#hollandorks

A primal need to survive rose within y/n as hands dragged her into the smoke. She thrashed wildly, twisting every which way to try and escape the iron grip that held her. Her hands turned into claws and she swiped at whatever she could find. Her nails met flesh and she abruptly hit the asphalt as a man yelled. 

Go, go, go, she shouted to herself, her breath coming in panicked pants. “Help!” she called, but she didn’t have enough air to shout. She was almost to the motorcycle, hands reaching for the key to turn it, when she was grabbed again. 

“Bitch,” the man she had seen earlier snarled into her ear. The fourth murder suspect. Hell, he wasn’t even a suspect. She knew he had killed those two people. She had seen it. 

Pain exploded across her face as his fist connected. 

This time she did scream. 

He laughed. “All this time searching, and you’re right here on our doorstep.” 

She took a swipe at him with her nails again. He moved easily out of the way. She tried to run again but he simply caught her like a cat toying with its prey before killing it. 

Because he was going to kill her. And he was going to do it before Batman or Gordon or anyone else could save her. 

Behind her was the man who’d grabbed her, both of his hands bleeding where she had scratched him. She was between the two men, the motorcycle too far, Batman nowhere to be seen. 

She went still. She looked around wildly for an escape, any escape, but saw none. There was still gunfire from the front of the pub. She could hear sirens now, but they were too distant. They would be too late. 

She closed her eyes. 

“There’s a good girl,” her murderer said. She shivered and almost gagged at the words. “No use fighting it. You saw something you weren’t supposed to, and it’s my job to take care of it, you see. You can’t hide forever, even with your little vigilante friend.” He snorted. “Some good he did you.” 

When her eyes opened, they landed on the gun at his waist. 

She had never shot a gun before, but if she could grab it…

She turned in a slow circle, a trapped animal, wild with panic, searching for a way out under a false calm. 

When she again faced her killer, there was a soft sound behind her. He frowned. 

The smoke was clearing now. 

With another sudden gust of wind, it cleared enough for her to see the man she’d scratched , now unconscious on the ground. 

She ran towards him and the shadow that stood over him. 

The other man grabbed for her but she managed to shrug out of her jacket and get away. 

She was almost to her savior when the shot rang out. 

She gasped and stumbled to a halt. She waited for the pain, the agony, the sudden onslaught of darkness bringing her death. 

When she opened her eyes, the Batman was in front of her. 

The shot had hit him the chest. She could see the mark from it, the bullet perfectly pressed into the armor right over his heart. 

The man pointing the gun stared at them with wide eyes. 

Then he cursed and ran. 

Batman stepped after him, but more shots rang out. He shoved her against the wall and covered her with his body as he took one, two, three more bullets to the chest like it was nothing. He growled and knocked the shooter unconscious as soon as the gun clicked, empty. 

The alley lit up in red and blue as the shooter hit the ground with a thud. 

“I’ve got you,” Batman said, his voice almost hoarse. He turned and caged her in with his arms, her own personal bulletproof shield. She stared up at him, still sucking in panicked breaths. Her face was wet with tears, her vision blurry with them.

“You–” she said but it came out a sob. “They shot you. Oh my god.” Her hands fumbled over his chest in a search for blood. No way he had taken four shots and come away completely unscathed. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked. There was something dangerous in his voice. 

“Are you hurt?” she asked then hiccuped on another sob. 

He ripped off a glove and cupped her face with his bare hand.

Her entire body melted into the touch. She whimpered softly and closed her eyes. “I’m okay,” she said, because she was now. His skin was hot, almost burning where he caressed her cheek. He slipped the hand down her neck and angled her head towards the light. 

“You’re bleeding,” he said. 

“I’m okay,” she repeated. He let out a long breath. “He got away,” she said, because that seemed important. 

“But you’re alive,” Batman said. 

“Hey!” Gordon’s familiar voice shouted. 

“I have his picture,” she said. She didn’t want Batman to stop touching her face. The touch was a comfort, an anchor, a safe haven in a storm. His hands were callused but gentle. “A clear picture.” 

Batman let her go. His absence was an immediate ache in her chest. 

“What the hell happened?” Gordon demanded in an almost-shout as police swarmed the alley. “You were supposed to take her to the store or something, not to a gunfight!” 

She realized that Batman had stepped in front of her again. As if Gordon was going to shoot at her and he was ready to take the bullet. She leaned around him. The presence of Gordon calmed her further. For the moment, she was safe, and Batman was safe, and that was all that mattered. Everything else was a problem for later that she shoved into a locked box in her mind. 

As Batman explained what happened to Gordon, y/n clung to his cape like a kid with a security blanket. She wanted his hand on her skin again, wanted the anchor of his touch, but he had already put his glove back on. 

With a jolt, she quickly pulled up her recent pictures with her free hand. 

“Here,” she said, holding it out between the two men, interrupting whatever argument they were having. “I got a picture of him. It’s him. I know it’s him. He admitted it to me and everything.” 

Gordon took the camera. “I need to–” 

“Keep it, yeah, I know. Just don’t delete anything.” She waved a hand and almost tipped over. Now that the adrenaline was fading, she thought she might pass out. 

Gordon cursed and paced in a small circle. When he paused, he crossed his arms, then used one hand to point at her. “I’m putting a police detail on your house. And I’m taking you home and speaking with Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth both.”

She nodded, but she wasn’t really listening. Batman was watching her, a hand on her elbow, steadying her, his mouth turned down with concern. 

She met his eyes. 

He looked away, as usual. 

“Stay right here,” Gordon said. “I’ll send someone over to get a statement, then I’m taking you straight home.” 

“But won’t they know who I am as soon as they see the police there every day?” she asked. Her brain was finally starting to catch up with things. 

“It’s only a matter of time before they figure it out,” Gordon said, his voice gentling. “I’d rather err on the side of caution. Now stay put, both of you.” 

Gordon strode away, taking command of the scene, having her camera bagged as evidence as he went. 

She didn’t move from Batman’s side. She didn’t want to. Men were being led away in cuffs or on stretchers and she let the movements hold her gaze until she landed on a familiar officer. 

Martinez saw her at the same time and jogged over. “Hey, you okay?” he said, not even bothering to acknowledge the hulking figure that had once again moved to block her view. She thumped a fist into Batman’s armored back to try to get him to move. What, did he think Martinez was a threat? 

“Fit as a fiddle,” she said. She moved to the side so she could see Martinez. “Except for whatever adrenaline and fear do to your brain.” She went to brush hair out of her face and touched the spot where the man had hit her. She winced. “Okay, and the tiny bump on the head.”  

“God, what happened? I heard Gordon’s call come over and we got like, a million calls reporting gunshots and–” He reached out a hand, probably to make sure y/n really was okay, only to be blocked again by Batman. He looked up at him. “Good thing you were here, man.” 

“Good thing,” Batman said in his low growl. She heard the threat in it even if Martinez didn’t. Her brows drew together. Martinez was about as menacing as a puppy. 

“I gotta go,” Martinez said as someone called his name. “Text me later!” 

He jogged away. 

“Friend of yours?” Batman asked wryly. He glanced down at her and away. 

“You always look away from me,” she said instead of answering the question. “It’s like you’re scared to look at me or something. Am I that hideous?” She meant it as a joke but it came out weird, strangled. 

She saw him swallow even as he still refused to look at her. “Because I’m scared to get too close.” His voice was a low rasp. There it was again–that hint of familiarity, like a dream fading upon waking.

“Why?” 

“Because you–terrify me.” 

The words sent a crackle of electricity through her. She opened her mouth to ask why again, but Gordon was back. 

“Let’s go, kid.” He grabbed her by the elbow but she dug in her heels. 

“Wait,” she said, but she didn’t know what for. She pulled her arm away. She went to turn back to Batman, to make him answer her questions, to get him to say why she terrified him. 

But he was gone. 

–

Wayne Tower’s lobby was ablaze with light. The whole security team was there, in a standoff with several GCPD officers. Gordon spoke briefly with Blake and a uniformed officer before escorting her upstairs with Martinez. 

She couldn’t stop thinking of Batman’s words. Because you terrify me. Her? Terrify him? But why? How? She remembered the warmth of his hand on her face, so gentle despite the violence he had just displayed towards their attackers. 

She wondered, albeit briefly, if her mind was focusing on that instead of what had happened to her, like some form of shock. 

As the elevator opened, all thoughts of Batman fled. 

Because standing there, looking rumpled like he’d rolled out of bed, was Bruce Wayne. 

He was lurking behind Alfred, eyes half closed in the bright foyer lights, his clothes baggy and ratty like he was homeless rather than a billionaire. 

He had never looked better, or more far away. 

Seeing him there–even knowing that it was Gordon that had requested he be there and not a concern for her safety–loosened something within her. 

Alfred rushed towards her and gathered her in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re alright, dear girl,” he said into her hair. “Gordon called and explained.” Her eyes met Bruce’s over Alfred’s shoulder. She expected him to walk away like he so often did whenever they were in the same room lately. 

Instead, he held her gaze steadily. She felt like he was trying to tell her something, but she didn’t know what. 

The thought brought tears to her eyes as the night’s events caught up with her. Bruce was so far away from her and the distance had never been more apparent. She used to be able to read him with a single glance and vice versa. Now his gaze was a wall of blue ice, as distant from her as the Antarctic. 

“I’m okay,” she said, but she wasn’t sure she was.

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