corvus, jack (corbinian) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-04-22 00:16:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | eric draven, lois lane |
Who: Jack and Max
What: Jack finds out Max was out as Corbinian, shouting ensues.
Where: Bathos
When: Early in the morning after the night Jack was out as the Bat.
Warnings: None.
It was getting light outside by the time Jack appeared outside the now familiar window entry to Bathos. He hardly knew if he could find Max’s apartment if he was forced to use the front door, at this point. He also knew better than to enter without knocking, so he rapped lightly on the windowpane before opening it and dropping through it.
Physically, of course, he was perfectly fine. Any exhaustion he had felt from carrying forty pounds of kevlar on his body all night while fighting and jumping between buildings had mended himself after he pulled it off, but he had been in this world long enough to know the familiar taste and distinction between exhaustion that was spiritual and exhaustion that was physical. Being the Bat for a night had been tiring in both senses, and his happiest moment all night had been taking the suit off at the end of it. Truthfully, however, the sensation of feeling both on edge and tired stretched back further than tonight. The world as a whole was beginning to feel more and more like a place in which he had nowhere to put himself, nowhere he comfortably fit. He had alienated the people he felt were his friends, he’d had the very reason he’d come to humanity pulled out from under him, and now - what was left? There was the city, and the people in it who needed help, and now they were tired of him, tired of all the masks. If anyone tried to officially push them underground, legally or otherwise, he knew things would be the same. There was no reason for him to stop. A threat to his person meant nothing to him. They would have to catch him to make him stop.
He did consider, more than once, that he was young to feel this tired. But such thoughts inevitably led him to the question of how long he would live, and that whether he liked it or not, that might be for a very, very long time, so he shied away from them.
He shut the window behind him, and, not seeing Max immediately, called her. “Max?” He had come to assure her the thing had been done without incident, and to make sure that she herself was alright. He knew she wasn’t getting enough sleep, that she was running herself ragged, and if she looked ready to pass out he intended to carry her to her bed himself.
She was in the kitchen, topping off a mug of strong coffee. She’d gone by the hospital, and she’d checked on Amanda at Aubade, and she’d received her assignment for the morning (Five minutes with Thomas Brandon, which was just entertaining as fucking hell), and she was, in fact, tired.
She recognized Jack’s voice, and she only sped up so that he wouldn’t call out for her again and wake Audrey. She walked into her bedroom, steaming mug of coffee in hand, and she closed the door behind her. She was mostly dressed - short black skirt, black stocking and heels, and a camisole that would soon be covered with the camel sweater that was laid out on the bed. Matching gloves were also on the bed, a necessity that morning, and she steeled herself for the argument that was to come.
She assumed he knew that she’d gone out as him. That the clothing had given her away, or an early news report, but she wasn’t sorry she’d done it. And she was intending to do it every night until Thomas was back on his feet. In a perfect world, neither he nor Thomas would realize it was her, but she didn’t count on perfect worlds anymore.
Her knuckles were bruised from one end to the other, and her arms bore visible bruises as well, with a hint that there were probably more bruising beneath her clothing. She’d already begun covering the bruise on her jaw, and it was just a shadow when she turned to look at him. “Didn’t fall off anything?” she asked hopefully, because that was more important than anything fucking else right then. “Night’s okay, too?” They might just succeed.
He didn't know. He hadn't even suspected, until that moment, and his first instinct was not to assume that she had gone out and fought, but that someone had attacked her on her way home. He closed the gap between them in a few short strides. "Are you alright?" he asked, disregarding her questions entirely. The bruises on her knuckles suggested she'd fought someone, and the ones on her arms said they'd fought back. "What happened?" Did he remember that she had mentioned someone needed to go out as Corbinian? Of course. But never in a thousand years would he have expected that she was the person she had elected to do it. Something prickled at the back of his mind, something about the clothing she'd been wearing when she showed up at the warehouse - but no, she wouldn't take that sort of risk without asking him.
She relaxed, even as she moved back to the bed and slipped the sweater over her head. It had long sleeves and a much more concealing neckline than she was accustomed to, and she tugged her hair free of the collar as she returned to the dresser and looked at his reflection in the mirror. “Nothing. Just a rough night. Tell me how it went,” she coaxed, reaching for lipliner and leaning close to the glass. “Did you leave the suit at the warehouse? What time are you going out tomorrow?” All in a rush. “Did people see you?” She asked everything with the worried knowledge that they might not get another chance, depending on how Thomas reacted.
"Yes, people saw me, I made sure of it. Neither of us was hurt. There were some close calls, but that was about it. The suit is at the warehouse, and I'll go out tomorrow whenever you need me to. Now, Max, what is a rough night?" He couldn't believe she was being so calm about this, putting on lipliner as if it was nothing at all.
Lipstick followed, and then she started twisting her hair up in a tortoiseshell comb. “Corvus, that doesn’t matter. How many times have I told you that I’m not damsel in distress?” she asked, turning once she was done and leaning back against the dresser, arms crossed over her chest. “I have to go interview Thomas for the paper in a half hour. Chances are he might already know someone went out in the suit. He might figure out it was you, and he might try to fucking stop you,” she said, warning him. She’d talk to Luke first, and see if they could prevent that happening, but it was still a distinct possibility.
Jack closed the distance between them entirely. He took her by the chin without warning, turning her head to look at that bruise under the makeup. His hand dropped.
"You went out," he said. "You went out as Corbinian." Surprise, anger, and fear that dropped straight into his stomach.
She broke free of the grip easily, slipping past him and reaching for the thin gloves. “It’s nothing to freak out about,” she said, her back to him as she tugged one of the gloves on. “I’m fine, and we got done what we needed to get done.”
He rounded on her. "You could have been killed!" he shouted, forgetting entirely that there were other people in the apartment. "The criminals on the street might not know what I am, but they all know that I'm not easily taken down. You put yourself into the line of fire meant for someone who cannot be killed, Max!"
She shoved at his chest once, the second glove forgotten. “Corvus, someone needed to fucking do it, alright? And we couldn’t take anyone else out of their suit, and we couldn’t invite a civilian to play the part of Corbinian. I was a black ops spy for years. Whatever the fuck Corbinian takes every night, it isn’t shit compared to what I used to do. It’s fucking fine, and I’ll keep doing it as long as we need someone to do it.”
"No," he said, flat and sharp as a knife. "No, you won't. What does it matter whether Corbinian is out on the streets? I was gone for over a month, it sets no precedent at all for me to be gone. There is absolutely no reason for you to be taking these kinds of risks. And you're wrong, because whatever you were doing, I am sure that you had a plan to go by and someone on a comm to tell you what to do and where to go, and you had other teammates to watch your back. This is you, out there, pretending to be me and leaping in front of bullets for absolutely no fucking reason!"
She didn’t argue, because she was going to do it regardless, and her stubborn expression said as much. She slipped on the other glove, and she crossed her arms over her chest again, the posture an entirely defensive one. “I am not a fucking idiot, Corvus. I know to be careful, and I’m not going to jump in front of any fucking bullets. I wear a vest, which you don’t, and I know how to avoid getting shot. Calm the fuck down.” She paused, more for breath than anything else. “This is too fucking important to me to risk it because you’re afraid I’ll get hurt. This is bigger than me. Do you get that?!”
"I don't care how big it is, it's not worth you dying for it!" He felt sure, so sure, that if she did this she was going to get hurt or killed. Tonight had been a fluke. It didn't matter how skilled she was. The men who came after him were coming to kill, and to kill with punishing force. Max killed by a bullet meant for him - he couldn't even think it.
She didn’t agree, and it showed on her face. “What do you think I’m fighting for here, Corvus?” she asked, almost too quiet.
"You're fighting to prove that Thomas isn't the Bat, to prove no one knows who he is, and I understand that, Max, I do. I wouldn't have fucking agreed to do this if I didn't understand that, because I'm doing it for the same reason, but it is still not worth that. We'll find someone else." He didn't care how he sounded, anymore, or how angry it made her, or whether she felt he didn't trust her. He just knew she couldn't go out again the way she had tonight.[
She shook her head almost as soon as he started talking. “No. I’m doing it for my daughter, so she can have a normal fucking life. I’m doing it for Luke, so he doesn’t have to take over Thomas, Inc., before he even knows what he really wants out of life. And, yes, I’m doing it for Thomas, because he’s so fucked up over everything that he can’t even think straight. And all of those things? They’re worth taking risks for. I don’t want to save Seattle; I want to save my family. Don’t tell me what is and isn’t worth it. I’ll be careful, and that’s the best promise I can make you.”
He stared back at her. She seemed so sure of herself, and he even understood why she felt it was necessary. But it couldn't happen this way.
"You can find someone else to be Corbinian, you can assume that no one will notice, or you can find someone else to be the Bat," he said. "Those are your options."
She stared at him a moment, and then she turned her back to him. “I have to get to work,” she said, almost too quiet to be heard. She was too tired to deal with that ultimatum, too tired of this fucking shit in general. It was just too fucking much, right then, after the night she’d had.
He turned away from her, and went out the window without another word. He couldn't even find it in himself to feel guilty about it. Jack wanted to save everyone, but there weren't many people left in this world that he felt a true connection to. Max was one of them, and nothing was worth losing her, even if it made her hate him.