Lenore Nevermore.

Damn. Psychiatrist holding me overtime. Won’t be able to be there for the big reveal until later this week. So…Catwoman? Apparently she looks very similar to me. What’s that all about? I don’t know. I’ll figure it out soon enough, I suppose…

Stealth. Blackest night. Closing my eyes, I open my arms, stretching them out to the stars, breathing in, out, one, two, one, two. Teetering on the edge of the building, I slightly push myself forward. Wind rushes by my ears, whistling through my hair, waking me up, cleansing my soul. Gently, I unfurl one wing, throwing me a bit off balance, then the next, causing my decent to slow. Seconds before I hit the roof of a car, I move my feet below me and land with a loud crash against the hood causing the panic button to go off and pain to shoot up my legs. Ignoring the alarm and the pain, I remove the Ghost from its place against my side and begin shooting at anyone and everyone who happens to be out this early. 
Screeching, I run down the street, picking up my speed. I can’t get the boys face from my mind. That pained, blank look I know so well.
“Damn you.” I growl.
“Come and get me, Batman.” My voice is a low, manic murmur. “Kill Me!” I shout, pumping lead in another passerby, then reloading my gun quickly I screech once more. “KILL ME!”
A gravelly, deep voice that can only be Batman’s says, “That can be arranged.” Behind me. But it’s a lie. He doesn’t kill anyone, only imprisons them. I want him to snap. His gloved hand roughly grabs my neck and I’m pulled back. Using his body as a springboard, I flip off of him and around to face him, hands tight near my face, ready to punch. With a grunt, he kicks toward me, but for some reason is much slower than usual. I am able to grab his leg and flip him onto the ground. 
“Snap.” I say, enjoying the smack against pavement that reaches my ears. He’s up in a heartbeat and he punches my side. Pain erupts through my body as I am pushed backwards by the force. I think he cracked a rib…
Grateful to feel something, anything, I launch into a triple roundhouse kick, more for show than efficiency.

But I do manage to get him in the jaw twice… Mrs. Bat should have fun stitching that one up. 
“Why do you do it?” I ask, kneeing him in the stomach than flipping around to elbow him in the ribs. He catches my arms and slams me forward onto the pavement. Stunned, I lay there for a second, my nose most definitely broken…maybe even a cracked cheekbone or something. Whatever it is, it hurts.
“Justice.” He growls, getting ready to punch me again. I roll out of his way then pounce on his back digging my claws into the black fabric around his neck, cutting off his oxygen supply. Then I get an idea. I could unmask this man. Really, I could. Right now. My fingers reach for one of the little pointy ears of his bat mask and my other hand slips under the cheek. I’m hanging on with just my legs, my core burning. I’ve almost got the mask off when he throws me forward. White splotches attack my vision and unadulterated agony slices up my spine. 
“God, that hurt!” I say. He turns away to fix his mask, but not before I catch a glimpse of some of his features. They seem…familiar. Eerily familiar. Something about this isn’t right. Before he can turn around, I push myself up and disappear into a side alleyway, the pain causing me to be slower than usual. I know the streets better than anyone out here. Well…except for maybe Red. 
After a few turns, I find my motorcycle and hop on…er limp on, driving off into the distance.
 
Fighting the Bat always gets my mind off things. But tonight, my mind is whirring faster than clockwork.

Climbing out one of the windows in Wayne Manor isn’t as hard as one might think. Needless to say, I make it to the ground and I’m sneaking around to the front, gun ready to shoot. 
“Hold right there.” I say, stopping the two figures from coming any closer to the manor.
“Lenore?” One of them asks, raising his hands over his head. I squint.
 
“Gordon?” Walking forward, gun still trained on the two of them, I find a distraught Gordon staring at me in confusion.  
“Oh, god, I’m sorry.” I put the gun back on safety and drop it to my side, a wee bit embarrassed. 
“Where’s your bodyguards?” He asks kindly.
“Asleep, I think. Jet lag. Sorry…my instincts got the better of me. The paparazzi knew I was here, so I assumed it had already been on the news. You never can be too careful.”
My eyes slide to the figure next to him curiously.
“Good evening.” I say quietly. I can tell he’s upset. I can also tell that he’s staring at me. 
“Evening.” He says, seemingly in a daze.
 
“Come on, let’s get the both of you inside.” I use the secret key under the plants to unlock the front door. Leading them in, I keep looking at the boy. There’s something wrong with him. Something definitely wrong.
Alfred is coming down the stairs as soon as I get them in the living room followed by Bruce and… Jack. I thought I told him to stay upstairs…? I turn to the kitchen and begin to gather the necessary items to make a pot of tea. Gordon follows as Alfred turns to the boy. 
“What’s happened, Gordy?” I whisper, pouring water in a pot and pushing it on the gas stove to boil.
“His parents, Lenore. Do you remember the Flying Graysons?”
It had been all over the news the other day. A crime boss, Maroni, I think, had hired some cronies to cut the wires which held the acrobats. Red, Jokes and I don’t really pay too much attention to what the Mob is doing. Our reasons for hating Batman are different than the Mob’s. Bruce walks over to join us, then, leaving Alfred to speak with the boy.
I bite my lip. “Was he….”
“Their son. Yes.”
Suddenly, visions of my mother invade my mind and I grip the marble counter, forcing myself not to go under. I grit my teeth and attempt to steady my breathing. A strong arm makes its way around my waist, pulling me back to reality. It’s Jack. He must have noticed that I was about to have one of my PTSD visions.  
He turns to Bruce and says quietly, “The boy needs a place to stay. Not only that, but also some decent company.” Then his tone becomes even more hushed. “Since his parents… Since the accident, a fire’s lit that boy’s eyes, and it’s dangerous.” 
“I understand.” Says Bruce.
The pot whistles, interrupting the lull of conversation. I take that as my cue to leave the two men to speak in the kitchen about the boy alone. I slide the pot off the stove and fix the whole room a cup of tea, whether they want it or not. British hospitality. Pulilng Jack behind me, I bring Alfred and the boy a cup. After Jack and I have served everyone a cup, we go to sit at the end of the couch next to the boy.
Red enters the room. She has major sex hair, I notice. But, as now is not the time for snide remarks, I take a sip of my tea, hiding my smile. 
I can already tell…the evening is going to be long. 

Jack slides his arm around my waist toward the end of the evening when Bruce heads off with Renee. 
“Anywhere to get away in here?” He whispers gently in my ear, his breath tickling my skin.
I raise an eyebrow. This is Bruce’s mansion we’re talking about. Of course there’s a place to get away here. I smirk and slide my fingers down his arm to his fingertips, pulling him gently behind me. Actually, a long time ago, Bruce took me down one of these very hallways. It was a drunk moment of foolish idiocy which we never discuss. Alfred knows, though. And he makes snide comments all the time. Subtle ones, true, but snide.
We end up heading straight up to my bedroom. Turns out Jack is bunking with me. Once we make our way into the room, he gets all excited and I turn around and place my hand on his chest.
“Let me set some house rules. I won’t go any farther than a kiss with you, okay? I’m not ready for an intimate relationship right now.”
His face falls a little bit, but he doesn’t seem too upset. “Fair enough. But we can sleep in the same bed, right?”
My eyes narrow. “No funny business.”
With a smirk he says, “I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked.”

Pursing my lips, I wind my fingers into his hair. “Maybe, but you still need to respect my decisions.” I move away from him, then mumble, “or else you’ll never get in my pants.”
As soon as it’s out of my mouth, I regret saying it. 
“I would love to oblige.” He smirks, gently placing his hand on my back, he trails his fingertips down my spine causing me to shiver with anticipation. 
“Stop that.” I say, moving away from his grasp. 
“I’m sorry.” He pouts and goes to sit on the bed. “I’ll respect your decisions.”
 ”Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change.”
“No excuses needed, lovely.”
I stop in my tracks. “Pet names? You’re really aroused right now, aren’t you…”
He ignores me and slides off his shirt. I force myself not to look and step behind the screen in our room. Slipping off my dress, I slide into a cozy turtleneck sweater, no pants. Draping the dress over the screen, I walk out to join Jack.
“How am I supposed to ‘not do funny business’ when you’re wearing that?” He asks, sprawled out on the bed, being all sexy.
“Let’s just say it’ll be a test of your strength, okay?”
“You know what else would be a test of my strength…?” He smirks suggestively.
“Respect my requests.” My tone is darker. I’m not playing. He gets the message and shoots me an apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry. Please stay. I’ll be good.”
“Thank you.”
I slide under the covers next to him, comfortable. He wraps his arm around my waist and holds me close to him, clicking off the light with his free hand. Burying his face in my hair, he trails his fingers around my waist.
“You’re making this very difficult, you know.” I whisper.
“Yeah. I know.”
Silence envelops the room. We’re almost asleep when my ears perk up. I hear a commotion outside, then something bangs on the door. Repeatedly. Jack starts to get up, but I force him back down.
“Stay here.”
Pouting, he furrows his brow at me. I plant my lips gently on his mouth, kissing him. “Please,” I add. Still a wee bit upset, he salutes, then turns to lay on his stomach, his muscular back rippling seductively. 
 

I slide on some jeans, grab the Akdal Ghost, then head out the door.

Yeah. Red. Wanna talk to me about this…? Or should I just mail a copy to Bruce?
*Raises eyebrows* 

The hum of my black Ferrari limo seems to be lulling me to sleep. My head’s propped up against the window and my legs are curled underneath me on the seat. We’re picking Jack up at some hotel room he rented for the evening in case the paparazzi happen to be out. Why any of them would still be out past midnight beats me, but that’s when anything exciting happens in Gotham. Edgar and Annabelle are in the front. Edgar, of course, is driving.  
Thinking over the events of the day, I remember that Poison Ivy stopped by. Technically, the reason we can’t all stay at the Warehouse is that she came by and forced Joker into the control room… a slight stinging pinches my upper thigh and I run my fingers over the whip mark where Poison Ivy’s favorite poison-laced weapon had embedded in my skin. It was a few years ago when Red, Jokes and I had just met. Harley Quinn had just been sent to Arkham. It was Red and my fault, really. Poison Ivy then asked us to help her get Harley out. At the time, I was incredibly jealous of Harley because I thought Jokes and she had a thing. I refused. Poison Ivy then pulled out this long, green vine-like whip and went all ballistic on us. Things started exploding everywhere. The bitch had surrounded the place. We got out of there alive, but she put up a good fight. We also realized that Poison Ivy is one of the most powerful female villains and she could technically kill us all if she weren’t so obsessed with her plants.
 

The pain fresh in my mind, I glance out the window, hoping we’re close to the hotel. We’re a few blocks away. I send Bruce another text to make sure he knows that he’ll be meeting my Australian companion. I will say I’m a wee bit worried about Jack’s behavior. I’m afraid he’ll do something crazy and give us away. Out of the three of us, he’s the most unstable. 
We slow to a halt and park for a moment in front of the hotel. Fancy place. Edgar gets out and acts all chauffer-y. I need a new one to replace Alisdair, but there are going to be too many people staying at the Warehouse now anyway. When the Crow’s Nest is done, I’ll hire one. He opens the back seat door and out swarm a few paparazzi, recognizing the car, I’d assume. It’s showtime. 
Jack walks out of the hotel, some lackey carrying his bags. He heads straight for the car, pressing past the obnoxious paparazzi members. I stare at him for a moment, my breath absolutely gone. Handsome.

I smile, my eyes meet his. Edgar pops the trunk with the keys and the bellhop carefully places the luggage in the back, closing the trunk once he’s done. Jack joins me in the backseat, all trace of a madman gone, and he gently kisses me on the cheek. [The cameras were sure to get that one.] Edgar, once he’s sure the cameras have sufficiently taken enough pictures of us, closes the door behind Jack. I still haven’t said a word to him.
“Good evening, Lenore.” He says, a gentle trace of an Australian accent punctuating his words. All hints of his psychopathic Joker voice are gone. This man is good.   
Having nothing else to say, I turn to him and smile. “Damn, boy. You clean up real nice.” 
Then, his familiar smirk appears and he leans his head on my shoulder. I try not to play with his hair, but he’s just too sexy. And I end up playing with his hair anyway. 
“Why didn’t we think of this sooner?” He asks, enjoying my touch. I try not to make any snarky comments. I’m not sure I want to ruin the moment.
“Evening, Jokes.” Says Annabelle from the front.
“Please, Annabelle, call me Jack.”
The same rules apply to me. When I’m dressed and acting like Lenore, they call me Lenore. But when I’m dressed and acting like the Raven, they call me the Raven. We all have to make thick distinctions between our personalities or else we would all have to check into a mental institution for multiple personality disorder [among other things, of course]. Or something like that.
After a little while, we pull into the driveway for Bruce’s Manor. It’s nice to be in his Manor instead of the Penthouse. I was a wee bit worried he wouldn’t have room, but the Manor could house a small army. The lights are on and Alfred is waiting by the door. I bet he was reading the newspaper, but he likes us to think that all he ever does is butlering.  
 

Edgar gets out of the car and opens my side, murmuring, “You really need a new chauffeur, dear…”
Annabelle laughs, her hearing much more in tune than all of us, and grabs the luggage from the back of the car. She gets around quite well for a blind woman. 
“Good evening,” Salutes Alfred, opening the door for us. We all shuffle in. Somehow, Jack’s hand makes its way over to mine and we hold hands as we enter the building. Alfred notices, but says nothing. When Annabelle and Edgar enter, a contagious, uncontrollable smile slides up Alfred’s face. 
“Alfred, you are allowed to hug me after I get rid of this luggage.” Says Annabelle, forcing the bags into her brother’s arms and attacking Alfred with a giant hug, catching him mildly off guard. I swear, if Alfred were a few years younger, they’d have a thing. They probably still do. I don’t judge. But it is a little weird…
Edgar sighs and heads up the stairs, lugging the bags along with him, knowing where everyone will bunk, having done this before. Jack just continues to hold my hand, unsure of what to do or where to go.
Bruce appears, wearing his tux [does he ever wear anything else? probably not] and glances at the man holding my hand.
“So, was this where you were heading the last time you left with the lingerie hanging out of your bag?”
I glare at him, “I told you, I went to stay at a friend’s house. You’re ridiculous.”
He walks toward me and envelops me into a hug. “You going to introduce me to your friend there?”
I blush ever so slightly, then say, “Bruce Wayne, this is Jack Taylor. Jack, this is Bruce.” [I change his last name in case Jack has used the name Jack Legend anywhere else. He doesn’t seem to mind.] 
“A pleasure to meet you, Bruce.” Jack sticks out his hand for a handshake. Bruce takes it, then cocks his head curiously. “And you…Have I seen you somewhere before?”
Jack furrows his brow and laughs, “Ever been to Australia?” But there’s a flicker of indecision on his face. Jack seems to recognize Bruce too, it seems.
With a chuckle, Bruce says, “I can’t remember. Welcome. Any friend of Lenore’s is a friend of mine.” Then he turns to me excitedly.
“Oh! Lenore, Renee is going to—”
He’s interrupted by a car’s lights passing the window. 
“Excuse me.” He slips out the back.
I glance at Jack. He seems fidgety, worried. Definitely more reserved than usual, but that was to be expected. “You alright?”
He shrugs. “I’m alright. Something about this place gives me the heebie-jeebies. I can’t put my finger on it.”
I lead him to one of the couches in the giant living room, still near enough to the door so I can hop up and be “introduced” to Renee.
“Will we be sharing a room?” He asks eagerly, eyebrows raised. He’s trying to ignore his anxiety. 
“Probably.”
He grins and wiggles his eyebrows.
“But don’t try any funny business, understand?” I add as an afterthought. 
“Sleeping together, just not sleeping together. I got it. Have to start somewhere, I suppose…”
I roll my eyes, then hear the door open behind me. There’s a woman in Bruce’s arms. It’s Red…er…Renee. I stand, gesturing for Jack to do the same. For a split second, I smile this little apologetic smile for her eyes only, then my mask goes up and Lenore Nevermore is the diplomatic darling who is so eager to meet her best friend’s new girlfriend.
My heels clicking across the marble floors, I make my way to the door. “So you’re Renee. Brucey hasn’t stopped talking about you. A pleasure, I’m sure.”
Bruce sets her down so that she can “meet” me. I extend my hand gracefully. “Lenore Nevermore. Behind me is my friend Jack Taylor.”
Renee suppresses a smile, shooting me a look that says, “Really? I had no idea.”
Alfred hides a laugh, “Friend. Is that what they’re calling lovers these days?”
I shoot an icy glance his way, then stick my tongue out and turn back to Renee. “Ignore him.”
“I’m Renee Crymson. It’s great to finally meet you. Alfred talks about you quite often. Bruce…sometimes talks about you.”
”Crymson. What a unique last name.” Smirking, I raise one eyebrow. Crymson. Really?
“Yes, it is a rather unique name, isn’t it…Lenore Nevermore is altogether a very unique name…almost…poetic.”
Giggling, I hook my arm with hers and start toward the couch. “So, Renee. Tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?”
She narrows her eyes, glaring at me. “Well…I absolutely love to…cook. I love to cook.”
“Oh? What do you enjoy cooking?”
“I love spicy foods. Spicy. Flaming. Foods.”
A mischievous grin crosses my lips. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a…computer engineer. Yes. A computer engineer. Have a problem with a computer? I can fix it. Even if it takes me a whole evening to do so.” She sends a glare toward Jack who is conversing with Bruce. They seem to be having a lovely conversation. She turns to me.
“What do you do, Lenore?” She asks as she sits down on the large black leather couch. 
“I’m the British diplomat for Gotham City.” I smirk a wee bit. That’s such an easy answer. She can’t make me stumble.
Grinning, she asks me pointedly, “How did you and Jack meet?”
Hesitating only for a moment, I bite my lip. “He’s the…Australian emissary. We met under the Queen’s supervision. At a party.”
“I see.” 
We sit there in awkward silence for a moment when I notice that Annabelle seems a bit sleepy. She keeps yawning.
I glance around the room then turn to her.”Annabelle, you’re welcome to head up to bed. I noticed that Edgar already did so…” 
“Thank you, Lenore. I think I shall do that. Jack, would you mind leading me up there? If you could just show me up the stairs, I should be fine.”
Jack, who seemed to be in a deep conversation with Bruce, turns to Annabelle. “Of course.” He smiles, keeping up the perfect gentleman farce. Turning to Bruce he adds, “I hope you’ll excuse me. I would love to continue this conversation with you some other time.”
Smiling politely, Bruce nods. “We should definitely hang out sometime, Jack.”
“Just let me know.” Jack smiles, then walks over to Annabelle and offers her his arm and heads up the steps.
Soon, Bruce joins us on the couch.
“Can I get you anything?” Asks Alfred pleasantly.
“I always enjoy my alcohol, Alfie. You know that.”
Rolling his eyes, Alfred turns to Bruce and Red. “And the lovebirds?”
“I’ll have a drink too, I suppose.” Says Red, only halfway paying attention. She’s staring at Bruce.
“I’ll have what she’s having…” Bruce adds, not even pretending to pay attention.
Alfred smirks and heads to the bar. “I’ll see what I can do, Master Wayne.” 

We’ve stopped at the bar for a little while [not the Gore. Just some random ass bar that happens to serve some good liquor.]
Glancing at my phone, I frown. Red’s texted me that the Warehouse is locked up. Damn. Where the hell am I supposed to stay? Then I smirk a little and send a text to Brucey…Hope Red’s staying at her apartment because I have nowhere else right now since the damn penthouse is still under construction. Thank you for that one, Jokes. 
Right after I send a text to Bruce, my phone starts ringing. It’s Jack. [It’s always his fault whenever a problem occurs…] What does he want?
I answer the phone with a disenterested, “Yes?”
“Lenore, babay. I need a place to stay. Introduce me to Brucey?” 
Of course the man needs a place to stay. I should just tell him no. I should just force him to sleep outside in a cardboard box. I should just—
“Fine. I’ll text Bruce. But absolutely no funny business, alright?” My resolve is less than…well…what it should be.
“So…after this…are we officially a couple? Because you know the paparazzi will be all over this little get together.”
“Fine. Any chance you could pretend to be an Australian emissary?”
“Oh, could I? Could I?” I can just tell he’s smirking on the other end of the line. “If it means that I’m allowed to kiss you in public, then yes, I definitely could.”
I purse my lips, then find the phone being snuck out of my hand by Annabelle.
“Jokes. How you doing? I’ve missed you.”
“Really?” [the phone’s volume is exceptionally loud]
“No. Not really. Actually, not at all. Not since you BURNED MY PIANO.”
He laughs, “I missed you too, Annie. Tell Edgar the same. Looking forward to seeing you at Bruce’s partay this evening. Did you know that Lenore and I are officially a couple?”
Annabelle glances at me with this peculiar look on her face. “Had to happen eventually, I suppose.”
“I agreed to nothing.” Say I, a wee bit frustrated with his little plan.
“Anyway. I’ll see you a few blocks from the Manor. Pick me up, will you?”
Annabelle hangs up the phone and rolls her eyes, then hands it back to me. “So…” She begins. “You and the Joker, eh? Knew it.” 
Edgar glances up, a somewhat pitiful look on his face, sipping his apple juice. “Oh?” He asks. “I’m…very proud…” His response seems a bit more lackluster than I was expecting. I stare at Annabelle for a moment. “Is he…is he okay?”
She shrugs. “He’s never okay, really.”
Worrying my lip, I furrow my brow for a moment, then I stand to leave, shaking it off. Must just be the liquors effect on me. Or something… “Ready? Let’s go to Bruce’s.” 

These are one of the pairs of boots I wear sometimes when I’m out Raven-ing. Jack likes them, anyway.

Someone made this. I just had to share.