Fic: And The City Is Full of Light
Jan. 1st, 2007 12:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bofodditySo, the Yuletide-writers have been revealed, and I can come out as the author of And The City Is Full of Light, a Batman Begins-story for myystic. My gift-story, on the other hand, was written by laylah, whose stories I've read and enjoyed before. She wrote Toward Home, for example, which is a deliciously smutty Cloud/Tifa.
Anyway, I have always posted my Yuletide-story in my LJ once it's allowed, and I'm going to do so now. Section VI has been slightly modified because there was, embarrassingly enough, a word missing from the original story (thank you, resmin, for letting me know!). For some reason it was really difficult for me to post the story last year without fucking it up.
Title: And The City Is Full of Light
Fandom: Batman Begins
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Batman isn't the only one on a mission.
Link: http://yuletidetreasure.org/archive/30/andthe.html
Disclaimer: Batman Begins isn't mine and the story isn't written for profit.
Batman crouched on a rooftop, looking down on his city.
Once he had thought that he was the only one to watch over it, but he was wrong.
I
When Barbara Gordon saw Batman for the first time, she was kneeling by the window of her room, wondering how long she could avoid a dinner with her new family.
She had her forehead pressed against the cool glass, imagining all the awkward conversations that might take place today when the darkness shifted outside, and she opened her eyes to see a strange shadow looking down on her uncle. Her breath hitched when she realized just what she was looking at, and she inched her entire body closer to the window to get a better look.
No movement at all would have probably been a wiser choice of action as the shadow tensed and began to move, and Barbara gave up on all attempts to remain invisible as she tried to get one more look. She froze when the shadow's eyes locked together with hers, her heartbeat loud and strong as a war drum.
The shadow was gone with a blink, but the drum inside her didn't fall silent.
She kept avoiding family dinners afterwards as well, but her reasons were nobler now. Her binoculars had rested unused in their box for years, but they eventually became her second eyes.
II
In their last spot, a man asked Dick where the circus would head next, frowning at his reply.
"It's not a hopeful place," the man murmured, eyes dark with grim thoughts. He was quick to smile after noticing Dick's worried look, though, adding more brightly: "But if you're a good boy, you should do just fine."
The man said nothing more, and Dick wondered if he was talking about Batman.
There were no known pictures about Batman, so Dick had no trouble imagining all sorts of things about him, a twisted half man, half bat flapping through his dreams, a shade of nightmare. The man's words kept ringing in his mind, and it was only his father who finally made him stop worrying.
"We're not going to stay there long enough for anything bad to happen," his father told him as they swung on the trapezes together, his hands strong and warm around Dick's arms. "And if the Batman's there, we'll give him something to smile about."
Dick snickered. "Yeah, your outfit."
It was his father's laughter that rang in his ears as he took his first look at Gotham, his concerns sliding away like water. It would be alright.
III
Jason Todd never meant to become a thief, but he eventually became good enough to find it increasingly boring.
For somebody whose life was about being careful, it never ceased to amaze him how careless people could be in Gotham. Only mobsters afforded to believe that they were safe, and Jason knew better than to target them unless he was feeling unusually lucky. It was only on those moments when he felt some sort of thrill over what he did, though never without fear, never without idea of his mother waiting for him in vain.
Then one day he saw IT.
He was kneeling by a small Beetle when he saw a lone motorcycle drive by in frightened hurry. He had wondered why when the motorcycle had been reached by burn of gigantic headlights, headlights that were eyes of an absolute monster of a car.
Jason kept robbing Beetles, but it was the monster he kept his eyes open for, listening to the growl of the motor and dry slide of heavy tires against the road. He dreamt of driving off to freedom in that monster, sometimes alone, but mostly with the bat and the man sitting by his side.
IV
Months had passed since Janet Drake's death, and all Tim seemed to do was to watch the news.
Jack Drake observed all of that in worry, fearing that Tim's apparent adjustment was fake kind. Tim still tensed when Jack tried to talk about his mother, still smiled too quickly and claimed: "I'm okay."
Jack doubted, but decided to wait.
When he realized that it was Batman that Tim watched news for, he felt fear. The man fought against crime, yes, but the justice he delivered was thick with rage, and Jack didn't want that for Tim. His mother's death had been a horrible one, but all the blame for that was Jack's to carry, not Tim's. Tim didn't need that sort of idol.
So Jack feared, and ended up surprised.
"Did you hear about how he caught the Joker this time?" Tim asked him, watching him eagerly.
Jack nodded, and Tim added: "He could have done it much easier."
"How?" His teeth gnashed anxiously.
Tim met his eyes, lifted his chin.
"This time, he could have just called the police."
He broke into laughter. Tim probably thought he could do better, but he wouldn't go out on the streets yet.
V
"I'm Batman!"
Stephanie's father glanced at her briefly, uninterested.
"That's nice," he said. "Now scram off."
And he turned away, back to his very important conversation with his loser friends while Stephanie stood there in her cape and cowl, or rather, a black hooded shirt that served as both. She remained there for a while, pouting at her father's back before walking off a little further, starting to practice her fighting moves. Listening to her father at the same time was difficult, but she managed.
"As I said, now that Batman has everybody scared, there's room for new players. And I'm going in."
Like he wasn't fresh out of jail. Stephanie sighed.
"What would you call yourself?" one loser friend asked, obviously impressed.
"Don't know yet." Stephanie heard him turn on his chair, calling out for her: "Hey, Batman! Do you think you would be brave enough to battle the fearsome.. Cluemaster?"
Stephanie turned to see him pose, trying to imagine a Cluemaster. He would be loud, flashy, confident that he could take Batman on. She couldn't imagine Batman bothering.
However, there would be heroes that did.
"Never," she claimed innocently, hiding her smile as her father beamed with pride.
VI
After calling the police to pick Mr. Zsasz up, Leslie Thompkins made herself tea.
She took her time to brew, and it wasn't until she was comfortably seated by the table when she called out gently: "You are not as unnoticeable as you think you are."
Leslie turned her head and saw Batman slide in view from the shadows, fluidly like he was one himself. That surprised her, but it was meant to intimidate her, it had failed.
"Is he sedated?" Batman asked, not bothering with the introductions.
Something about his voice felt familiar, making her frown. She brushed it off, nodding her reply. "Police will arrive here soon. Apparently you came here for nothing."
She expected a retort. Instead Batman stepped into the lamp light, his form gaining edges. Becoming human.
"He might wake up," Batman murmured, his voice a touch softer.
Wake up, and hurt her. And Batman would hurt him in return, a man of violence despite his intentions. He would protect Gotham, but violence wouldn't end.
That would be Leslie's battle to fight, and the only battle that would ever take place in this clinic.
"He might," she admitted. Batman remained still, and they both waited.
VII
She arrived to Gotham in a little red sports car, and it didn't take long before she was noticed.
"I hope you have alarms in that car," a cop warned her after handing her a ticket, watching the dark streets nervously.
"You should try to be modest," an elder lady told her when she stopped to ask for directions, voice full of patronizing and pity.
"Bitch!" a brat shouted to her as he finally managed to drive past her, after she refused to let him bully her out of the road.
They all got a smile in return, and she drove on.
She sold the car later to flaunt with other things, but also for practical reasons: In her new line of work, she needed something durable. She spent her evenings making shallow acquaintances, her nights practicing gymnastics. She put out food for stray cats before going to sleep in the morning.
The first time she slipped into leather and took out into the night she saw the sports car again. Driver wasn't the one she had sold it to.
Catwoman was never seen driving off in that particular sports car again, but she kept it, had it painted black.
VIII
Her relatives complained that it was too expensive to order newspapers all the way from Gotham, but as long as Helena behaved, it was never brought up as an issue. The papers kept coming, and Helena kept tossing them away as soon as she gathered all possible information on Batman.
Her memory was losing its sharpest edges, but she still remembered how her family screamed. She thought of Batman, way the world shook at his presence, and was sure that his dreams were the same.
Her request for martial arts training had been initially received with amusement, her relatives claiming that having a bodyguard would be enough for a young girl like her. But maybe there had been something about her eyes, the way hatred swelled within her like illness. Maybe they saw something in the way her bodyguard had warily introduced her to a crossbow, the way her hands didn't tremble when she accepted the weapon.
She knew they saw a pawn. She wouldn't correct that yet.
It would take a long time until she returned to Gotham, and a long time until she met Batman. But she was patient. She kept training, and dreamt in shades of red.
IX
Bruce Wayne was smooth, handsome and confident in his belief that no woman could resist him. She found him utterly uninteresting.
"Has anybody taken you sightseeing yet, Ms Wu-San?" Wayne asked her, apparently casual, but his eyes had locked on her the moment she had entered the ballroom, drawn by her exotic appearance and dismissive attitude. He probably thought that she had never set a foot in America before.
"I'm not staying here for long," she replied, hoping that he was familiar with concept of rejection. Wayne seemed to be started by her cool response, but kept his polite smile. Maybe he wasn't that much of a fool after all.
"A business trip?" Wayne inquired, unwilling to walk away rejected.
According to the police records, Ra's al Ghul's body had never been found. Maybe they just hadn't known to look for that particular man, but she could imagine him rising from the ashes of a collapsed building, limping off to lick his wounds and bruised dignity. She would have liked to see him then, whispering revenge.
She would have stayed long enough to hear a name, set out for a hunt.
"Personal," Lady Shiva said, and granted Wayne a smile.
X
Upon his arrival in Gotham, Harvey Dent was told: "If you want to know what you're going to face here, you should visit the Arkham Asylum."
So he did, and the words proved themselves true.
Dr. Quinzel's smile was professional as she greeted him, her handshake firm, but even she seemed to have an unsettling edge to her, comfortable in her surroundings like she was part of them herself. Madness seemed drip from the walls, hanging in air like poison.
He was disturbed, but not scared. He was here to bring order, and it was only necessary that he understood what he had against him.
"Gotham seems to be renewing," Quinzel commented, her tone absent.
He glanced at her. "How?"
She smiled to him, somehow away. "I came to lead this establishment only after my predecessor disappeared. Same happened to yours."
She watched him thoughtfully. "Do you think you'll be safe?"
He didn't. His work wasn't safe, and neither was Gotham, but he hadn't expected anything else. The city had its protector already, but it would take more than one man to make things right for good.
Harvey would be the second.
"No," he said. "But I'll manage."
He would.
- - -
He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt like he wasn't the only one on a mission.
He liked it.
To all my reviewers: Thank you so much for all your comments! I honestly hadn't expected so much positive feedback, and I'm really glad that the story worked for you. I would also like to thank all those people who reviewed my stories on the two previous years, as I've been too insensitive to do it before. You people rock!
Anyway, I have always posted my Yuletide-story in my LJ once it's allowed, and I'm going to do so now. Section VI has been slightly modified because there was, embarrassingly enough, a word missing from the original story (thank you, resmin, for letting me know!). For some reason it was really difficult for me to post the story last year without fucking it up.
Title: And The City Is Full of Light
Fandom: Batman Begins
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Batman isn't the only one on a mission.
Link: http://yuletidetreasure.org/archive/30/andthe.html
Disclaimer: Batman Begins isn't mine and the story isn't written for profit.
Batman crouched on a rooftop, looking down on his city.
Once he had thought that he was the only one to watch over it, but he was wrong.
When Barbara Gordon saw Batman for the first time, she was kneeling by the window of her room, wondering how long she could avoid a dinner with her new family.
She had her forehead pressed against the cool glass, imagining all the awkward conversations that might take place today when the darkness shifted outside, and she opened her eyes to see a strange shadow looking down on her uncle. Her breath hitched when she realized just what she was looking at, and she inched her entire body closer to the window to get a better look.
No movement at all would have probably been a wiser choice of action as the shadow tensed and began to move, and Barbara gave up on all attempts to remain invisible as she tried to get one more look. She froze when the shadow's eyes locked together with hers, her heartbeat loud and strong as a war drum.
The shadow was gone with a blink, but the drum inside her didn't fall silent.
She kept avoiding family dinners afterwards as well, but her reasons were nobler now. Her binoculars had rested unused in their box for years, but they eventually became her second eyes.
In their last spot, a man asked Dick where the circus would head next, frowning at his reply.
"It's not a hopeful place," the man murmured, eyes dark with grim thoughts. He was quick to smile after noticing Dick's worried look, though, adding more brightly: "But if you're a good boy, you should do just fine."
The man said nothing more, and Dick wondered if he was talking about Batman.
There were no known pictures about Batman, so Dick had no trouble imagining all sorts of things about him, a twisted half man, half bat flapping through his dreams, a shade of nightmare. The man's words kept ringing in his mind, and it was only his father who finally made him stop worrying.
"We're not going to stay there long enough for anything bad to happen," his father told him as they swung on the trapezes together, his hands strong and warm around Dick's arms. "And if the Batman's there, we'll give him something to smile about."
Dick snickered. "Yeah, your outfit."
It was his father's laughter that rang in his ears as he took his first look at Gotham, his concerns sliding away like water. It would be alright.
Jason Todd never meant to become a thief, but he eventually became good enough to find it increasingly boring.
For somebody whose life was about being careful, it never ceased to amaze him how careless people could be in Gotham. Only mobsters afforded to believe that they were safe, and Jason knew better than to target them unless he was feeling unusually lucky. It was only on those moments when he felt some sort of thrill over what he did, though never without fear, never without idea of his mother waiting for him in vain.
Then one day he saw IT.
He was kneeling by a small Beetle when he saw a lone motorcycle drive by in frightened hurry. He had wondered why when the motorcycle had been reached by burn of gigantic headlights, headlights that were eyes of an absolute monster of a car.
Jason kept robbing Beetles, but it was the monster he kept his eyes open for, listening to the growl of the motor and dry slide of heavy tires against the road. He dreamt of driving off to freedom in that monster, sometimes alone, but mostly with the bat and the man sitting by his side.
Months had passed since Janet Drake's death, and all Tim seemed to do was to watch the news.
Jack Drake observed all of that in worry, fearing that Tim's apparent adjustment was fake kind. Tim still tensed when Jack tried to talk about his mother, still smiled too quickly and claimed: "I'm okay."
Jack doubted, but decided to wait.
When he realized that it was Batman that Tim watched news for, he felt fear. The man fought against crime, yes, but the justice he delivered was thick with rage, and Jack didn't want that for Tim. His mother's death had been a horrible one, but all the blame for that was Jack's to carry, not Tim's. Tim didn't need that sort of idol.
So Jack feared, and ended up surprised.
"Did you hear about how he caught the Joker this time?" Tim asked him, watching him eagerly.
Jack nodded, and Tim added: "He could have done it much easier."
"How?" His teeth gnashed anxiously.
Tim met his eyes, lifted his chin.
"This time, he could have just called the police."
He broke into laughter. Tim probably thought he could do better, but he wouldn't go out on the streets yet.
"I'm Batman!"
Stephanie's father glanced at her briefly, uninterested.
"That's nice," he said. "Now scram off."
And he turned away, back to his very important conversation with his loser friends while Stephanie stood there in her cape and cowl, or rather, a black hooded shirt that served as both. She remained there for a while, pouting at her father's back before walking off a little further, starting to practice her fighting moves. Listening to her father at the same time was difficult, but she managed.
"As I said, now that Batman has everybody scared, there's room for new players. And I'm going in."
Like he wasn't fresh out of jail. Stephanie sighed.
"What would you call yourself?" one loser friend asked, obviously impressed.
"Don't know yet." Stephanie heard him turn on his chair, calling out for her: "Hey, Batman! Do you think you would be brave enough to battle the fearsome.. Cluemaster?"
Stephanie turned to see him pose, trying to imagine a Cluemaster. He would be loud, flashy, confident that he could take Batman on. She couldn't imagine Batman bothering.
However, there would be heroes that did.
"Never," she claimed innocently, hiding her smile as her father beamed with pride.
After calling the police to pick Mr. Zsasz up, Leslie Thompkins made herself tea.
She took her time to brew, and it wasn't until she was comfortably seated by the table when she called out gently: "You are not as unnoticeable as you think you are."
Leslie turned her head and saw Batman slide in view from the shadows, fluidly like he was one himself. That surprised her, but it was meant to intimidate her, it had failed.
"Is he sedated?" Batman asked, not bothering with the introductions.
Something about his voice felt familiar, making her frown. She brushed it off, nodding her reply. "Police will arrive here soon. Apparently you came here for nothing."
She expected a retort. Instead Batman stepped into the lamp light, his form gaining edges. Becoming human.
"He might wake up," Batman murmured, his voice a touch softer.
Wake up, and hurt her. And Batman would hurt him in return, a man of violence despite his intentions. He would protect Gotham, but violence wouldn't end.
That would be Leslie's battle to fight, and the only battle that would ever take place in this clinic.
"He might," she admitted. Batman remained still, and they both waited.
She arrived to Gotham in a little red sports car, and it didn't take long before she was noticed.
"I hope you have alarms in that car," a cop warned her after handing her a ticket, watching the dark streets nervously.
"You should try to be modest," an elder lady told her when she stopped to ask for directions, voice full of patronizing and pity.
"Bitch!" a brat shouted to her as he finally managed to drive past her, after she refused to let him bully her out of the road.
They all got a smile in return, and she drove on.
She sold the car later to flaunt with other things, but also for practical reasons: In her new line of work, she needed something durable. She spent her evenings making shallow acquaintances, her nights practicing gymnastics. She put out food for stray cats before going to sleep in the morning.
The first time she slipped into leather and took out into the night she saw the sports car again. Driver wasn't the one she had sold it to.
Catwoman was never seen driving off in that particular sports car again, but she kept it, had it painted black.
Her relatives complained that it was too expensive to order newspapers all the way from Gotham, but as long as Helena behaved, it was never brought up as an issue. The papers kept coming, and Helena kept tossing them away as soon as she gathered all possible information on Batman.
Her memory was losing its sharpest edges, but she still remembered how her family screamed. She thought of Batman, way the world shook at his presence, and was sure that his dreams were the same.
Her request for martial arts training had been initially received with amusement, her relatives claiming that having a bodyguard would be enough for a young girl like her. But maybe there had been something about her eyes, the way hatred swelled within her like illness. Maybe they saw something in the way her bodyguard had warily introduced her to a crossbow, the way her hands didn't tremble when she accepted the weapon.
She knew they saw a pawn. She wouldn't correct that yet.
It would take a long time until she returned to Gotham, and a long time until she met Batman. But she was patient. She kept training, and dreamt in shades of red.
Bruce Wayne was smooth, handsome and confident in his belief that no woman could resist him. She found him utterly uninteresting.
"Has anybody taken you sightseeing yet, Ms Wu-San?" Wayne asked her, apparently casual, but his eyes had locked on her the moment she had entered the ballroom, drawn by her exotic appearance and dismissive attitude. He probably thought that she had never set a foot in America before.
"I'm not staying here for long," she replied, hoping that he was familiar with concept of rejection. Wayne seemed to be started by her cool response, but kept his polite smile. Maybe he wasn't that much of a fool after all.
"A business trip?" Wayne inquired, unwilling to walk away rejected.
According to the police records, Ra's al Ghul's body had never been found. Maybe they just hadn't known to look for that particular man, but she could imagine him rising from the ashes of a collapsed building, limping off to lick his wounds and bruised dignity. She would have liked to see him then, whispering revenge.
She would have stayed long enough to hear a name, set out for a hunt.
"Personal," Lady Shiva said, and granted Wayne a smile.
Upon his arrival in Gotham, Harvey Dent was told: "If you want to know what you're going to face here, you should visit the Arkham Asylum."
So he did, and the words proved themselves true.
Dr. Quinzel's smile was professional as she greeted him, her handshake firm, but even she seemed to have an unsettling edge to her, comfortable in her surroundings like she was part of them herself. Madness seemed drip from the walls, hanging in air like poison.
He was disturbed, but not scared. He was here to bring order, and it was only necessary that he understood what he had against him.
"Gotham seems to be renewing," Quinzel commented, her tone absent.
He glanced at her. "How?"
She smiled to him, somehow away. "I came to lead this establishment only after my predecessor disappeared. Same happened to yours."
She watched him thoughtfully. "Do you think you'll be safe?"
He didn't. His work wasn't safe, and neither was Gotham, but he hadn't expected anything else. The city had its protector already, but it would take more than one man to make things right for good.
Harvey would be the second.
"No," he said. "But I'll manage."
He would.
He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt like he wasn't the only one on a mission.
He liked it.
To all my reviewers: Thank you so much for all your comments! I honestly hadn't expected so much positive feedback, and I'm really glad that the story worked for you. I would also like to thank all those people who reviewed my stories on the two previous years, as I've been too insensitive to do it before. You people rock!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-06-04 04:42 pm (UTC)And the hopeful note from Batman's POV at the end, very understated and powerful at the same time. Bravo!
no subject
Date: 2008-06-04 06:54 pm (UTC)Also, as moody as BB was, I thought it also had this theme of hope, which I tried to catch here. Glad to hear it worked.
no subject
Date: 2008-10-09 02:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-09 03:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-09 04:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-09 08:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-10-09 10:03 pm (UTC)