As promised.
WARNINGS: Strong Language and Graphic Violence . . .
Elle opened the pharmacy bag and pulled out the test. She opened the box and held the little stick in her hand as she read the instructions.
"Huh, seems simple enough," she murmured to herself.
For best accuracy use in the morning . . . Well, that was out. Dick would be back in the morning after his patrol. She wanted to know before then so she could decide how to tell him the news if her suspicions turned out to be true. A few minutes later, Elle left the test on the counter and hopped in the shower.
It took every ounce of her willpower not to peek around the curtain after a couple of minutes had passed. She could wait until after she was finished with her shower, but her mind couldn't stop thinking about what the results of the test would mean for them. Part of her wanted it to be negative because there was a lot going on right now that she wouldn't want to bring a child into, but a surprisingly large part of her wanted the results to be positive.
Her stomach churned with a kind of nervous excitement. Would Dick be happy? Would he be angry?
Elle closed her eyes and drew the curtain back. When she opened her eyes, she couldn't see the results from where she was. She wrapped the towel around her and stepped out of the tub. Her hand was shaking as she picked up the stick and stared.
Two lines side by side . . .
Is that good? She swallowed and picked up the instructions again, just to make sure.
Two lines meant . . . Positive! Oh my God . . .
"Oh my God," she gasped.
Her legs suddenly felt weak, and Elle sat down on the toilet abruptly. She struggled to get her breathing under control as she figured out what her emotions were. When she was reasonably calm, she stood up in front of the mirror and dropped her towel. One hand caressed her still-flat stomach. She gazed into the looking glass and turned to the side; running a hand once again over her belly as she imagined what it would look like in a couple of months, in six months, . . . in nine.
Her eyes lifted until she was staring at her own face. Her lips tilted up at the sides, just a bit at first, but soon she was grinning. A happy tear slipped free; surprising her.
A baby . . . A little person that would be the combination of both of them and the culmination of their love.
She wondered if it would be a boy or a girl. Would it look like her or like Dick? She hoped it had his shiny, black hair and his incredible, cerulean-blue eyes. Would it be able to sing like her? Would it be able to breathe underwater and swim like she could? Her questions were endless, and her excitement continued to grow with each consecutive one that came to mind. Who would this new little person grow up to be?
She tucked the little stick up in the medicine cabinet. She wasn't hiding it per say, but she wanted to tell Dick herself. Now, she found she couldn't wait until he came home. She was almost tempted to do something she had promised never to do and call him to come home early.
Would it be so wrong of her? Would he consider this news important enough to drag him away from the streets? But no; he was acting as backup to Batman tonight. She would wait until morning.
Elle pulled on a pale pink tanktop and matching panties to sleep in and grabbed her white silk robe. She was towel-drying her hair when she heard the knock on the door of the apartment.
Dick?
Excited, she didn't even stop to think about it. Her building had security, after all. Dick was back early! Elle first thought was that he had forgotten his key. If this had happened any other night, Elle might have remembered that Dick never used the door after patrol; he always came through the kitchen window. But her only thought was telling him the news!
She stopped merely to grab the video camera. Elle wanted to record her telling him that he was going to be a daddy on video for posterity. She turned it on and propped it on the entertainment center in a place best positioned to catch the action. Satisfied, Elle unlocked the front door.
"You're home early . . ." Elle broke off; gasping as she abruptly registered that the man standing in her doorway wasn't Dick.
She moved to slam the door shut, but the man stopped it from closing completely, and then kicked the it back in - hard! The door slammed into the wall and Elle stumbled backward into the entertainment center. The camera wobbled, but remained on its shelf.
As the stranger stepped boldly into the apartment, Elle scrambled to get out of his range. Her first instinct was to run to Dick's secret stash of weapons, but she knew she couldn't lead the man there. He would discover Nightwing's identity! So, instead, Elle jumped onto the coffee table, scattering the papers, and onto the couch; leaping over it in an effort to get to the kitchen.
The kitchen had knives and other potential weapons, and her purse was on the counter with her mace and a stun gun in it.
Damn it! Why didn't I leave it closer? Somewhere where it might do me some good!
The man jumped after her, catching Elle by the ankle in mid-leap and causing her to fall to the hardwood floor with a loud thump. She managed to protect her head, but her elbows and one wrist took the brunt of the fall. She grunted on impact, but her adrenaline was running high; enabling her to ignore the painful jolt as she rolled and scrambled back onto her feet.
She was only able to take a couple of steps, however, before the man was back on her; tackling her to the ground. A lamp fell to the floor with her; the bulb shattering. Elle grabbed it; not even feeling the broken glass that sliced her hand in the process. He blocked it with his forearm, but her swing was hard enough that he gave a sharp yelp of pain; but not enough that it stopped him from yanking it out of her hands and throwing it aside.
He punched her in the face one, two, three times. Elle couldn't block them fast enough, and her head rocked with the force of it. That last blow caused darkness to envelop her briefly. Or at least she thought it was briefly. Her ears were ringing, her head felt fuzzy, and she thought that maybe her eye was swelling.
He gripped the edges of her robe; pulling her up towards him as Elle struggled to come up with something, anything, that she could do to fight this guy! What was it that Dick showed her? She couldn't think! Her brain wasn't working! Bruce's advice went straight out the window in her pain and panic! So, she reacted on instinct and hoped for the best.
Elle slapped the man's ears and then grabbed his shirt; yanking him forward as hard as she could as she rammed him in his back with her knees. Amazingly, he flew over her head. Unfortunately, her assailant knew a lot more about fighting that she did. He rolled with it and came back onto his feet, even as she scrambled to her own. Elle flung herself back over the couch. Still feeling the ringing, numbing effects of the blows he had landed; she fell to one knee as she attempted to stand up and run.
She grabbed for the door; finally remembering to scream. Suddenly, he was behind her! He slammed it closed before she could open it more than a couple of inches. Hitting the button on the intercom, Elle screamed for Thomas, but her attacker grabbed her by her arm and neck; spinning her around and flinging her back into the depth of her apartment.
Elle crashed into a side table; hitting her head against the wall. The table collapsed under her weight. Her cell phone, that had been charging on it, was ripped from its cord and went skittering between the upholstered chair's legs and ended up somewhere under the couch. Her apartment phone clattered to the floor beside her.
Elle shook her head and attempted to push herself up, but her arms were shaking so badly, they wouldn't support her. She glanced behind her and realized that her attacker was taking the time to lock the front door. He was turning around when someone, probably one of her neighbors, knocked on the door.
"Excuse me," came a male voice through the door. "I heard a crash and a scream. Are you all right in there? Do you need some help? I can call 911 for you."
911! Of course!
"Help!" Elle yelled. A boot in her ribs cut off any further cries.
The man turned back the door. With shaking hands, Elle grabbed at the phone. Blood dripped into her eyes. Her hands were covered in it, and made the device slippery. She dropped it on her first try. She hid it from view with her body while her assailant was busy trying to reassure the neighbor that they were fine and just moving furniture; the screams he heard were from the TV.
Nightwing was cutting through the sparse, late-night traffic that traveled back and forth between Bludhaven and Gotham. He was halfway there and figured he should make it to the rendezvous point with plenty of room to spare. He was just a little more than thirty minutes out of Gotham when a shot of fear nearly sent his bike skidding out from under him.
He fought for control and straightened out. The blaring horn of a semi as it barreled past him told him how close he cut it.
Elle?! What the hell?
He checked his chronometer on the inside of his visor. Elle should be sleeping now. Did she stay up to watch a movie or was she actually in danger? The bond was frustrating in that it would send you bursts of the other person's emotions and give you a sort of nervous agitation until you acted on it. Unfortunately, it gave you no real information about what caused the burst of fear or anger or whatever wild emotion you were experiencing. This could be nothing more than a mouse startling her or a bad dream.
Batman was depending upon him to assist him in what had been a culmination of months of work. He could just go home only to discover that Elle had had a nightmare, but . . . Dick thought about her brother and his temper; and how he was determined to regain their father's company from her. He personally didn't believe that Aiden would give up so easily, but to come to Bludhaven . . .?
"Elle's home number," he intoned to the speech activated link in his helmet. He listened to the busy signal.
"Elle's cell phone number," he gave next. He was immediately rolled into voicemail which meant she was currently charging the phone and had it off.
He slowed his speed as he contemplated turning around verses continuing onward toward Gotham.
She was currently on the phone, though.
She could call him if she truly needed him. Then again, she had promised not to call him while he patrolled unless it was a life and death emergency . . . So, maybe the situation wasn't as dire as his gut was telling him.
"911, what's your emergency?"
Oh God, the voice that came through the phone was too loud!
Elle panicked a little. Her phone had a volume control, but, dazed and panicking as she was, she couldn't figure out where the button for it was located.
"Shh . . ." her voice was breathless and shaky as she whispered into the receiver. "He's still here."
"Who's there? Is there an intruder in your home?" The voice continued at the same volume.
"Please," Elle panted. "Send . . . help."
"What is your address?"
"Shh. He'll hear you . . . I can't . . ." Elle broke off with a gasp.
A slam and a thump sounded behind her.
He's coming back!
Leaving the phone line open, Elle shoved the handset away from her. She was so weak, however, that it only slid a few feet away; coming to rest near the edge of another piece of furniture. Her bloody fingerprints were all over it. She prayed he wouldn't notice it lying there; prayed the dispatcher would stop talking!
"I apologize for the interruption, sweetheart. What's the matter? Don't tell me you've run out of fight already? Oh, baby! You and I, we're just getting started." Her attacker chuckled.
The son of a bitch was enjoying himself!
Elle tried to crawl away only to have the man drag her back. She winced as she was pulled through splinters and broken glass. Flipping her over, he slapped her!
"Come on! Show some spirit! You're taking all the fun out of this."
Elle snarled at him. "My fiancée is a cop. If he catches you here, he'll put you down like the dog you are!"
The man hesitated. "What? You don't think I can take him?"
"No contest," she hissed at him.
He smiled at her. "Thanks for the warning, sweetheart . . . Because, you see, I'm here for supercop, too."
"Noooo . . ." Elle breathed. "Don't . . ."
"Oh yes. I don't know what you did to piss this guy off, baby, but I'm getting paid for two bodies." He leaned in closer and grinned. "And I was told to make it messy."
He laughed in her face as he pulled out a knife. "Thanks to you, I will retire as rich as a Spanish Conquistador . . . Or maybe a pirate. What do you think? Would I look good in a beard?"
She wouldn't go down without a fight. He meant to kill Dick! He meant to kill her, but if Elle died, then so would their child and that could not happen. She wouldn't allow it. Her hand shot out; slamming her palm heel into his chin. The sound of his teeth snapping shut was loud as he grunted.
Elle grabbed the broken leg of the table she had just demolished and swung it at his head. The blow was solid and struck him in his temple. It must have rung his bell, because her assaulter fell off of her; his knife skittering away under the table near her phone.
"You fucking little bitch!"
She struggled to regain her feet as she scrambled clumsily towards the door again, but her attacker was back on his feet in seconds. Grabbing her around the waist, he flung her into the entertainment center.
She fell to the floor as books, movies, and mementos tumbled and crashed around her. The camera landed on the floor near her hand. Elle knew this was the evidence needed to put this guy away forever, so she shoved it beneath a pile of books and broken pottery. To distract him from what she was doing, Elle rolled over as soon as he reached for her and slammed her foot into his crotch.
As far as distractions went, Elle thought that she might have gotten his full attention with that move. She rushed to get out of his way as he dropped, wheezing, to his knees. Should she try to get out of the apartment again? Should she run to the kitchen for some kind of weapon?
Torn, she hesitated just for a second. The man's hand clamped around her ankle as he yanked her feet out from under her. Elle fell forward; throwing her arms in front of her in an attempt to cushion the fall. The move failed miserably as sharp pain shot up her already injured arm. She grunted when her face struck the hardwood. The impact sent dazzling lights and dark spots spinning across her vision.
She kicked at the man holding her. Her free foot made contact with his face. Elle heard the crack and felt the sudden give of cartilage and bone. His hand loosened enough that she could pull herself out of his grip. She tried to regain her feet, but her legs refused to support her anymore. Crawling around the chair, Elle froze as she got her first unobstructed view of the front door.
A man in pajama bottoms and what she thought might have once been a white shirt lay crumpled across the floor in front of the door. His sightless eyes stared at her as the puddle of blood beneath him spread lazily in her direction. Oh God! Elle remembered sharing the elevator with him and his wife just last week!
The scream lodged in her throat. She couldn't talk; couldn't even breathe . . . There was an innocent man lying dead in her apartment and it was all her fault!
"What the fuck?"
Her assailant's voice dragged her back to reality, and she twisted to look behind her.
Oh, damn . . . He had found the phone.
"You called 911? You little sneak . . ."
He sounded more amused by his discovery rather than angry. In fact, he was smiling when he threw the phone at her.
Elle wanted to dodge, but she felt like she was mired in a foot of mud. Her movements were sluggish; slow. She flung her good arm up too late to block the device as it hit her in the face; splitting her lip and adding to the blood already dripping from her chin.
He stomped over to her and Elle scuttled back until she bumped into the wall behind her. He kneeled beside her. She blinked up at him, warily; too confused to know to cower.
"Change of plans, baby . . ."
He grabbed a handful of hair and used it to ram her head into the wall. Darkness crashed over her like a tidal wave; sweeping everything out from under her, including consciousness.
He picked up the phone. He considered smashing the thing, but instead he simply ended the call.
He had to admit, the woman had impressed him, but she was no match for a professional hitman. Few of his targets were, but she had shown pluck whereas most people begged for their lives. She had even managed to get in a couple of good shots at him. It would take a week before his nuts would drop from where they had lodged in his chest cavity after she had kicked him.
He smirked as he tossed the phone aside. Dialing 911 had been smart. As it was, he had no idea when the police would arrive. They could show up at any minute. He would need to improvise.
No matter, he thought; retrieving his knife and tossing the woman over his shoulder. This was why he was paid the big bucks, after all.
Anyone could kill someone or, with proper planning, even two someones. But the ability to think on your feet; accomplishing your goals even when monkey wrenches were thrown at you, and avoiding capture? This was why his services were in such demand.
He kicked the corpse of the nosy neighbor to the side so that he could open the door and walked out into the hall. He heard the creak of a door and immediately pulled out his gun; firing a bullet in that direction almost without thought. He heard the thunk of his bullet hitting wood. The door slammed shut with a bang. He grinned at the thought of the neighbor pissing his or herself as he entered the stairwell and started down with his prize.
"Yo ho, yo ho, it's a pirate's life for me," he sang cheerfully as he descended the steps.
Other men might have already been planning how to spend their treasure, but not him. He still had a job to do. He wasn't about to count his doubloons before he had earned them. The unexpected happens and plans change sometimes . . . This didn't upset him, however. He had done his research. In fact, he thought this way might prove to be more interesting.
REACTIONS? I expect a few . . .
One burning question has been answered only to be replaced by a dozen more! I won't make you wait too long. Expect another chapter tomorrow late afternoon or evening.
The title for this, if you haven't already guessed, represents a terrifying "home" invasion.
Bit of trivia . . . This scene and the ones following it were written about a year ago in longhand. Back before I even knew that Elle was anything more than an average human being that liked to sing and could swim pretty well. The entire story so far has been building for this moment. But we're not done by a long shot!