Get Out Alive

Synopsis: Jack, a man secretly teetering on the brink of insanity, desperately seeks a life of normalcy.

Author's Notes: This story takes place during Batman Begins, when Batman first begins to make himself known in Gotham and Jack starts to become obsessed with the masked vigilante.

Chapter One

He hadn't meant to see her.

It's the cliché of all clichés, really, seeing a pretty girl through the dusty window of the corner bookstore he passes every day.

And the thing is, he had other plans that day, other things he had wanted to do. He had absolutely no intentions of going inside that building and striking up a conversation with her. He just didn't do things like that.

He hadn't talked to someone of the opposite sex in years, not in the way he wanted to talk to her, anyway.

It wasn't that he ignored women or didn't like being around them, he simply didn't bother himself with them. He didn't really bother himself much with anybody, to be fair. He had always been quiet and reserved for as long as he could remember, not saying much at all while his thoughts ran rampant and scattered through his unbridled mind.

The city that evening was surprisingly quiet and calm for a Thursday. It was raining lightly, a faint, misty drizzle that hardly managed to pierce through the thick fog that clouded the city and enveloped the buildings around him in a tight blanket. The sky above was the color of mud, cloaking the city in a strange, chocolate-colored pall. Behind him, the evening sun was just beginning to disappear beneath the horizon, broken streams of sunlight filtering in between the swirling wreaths of fog and dust that hung suspended in the air.

The air was sticky and hot, and Jack's blond curls were limp and slightly damp around his forehead as he brushed them aside. Even though fall was fast approaching—it was almost late September—the sweltering summer heat still tormented the city, refusing to relent its warmth.

Jack sighed and stuffed his hands deep inside the pocket of his slacks. She was standing in one of the narrow aisles nestled in between two tall, looming bookcases, and was the most beautiful thing that had caught his attention in a long, long time. Her fingers were leisurely flipping through the pages of a softcover book, the title on the spine unreadable from his vantage point outside.

He studied her through the window closely, not sure why he was so intrigued. She looked... normal, but somehow stunning enough to catch his immediate attention at the same time. Her medium length hair was drawn up into a loose ponytail and was strung through the back loop of a faded, navy blue baseball cap. She was wearing dark blue jeans and a cardigan.

He didn't know how long he had stood out in the drizzling rain on the sidewalk simply watching her, but what he did know was that he couldn't take his eyes off her. She wasn't model-esque looking by any means, nor did she seem to have any noticeable, striking features about her. She looked ordinary, and maybe that's what appealed to him most about her, the fact that she didn't look so fake or overdone.

Jack suddenly found that regardless of him and his usual tendencies to keep to his reclusive self, he wanted to talk to her. He knew that over the years he had become increasingly less social with the opposite sex, but he still took notice of them from time to time. He wasn't oblivious to the occasional pretty girl now and then. Striking up conversations with them, however, had proven futile over the years. He had had a few successful dates at one point in his life, but they had all ended the same way: with a gentle rejection that went something along the lines of, "it's just not working out," when Jack knew the real reason was that these women couldn't stand the attention and stares that his facial disfigurement drew in public.

There had been one girl that had seemed promising, though. He remembered her well. She was a pretty, petite little thing with short brown hair, cool blue eyes, and a bubbly personality. Forever an optimist, always smiling despite the rain and the shit and piss that was Gotham City, and never taking a single thing for granted. They had only dated for six months, but Jack was already head over heels for her and wanted to marry her. On the night of his planned proposal, however, she dropped the proverbial bomb. Now he can't remember her exact words, but he remembers she had cried and told him she felt terrible for leading him on, for dating him because she felt sorry for him, for the way people looked at him and the way he was treated and the scars. It was always about the scars.

He hadn't dated anyone since.

Pursuing women bored him and he didn't enjoy it after that; he wasn't a girl-chaser, and he never had been one to begin with. He wasn't awkward around women, not by any means, it just seemed that he always had trouble trying to strike up a conversation with them, mostly because he was never truly interested.

Instead, he buried himself in his work, and when he wasn't working, he was at home, reading or conducting experiments about the things he had read about. Over the years, he had gained a vast knowledge of random tidbits and interesting facts, none of which had proved useful in his job field, but still remained interesting to him nonetheless.

Licking his lips, Jack determined to go in and talk to her—or at least try to. He was probably a little rusty, but he knew he had very little to lose in the way of pride—not after all the rejection he'd been through. Besides, it was hot outside and his clothes were beginning to cling to him uncomfortably in the evening heat.

Stepping under the small, green and white-striped awning, he opened the door as a bell chimed from overhead. Immediately he was hit with a blast of cool air, and he sighed as he felt his shoulders relax, as if a weight had been lifted.

The bookstore was an independent shop with dark, tall bookcases that loomed overhead. Low-hanging, dimly lit lights were suspended from the ceiling between the aisles of books while tables with matching wooden chairs were scattered in the back. The store was empty and quiet, much like outside. The scent of old, dusty books and the creamy, sensual scent of a woman's lingering perfume hung in the air as he stepped further inside. Jack found it oddly pleasing.

Jack slicked back his hair and straightened out the wrinkles in his jacket as he neared the woman's aisle.

When he was standing at the end of it, he was able to get a closer look at her.

The first thing he noticed was that she was tall, but still shorter than his lengthy frame, as most women generally were. She was slim and had long legs and a cute, shapely mouth. She also appeared to be somewhere in her early twenties, maybe a few years younger than him, then.

He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair, turning away from her and pretending to browse through a nearby bookshelf when she suddenly glanced up. What am I doing? he wondered, feigning interest at the books stacked on the shelf in front of him. What if she had a boyfriend? What if she was married?

He swallowed again as more doubts began to weigh in his mind. She was cute, yes, but was also probably no different from all the other women he had met.

With this thought in mind, he began to eye the exit sign above the door in the back, thinking that he'd take a shortcut home.

As he turned to leave the aisle, however, he suddenly crashed straight into the woman's back, not aware that she had moved from her spot and had been standing behind him.

Startled, she let out a small gasp, her book falling to the floor. She spun around to meet Jack, placing a hand on her heaving chest.

"Oh, you scared me," she breathed, laughing.

"Sorry," he apologized, his brows drawing together in concern, "I really should watch where I'm going." He pulled a face and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Are you okay?"

She smiled gently at him and nodded. "I'm fine," she assured him. She stared up at him from underneath the navy blue baseball cap, and, even though she tried to be nonchalant about it, he could feel her eyes roaming over the expanse of his scars. Jack felt a wave of sick familiarity come over him and had to make a conscious effort not to grimace. Here we go again.

However, instead of commenting on the strangeness of his scars or asking questions like most others did, she simply bit her lip, a small blush coloring her cheeks as silence lingered between them.

Jack swallowed and bent down to pick up her book for her. He flipped it over and read the cover as he stood, his face contorting into one of genuine surprise upon seeing the title.

"Crime and Punishment? That's a little dark, don't you think?"

"Oh." The woman laughed gently, and the sound reminded him of the tinkling bells, pleasant to his ears. She looked up at him and blushed, pink once again warming the apples of her cheeks. For some reason, he thought that was cute. "I suppose it is, isn't it?" She let her eyes briefly drop to the floor before looking up again. "I love crime novels," she confessed, idly fingering one of the buttons on her cardigan as she looked up at him.

Jack found the corner of his mouth pulling into a small smile. He was charmed by her almost shy and hesitant manner of speaking, her warm eyes and soft smile.

"Crime, uh? You're not a lawyer, are you?" he teased.

She laughed again. "No, no, just an English teacher."

Jack raised his brows, a silent inquiry.

"I teach high school students at Gotham Heights."

Jack was familiar with the school and knew it was in Downtown Gotham, in one of the hard-boiled, razor-edged areas of the city that you typically didn't venture into late at night. One of those areas where the train was usually safer than a cab; you never knew what kind of robbers and rapists might be prowling the streets at night with falsely-marked taxi cabs. Worse yet was walking the streets alone, after dark, when the hustle and bustle of the city sidewalks had abated and the streets were no longer packed with cars. Jack found himself trying to imagine a woman like her walking home alone after a long day at work, and he was surprised by the physical reaction he felt, a tight, uneasy coiling in his gut. He cleared his head and nodded his head.

"I'm familiar with the school. Nasty area of town though."

She nodded too. "It is, yes." For a moment, more silence ensued between them. Jack watched the way her eyelashes skimmed the top of her cheekbones when she lowered her gaze. When she looked up, she was shyly offering her hand with a gentle smile. "I'm Emma, by the way."

"Jack," he replied with a half smile, "Jack Napier." His hand firmly grasped hers as they shook, Jack holding on a bit longer than necessary. "Your hands are warm," he noted suddenly, not quite sure why he had felt the need to comment on that aloud.

She looked up at him from underneath the brim of her baseball cap as they let go. "Yours are cold," she quietly returned.

He grinned at her then, amused by her reply while Emma dropped her eyes to the old, frayed carpet and blushed. Jack licked his lips and stepped closer to her as a stranger shuffled past them in the narrow isle. Jack suddenly nodded his head, indicating to her attire. "Your uh, your sweater," he swallowed, "I think you buttoned it wrong."

"What?" She suddenly looked up at him in surprise and then down when she noticed where his eyes were. "Oh," she exclaimed, laughing when she noticed that she had slipped the third button through the second hole.. "I don't know what I was thinking." She smiled, embarrassed, and proceeded to button her sweater correctly.

Another awkward pause ensued, and Jack, not knowing what else to do, outstretched his hand again. "Here's your book."

As she reached for it, Jack felt her fingers brush against his and he swore he felt electricity spark between them. It was like something straight out of some cheesy romance novel, but he couldn't deny the feeling. He looked up into her eyes to see if she had felt the same thing he had, but she let on no indication. God, what was wrong with him? Why did he suddenly feel this way?

"Thank you." She placed the book on the shelf behind her and turned back around. When it seemed that there was nothing more to say, Jack sighed and glanced outside, noticing that the brown, smog-covered sky was beginning to darken as the sun dipped lower. "I should probably get going," he said a bit reluctantly. He surprised himself by secretly hoping that she would try to stop him.

Emma nodded her head in understanding and stepped back slightly. "It was nice meeting you, Jack."

"Yeah, you too." He smiled lamely at her and then awkwardly shifted past her and towards the door.

What's wrong with me? he wondered. He had never acted that way around women before.

As he moved past the counter and placed his hand on the knob of the door, feeling idiotic and wondering what had gotten into him, he suddenly halted in his tracks when he heard Emma's voice floating back to him.

"Wait," she called, and he turned to see her coming towards him. She smiled almost apologetically at him when she was standing before him. "Listen," she feebly began, loosely hugging her sides, "I don't . . . I don't normally do this but I . . . well," she paused, biting her bottom lip. "I was just wondering if maybe you'd like to get some coffee or something. I could pay . . . ?" she trailed off and looked up, anxiously awaiting his reply.

Jack was surprised, that much he knew was obvious for her to see. Was she really not appalled by his scars? After all, she was the one to ask him out and not the other way around, so there was no way she was simply doing it out of pity.

After a painstaking moment, Jack licked his lips and furrowed his brows. Folding his arms a bit defensively across his chest, he leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice to a whisper. "You're not trying to get in my pants, are you?" he asked seriously, the playful gleam in his eye giving him away.

Emma was unable to hold back a laugh, and she blushed again. God, he loved when she did that.

"No no," she assured quickly, "just in the mood for coffee is all," she smiled.

"I think I can do that," he replied after a moment.

She couldn't help but smile back at him as he did the same to her. "Perfect."