His silhouette was spectral in the doorframe.

I fumbled with my suitcase. I tried to keep my hands moving so he couldn't see how they shook. My consciousness prickled and my ears rung. I felt like an animal being hunted.

He's going to know what I did to you.

My gaze flicked up and, though I could tell he was still watching me in his periphery, his true attention was now aimed at the bed.

I shouldn't have packed a thing other than my Batsuit. What was I thinking, leading him straight to the scene of the crime?

My mind was scrambled by the events that had transpired not ten minutes before. I still felt the shameful blush of my orgasm on my chest and cheeks. Though my body was a lacquered in bruises and aches after the fight with The Joker, I couldn't help but focus on the slightly jelly-like feeling in my knees that I always felt after sex.

If I had more than a few moments to think things through before Blake returned home, perhaps I could have hidden the truth.

My hands grabbed things from my closet, but my mind swirled around my soulmate behind me.

What evidence would give me away?

I had only a moment to toss out the strands of rope and right the sheets.

What will he do when he pieces it together? Try to lock me away again?

Tears built in my throat as I imagined the betrayal he might feel if he really knew it all.

Would he ever forgive me?

I had imagined on my darkest days what Blake must have felt like knowing the love of his life had been raped only minutes before he arrived. It must have taken him years to heal.

How would he feel if it happened again, but this time he made me enjoy it?

Hatred shattered something in my chest and bloomed up like a mushroom cloud.

How could I let this happen again?

A warm hand touched my shoulder blade. I cringed, fighting hard not to flinch though he startled me. I bit down my tears with a hard swallow.

In a haze, I revolved to face him. My eyes fell to the scraps of black fabric he held. It was the underwear he'd left me in, shredded to bits by The Joker. As damning as a murder weapon.

A cryptic calm settled in me as I averted my gaze. I imagined myself watching a train barrel toward me and accepting my fate as I waited for the accusations, the hate, the betrayal to pour from him.

This could be the end of us. At least then he would be outside of The Joker's line of fire.

A beat of silence passed. There was a dull dripping sound. I looked down to see Blake's other arm clutching his left chest. Red weeped through the seams between his fingers. It must have been a wound from his fight with the goons earlier.

I choked on the I'm sorry I nearly murmured. I wondered what I was sorry for. For letting it happen? For how it would affect him? That it might happen again? That a part of me was becoming sure that The Joker is inescapable?

"Blaze," he started. Real tears slipped down his tight jaw. I watched them with a detached sort of interest. He never cried. His softening brown eyes searched mine though he knew what he would find – the truth that I was too much of a coward to say.

"We have to leave. Now. We don't have time to talk about this."

I shouldn't have averted him, I knew it in my gut. But I also knew with the same clarity that I didn't have the strength to face him again. I tried to shrug around him, but his black-clad arm flashed out to grip my wrist and block me. His thumb brushed the purple rings around my wrist as if to rub the pain away.

I felt the confrontation coming and something deep inside me scream to keep it all unsaid. After what had just happened, I felt near-shattering at the thought of this confrontation which I thought I would never have again. It would break me. We didn't have time to be broken, not with The Joker one step ahead of us.

"I can't," was all I had to say for myself as I shoved past him. I yanked on a pair of loose black corduroy pants and started toward my Converse. I slid them on my feet and tied the laces too tight.

I half-expected him to try to stop me, but he just stood there and inspected the room. I knew he saw the broken parts of the bedframe. I knew he felt the weight of my shredded panties in his hand like an anvil.

"He hurt you again," it was a statement, not a question.

"Blake," I warned sharply, "I said, 'I can't.' Get dressed into street clothes. We're fucking leaving."

A prickle of fear shot up my spine when he said, his tone simmering, "He put his hands on you again? In our bed?"

I surprised myself with my dark chuckle, my own rage blossoming in me like nightshade at the anger in his voice, "That's rich. You're mad? Mad? After you left me here, completely vulnerable, naked, with no weapons and no way to call for help? And you're the one mad?"

His jaw worked and his nostrils flared as he listened, eyes widening in a crazed look that I'd never seen on him. He still stood in the doorway of our closet, chillingly stoic, though the threat in his voice continued to rise, "What. The fuck. Happened?"

My smile was bitter as I shrugged off the bed and neared him. My posture was taught, like an arrow pulled tight on a bow. He peered down at me wildly, his shoulders heaving with manic breaths, his hand fisted now around my ruined underwear. His neck and ears were blood red and I knew he was close to breaking.

Still, I couldn't help but rise to his threatening tone. I was sure that he would be the one subdued if he tried to lock me up again. I was arms-length from him when I said, "Nothing, Blake. Not a goddamn fucking thing. Now, let's go. I won't ask you again."

Betrayal flashed in his feral eyes, "Why are you lying again?"

"I have to lie to you. Because you cannot handle the fucking truth."

"And what's that?"

My laugh was cruel, "The truth is that you and I are supposed to be fucking partners. If you hadn't locked me away, we could have had him tonight. Instead, you completely disrespected me and took away my choice just like he does."

Hurt tugged down his brows, but his intensity remained the same, "Because you cannot handle him on your own, as you clearly proved tonight!"

"That is so unfair. Despite the complete disadvantage you left me in, I almost had him tonight! I had him in a perfect arm bar even with my hands bound! If I had my armor, or a weapon – "

"And then what happened, hm? He probably got out of it by touching you or threatening me. It's always going to be the same with him! No matter how well you fight him, he's willing to do things you just aren't. He will always win when it's just you and him. You have to be removed from the fucking equation. It has to be me that takes him down."

I hadn't realized it until my back bumped against the wall, but Blake had been taking slow steps toward me. I'd let him corner me. I shoved him back.

"Get the fuck away from me. After the night I've had because of you, I'm not listening to a second more of this. I'm leaving."

Now, it was his turn for a wry chuckle, "And where do you plan to go? He's clearly got eyes on you, on us. He'll follow you. He'll hunt you down. And if he can't find you – he'll flush you out with threats."

"He even said himself that he doesn't expect me to run! I can get away and collect my thoughts. Then I'll circle back to Gotham for the kill."

"After he raped you again tonight," terror clawed through me hearing him say the words, "You really think that you can take him without me? Listen to yourself, Blaze. I love you, but you're fucking delusional! This isn't like the games that you play in alleys beating up blue-collar creeps! He will fucking destroy you!"

"I can't let him hurt anyone else – he almost blew up a diner's worth of people last night! His lackeys stabbed you in the chest today! He almost took that girl and killed her sister. If anything, I can draw him away from Gotham, from you – "

"I'm not listening to this anymore," his tone turned to ice, "I've tried to make you see reason. We're staying here and staking him out. You're going back in the panic room and I'm going to be waiting for the bastard with guns loaded to end this once and fucking for all. Is that clear?"

I didn't give him a chance to act on his promises. I swung the baton that I had hidden behind my thigh in a wide arc, intersecting him perfectly on the corner of his sharp jaw.

His face turned to the side harshly and he stumbled. Without hesitation, I pushed up the window to my right and hoisted myself onto the roof. My Converse slid down the shingles of our roof with a clatter. I felt air woosh behind me and I knew that it was from Blake's hand barely missing a swipe at my arm. I had only few seconds worth of a head start.

I caught the side of the gutter as I slipped off the edge of the roof. I let my legs dangle for a moment before I released my grip on the gutter, letting myself roll to the cold grass outside of our window. An eerie calm had settled over me as I shrugged into a standing position and zipped toward the front of the house. I opened our garage with my finger print and was just starting up my personal motorcycle when the garage door banged open. I didn't spare Blake a glance back as I twisted the handle and was all-but-flying out of the garage.

I spotted the Bat motorcycle laying haphazardly on our driveway. Blake must have tossed it down when he saw the smashed in windows in our home. I let my motorcycle slow when I neared his. Before I could talk myself out of it, I reached down and snatched on of my small knives from its holster on the side of my motorcycle. I buried the tip of it in the Bat motorcycle's front tire as I passed despite Blake's shouted warning at my back.

My tires traced the same road that The Joker had escaped down mere minutes ago. As I distanced myself from Blake's unintelligible screams at my back, I became aware of how freezing the Gotham air truly was. I was outfitted in a tight white shirt that was as protective against the cold as a tissue in a hurricane.

The scorching warmth of my cheeks and the black pit of emotions swirling in me calmed. I was thankful for the cold then, as it made any thoughts of Blake or The Joker or my devastation secondary. Perhaps it was better this way, with Blake and I separated. These past few days were hell, not only because of The Joker's actions, but because of Blake's reaction. He had morphed into a monster of his own, too blinded by rage to see how his refusal to let me make my own choices landed us deeper in shit.

My lights illuminated only the trees around me as I glided along the road with practiced ease. I started toward from the heart of Gotham though my true aim was still unclear even to me. I wondered why I wasn't crying. Then again, my adrenaline was still high from the events of the night.

I need a plan.

Everyone is always one step ahead of me.

Blake and The Joker would be in pursuit of me, of that much I was sure. But how would they go about actually finding me?

I peaked behind myself for the millionth time, but the road behind me was a still dark thing. I was alone for miles around. Something teased at the back of mind as I accelerated evermore.

He's going to know what I did to you.

How did he know that we had a camera in every room? Sure, he had seen the camera in the kitchen, smiled at it even, but he hadn't seemed to take note of any of the other cameras throughout the house.

Maybe he was pretending not to notice them. Maybe he knew all along that they were there because he hacked them. Maybe The Joker had access to security footage from all around the city and that's how he kept finding me. I couldn't say Blake and I were any better. We had hacked just about every camera in the city at some point looking for various bad guys. I'm sure Blake would resort to the same tactics to find me now that I'd slipped from his grasp.

And then there was a matter of the motorcycle. Though it was my personal bike, I couldn't be sure that it wasn't being traced as well. The sooner I could ditch it, the better. Even better still if someone stole it.

The edges of the city began to fall around me. Shitty bars filled with shitty patrons poured out riotous music into the street. Other cars filled in passively around me and I shuddered at the exposure I felt. I delved slightly further into the city until I stumbled upon the Narrows, an area not too far from where I beat up those guys a few nights ago.

That'll do just fine.

I picked an empty parking space in front of a rundown apartment complex and slid in. I jumped off the bike and popped open the storage compartment in one fluid motion. I pocketed the wallet with the fake ID and wad of cash stuffed inside, stowed that way for situations such as this. With a beat of reluctance, I left the keys propped up on the seat for any passerby and I hoped that they would take advantage and send Blake on a wild fucking goose chase looking for my tracker.

I sighed, folding my arms against the cold of the evening as I made it my business to get as far away as fucking possible from my bike. I jogged down the street, peaking around me all the while to make sure that I didn't have any company.

I cursed myself for not thinking to swipe a jacket before I left. My red hair would make it exceedingly easy to see me on security footage. I wrapped my hair up in a shitty bun as I dove between alleys trying to make any stalkers show themselves. I happened upon a subway station and flitted inside. An older man was seated on a bench just inside the subway car, nursing a cup of coffee and facing toward the oncoming trains expectantly. I almost felt guilty as I swiped the leather blazer and scarf he had slung up over the back of the bench. I silently thanked him as I just barely made it through the closing doors of the departing train and slipped his coat on. It was large and smelled of cigarettes, but I snuggled into it like a baby into their first blanket.

I silently navigated the half-full train car, my aim for a seat near an exit in case I had to make a quick getaway. My gaze darted around to the other bodies as I took my seat, but found nothing except the last remnants of the 7 o'clock commuters with no one paying me particular mind. I wrapped the man's scarf around my hair, glaring at myself in the dirty window across from me.

My knee bounced. What now? I tried to flick through my memory of the cameras in subways. At least in Gotham, there were no cameras in the subway cars themselves, only in the loading areas. When Blake and I had been pouring over security footage in search of The Joker, we found that two of the twenty stops within Gotham had several cameras out of order. I could remember one in particular that was a few stops up on this same train.

If they're watching the cameras, that'll be my chance to lose them. They'll both be expecting me to keep running tonight. Maybe I should hunker down and find some shitty cash-only motel instead?

The momentum of the train slowed. The doors to my left groaned open. Bodies filtered in and out, several of them bumping into one another without apology. I peeked over my shoulder at the loading dock. There was a short bald man that caught my attention after a moment of scanning as he leaned against the grimy gray wall. He was on the phone and smirking and looking right fucking at me.

Shit.

Before I could do more than tense, our gazes broke and he started to jog up the steps situated to his right. I glared at his departing hoodie, wondering what the fuck that was all about.

That's it. Cameras or not, I'm getting off at the next stop.

Our train rumbled out of the gate slowly. My eyes flicked around at the new and old occupants of the train as I considered my new plan of attack. With my hair covered and my new nondescript black jacket, it would make me much harder to find on security footage. My best chance would be to walk out with a crowd and try to find a bus or cab to take me further out of the city where there were fewer cameras.

But where will you go then? What will Blake and The Joker do when they find out they've lost you?

My fists wrung together as I considered the options I'd left The Joker. Once he discovered that I ran, would he bother chasing? Or would he just go straight to threatening the city to flush me out?

Would you come out if he pulls the right strings? How can you when you feel nauseas at the mere thought of seeing him again? Do you really have the courage to put yourself in his line of fire again? Or are you really such a coward that you would let civilians be harmed?

I considered the bald man from the previous station.

Maybe it's better if he does find me. Maybe that's one of his goons keeping an eye out for me. Maybe I should let him come and end him right fucking here and now in this subway car full of people for what he's done to me, to Blake, to this city.

The fantasy was so beautiful that it made my heart stutter, but I knew better than to trust it.

Blake had one thing right. He knows all the right things to say and the right nerves to tickle to force my emotions to take over. I needed to evade him for now so he could lose sight of me. Then, I would strike with some actual surprise. I cursed myself as I tossed around the possibility that he watched us through our home monitoring these past few days. According to him, he knew Blake was elsewhere because he knew Blake was tied up in a fight, but what if that wasn't true? It would be in his best interest to keep that little trick a secret in the hopes that we would stick around in that house as long as possible.

Then why would he ask if Blake locked you up?

To make you squirm, as fucking always.

Fuck, I hope Blake isn't planning to hang around there much longer.

I tilted to the side as the subway shuddered to a stop again. I huffed into standing, gripping the handrail as we rolled into the station. My heart stopped along with the train when I saw two men craning their necks on the opposite platform. They were clearly looking for something or someone and they looked to be sketchy types. One of them turned on his heel and was about to face me when bodies began spilling into the train.

Biting my lip, I made the snap-decision stay on for just one more stop. My plan would be ruined if they recognized me. I used the bolus of bodies to select another seat. I chose a window seat several rows back from my original so I could get a good look at the platform before I made a run for it next time.

As the new passengers settled around me and the doors shuttered closed, I peered through the glass at the two men I'd seen earlier. My breathing returned to a normal rhythm as one of them picked up a cellphone from beneath a bench.

They were just looking for their phone, not you, I reassured myself with some deep breaths.

My thoughts were interrupted when someone fell into the seat next to me, their thigh bouncing against mine. Annoyance stabbed.

"Lots of empty seats, would you mind - ?"

"It's for you," an angry-sounding feminine voice replied.

A manicured hand offered me a cell phone. The screen displayed an unknown number. I followed the hand up to the girl's face and fought to hide my surprise.

It's her. The girl from the docks.

"I said, 'it's for you,'" she emphasized, shaking the phone. She looked like hell despite her business casual outfit. There was a split in her lip and a poorly-concealed bruise beneath makeup around her eye. Her sleeve was pulled over her right hand, which I could tell was plastered with a cast. I remembered the crunch of her fingers beneath The Joker's. Her gaze was wild, her chest heaving. I didn't have time to place her frustration before I pushed the phone into my ear.

I knew who it would be. But it didn't stop the sinking feeling in my stomach when I heard his languid voice over the phone.

"Running from me so soon, princess?"