Chapter 12

Change

When she woke up it was to relative warmth of the storage room, and for a moment it was nice. She yawned and stretched, readjusting herself into more comfortable position on her makeshift bed.

The memories of the night before - or had it been the day before? Both seemed to blend so seamlessly here - began to flood back, but this time she was ready for them and simply scowled at her own stupidity, setting her mouth in a grim line. It was all a matter of perception, she reminded herself, nothing new had happened, nothing had changed, and still she had broken down like some useless wimp. Useless wimps died here, and she didn't want to die, right?

She would get out of here one day, she promised herself, even if it was just to escape this life to start another on the run so as not to be forced to return. Did her family ever think about her anymore? It had been so long since she had seen any of them, did they ever wonder where she was or what she was doing? Did they have any idea what it was like in Arkham City?

It was hard not to have self-centered thoughts here, when the cruelty of grim reality generally did not allow for the consideration of others.

She could hear the deep reverberating rhythm of Croc's breathing nearby, the sound was soporific and oddly comforting, it made her want to go back to sleep.

At some point Croc must have turned off the light, because the storage room was only dimly lit by the light filtering in through the doorway from the hall beyond. In the dim lighting she could only see his silhouette, and with his face turned away at the angle it was he appeared almost human. Almost human? Clara pondered this for a moment, then sleepiness crept up on her again and she yawned. Definitely human, fellow human, fellow living being, and she liked that, she didn't want to be alone.

She experimentally stretched one leg, testing her body for aches and pains from yesterday. She had a bit of a headache but whether that was an after effect of the Hatter's tranquilizers she wasn't certain. She had had worse, the incident when she had been clipped by a bullet all those weeks ago had to be one the scariest, though she supposed falling down a flight of stairs on fear inducing hallucinogens and breaking her arm had to take the cake.

Slowly she sat up and looked down at him on the floor, the angle at which she saw him changed and he became noticeably spikier, less human, but it didn't frighten her as it would have done before she came to Arkham city. Appearances meant nothing here, everyone strove to look as fierce and as strong as possible, Croc was just one of many and right now was one of the few she trusted. And oh dear, she did trust him, didn't she?

Was she fooling herself? Half her mind had forgotten who Killer Croc was, the other half didn't care.

Lying awake and thinking over things was generally something he tried to avoid, because when he did it was hard to stop his thoughts from turning destructive, but this time he had something else other than himself to think over. Tony was still there, he could hear her quiet steady breathing, sleeping and calm as anything. He couldn't see her all that well from the floor, just half an arm that was hanging over the side of the stack of sacks - pale fingers lax and unfurled almost as if in death. And in death was generally the only state that Croc ever saw anyone near him look tranquil.

When the arm was suddenly moved out of sight and he heard the rustling of material as she shifted, he knew she had woken up. Worried that he might be caught staring at her, he quickly feigned sleep, turning his gaze could hear her shifting but it didn't sound as if she was getting up.

He opened his eyes and found her sitting beside him, looking down at him. As soon as he caught her eyes, her gaze darted away, and she mumbled something that sounded like 'morning, Croc.'

'Tony,' he grunted and sat up.

'I wanted to ask you a question,' she said hesitantly. 'About Gotham Bay, if that's okay.'

Croc was surprised. 'What about it?'

'I want to know why no one has escaped from this facility by sea,' she said, gesturing with her hands in the direction of the bay. 'You're a good swimmer, so I thought that you might know.'

'It's probably mined,' Croc replied simply, not thinking twice about it. 'That, and they've got surveillance everywhere.' The "zookeepers" of this place wouldn't have left such a gap in their security, and he for one wasn't going to test it.

'Oh,' Clara, laced her fingers. 'So I guess there really is no way out...'

Croc grunted, and turned his gaze away.

'The Blackmask apparently broke out a few weeks ago,' she continued. 'He got his hands on explosives, and somehow managed to blow a hole in the wall. I've no idea how he didn't get spotted. He err...tricked the Penguin, I've overheard the boss ranting about him more than once.'

'Do you have explosives?' he asked but knew she didn't, the question had reminded him of an unpleasant fact that he was trying to forget; despite how much he hated it here, he had no incentive to leave Arkham City.

'Erm, no, but it's worth considering. If it's worked before, it can work again,' she paused to think. 'The Penguin must keep explosives somewhere, if the Blackmask was able to obtain them off him-'

'You think I want to leave? Where exactly would I go?' he snarled. 'Can you see me walking down Gotham's streets?'

'I'd have to hide too, they'd throw me back in here if they found me,' she was cowering, her eyes wide, but he was too wrapped up in his own irritation right at that moment to feel any regret.

'It's not the same. You can hide, I can't!' he glowered. 'Anything you got to add to that?!'

But despite his anger, she didn't flee, she looked defiantly back at him.

'Anywhere is better than here, right? When you have to scrounge to survive-' she tried to argue.

'Where would I go?' he asked again, a deadly threat in his tone, daring her to answer him.

But she didn't answer this time because she already knew the truth: outside of Arkham City there was no place for Croc. And he knew this too.

'Get out.' he growled, and this time she didn't hesitate to flee.

It was still quite early in the evening, no missions for another hour or so until after sundown. With nothing to do she currently had two options, find someone who she could talk too who wasn't eager to throw her out of the nearest window or she could hide until she was needed. When she didn't need to be around then she would much sooner not be around.

Maybe she was fooling herself, thinking that Croc could ever possibly be a friend. He was simply too dangerous, without even meaning to he could probably kill her - where someone else might just bump into her on passing and apologise for possibly knocking her over, in Croc's case it would be an apology for hurling her across the room and possibly through a wall. She had to be careful around him even when he wasn't in a bad mood, it would be only too easy for her to get accidentally crushed or trampled.

But she realised something. Without even meaning to, she had become attached to the great brute, it was the closest thing she had felt to friendship since she had arrived in Arkham City and she felt greatly distressed at the fact that she had upset him; and this wasn't just her fearing his bad side but more of a fear of losing him, and this surprised her. But it was true, she did not want to lose him.

The Penguin was currently holding yet another speech on how much he hated the Joker, Clara wasn't particularly interested in listening and knew now was good time to slip away and hide while everyone was distracted. One-eye was hovering nearby, but she was deliberately ignoring him. She was just so fed up with the whole situation, she couldn't care less. She wasn't suicidal but was beginning to think that perhaps going to sleep outside in the cold and simply not waking up would be the easiest solution to her problems.

When she spotted One-eye coming over to her, she almost turned on heel and left, but compared to angry Croc he really wasn't that scary, and she waited for him, looking him straight back at him as he approached.

'Tony,' he said simply, standing still with his arms hanging at his sides, then abruptly he hugged her. Almost immediately he let go of her and stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked around to check that no one else had noticed. 'I thought you might be dead. Where were you?'

And with jolt Clara realised that it was not mere insanity that had drawn him over but fatherly concern, and she felt terrible for being the wrong recipient.

'I'm sorry, I-,' she began, but One-eye shook his head.

'No, don't be sorry, Tony,' he chided her looking around again to see if anyone was listening in, then nudged her and said more quietly, smiling at little. 'You can be sorry if you want to, but don't say it out loud, you don't want to look a pushover, eh?' He looked over her hair and seemed to frown. 'This stuff is getting too long, my boy, we need to do something about it. How about a mohawk? Like your old man? You like that idea?'

Clara didn't like that idea at all.

...

About half an hour later Clara sat hidden on a small ledge beneath one of the boardwalks by the lake under the lounge, having managed to slip away when One-eye wasn't looking.

Maybe it would have been a good idea to get her hair cut back as it was getting to be a good few inches too long and it was beginning to make her stand out, but she didn't like the idea of letting anyone near her with sharp pointy objects. It made her feel a bit guilty that after One-eye had shown such concern for her welfare that she had simply run away, but she had to remind herself that the concern was not actually meant for her. And in the grand scheme of things she didn't mean anything to him, if the tales were true she could easily be replaced if she was lost; Clara knew that she was not the first 'Tony' he had taken in.

Clara watched the dark waters of the lake, mulling things over in her mind. She really hoped that Croc would forget about earlier, she knew she hadn't said anything to upset him deliberately but she also knew he wasn't really to blame either, Croc obviously had issues and she had known this for as long as she had known of his existence. Hell, she had issues herself, and she was pretty sure everyone else in Arkham City had issues too, a little snap of aggression really was just a drop in the ocean and she knew she shouldn't be worrying about it.

Talking about oceans, where were the sharks?

It had been a long time since she had last been to an aquarium, but she had been hoping to relive that luxury. There were supposed to be sharks in the lake, or so the rumours went - either way, the only people she had seen going into the lake were those who were chucked in dead.

She looked down at the still water and watched, being careful not to lean too far forward, so far she had spotted nothing but dark forms floating just out of sight under the water, she knew without question these were bodies and thought no more of it - it wasn't like they were not going to be bodies if she left.

The boards above her creaked in protest as they bore weight, and she knew immediately it was Croc due to his distinctive breathing.

Clara still wasn't certain whether this loud breathing was due to the mutation that had led to his nose atrophying away or due to the fact that he was simply so big his breathing was amplified in his huge barrel chest.

What was he doing here? Was he looking for her? Had he tracked her? Clara wondered if she should be afraid, what if he was still annoyed with her? The boards creaked again, then there was small splash as he leaned forward and placed one hand in the cold dark waters of the lake.

'Don't!' she shouted before she could stop herself.

The arm withdrew and a few seconds later he was leaning over the side, squinting at her through the shadows.

'There's supposed be something nasty in the water. Can't you smell it?' she explained herself, a little embarrassed she had been found hiding under the boardwalk - not exactly very brave.

'The dead,' he replied, then withdrew, the boards creaking as he presumably got to his feet. 'There isn't anything to fear from the dead. The dead can't move, and when they can't move they can't do anything.'

'I don't think all of them were dead when they were thrown in,' Clara cautiously began to climb up out from her hiding spot, pulling herself up onto the boardwalk. She tried to watch Croc without appearing to be staring, but she could already tell that the tension from earlier appeared to be gone. There was no directness about his words, he was still facing the lake but he was watching her too. 'You going out on the run to Two-Face's tonight?' she asked, putting her hands in her pockets and leaning back, trying to appear indifferent.

'I've been assigned elsewhere,' he looked away. 'Joker's turf, sabotage.'

'Oh,' she hoped she didn't sound disappointed. 'Maybe we can catch up later?'

He turned to her suddenly, the frown was back, his shoulders hunched. 'What is your problem?' he snarled.

'What did I do?' she asked nervously.

He snarled and turned away again. '...You're talking to me,' he hissed, then went quiet.

'Do you not want me to?' she asked. He didn't reply, so she tried apologising. 'Look, I feel really stupid about earlier, it's just that sometimes I forget that...well...I get very self-centered sometimes, spent too much time with only the company of my own head, you know? Yeah, and sometimes I just think of what I want and assume it's what everyone else wants too. I didn't mean anything by it.'

He still wasn't looking at her, but she took a chance and assumed he was listening.

'It might be easier to think of it this way, I didn't mean to say what I said without saying it…erm, I mean whatever offence I gave, I didn't mean it. Ok, now awkwardness aside, I do need to go,' she dusted herself down and began to head out towards the main entrance. 'But I still would like to talk to you again later, the company of my own head can get overwhelming.'

Croc grunted, but said nothing more. Maybe, Clara concluded, it just wasn't in his nature to use a lot of words

...

There were two people lying crumpled upon the floor. Black and grey clothing, Two-face's men. She knew immediately they were dead and was surprised at how little she reacted. Was she becoming cold? Or was her mind just getting used to the abuse of seeing the dead as an everyday occurrence?

'If you work for the Penguin, you do the job right,' declared Sickle to the small crowd gathering around him, he picked up one of the two dead men by the leg and flung him into an open cabinet. 'A good ornament for sure, the boss will like.'

Clara hurried along past, spotting Enrique and some of the others that he often followed around. There was something different about their group, they didn't integrate well, and she got the distinct impression that they were not cold calculating mercenaries like most of the rest were but nor were they like the loud rowdy lot who had bought their way in through the fighting pit.

Though intimidating, Clara decided that they were probably as good as people got out here, though several had eyed her suspiciously at first and a few still had not said anything to her, none of them had physically tried to harm her. While she still wouldn't trust them as far as she could throw them, she at least hoped that they might prove to be future allies - especially if Croc grew sick of her.

'Jeez, let me guess, trophies from the hunt?' she said sarcastically, putting on the mask of Tony, looking towards the cabinet in which Sickle was now rearranging the corpses as a display.

'Yeah, if a trophy buck was willing to walk up to its hunter and get shot,' snorted Elvis. 'What were those idiots thinking? Coming here on their own, probably thought to get a promotion or something. Two-face let's pretty much anyone join up with his little gang, I wouldn't be surprised if it was swarming with the Joker's spies.'

'Of course, Penguin's methods are so much more efficient. He looks into the background of those he hires first,' remarked Enrique smiling lazily, and for some reason several of the group found this remark rather amusing, a few of them stifling their laughter hurriedly. Clara knew immediately knew it was some sort of inside joke, but she could interpret the meaning in three different ways - one was that the Penguin had a renown history of hiring people who were untrustworthy, the second was possibility could be that they knew something about a current traitor, thirdly their own background history would for some reason be distasteful to their current boss, but that was not something she was going to ask about, that would be treading on dangerous turf.

A few minutes later they headed out into the oncoming dark of night. Clara keeping her head low and her arms folded against her chest for warmth as she kept up with the rest of the gang.

'So what's Killer Croc got on you?' Elvis asked unexpectedly.

'What are you talking about?' she replied, trying her best to sound indifferent.

'Do you know him somehow? You're always hanging around him and he never gets angry, it's kind of obvious that there is something going on.'

'Doesn't get angry?!' Clara sputtered, deliberately cutting out the second half of Elvis' question, knowing she would have to make something up. 'You got the wrong guy, he's threatened to tear me to pieces more than a few times!'

'Oh, so it's you who's got the death wish? You do seem to like putting yourself in dangerous situations,' he was joking, but Clara didn't find it funny.

'No, not a death wish, just a supreme combo of good and bad luck,' she replied grimly, and tried to leave the conversation at that.

'That beast is blackmailing you, isn't he?' the question sounded rhetorical, but due to the nature of the situation Clara chose not to correct it and kept her mouth shut. Let the others believe what they liked.

...

Part of her couldn't actually believe that she was actually allies with the Killer Croc, it just didn't make any sense, but then ever since she had gotten into this mess nothing had made sense anyway. Having now returned from her mission, she was seeking him out again.

People were starting to pick up on the fact that Croc was on the defensive when Clara was around. Few to no people bothered her now, even the Penguin himself seemed to have forgotten that she wasn't really supposed to be there - though this was more likely due to the fact that he had probably forgotten her existence. She still talked to One-eye, but now that she had better footing in the gang, she no longer put up with any of his abuse – walking away whenever he began behaving aggressively. One-eye wasn't a particularly nasty person, it was just that he was completely nuts and unstable as a landslide.

A full moon shone high in the night sky.

Clara was carrying a tin of macaroni cheese in one hand, she had spotted Croc sitting out on his own out in the construction yard and was making her way over to him. There was no one else out here, so she felt pretty much at ease, save for the nagging fear that Croc might still be irritated with her.

'Hey,' she called as she got closer, Croc looked up from the bone he was chewing on – Clara assumed it wasn't human and left the thought at that. 'Erm, mind if I sit with you?'

Croc looked at her suspiciously for a minute, but then shrugged and went back to his meal. Clara settled down next to him on the same crate and began the arduous business of breaking open the tin she had retrieved.

'I got more news on that plan to blow up the bridge to the Joker's,' she told him chirpily, hoping that she wasn't coming off as patronising. 'It's said that the Penguin is going to ask you to plant the explosives under the bridge as you're the only guy who can do so without needing scuba gear, also there was something to do with Mr. Freeze – not really sure who he is – but he's supposedly working with the Joker so the Penguin is looking into methods of getting rid of him.'

'It's good to see you're still alive,' he remarked unexpectedly.

'Oh, thanks. You too,' she smiled at him. 'Nothing you couldn't handle though, right?'

Croc grunted, and leaned to one side to pick something up out of view from where Clara was sitting, then tossed it to her. 'Here.'

Clara caught the piece of material, it was a beanie much like the one she had lost at the Hatter's. Curiously she looked up at him.

'I found it on the last raid,' Croc said, shrugging a little uncomfortably. 'Figured you might like it, with it getting cold and all.'

'Thank you,' Clara replied shyly, pulling the hat down over her cold ears. 'Though I don't actually have anything of my own to give, I guess I'll have to find you something.'

'It's a present, you don't need to give anything back,' he replied awkwardly, obviously new to the whole process of gift giving.

'Well when I find you something, then it will be a present as well,' she replied matter-of-factly. 'There is a big raid planned for one of Two-Face's bunkers tomorrow, maybe I can find something then.'

When a large clawed hand rested upon her shoulder she didn't flinch, and as ironic as it was in the situation – she felt safer than she had done in months.

Without explanation, or even looking at him, she leaned against his side pressing the side of her head to nearest part of his chest she could reach.

'What are you doing?'

Clara blushed and pulled back immediately. 'I just wanted to-, ...be near?' she lost her original meaning in a jumble of words as she flustered.

He didn't look angry, just bemused.

'Does saying that I wanted to hear your heartbeat creepy at all?' she fumbled with her words, inadvertently making the situation more awkward, she looked away, rubbing the back of her neck. 'Yeah, please forget I said that.'

Croc just laughed, and it wasn't a nasty laugh like she had heard a few times before but a genuine one. She couldn't help but smile herself at the situation.

...

It was raining heavily outside, more so than Clara had ever seen before, filling and pouring out the gutters so that street almost resembled a river. Every so often there would be a great flash of lightning that would bathe everything in a shining white light, and the sky would roar with thunder. She shivered beneath the alcove and scowled, even the Penguin couldn't expect them to go out in this, right?!

The structure she was standing under didn't completely protect her from the rain, and she scowled again in disgust at how the water was beginning soak into her clothing. Her face was freezing, she reached up to pull her new beanie down, confident it would keep her warm.

'What are you slugs still doing here?! Get a move on!' shouted their team leader Jim, emerging from the main building.

'Screw this, I don't want to drown!'

'It's freaking cold out!'

'I can't see a thing!'

There was a number of complaints over the weather, no one was eager to leave the shelter of the museum.

'Oh forgive me, I must be mistaken,' their assigned leader told them sarcastically. 'It was my understanding that you all work for the Penguin – so let me tell you how things work here. The boss pays you, the boss feeds you, and in return you do everything you can to keep the boss happy, okay? So you get out there now or I'll throw you lot in the lake myself!'

Miserably the group moved out from under the porch and into the drizzling street, and Clara knew this wasn't the worst of it. As soon as this rain stopped, the cold winter winds would freeze this water into slippery ice, now wouldn't it be fun navigating across that?

She smiled at the irony of looking forward to returning from tonight's mission, the irony that she was looking forward to seeing one of Gotham's most dangerous. She had already decided on her gift to Croc, the pack of cards she had stolen. They weren't much, but she had nothing else to offer, and he seemed to be fond of them.

She would give them to him when she got back.

Perhaps, looking back on it, it had been his fault, though it was more than likely they had been planning it for some time.

But the simple truth was, not all those declared missing at the Mad Hatter's hands were ever found, and apparently this was all the evidence they needed to declare him the perpetrator. Perhaps he shouldn't have dared sit out in the open as he waited for Tony to return. Perhaps, when he saw them coming towards him in a pack of a dozen wielding guns, he had been expecting this moment to happen ever since he had first joined the Penguin's gang.

They had said they wanted to talk, but he knew better.

Perhaps, in some perverse way, it made him happy to be proved right. That humanity was not to be trusted, that the only person in the world he could trust was himself.

And his thoughts were only on himself as he lost his temper and flew at them with his jaws wide. Perhaps, funnily enough, they hadn't realised that he wasn't a pushover.

...

The peace was never destined to last. It couldn't, not with the instability of the many meandering minds of madness in Arkham City.

And just when things were beginning to look positive for her for once.

Clara wasn't there when the whole thing started, she heard what was going on before she saw it. The floor itself seemed to be shaking under her feet. She could hear people shouting nearby, yelling in the terror, the occasional cracking of gunfire splitting the air.

There was a great commotion in the hallway closer towards the noise, some were struggling to get away while others were fighting their way through to find out what was going on. Clara, not being the biggest or strongest there, was finding it very hard to move at all.

She stopped trying when she spotted one of Enrique's friends, Tom, standing still in the hallway to one side neither going towards or away from the uproar.

'What the hell is going on?' she asked over the commotion.

When he didn't immediately answer, she tried to continue her fight through the crowd, she had to find Croc or someone that would tell her what was happening. She hadn't gone more than a few steps though when he pulled her back, and it was then she caught sight of Enrique crouched behind Tom, tending to a figure that was slumped against the wall.

'You go in there now, you probably won't be coming out,' Tom warned her. Enrique noticed her there, gave her a grim nod and went back to trying to patch up the injured man lying against the wall.

'Is it the Joker? Two-Face?' she asked, jumping as she tried to see over the crowd. 'Who's attacking us?!'

'No it's-'

Just then there was a roar that shook her to her bones. She recognised the sound immediately.

'It's Killer Croc,' finished Enrique. 'He's gone berserk!'

Oh, no, this could not be happening! She ran, the crowd was thinning now, she managed to get through to lounge. There were bodies upon the floor, smashed chairs and overturned tables.

Croc was roaring in anger, the Penguin's men were shouting and yelling in terror. And there was something else, grey and terrible, and bigger than Croc. The smell of burnt flesh was thick in the air, it seemed the grey thing itself was the source, growling and crackling like ice. This had to be the Penguin's monster that he kept locked below ground; Solomon Grundy.

They were fighting, two behemoths tearing and punching at each other, but though Croc fought viciously, it seemed that no matter how badly he damaged his opponent, the other simply didn't care and wouldn't fall.

The crackling of electricity was a constant buzz, the half living thing that was Grundy glowing an icy blue in its light. Croc drew back snarling whenever he landed blow on the monster, electrocuted every time he got too close.

She shouted to him, but her voice was lost amongst the commotion.

Abruptly Croc broke off from the fight, tearing through and flinging everyone in his path out of his way.

Gunshots continued to ring out. Most of the bullets seemed to glance right off him, but in their wake they left bloody streaks. Clara, her mind screaming inside, ran after him. She couldn't lose him now, the only rock she had in her life to keep her stable!

The doors were closed, Croc smashed through them without even slowing down. The wood splintered loudly as the doors tore apart, crashing back against their frames.

They continued to fire at him as Croc ran off into the night, but he wasn't stopping, not looking back even once.

And Clara knew he wasn't coming back.

A/N: Okay, here is the chapter I promised to post before I left. I will be back in about two weeks, see you then. :)

Originally the scene with Clara and Croc outside leaned more towards the romantic, but to be honest I chickened out. My argument is that it's still too soon, Croc's got his serious trust issues to get over and he's only just started trusting Clara.

On a random note, I finally got around to watching Batman Begins, and wow I like their interpretation of Scarecrow: so creepy and sinister! And talking about Batman media, I am so glad in a way that it's been confirmed that Killer Croc is not part of the 'suicide squad' in Assault on Arkham: glad because I thought he was King Shark and couldn't understand why Croc had a new design that suddenly needed metal teeth/brace and a mohawk/fin/thing on his head.

Thank you, obsessivesyndrome and House Telvanni, for your lovely reviews :)

Quick summary of this chapter:

Croc awakens the next day and finds that Clara is still there. They talk a little when she wakes up, she talks about trying to escape, Croc already knows though that he doesn't have anywhere to escape to and gets a bit angry at her for bringing up the subject.

Clara returns to the main lobby, where she is met by One-eye, but rather than annoyed he is genuinely distressed and thinks that she was in danger. Clara eventually manages to give him the slip though and hides away, planning to stay there until it's time to leave again. Croc passes overhead and she thinks he is about to get into the water she warns him, letting slip that she is there.

There is a raid planned later that night, to her disapointment though Croc is on a different mission than her own. After the raid, and both are still alive, Clara heads out to find Croc to see if he is no longer irritated at her. Croc gifts Clara a beanie to replace the one she lost.

The next night (or rather evening), Clara is on another mission without Croc (she's just decided on her own gift for Croc – the pack of cards – when she hears uproar). She arrives just in time to see Croc managing to shove away Grundy and escaping outside, and she knows immediately that he won't be coming back.