Title: One Night
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters for Batman Begins or The Dark Knight; I'm just borrowing them and throwing them in a blender. I hope you all like my smoothie.
Summary: A night they have both been waiting for, and a night that can only happen once. A filler between scenes of The Dark Knight.
It was something she always felt, but was never able to truly define. The view from the highest floor always took her breath away, and despite the danger she knew lurked amongst the streets hundreds of metres below, her breath caught yet again.
The many buildings surrounding her glinted, the sky above glowed, the streets were like Christmas lights. It was a sight that only night could offer; daytime would dawn on a city of no great beauty or brilliance.
She heard soft footsteps behind her and recognised his presence, despite not seeing him. She felt a shiver rush up her spine as she saw the small smile that he gave her as she turned to look at him. But her rush was followed by disdain as she recognised his pride and arrogance in knowing that she was here, in the safest place in the world. But she still couldn't prevent her heart from speeding.
Then, as he looked away from her, looked out to the city surrounding them, she felt reminded of the reason she was here. He didn't look at her at first, just spoke to the city, a city which he'd been trying to rectify, but a city that was turning against him with such force and determination it was astounding. Then he looked straight to her, and she realised he was moving onto a conversation that they had started but been unable to finish.
"You once told me that when Gotham didn't need Batman that we'd be together. Did you mean it?" He was so close to her, she could feel her knees tremble; feel her skin prickle, her lungs heave, her heart pound. She couldn't lie to him, it was impossible. In all the years that she had known him she couldn't recall once telling him a lie that he didn't notice, and she knew, she couldn't lie now.
"Yes." She could imagine the number of women in the world who would kill to have Bruce Wayne look at them in the way he was looking at her now, soft yet hungry. She knew, deep down, that he would never look at anyone in that same way, and it was a thought that comforted and unnerved her at the same time.
She shouldn't be feeling such things for a man she was not even involved with; Harvey Dent was the only person who was supposed to be able make her feel light-headed, safe and loved. But as he tilted his head and placed his lips on hers, she couldn't pull away. Instead she leaned into him, wishing that she could make the rest of the world disappear, wish that there was no such person as the Joker, that there had never been a Joe Chill.
And in some ways, in his kiss, she could feel those same feelings in him, and yet so much more. After some moments of bliss he pulled away and lightly pressed his forehead to hers, before stepping back and walking away, keeping his hand in hers until the last possible moment.
Her heart was pounding, but she refused to allow him to leave without knowing the truth. He deserved to know, otherwise who was she kidding? She couldn't lead the wealthiest man in Gotham, and the most powerful man along, tempting him with stories about a future. Of course she would be waiting for him; she had said it and she meant it. Being in his embrace was something she had desired for so many years that when it passed, she could think of nothing more than being in it again.
"Bruce;" he paused and turned slightly to face her. "If you turn yourself in they're not going to let us be together." She looked at him sadly, knowing that despite her feelings, and his own, his sense of duty was something that was more powerful than any of her words.
He nodded weakly and sadly in response and continued on his way, leaving her alone, leaving her to sob silently as an ache rose in her chest that she had never felt before. Covering her face in her hands she felt herself collapse to the ground in a silent fit of sobs. She was glad Bruce had gone; glad Alfred was elsewhere, she didn't want anyone to see her like this.
Maybe fate was telling her something. Maybe she wasn't destined to be Mrs. Bruce Wayne; maybe her life was bound to lead her in another direction. Whatever it was, she hated the masters of fate for leading her on for so long. Was this a punishment for something; other than her own playmaking with the two knights of Gotham? What offence had she made the universe, how had she displeased God that he had the right to force her to make a decision that no matter what would break one of the men she cared most for in the world?
After what felt like hours sobbing quietly on the hard and highly polished wooden floor, she kicked off her shoes, stood and went to Bruce's closet, seeking out the softest t-shirt she could find. After rummaging through some drawers, she finally found an old Princeton sweatshirt that went to her knees. Stripping quickly she pulled the shirt over her head, folded and stacked her own clothes on one of the surrounding chairs, and made herself comfortable amongst the 600+ thread count sheets. But sleep would not come.
Lying on her side she stared at the wall before her and began to imagine sheep jumping over her like they always used to do in the TV shows of her childhood. But still sleep did not come.
As she lay in the near darkness, she found her mind wandering to when Bruce would return to find her; to all the women he had brought here, all the nameless floozies who attracted his attention for a short while before he spotted the next fake tanned beauty. She wondered about his body, what it must look like, how he explained any scars.
It was with these thoughts that she heard him return. She leaned up to look at him when he spotted her whilst in the process of removing his tie. She watched as he paused mid-action, his jaw dropping slightly.
"I hope you don't mind." She said quietly as he removed himself from the shock of finding her in his bed, in an old t-shirt. Her imaginings of this moment had always gone quite differently to what was now happening.
She watched as he hung the tie over the closet door, kicked off his shoes, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves as he moved towards the bed.
"So men can multi-task." She couldn't help it. The silence was killing her. He looked up at her blankly, and then smiled, sitting on the bed beside her.
"Simple tasks, its easy. Pressing a mouse button at the same time as moving it; tying a tie as you walk out the door; kissing a woman whilst at the same time thinking how amazingly beautiful she looks in your own clothes." He spoke easily as he shrugged out of his jacket, throwing it onto the chair that held her clothes, but the last line made her blush, especially given he was staring straight at her as she said it.
Innumerable numbers of words came into her head as she bit her lip, but none of them found their way to her mouth, and then everything stopped when she felt his fingers at her cheek. She looked up at him and felt his fingers push hair off her face, gliding it back behind her ear, then his hand returning to her cheek, burning her as he stroked her skin with his thumb.
As she looked up and locked eyes with him, he looked away, before shrugging out of his shirt and making her gasp. Never had she imagined just how possible it was for a man to look so beaten yet continue on his crusade, ignoring the pain each wound was likely causing him.
There were burn marks on his back, a huge bruise just below his shoulder, a scar on his side and a stitched wound two inches long on his bicep. The sight of them all made her feel ill, imagining how it was possible for him to not wince as he moved. She reached out to touch the bruise at his shoulder, causing him to jump slightly at the contact, and causing her to pull her hand back quickly.
"Do they hurt?" She asked quietly, returning her hand to his arm, just above the gash.
He looked at her, then down to her hand on his arm. "Some do." He replied just as quietly. "Others are just visual; I don't know that they're there until I see their reflection in a mirror.
Without having full control over what she was doing she leaned forward towards him, bringing her other hand to his skin, making him reach for them both with his free hand.
"Your hands are cold." He whispers, turning slightly to look at her. She returns his gaze before he again looks away, dropping one of her hands and the other, holding in both his.
She can't say anything as she stares at both his hands clasping one of hers. She watches as he moves her hand to his lips separating her fingers and placing a soft kiss on the tip of each.
"That's better." He releases her hand but his gaze returns to her eyes, and now he can't look away. She leans closer to him, feels one of his hands return to her cheek, but stronger than before; he's pushing her away. "Don't." The word is barely audible but she hears it as clearly as if he had shouted it.
She doesn't pull away, but turns her head in his hand, placing a kiss on his palm. She feels his gaze scorch her features. She turns back to face him; his hand weakens against her, but she does not draw closer to him.
"Please?" She looks at him, and this time he is the one to lean forward, covering her mouth with his own, kissing her passionately.
His arms wrap around her, pulling her towards him as easily as if she was a tiny pebble. He shifts himself to be fully on the bed before collapsing down on top of her, still kissing her hungrily.
It's like a trigger in her brain is activated for her sense is no longer in control. Her long held desire for him invokes her primal instincts as she wraps her legs around his hips; his kisses are like a toxin that flows through her body, warming her instantly, and creating a hunger that only he can satisfy.
She groans as his hands cover her body along the outside of her shirt, before reaching her thighs, pulling it up and touching her skin. Then, pulling away from her he rolls back onto his ankles, taking her arms and pulling her up to him, returning his hands to where he left them, and returning his already swollen lips to hers.
She whimpers as his fingertips graze her sides, continually lifting the shirt from her body; she gasps as he brushes against her breasts, and lifting her arms, allows the shirt to fall in a pile beside the bed.
She cant recall the last time she was so desperate for a man, and is frustrated as he pauses to stare at her, taking in her nude body, silhouetted against the yellow glow of Gotham. He kisses her again, but softer, and she realises that what is happening is not something that can be only 5 minutes.
It is at this point that she realises he is still in his trousers, and as they kiss, she slides her hands down his torso, over his abs to his belt. It is already undone, so she goes straight to the button, and then his zip. He pushes her back and steps off the bed, removing his trousers and boxers at once. She watches him with anticipation, then, as he returns to her, welcomes his weight with pleasure.
He leans down to kiss her but stops, and focuses his eyes deep into hers. She can feel her heart jump as he gazes at her, stroking the side of her face, before softly kissing her, then moving down her body leaving a slow trail of light and feathery kisses. She squirms beneath him, eager with desire and anticipation.
He returns his mouth to hers and she can feel him hard against her thigh. She wants him completely; her entire body is screaming for him, and yet she is able to wait. As much as she has wanted this moment for years, she realises that it is something that he has wanted too.
Suddenly flashes of the times she pushed him away appear before her; when he was 'swimming' with two gorgeous women; when she attacked him for being ignorant to other people's plights before he disappeared; when she told him she couldn't be with him whilst he was Batman; at the fundraiser on the balcony. She can't help but allow a sob to escape her lips.
He stops kissing her, and looks at her. She can feel his body above her, warming her to her core; feel his desire. She touches his face and leans up, kisses him lightly.
"I'm sorry for pushing you away." She whispers; she knows now is not the time to have a deep and meaningful conversation, but she doesn't want him to feel like he is the one making her upset.
He shakes his head bewildered. "All the times in the past when I pushed you away. This could have happened so much sooner." She smiles at him weakly, as he kisses her again, harder. She groans throatily, opening herself to him properly, needing to feel him.
The sensations in her mind as his skin meets hers make her eyes go blind; set her skin on fire; arch her back up into him. She bites her lip, refusing to allow herself to fall so quickly. All the years of wanting this would be thrown into question, all the times when she wanted to throw herself at him.
She opens her eyes and finds herself able to see everything clearly. His face is directly above hers, his eyes so dark that they mirror her own. Inside her he pauses, and both realise their unconsummated desire was what created their initial premature feelings, and as he begins to move again, they both know that when their climaxes come, it will be worth the years of wait.
He kisses her again as he drives himself into her creating such rhythm that has her squirming and whimpering. He moves his lips to her neck, sucking and biting her skin, forcing her voice to become heard; he wants to hear her scream, and knows that no-one will hear it but him.
She doesn't disappoint him, each thrust sees her breathing become deeper, her whimpers and groans become louder; each thrust he can see her eyes return to the darkness they held when he first entered her.
Feeling him inside her is like nothing she's ever felt. Feeling complete is not the correct word, its too light, too minimal. As the speed quickens and she feels her insides begin to burn in spasms and waves of pleasure her mind goes blank to the utter perfection and unity they are both now sharing.
As she screams out his name, feeling every muscle in her loins tighten and release in sporadic spasms; feeling him deep inside her, deeper than she ever thought she could be penetrated, experience his own climax before collapsing on top of her, she feels entire. As they lie together, in perfect harmony, each still breathing deeply, she feels the heartache of rejecting him amongst the ruins of Wayne Manor. She will always remember how she felt when she first kissed him, how similar it was to her feelings now.
He rolls off of her, and stares up at the ceiling before shifting onto his side and pulling her tight to him. She wishes that this didn't have to be something that was only one night, because she knows that when the dawn comes, he will be arrested for being Batman, and she will probably never see him again.
Neither of them speak as he keeps his arms wrapped tight around her, and she knows that he is thinking the same thing. She watches him as he begins to fall asleep, watches as his breathing becomes smooth. Watching him she realises what she has just done. She looks up to the ceiling and wonders how she can live her life with Harvey, knowing what she has just shared.
She wipes away the tear before it can fall and pushes the thought from her mind. Turning over in Bruce's arms, she forces herself to sleep, imagining a world where there was no Batman, and where she slept like this every night.
I hope you all enjoyed it. As always, please remember to review!