Just Breathe

Chapter 6

Beth stabbed at the pasta tubes on her plate as she watched the news. They were re-running the footage from earlier tonight that apparently showed Batman leading the chase through the woods for suspected serial killer Patrick Newsome. But all she could see from the shaky, blurred footage taken from the news helicopter was a bunch of indistinct figures emerging from the woods to the fleet of patrol cars waiting on the highway.

"Newsome was apparently shot during the confrontation and was taken to Gotham General Hospital where he remains in critical condition." The anchor finished the bulletin and moved on to the next story.

Beth clicked off the TV in frustration. She knew Batman wouldn't have shot anyone - he was notoriously anti-gun - so what the hell had happened out there? Was Newsome really the killer they were after? How did Batman track him down?

She had so many questions and no way to find the answers, and it was driving her CRAZY.

A light tapping at her window distracted her from mutilating her dinner. She glanced over to find the man in question crouched on her fire escape.

She dropped her plate onto the coffee table and ran to open the window. "Are you okay?" she asked as Batman climbed inside. "Are you hurt? I saw on the news that you were chasing after a suspect..."

He shook his head and she sighed in relief.

He stood in her living room, head bowed and gaze fixed to her floor. He wasn't hurt, but he obviously wasn't okay.

He looked...broken.

She pushed him towards her couch and made him sit. "What happened out there?"

He said nothing, just rubbed harshly at the blood stains on his gloves, as if trying to wipe away evidence.

She gently put her hands over his, stilling the movement. "Okay, enough of this Lady Macbeth routine." She tugged on each glove until they came off, exposing the bandage-wrapped hands underneath. She pushed her discarded plate towards him. "Eat," she commanded. "It'll make you feel better."

She left him to it and walked over the sink in the kitchen. She wet a cloth and started to scrub away the blood from the gloves. When they were clean, she returned to the living room. The plate of pasta had been finished off and Batman was looking more himself.

Carbs could fix anything.

He glanced up at her. His voice was barely a whisper. "I'm sorry for coming like this-"

"You don't need to be sorry." She handed him the gloves which he placed down at his feet. She took a seat beside him. "Is something wrong?" she asked hesitantly.

All of a sudden, the tension seemed to seep out of him. He collapsed back against the couch cushions and tilted his head until he was staring up at her ceiling. "Gordon got shot."

She gasped, not expecting that. "What? Is he okay?"

Batman scrubbed his hands over his face. "Bullet went through his leg. He's in surgery - apparently - but I don't know anything more. I'm banned from the hospital. The cops think its my fault."

"Did you shoot him?" She asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

He turned his head to look at her. They were seated close to each other on the narrow sofa, and she could see the weariness in his eyes. The ashen tint to his skin. "Of course not," he whispered.

"Then its not your fault. Gordon is a cop - he's been a cop for a lot of years. Getting hurt is a risk he knowingly takes every time he leaves for work."

Batman sat forward again and clenched his hands together. "But if I hadn't spooked Newsome in the woods by chasing after him, he wouldn't have fired-"

"And then he would have gotten away. Do you think Gordon wanted that? You caught the guy you've been after for 18 months!"