Liability

by Emillion_Naps

Summary:

“É ele,” Tiago whispered excitedly as he pointed to the pointed tips on the man’s cowl, “Batman, pois não?”

“Pois não,” Evelyn breathed, taking the body in. Somehow she hadn’t noticed before, but once he had said it, it was obvious.

She had just pulled Batman out of a dumpster.

Chapter 1: A Liability

Notes:

Welcome!
Updates have unfortunately been a bit touch and go as of late. I apologize and vow to do better for you all. So! To do that, I have gotten back into the story by editing the chapters to either clarify, add detail, or change things to work with the events of later chapters better. Happy Reading!

 

The fire cannot touch me,

for I have burned one too many times.

The sea cannot harm me,

For I have been drowning all my life.

Oh, but you could rip my heart open…

For I have never known love before.

- R. |  ASTHRERIA

 

 

---

 

Tricorner Island– February 13 th, 3:45 am

 

 

Everyone said he was the real villain.

Reporters claimed Batman was a cancer upon Gotham. The crime rate was higher than ever in the city ever since the flood. The flood he reportedly caused. He created far more fear than he quelled, they said. He wasn't the hero the people so desperately wanted him to be.

But Evelyn never saw it like that.

Batman was a savior. 

He was the one thing keeping Gotham from crumbling to the ground. Even the GCPD couldn't stop the rising crime rate- not that they tried all too hard to do so. Batman had been a looming presence ever since Evelyn moved to Jersey. He'd always been behind the scenes; keeping the city safe. In a way, that meant she was safe too.

But that didn’t mean she liked walking alone at night- especially in a downpour like the one that cold winter.

Soaked to the bone, Evelyn hurried down the dimly lit streets of Tricorner Island, an expert at hiding in the shadows and keeping her steps silent. Years of training made her paranoid about what could be hiding around every corner. Her keys were kept tightly tucked between each finger; in her opposite fist, a can of pepper spray where her finger lay on the trigger. 

The buses had stopped running hours before she clocked out for the night. And if the taxis weren’t so insanely overpriced, she might have hailed one a few miles back. But with a mere eighteen dollars to her name, Evelyn braved the rain and trekked the two hours home. 

The knot between her shoulders eased as the awning of her apartment building broke through the sheets of rain. All she wanted was to curl up with her quilt and a nice, warm bowl of canned soup. But she paused, her sneakers squeaking to a stop.

A child sat curled into the fetal position as if to shield himself from the rain leaking through the fabric awning. 

She knew better. She knew how common of a trap this was; leaving a helpless child in the street for some Good-Samaritan to tend to, only for them to end up bloodied and beaten in an alley. Her hand flew to her hip before she could take a moment to think. Her fingers grasped for a gun that no longer lived on her person.

Through a shaky breath she steadied herself. She wasn’t on tour anymore. She was safe. Relatively safe. 

She sighed, her lungs tight as if they’d just run a marathon without the rest of her. She continued her way home, only passing a fleeting glance at the child on the floor. Her chest tightened even more at familiar black curls dangling from the hood.

“Tiago?”

The child perked up, scrambling to his feet with a toothy grin. Well, mostly toothy. He’d lost the front two a few days before, leaving the boy with a gap and a lisp. It never stopped him from babbling on in Portuguese every chance he got; whether she understood him or not.

“Eva!” Tiago wrapped Evelyn’s legs in a crushing embrace for an eight-year-old. She embraced him best she could, her head on a swivel. No one lurking in the shadows. No one was waiting for her to let her guard down. Safe…

“Eva! Venha rápido! Ele precisa da sua ajuda!” Tiago grasped her jacket sleeve, almost yanking her arm out of its socket.

“Tio- Hold on!” 

But Tiago never let up. They turned sharply down the alley beside their building- the kind with barely enough room for the fire escape and a dumpster to fit yet people still park their cars as if it weren’t a hindrance. He kept her sleeve balled in his fist, babbling just low enough the rain washed his words away.

Towards the end of the alley, he broke away just to scramble forward and hang on the rusting edge of the dumpster. He waved for Evelyn to join him, a giddy and gap-tooth grin plastered on his face.

“What the hell am I doing?” Evelyn mumbled to herself as she stalked closer towards the dumpster, lid slightly ajar. Bracing herself for the stench, she lifted the lid tenitavly. Holding her jacket sleeve over her nose she peered in only to find a mass of wet, black trash bags and a box or two soaked through and tucked in the back. Nothing new... 

But one thing caught her attention. A copper taste on her tongue. The smell of trash tasted funny, sure. But not like this.

She fumbled to unzip her jacket, pulling the flashlight from the pocket of her scrubs. The light was dim, but just enough for Evelyn to see blood. Far too much blood. 

A gasping sound could be heard in rhythm with the downpour, and Evelyn’s grip on her flashlight went limp.

“Shit!”

Evelyn dove in practically head-first; fumbling for anything to grab in the pitch black. Cool metal and leather were slick with blood and rain, her fingertips slipping around until they could find any traction. She hooked her arms beneath the limp figure’s armpits and lifted them out, straining her jaw as she struggled with the weight on her own.

She laid them on the ground, watching the figure yet again begin to blend in against the asphalt. She felt along the minimally exposed flesh, unable to tell their pulse from her own. Shuttered breaths escaped the body as soon as her cold fingers found clearance upon the soft skin beneath their ear. 

Evelyn sighed in relief. They were alive at least.

Tiago tugged at her hood before she could celebrate. Evelyn squinted up at the boy, rain dripping from her eyelashes. He was beaming excitedly down at the body.

“É ele,” Tiago whispered excitedly as he pointed to the pointed tips on the man’s cowl, “Batman, pois não?”

Somehow she hadn’t noticed before, but once he had said it, it was obvious. The bat emblem on his chest gleaned silver in the lights of a passing car, standing out just as Gordon’s spotlight did against the night sky.

“Pois não,” Evelyn parrots, her words not nearly as excitable as her companions.

Anyone could be hiding in the shadows. 

Anyone could be watching them. 

Trap , her instincts screamed. Trap, trap, trap.

Swiftly, she stood and hooked her arms under Batman's shoulders. With some help from Tiago -and coaxing of what Evelyn now realized was armor- she carried her new patient on her shoulders in a fireman's carry. Confidently, she found her way back to the front of the apartment building with Tiago just a step behind her. Passerby's wouldn't be a problem they knew. No one called the police in this neighborhood unless there was a shooting, and sometimes not even then.

She shuffled into the building doors, thankful no one was lurking inside. Tiago hurried to the elevator and threw open the grated door. Evelyn hated the thing- being built in the twenties and just barely passing inspection. But she knew ascending three flights of stairs would perhaps kill the three of them. Tiago -ever the gentleman- closed the gate behind Evelyn and pressed the button for their floor.

The metal beneath them groaned at the weight, and she sent up a prayer that the box wouldn’t drop all three of them into the abyss. What a way to go, Batman...

Mr. Matos stood at the elevator door, arms and face crossed. He was a rather large and gruff Brazilian man; intimidation incarnate. Even in just his pajama pants, Evelyn felt a pang of fear in her chest. He threw open the door with a large CLANG before the elevator officially made its stop. But whatever anger had been there before faded at the sight. 

“Eve?” Mr. Matos warily asked with a raise of his brow and the gruff of his voice, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“He’s hurt.”

Those were the only words Mr. Matos needed. He hurried his son toward their apartment at the end of the hall, Evelyn trudging behind them. Mr. Matos had already opened her door when she arrived, barking orders to his son. 

“My first aid kit is under the sink,” Evelyn breathlessly said. She set the Caped Crusader down carefully on her dining room table before slumping into one of the seats herself. She shrugged off her jacket, her navy scrubs still clinging to the skin where the rain had not been kind. Mr. Matos came to her side, first aid kit open and ready. Tiago had already brought over every towel she owned.

“Are you sure you can do this?” Mr. Matos eyed his neighbor warily. She only nodded in return and stood to be at her patient's side. 

“Yes.” Shakily, Evelyn pulled on her gloves and nodded for Mr. Matos to do the same. Then her sole attention was turned to the man on her table.

She assessed as much of his injuries as she could around his armored suit. The bleeding at his shoulder and his side were from stab wounds she was sure would need sutures. She carefully pulled off his cowl, feeling around the back of his head for open wounds.

"You lucky son of a bitch..." She sighed in relief as she only found a fresh but mild burn on his neck. “You’ve got a guardian angel on your side.”

With the help of the Matos boys, Evelyn was able to shred every piece of armor he wore -decency be damned. The bleeding at his shoulder wasn’t easily stopped, causing a fleury of curses to fall from her lips. Mr. Matos only told his son not to repeat a thing she said.

“He needs stitches…” Evelyn sighed. “Quite a few actually.”

“You think you can do it?” Mr. Matos asked with raised brows.

“I don’t do stitches on the living in my line of work,” she quipped. “Not like he’ll complain.”

Soon, she began making slow, steady work along the wound- eight stitches in total. It hadn’t pierced deep enough to harm much more than the muscle. From the looks of him, Evelyn assumed he got hurt like this often. Must come with the job, she assumed.

She stepped back as soon as she was finished, watching Mr. Matos methodically clean the wounds.

“Tio,” Evelyn whispered between gasps of breath, “Bottom drawer of my dresser, there’s uh- moletom and a uh… camisa . Grab those for me, please.”

Tiago did so without question, coming back with clothing in hand. Mr. Matos was quick to clothe the man on the table, letting Evelyn catch her breath. Once decent again, the adults moved the limp figure to the mattress on the floor. 

And there they let him be. 

 

---

 

 

Tricorner Island– February 13 th, 1:27 PM

 

Pain roared in Bruce’s head.

His skull felt ready to burst open. 

What the hell happened?

He snapped his eyes open at the sound of barely-there footsteps pacing the floor. His vision blurred. The room was completely dark save for what light escaped from the curtain.

He struggled to sit up, his brain feeling as if it was sloshing in his skull. A low moan of pain left his lips as he held his head in his hand, willing the pressure away. Soft shushing eased the ache in his skull briefly. A gentle hand laid on his back, the thumb rubbing in soft circles.

"Hey…" a voice whispered, soft and silken. "Glad to see you're up. Are you nauseous?"

Bruce shook his head slightly. Another hand came to his chest, laying him back again. A rattle was enough noise for him to squeeze his eyes tight and lock his jaw in a grimace. 

"You need to take these…" the gentle voice spoke again. "They'll ease the pain. Are you allergic to any medication like oxi or acetaminophen?"

"No…" Bruce croaked out, his throat dryer than he had expected.

"Good."

He parted his lips just slightly, letting her place the pills between them. She then urged him to drink water, encouraging him with what sounded like melodies. He never had a nurse so calming or so reassuring.

Shit . 

Nurse? 

If he were at Gotham General Hospital, the media would be right outside the doors. His life as a vigilante would come to an end. His life's work would be gone in an instant.

Shitshitshit .

Bruce bolted upright again, regretting it moments too late. His caretaker soothed him as he grabbed for his head again. But as his vision cleared, he found the situation was far worse.

The room was practically a closet with pale yellow paint peeling in the corners. He was laying on an air mattress, covered in piles of old quilts and crocheted blankets. Barely two steps ahead was a table covered in peeling teal paint, and two chairs to match.

Not a hospital. But… not precisely the kind of room he expected was used for torture. 

"It's okay," the gentle voice soothed in his ear. "You're safe here."

"Where's that?" He forced through gritted teeth.

"Tricorner."

Yup. He was going to die.

He turned his head slowly, the woman coming into view. Her dark hair was pulled up, tendrils hanging loose around her face. Once glowing, copper skin now sullen and ashen from the exhaustion that plagued her. Yet despite how tired she was, her dark eyes smiled at him.

Frozen for merely a moment, he held her gaze.

"I found you in the dumpster on my way home from work." She said softly, her eyes heavy with worry. "Any idea how you got there?"

“It’s… a blur…”

“Well, don’t strain yourself too much.”

She hurried to the kitchen, making the only breakfast she knew she had enough of, oats.

Bruce tried to relax, replaying the events in his mind until it all became too fuzzy. A man in a mask just like always. Then a sharp pain in his neck. Kicks and blows, though whether he was taking them or dealing them he wasn’t sure anymore. 

Then a kid. 

A kid, crying and screaming. No more than eight, maybe younger. Bruce rubbed at his temples, eager to ease the oncoming headache. Then he froze, his blood running cold.

“You’ve seen my face?” He struggled to sit up again, trying to focus his gaze. Instead, the woman kept puttering around the kitchen, humming ever so lightly to herself. 

“It’s not nice to ignore people you know.”

“Do you want milk?” She asked, glancing over her shoulder at him. Her face pinched into a frown. “I told you to relax.”

“And I told you it wasn’t nice to ignore people.”

She cocked her head to the side like a lost puppy, mouthing along. Bruce only scowled in return.

“Ah fuck!” She was beside herself with apologies as she fumbled with something he couldn’t quite see on the counter. He heard the softest of clicks as she tucked something behind her ears. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hear you.”

Bruce grimaced at his behavior. Alfred would have knocked him upside the head were he there. His savior had been reading his lips the whole morning. His mother had taught him some basic sign language when he was a child; what would she say were she still around.

“Sorry…”

“It’s okay.” She smiled at him so forgiving, his heart skipped a beat. “Milk?”

“No... Thanks.”

Bruce let her be after that. She resumed her humming as she worked, soft and soothing sounds with no specific melody. Comforting. She returned to his side minutes later, extending a bowl filled with warm oatmeal and various types of berries atop it. His fingers shook as he took it, the warmth bringing a comforting nostalgia to his chest.

“You don’t recognize me, do you?” Bruce asked, a slight break in his voice.

“Duh, you’re Batman.” She raised a brow with a playful smirk. She took a messy bite of her own food as she settled on the floor beside him. “Better question, do you recognize me?”

“Should I?” 

“We work together, Mr. World's-Greatest-Detective.” The woman laughed, low and sweet. 

No… He was sure he’d remember her. 

“We do?”

“Tragically,” She heaved a sigh, a playful tease. “Is there anyone I can call for you?”

“I…” Bruce winced as he moved to stand. “I can get home.”

“Yeah right,” She chuckled as she pressed him back into the pillows. “You can crash here for a while.”

Bruce sighed again, pondering the risks of his options.

“There’s a phone in my suit…”

“I’ll get it.” Evelyn walked over to the table, grabbing a paper grocery bag. She passed it over, his broken and bloodied armor neatly folded inside. He looked it over quickly before digging for his phone. She excused herself to the hallway as he held the phone to his ear. Alfred picked up after only one ring.

“Master Wayne, where have you been?”

“Long story… We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“A liability.”

Notes:

Original Publish Date: 25th of January, 2023
Edit Publication Date: 9th of November, 2023

Chapter 2: Cookies and Roses

 

Tricorner Island– February 13 th, 12:00 pm

 

Alfred promised to come as fast as he could. Bruce didn’t know where he was besides the fact he was in a rundown apartment in the Tricorner Area. With some arguments and choice words exchanged, Alfred was finally able to ping the location of the BatSuit. Bruce curled back up in the quilts, resting his eyes in the silence.

A key turned in the lock a few minutes later, forcing his eyes open. His savior slipped in, hastily locking the door behind her. She gave him an apologetic -almost guilty- look as she tossed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the table.

“Thought you’d be asleep again.”

“Almost.”

The P25 radio on the kitchen counter crackled to life, causing the woman to straighten up. A few various police codes warbled in though she didn’t seem to care for them. Instead, she grabbed the phone charging just beside it.

“This is Dr. Grubauer. Put me through to Essen.” Her voice was now sharp and instructive, a complete change from how soft and caring she had seemed before. 

That was when it clicked for Bruce.

He had seen her before. In fact, he saw her often; almost nightly. Dr. Grubauer had been brought in as a consultant for the Riddler case months earlier. The then interim Chief of the GCPD, Sarah Essen, had offered the doctor a full-time position. Alfred had done a full profile on all people employed with the GCPD, including the new Medical Examiner. Unfortunately for him, Bruce had paid little attention to it at the time. She wasn’t a liability then.

“Are you sure you really don’t need me?” Evelyn asked now, shaking her head in a mix of frustration and disbelief. “Alright. Thank you. I’ll be in tomorrow.”

She hung up with an exhausted sigh, tossing her phone back on the counter.

“Everything okay?” Bruce asked as she tossed her phone back on the counter with an exasperated sigh.

“Just a car accident.” Evelyn waved her hand in dismissal. “Nothing either of us needs to be around for.”

She settled back into her spot on the floor beside him, leaning back against the wall with a groan. She looked tired- well, more tired than normal. 

“Thank you,” Bruce piped up finally, earning a lazy grin. “For helping me last night.”

 “What else would I do?”

“Call an ambulance?”

“In this economy?” Evelyn laughed, brightly and honestly. Bruce hardly heard genuine laughter these days. Alfred wasn’t exactly the joking kind. “Please. The Batman already has so much to carry on his shoulders. He doesn’t need medical debt too.”

“You sure you’re qualified to treat the living though?” Bruce quirked his lips into a grin, something a bit foreign these days.

“I still went to med school,” She quipped. “You go to, like, a Vigilante school or something?”

“Law.”

“Not nearly as fun as Vigilante school.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Bruce chuckled.

“So, what? Are you some big-time lawyer in Gotham I don’t know about?”

“God, no.”

“Damn.” Evelyn chuckled, mindlessly brushing hair from Bruce's brow. “It’s always smart to have a good lawyer that owes you a favor or two.”

“Are you blackmailing me, Dr. Grubauer?” Bruce smirked.

“Evelyn is just fine.” she smiled a bit bigger at his recognition. Her hands moved in muscle memory; her hands in loosened fists held side by side, going up in turns. “You got a name besides Batman?”

Bruce clammed up. Evelyn was being genuinely curious. She didn’t know better. But once she found out, would she run to the tabloids? Sell her story to every person who would listen?

Silence hung in the air, stiff and cold. Evelyn frowned and bit the inside of her cheek.

“I can’t tell you.”

“That's okay.”

“And you can’t tell anyone-“

“Don’t worry,” Evelyn huffed as she stood and wandered to the kitchen again. “Your secret’s safe with me. You were never here. I never saw you.”

“You can’t tell anyone you know who I am.” Bruce wasn’t threatening, he didn’t want to. But he was worried.

“Good thing I don’t know who you are, right?” Evelyn smirked devilishly at him over her shoulder. Bruce frowned in her direction, and she rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, Bats. This whole day will be erased from my memory as soon as you leave.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

Silence overtook the apartment -if you could even call it such. A room more like. Evelyn rummaged around in her cabinets, looking for something to do with her hands. With a hum of contentment, she climbed onto the counter with practiced ease. She snatched a box of cookies from the top shelf and shook them his way with that devilish grin again. Bruce wondered how often she did that. 

“Are you… trying to bribe me?” Bruce cocked a brow, watching her expertly sit on the counter without any sense she might lose her balance.

“Why would I bribe you?” Evelyn teased, trying to look innocent. “You probably wouldn’t even like these. They're dollar store.”

“Probably not.”

“They taste good though,” she flirted before hopping off the counter and walking his way. “Wanna try?”

“No.” Bruce’s stomach betrayed him. He was used to bigger breakfasts.

“Seems like you do.” Evelyn took out a large, sugar cookie from the bag and waved it around almost comically.

“Fine.” Bruce extended his hand, and quickly she pulled it away.

“First, you have to give me something to call you besides Batman.”

“I’m not playing your game.”

“Fine then,” Evelyn smirked and tauntingly took a large bite. 

Bruce huffed and grabbed her wrist, yanking her down on top of him. Evelyn froze, mouth full of cookie crumbs and nose to nose with perhaps the most handsome man she’d met since she’d moved to Gotham. Bruce grabbed the cookie in her shock, taking a bite in victory. 

“Okay, Batman.” Evelyn swallowed, her heart just coming to. “Keep your secrets.”

“I will,” Bruce flirted. Her eyes were firmly on his, looking deeply into his eyes as if by looking deep enough she would know anything and everything about him. He could feel her pulse racing beneath his fingers. Or perhaps it was his own.

A flashing light startled him, breaking any tension hanging between them. Evelyn sighed and climbed reluctantly off his lap. She padded to the door and looked through the peephole then back to Bruce.

“Older Caucasian male, well groomed, graying hair, and closely trimmed beard?”

“That would be Alfred.”

Evelyn nodded and opened the door, ushering Alfred inside before pressing her doorbell again to stop the flashing light. She quickly swept the butler up in care instructions, informing him of every wound and concern she had. Once content with the amount of information he could repeat back, she stepped outside to let them have their privacy.

“She’s lovely,” Alfred hummed.

“She really has no clue who I am,” Bruce admitted before finding his way to his feet.

“That was rather obvious.” Alfred shook his head before handing Bruce a bag of reasonable clothes.

It wasn’t long before they were stepping out into the hall, Bruce now clad in a suit he found himself oddly proud of. Evelyn stood relaxed against the wall opposite, her eyes closed. It was only as Alfred ushered Bruce into the death trap of an elevator, did she stir.

“Careful next-time, B.”

 

---

 

Tricorner Island– February 22 nd, 2:13 am

 

Three weeks had passed since her visit from the Caped Crusader.

A rather lavish box of cookies and a vase of peach-colored roses had arrived on Evelyn’s desk the day after. There was no note attached, but she knew exactly who had sent them. Officers and colleagues teased her about her Valentine’s Day admirer. Evelyn made sure the rumors didn’t continue on much longer. 

She hadn’t had the chance to thank him. Batman hadn’t arrived at any of the crime scenes she was assigned since they last met. Then again, this last week was spent mostly in the lab and attending funerals alongside Detective James Gordon.

This morning had been a funeral like every other had been. 

Evelyn hated talking to the parents of those she worked on. She never forgot a face. She never forgot a victim. And she never forgot the sobs of a grieving mother.

How many parents had she met to inform them of their child having been taken too soon? Too many to count. Long before Gotham -even before the police force- she had been the one to listen to the sobs and screams of families grieving their loved ones. Each cry used to play in her head before bed. But recently, they all had blurred together. 

One deafening scream of loss.  

So as soon as she got home, she dissociated. Evelyn wasn’t one for social media, though she’d be lying if she said Reddit wasn’t an addiction now. A coping mechanism. So she laid in bed, looking through subreddits dedicated to Gotham and its various colorful characters. 

She’d been through the Batman subreddits with a fine-toothed comb over three times by now. None of the theories added up; not a single person suspected to be Batman looked remotely like him. There was a detective in Pennsylvania who looked vaguely like him, but ultimately she ruled him out. 

Why has she remained so fascinated?

By two in the morning, she’d barely moved. She hadn’t even changed, still mindlessly scratching at the collar of her dress. Just scrolled on her phone and huffed laughs through her nose. She’d started perusing AITA threads by then and silently judged them for herself. Everyone’s an asshole these days.

The knock at the window startled her out of her trance. It was nearly hard enough to shatter the glass. Hard enough to shake the wall.

Evelyn sat up in a panic, hands gripping the .22 under her pillow. The knock came again, quieter yet more insistent than before. She stalked closer to the window with silent, steady steps.

She tore the curtains back before aiming at the figure beyond the glass, her hands stock-still despite the anxiety coursing through her veins. She could barely make out two hands raising in surrender. 

The cape and cowl were her next sign. 

She instinctively clicked the safety on her gun, throwing the window open. Batman pulled himself inside, stumbling as he put weight on his leg. Evelyn was quick to shut the window and pull the curtains closed before any attention could be drawn to them.

“You’re back.”

“Need your help again,” his lips read as he exposed the bleeding gash on his leg. Evelyn grimaced.

“Got anything to change into? No offense, but those pants won’t give me much room to work.”

“No…”

“You can borrow my ex’s shit.” Evelyn pulled the bottom drawer of her dresser open, pulling out black shorts and the same Nirvana shirt as he had worn before. He stepped into her small bathroom with a nod; thankful she was accepting of his intrusion. 

He had to admit he had been keeping an even closer eye on her now. It wasn’t hard. She never did much out of her schedule. And still, she never seemed to leave his mind.

Evelyn’s medical supplies sprawled out on the floor table when he stepped out. She nodded to the chair beside it as she clicked her cochlear implant behind her ear. Bruce didn’t have the energy to argue. 

Evelyn worked silently, her jaw set into a grimace. Bruce recognized that look. The look she wore when faced with difficult cases. Her eyes were hardened and focused, not a single sign she was worried or nervous. A well practiced look.

It almost scared him.

“You don’t need stitches.” She spoke almost mechanically. 

He only hummed in reply. She cleaned and sterilized the wound, wrapping it as best she could given the lack of proper supplies left in her kit. It was scarce, but just enough.

“There,” Evelyn sighed, relaxing back on her heels. “Now sit tight. You need to elevate it a bit. I’ll make coffee while you wait.”

Bruce nodded and watched her go, the white lace of her dress now tarnished with his blood. He mentally kicked himself for coming to her for something so minuscule. He could have done this himself.

But if that were so, why was he here? 

He ran a hand through his hair in some desperate attempt to look some semblance of descent. He hoped he didn’t look nearly as grimey or greasy as he felt. If his goal was to impress her, he hadn't exactly thought it through.

“Thank you for the flowers,” Evelyn finally piped up, her back still turned to him. “The cookies were so fancy, I was almost too scared to eat them. But they were good. I think the lemon ones were my favorite.”

“Mine too…”

He’d been debating if he should see her again. If it could be a danger to either of them. But seeing her like this made his worries melt away. The feeling she left in his chest was worth all of it. 

Evelyn tossed a look over her shoulder. She studied him, making sure his breathing wasn’t ragged and he hadn’t begun doubling over in pain. He didn’t seem to be poisoned

“What?” Bruce froze under her gaze, watching her as intently as she watched him.

“I forgot how handsome you were,” Evelyn flirted with a fox-like grin before turning back to the coffee maker. She came to his side, settling a mug of coffee in his hands. She pulled the other chair to sit beside him and pulled his now tended-for leg onto her lap.

“That’ll be six-thousand dollars,” she quipped.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Nope. I don’t take insurance.” Evelyn grinned innocently. “But, I hear if you flirt with the doctor, you could get a free pass.”

“Oh really?” Bruce chuckled. “I might just have to do that.”

“I would,” Evelyn mused as she relaxed back, looking at him through her lashes.

“So, why the dress?”

“Had to dress up for you.”

“Who’s supposed to be flirting with who here?” Bruce smirked and looked her over. It wasn’t the nicest dress; something she had probably picked up at a discount shop. It suited her fine -not great but fine enough.

“I had a funeral actually,” Evelyn hummed, her eyes now downcast. “He was fifteen… Overdosed on drops outside The Iceberg Lounge. I don’t think it was murder but... Gordon’s pretty insistent.”

“He thinks someone used drops as a murder weapon?” Bruce’s brow furrowed. Only when Evelyn nodded her head, could he see the tears beginning to well. “Do you have a suspect?”

“Fucking Oz,” Evelyn hissed. “It’s always fucking Oz. We just can’t pin shit on him. The absolute fucking absurdity he gets away with in this town, and we’re just supposed to sit down and accept it? Gordon thinks it was this Smile guy or whatever, but I dunno about that.”

Bruce had never seen her this upset and angered. But, he could relate. Her last comment was what caught his attention most.

“Smile guy?”

“It’s just what Gordon calls him,” Evelyn grumbled. She had been trying to blink back tears to no avail, but her voice was steady. “There are young men -children practically- that we keep finding in or around the rivers and canals. Every one of them overdosed on drops. 

"Gordon has found the same graffiti within fifty yards of the body. But they’re just… smiley faces. The most common thing people draw when they find a can of spray paint...”

“But Gordon thinks it’s possible.”

“Insistent on it…”

“It might be something worth looking into.” Bruce couldn’t understand why Gordon had never mentioned this.

“Maybe…” Evelyn lolled her head back. The way she looked sad and yet peaceful at the same time made Bruce’s heart jump into his throat. Her dark hair falling from its updo, her skin glistening with a fine layer of sweat. Large doe eyes now devoid of any makeup, soft and weary. 

He could tell now just how dark her under eyes had become, exhaustion weighing her down. Save for the smudge of his blood on her cheek, she was perhaps the most beautiful woman Bruce had ever known. Or perhaps his mind was disillusioned.

“I should let you sleep.” Bruce moved to stand but Evelyn tightened her grip on his leg.

“Stay. You need the rest.”

“But-“

“You’re not a bother.” She flicked her eyes over to him and tried a weak smile. “You’re a comfort. You can come and go as you please for all I care. Just… stay for a bit longer with me.”

“Evelyn…”

She looked so small and helpless then. Vulnerable. Bruce’s heart could have broken for her then.

“I’m serious, Batman. Just pay for the medical supplies and I’ll keep patching you up.”

“You’re sure?”

“It’s a good deal for both of us.”

“How so?” Bruce raised a brow as he watched her eyes glide closed.

“You don’t have to go to a hospital, risking your super secret identity. And I get to see you more often.”

“I suppose that’s… a fair enough deal…” 

Bruce sat back, letting her fall asleep. He sipped his coffee and mulled over everything he’d learned that night. The ‘Smile guy’ as Gordon had supposedly dubbed him, was something he would be taking an interest in one way or another.

If Bruce learned anything that night, the most important thing was that Evelyn would be the death of him.

One way or another.

Notes:

Publication Date: 25th of January, 2023
Edited: 9th of November, 2023

Chapter 3: Guess WHO

Old Gotham– November 1^st, 1:13 am

 

Halloween was the worst day of the year.

The year before had been the murder of the mayor, leading up to the flood that came after. Evelyn had spent most of that day in a Midway hospital, recovering from surgery and watching the news. The years before, Bruce hadn’t had the time to catch his breath between stopping gang initiations and preventing rapes. Evelyn couldn't remember if she even celebrated those years. 

As soon as the Bat Signal shone against the inky black clouds, the evil of Gotham began to shake in their boots. Bruce felt a lump form in his throat. He prayed it wasn’t the Riddler again. He had checked that morning; Edward Nashton was still in Arkham where he belonged.

But you never knew in Gotham.

Evelyn was on the corner of Rose and Rogers before Gordon or Batman even arrived. The bright blue tarp was the first thing to catch Bruce’s eye; a vaguely human shape underneath. Then he saw Evelyn, who looked just as grim as she did at every crime scene. But when their eyes met, he swore her shoulders relaxed, and the corners of her mouth twitched upward. She dawned her usual GCPD windbreaker, the words ‘CORONER’ in bold, reflective lettering along the back. She quickly went back to taking photos of the area, trying to capture all the evidence she could before it was washed away into the gutters. Her assistant scrambled to keep up with her, holding a large umbrella to save them both from the downpour.

Gordon strode over toward the two, ducking under the umbrella himself. Evelyn passed him something quickly and discreetly as she could. Bruce knew by now it was a microphone; she couldn’t hear well with the rain. Gordon clipped the microphone to his lapel calmly and took in the scene.

“What we got, Morticia?”

“That nickname never gets old.” Evelyn rolled her eyes before she passed the camera to her assistant and stepped into the rain. She lifted the tarp enough for the two men to see the body underneath. It was a young woman -barely in her twenties- severed completely in half. The two pieces were laid a foot apart as if to show off the killer's workmanship. 

“Caucasian Female, early twenties. Bisection at the waist between the L2 and L3 vertebrae,” Evelyn called out as she pointed along with her observations. “Pieces are cut away; a majority of them are from the breast and pubic area. That, alongside the fact we can’t find her clothing, means we’re pursuing the possibility of a sexual assault.”

“Not the Smiler,” Gordon grumbled disappointedly, if only to himself.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Evelyn flicked her eyes to Bruce as she moved to the head of the body, pulling the tarp up to show him the bone-chilling detail she’d hated to have discovered. “Her face is cut, extending from the edges of her lips to her ears. It’s what is called a Chelsea Smile or a Glasgow Grin.”

“I stand corrected.” Gordon was one who often humbled himself.

“As do I,” Evelyn sighed, re-covering the body, and hurrying back to her assistant's side. She flipped through her camera until she came to the first thing she had seen when she arrived at the scene. “The graffiti was here when I arrived. Rain’s washed it away now so it must have been recent.”

“How recent?” Bruce asked. She hadn’t moved -hadn’t heard him- so he stalked closer. “Evelyn, how recent?”

“I put the time of placement at approximately eleven pm to midnight.” Evelyn looked at him over her shoulder and moved to show him her camera screen. The sidewalk had been painted, large black circles for eyes and a cherry red grin. Even despite how early she was to the crime scene, the paint was running into itself making a murky maroon trail down the sidewalk.

“Have you moved her any?”

“None, sir.” Evelyn broke away too soon, eager to get more photos before the rain ruined everything. Her assistant followed, pulling up the tarp so Evelyn could get a few pictures of the grin carved on the victim's face. But after the flash, Evelyn and her assistant froze. They shared a glance. Evelyn crouched down, getting a few photos of the scalp before passing the camera off to her assistant. She lifted the victim's head ever so slightly, pulling out something Bruce couldn’t see.

“Wes, I need evidence bags,” Evelyn barked. She covered the victim and came back to Gordon’s side, pulling the item out from the inside of her jacket. Bruce’s heart dropped when he saw what it was.

A sickly orange envelope.

“It’s written to you,” Evelyn side-eyed the caped crusader. He nodded, watching her gloved hands rip the top seam and pull out a cheesy Halloween card. Two owls adorned the front along with writing in a curly font.

“Guess WHO’S thinking of you on Halloween?” Evelyn read the title aloud before opening the card. “Me, that’s WHO. I can be cracked; I can be made. I can be told. I can be played. What am I?”

The same type of letters as the cipher was listed at the bottom. Two lines, both five symbols. Bruce’s blood chilled. The writing was different than last year. This was much neater and much simpler than last year’s card.

“Nashton should be in Arkham,” Gordon said, his eyes on Batman now.

“He was this morning,” Bruce admitted. "I checked."

“I’ll have some guys go check.”

“I’ll go.” Bruce flicked his eyes to the card, just enough time for his contact to record a clear shot.

“You’re a joke…” Evelyn muttered.

“What?” Bruce sneered,  a raised brow and scowl to match.

“The riddle answer,” Evelyn snapped her eyes up to him. “It’s ‘You’re a joke’.”

“They teach riddles at boot camp?” Gordon chuckled, trying to break the tension.

“No,” Evelyn scoffed, tucking the card and envelope in the evidence bag, and passing it to her assistant. “They teach you riddles when you’re in your doctorate program. Duh.”

 

 

Gotham City Police Department–  November 1^st, 6:45 am

 

The sun had barely grazed the smog-filled sky when Detective Gordon stepped into the morgue. Evelyn’s assistant, Wesley, just about shit himself when Batman walked in behind the detective. Evelyn just looked up from her work with a slight grin.

“Since when do you visit lab rats?” Evelyn mused, pulling a cloth over the body for decency's sake.

“Since we have a possible serial killer on our hands,” Gordon admitted. He was trying his hardest to look anywhere but the human shape beneath the sheet.

“Well lucky for you two, we got a hit on the ID.” Evelyn went to her desk to grab a file, extending it to Bruce rather than her boss. “Sarah Schwartz. Nineteen, went missing last week from 44 Below. Dentals confirmed identity.”

“She’s a big Instagram model,” Wesley admitted sheepishly. “I follow her. She’s huge- was huge...”

Bruce frowned and looked at the file. He remembered Sarah, sadly all too well. Since Mayor Real was elected, Bruce tried to attend more functions and be more public. It was for the business rather than for him -though sometimes free food never hurt even if you were rich. Sarah had talked to him at every event he attended. Her hand would rest on his thigh, and she’d laugh at everything he said, even if it wasn’t funny. She was flirting. But Bruce knew it was only for the money. She made that abundantly clear when after he denied a date, she made her way to the next richest man in town.

Evelyn flirted like that with him too. Though she never made him feel sick to his stomach. 

“Also…” Evelyn sat back in her desk chair, leaning back. “Mr. Clarke, would you like to show your findings?”

“Sure!” Wesley excitedly jumped into action, snatching an evidence bag and passing it to Gordon. “While Dr. Grubauer was running the toxicology report, I got the dental molds. This was shoved inside her mouth.”

Gordon squinted to see the dried, deep maroon mass. Evelyn looked at Bruce, almost as if scrutinizing him under the fluorescent lab lights. He tried to avoid her gaze, looking instead at the lump in the evidence bag.

“It’s a flower,” Gordon said, all confidence leaving his tone.

“A Black Dahlia?” Bruce asked, eyes back to Evelyn. 

“Very good, Batman.” Evelyn praised him with a hint of sarcasm in her tone. “I retrieved the autopsy and crime scene photos for the Black Dahlia murder and compared them to our very own. Every single cut, every single laceration, every single bruise is the same.”

“So it’s a copy,” Bruce muttered.

“An exact replica.” Evelyn sighed as she stood, stretching to pop her back. Her scrubs rode up a bit as she did, and Bruce tore his eyes away. Evelyn had to hide her laughter. “We’re waiting for toxicology reports at the moment. We’re working on finding particulates now as well.”

“Thank you, Dr. Grubauer,” Gordon said with a nod, “Mr. Clarke. Go home for the night.”

“Must we?” Evelyn joked, a hum on her lips as she went back to her work. The sheet was removed and Gordan snapped his gaze to the stain on the ceiling tiles.

“Yes, Dr. Grubauer. You don’t live here, as much as you think you do.”

"But we haven't collected any particulates from her L2 or L3 yet," she pouted almost comically, despite her hands now busy with the task at hand.

"Fine," Gordon sighed like a weary father would with a persistent child. "Do that. But if you don't leave in the hour, I'll have Captain Essen drag you out of here herself."

"Can't we just call her commissioner already?"

"Not until the ceremony."

"And you'll be captain next if I hear correctly," Evelyn smirked as she looked to Gordon, earning a sneaking smile from Wesley.

"Where did you hear that?" Detective Gordon looked at Batman with a raised brow.

"Trusted sources," Evelyn joked. She stole a look at Batman before straightening up to address Bruce specifically. "We'll reach out as soon as we know more. You should go before shift change."

Bruce nodded before turning with a flare of his cape. He could barely hear Wesley tease the doctor before the door closed.

"Why do you always flirt with the Bat?"

"Why do you flirt with Miss. Kringle?"

"Touche." 

 

 

Tricorner Island– November 2^nd, 3:13 am

 

Bruce slid through the window to Evelyn's apartment just as he had almost every night for 8 months. The brief few minutes of downtime he spent with her every day felt like time stood still. He wasn’t Batman, the vigilante. Not even Bruce Wayne, the billionaire with the weight of expectations on his shoulders. He was just… him. Evelyn perked up from her spot at the table, eyes wide and welcoming. She sipped her tea, setting the cup beside a mess of pencils and pens. 

“Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Bruce signed as he spoke, closing the curtains tightly behind him. Evelyn smiled softly and found her way to her feet. The way her eyes grazed over him caused the hair on the back of his neck to bristle, though he always assumed it was because she was checking for wounds he may be hiding.

"Oh, Bats..." she whispered, using her thumb to brush away dried droplets of blood from his lower lip; the remnants from a fight much earlier in the night. He leaned into her touch nonetheless, letting his eyes flutter closed in his exhaustion. "Have you even slept?"

"Yes," Bruce lied. He'd been awake since Halloween, unable to sleep with all the thoughts running through his head.

"Mhm," Evelyn hummed with an air of disbelief. She lifted the cowl slowly from his head, taking in the dark rings of kohl around his eyes. It hid his exhaustion well. But she could always tell. "Sit."

Bruce didn't argue, not that he ever did. Evelyn bustled around the kitchenette, sliding around in her fuzzy, puppy-themed socks. She settled beside him after some time, setting a mug on the table in front of him. Bruce smiled at the gesture, fully aware of Evelyn's gaze as he took a sip. Microwave tea never tasted so good.

"Finish that and I'll take you home for the night," Evelyn softly said, brushing stray strands of hair from his face. "You need sleep."

"I can get home myself," Bruce mumbled.

"Yes, but I don't trust you to sleep." 

"Eva..."

"Either I take you home or you'll stay here." Evelyn went back to the mess of papers on the table, flipping through them periodically as if only looking for something to do. "Your choice, Bats. I know you haven't slept since Halloween either. And if either of us needs the rest, it's you."

"I'm not letting you drive me home," Bruce said, more threatening than he intended. "You can hardly afford gas to get to and from work."

"Then you stay." 

"Evelyn."

"I'm serious, Bats."

"I can't put you in danger." 

"I'm in danger anyways." She wasn't even looking at him at this point. Just scribbling down notes with a chokehold on the pen. "Do you know what fatigue can do to the human body? Slow reflexes, impaired hand-eye-coordination, hallucinations-"

"Why do you even care?" The words were out of his mouth before he could even think them through. Evelyn's gaze snapped back to his, and he immediately regretted his choice of words. Her eyes had become glassy as she searched his face. 

"Because I saw it happen to guys," She huffed, shaking her head as if in frustration. "In BootCamp, they told us that those who insisted they didn't need to sleep weren't to be celebrated. It's not a sign of toughness or resilience. It's just stupid. If you can sleep, you need to."

"I can't..." Bruce admitted. He watched her shoulders relax and her head loll back, her own exhaustion weighing her down.

"I can help." Evelyn shuffled her papers into a pile for later. She stretched as she stood, padding the few steps to her dresser. "Is it because of Halloween or something else?"

"Halloween..."

"Tell me why."

"Why?" Bruce's nose scrunched up in thought. "I suppose because of what happened last year... with the Riddler"

"Nashton," Evelyn huffed in exasperation. "Why do we make such silly nicknames for the criminals in this town? Riddler, Penguin, Smiler. It's just glorifying them to the people of Gotham."

"You think they're silly?" Bruce chuckled.

"Please," Evelyn tossed a playful look over her shoulder, dramatically rolling her eyes. "It's like how we call Richard Ramirez 'The Night Stalker' or Rodney Alcala 'The Dating Game Killer'. Those names try to make light of the situation. They end up erasing the names of the victims."

"I can see why you got into forensics." 

"Have to love what you do," Evelyn said as she tossed Bruce the clothes she usually reserved for his impromptu surgeries and quick fixes. "I'm going to step out for a smoke. Don't you dare sneak out the window before I get back."

"Yes, Ma'am," Bruce playfully responded. "You shouldn't smoke, you know."

"What else am I going to do?" Evelyn joked as she hurried to the door. "Watch you change? At least let me take you to dinner first."

"When?"

Evelyn froze with her hand on the door handle. The look back with panicked eyes almost made Bruce's heart leap out of his chest.

"I need a name before I agree on a date," She playfully stated, playing off the surprise. 

"Bruce."

"Bruce..." she hummed, letting his name hang on her lips. "I like it."

Chapter 4

Tricorner Island– November 2^nd, 3:24 am

Evelyn slipped back into her apartment, the smell of spice and vanilla stuck in her hair. Bruce perked up at the clunk of the lighter and crumpled pack of clove cigarettes hitting the table. She raised a brow at him, letting a smirk grow into a beaming grin.

He looked as if he were perfectly in place, dressed so comfortably, standing at the sink and elbow-deep in iridescent bubbles. Dark kohl was still smudged around his lashes no matter how hard he had tried to remove it. He looked at the dishes in confusion, almost as if he’d never pondered the concept before. Even in his state of confusion, the effort was comforting.

“Are you trying to do my dishes, Bats?” Evelyn chuckled as she came to his side, hand gently resting on his bicep.

“Bruce,” he corrected. “Yes.”

“With hand soap?”

“Hand soap?” Bruce looked down at the overly slippery mugs in his hands. “How do you know the difference?”

“Well my dish soap is blue,” Evelyn giggled, sitting on the counter beside the sink. She lifted a large bottle of blue soap, pointing to the large letters on the label. “Also, the bottle says so.”

“But it’s just… soap.” Bruce frowned at her delight. But that smile of hers was enough to make his lips tug into a small grin. She seemed like the only one who could do that to him.

“You’re not wrong.”

Bruce set the dishes aside, wiping his hands dry on his shirt. Evelyn hummed, reaching for his face ever so gently. Her thumb brushed the small break in his lip, the cut barely beginning to heal. He recoiled at her touch, something he craved so often yet found himself so often without.

“I’m so sorry…” Evelyn yanked her hand back as if she had been burned by the simple touch. The guilt in her eyes immediately made his heart wrench in place. Bruce opened his mouth, an apology on his lips.

But the words never came. Instead, he took her hand, returning it gently to his jaw. Her hand stiffened in his, only relaxing as his once-piercing eyes softened. He watched her now with a look of calm, his walls falling down ever so slowly for her. Then he closed his eyes and relaxed into her embrace.

She had craved his touch many times before, even dreamt of it some nights. But now in such a domestic setting… she knew she never wanted to hold anyone else.

“You should sleep…” Evelyn whispered finally, her thumb rubbing gentle circles on his cheekbone. Bruce hummed in agreement, though he never made a move.

The wall shook behind her, the kitchen cabinets clanging open at the force. Evelyn hissed in pain, a hand to the back of her head. But the sudden whack to the head was the least of her worries.

“Eva!” Bruce’s hands found their way to the back of her head, fingers lacing in her hair.

“The walls are thin…” she admitted through a wavering voice.

“I can tell.”

A blood-curdling scream was next. Then another shake of the wall, the cabinets banging again. Evelyn jumped to her feet, quick to find her purse only feet away. The 9mm handgun sat in her hand comfortably, the safety quickly clicked off. A flashlight held tightly in the other hand; she cracked her door open.

The cackle from next door set her skin ablaze in a way she hadn’t expected.

Bruce was beside her as soon as she entered the hall. Her arms crossed, both handgun and flashlight aimed toward the crack in the doorway to the Matos’s apartment. Other doors in the apartment building locked and deadbolted as another scream rang out into the hall. Evelyn held her breath, stepping in front of the doorway with sure and quiet steps.

“Freeze!” Evelyn barked and pushed the door open, all confidence draining at the sight beyond. Bruce only barely caught the gasp escaping her throat, the way her eyes widened in shock.

A person stared at them from the doorway, looming in the darkness. The only thing either could see was the reflection of Evelyn’s flashlight bouncing off the blank, white mask. Even where their eyes should have been, only black pools of nothingness existed. The being chuckled lowly at them.

Then they bound for the doorway.

Evelyn shot, the bullet colliding with the assailant’s shoulder. But they kept bounding toward her, undeterred. Their shoulder collided with Evelyn's chest before she could duck out of the way. She flew back, slumping back against the wall behind her with a crack forming in the drywall.

Bruce jumped into action, grappling the assailant before another move could be made toward the woman now passed out on the floor. The being cackled, each swing only making them laugh harder. Bruce was unphased until a little voice called out from the apartment.

“Eva?”

A young boy was leaning out from his hiding spot in the kitchen cabinets, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. Just as Bruce looked at the child, a ringing resounded in his ears. The assailant’s fist had connected with Bruce’s ear, the hit harder than expected. Bruce had only briefly let go of the attacker, but that was all that was needed.

The assailant slipped from his grip, barreling back into the Matos’s apartment. Bruce gave chase and followed the man passed the child, and out the window. The assailant ducked through the bars and stairs of the fire escape, gracefully as if a phantom floating through them.

Bruce wanted to follow; to jump into action and chase the man. But the groan from behind and the sobbing child drew him back inside. Evelyn lay in the hall, her head in her hands. The child curled by her side, shaking her.

In the bed beside the window, a large man lay prone in nothing more than bloody boxers. The way he laid so perfectly still Bruce knew he’d already gone. There was a sharp upturn of Mr. Matos’s lips, cut into a permanent smile. Bruce’s heart sank at the sight.

“Eva,” the little boy stifled a sob as he clamored to the hallway and fell to his knees beside Eva. “I hid. Just like we practiced…”

“I’m proud of you, Tiago,” Evelyn forced a smile despite the pain resounding through her head. She reached up, brushing a lone curl back from his forehead. “You called Sarah, pois não?”

“Pois não.” Tiago smiled at her with a sniff.

Evelyn looked just beyond her friend, catching Bruce’s eye, but he didn't move. She struggled to sit, her back against the damaged wall. She pulled Tiago to her chest, resting her chin atop his head as he began to sob.

“It'll be okay, Tio…” Evelyn whispered into his hair. She looked to Bruce again, who had come to crouch beside her. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I’m not leaving,” Bruce assured, brushing her hair from her face. She shuddered in pain as his fingers grazed the back of her skull, and Bruce sighed. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple as tears pricked her eyes.

Bootsteps clamored down the hall as the GCPD arrived, their guns were drawn. A woman led them, tall and determined in her stride. She froze at the sight of Evelyn and Tiago, Bruce at their side. Her confusion was evident, eyes flitting between the three.

“She needs medical attention,” Bruce simply said with a pleading look. The woman nodded, whispering into a radio clipped to her lapel.

“I’m fine, Essen,” Evelyn croaked as her head lolled back. “Miguel needs attention more than I do.”

“You don’t get to be stubborn,” the woman shook her head. “Not this time, Eva.”

“I don’t need a bill just for a doctor to tell me what I already know,” Evelyn hissed. “I have a concussion and bruising along my back and sternum. Nothing is broken. Just give me my gun and-“

“Eva.” Bruce was soft as he placed a hand on her arm, though his voice stern. Evelyn relaxed back at something so simple as his touch, a whimper escaping her lips. “You need to get seen.”

“...Fine…”

Paramedics were by her side in a matter of minutes. Tiago reluctantly untangled himself from Evelyn, finding himself in the care of a social worker with a kind face and warm smile. Sarah stood beside Bruce, both watching Evelyn with concerned looks.

“Did you want to go with her, Mr. Wayne?” Sarah asked with a side-eyed glance.

“Please,” Bruce answered with a waver in his voice.

“Go on then. I’ll question you at the hospital.”

 

---

 

The ride to Gotham General hadn’t been a long one. At least Evelyn didn’t think it had been, her consciousness teetering over the edge. She didn’t know when she had passed out, hadn’t felt it. But she awoke in a hospital room bathed in a cool, low light.

Bruce sat beside her, dozing in his seat. He had changed, no longer in the pajamas she had given him. Now he was clad in an all-black suit, sunglasses sliding down his face. Evelyn had woken so calmly, but upon seeing him, she couldn’t deny how the heart monitor picked up its pace.

It had become a secret of hers, falling ever so slowly for the Bat. It had been a secret for her too for a few months. The sudden urge to kiss him had overcome her one night and she knew she was screwed. She debated pulling away from him; perhaps locking her window, and never opening it for him again.

She was scared to love him. She knew he wouldn’t feel the same; he wouldn’t love her back with the same intensity she felt for him. But the next few days he had shown up looking like a lost puppy at her doorstep and she couldn’t refuse him entry or care.

So she had resigned to silence. Being in love from a distance. Letting her heartache at the thought of him. Being as close as she could without harming whatever it was they had.

But he was here, wasn’t he?

She lay in silence but a moment more before light flooded the room. A nurse hurried in, coming to Evelyn’s side and speaking hurriedly. Evelyn couldn’t understand a thing, finding the nurse’s lips far too hard to read. Then a tap on her wrist.

Bruce sat closer now, just at her side. His glasses were now righted on the ridge of his nose, his face almost perfectly still in a look of disinterest. Then he signed, translating the nurse’s words almost perfectly. But Evelyn didn’t take in a single thing.

Instead, tears pricked her eyes and she smiled weakly. Bruce stuttered at the sight, his hands starting to shake. Evelyn desperately wanted to reach out to him but found herself unable to even move under his gaze.

“Are you alright?” Bruce asked, signing along with his words.

“Yes,” Evelyn whispered with a sniff. “I didn’t know you knew how to sign.”

“I learned,” he admitted with a sheepish grin. One that was gone as soon as someone else came through the door.

Evelyn was quickly bundled into hugs, her head squeezed against an older, midwestern woman’s chest. She knew the words vibrating from the woman’s chest were meant to be filled with love and tender care. But from Bruce’s look of stunned confusion, Evelyn knew whatever she was speaking was beyond his level of understanding. Her accent had once been just as thick. 

“I missed you too,” Evelyn sighed. She gathered the strength to wrap her arms around the woman, a weak squeeze of a hug.

The woman pulled back, speaking in fast and stuttered sign language. Saying how she missed Evelyn and wished she were home more often. Some signs were too fast to catch, but she didn’t care. Much like Bruce, her family had learned how to sign on her behalf.

A sign of love, she assumed.

“Bruce,” Evelyn turned to the man sitting beside her, fully aware of how strange she would be speaking without hearing herself. “This is my mother, Gina.”

“Oh-“ Bruce stood abruptly to shake her hand, only to be yanked into a similarly crushing hug. He broke away a bit stunned when she let him go, obviously not used to dealing with midwestern families like the Grubauer’s.

“Damn it, Gina,” a man chuckled from where he stood at the foot of the hospital bed. “Let the man breathe.”

Evelyn stiffened, moving to sit as straight as possible and producing a whine. The man waved her away dismissively, though his eyes still held a level of worry. He looked far older than his age, the stress of life having reached him far too early.

“At ease, kiddo.”

“Just a sign of respect,” Evelyn huffed as she flopped back onto the pillows with an informal salute.

“Will you ever stop acting like a marine?” the man chuckled, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his oversized, jean jacket.

“I only stopped eating crayons a few years ago, you can't ask for much more than that.” Evelyn chuckled as she lolled her head to the side to see Bruce who was once again painted with confusion. “This is my dad, Sergeant Major Clayton Grubauer.”

“Clay’s fine,” Clayton said with a stiff hand extension. Bruce shook his hand firmly and furrowed his brow as he looked between the couple and Evelyn.

Their pale and plump features resembled nothing of her high cheekbones and deeper skin tone; Their light blonde and greying hair was nothing like the deep brown her hair had always been. Even her eyes, the color of pitch and honey all the same. Theirs was much more like his own, light blues and greys.

“It’s nice to meet you both.” Bruce wasn’t used to meeting people quite like them. He wasn’t sure he ever met people like them.

“Lovely to meet you as well, dear.” Gina was practically bouncing on her heels in excitement as she looked between Evelyn and the handsome man sitting beside her. Evelyn knew that look. “How did you and our little Lyn meet?”

Evelyn looked at Bruce with a bit of panic. What could she say? “Oh, just found him in the dumpster when he was dressed up as a bat.” Like they would believe that. She couldn’t out him like that anyways.

“Online,” Bruce lied cooly.

“Billionaires use dating apps?” Clayton jested, though he eyed Bruce with suspicion. Evelyn tried to hide her shock, worried the heart monitor would give her away yet again.

“You’d be surprised. Raya has a lot of different kinds of people on there,” Bruce nodded firmly as he spoke, ending the conversation then and there despite the questions he was sure the Grubauers had.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Gina tried a puppy dog look on her daughter, which hardly ever failed.

“I don’t tell you every man I go on a date with,” Evelyn sighed. “I meant no harm.”

“Besides, the reporters here in Gotham are ruthless,” Bruce added. “I didn’t want her in the line of fire.”

“I see…” Clayton eyed Bruce, trying to read anything behind his expressionless face.

“Where’s Miguel?” Evelyn wondered aloud. “Just down the hall?”

Bruce stiffened, stoicism failing him. He took Evelyn’s hand gently, his lips turning into a tight frown. He hadn’t needed to say anything for her to understand. Evelyn sat up, tugging at the IV in her arm. Clayton was quick to grab her wrists, holding her firmly back into the bed despite her struggle. She whined in protest, the words spoken around her lost on deaf ears.

“I need to talk to Sarah!”

“Easy kid,” Clayton attempted to soothe. “You need to stay put.”

“No- They’re going to put him in the system!” Evelyn cried out as panic overcame her. “Tiago can’t go into foster care!”

“You were in the system too!” her father attempted to calm her but she was quick to cut him off.

“And look how well that turned out! It took me sixteen years to find a family who wanted me! I was just a kid off the rez, what are they going to do to a Brazilian kid who can’t speak English?”

“Just because-!”

“Dad let go!”

“Lyn you need to listen-!”

“Stop!”

The next few seconds became a blur. Evelyn hardly understood what happened to cause Bruce to pin her father’s arm between his shoulder blades. She couldn’t catch the words exchanged as he led her father out of the room. The stinging on her cheek had only been a clue.

Gina was crying silently beside her, hand over her quivering lips. Evelyn squeezed her eyes tight, begging her brain to catch up to events that had just transpired. Her mother's hands engulfed hers, begging Evelyn to look at her.

When she did, both their eyes were filled with tears. They both knew it could easily be excused as a reflex. Something they would easily forgive as they had before. Gina’s lips flickered into a grin despite the tears. Evelyn read her lips and smiled too at the words her mother spoke, hopeful herself it was true.

“You got a good one.”

Notes:

Sorry, it's been so long! I've been moving homes and it's taken forever to get my laptop out to write. Hope y'all enjoy!

Chapter 5

Notes:

I am so sorry this is shorter than my other chapters. I am almost done with the next chapter which will be much longer, I just didn't have a good place to cut it off.

Gotham City Police Department–  November 10^th, 12:34 pm

 

Evelyn knew far too little about the young man whose face she was trying to recreate. His remains had been found in the Miagani Channel, not far from the Fairgrounds where a fall festival was taking place. A group of employees from the festival were goofing around when they saw the suitcase washed on shore.

They had opened it, hoping to find some loot or drugs on their way to the Mafia. Instead, they discovered a plastic trash bag that come open just enough to expose the foul-smelling remains. Disgusted, they dumped the suitcase beneath a nearby bridge. One of the teens had a guilty conscience and had come to the GCPD with the news.

All that was found was a torso, though the police had begun sweeps of the area as soon as the boy's story rang true. Most body parts were found along the shores of Gotham the same night; seven more suitcases with seven more bags of remains. The young man was systematically butchered--- his shoulders, hips, knees, ankles, and wrists almost surgically cut apart; his legs fully deboned.

The head was sent to the GCPD two days after the press release, and the face completely flayed from the bone. Gordon had vomited as soon as he opened the box that had been left on his desk. The plastic bags the remains had preserved the remains well; the steps taken to hide his identity had instead aided in the investigations.

The remains held a story to be told if only Evelyn knew how to read it.

Her first task since being released from the hospital had been trying to recreate his face so a sketch artist could send out a rendering of the victim. Evelyn hoped someone recognized him; came to claim him. He was young… a child practically. Where was his mother?

She had already spent an inordinate amount of time on the victim's eyes and had now moved to the rest of his face. She ran her fingers over his smooth, cold cheeks and tried to think of what to name him in her notes. John Doe didn’t seem to have a ring to it. Perhaps… Jason.

She pressed her thumbs along the soft fold beneath his pouty lips, reshaping his frown into a smile. She paused as she realized what she had done, edging his lips now into a neutral look. How dare she make him smile when she didn’t know the pain he’d gone through.

“Gru!” Gordan called as he barged into the lab. Evelyn quickly covered the body to save the trashcan from the unfortunate fate of being vomited into again.

“Good to see you too.” She matched his rough tone with a playful look in her eyes.

“Someone’s here to see you,” Gordon grunted, and Evelyn could see the tension being held between his shoulders. He was stressed, the thought of becoming a captain in only a week was getting to him.

Bruce stepped in just behind Gordon, looking terribly out of place in the stark white lab. Evelyn’s heart paused, a goofy grin growing on her face. Bruce offered a tight-lipped grin before sheepishly raising the lunch bag Alfred had packed for her.

“Why don’t you go to lunch, Wes,” Evelyn said with a smile toward her assistant as she shed her gloves. Wesley nodded with tired eyes and left with his laptop bag slung over his shoulder. He was so tired, his dissertation taking up most of his time now.

“Hey…” Bruce smiled a bit brighter as he stepped into Evelyn’s office. “I guessed you wouldn’t want to go out anywhere today.”

“You guessed right,” Evelyn said as she shut the door behind them both. Then she hurried to her computer, pulling up the files she had pulled up for him. That was the whole reason he had brought her lunch in the first place, though Evelyn wanted to pretend for just a moment he truly had come to see her.

The Smiler case files were kept under lock and key; not even Batman was allowed to access them. But Evelyn was. She made most of them. She had been so quick to offer Bruce access to the files; so desperate to see a smile on his face.

“No sign of them,” Bruce had said in her apartment the night before. Evelyn was giving him the regular once-over when he told her. “I don’t think the Smiler will return for a while.”

“I shot him, didn’t I?” Evelyn had tried to joke as she looked up at him with his messy hair and daunting gaze. Oh, how she wanted to get lost in it.

“I need to put together everything that we know about him,” Bruce stated with an air of urgency in his tone. “We’re missing something. I just don’t know what yet.”

“Come by tomorrow,” Evelyn blurted. “I have access to all the Smiler files on my work computer.”

 

So that’s where they spent their hour; sitting side by side, barely speaking a word to each other the whole time. Bruce was rapidly typing and clicking through the files, reading as quickly as he could. His leg bounced in time with his heart, the chair creaking beneath him when his heart raced faster.

But Evelyn sat back, enjoying the little moments despite the speed Bruce was moving. The way warmth emanated from him was intoxicating. The way his arm brushed against hers made her skin light afire. The way his tongue flicked out to wet his lips when he grew too anxious.

“What is mtDNA?” he asked, finally breaking their silence. His eyes flitted between her and the victim's photo stuck in the corner of the screen. That on its own made his skin crawl; being stared down by someone he didn’t even know he’d failed to save.

“Mitochondrial DNA,” Evelyn answered, eyes desperately pleading he hold her gaze. “Passed from the mother to the child. I used it to identify Mr. Franklin because we didn’t have prints and odontology came back with nothing.”

“Odontology,” Bruce mumbled. “That’s the… the uh…”

“Dental matching,” Evelyn hummed. She cradled her cup of coffee to her chest, watching as her companion began rapidly clicking through the crime scene photos. Then Evelyn reached out, placing a warm hand over his. “Have you ever played in the snow, Bruce?”

Bruce snapped his head toward her, eyes scouring every inch of her face for a hint of what she meant. She only smiled softly at him, offering him a moment of vulnerability. Bruce pondered, letting his gaze drift to their hands. He watched how her fingers so delicately danced on his skin, rubbing soothing shapes across his knuckles.

“…I can’t say I have.”

“I thought snow was a myth once.” Evelyn watched his shoulders relax when he finally turned to her, her gentle gaze drawing him in. “I was born in New Mexico, and almost every foster home I stayed in was in the South. Texas, Arizona, Alabama; everywhere hot as hell. But then I went to Midway with the Grubauer’s.

“It snowed my first week there and I was enthralled. I had never seen anything like it and all I wanted to do was touch it. Gina told me to grab my coat, and I rushed to go get it. But when I came down, she still sat at the table sipping her coffee. I asked her why she wasn’t ready, and she said she was taking her time.

“I sat beside her and eagerly waited for her to finish her coffee. But instead, she poured me a mug and told me to relax for a moment. After we were done she smiled and said ‘Lynn, you gotta learn how to slow down. If you move too fast, you’ll miss it.’”

“… Miss what?” Bruce spoke shakily, his voice threatening to fail him.

“Anything,” Evelyn grinned. “Leave in a rush and you forget your wallet. Move too fast in a relationship, and you’ll miss the little things that make you fall in love with them more. Move too fast in a case, and you forget the obvious. But me?” Evelyn giggled with a scrunch of her nose, “I forgot my boots.”

Bruce chuckled, a low laugh that warmed Evelyn from the inside out. He didn’t laugh much, not even when he was with her. But he liked who he was when he was with her. She made him feel more human than he had in the last twenty years.

“Okay,” he smirked up at her, a hint of something new in his eyes. “I’ll slow down.”

“Good.” Evelyn stood, straightening out her lab coat. Then she walked passed him, letting her fingers lazily trail over his shoulders as she walked by. A shiver ran down his spine and Bruce sharply inhaled when her fingers had barely grazed the bare skin on his neck.

She closed the door behind her, letting Bruce work in peace. Then she was back to her job, shaping her John Doe’s face until he looked at peace. It was what he deserved.

“Gru!” Wesley smiled as he walked in, his demeanor changing drastically in the two hours he was away. Evelyn almost thought of chastising him for his tardiness. In his hand was an obnoxiously yellow envelope. “Boyfriend left this up front for you.”

“What?” Evelyn’s blood ran cold.

“Here.” Wesley tossed the envelope on one of the empty examination tables as he strode over to his desk. “Bruce Wayne seems like the strong and silent type. Bet he’s a big softy for you if he’s writing you love letters.”

Evelyn walked over to the other exam table, her heartbeat resonating in her ears. Her hands shook as she plucked the envelope from the table. The yellow - so obnoxious and bright - Evelyn could have puked.

To the lovely Eva

The heart by her name -drawn anatomically correct- was chillingly familiar and yet she couldn't place how. With steady hands she carefully ripped the top off, feeling the impending weight of what would be inside. She knew this was far more than just a love note.

She slid the card from its envelope, hearing the pages wobble in the silence. A pin-up witch adorned the cover; one that looked eerily like herself. The words at the bottom edge read “Best Witches” in a retro script. The witch's eyes had been scribbled out with red ink, as had the W. Below it, a scribbled letter B.

She opened the card slowly, daring to look anywhere but the horror hiding inside. A decaying finger with a long, red acrylic nail was taped to the inside, the decomp leaking onto the page. A knot set in Evelyn’s stomach as she read the words just below where the finger was taped.

I like you, Eva. I really do. So let’s play a game. I’ll hide, you seek.

I can be long, I can be short,
I can be grown, and I can be bought,
I can be painted, or left bare,
I can be round, or I can be square.

Come find me.

“I…” Evelyn barely croaked out a word before tears fell down her cheeks. Wesley perked up from his work only to watch his boss begin to break in front of him.

“Dr. Grubauer?” Wesley rushed to her side, stopping in his tracks at the card in her hand. “Oh god…”

Evelyn fought for breath -to compose herself- before the world closed in. She dropped the card on the table and hurried to her office, startling the man inside. Then she began to sob.

Bruce hurried to her side, pulling her tightly into his embrace. He swore it felt like he was holding all her broken pieces together. Evelyn hid her face in his chest, sobbing until her words were incomprehensible.

She wanted to puke.

She wanted to hide.

She just wanted to run away.

But instead, she ran into the arms of her friend -the person she cared for the most. He didn’t speak; didn’t beg for answers. He just held her, stroking his fingers through her hair.

That made her want to stay. He made her want to stay.

The tears had finally stopped, only the hiccups of sobs leaving her chest. Bruce pulled back just enough to brush away the strands of hair stuck to her cheeks. The amount of anger and fear coursing through him was nearly the same as when she’d been slapped in the hospital. The way her lip wobbled set a fire in his chest that would never extinguish.

“He’s back…” Evelyn finally spoke, her words little more than a whisper. “He wants me to find him…”

Bruce stiffened, knowing all too well what she was insinuating. He didn’t know what to say -not that he ever really knew what to say. But he knew exactly what he had to do. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and he left.

 

---

 

Evelyn began to play the killer's game; identifying the person to whom the finger belonged. The fingerprint was long gone, weeks of decomp erasing what little she could have pulled. But that was the point, wasn’t it? To give Evelyn a challenge?

She collected samples from the finger, under the nail, and along the severed edge. She took a chip of paint from the nail itself, the clue more than enough to lead her in that direction. Then hours and hours of testing were to be done. No stone would be left unturned.

Wesley strode in finally, raindrops still dotting his shoulders. Bottles and bottles of red nail polish lined the exam table now and Wesley’s CVS run only added to the collection. They had tested each and every one only for most to end up in donation bins. Too orange. Too dark. Not enough shimmer.

Evelyn watched the screen of her computer, waiting for something -anything- to come in. She had texted Bruce updates she knew he’d probably never read. He had left so fast, and she knew it might be days or even weeks before she saw him again.

That made her heart ache.

“I got it!” Wesley’s shout made Evelyn practically jump out of her seat. He ran into her office with a spark in his eyes; the spark he got when he had solved something on his own.

“Which one?” Evelyn blinked the exhaustion from her eyes. “I’ll go to nail salons in the morning, see which ones carry it, and if they remember anyone using it.”

“No need,” Wesley shook his head. He held out the bottle, the perfect sparkly red color. “It’s Gala by Stella Chroma.”

“Gala?” Evelyn took it from his outstretched hand, examining the bottle expectantly. Her heart raced as she came to the same conclusion as her assistant. “Sarah’s Gala.”

“They want to play hide and seek?” Wesley nodded with a mischievous grin. “That’s where you’ll find them.”

Chapter 6

Notes:

Told you I'd post again soon!

 

Gotham Natural History Museum– November 18^th, 7:45 pm

 

She had been right.

Batman hadn’t visited her in over a week.

Evelyn knew she didn’t need him. She was stronger than that; had lived years on her own. That didn’t mean she didn’t miss him.

The ceremony where Sarah had been officially dubbed Commissioner was shockingly perfect. No crook nor villain dared to ruin her day. That set Evelyn even more on edge. Her date told her she was paranoid.

Teddy Parker, Evelyn’s old friend from her days as a Marine, was on her arm that night. She supposed it should have been the other way around, but everyone was looking at her. She heard people mutter about how scandalous her dress was; about how it showed too much cleavage and the slit came up too high on her thigh. But she knew most of the gossip was due to the fact Bruce wasn’t with her.

The media had asked -no demanded- why she wasn’t with Bruce Wayne. She didn’t give them the time of day, only smiling for the cameras as they ascended the steps to the museum. She made sure her nails were on display for every photo, her hand on Teddy’s shoulder.

Long nails painted that bright, shimmering red.

She was a walking warning. She wanted her tormentor to know she was there. She wanted him to know she knew he was there too. That she was coming for him.

“Eva,” Teddy whispered in her ear. “You look constipated.”

Evelyn smacked him on the arm, the both of them devolving into a fit of laughter. Teddy had been a strategic choice for a date. Not only was he her medic once upon a time, but he was able to put her at ease with his charming smile and carefree demeanor. He had been her savior once upon a time.

“I’m just keeping an eye out,” she finally admitted with the widest grin. She hadn’t smiled like that in over a week.

“Relax,” Teddy purred all too smoothly as he pulled out her chair. “You’ve got this.”

Evelyn nodded, yet her eyes still swept over the crowd. The room was cast in faux candlelight and the sculptures around them almost faded away. Roses in Sarah’s favorite shade of red decorated every table, almost a bloodstain against the stark white tablecloths.

Everyone in attendance seemed so happy. As if danger wasn’t always all around them. All so blind.

Bruce was the only thing to catch her gaze. He’d been looking at her, even from where he sat across the room. A pang of guilt made Evelyn ache. That piercing gaze she’d missed so much had touched her once again.

“Eva,” Teddy whispered in her ear again, finally breaking her out of her trance. “You’re staring.”

“I’m not,” Evelyn jumped to defend herself. She grabbed a flute of champagne as a waiter passed by, uncaring if it was truly meant for her or not. “I simply just gazed over in a direction, and he was there.”

“And since when do you watch Bruce Wayne like that?”

“Like what?” Evelyn shot her friend a warning glance.

“Like you used to look at the stars when we were on patrol.” Teddy smiled knowingly. “You used to get so lost in them. I swore you’d get shot one day because of it.”

“So?” She looked again to where she had seen Bruce, only to be met with an empty chair. Teddy didn’t miss the frown that barely flickered on her lips.

“You love the stars, Evelyn.”

“Not anymore…” her gaze fell to her drink. “Can’t see the stars here.”

“Just because you don’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.” She barely caught the flash of Teddy’s wedding ring as he too grabbed for a flute of champagne. He had been married a long while now, the father of two bouncing and bubbly children. Evelyn used to wish it was her once upon a time. Now she wished she could have a family of her own.

“Dr. Grubauer!” A man exclaimed as he took the seat beside her, shooting her a charming grin. “Harvey Dent. I don’t think we’ve met.”

After Harvey Dent had introduced himself, Evelyn was swept away into conversation after conversation with people of power. While she wasn’t all too interested, she kept up the façade. Instead, she studied each and every person she met, their face, their mannerisms, their voices. No one seemed to be the man in the mask who had attacked her. No one was nursing a bullet wound either.

She broke away from Teddy at some point into his conversation with some cops she didn’t know she worked with. Evelyn wandered through the crowd towards the entryway, tempted to grab another drink along the way. She had an inkling of an idea what she would find and had no clue if it would work.

However, Bruce was one step ahead. There he stood in all his glory, wearing his all-black suit that fit just right. As dashing as he was, Evelyn couldn’t help but notice he was one step ahead of her. He was casually leaning against the wall as he flipped through the guest list.

“Anyone with double initials?”

The way Bruce looked up at her let her know she had been right. He had noticed it too.

“A few…” Bruce swallowed, having to take her in all over again. He knew she’d be the death of him eventually, he just didn’t realize it would be so soon.

“Any worth watching?” She stepped closer and Bruce mindlessly reached out for her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Why did you bring someone else?” The question had been on his mind since he laid eyes on her arm-in-arm with a man he so desperately wished would spontaneously combust.

“Jealous much, Bats?” Evelyn hummed, low enough to be just for him.

“I…” Bruce struggled for the words he’d been practicing in his head. He’d prepared a speech the day as he avoided conversation. But none of the words came to mind. Instead…

“I thought we were inevitable…”

“I thought we were too…” Evelyn was saddened at his words, her eyes falling to the floor. Any wall she had tried to rebuild was now crumbling in his hands. “But then I didn’t hear from you. I thought-”

“I never wanted to ignore you…” Bruce clicked his tongue in displeasure. He tilted her chin so she would look at him again. “I thought being with you was putting you in danger.”

“How could I be in danger with the Savior of Gotham on my side?”

Neither breathed.

Neither moved.

It simply… existed.

Their gaze made the rest of the world slip away. It had the power to do so, though perhaps it always had the ability to do so. Simply existing; where the weight of the world seemed suddenly easy to overcome.

They were so close. So close, Evelyn swore he was the only thing keeping her on her feet. She could no longer feel her fingers as they crept up to hold onto his shoulders. All she could feel was him. Bruce’s gaze was on her lips, and everything felt too fast and too slow all at once.

But all good things come to an end.

“Mr. Wayne!” Mayor Reál announced herself boisterously as she approached with open arms. Evelyn quickly pulled away, feeling as though she had been caught doing something forbidden.

“Mayor Reál,” Bruce sighed and collected himself, tucking the guest list behind his back.

“A pleasure to see you mingling with the guests this time.” Reál smiled despite her pointed comment.

“Just spending time with my girlfriend,” Bruce faked a smile and Evelyn had to bite back a laugh.

“I thought you came with the Marine,” Reál asked with an accusatory glance.

“Teddy and I used to serve together a while back.” Evelyn held onto Bruce’s arm, smiling in her dazzling way. “He always wanted to go to one of these things, but we were always overseas. Thought I’d made his dream come true.”

“I was unaware one of Gotham’s finest served.” Reál perked up. “I would love to have you over so we could speak more on the topic.”

“Dr. Grubauer doesn’t speak publicly about her time served,” Bruce piped up, pulling Evelyn even closer to his side.

“Oh?” Reál didn’t have a moment more to speculate before Evelyn spoke up.

“I think I should get back to Teddy. I’m afraid he might worry I’ve abandoned him again.”

“I’ll join you,” Bruce added. He kept his hand on the small Evelyn’s back, leading her through the crowd. Soon enough, they were able to breathe again.

“I apologize,” Bruce finally mumbled. “She’s usually that nosy.”

“It’s okay.” Evelyn smiled up at him, still living off the feeling of being so close to him. She hummed in contentment as she saw the light blush that had risen across his cheeks.

“I…” Bruce muttered before catching his mistake. Then with shaking hands, he signed to her. You look beautiful tonight.

Evelyn could have died happy at those words. She signed back to him, you always look this handsome.

Teddy had settled himself back at their table as he video-chatted with his family. His daughters -both under the age of five- were oohing and aahing at the lavishly decorated room as he planned the camera. They squealed in delight as Evelyn came into view. Both girls bounced around on the screen, fighting to speak over the other as they asked her about anything and everything they could think of.

“Girls, girls,” Teddy chuckled as he attempted to calm them, “Remember, Evelyn can’t understand you when we’re on the phone.”

Bruce taped Evelyn’s wrist to gather her attention. He signed to her, practically a natural now. They say you look like a princess. She signed her thanks, her eyes watering more at the action than the words.

Teddy said his goodbyes, spending more time wishing his wife a good night. Then as quickly as he hung up, he was on his feet. He and Bruce seemed to study each other a moment before Teddy extended a hand.

“You must be Mr. Wayne.”

“I am.” Bruce returned his handshake in obvious discomfort. “You must be Dr. Parker.”

“Aw, you talk about me?” Teddy boyishly teased, dramatically batting his lashes at Evelyn.

“Shut up.” Evelyn scoffed with a smile.

“Really,” Teddy said through his laughter, “It is an honor to meet you. I admire the work The Wayne Foundation has done in this last year.”

“Thank you.” Bruce nodded.

Sarah approached; confidence radiating from her being. She had changed since her promotion, a new and elegant burgundy dress floated behind her as she strode closer. Evelyn couldn’t help but be proud of her friend.

But the new commissioner was grim as she came to join their conversation.

“Who?” Evelyn asked before a word was even uttered.

“Come with me.” Sarah ushered her coroner away, leaving Evelyn’s companions behind in confused silence.

 “Alright, look,” Teddy broke the silence with a low tone, stepping closer into Bruce’s space. “Eva doesn’t have any brothers and her dad’s a dick so it’s up to me to give you the talk.”

“The… talk?” Bruce blinked back.

“The if-you-hurt-her-I’ll-hurt-you talk,” Teddy sighed. “She got a second chance at life a while back. Make sure you don’t screw that up.”

“I promise.”

Teddy nodded in solidarity before going back to his brink. Bruce stood awkwardly beside him, watching the party go on around him. A bypasser in his own life, it seemed.

“So… you have kids?”

“Two,” Teddy brightened. “Victoria and Eve. God, they’re the best.”

“They seem like it…” Bruce softened, with a hint of a smile on his lips. “I’ve always wanted kids.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“We’re not there yet.”

“What about that kid?” Teddy raised a brow. “The one Eva wants to take in?”

“Tiago?” Bruce’s brows knit together in thought. “I didn’t think she’d want to with me. We haven’t been together that long.”

“Might be worth asking.”

Evelyn hurried back, heels in her hands. Teddy straightened at the panic in her eyes, asking her a fleury of questions. Instead, she came to Bruce’s side as dread began to fill the room. And with eyes pleading with him to play along, she took his arm.

“You know Batman, right?”

Notes:

I apologize if this is shit. Just bored and want to write a crime story.