DISCLAIMER: I
don’t make profit on this, don’t sue;
these characters belong to DC Comics (which is owned
by Warner Bros I believe)
A/N: Spoilers for Batman: Murderer and Batman:
Fugitive; Inspired by the upcoming OMAC stuff and also
by a plotbunny which won’t go away. Pairing: BM/f
***
Gloves
by bnjammin
***
Most people come onto a job and learn as they go. Even
if they’ve had plenty of experience, there’s still a
lot to learn – tricks of the trade, special
regulations, and what not.
Not me. I’ve been on this job for – well, if I told
you I’d have to kill you. It’s a matter of national
security, about fifty levels above “Top Secret.” You
see, I work for an organization that doesn’t really
exist. We do missions that never really happen.
Officially, we’re some rogue group which the
government frowns upon. Unofficially, we’re one of the
big reasons the world hasn’t gone to pieces yet.
You would think that the job would require constant
learning, constant testing, and a ridiculously
difficult training regimen. It does, depending on who
you ask. For me, it was nothing I wasn’t already used
to. Running twenty miles a day? No problem. Level Five
workout program? I could’ve done level six without
breaking a sweat. Target practice? Even though I’ve
rarely used a firearm except for show, I had an
accuracy level rivaling that of the instructor.
My instructors were amazed. Some of them began to
whisper about my not being human – maybe I was some
sort of metahuman. They were wrong, of course, but I
never corrected them. No, I’d let them create a
persona for me. Its exactly what HE would have
done,
anyways.
As for why I was so good, there’s a simple
explanation. I was trained by the best. I was trained
for the worst. And I was trained by someone who would
not even look me in the eye if there was the slightest
hint of giving up or failure anywhere. Try it for a
while. It’ll take you places.
Like on a secret mission into the heart of the JLA
Watchtower on the Moon. They had assigned me to it,
citing my familiarity with security protocols, my
ability at stealth, but, primarily I guess, they
wanted to test my loyalty. Can’t blame them, really.
There was no reason to trust me, especially given my
past and who I’d been associated with. But, if it was
a mission, I would do it.
I broke through the outer hull simply enough by
approaching in a cloaked one person-vessel which on
scanners looked just like “cosmic dust,” for lack of a
better phrase. Take-off was difficult, to say the
least, and maneuvering about for almost twenty hours
teaches you the true meaning of patience. Why was I
going so slowly? Can’t risk the JLA sensors which are
supposed to be more sophisticated than almost anything
on the planet detect excess energy of course.
Upon reaching the surface of their installation, I
quickly hacked through the first three security
defense systems rather simply. I counted five seconds
after placing the microcharge which blew open a
hole
large enough for me to crawl through. Its interesting
how in space you can feel the explosion but you can’t
hear it. As this was only my second time into space, I
was still rather unused to the phenomena. Anyways, I
entered and then I was faced with another computer
screen.
“Predictable,” I remembered muttering as I walked
towards the panel. Quickly using every security trick
I knew, I figured out the format of the code and
entered the ten digit number my equipment told me was
the password. But before I hit “enter,” I froze. I
recognized the ...
I scowled at my sudden break in concentration, and
quickly entered the numbers. The door hissed open, and
I walked in – straight into the heart of the Justice
League of
Black Bishop had already told me about the layout.
Still, it was somewhat awe-inspiring, that I was in a
building which more or less headquartered the saviors
of the world ...
After about five seconds of being an awestruck teenage
girl, I began to walk towards my target
point – a
central computer access point. My mission was simple:
retrieve the data the League had about a certain
covert operation which the... organization felt
couldn’t be compromised, even by the JLA. Having
already memorized the layout, I moved quickly through
the conduits and access tubes, checking the security
alert status as I went along, taking special care to
remain undetected. At one point, I watched Superman
walk by. It was odd seeing him in this new perspective
– myself as a thief. It was a complete reversal of
what had happened the last time I had met him in
nullifiers to mask the sound of my breathing and
heart-rate. To be honest, I half-expected him to find
me, but he walked on as if he was completely unaware.
I shook the memories of my last encounter with the Man
of Steel and continued on with my quest. After about
another thirty minutes of crawling through service
hatches, I reached the door undetected. I swiped the
special card tech had designed to break through any
electronic swipe-lock and entered. Before I was able
to even react, I was grabbed forcefully from behind
and a black glove covered my mouth, preventing my
initial gasp from reaching anyone’s ears.
I fought back, dragging my heel down my assailant’s
shin before slamming down on his feet. The sudden
attack did not impress him as he simply tightened his
grip. I reacted by continuing to struggle. However,
there was no way I could dislodge him. After about
twenty minutes of endless struggling, my muscles tired
and my assailant let go, dropping me to the floor.
I breathed deeply several times before tensing at the
sound of his dark, deep, gravelly voice, “You could
have called.”
I looked up at him. And despite using all the
professionalism and effort I can muster, the tears
came streaming out. “You. Its
always you!”
He looked back at me, his face covered in darkness,
just as he always was. Someone who hadn’t spent a
great deal of time with him would never have been able
to tell his expression. I knew him quite well,
however. And I knew that despite his voice and
posture, he was hiding from me, because he didn’t want
me to look at him.
“Sasha...” he began, his voice breathy and not really
pointed in my direction.
“Don’t Sasha me, Bruce!” I snapped, cutting him off.
“I...”
“No, Bruce. No! I don’t want to hear it! You can
report me, arrest me, do whatever. But no! This
was
over. This never began. I - I don’t want to hear it!”
The tears were flowing a great deal more freely. And,
I hoped that he didn’t see them. But, I knew he did.
And for some reason, a part of me wanted him to. I
wanted to hurt him so badly. For what he did to me.
“You’re crying,” he said in a voice gentle enough to
make you forget he had a gravelly tone.
I sniffled before wiping my face with my sleeve. “As
if you would care!”
He stepped closer towards me, his face still shrouded
in darkness. I looked at him for a few moments, tears
glistening in my eyes in the oddly lit room. A quick
glance confirmed that Bruce had been prepared. The
computers in the rectangular and spartan room
were all
just dummy boxes. There were old metallic tables,
raggedy chairs, and a collection of old circuitry
rotting in the various corners. The room was lit in
bands, with only some of the lamps working, and
working only somewhat well. Bruce used this to his
advantage, as his face was still in the darkness,
although at this point he had stepped close enough so
that I could see an outline of his head.
“Are you all right?” he asked, slowly moving towards
me.
“Yea,” I said quietly. “No. Maybe. I – I don’t know.”
He stopped immediately upon hearing that. I could
tell, somehow, that he was uneasy. His posture,
normally straight and ominous, was soft and shaky.
I saw the symbol of the Bat on his chest and looked to
the floor, not wanting to see it any more. I asked,
more like gasped, “Why did you do it Bruce?”
“Why did I do what?” he asked, face still hidden in
the shadows.
“Why did you keep that passkey? Those 10 digits.. The
same 10 digits that I used to access the Batcomputers.
I know you well enough to know that you change your
security protocols weekly. I know you left that there
deliberately. Why!?”
His voice began but trailed off, “Because...”
I stared at him. He stopped, and I watched the outline
of his head look down for just a moment, before he
took yet another step towards me into the light.
“Because what?” I asked, somewhat annoyed and at the
same time, somewhat curious.
“Because,” he started, taking another step into the
light. My eyes widened when I saw him, unmasked, his
eyes and handsome face mournful. “Because I always
hoped that you would come into my life again.”
I stood up and walked towards him. I stopped just
within an arm’s reach of him, and I looked up into his
eyes. It was – breathtaking. He was so tall. So
handsome. “I can’t. I told you before, I won’t go
through with this. And I can’t keep living my life
with you in my head like this. And I told you not to
go searching--”
“I didn’t, Sasha,” Bruce said, his index finger – when
did he take off his glove? – moving up to my lips as
if to silence them. I hate to say it, but I sighed
softly at the feeling. “But, I set up a program to
inform me if at any moment anyone entered your code in
any of my systems.”
I looked at him. The most arrogant ass, sometimes, and
yet he can be so much more at other times. He looked
at me, and his ungloved hand moved towards my hair. A
lifetime later, his hand made contact, and I sighed
deeply – possibly my first real feeling of happiness
for a long time.
He looked into my eyes as his hand caressed my hair.
“Sasha, come back. Please. I will never make that same
mistake again. I know now that I’ve been foolish but
...”
And it was my turn to shush him up with my own index
finger on my own ungloved hand.
“Shhh...” I whispered as I wrapped my arms around his
neck. He closed his beautiful brown eyes and leaned in
just as I did the same.
I broke contact about ten short seconds later,
breathing rapidly. “No...No... I can’t do this, Bruce.
And neither can you.”
He looked at me with such confusion and hurt in his
eyes that with the emotions that were roaring in every
direction, I almost had a heart attack. “Sasha, I...”
“Bruce, I’m sorry,” I said, the tears betraying my
attempts to hide the hurt. “I should go.”
With that, I hit the emergency teleport signal button
on my watch. The room suddenly got bright as the
energy wave enveloped me and transported me to a
Checkmate safehouse. The last thing I saw was Bruce
reach out to me with his hand. I almost reached back.
It’s safe to say that I lost a great deal of
credibility in the organization. I made my excuses,
but I know they didn’t fall on sympathetic ears. They
felt I betrayed them. I probably did. But, this was
never about them, or about national security, or
anything. This was about me. About me being my own
person, about me being free from everyone.
At least, that’s what I tell myself, as I reach into my
pocket and pull out his black leather glove.