Full Summary: During a mysterious blackout, Angelo Falcone, the son of Gotham's most powerful family, is kidnapped. GCPD detectives Laurel Chandler and Tess Vargas are on the case when they learn of a second missing person: Laurel's father has disappeared from his prison cell in Blackgate. Bruce Wayne is desperate to help Laurel, but as tensions rise, the couple becomes caught in a trap where the only way out is to confront their pasts. AU.
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"If all else perished, and he remained, I shall continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were to be annihilated, the universe would turn into a mighty stranger."
—Emily Brontë, "Wuthering Heights"
"Tess, I remember the name of that 'intimate lingerie' shop," Laurel Chandler said into her cell phone as she walked down the hall of her apartment building. Her keys were in her hand and triumph wafted around her like sweet perfume. "Easy Pickin's."
"Blech. More like Sleazy Pickin's," Tess Vargas quipped from the other end of the call. Her voice was barely audible through the background din.
Laurel's partner was still celebrating at Rosie's Bar with the rest of the 125th precinct, where she and Laurel were detective, first grade, Special Crimes. Nobody could celebrate like the 125th, especially when a case they had cleared came back from the jury with an ironclad conviction for murder one, just as it had late that afternoon. The notorious Justus Zilpho had received a sentence of life in prison with no possibility of parole. A brutal murderer was off the streets of Gotham forever.
And we did it, Laurel thought happily. Tess and I. They had been the lead detectives on the case.
"We can check it out first thing tomorrow," Laurel said. "I'll stop by Il Cantuccio for the coffees and you—"
"Down, girl. Pretty sure lingerie shops aren't open for business by the dawn's early light. Tonight let's just enjoy the afterglow from putting away Zilpho. It's like the old days, Laurel. Vargas and Chandler are back, baby!"
"We really are," Laurel chuckled, agreeing. "You made this conviction happen by developing that CI."
"No, you made it happen when you traced Zilpho's getaway car to the wrecking yard. Best partner ever!" Tess sighed happily.
"We're both pretty damn awesome." Laurel did a quick visual scan of the hallway. No lurkers, no strangers. Good. "Cap wants us to be careful," she reminded Tess. "Zilpho swore revenge."
Tess grunted. "Yeah, right. Guys like him talk big until they put on the orange jumpsuit. Then it's tears and prayers. Best thing Zilpho can do is become a model prisoner. Lay low and rack up privileges. Double servings of Jell-O become a very big deal when you're rotting your life away in jail… Oh, hey, Cap is buying another round!"
"Go. Enjoy," Laurel urged her.
"On it." Tess disconnected without anymore prompting from her friend and partner.
Laurel smiled wistfully. It was only seven-thirty in the evening. For a minute she wondered why she'd left the celebration at Rosie's Bar so soon, why it had seemed important to rush home. Captain Lowan had been so proud of his "girl team" that he might as well have bought them roses and tiaras. It seemed like just yesterday day he'd been threatening to fire their asses if they didn't clear more cases.
Oh, wait, it had been yesterday.
Well, hopefully those dicey days were over. She was sure she and Tess would regain their bragging rights for highest clearance rate in the city.
She put her key in the lock of her front door, emotionally preparing herself for the emptiness that was inevitably waiting for her on the other side. Thanks to the scheming of Harvey Dent, the assistant district attorney of Gotham—who had briefly been Laurel's boyfriend—her real boyfriend, Bruce Wayne (also known as Batman, to a select few) is a fugitive again in his own city, hunted by every law enforcement agency out there. If she could put away Zilpho, she could figure out a way to clear Batman's name and bring him back into the light once and for all.
Then, maybe, they could have a normal life together, a future, with all the wonderful things most dating couples took for granted. Such as, well, actual dates.
The masked crusader was the one person she really wanted to celebrate with, but all she had with him were stolen moments that were few and far between. Better one moment in a thousand with him than a lifetime of moments without him, she reminded herself.
Laurel opened the door and caught her breath in surprise at the beauty and splendor before her. This, clearly, one of those magical times. In her living room, a dozen ivory candles gleamed with cut-crystal holders, their warm yellow light catching on a silver ice bucket containing a bottle of her favorite champagne. Beside the bucket sat two crystal champagne flutes and a small box of chocolates wrapped in gold foil and gold ribbon, topped with a gold mesh bow. Crossing to her coffee table, she examined the card slipped beneath the ribbon.
'Congratulations,' it was written in Bruce's slanted handwriting. He knew how important this conviction was to her and must have found out about the verdict.
And he's here.
Her delighted smile widened when she saw him leaning against the doorjamb to her bedroom. He was wearing a white terrycloth bathrobe, revealing his muscular legs, forearms, and bare feet. The candlelight cast angles and hollows in his chiseled, lean face, his features honed by his life as a passionate fighter for justice.
Now, though, his face was softened by his sexy, happy smile in answer to hers. Steamy water droplets clung to his short, dark hair and his eyes blazed not with the feral aggression of his dark side, but the passionate love he bore for Laurel. His pleasure at seeing her thrilled her heart. It was the perfect ending to a wonderful day.
"Laurel," he said in his deep, gravelly voice, and she unslung her purse, dropped it on the sofa, and went to him. Their arms came around each other and she felt the reflexive restraint of his muscles, always protective of her. Even though she could take down gangbangers and FBI assassins, she was still fully human, and far more fragile than a lot of the enemies that the Batman had come up against.
Laurel never felt safer than in his embrace.
Their lips met. Rosy joy transported her to their secret place, and nothing could come between them. It was a world of stars and rooftops, gently falling snow, and dreams of a future where they were free to be together without fear of capture, or worse. In that world, all that mattered to her was this man, and she knew that all that mattered to him was her, Laurel Chandler, whose life he had saved on that icy, nightmarish night over a year ago.
His strong, rapid heartbeat pulsed beneath the flat of her hand as he drew her close.
Laurel shut her eyes and inhaled the clean scent of him, heard his low moan as their kiss deepened. She was never more alive than they were as one. Tastes were more intense. Colors were brighter. All she heard was the whisper of her name on his lips, the pull of the moon in an ocean of love, and her body singing for him in response, rushing toward him, toward their ecstasy.
Anticipating it all, her body yearned for his. She let him know how very much she wanted him. He did the same.
"You're home earlier than I thought you'd be," Bruce mused, when they finally managed to pull far enough apart to speak, and to gaze into each other's eyes. "I wasn't quite ready."
"I'm glad you didn't have time to dress," she replied, with a teasing tug on the belt of his robe. "And as for being ready…"
"Oh, I am. I had no intention of putting on clothes. I just wanted to add this to the table."
Bruce slipped into the bedroom, then from behind his back he held out a deep, velvety-red rose. When she took the step his thumb brushed the back of her hand as if he couldn't stop touching her. She ran her forefinger over his warm skin. Then she kissed him again in thanks and they walked hand-in-hand to her couch.
She inhaled the heavenly fragrance. "This is so thoughtful, Bruce," she said. "Thank you."
"I wanted tonight to be perfect. I know how much this conviction means to you," he said. "You and Tess worked so hard to put Zilpho away."
"Any time we're together, it's perfect."
"I'm glad you think so."
"I know so."
He eased Laurel down and her weary muscles melted as she curled up, head in hand, watching as he grabbed the champagne bottle and popped the cork. He bent forward to hand her the glass, poured a second, and they clinked the rims together. He gazed into her eyes and she saw his fierce pride in her. He admired her for being good at her job, and that made her want to be even better at it.
We're better together than we are apart, she thought. How many times had she told him that when he would try his best to push her away?
"To you," he toasted.
"To justice," she rejoined, and they sipped. This evening she and Tess had thrown back whiskey and beer, cop booze, and the sublime champagne reminded her that her life with Bruce was so different, and that so much of it was unbelievably wonderful.
He sat beside her and pulled her feet onto his lap as she popped a chocolate into his mouth. She bit into a cordial with a hazelnut center. Her shoes thunked to the floor as he began to massage her feet and she wrinkled her nose, a tad embarrassed. She had walked the mean streets of Gotham City today, and she felt grimy beside this immaculate man and all the luxuries he had arranged for her.
"I should take a shower," she protested gently, even as an appreciative groan escaped her. "You are so good at that."
"That's not at all I'm good at," he said huskily.
Then he stood, scooped her in his arms, and she laughed, holding their champagne glasses in the air and balancing her rose and her box of chocolates in her lap as he carried her down the hall and into the bathroom. She peeled off her clothes and me made a short work of the bathrobe. Fragrant soap and steam washed away the day and, by the time he lay her on the bed, she felt like an entirely new person, still glowing from the thrill of victory. Today a jury of Zilpho's peers had put away a very bad man. An evil man. The system had worked.
She had become a cop for days like this.
But for moments like these, she was simply a woman in love. She reached for him and he gently lowered himself down, gathering her up and giving himself to her. They moved together and she experienced an all-time high at seeing the look of blissful ecstasy on his face when he came undone.
When they were both sated, they ate chocolates and finished the champagne. She stroked his cheek and trailed her fingers down his arm. As tiredness caught up to the two, he clasped her fingers in his and snuggled her against his chest. His heartbeat was powerful, comforting.
There's a miracle in my bed tonight, she thought as she began to drift.
Somewhere in the distance a siren blared. A dog barked as if in answer.
Half-asleep, Bruce mumbled, "Intimate lingerie shop?"
She laughed. "You heard that, huh? An informant implicated Easy Pickin's in a money laundering ring—don't make jokes about it. Tess and I have run through them all."
"Well, I know you'll collar them."
"Except that one." She batted at him playfully.
She told him a little bit about the case, and he listened intently. Then she dozes contentedly in his arms, drifting in dreams to the words of a song they had danced to together:
"You're my guiding light."
Bruce Wayne was so much more to her than that.
She felt the welcome weight of his muscular arm over her, the dip in the mattress from his body. He was there. It was so special, yet rare, when they could sleep side-by-side.
If only you could be here when I wake up, she thought. Every morning that I wake up.
But she would not ruin this night by wishing for things she couldn't have. She would be grateful for what she did have. And she was unbelievably grateful.
Smiling, she surrendered to sleep.
A/N: So Laurel and Bruce already have an established relationship. As the story progresses we will dive more into their background together. I know it's a little confusing right now, but just hang in there with me. I'll try to make it worth your while—promise!
Feedback is always appreciated! :)