A little something before we begin.

I haven't seen the film yet because my life is too hectic so I'm just going off what I've seen elsewhere and what I imagine.

This will be AU or an alternative story, whatever you want to make of it really.

Of course Jai Courtney as Boomerang. ;)

I hope you enjoy.

I don't hate my life…

I just sometimes hate the people in it. The people I've dedicated to serve. The hours I've signed my life away to. My boss, and the dwindling numbers of my bank account…

I'm the waitress behind one of the many bars in Gotham, dutifully plastering an obscure smile on my face while trying to divert my nose from the intoxicating scent of many frequenting customers who usually tend to lean too far over my safety gauge of the bar.

The room is clammy, dimly lit and swirling with the distinct smell of turned beer laden beneath the red and blue swirling carpet. The fact that I just committed myself to extra hours working mainly weekends is somewhat depressing, but maybe by the end of next month I'll be able to eat something other than tinned beans and rustic tap water. It's ironic, paying for an apartment you're never in.

"Glasses, Eunice." I roll my eyes, hating the way my name would be spat out of the larger woman's mouth. I loathe being called by my full name.

Carol barrels past me to a customer, then to the taps before knocking my elbow on her way out-back. "Now, please," she adds though it's said very acid-like. I nod, keeping my trap shut and open the heavy topped bar to step out. Her pleasantries were few and far between and I wasn't going to test her mood.

It doesn't take long, and I'm an expert bum-pincher-dodger, before I'm back behind my barrier, finishing the glasses from the dishwasher I was readily doing before she interrupted me. I'm safe here, or so I think, until Carol stops dead in front of me. "You've got a call, and what have I told you about personal calls in working hours?" She squints her dark, beady eyes at me. At times, I think it makes her look more like a Tim Burton character than a real person.

I want to react and express at how much of my time is spent here or sleeping whenever I can in my apartment when I'm not here. I want to say I dropped my brick of a phone and smashed it last Thursday and can't afford to buy another. I want to say I need a pay-rise.

But I need this job, so instead I settle for nothing but compliance. "I'm sorry Carol, just having a little trouble with a few things." I slide past her and go out-back to the small hooked up phone on the wall. "Yes?"

"Yeah, er, hi. It's the guy from the garage." There's a screeching sound in the background, banging and clanging and I somehow think if I press the receiver harder against my ear that I'll hear him better. "You've blown the gasket."

"What!?" I throw my hands to my greasy brown hair, running my fingers through the end of the ponytail. "I sent it in with a small coolant problem!" I settle for violently pinching the bridge of my nose rather than slamming the receiver against the wall and imagining his face.

"Listen Ma'am, your car's old, and if you want some half-decent advice, I'd say scrap the damn thing. Find one of those suppliers who give you a hundred bucks or something for it. Me, I wouldn't pay fifty."

"Shiiiit…" I sigh in utter defeat. Looks like I'll be taking the bus in the foreseeable future. "Can you hold it for me till I figure something out?"

"You mean park it on the side of the road outside? Yeah, sure, I don't think it's gonna go very far." He faintly chuckles in my misery. "Listen it's late, Friday night workshop is finished and I've got a growling stomach to feed."

I nod absently, knowing about that all too well, even though he can't see the movement. "Thanks for your help." I slam the phone down and lean back against the cold wall, willing my bad luck to end at some point in my life.

I jump with a startle as Carol suddenly enters, throwing down her apron that she can't physically do up around her belly anymore. "I'm outta' here."

I should have seen this coming. "It's Friday night? You know we get busy." I try to point out.

She shrugs carelessly. "And you know I got things to do. Make sure you put the alarm on when you leave." It's pathetic her telling me how to close the bar up; I do it practically every night anyway. But to be fair, with her gone, I can relax a little more.

"I'll see you tomorrow."

She doesn't say goodbye, just walks passed me. To her, I'm nothing but an annoyance, but an annoyance she needs to keep her bar running. I watch her walk all the way out the back, down the long corridor and out through the fire exit without any second-thoughts. Maybe I should've told her I could see her bum crack; knowing her, she wouldn't give a shit.

I re-enter to the bar, scooping up any glasses as I go on the side. It's not too busy, not as busy as it usually was for a Friday, but perhaps someone is finally looking over me right now and taking pity on my poor worthless soul.

The steam from the dishwasher rises up when I open it; it's halfway through a cycle to which I didn't realize Carol had even turned it on. I wouldn't put it past her as a form of malice.

The water drips down the sides and begins forming a puddle onto the floor. I reach for a dish cloth from the side and tug it harshly to only have had a customer put a glass on, to in my despair. It smashes millimeters from my head and I swear I'm close to tears. "Oh, fuck it!" I slam the door of the dishwasher and throw the cloth to the ground, rubbing my forehead furiously.

"Rough night?" Sounds from somewhere around me, and my head is still violently pumping. I can't bring myself to look.

"Try rough year… years…" I finally settle for. "What can I get you?"

"Just a good beer and summit for the pretty lady."

I look now, mainly because of his strange accent I don't usually hear, and also because I'm looking for a woman. My eyes land on just a scruffy looking guy with thick lamb-chops and a dark colored beanie. He sees my quizzical gaze and smiles cockily, exposing a gold tooth.

"I was talkin' about you," he says grittily and hugely suggestively. Like I haven't heard all the tricks and disastrous lines in the book. I pour his pint in silence and he gives me cash. In the passing, I notice he has gloved hands and because of my staring, he flexes them. "Ya wanna tell me about it?"

"With you?"

"No with me Ma outside," his voice gets a little gruffer. He takes a long swig and slams the glass down on the counter, his eyes closing while he savors the taste.

I shiver at his crudeness, responding lightly, "No, thanks," while trying to recoil away to the furthest part of the bar.

"I want another, doll." He motions before the first one is finished and before I have time to get away. "Keep 'em comin'."

"Maybe you have had a worse night than me…" I trail off, now polishing glasses around me rather than seem overly interested. Maybe he's ex-military; he looks too beefy to be homeless and the drinking suggests some type of trauma… Or maybe he was of the gang guys we see regularly in these parts and I'm just a fool.

I slide the fresh glass to him, and it makes him look at me. "What's ya doin' in a place like this?" The dim lights make the shadow around his eyes darker, almost highlighting the fact he's completely filthy, but there is no shame there. He doesn't look away, almost smiles again at me. In his own confidence, I find myself a little willing to talk.

"I guess you could say I drew the short straw in life."

"Someone's gotta take the bottom while others ride the top." It was a two-way answer and he's still smiling. It's so stupid I actually bring my hand up to my mouth and hide the chuckle. "There, I got ya."

"Okay, you win that one." I wipe the sides of the glass I'm holding down with a cloth, taking someone's order in-between and I can feel him watching me.

He sniffs, turning in his chair in the direction I'm going and playing with the collar of his trench coat, waiting patiently for the person to leave before speaking. "Hey'er, you got a boyfriend?"

I shake my head. "No, and I'm not looking either." But he still seems pleased with my reply. "You?" I smirk.

He nods in appreciation, sucking in his bottom lip. Underneath all the dirt and hair, there is something strangely attractive about him. "Ah nice, yeh not just made of stone then."

"And you're not my type…" Saying the words out loud almost help me confirm them in my mind. But it wasn't a lie either, usually my tastes fall on guys with no facial hair, pristine appearances and the asshole kind of persona. Maybe that's where I'm also going wrong.

Something ignites in his eyes suddenly, like a challenge, a thrill, and he shifts more in his seat. He downs the rest of his beer and wipes his mouth on his jacket sleeve. "Yah gonna tell me what's happened?"

I almost forgot he asked and my mouth opens then closes a few times before I pick the right words. "My boss hates me. My car hates me. Money avoids me, and I'm stuck in a never ending black hole." I shrug at him while he squints at me. "You asked remember?" I unthinkingly go to take his glass, but he keeps a hold of it so I have to touch him. My fingertips brush against his hand but I stupidly don't let go. "Did you… want another?"

"That all depends if yeh gonna take one with meh this time."

"I don't drink on the job, and I especially don't drink beer." He lets go of the glass but shakes his head at another beer.

"Give us a little somethin' harder." In his inside pocket, there is a wodge of notes he files through before landing a few on the bar. "Go on, live a little."

I cave after a brief moment, mainly because Carol's not here and he has an evil influence that is hard to resist. His eyes light up when I place down two glasses and fill them with a random amber liquid.

"Good girl," he drawls, grabbing at the glass. "All in." He clinks the side of my glass and we shoot it at the same time.

The alcohol doesn't affect him at all, but it does me. It burns and my whole face scrunches up as I feel it running down my throat. I hear him chuckling.

"So what do I call ya?"

"My name is Eunice. But you can call me Euna." I smile, watching as he seems to be taken aback.

He leans forward, motioning me to lean in, so I do. "Euna, like in… Eunacorn?" he whispers.

My face couldn't be any more perplexed than it is now. His features darken at me and I realize his eyes are a strangely faded kind of blue, but the pupils are blown.

"I guess…"

Leaning away to get out of his intensity, he grabs my hand, slapping something into them before walking away backwards.

"Ya call me Digger," he points an index finger towards me then leaves me standing confused, watching him leave in all his trench coat-beanie-booted glory. In a way, I didn't actually want him to go; he helped kill the time. I wonder if he knew that he made my evening that little bit more bearable.

But the evidence he knew is solidly in my hand.

I open it up to 500 dollars.

The next morning, I wake up earlier than I usually would.

Usually, I'd sleep in so I could skip a meal and not spend money. Alternatively, it also saved on my electricity bill too. But I blew that first thing when I turned on the small box TV to watch crap, everything else seemed to just come as a package after.

And that's how I find myself outside a coffee shop, almost forcing my way inside and out of the rain and dark clouds that hover over the city. I flap my umbrella by the door and stroll to the counter, for once feeling like I belong with the stash of money in my bag. However, I find it strange when somebody else serves me; usually it's me in their position.

"Latte, extra cream. Oh, and a blueberry muffin." The lady smiles as she takes my order. Their TV, sitting on the counter behind the barista, which is on low in the background, is similar to mine at home, and I focus in on the overly white smile of the male reporter. At the bottom it reads 'Bank robberies and jewel thefts in Gotham city being investigated by police' repeating over and over on a yellow strip as he speaks, so I guess that's what he's reporting about. My latte arrives along with my muffin causing me to look away and I find a neat little table in the corner by the window.

This extraordinary breakfast is going to be savored. Every single crumb and drop of it. The first sip has me humming in absolute delight and bunching my shoulders up as I let my eyes close.

A bang on the window has almost the entire cup ending up in my lap and I frown at the person, only to be caught in surprise.

Lamb-chops waves at me with a huge grin, and then I realize he's coming in.

Shit.

He's not like the folk in here. Everyone almost drops silent as he enters while he just peers around the room with indifference. He makes his way over, and the first thing he does… he leans over me and chomps a huge mouthful of my muffin, straight off the top.

"Hey!" I protest but he just slings himself down in the seat opposite me.

"Glorious," he says through his mouthful, wringing out his beanie while crumbs spray the tabletop. "Weather's fantastic here." I want to take back any remotely nice compliment I may have had about him. He's a complete brute paying no mind to the huge puddles he's causing, but it's kind of entertaining in way and I hide my grin from him.

"You couldn't be more sarcastic if you tried." I sit a little more slack when he seems to relax and I sip my drink again. I watch him over the brim of my cup secretly. "What are you doing here?"

He shrugs a shoulder, rain still clinging to his jacket running downward with the movement. "Saw yeh and thought yah looked lonely. Don't mind me?"

"No," I say without thinking only to find he was actually talking about my muffin because he eats almost half of it.

"It's been a long night," he rudely talks with his mouth full some more.

I snatch the rest out of his hand and glare at him. "That was mine, and I'm asking why you are in this part of town."

"Why are you in this part of town?" He taps the table expectantly, wiggling his eyebrows.

Leaning forward, I copy the tone he uses. "I live here. What's your excuse?"

"I live here too." Then he laughs. "I'm only pulling yah leg. I was just around…" I can see him eyeing up a woman to our right, her skirt dangerously high. It makes me overly conscious of my baggy jeans and sweatshirt along with my unbothered hair, so I down my latte.

Already pushing myself to my feet, I mutter, "Right, well good to see you, and hope you find what you're looking for in Gotham."

"I've found it; I just don't know what to do about it." His reply has me stop in my gathering of personal belongings and staring at him. "See I got this friend, who's havin' a bit of bother."

"A friend?" I say sarcastically, laughing a little. I almost can't believe someone like him has a friend. But he moves his elbows onto the table and hunches over it towards me. He smells like my blueberry muffin.

"He lives in a dangerous city, his life is questionable, and he really likes unicorns."

I sit back down. "Sounds like a bad nursery rhyme." I play with the froth left over on my cup as I talk, eyes downcast.

"Yeah, yeah it is," he says rustically, the words grumbled low. "The thing is there's a feisty little Sheila thrown into his mind by accident."

I look up and he's smiling, then a delicate hand lands on my shoulder.

"Euna?" says the petite blonde that is suddenly next to me.

Digger finishes with, "Corn," under his breath.

I squint at the blonde for a while then realize it's a woman who lives in the same complex as me. "Oh, hey." I don't know her name, she's new. I'm mainly entertained by the way lamb boy looks between the two of us in utter joy, his eyes roaming over her clothes; her very flattering top accentuates her breasts and her tight jeans cling to her thighs and butt. He doesn't do that to me and I find myself frowning.

"You said you were too busy for coffee mornings?" I remember her name now, Chloe. Chloe from the first floor. "And you're here, what do you know…"

I try to force a smile but it's definitely more of a grimace. "Yeah… life's funny…" I try to fake laugh but I must sound like a pig as the two just stare at me. "But I usually am. I mean, I work nights…" Could I come across as anymore self-preserving right now? In between it all I'm blushing, and now I'm guilty, and… shit.

"I managed to persuade her. She's not dodging," Digger puts out there. He holds his hand out to shake hers, and he does so, roughly. "Nice to meet ya, love."

She's instantly curious. "And you are?"

"A friend…" He looks at me winking. "A very good friend."

My mouth drops open and I feel like throwing my stirring spoon at him. "We met at the bar where I work… once," I scowl.

"An I've regretted it ever since. She tried to kiss meh an it all went really awkward and we were just talking' it over. Don't mind do ya?" He doesn't wait for her reply. "Ta, love."

"Oh, yeah… well." She takes a step backwards. "I'll see you around. I hope you get it sorted."

My smile is painted on till she's out of ear shot and I kick him under the table. "Good one, doofus!" I grab my rain-coat, throwing it over my shoulders and now I feel like a giant sack of potatoes. I huff, looking down at myself, almost about to say something and realize it's not worth it.

"Ahh, c'mon… it worked didn't it." He follows behind me till I get to the door and I open my umbrella. He pushes his way under and tries to hold it for me. "Ya really think she'd have given up unless it was awkward?"

Yanking the umbrella from him, I leave him in the rain. "I look desperate."

"Desperately hot when angry."

"I look like a sack of POTATOES!" I yell. A person walking past, steps to one side to get away from us. Looking at him sharply, he's hiding a smile under his hand as he rubs his thick fingers through his facial hair. "Why are you following me? Haven't you got someone else to… I dunno, annoy?"

"But yah so satisfying."

"Grr!" My throat hurts from my threatening growl. My fists bunch up and I blush furiously.

He looks up the street before he does me again; I'm obviously not scary in the slightest. "I was on my way to somewhere when I saw yah, I'm not followin' yeh."

"Well keep going."

"Harsh, doll. Listen, there is one thing I can help ya with, if you're willing, and if you stop being so deliciously feisty."

I start walking away, calling over my shoulder, "Not interested."

"Ya want money, right?"

I stop, remembering the feel of the 500 dollars in my hands. Biting my lip, there was no reasonable voice in my head telling me to walk away because he was more than right. I need the money and with the small taste of freedom this morning with what he gave me the night before. I really don't want it to end. I turn, announcing, "You have one minute to explain, then I'm walking away."

He pockets his hands, taking small steps so he can speak lowly. "I need someone I can trust. Can I trust you?" With the words sounding sincere and the frown on my face, it pushes him on. "I need a stash. Somewhere I can store a few bits."

I frown. "What bits are we talking about?"

"Nothing bad… just personal things."

I should've taken the glint in his eye as a lie, but I'm beyond desperate with now not having a car. I look down the street then back to him. "And you're going to pay me to store them for you?"

"Yep." I stare at the droplets of water forming on his beard. We are both thoroughly soaked by now despite my umbrella, and it causes me to sniff, hastening my decision.

"So…" I squint at him, moving closer. "Does that mean you're going to know where I live?"

He blinks at me if it was a really stupid question, it probably was. "I'd need to know. I'm not guessin' 'ere."

I sigh. "Well then, there are house rules," I say quickly, before he gets any ideas. He seems amused. I've basically just accepted the offer without really saying it. "You can't just turn up… I have a social life…" I lie. "And you don't touch my stuff." I really don't have a lot of stuff either…

"So, it's a deal?" He puts his hand out.

I hesitate for a fraction of a moment. Maybe this was the beginning to an end of my bad luck.

Swallowing down my self-reservations, I put my arm out, and hand in hand we shake. He almost crushes me in the process. "A little hard there, fella," I hiss and he loosens. "Better."

"Here, write your address." He hands me a scruffy, crumpled napkin from the coffee shop. This was his plan along.

Fetching a pen from my purse, I roughly scribble it, even though the rain is saturating the tissue. "I'll catch ya at the bar," he says distractedly, pocketing it, and then strolls off without another word.

Shit. What have I got myself into?

Digger didn't turn up at the bar and I'm furious at myself for relying on a deceiving man such as himself.

The whole journey home on the bus I cussed him down, hoping I never saw his stupid bearded face again, and received looks from the people surrounding me as I must've looked like a looney. It's just another thing to grumble about him—which, I'm doing, while brushing my hair viciously after my shower and in my lovely pink flannel pajamas.

He drew my hopes up and crushed them all in one day. Idiot... Moron... Shithead.

A knock on the door has me freeze. No one ever comes to see me and especially this late at night.

I trudge over and open it to the glinting gold tooth and a slanted body against the door frame. He peers down at my pajamas for almost an eternity and the embarrassment is raw.

"There's me little Eunacorn," Digger says.

I come to the conclusion that random visits are now in the contract despite my warning, and against my better judgment, I wave him inside

A/N

All chapters are currently being Edited by my lovely Beta, K. Riley

Big huge thanks to her, she does have a task!

Thank you to everyone too for following, commenting etc on this story!