred through the vines and bushes and breathed a sigh of relief when he could stand straight again. He was surprised to see that the sky was changing from a rosy red to a darker purple – the sun was going to set soon. Remembering the cop's warning at the tunnel, John rushed through the forest towards the distant thunder of the waterfall, which led him back to his car.
With a sharp enough tug he was able to pull the harness from beneath the rocks John had left it under. The harness came swinging back through the water and John dragged it up and over the branch, dodging it as the soaked fabric and buckles fell to the ground at his feet. He got everything untied and dropped the wet harness and rope onto the floor of the car, hoping the rental company wouldn't mind if the floor mats and driver's seat was a bit wet.
John had to blast the heat on the drive back, the hot air from the vents slowly thawing out his cold body and drying his clothes until they were just uncomfortably damp against his skin. He had taken so long in the cave that he was hungry again, and he picked up some fries and a sandwich at the same road-side diner he had gotten lunch from. The owner looked him up and down but said nothing as John sat and ate quickly. John wondered if his eyes looked a little wild to the owner.
Getting back through the tunnel didn't take as long as John had feared. Although the cop had warned him about security getting tighter, there were fewer people trying to move in or out of the city as the sun set below the horizon. The drive through the tunnel was a short one and John only had to wait behind a few cars before it was his turn to answer questions, get his car searched a second time, and be sent on his way.
The rental company was a little unhappy that the driver's seat was wet but since there was no dirt on the seat and it would be easy enough to dry the fabric, John didn't get charged extra. While he was still in the warmth of the rental building John reorganized his duffel bag, moving the letter, the sheet of coordinates, the GPS and the book of maps into side pockets while bundling up the still-wet harness and rope into a plastic bag one of the customer service reps was willing to give him. He knew the flashlight would be fine against any moisture but wasn't as confident about the stun gun, keeping that in the pocket of his jacket.
John would admit to himself that he was stalling before heading back to the apartment. He really hadn't left Bane on a good note. What if Bane thought John wasn't planning to come back? Or what if Bane was at home waiting for him, having spent the whole day locked up with his anger building inside him? John had gotten a chance to briefly escape the confines of the apartment and let his anger and hurt fade away; Bane had not.
Regardless of the very real possibility of facing Bane's wrath, John hung the heavy duffel bag from his shoulder and headed back out onto the streets. John and Bane had faced so much uncertainty and hardship, barely even daring to hope that there was a chance for them to be together. They were supposed to be sworn enemies on opposite ends of a physical and moral war. Instead they had fallen in love and, through trust, communication and determination, they had outlived the war and had found a way to be together.
John wasn't going to throw that away because of an argument – which he also reminded himself had stemmed only from Bane's concern for his safety, rather than any malicious intent. John believed that if they could find a way to share their beliefs and compromise to find happiness for them both during a war, they could certainly discuss the possibility of John following Bruce's path rationally. And besides that, John just really wanted to tell Bane about what he had found. The cave, gadgets and knowledge Bruce had left meant that John really could take up Batman's mantle, and he wanted to share that with Bane.
As John was walking he felt his phone buzz in his pocket with an incoming text. He paused mid-step and pulled out the phone, checking the screen. The text was from Jim. I just went to the roof of the precinct. The Bat-Signal is fixed. Do you think it's possible?
No, John was about to text back, because Bruce was dead. John wouldn't have gotten a glimpse of that cave if Bruce was still around and continuing on the legacy of Batman. Nor would the cavern have been so dusty if Bruce had recently been there. It seemed almost certain that Bruce had gotten the light fixture on top of the police building fixed before he died, but that wouldn't bring him back now.
Yes, was the next thing John wanted to text, because he could tell Jim was equally excited and relieved at the possibility that Gotham still had a masked protector to ensure justice even when the police were bound by the law. John wanted to be that person. He wanted to give this city hope and make them feel a little safer each time they stepped outside or turned off the lights to sleep at night.
I don't know, John finally texted back, because he wasn't ready to make any promises. He couldn't make any promises without first talking to Bane.
He shoved the phone back into his pocket again and started walking, but he couldn't get the idea out of his head. He imagined what it would be like to be walking the streets at night and see the Bat-Signal lighting up the sky, calling out for him. Before long, John was fully engrossed in the daydream of people calling on him for help, trusting him to be their protector.
Before John even realized it his feet had carried him on a side trip into the gang territory he and Bane had discovered on Friday night, rather than following the direct route to his apartment. What actually clued him in to his location was a shout down the street, which startled John out of his daydream. He blinked his eyes quickly to clear them and saw four men about a block down the sidewalk from him.
Three of them were crowding in around a man whose face John couldn't see as the punches and kicks rained down. The fourth guy was standing a foot away from them, watching the spectacle, though his eyes had caught John's approach before John even noticed the situation. "Hey asshole!" the man shouted at him. "Why don't you turn the fuck around and walk back the way you came?"
John's feet stalled and he stood, frozen, on the sidewalk. This was far too reminiscent of Friday night, except this time Bane wasn't here to drag him away to safety. John could run away, save himself and call the police, except this time the fight did not look to be one of warning for the victim curled up into a ball on the sidewalk. By the time the cops arrived the victim would be dead. Choosing his own life would mean leaving this stranger to die.
John saw the deadly glint of a blade being drawn and that was all he needed to make his decision, John throwing his duffel bag back behind him in preparation. The man who had shouted at John was slightly smaller than the three other guys hitting and kicking the person on the ground, so as John sprinted forward he drew his stun gun and aimed past the watcher. The man behind him cursed loudly and the knife clattered to the pavement, the man's body spasming and falling limp as electricity overpowered him.
While a normal stun gun would only provide one shot, Bruce seemed to have all the best gadgets in his arsenal and John got a second shot off – downing a second potential attacker with electric barbs to the shoulder – before the other two were upon him. The watcher took advantage of his distraction with the stun gun to land a punch to the side of John's head, sending his vision spinning as the gun was knocked from his hand.
The fight was a little more evenly matched in terms of numbers but it still wasn't great, especially since both men were taller than John and had managed to land the first hit. John brought his hands up to protect his head and face from hits and backed himself against the wall of a building to protect his back when he noticed one of the thugs trying to circle behind him. However, he could only protect so much of his body at once when there were two pairs of fists and feet hitting every exposed inch of him.
John managed a few well-timed hits himself, sending the watcher stumbling backwards with a broken nose spurting blood and the other man wheezing as he held his stomach. But it wasn't enough. John didn't have the strength or speed to overpower them both at the same time, to rain down enough substantial hits to incapacitate his attackers.
The pain fuelled their rage and they both swarmed him together, grabbing hold of his collar and slamming him back against the brick wall, causing the back of his head to crack against the brick. John's vision swam and when he regained his footing he realized how dizzy he was. The two men didn't even need to hit him for John to stumble to the sidewalk. John only had enough consciousness left to curl up into a ball to protect his stomach and to wrap his arms around his head before the two gang members started hitting and kicking him hard.
John lay there on the sidewalk, simply praying that they would get bored and walk away before they remembered the discarded knife a short distance away, or the closer stun gun. He grunted at the impact of each hit to his body and felt tears spring to his eyes and trickle down his cheeks. It wasn't the pain that made him cry. It was the disappointment in himself for being unable to protect people the way he wanted – even with Bruce's gadgets – and for realizing that he might die before he could tell Bane he was sorry.
John wasn't stupid enough to try to hit his attackers back or run, knowing that moving his arms or changing his position would just allow for a more deadly attack on his body. He was just beginning to give up hope when he heard a hesitant shout from across the street. "H-hey! Stop that!"
The attacks stopped and John peaked out between his arms to look across the street at the same time as his attackers did. He could see a woman standing there, maybe only a little older than John himself. She had a cell phone pressed to her ear and a determined scowl on her face. "What the fuck are you gonna do about it?" one of the men yelled back, taking their first warning steps off the sidewalk and onto the road.
The woman's eyes flashed with fear but her mouth remained in a tight line. "I called the police and they're going to be here any second!" she warned. "So unless you want to go to jail you better run while you have the chance!"
John looked up and saw the two guys waver and pause, glancing both ways down the street. In the far distance John thought he could hear a siren, though that could have been his ringing ears. The thugs seemed to decide it wasn't worthwhile risking getting caught though, so they spat a few more insults at them both and then ran down the street, leaving their two friends behind where they were still sprawled on the pavement. John was relieved that they seemed too nervous to remember John's discarded duffel bag.
A second later John heard footsteps pounding on the pavement as the woman rushed to kneel beside him. "Are you alright?" she asked quickly, touching a hand hesitantly to John's arm before pulling it back again, likely not wanting to risk injuring him further. She looked like a well-dressed businesswoman, coat done up tight with brass buttons, brown hair falling in ringlets and lips painted a vibrant red.
John struggled into a sitting position and rested his back against the brick wall, his head feeling fuzzy as blood dripped sluggishly from his nose and lip. He first reached for his stun gun and put it in his jacket pocket. Then, instead of answering her question, John asked his own. "Why did you do that? They could have attacked you before the police arrived."
She remained in front of him but didn't reach forward to touch him again, giving him some space. "I saw what you did to save that man they were attacking. If it wasn't for you he'd be dead. I guess..." she huffed and fidgeted with the cell phone in her hand. When their eyes met, her green eyes were sharp. "I guess you inspired me to do the same."
Through the haze of pain John realized that this was what Bruce as Batman had hoped for. It wasn't about being the 'sole hero' for everyone to turn to and rely on. Not only was it stupid for John to assume he could handle the whole city's problems at once and protect everyone, but it also wasn't fair of John to see himself as the only person who could be a hero.
Wearing a mask was to remind everyone that they could be a hero too. It was to encourage and inspire everyone to fight together for what was good and just in the world, forming an unspoken army of the light. Bruce had been right; there would always be darkness in the world. And no matter what gadgets John had, he would never be as strong as a collective group of citizens all fighting for the home they cherished and the people they loved.
Perhaps that had been Bruce's mistake and his downfall. For all his beliefs about everyone having the potential to be a hero, he had been unwilling – or perhaps unable to accept help. Yes, he had allowed Alfred and Lucius to help him prepare, but Bruce wouldn't let anyone truly fight alongside him. John could understand the desire to keep everyone safe and far away from danger, but John was also starting to grasp that he had to let everyone make their own decision rather than dictate who could help and who should stay home.
"Are you going to pass out?" the woman wondered in concern, waving her hand in front of John's face and snapping him out of his reverie. She was watching him critically, no doubt wondering why he hadn't responded to her comment.
John shook his head and then winced, immediately regretting the action as his headache sharpened. "No, I'm okay. Sorry." He didn't ask for her name and didn't give his own. He didn't need his name showing up in the police report when the cops arrived any minute; they would no doubt grow a bit suspicious seeing that he had been involved in a fight here two times in a few days. "Thank you so much. What you did was amazingly brave."
Using the brick wall behind him for stability, John stood slowly. He rested his hand against the wall as his vision danced and then calmed. "Yeah, well," she shrugged, standing to match him. "Same goes for you." John gave a weak smile, feeling foolish rather than brave but unwilling to get into that sort of argument right now. "Shouldn't you wait for the police to check you over?" she put both hands out as though ready to catch him if he stumbled.
"No, I'll be fine," he assured her. "I have someone back home." The thought made John's heart swell.
Her look was skeptical. "First you need to get home. What if you have internal bleeding?"
"I have some experience with this sort of thing," John explained vaguely. "I'm beaten up but I don't think there's any internal damage."
John watched her eyes narrow. "Do you make a habit of this?"
John didn't know what to say; saying 'I want to' suddenly seemed foolish with the unimpressed look she was giving him. Truthfully, John had always wanted to act like this. But when he had been a cop he had been bound by rules and regulations, and had sometimes been forced to turn a blind eye or assist with 'more pressing' problems. "Is it such a bad thing?" John huffed.
She sighed and crossed her arms. "You leave someone at home, worried sick that you may never come back alive, and go gallivanting off searching for fights? Don't get me wrong. What you do is brave," she added. "But it's not fair of you to leave your girlfriend at home while you're out playing hero."
John felt a blush creeping into his cheeks. "It's a guy," he said, though he couldn't exactly explain why he felt the urge to correct her. John didn't know this woman, and he would likely never see her again. John couldn't say exactly who he was dating – even the thought of using the words dating and boyfriend sounded bizarre – but he didn't want anyone assuming he was with any person other than Bane.
"Regardless," she shot back, not even batting an eyelash.
What if he's a super strong, incredibly smart behemoth of a man? John wanted to ask, but he knew it didn't change anything. Bane's size, strength and intelligence didn't matter here. What counted was his heart, a valuable possession he had not trusted with anyone other than John. And John was being careless and unfair. John had hated being stuck in the hotel, sometimes staring blankly out the window wondering what Bane was doing, who he was fighting, if John would ever get the chance to see him – talk to him – hold him again. Now John was doing the same thing to Bane.
It was time to go home.
"You're right," John said, offering his hand. She considered it for a moment and then took his hand in hers, handshake strong. "It was a real pleasure to meet you," John told her genuinely.
"Sara," she volunteered with a small smile.
"Sara," John repeated and then slid his hand away. Again he purposefully didn't offer his name, and while she looked somewhat unhappy about that, she didn't press him. Just then John heard the distinct wail of sirens approaching. John glanced down the block to the nearest alley and then back to Sara. "Listen, do you think you could avoid telling the police about me?"
Sara pursed her lips, her dark lashes casting a small fan of shadows across the arch of her eyes when she also turned her face towards the street where the siren could be heard drawing closer. Then she looked back to him, eyes pinning him in place. "I better not see your face around here again," she admonished, a glint in her green eyes.
John snorted, walking a few steps backwards toward the alley and bending to pick up his duffel bag. "Same goes for you." Truthfully, neither of them should be in this part of town.
Sara tilted her chin and said nothing more. She only turned her back to John, allowing him to disappear while she shifted her attention to the injured man John had first attempted to help. John ran as fast as he could and ducked into the alley, remaining hidden in the shadows until the siren pulled onto the street he had just left. Only then did he start walking further away, maintaining a normal pace to avoid looking too suspicious. It wasn't like John could run away, his whole body aching every time his feet hit the pavement.
John kept his head down as he walked back to the apartment, knowing he looked a wreck. By the time he made it back to the apartment he was struggling to climb the stairs. His legs shook beneath him, his shoulders aching as he held the majority of his weight upright by clutching to the stairs railing, dragging himself up one step at a time.
When he reached his door he fell against it, barely able to stand any longer. He turned the knob and found it to be locked, his palm sweaty as he tried and failed to finally reach safety. John lifted an arm, ignoring the twinge of pain in his shoulder, and knocked. There was no response and John felt a queasy sensation of concern in his stomach. He knocked again, so hard that he scraped skin off his knuckles.
John heard footsteps approaching and the locks being slid out of place, but instead of Bane opening the door John heard footsteps retreating away. Terrified now, John turned the knob quickly. All at once the door fell inward, no longer supporting John's weight and causing him to sprawl to the hard floor with a pained curse and groan, his duffel bag falling off his arm beside him. His vision swam again for a moment but cleared, and John lifted his head to see Bane pausing in the hallway with his back still turned to John.
"Bane," John called out sadly, wondering if he had screwed up everything by leaving earlier that day. Bane still didn't turn, his shoulders hunched up tensely. His neck straining from looking up at such an awkward angle, his head feeling too heavy to lift, John pressed his forehead against the cold floor. "I'm so sorry."
For a few long, painful seconds John heard nothing but their breathing, John's much harsher than Bane's own. Then John heard the floorboards creak as Bane turned and approached him. John's relief was consuming, his heart seeking Bane's comfort. When Bane paused in front of him John fought to push himself to stand, regretful but knowing neither of them wanted to see him grovel.
His legs gave out as he began to stand but Bane caught him, hands under John's armpits and bringing him easily to his feet. John kept his head down still, knowing things would get infinitely worse when Bane finally saw his face. John miscalculated though; he hadn't expected there to be enough blood matting the hair on the back of his head for Bane to see. But he knew Bane had seen it when Bane released a growl that made John want to cower. "Who did this to you?"
"It was my fault," John said in a rush, his eyes still on the floor. "I wasn't paying attention and I walked back into that gang territory. Some thugs were attacking this guy and they were going to kill him and—Bane!" John let out a dry sob as Bane's hands began to squeeze him too tightly, his ribs hurting with the compression.
Bane pulled his hands back and pushed past John, slamming the apartment door closed and sliding the locks in place. John flinched, surprised the wood hadn't splintered with the force. He was expecting Bane to brush past him again and continue into the apartment, leaving John to tend to his wounds alone and think about what he had done, so he gave a startled cry when Bane scooped John up in his arms and carried him further into the apartment.
"Bane...?" John looked up at him, which was a mistake because Bane's mouth tightened into a thin line when he saw the drying blood on John's face and chin from his nose and split lip.
"Quiet."
John dropped his gaze again and did as he was told. He didn't deserve to fight back now. He had abandoned Bane, left him to worry, and gave him a good reason to worry when he came back to the apartment beaten up. John wanted to cry but he wouldn't; he shouldn't look for pity. He had brought this on himself. Bane carried John into the bedroom and set him on the edge of the bed, stepping out of reach before John could raise his arms and pull him closer. "Undress and lie down," Bane told him and, before John could say anything in return, Bane stepped back out into the hallway.
John managed to kick off his pants and shrug off his jacket, but when he tried to pull his shirt over his head John's arms quickly fell back to his sides. His muscles were knotted together from the pain of being hit, and he lost his breath whenever he stretched his chest and stomach too much. John still hadn't managed to undress like he had been told when Bane returned with the first aid kit in his hands.
Silently Bane set the first aid kit on the vanity and walked closer to John again. He gripped the hem of John's shirt and helped him out of it with extreme care. Then he gave a light nudge to John's shoulder, hinting for him to lie down flat on his back. John didn't argue, lying in his underwear as Bane moved the first aid kit onto the end of the mattress and then sat by John's hip, eyes studying his body critically.
The first thing Bane did was to examine John's body, pressing lightly at the bruises that were already beginning to mar John's skin. Bane asked John a few questions about the pain, and where it hurt, and while John felt lightheaded with agony each time Bane touched his bruises, John answered as calmly as he could. He assured Bane that he didn't feel out of breath or disoriented, and that the ache of his body did not indicate any internal damage.
Once Bane was certain that John didn't have any internal bleeding he told John to explain in detail what had happened, where he had been hit and how. John could see the way Bane's jaw twitched with how tightly he was clenching his teeth together as John spoke, Bane's knuckles white from the fists Bane was making in his lap. When John was finished telling the story he was expecting a scolding. Instead, Bane silently turned and opened the first aid kit.
There wasn't much Bane could do for the bruises littering John's skin; they would take time to heal. John thought that Bane might be pressing with a little too much force against John's ribs where he had been kicked but John bit his lip and remained silent, taking his punishment. Bane cleaned up John's face and lip and confirmed that John's nose wasn't broken before turning his attention to the cuts and scrapes where feet and fists had landed.
Bane finished closing a cut on John's cheek with two thin strips of medical tape and John could already feel his eye beginning to swell and pulse with his heartbeat. He hadn't seen a reflection of himself yet but he knew he would have a bad black eye. John was distracted from that thought when he felt Bane's fingers brush along John's jaw; although Bane's face was purposefully clear of emotion, his hands were shaking.
John reached up and rested his hand on top of Bane's but Bane knocked his hand away, eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't," Bane said simply, removing his hand and gaze.
John rested his hand back on the mattress and used all of his focus to keep his tears at bay. "Bane—"
"Turn over," Bane spoke over him. He didn't even wait for John to move on his own after the order. Bane turned back and held John where there weren't bruises, rolling him over onto his side and then his stomach. John grimaced when he felt the back of his head peel away from the pillow, wet and sticky with drying blood. Bane didn't even comment as he moved the soiled pillow out of the way and led John down to rest the non-bloody side of his face on the second pillow.
When John's face was hidden from view he let his tears slip free and wet the pillow, though he made sure that his body didn't shake with sobs. All of his excitement to tell Bane about the cave had slipped away from him. Now John could only feel regret and disappointment, at the way he had failed Bane and himself. John had been too weak.
As Bane knelt above John, the first aid kit by John's elbow, John made a final attempt to smooth things over with a joke. "We need to stop meeting like this," John said, referring back to the first night he had spent in Bane's hotel room. He sniffled quietly and waited for Bane's response, seeking some sort of sign that Bane had – or would forgive him for this. A laugh, a chuckle; even an unnecessary but comforting caress of fingers.
Bane offered no such sign. Instead he just brushed away John's matted hair and worked on cleaning the cut from where John's head had been slammed back against the brick wall. John hissed and clutched at the blankets as the cleaning materials stung and added fuel to John's pounding headache, but Bane's touches remained precise and clinical.
John curled up into as much of a ball as possible considering the fact that Bane was kneeling over him to reach his head. John held the same defensive position he had on the sidewalk, hoping it could protect his heart from the stabbing sensation he was currently experiencing. John had pushed Bane too far, insisted when he should have conceded. Now he had lost Bane, the one man John felt truly comfortable with, and loved by.
John was so wrapped up in his deepening self loathing that he didn't even notice when Bane finished tending to his head wound. He only noticed when Bane withdrew fully from John and the bed, the mattress dipping and then rising as his weight disappeared. John clenched his eyes closed and listened for the sound of footsteps leaving the bedroom, ending this encounter. So focused on this, John was startled when he felt the bed dip again and arms encircle him.
He yelped but didn't fight as Bane lifted him back into his arms. John was confused about what was happening until Bane lay down carefully on the bed, half sitting back against the pile of pillows they kept at the head of the bed. Even when Bane was settled he kept John cradled in his arms, one behind John's shoulders and the other slung over his stomach to hold John's hip.
John's non-injured temple rested against Bane's shoulder, the rest of his body resting against Bane's torso and his legs stretched out on the mattress. Uncertain and hesitant, John lifted a hand, skimming it over Bane's tense shoulder before reaching further around to hug Bane tightly. Despite the awkward angle, Bane hugged John closer in return, and that was when John could finally release a shuddering sigh of relief.
"I am furious with you," Bane informed him.
"I know," John said, though he was smiling. Bane was holding him, hugging him; they would get through this.
Bane squeezed John a little tighter. It hurt John's back and hip where he had been kicked but he still didn't want to pull away. "What were you thinking?"
"Bruce's letter led me to this cave he had filled with gadgets and maps and tunnels that apparently run all under Gotham," John explained quietly. "I got so excited at the possibility of actually having the equipment I would need to protect this city like Bruce did. And I thought about how you could use the tunnels to move around more instead of being cooped up in my apartment..."
John took a deep breath and continued before Bane could say anything. "Then when I was walking home Jim texted me and said the Bat-Signal was fixed and I got swept up in it. I kept thinking 'this is a sign!' Before I realized it I was back in gang territory and I saw them beating up that guy..." Bane's arms around him kept John rooted in reality, but all he could see in his mind's eye was the gleam of a hungry blade being drawn. "They were going to kill him if I didn't intervene!" John said as he looked up.
Bane looked down to meet his gaze, and Bane's dark sorrowful eyes had John shuddering. "And instead they nearly killed you."
John dropped his eyes, utterly ashamed and disappointed. "Even with the gadgets Bruce left for me I can't protect the people. I would let everyone down if I tried. I'm too weak," John forced out the words even though it pained him to admit it aloud.
Bane's hand lifted from John's hip to beneath his chin, tilting his face back up. "You must accept your limitations before you can go beyond them."
"How?" John whispered. "I thought that Bruce's armour and gadgets were the difference between me and him and that the cave meant I could do this."
"Armour would have helped," Bane said pointedly. "But Bruce was trained by the League of Shadows." John's eyes widened. Bane had told him about the League of Shadows from his own experiences but he hadn't mentioned that Bruce had also been associated with the group. "Bruce prepared for years before he became Batman. Be realistic," Bane implored him. "As a vigilante you fight alone, and you do not have that experience."
"I can't fight like that without you accepting it," John said. "When I was on the sidewalk before that woman threatened the thugs with the police, I was most scared of the thought that I might die before I could see you again."
"Think about how I felt," Bane reminded him, voice still low and strained with restrained emotions.
"I know," John hugged Bane tight enough that he could feel Bane's body expanding and contracting with his breathing. "I've been terribly selfish and I'm so sorry."
Bane's hand moved back to John's hip and pulled him even closer. "Tell me why this is so important to you," Bane requested as he pressed his face against John's neck.
For a moment John silently breathed in Bane's warm scent, feeling his body relaxing in the embrace. "Ever since my parents were killed I've felt helpless," John began, trying to capture everything into a simple explanation. "Put with a foster family that discarded me when I didn't settle properly, left in an orphanage and then cast out into society with no supports at all. I grew up alone in a city that attracts darkness."
John sighed, hiding his face against Bane's shoulder. "On the streets you aren't sheltered from all the crimes that happen; people beaten and killed for items not worth owning, or just because. I joined the police force because I thought it would give me some control. I thought the badge would let me stop all those street crimes. I didn't want anyone else to die needlessly." John shook his head sadly. "But the law bound me and kept me from helping everyone equally."
"And you feel that becoming a vigilante will allow you to help everyone," Bane mused.
John hesitated. "Not everyone," he was forced to admit. "I realized that I can't help everyone. I'm only one person. The police and the legal system still have their part to play. But I want to protect the people who are alone and powerless, like I was." John lifted his head and sought Bane's gaze. "The people that the law deems less important, or the ones who the law simply doesn't have the time to help. I want to fill that void."
"You do not wish to be the next Batman?" Bane asked him, curious now.
John lifted the shoulder that hurt less in a half-shrug. "I wanted to, before. A part of me wanted that control to know I could do anything and that everyone would look to me for help. But I've realized a lot in the last few weeks, especially tonight." Before John continued he leaned forward and sealed his lips to Bane's because they were right there and Bane was looking at him with such concentration and understanding, and longing.
Bane kissed John softly, holding him close as their lips brushed warmly. Once John was sure that he wasn't talking himself into a deeper hole, that Bane was still here with him, John spoke again. "I don't want to be the next Batman. I want to be something new," he told Bane. "I want to help people help themselves, empower them and support them. I want to be there when someone is alone and has no one else to help them."
"How far would this go?" Bane wondered. "Bruce's death was not a fluke. If it was not me as the cause then it would be someone else. In a profession like this, death is a matter of when, not if."
"We all die someday, Bane," John said sadly. "Shouldn't we make the most of the time we do have? Do something worthwhile?"
"Not if it means I will lose you," Bane's voice cracked.
John wilted. He closed his eyes, his heart thumping painfully against his bruised ribs. He asked himself the question: if he had to choose between this dream and Bane, what would he choose? John realized that it wasn't a difficult question to answer, despite his years of seeking this dream and the associated fulfillment. John had had been obsessed with the idea, assuming it would be his only option for happiness, to help others avoid the childhood and life he had experienced alone.
But John had found fulfilment and happiness with Bane, a much deeper and meaningful joy than he knew fighting nameless thugs could ever bring regardless of who he helped in the process. If John chose this dream then he would have power, but he would still be alone. And that was the real root of the issue. John didn't want power or control, he wanted to save his past self from growing up alone, and protect others from experiencing that same empty, lost feeling.
Bane made those feelings go away. With Bane, John was finally not alone.
Something warm and powerful bubbled up inside John at that thought. Eyes still closed, John leaned forward and sought Bane's lips again. Bane met him halfway. Bane's kiss was initially greedy and desperate but John moved his lips tenderly, soothing him with a soft dance of lips until Bane shivered and stopped holding John so tightly his lungs felt constrained. Eventually John pulled away just enough to kiss each of Bane's closed eyelids, feeling Bane's lashes flutter against his skin before moving on.
When John sat back in Bane's embrace he saw that Bane still refused to open his eyes, as though preparing for the worst when John gave his answer. Again John leaned forward and brushed his lips over Bane's own, affectionate and warm. Finally Bane opened his eyes and John met them, brown locked to grey. "I will always choose you, Bane."
Bane's eyes widened, his lips parting slightly in surprise. "You would abandon your dream...for me?"
"Well, not abandon. But I'll find a different way," John clarified. "I wanted to physically go out and fight crime because Gotham is so rough and ragged at the moment after the war," he explained. "There's a lot of petty crime on the streets that just needs a physical intervention but the cops are spread too thin to be everywhere at once. But I'll find another way to help this city and the people without anyone to rely on. Maybe I can find a different job or—"
John's energetic ramblings were cut off when Bane locked their lips together tightly, kissing John hard enough that he saw stars. John whimpered when he felt the sharp tear of his lip splitting again but they didn't stop, bodies moulded together. When Bane pulled his lips away John opened his mouth to speak – to ask what that had been for – but Bane spoke in a rush. "I will train you."
John's eyebrows rose in shock. "But I thought you didn't want me to fight."
"I don't," Bane said. "But your optimism is infectious. I cannot help but believe that you truly could help this city because I know the power of your hope. Do you remember when I told you that the light of your fire was hope to more than just you?"
John cast his mind back. He remembered the day he had started to fix Osito and Bane had pinned him to the wall. John glanced over to the bedside table where Osito sat in his usual place of honour, and then looked back to Bane. "Yes. That was after the guards nearly—"
He still couldn't say the word. Luckily Bane didn't force him. Bane just nodded. "I could not bear to see your fire go out because it gave me hope. You saved me." John's heart was fluttering, touched by the sincerity in Bane's words and on his face. "It would be unfair of me to restrain that hope, but I can train you and make sure that you are safe while you pursue your dreams."
"Bane..." John whispered in awe when he saw a few stray tears slide down Bane's cheeks, emotion overcoming them both. John lifted a hand and swept those tears away gently, holding his palm against Bane's cheek after. "You don't have to. I can find another way."
Bane tilted his face into John's hand slightly, easily. It was touching to see how comfortable they had both grown with each other, and how willing they were to show affection and weakness despite years of hiding behind masks of strength and indifference. "I want to," Bane said. "I am happy with you, John. I have somewhere I belong, but I am still purposeless." John's heart ached at the thought of Bane feeling useless and lost. "My new purpose can be to train you to make sure you can fulfil your dreams while also surviving."
"I love you," was all John could say, because his emotions were choking him and making it hard to do anything but smile stupidly.
"I love you too," Bane said in return, his smile softer but just as heart-warming. "But I have two conditions for this."
"Anything," John promised. "If you're going to do this for me then I want to make sure that you're happy too."
"You will not go out looking for fights until you are properly trained," Bane stated.
"Agreed."
"And when Gotham no longer needs a physical vigilante I want us to find new ways of helping," Bane said. "I will not train you only to race you to your death faster."
"I promise," John said easily. "I want to do this, but I don't want it to be my life. You are my life." Bane leaned forward for a kiss but John resisted for a second longer. "I have one condition of my own. I want you to fight with me," John held Bane's beautiful eyes with his own, smiling with all the love in his heart. "I don't want a protector. I want a partner."
"I would not have it any other way."
They sealed their promises with a kiss.
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