Your Hands Come Up Empty
Title: Your Hands Come Up Empty.
Fandom: The Dark Knight
Characters: Bruce Wayne/Rachel Dawes.
Rating: PG.
Word Count: 431.
Spoilers: Set during The Dark Knight.
Summary: Rachel survived the set up the Joker made; Batman pulled her out just in time.
Author's Note/Disclaimer: Written for the prompt The night is darkest just before the dawn. And I promise you, the dawn is coming. for Bruce/Rachel over at the Multi-Fandom Request-A-Fic Meme Type-Thing.
Rachel survived the set up the Joker made; Batman pulled her out just in time. She was taken care of in the back of an ambulance and, when they saw nothing physically wrong with her, they let her go.
She called Harvey over and over again, left so many messages that his voice mail couldn't handle any more. He never called back.
The night crept over her as she walked away from her apartment, clenching her phone tightly in a fist, praying for Harvey to call. His voice was the one thing she longed for now, and she was pretty sure she'd never hear it again.
She stumbled over to Bruce's loft sometime early morning, when the sun was just starting to lighten the sky. It was a dull, eerie gray and she shivered from something other than cold. Her knuckles ached as she knocked against the door, waiting for something to change but knowing nothing would.
Harvey was gone, and all she had now was Bruce. Batman.
Alfred opened the door, looking confused and tried. "Ms. Dawes," he said, his head tilting slightly. "I'll wake Master Wayne."
She walked into the living room and sat down, watching the building-crowded skyline. Gotham used to hold so much wonder for her when she was younger; now it was a ghost of happiness, mocking her from some distant memory in her mind.
"Rachel?" His voice was rough with sleep, and she didn't bother turning around.
"He's gone," she said, eyes moving to the cell phone sitting her lap. "He's gone, Bruce." It should've been me, she thought bitterly. They should've saved him.
He walked over and kneeled in front of her, dressed only in a black bathrobe, and his hands fell onto her knees. She kept her eyes away from his face as tears slipped down her cheeks; she sniffled quietly and he took her hand. She couldn't look at him; if she did, she'd see the hope for them in his eyes, the hope that she could find some kind of happiness with him, be able to heal in his arms.
"Rachel," he said again, voice rough with concern this time. He stood up, pulling her with him, and folded her into his arms. His lips pressed to her ear and he whispered to her, quoting Gotham's White Knight; "The night is darkest just before the dawn. And I promise you, the dawn is coming."
Her body shook in his arms and he tightened the embrace, letting her tears soak through the front of his bathrobe as the sun rose behind them.
Fandom: The Dark Knight
Characters: Bruce Wayne/Rachel Dawes.
Rating: PG.
Word Count: 431.
Spoilers: Set during The Dark Knight.
Summary: Rachel survived the set up the Joker made; Batman pulled her out just in time.
Author's Note/Disclaimer: Written for the prompt The night is darkest just before the dawn. And I promise you, the dawn is coming. for Bruce/Rachel over at the Multi-Fandom Request-A-Fic Meme Type-Thing.
Rachel survived the set up the Joker made; Batman pulled her out just in time. She was taken care of in the back of an ambulance and, when they saw nothing physically wrong with her, they let her go.
She called Harvey over and over again, left so many messages that his voice mail couldn't handle any more. He never called back.
The night crept over her as she walked away from her apartment, clenching her phone tightly in a fist, praying for Harvey to call. His voice was the one thing she longed for now, and she was pretty sure she'd never hear it again.
She stumbled over to Bruce's loft sometime early morning, when the sun was just starting to lighten the sky. It was a dull, eerie gray and she shivered from something other than cold. Her knuckles ached as she knocked against the door, waiting for something to change but knowing nothing would.
Harvey was gone, and all she had now was Bruce. Batman.
Alfred opened the door, looking confused and tried. "Ms. Dawes," he said, his head tilting slightly. "I'll wake Master Wayne."
She walked into the living room and sat down, watching the building-crowded skyline. Gotham used to hold so much wonder for her when she was younger; now it was a ghost of happiness, mocking her from some distant memory in her mind.
"Rachel?" His voice was rough with sleep, and she didn't bother turning around.
"He's gone," she said, eyes moving to the cell phone sitting her lap. "He's gone, Bruce." It should've been me, she thought bitterly. They should've saved him.
He walked over and kneeled in front of her, dressed only in a black bathrobe, and his hands fell onto her knees. She kept her eyes away from his face as tears slipped down her cheeks; she sniffled quietly and he took her hand. She couldn't look at him; if she did, she'd see the hope for them in his eyes, the hope that she could find some kind of happiness with him, be able to heal in his arms.
"Rachel," he said again, voice rough with concern this time. He stood up, pulling her with him, and folded her into his arms. His lips pressed to her ear and he whispered to her, quoting Gotham's White Knight; "The night is darkest just before the dawn. And I promise you, the dawn is coming."
Her body shook in his arms and he tightened the embrace, letting her tears soak through the front of his bathrobe as the sun rose behind them.