A Confidante

[Bruce Wayne]

The lights at Gotham City Stadium blared in full force to illuminate the baseball diamond below them. With the game well into the ninth innings and the home team up by a whopping 10 runs, the crowd was extremely appreciative. The front sections of the stands were full to the brim with rowdy teens with nothing better to do on a Tuesday night, with the more hard-core fans having sat back a ways to enjoy the full view of the game and with the staunch hopes of being the ones lucky enough to catch a fly ball or two. The upper levels of the bleachers were not totally protected by the light. The upper levels of the bleachers were fair game for underhanded activity. But not tonight. Tonight there was someone watching.

In the light of recent troubles, the handful of younger cops on the force at Gotham PD were a miracle. Most of them ran when the going got tough, or got tough when it began to pay off. Most of them were thrillseeking, or wanting to get rich if they lived long enough to see a dime or two thrown their way in exchange for granting privileges to the right people. Then there were a few, like Susanna Gossamer, who were a little hard to peg. Batman liked to do his homework, and what little information he could find about Susanna had him hoping for the best. 5 or so years as a cop - clean record. Working in homicide, with her father battling it out in the Organized Crime Division. He had been following her on silent feet for the better part of a fortnight. He hoped she could be trusted.

Luckily she was sitting in a lesser-used part of the bleachers. It was easy to move up on her from behind, and he slotted himself effortlessly into the seat behind her before he leaned in close, being mindful not to invade her personal space. "Don't turn around and don't make any sudden moves," he warned her in a low, graveled voice. "You'll attract attention, and I need to speak to you. I'm not going to hurt you, Detective."

[Susanna Gossamer]

To say that Susanna and her new acquaintance were starting off on the wrong foot would be an understatement. There she was, enjoying a rare night off, happily watching the Gotham Rockems beat the tar out of the Metropolis Liberties. It was a great night, a fantastic night, and she was looking forward to going into the station tomorrow and bragging to her coworkers about the game they had missed. But in Gotham City, it would be too much for a night to go off entirely without a hitch. Just as she was sitting back from a ruckus cheer, that's when the disembodied voice broke in. And the disembodied voice took all of the fun right out of the night and sent her bragging rights buzzing around the cheering stadium like a balloon on its deflation flight.

It was bad from the start. "Don't turn around and don't make any sudden moves." She knew better from her training than to disobey, but to be given orders such as those made her ire rise anyway. Her muscles instinctively tensed and the smile she had been harboring ever since the Rockems got their first run slowly sank into a frown. Because she could not turn around, she glanced quickly around her, searching her environment for any tools she could use, particularly reflective surfaces that might grant her a glimpse at her new company. Without anything to help her along, she was forced to make conjectures of her own. Detective, he had called her, so he was aware of her identity. That narrowed down the list of suspects, but unfortunately where she was concerned the number of people who might want a 'private word' with her was too long to consider that much of a help.

Running her tongue across the front of her teeth and pursing her lips in a way that bespoke her barely restrained temper, Susie did the only thing she could do. "You have my attention," she conceded, clapping for the new batter as he stepped up to the plate, though her thoughts were pinned resolutely to the mysterious man behind her.

[Bruce Wayne]

Undeniably pleased that she was cooperating, Detective Gossamer was fast gaining points. It was not unsimilar to the way his relationship with Gordon had begun, and the man behind the mask was not such a fool as to think he was in any way trusted. In fact, he would have been sorely disappointed if he had been. He wanted Susanna to be constantly questioning her surroundings. It would keep her sharp. And in this cesspool city, it would keep her alive. The PD was still crooked, and he needed it to be straight.

As her applause drifted with forced normality into the surrounding air, he began to relax a very little. Green eyes that were darkened by the mask enveloping them flicked left and right; a pre-emptory sweep of the perimetre to ensure that they wouldn't be overheard. Satisfied that they could speak openly, he remained in position. His haunted gaze returned, taking in the coppery tendrils of her hair. "Good. We don't have long. I'm a friend." It would be a hard pill to swallow. Bruce Wayne didn't have many friends who would show up behind him and tell him not to move an inch. But cest la vie.

"There's a deal going down tomorrow night on the West docks. A huge deal. I've got three names. Larsen. Briggs. Mundy." He paused, allowing her well trained mind time for retention. "Over 20 million dollars worth of dust will be coming in. If you set up the bust and bring them in, I can promise you some help."

[Susanna Gossamer]

She listened silently, her well-ordered mind running through protocol and possibilities like an oiled machine. Anonymity was an issue. It wasn't uncommon for people to want to leave anonymous tips but police were always encouraged to try to get the identity of their tip givers for several reasons, for records, for verification, for witnesses should they need them, and to prosecute should something go awry. Moreover, most tip givers just called the police office, rather than dropping in on people at a Rockems game. (Okay, so she was miffed about the interruption of her favorite past time, who wouldn't be??)

Her thoughts were split two ways. First, she wanted to convince this guy to tell her who he was. Secondly, she wanted to find a way to lay her hands on her firearm. Both seemed nearly impossible, but she didn't believe in impossible. She was nothing if not determined. The first measure she set about as soon as she was given an opportunity to talk. The second objective was going to take some finesse. "Can you promise me this isn't a set up?" she asked him. "Because I have to say, whoever you are, right now this whole thing stinks to high heaven.

"If you tell me who you are, I can assure your protection. I'll let someone from organized crime know what you told me, and we'll keep an eye on you until this whole thing blows over, for your safety and ours." Her gaze took in the field below, but she didn't see it. Really her thoughts were focused intently on listening for his voice, and on the feel of her sidearm in its holster behind her. She tilted her chin slightly sideways to listen, but didn't try to look back at him - yet. "I've got nothing to go on," she insisted over her shoulder. "Give me a reason to trust you."

[Bruce Wayne]

And that was exactly what he feared. He couldn't prove to her that this wasn't a set up. He couldn't tell her who he was. And, most importantly, she couldn't trust him. Perhaps that last statement wasn't entirely true; she wouldn't trust him was a more accurate assumption. He didn't blame her. In a city as rife with crime as Gotham, there were very few people that were trustworthy and even fewer whou couldn't be bought off. He considered his options in the pregnant seconds that swelled to full term between the pair. Her eyes might have been on the game. His were on her.

In days now long since gone Gordon could have vouched for him, and would have done so in a heartbeat. If asked, he probably still would. He continued with the sharade because he was told to, and none of them knew when the puppet's strings would snap. He could reveal himself to her; he had given Gordon as much as he could, but it was not possible to do that here. He would have to get her somewhere more private, and he wouldn't blame her if she refused. In the long run, it was probably the easiest path to take, if he had correctly interpreted the steel he had seen in her eyes.

"I can't let you see me here. I'll show you that you can trust me by first proving that I trust you. Meet me on top of the PD building in half an hour. Come alone. Enjoy the game." Without saying anything further, he melted from the chair and was absorbed by the shadows. If she believed him, he would be waiting.

[Susanna Gossamer]

She waited just long enough to be 'polite' before spinning around in her seat, grabbing her weapon out of its holster in a fluid motion. As she predicted, he was no where to be seen, but holding her gun down low against her leg so as not to raise attention she moved to look for him anyway. She was not surprised that she couldn't find him. She moved back to her seat, slinging her lightweight jacket over her arm to conceal her weapon as she moved out of the row and to the stairs. Whatever was left of the game, she would have to miss it. It was only a good thing for this guy that it was already a foregone conclusion.

As she made her way onto the streets outside the stadium, where other fans were already filing out as well, she ran through the scenario in her head. There was hardly a safer place in the world than the Police Department building. There were people there at all hours of the night, so it was like ready backup. If she had to pick a location for a secret meeting, there certainly wasn't a better place to do it. She checked both ways before crossing the street, pulling her Rockems baseball cap down further on her forehead.

Was the location too good to be true, then? One thing was for sure. She wasn't going up there without letting someone know what she knew. And as it just so happened, she knew a guy in the business. She pulled her hot pink cell phone out of her pocket as she hailed a cap and escaped into its dingy interior, intending a call to home. With a message left on her Dad's answering machine, organized crime unit was notified. Now, as she climbed back out of the cab and looked up at the Police Department, she just had to find out who was doing the notifying. She turned her attention to the front doors and made her way through.

"Bit late for you, huh kid?" greeted a fellow detective, who was apparently cycled back to the beat for a while. She shook her head at him with a wry smile as she saw him chowing down on some ordered pizza, rolling her eyes.

"Those of us who are still detectives do actually have some work to do," she lied smoothly as she made her way towards her office. But with a check over her shoulder to see if anyone was looking, she changed directions and instead headed for the stairs. The sounds of the city seemed miles below as she ascended to the roof, weapon drawn but safety on. She didn't move out far from the door, and swallowed hard as she tried to peer through the dark. She left the door behind her open, just incase she needed to run back in for cover.

[Bruce Wayne]

Just because he was a source of mystery to the people of Gotham, didn't mean that Batman was any less human. He was out of breath as he sped towards the ratty rooftop of the PD building, spotting the large, unlit searchlight long before he spotted anything else standing out on the destined plateau. He arrived mere minutes before the door to the stairwell was flung open, and he remained in the comfort of the shadows until he saw that she had come alone. He refrained from allowing a smile to crease the corner of his mouth. He had just found someone he could trust.

Without any further hesitation Batman stepped out into the dim vision supported by the lights of the buildings surrounding them. Illuminated against the cityscape, he stood in front of the short railing that edged the rooftop, his arms by his side in an non-threatening manner. His eyes locked onto hers, silently hoping that his trust wasn't unfounded and that she wouldn't shoot him to smithereens here on the balcony. She was at home here. He was as exposed as he was likely to get without dinner and a movie to break the ice.

"Thank you for coming," he told her in his deeper toned voice, his face black against the lighting from behind. She would now see the outline of his body and know full-well who he was, if she hadn't already made an educated guess. In a slow, deliberate movement he began to raise his arms until they were stretched out to either side of his body. He was not holding any weapons, and she had her gun trained on him well and truly by now. If Susanna had not felt safe enough by now, he was going to extraordinary lengths to ensure she did.

[Susanna Gossamer]

It took a moment for her to pick him out in the darkness, and as expected she raised her gun and trained it on him, though not very faithfully, as a threat. Her dark brows knitted together to confirm at last who he was, or at the very least who he pretended to be. The Bat Man. Her lips parted and her eyes narrowed as she tried to inspect him in the unequal light, but was unable to get a clear view. Her jaw set and she slowly lowered her weapon, trying to come up with rules of engagement for this sort of thing but oddly enough they hadn't written a section in the employee handbook about dealing with masked vigilantes. Without holstering her weapon, she nodded at him expressively.

"So you're him?" She stated the obvious, though having never met with anyone remotely like him before even that was hard to convince herself of. She let a dry half-laugh escape her as she inspected him, and shook her head once, eyebrow crooking expressively. "Excuse me if that doesn't inspire immediate confidence... but it's hard to tell whether you're a good guy or a bad guy sometimes," she admitted as she inspected him, the caution written in her features not yet relaxing. She had many questions, not all of them relating to the information he had given her earlier, but she decided to tackle one case at a time.

[Bruce Wayne]

"Tell me about it," came the wry reply, fully expressed before the wind whipped up around them. He watched her for a few more moments, the ghoulish howling of the wind eventually falling silent before he stepped forward so she could see what was visible of his face. He narrowed his eyes as he took her in, for the first time not stealing glances through binoculars or a from the confines of a ridiculouslyexpensive business suit. He lowered his arms, believing that he had proven himself enough for one night. Now it was time to get down to business before things went south. He had to keep moving.

"As I was saying. Larsen, Briggs and Mundy. Tomorrow night on the West docks. They'll have about 20 guns on the job. " Now only about a metre away from her, he could see the interest and stubborn resolve painted on her features as though she were a china doll. He quickly looked way, casting his eyes to the city and away from whatever it was that he saw in her that pained him. "Do you think you can handle it?"

[Susanna Gossamer]

The wind made her shudder, perhaps out of the inklings of fear and distrust she had been feeling ever since she had first heard his voice over her shoulder, or perhaps just from the chill. The howls of the Gotham wind were cold, unfeeling, lonely sounds, and for an instant she wondered how he could stand being out in it so much. He didn't flinch, and she wondered if he ever did. And not for the first, or the last time, she wondered if he could be trusted, and how much of her own reputation - not to mention safety - she was willing to stake on his word.

But the wonder and distrust on her features morphed, in a single instant, into pure sass at the tone of his last remark. She balked at him. "Can I handle it?" she repeated, with attitude. With an unusually piercing look, she chastised him with a glance. "You wouldn't have told me if you'd had any doubt," she stated, a fact rather than supposition. "Word of advice, Batguy, don't patronize the people you're trying to strike a deal with." She would have rolled her eyes - men! - if she thought it was safe to take her gaze off him.

"Any idea what time of night Larsen, Briggs, and Mundy will start this shendig, or should I tell the boys just hang tight till the guys with tommy guns show up?"

[Bruce Wayne]

He saved his smile, storing it in some secret pocket of his soul for a time when he could fully appreciate it. Her immediate change in demeanor was almost predictable, or at least it would have been if he knew her and it was then and there that he decided that this was the sort of girl cop that Bruce Wayne should be on the good side of. Batman and Bruce were so separate now that each of them thought of the other as a different person. Different men who lived in different worlds with different circles. The two existances just didn't add up like they had used to. Maybe Susanna Gossamer would become a common denominator.

He let the 'Batguy' remark slide, chalking it up to even Stevens considering he had deliberately provoked her. "Midnight," he replied. "The worms of Gotham are nothing if not predictable." He returned his gaze to her, his black pools focusing on her cocoa-and-honey eyes. The wind which had all but dies still managed to ruffle his cape, the hem rasped like a secret password over the concrete rooftop. "I'll be there," he added, wondering what her reaction to this new knowledge would be. "Can I trust you?"

[Susanna Gossamer]

Ah, midnight. She should have guessed. And she was not entirely surprised to find that he would be there as well, having guessed as much since learning his 'identity' - what other 'help' could he offer her? And yet, what other help would mean so much? She nodded, wondering what she would do with that info, whether the bigger catch would be the drug deal or the man that had lead her to it. She would have fidgeted had she weighed the decision right then and there, but there wasn't time enough to make a call right then and instead her eyes only betrayed a moment of consideration at this new information. She lifted her gaze back to is face from some unseen point when he spoke again.

But whether he was asking her or whether it was her own heart phrasing the question, she was no more certain of the answer. Could he trust her? She supposed, in the end, that was really up to him. "I don't know," she responded honestly, leg bouncing in what would be to others a tell tale sign of her uncertainty. "Can I trust you?" she asked. And because she knew that words meant little to either of them on that point, she answered both their questions.

"I guess we 'll see tomorrow night."

[Bruce Wayne]

After the indecision between them evolved into an awkward silence, he was glad of her answer to the question posed. She had accepted his help, then, and that was really all he had wanted. A man of few words, he was determined to prove the rest of his well-meant intentions to her in action. With a tight nod, he stepped backwards until he felt the reassuring lattice of the guard rail behind him. In a swift motion he had grabbed the rail with either hand and leaned back, flipping himself over the edge of the building. Before he released his grip he used both feet to push himself away from the brickwork; he knew from painful experience that slamming into the side on the way down was not a pleasant experience. Once in the airway his boned wings flicked into action with a thwacking sound, and he ghosted into the night.

[Susanna Gossamer]

She wanted badly to withstand the urge to reward his dramatic exit, the way she was wont to sneer at every overdone performance from a man, but after a moment's hesitation staring at the ledge where he had fallen, she found she couldn't. She rushed up to the guard rail and peered over into the night, watching his dark form coast into black oblivion. She then stood back, staring into a darkness that held nothing in it for her. It was a moment more before she finally turned back and moved slowly back towards the doorway to the Police Department.