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chapter thirty-two ━ fear ignited

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❝ what are you afraid of? ❞

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if you guys don't comment like crazy, i'm going to be pissed, lmao. i've been writing this for three days and it turned out to be 7,000+ words, so please show some love

OBTAINING A GUN was an easy feat. Almost too easy. Then again, Gotham was swarming with criminals, crimes being committed left and right, endless amounts of weapons and drugs flooding the dirty, busy streets. All she had to do was approach one of Selina's trusted contacts, pay fifty bucks she got from stealing from rich people's pockets as they strolled down the street, and the gun was her's to keep for as long as she pleased. Even walking to the alleyway she was supposed to meet Bruce in was easy. Everything was easy, to the point where it was sickening. No one passing by her would have guessed she was carrying an item that could take a life. No one bothered glancing in her direction, the fame that her brother's death brought onto her now faded away, much to her delight.

As she walked past countless strangers, she wondered if they knew she had blood on her hands. And now she was going to have more. The second she handed over the gun to Bruce, the death of the man who killed his parents would weigh not only on his shoulders but on her's too. Because she was providing the weapon and he was pulling the trigger. If she had decided not to give it to him, the man might have lived. He was still alive though, she knew that much. Maybe he wouldn't kill him, maybe he'd change his mind. Either way, she told herself that she was going to be supportive.

He deserved revenge, he deserved to stare that man right in the eye as he pulled the trigger. So, if she really thought that, why did the gun weigh so heavy in her pocket? All those times before she would carry around a weapon, she never felt as if boulders were trying to crush her. It was always light, reassuring. Perhaps it was because she knew that in her possession was the weapon that would make Bruce Wayne a murder. Deep down it didn't feel right. Him? A killer? The thought would have never crossed her mind, he just wasn't the type, he wasn't.

It was too late to turn back and at this point, she was sure that if she turned around now and never handed over the gun, he would find one on his own, going to lengths that could potentially harm him. He couldn't defend himself. Bruce was nothing but the heir to a fortune. he did not know how to fight. Not yet at least. Still, he had morals. And she had been positive that those morals ruled out killing, deemed it unnecessary and cruel. She was wrong. Because here she was, leaning back against a brick wall in an ally, hands in her pockets, listening to the cars drive by, the stray cats roaming around, and the occasional sound of sirens flying past.

Skylar waited, the time passing by slow, her heart tugging on her like a small child would, trying to get her attention while her mind attempted to shut it up. The latter won as she stayed standing there, head leaning back against the damp brick, eyes shut. Eventually, there was the quiet sound of shoes hitting the wet pavement, a clear indication that it had rained the night prior.

Any normal civilian would assume it was some stranger coming to rob them. She knew better. She pushed herself away from the wall with her right foot, opening her eyes to see Bruce, dressed nicely compared to her worn-out leather jacket and tight leather pants. Her boots were new though, stolen of course. The shirt she wore underneath her jacket had some dried blood stains on it from when she had stupidly chosen to teach herself how to spin a knife in both her hands, cutting her palm which then touched her shirt. He didn't bring it up, stopping in front of her as they came to stand in front of one another.

"Did you bring it?"

"Depends, you still want it?"

Bruce nodded, not providing a verbal reply. Skylar pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, hesitant, unsure of whether she should give it to him or not. Her hand moved without her permission, reaching into the back of her shirt where the gun was waiting. She presented it to him, holding it out flat in her hand. His eyes went a little wide, a subtle reaction, but still noticeable.

"Look, if any part of you isn't absolutely one-hundred percent okay with this, I won't give it to you," she warned, her tone showing just how serious she was about the matter. He knew that, because he knew her, knew that she would up and leave if he continued showing uncertainty.

"I want it," he replied firmly, staring down at it. "Is it loaded?"

"Of course it is, why wouldn't it be?" she questioned, giving him a confused look, studying him. He didn't look scared, but looks could be deceiving. Besides, he had always been good at covering up how he really felt. So she was left to stare, the gun still in her palm. "Would you please take it, my arm is starting to hurt."

Bruce grabbed it and quickly put it where she had hidden it on her body. He fixed his shirt and coat before looking back up at her, clearing his throat. They kept standing there, saying nothing to each other. The awkward silence stretched out and it was beginning to get uncomfortable, more for her than it was for him it seemed.

"Did you need something else?" she asked slowly, her shoulders rising and falling after she said that. She arched a brow when he paused, his mouth opening to reply but nothing came out. "Spit it out, Wayne."

"I want you to come with me to kill him," he blurted out, speaking too loud. Some people passing by turned their heads, glancing down the ally at them. She rushed forward, grabbing his arm and roughly pulled him to the side, the dumpsters blocking anyone from seeing them.

"Keep your voice down! Do you want to get arrested?" Skylar prayed that no one cared enough to come over and see what they were up to. She didn't particularly want cops on their tail and she was not interested in being thrown in jail for helping commit a murder.

He realized his mistake, casting a quick look around the dumpsters, making sure no one was walking over. Once he felt content in the thought that no one was coming, he looked back at her. "Will you come with me or not?"

Skylar scoffed and shook her head in disbelief. "Bruce, do you even realize what you're saying. You are going to murder someone in cold blood. You could get thrown in prison if you're caught!"

"Juvie actually," he corrected, making her glare at him heatedly, not at all amused by his response.

"This isn't something to joke about," she pointed out, getting ticked off. "You're going to take someone's life. That will always weigh you down and to be honest, I don't think you can handle that." He looked away, jaw clenching. She sighed, closing her eyes so she could calm down a bit. The second she was, she reopened her eyes, the lack of sunlight making it easy for her eyes to adjust. "All I'm saying is that you will become different because of this. You don't have a single bad bone in your body, you're kind, caring, forgiving, and understanding. Taking a life could change that and as selfish as it may sound, I don't want you to change."

The confession came easier than she thought it would, rolling off her tongue and falling off her lips before she could stop it. Skylar cleared her throat to rid of the awkwardness that her words left, crossing her arms over her chest. He didn't say anything and she didn't blame him. Never had she been so forward before, so blunt and honest about what she truly wanted. It was a strange feeling because now she felt lighter, happier, and only because she told him that. Something as simple as telling him she didn't want him to change made her smile, though it did not show on her face.

He finally looked back over, looking as if he were debating on what to say. "I still want to do it, I need to. You don't have to come with me, I understand the risk you will taking if you do." He took a step toward her, their eyes meeting. "Thank you for being honest." Then he leaned forward and kissed her cheek, stepping away, and then walked back the way he came.

She let go of a breath she didn't know she was holding, it coming out in a puff of air in front of her face. Now that he was gone, she felt lonely, the happiness dissolving into nothing. Skylar walked out to the middle of the ally, looking in the direction he went, seeing the back of him for a split second as he turned the corner, going left. This was her chance: either go with him or stay behind and pray she didn't see his face on the news with the words 'killed' or 'murdered' above it.

A deep sigh sounded around her as she made her decision. And she hoped she made the right one.

---

The kid was fast, unexpectedly fast. Skylar tried to catch up with him but she ended up losing sight of him, causing her to retreat for the time being. She did try calling, no answer, texting, and no answer. But, after roughly two hours passed, he called her back, explaining how Alfred had gone with him to find Malone, only to stumble across a gang she had never heard of. He mentioned something about a cupcake and then Alfred getting beaten up by said cupcake which made no sense to her. Then he told her how they had a location, just that the butler was now in the hospital after winning the fight.

She made her way to the shabby, untrustworthy hospital, arriving to see nothing but elderly people who were beyond sick, coughing into rags. Homeless possibly? It seemed likely given their attire, which contrasted heavily with her own clothing, which suddenly appeared to be in much better condition compared to theirs. She ducked her head, dashing by the civilians until she came to the room Bruce told her they were in.

Skylar opened the door, drawing attention to herself. Alfred had dried blood near his nostrils, bruises littering his cheek and jaw. Bruce stood by the bed, wearing the same coat he had been wearing earlier. From the looks of it, his guardian had no clue that the kid he was meant to look after, was carrying a gun underneath his attire.

"Ah, so that's who you were texting then," Alfred spoke, sound drowsy. His eye fluttered a bit. "Miss, will you do me a favor and make sure Master B stays right here?"

"I uh. . ." she trailed off, looking to Bruce who gave her a slight look. It took her a moment but then she understood. He was about to fall unconscious, that's why he sounded like that. And the second he fell asleep, they could sneak away and go find Malone themselves. ". . .sure, yeah I will. But did you seriously get beat up by a cupcake?"

The two males laughed, Alfred more so which only prompted him further into unconsciousness. His eyes closed and then reopened, almost like he was fighting to stay awake. It would have been amusing, if the circumstances were different, of course.

"It's a nickname for the guy who is buddy-buddy with Malone." His eyes stayed closed for longer before opening again. "Promise me, Miss?"

Skylar felt a twinge of guilt for lying to him, going to speak but then she stopped herself. Alfred's eyes were officially closed, his body still. He was asleep. She looked to Bruce who withdrew the gun, examining it in his palm.

"Come on," she spoke up, making him look at her, pocketing the weapon. "We need to get going before he wakes up." Bruce nodded and she did so back. He walked towards her, making a move to leave the room but she held out her arm in front of his path, stopping him. "Once we do this, there's no going back."

"I know."

She moved her arm, following him out of the room. They left through the back door, stepping into a dimly lit ally. The sun was setting and judging by the speed at which they were walking, it would be dark by the time they reached the address Cupcake gave. She didn't have the address herself, so Bruce led the way. And sure enough, after about forty-five minutes of walking, the sun was gone, leaving them in darkness, the only source of light coming from the pale street lights and the moon.

Skylar pulled her leather jacket closer to her body, shivering. Bruce instantly noticed, moving to take off his coat and give it to her. "Nope, nope, nope, don't even think about pulling that rom-com bullshit move on me. I'm fine, it's just that this jacket is a bit thin, even though it's leather."

He frowned at her denial but did not argue or force her to take his coat. They made it to the end of the street before he actually said something. Well, more like blurted something out just as he had done in the ally.

"We never talked about it."

"Talked about what?"

"Well, we uh. . .we kissed."

Oh. That. Skylar licked her lips, color instantly tinting her cheeks. So much had been going on that she completely forgot that had happened. They kissed. But nothing came after that, no date, no other kiss, just nothing. She hadn't put much thought into it really. It was just a kiss, nothing special.

"Yeah? And?"

Bruce was not expecting that answer or reaction from her. She was so nonchalant about it and she knew that. What else was there to say? It wasn't like he intended to form a romantic relationship with her and even if he did, it wouldn't be a good idea. She wasn't good for him. He deserved someone better, someone, who could make him happy, someone who was normal. She was sure as hell far from that.

He sped up, stopping right in front of her. "We kissed, Skylar." The brunette sighed and avoided eye contact. "It meant something, I know it did. There's something between us whether you like it or not. Otherwise, you wouldn't have kissed me."

"It was just one kiss!" she exclaimed, her voice growing in volume. "Newsflash, you weren't my first kiss, Bridget Pike was, and just so you are aware, I'm a bisexual mess, I like boys and girls, but I am nowhere near capable of being a good girlfriend. So yeah, we kissed, it was nice, but that's all it was, so stop reaching."

She honestly expected him to let it go like he usually did. However, he seemed to have other ideas. When she went to step forward and brush past him, he blocked her path again by stepping to the side. An instant scowl formed on her features.

"If you think any of that changes my mind about you, then you're wrong. I like you, Skylar. And I know what you are trying to do: you're trying to push me away because you don't want to admit that a part of you likes me. You're scared of commitment and that's okay. I just. . ."

"You just what?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders, her walls building up, higher and higher.

"I just want you to know that I care about you, deeply." She rolled her eyes so he kept going, trying to convince her that he was telling the truth. "I can't stop thinking about you. When I was gone, all I could think about was how I never said goodbye. I wrote a whole apology because I felt terrible about it." He paused, watching as she refused to look at him. "I can't imagine doing any of this without you."

Skylar crossed her arms over her chest, not knowing what to say to that. He practically confessed that he wanted her. No one had ever wanted her as something more than a friend, no one ever expressed that at least. Yet here Bruce Wayne was. And she was terrified.

"We gonna get this Malone guy or not?"

With that, she successfully passed by him, hearing him sigh, picturing his eyes shutting, upset by her lack of reaction. She did feel bad, she did, but she'd never tell him that. He knew that though because he knew her well enough to know that she was holding back how she truly felt.

---

The address led them to a club of all places. Skylar was wary, having never been in one before and she was not keen on hearing the booming music or seeing sketchy couples making out in the shadows of the room or dealing with the flashing lights. She hoped there were no strippers because she wasn't sure she could handle watching men be disgusting perverts. The strippers weren't the problem, the men were.

A man stood at the entrance, arms clasped in front of him. He was bulky, definitely the type to be a security guard. Shit. Putting on a false, sweet smile wasn't all that hard but persuading him would be. Bruce approached him with her, the two coming to stop in front of him. Before she could say something, he greeted, "Hey cowboy. . .cowgirl."

"Yes, sir," Bruce responded with the utmost politeness a person could muster. And it worked because the man smiled widely.

"Have fun."

Skylar couldn't help but smirk, walking past him, the billionaire boy right behind her. Together they entered the room, making their way down two flights of stairs before they stumbled across the main floor of the club. Sure enough, there was a couple kissing by the staircase, red and green lights blinding her, the music deafening.

There was a woman with short, white hair singing on the stage. Behind her was a screen, flashing pictures. She attempted to figure out what it was until she saw him. Her heart dropped, traveling all the way to her stomach while her blood ran cold. Her body froze up, her eyes glued to the images, watching the words appear and then vanish.

Jerome.

"Sky? Sky?"

She snapped out of her trance, turning her head to look at Bruce. Absolute horror coated her expression. She looked around the room, finally realizing what the people around them were wearing: straight-jackets, fake GCPD uniforms, fake Arkham uniforms, and the guy playing the guitar on stage wore a jacket similar to the one Jerome wore when he tried blowing up the bus full of cheerleaders.

This wasn't just a regular club. It was a cult. More specifically, it was a cult based around her deceased brother. And they walked right into their den.

Bruce was petrified as well, holding onto her arm, almost as if he were afraid they would be separated. It didn't matter because they were starting to draw attention to themselves as people looked over, speaking to someone close by them. They weren't staring at him though. No. . .they were staring at her. Many of them appeared to be surprised, pleased even. And then suddenly a video of her and Bridget taking down the men who ran that place who sold women played on the screen, only, the camera seemed trained on her, zooming in on her, blocking Bridget out.

Cheers erupted through the room as if they had all been there, encouraging her to tear the men apart. It occurred to her that these people weren't just celebrating Jerome, they were celebrating her, worshipping her. Some females in the room were sporting clothing that matched her own, leather jackets, pants, and boots, their hair in two-braids.

A strange feeling passed over her and her once fast-beating heart slowed down, stopping at a relaxed rate. She no longer felt as if she were being suffocated and she realized her anxiety had spiked up. Slowly, she was brought back down to Earth, her senses becoming aware as she came face to face with the woman who had been singing on stage.

Her face was painted a chalky white, red lipstick stretching into a bigger smile on her lips, a collar around her throat. She was grinning at her, ecstatic from the looks of it.

"What took you so long, Skylar? We've been waiting for you for ages!"

Skylar didn't know how to reply, her eyes moving from her's, glancing at all the other people that gathered around them. It was Bruce who spoke up, stepping forward, blocking her view of the woman.

"We're here to see Jeri."

"That you are," the female hummed, not sounding pleased that she was being interrupted from talking to the only living, breathing female Valeska. "Follow me." She turned on her heel, walking to the back of the club. The followers created a pathway across the dance floor, allowing them passage.

Skylar was the first to start walking, ignoring the stares. Bruce stayed close by her, even when they entered a much smaller room, most likely V.I.P. They stepped through a curtain of red beads, entering an extremely dark hallway. only lit by crimson lights. She guessed that red was a common theme. There were girls dressed in little clothes, glasses of alcohol in their hands. Doors lined the right side of the hallway, moaning and whipping sounds coming from them.

She wasn't naive, she knew what this area was. She offered a tiny smile to the girls as she passed by them, getting winks and beautiful laughter in return, that made her smile broaden. Most people had a negative view of females who became strippers or prostitutes. Sure, some of them were probably bad people, but not all of them were. In her opinion, she admired them. They had massive amounts of confidence and beauty. Besides, it took guts to have a job like that, it took bravery.

The white-haired woman noticed her silent exchange with some of the workers, smirking as she made her way up to some stairs. Skylar could practically feel Bruce's embarrassment radiating, causing her to suppress a laugh. Finally, they came to an office, the door closing behind them.

"Come," the woman waved. "Take a pew. Iced tea? Soda?"

She laughed right as Bruce replied, "No thank you" and she responded with, "No thanks." His eyes wandered around, drinking in all of the posters, writing, and random shit all over the place. Skylar, on the other hand, kept looking at her, eyes narrowing just a bit.

"Did you like the show?"

"I liked it," Bruce told her. Whether it was being honest or not, she didn't know.

"I wasn't asking you, but thanks."

Skylar felt his eyes go to her, waiting to see what she would say. Instead of answering the question, her lips curved up into an amused smirk. "You're Jeri, aren't you?" And she was rewarded with a chuckle as the woman sat down on the stool next to a makeup vanity.

"Some people call me that. So, what can I do for you two?"

"You clearly were expecting us, so I'm assuming the Cupcake guy called you. You know exactly why we're here." The brunette crossed her arms over her chest. "We're looking for Matches Malone, he killed his parents." She jabbed a thumb over to the only male in the room. "So, you know where to find him or not?"

Jeri laid back against the vanity. "I do. But what do you two plan on doing to him when you find him?"

Bruce came forward, a rather serious look on his face. "Ask him some questions. . .kill him."

Now that made Jeri laugh, covering her mouth with her hand which donned a black, finger-less glove. Skylar smirked again, biting her lip as she looked away. The woman shook her hand in front of her face, calming down. "Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Killing people isn't, you know, that easy. Hey, maybe you've killed people before. You killed people before, blood?"

"No. But no one's killed my parents before."

Jeri nodded slowly, seemingly weighing her options. "Well, Matches has killed dozens of people. Men, women, and children." She spun around in her chair, grabbing a handkerchief. "He's a professional. And what, exactly, are you?"

There was silence as the woman fixed her makeup, oddly calm about the situation. Then again, Skylar knew that they looked just like kids, posing no actual threat according to adults. Before Bruce could come up with a lame, unconvincing answer, she provided, "He has a gun, I have a knife."

Jeri smiled and pointed at their reflection in the mirror. "That's a good reason."

Bruce took the gun out from where it was tucked into his pants, hidden by his coat, while Skylar pulled out a knife from her boot, the band-aid she put over her cut pathetically hanging on. They stood side by side, not appearing as menacing as she wished they were. Because then they would have gotten the actual address already and been sent on their merry way.

"Why bother worshipping me alongside my brother? I haven't done the things he's done before."

Jeri thought about that for a second, poking her tongue into the inside of her cheek. "Jerome was a spark, inspired many of us to value chaos and hate control. Even though he blew up things and had a flair for the dramatics, when it came to you, he put you above all that, he worshipped you, anyone could see that. He saw that you had the potential to be as great as him, made sure everyone knew it." She pointed her handkerchief at her. "Though we all favor chaos, we all need motivation. Jerome dies and suddenly the motivation ends. But when your face appeared on that screen, you and your friend burning up all those men, suddenly the motivation sparked again. You, Skylar Valeska, are on the road to becoming the most influential person in Gotham. That is why we worship you."

Skylar managed to keep a straight face, shrugging her shoulders, acting as if she didn't care. "Alright then, if you want to follow me, tell us where Malone is."

"Come on, kids. He ain't even pointing it at me!" Jeri laughed loudly, shaking her head at them, completely avoiding answering the question. "What is your problem?"

"I've been told it's unwise to point a gun at someone if you're not ready to shoot them," Bruce answered honestly. "And I'm not."

Something about what he said made Jeri intrigued, point her finger at him again. "Very wise young man." She turned back to the mirror, fixing her blood-red lipstick. "Matches lives in that big building on Grand Street between 9th and 10th. Apartment 9B."

"What changed your mind?" Skylar wondered, pocketing her knife as Bruce did the same with his gun. She moved towards the door, getting ready to leave the second Jeri answered her. First, she dodged answering even when she brought out the cult loving her, and now she suddenly replied with ease, and without a trace of guilt. "Thought you two were buddies?"

"He is. Well, he was." She grinned. "Matches is gonna be happy to see you, Bruce. Though the girl may be on the road to fame, you, my boy, are the childish hand of fate. Well, that makes me God in a way, doesn't it?" She laughed at the irony. "And who doesn't like to play God?"

Without replying, they left the room, making their way back to the crowd, the atmosphere in the room entirely different from when they first walked in. It was sensual, uncomfortable for them both. She shoved people out of the way, sidestepping whenever someone would try grabbing her. Bruce was close, just as he had been the whole night. Their adventure was coming to a close but she felt different, wary. She was going to help take another life without being the one to pull the trigger. Last time it felt powerful, this time it felt wrong.

"Skylar! Bruce!"

Her head snapped to the side to see Jim. "Shit!" Then someone grabbed her arm gently but still grabbed it, sending her into a panic. "Get off of me!"

"Skylar, calm down."

Damon. Bastard. She groaned in annoyance, snatching her arm from his kind grip, glaring at the adults. Bruce stood slightly in front of her, standing his ground. The detectives blocked their path, keeping them from escaping their sights. She wouldn't use her knife on them but the temptation was prominent.

"Listen to me," Jim started, looking straight at the billionaire boy. "I know what you're doing. Alfred told me everything. I understand how you feel." The teens both gave him an unimpressed look, so he backtracked. "Okay, I don't. And it doesn't matter. This is as far as you go. We're gonna take over from here. We can't let you do this."

"Skylar, can we please talk outside?" Damon asked in a low voice, sounding just like a dad. And she had about enough of those things.

"Why don't you fuck off and stop pretending like you give a shit about me?" she retorted, making him shake his head, opening his mouth to defend himself most likely. She wouldn't let him. She was done letting adults control and ruin her life, time and time again. "Hey, guys!" The music stopped instantly and heads turned their way. "We got some cops here. Why don't we give them a warm welcome?"

Screams and cheers sounded through the room, drowning out their conversation. The music started back up, but this time was hardcore rock, blaring in her ears. The crowd snatched Damon and Jim, yanking them back and then picked them up, the countless hands carrying them through the room like a tidal wave. The two called after the kids, only to get ignored.

Bruce and Skylar turned simultaneously, dashing out of the club before they could be stopped.

---

The apartment complex was strikingly similar to Ed's that she - for a second - thought they were at the same complex. She quickly realized her mistake. Most places in Gotham looked the same anyway: dirty, dim, sketchy, and lonely. This building, much like others on the street, was forgotten, unimportant. It honestly looked like shit, the paint peeling, the old wood floors creaking with every step they took. No one was lingering in the hallways which she considered a win. Still, that only added to the empty feeling the building gave.

When they finally reached the door, Bruce froze. It was painted a forest green color, the number and letter 9B a silver hue, some patches missing paint. The door was ordinary but what was waiting behind it was far from it. She could feel how scared he was, how nervous he was. The nonchalant facade he had created that lasted through the night had ultimately faded, leaving behind the scared little boy who watched his parents get brutally murdered.

"Do you want me to go with you?" she whispered, standing behind him to give him space.

He almost didn't reply, too caught up in his own thoughts and emotions. He cleared his throat and shook his head.

"This is something I need to do alone."

Skylar accepted that, nodding as she walked over to sit across from the door, but scooted so she was not in sight when the man opened the door, yet close enough to intervene if anything happened. "I'll be right here when you come back." There was no reply from him and she didn't need one.

He knocked. Held his breath. Stared as infinite emotions swarmed in his eyes. Footsteps. The door opened. Though she couldn't see the man, she could see the look on Bruce's face. His eyes watered and he was rendered speechless. This was definitely the man.

"Matches Malone?" Bruce spoke, confirming that it was him. He stuttered a bit which was no surprise. "I want to hire you." Then he stepped into the room, the door shutting behind him.

She was wrapped in silence, her gaze moving to the wall in front of her. She stretched her legs out, her head falling back against the wall directly behind her. A sigh escaped from her lips. Could he really kill someone? Could he truly pull the trigger? She was not sure and that frightened her. Bruce didn't seem like the type and yet here she was, waiting for that shot to ring out.

Ten minutes passed and still nothing. Her heart hammered in her chest, her palms beginning to sweat. How long was too long? Surely he would have killed Malone by now and yet it had been eerily silent. For an old complex, she didn't hear a thing, not even yelling or a bed smacking against the wall. Absolutely nothing.

Five more minutes passed and the door opened. Skylar jumped onto her feet, watching Bruce appear, empty-handed. She was perplexed, blinking, trying to figure out what to say.

"Where is he?"

"He's in there."

His eyes were red and his cheeks were wet, all signs of crying. Though she had blown him off earlier about the topic of romance and dating, that didn't mean she was heartless. She stepped forward and wrapped him in his arms. He embraced it, sniffling, but not crying. He felt small, fragile in her hold. She had always assumed he was the stronger of them. But at the moment, he felt completely and utterly small.

Jim and Damon came running around the corner, seeing them both. Skylar looked up at them, rolling her eyes. Perfect timing.

"He's in-"

A shot was fired. Bruce let go of her, the group looking over at the apartment, the door still wide open. The adults sprinted into the room, leaving them there. She was gaping in shock, her eyes wide. She was no fool, she knew what had happened and he did too. Then again, should they be surprised? Matches Malone killed men, women, and children for a living. He was a hitman, a killer. Each day he had to live with those deaths on his shoulders and that was bound to do something to a person.

Skylar took his hand, guiding him down the hallway and out of the building. Bruce followed blindly, allowing her to do as she pleased. She realized that her unsure feeling that hadn't gone away all night until that very moment, was none other than fear. Sure, she may have thought it was but she could not figure out the source.

The fear stemmed from the fact that Bruce Wayne could get blood on his hands. Killing Galavan was thrilling because it was revenge. Jim had the killing blow, he was the murderer in the sense that he was the person who ended Galavan's life. He already had killed, shooting criminals, putting them down for good. He could be ruthless and cruel to those who deserved it.

Bruce was pure because he had never taken a life or hurt anyone. He was not made for killing, it wasn't in his nature, it just wasn't. He was kind, caring, thoughtful, and human. His parents were murdered and all he ever did after that was find the man who took them from him. It was normal for him to want to go after Malone for it. Killing was another thing entirely. And in the end, he couldn't go through with it.

The reason she felt fearful was more for a selfish reason, one she had not wanted to admit to herself ever. Her entire life was full of violence and hatred. There was no light, not a single speck. There was no hope for a better life. And she grew up with thinking she'd never be content. The only love she knew was the love of a sibling. A mother's love was foreign to her, a father's love was foreign to her, so that meant love from someone who wanted her in a romantic way was foreign.

She was scared of the idea of belonging to someone, of someone depending on her, of someone being devoted to her. The cult followers didn't love her like that, they merely respected her. Bridget may have loved her, maybe, but not in a deep, passionate way. And Bridget wasn't pure. She was another soul corrupted by evil. Even Selina was but the feline-female didn't love her like that either.

Bruce was the embodiment of light. Though he had his moments, he still reminded loyal to her. He made her happy, made her feel things she hasn't before. Because he was a good person, he was human. Despite witnessing death, evil never overcame him, and he had yet to give in to the darkness. The man who killed his parents stared him straight in the eye and he still didn't pull the trigger. Because he was just a boy, a broken one who managed a smile during the worst of times and gave her hope.

She realized now that the reason she had pushed him away and the reason she had been fearful, was that a part of her saw a future with him, a part of her wanted a future with him. Perhaps it was just a silly fantasy, her brain's way of making sense of all of the wickedness in her life. Either way, she needed him. She needed him to keep brightening her world. She needed him to stay pure-hearted.

Because the second he gave in to evil, was the second she lost all faith in ever being happy.

---

The door opened, revealing a woman wearing a red silk shirt, black tight jeans, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail. The only makeup on her face was some mascara and winged eyeliner that made her eyes pop. Skylar extended the piece of paper to her.

"Do hope the offer still stands," she said casually, the invitation being taken from her hands.

"It does. . .but I don't recall him ever being part of it," Charlotte hummed, tapping the parchment against her hand. She narrowed her eyes at Bruce who wore a different coat from earlier, one that could easily pass as a normal citizen's. Selina lingered behind them, tapping her foot impatiently against the perfectly placed wood.

"We're a package. You get all of us or none of us."

Charlotte smirked at that and then moved to the side, opening her door wider, outstretching her arm. "Well, in that case, come in." They did and she closed the door behind them.

Skylar had trouble concealing her amazement. The loft was gorgeous. It felt airy due to the amount of space there was. Windows that stretched from the ceiling to the floor went across many of the walls, with the exception of the kitchen which was visible from the entrance. There was modern furniture, white a main color throughout.

Selina made herself at home, flopping down onto the couch, kicking her feet up on the glass coffee table. Charlotte surprisingly didn't scold her, walking to the kitchen and checked on some cookies she was making. Skylar stepped farther into the room, setting her bag down by the couch. Bruce was the only one who didn't move.

"Don't be shy, billionaire boy," the female Cobblepot spoke in a singsong tone. "You guys will have to share the guest room and one of you will have to sleep on the couch unless you three want to share the bed?"

"I'll take the couch," Bruce told her, moving to the living room and took a seat on the other couch she had.

Skylar took off her boots, walking barefoot over to the bar, sitting at one of the stools. Charlotte took off her kitchen mitten, grabbing a spatula, setting the cookies onto a white porcelain plate that had an outline of a bird. She put the plate on the bar near the teen, waving a hand towards it.

"Help yourselves, you seem like you've had quite the day."

Selina came running, snatching two and messily bit into one of them. Bruce stayed on the couch, dozing off into space. He didn't come to join them and they didn't tell him too. Charlotte left the room, disappearing into a hallway which left them alone. Skylar chewed on a cookie slowly, staring at him.

And just like that, her fear ignited.

---

I feel dead (:

My ass has been writing this chapter for three days and it turned out to be one of the longest chapters of this book so far. I'm proud though, extremely so. You got to see a lot more into Skylar and her thought process which was thrilling to write, but also upsetting because this girl hasn't even gone through the massive stuff yet.

But please, I beg, comment on this chapter because it's long and I worked hard.

Okay, so this is my last prewritten chapter, meaning it will be a bit until the next chapter is posted. Please bear with me!

I hope you guys have a great day/night and don't forget to vote on this chapter, comment your thoughts, and follow me for updates!

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