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Entry tags:
Fic: Night Encounter
Pairing: Scarecrow/Kitten
Rating: PG
Summary: Jonathan happens across Kitten one night.
AN: This was inspired by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
meletor_et_al's Kitten fic Chivalric Code. Thanks go to her for the inspiration and to melty_girl for the lovely beta. I changed some stuff afterwards, though, so any remaining mistakes are mine.
She looks out of place here. Too much brightness in a backdrop of rusty depression and filth. Must be new in town, residents know better than to wander these streets at this hour of night dressed so… prettily. I’m not partial to pastels, but that blue dress does look particularly fetching on her. It’s a party dress, -- that would explain why she’s walking about so late. But she really must take more precautions if she wants to survive these streets. She hardly notices me as she passes me by, -- just a quick glance and her eyes are once more facing forward. She should have kept them peeled to the side, for that is where he comes from, this petty thief, one of the many who infest this city. She seems so scared; she should be seeing how that man looks her over as he points his gun at her. He snatches her little bag and a ring that she removes from her finger with an anguish that suggests a dear connection to it.
He doesn’t notice me until he trips on my outstretched leg as he runs past me. The crash to the ground only disorients him momentarily, but it doesn’t matter. I may not have my usual garb on tonight but my latest batch is always with me, standing ready just below my sleeve. As soon as he faces me, I spray it on him. I never get tired of this, the slow dawning of the toxin as it enters their system and starts devouring them from within. It always brings a smile to my face. He’s whimpering, the pathetic creature, his eyes wide with a fear that belongs to me and only me. He raises his gun, but I’ve already noticed something he hasn’t: the idiot left the safety on. The trigger clicks uselessly under his finger. I kick the gun out of his hand and grab the purse and ring. Then I lean in close to that so very frightened face and say, “Boo.” He scrambles to his feet and speeds away faster than if the Bat himself were on his tail. I pick up the gun and slip it under my coat.
She’s still standing in the same spot when I turn to her, looking so adorably like a deer caught in headlights.
“Thank you so much. I never expected someone would do that. I…”
She’s breathless and shocked and so very grateful and suddenly this feels like one of those scenes where the gallant gentleman rescues the damsel. But I am certainly no noble knight who saves the helpless. The city already has one of those (though he is no gentleman either, I assure you). I don’t make a habit of helping pretty ladies out of tight spots -- that’s not why I aided her, though her appearance is more than pleasing. Hers is not a face one is likely to forget next week or even the month after that. Even with just the scanty light of a broken street light overhead, her face is luminescent. Beautiful. I wonder when I started liking women. But I don’t wonder long. I’m fairly perceptive, I figured Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, for the Bat Man he is the first moment I ran into him. And I can hear it -- just a hint, easily missed -- in her voice. She’s more than she seems and I’m glad I followed that incomprehensible urge to catch her assailant, even as I told myself that it was just for a bit of fun.
I hand over her things and she takes them eagerly, her hand touching mine for a brief moment. Her eyes, a blue so like my own, shine with grateful happiness, and I feel strange. It’s been a long time since someone looked at me so intensely with anything but fear.
“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.” Even my voice sounds reassuring. “These streets aren’t safe even in daytime.”
“I know.” Her hands flutter about like busy little bees. “And it’s not like I haven’t been in these scrapes before, but I guess I didn’t think. You’re very kind for helping me.” She takes a step closer to me, her face lit up in a sweet, little smile. I can smell her perfume, a light scent that reminds me of lilies. “I hardly saw you at all back there, but I thought you might be a thief, and then quite the opposite ends up being true. Isn’t it funny how things turn out sometimes?”
She’s rambling -- probably nervousness or the adrenaline from the robbery still in her blood. Or maybe I’m looking at her a little too intensely as I sometimes do. But I really can’t help myself.
“Do you live near here?” I ask.
“Yes, just two blocks north on State.” Her accent confirms her outside provenance; Irish, I think.
“I could walk you there, make sure you don’t have a repeat experience.”
“Why, thank you. I would appreciate it very much. I’ve never liked walking these streets but I haven’t been able to find someplace better.”
We start walking north. She stays close to me throughout -- any closer and I’d be feeling the fabric of her dress slide over her skin. I wouldn’t object to that, most definitely not. I wonder if she’s cold. That little light cashmere coat can’t be enough to keep out the coolness of the nascent autumn. She tells me she’s only been here a month, that she was looking for someplace new where she could leave her old worries behind. I don’t tell her that Gotham will breed all new sorts of worries, possibly worse than the ones that came before. I just listen like I haven’t done since the last time I had a proper consultation with a patient I wasn’t experimenting on. But then it wasn’t like this; none were even remotely as interesting as this pretty girl at my side. Her words are open and guileless in a way that no one else’s are in this city. Even after what’s just happened, she’s confiding in a total stranger. Such innocence just isn’t seen here; it can’t survive. Were this a year from now, would she sound the same? I’m one of the darker influences afflicting this city, I know that -- I revel in it. But she’s such a warm ray of light in the bleak night. Any other person would be whimpering at my feet as I loomed over them triumphant, but not this one, because I wouldn’t hurt her. I can’t explain to myself why; I just wouldn’t. Nor would I let anyone else do so.
We arrive at the entrance of her apartment building. It’s as dirty and smelly as every other building on this street, truly not fit for someone like her. Were I still Jonathan Crane with my respectable profession and a nice apartment, I’d be tempted to take her home with me. As things stand now, best leave things as they are.
“Here we are,” she announces and there’s a touch of regret in her voice. “Oh, I just realized: all this time and I’ve yet to introduce myself. And I don’t know your name either. I’m Patricia Kitten Braden.”
I raise an eyebrow and I smile. Kitten? That name leads to some interesting possibilities. She holds out her hand. Instead of shaking it, I lift it to my mouth and lay the briefest of kisses on her knuckles, relishing the feel of her soft skin on my lips. She blushes, a girlish giggle escaping her lips.
“Pleased to meet you, Kitten.”
Now what name do I give her? There’s not a chance that I’ll tell her my true name. The former one will have to do, even though I haven’t been Jonathan Crane in a long time. If she’s only been here a month, she probably won’t recognize it.
“Jonathan Crane.”
“Jonathan.” She lays her hand on my shoulder and idly plays with the collar of my sweater. “I like that name.” Her voice is such a seductive little whisper. Not a shy one, this one, despite the lost, little girl appearance. Who is she, I wonder, who can look so pure in a world as screwed up as this?
“I’m glad to hear that,“ I say. “Though I like yours better. I best be leaving you then, let you get settled.”
I step back but she doesn’t let me get far.
“Wait.” Worry shows in her face. “You don’t have to go so soon. You could come up with me. The apartment isn’t much but we could talk or whatever you want to do. You could tell me about you. All this time I’ve just been blabbing about myself.”
I take her hand from my shoulder and give it a sqeeze before releasing it.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “but I really have to get going. There are some affairs that I must attend to.”
“But, could you at least give me your phone number or some way I can reach you? I’d like to see you again.”
I smile reassuringly. “I’m afraid that I don’t have phone service at present. But don’t worry. I won‘t disappear on you. You’ll see me, I promise.”
She doesn’t look too satisfied, but she accepts this. I don’t think I’ve seen someone look so disappointed to see me leave before. I watch as she climbs the steps, places the key in the keyhole and enters the building , glancing at me as the door closes behind her.
Rating: PG
Summary: Jonathan happens across Kitten one night.
AN: This was inspired by
meletor_et_al's Kitten fic Chivalric Code. Thanks go to her for the inspiration and to melty_girl for the lovely beta. I changed some stuff afterwards, though, so any remaining mistakes are mine.She looks out of place here. Too much brightness in a backdrop of rusty depression and filth. Must be new in town, residents know better than to wander these streets at this hour of night dressed so… prettily. I’m not partial to pastels, but that blue dress does look particularly fetching on her. It’s a party dress, -- that would explain why she’s walking about so late. But she really must take more precautions if she wants to survive these streets. She hardly notices me as she passes me by, -- just a quick glance and her eyes are once more facing forward. She should have kept them peeled to the side, for that is where he comes from, this petty thief, one of the many who infest this city. She seems so scared; she should be seeing how that man looks her over as he points his gun at her. He snatches her little bag and a ring that she removes from her finger with an anguish that suggests a dear connection to it.
He doesn’t notice me until he trips on my outstretched leg as he runs past me. The crash to the ground only disorients him momentarily, but it doesn’t matter. I may not have my usual garb on tonight but my latest batch is always with me, standing ready just below my sleeve. As soon as he faces me, I spray it on him. I never get tired of this, the slow dawning of the toxin as it enters their system and starts devouring them from within. It always brings a smile to my face. He’s whimpering, the pathetic creature, his eyes wide with a fear that belongs to me and only me. He raises his gun, but I’ve already noticed something he hasn’t: the idiot left the safety on. The trigger clicks uselessly under his finger. I kick the gun out of his hand and grab the purse and ring. Then I lean in close to that so very frightened face and say, “Boo.” He scrambles to his feet and speeds away faster than if the Bat himself were on his tail. I pick up the gun and slip it under my coat.
She’s still standing in the same spot when I turn to her, looking so adorably like a deer caught in headlights.
“Thank you so much. I never expected someone would do that. I…”
She’s breathless and shocked and so very grateful and suddenly this feels like one of those scenes where the gallant gentleman rescues the damsel. But I am certainly no noble knight who saves the helpless. The city already has one of those (though he is no gentleman either, I assure you). I don’t make a habit of helping pretty ladies out of tight spots -- that’s not why I aided her, though her appearance is more than pleasing. Hers is not a face one is likely to forget next week or even the month after that. Even with just the scanty light of a broken street light overhead, her face is luminescent. Beautiful. I wonder when I started liking women. But I don’t wonder long. I’m fairly perceptive, I figured Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, for the Bat Man he is the first moment I ran into him. And I can hear it -- just a hint, easily missed -- in her voice. She’s more than she seems and I’m glad I followed that incomprehensible urge to catch her assailant, even as I told myself that it was just for a bit of fun.
I hand over her things and she takes them eagerly, her hand touching mine for a brief moment. Her eyes, a blue so like my own, shine with grateful happiness, and I feel strange. It’s been a long time since someone looked at me so intensely with anything but fear.
“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.” Even my voice sounds reassuring. “These streets aren’t safe even in daytime.”
“I know.” Her hands flutter about like busy little bees. “And it’s not like I haven’t been in these scrapes before, but I guess I didn’t think. You’re very kind for helping me.” She takes a step closer to me, her face lit up in a sweet, little smile. I can smell her perfume, a light scent that reminds me of lilies. “I hardly saw you at all back there, but I thought you might be a thief, and then quite the opposite ends up being true. Isn’t it funny how things turn out sometimes?”
She’s rambling -- probably nervousness or the adrenaline from the robbery still in her blood. Or maybe I’m looking at her a little too intensely as I sometimes do. But I really can’t help myself.
“Do you live near here?” I ask.
“Yes, just two blocks north on State.” Her accent confirms her outside provenance; Irish, I think.
“I could walk you there, make sure you don’t have a repeat experience.”
“Why, thank you. I would appreciate it very much. I’ve never liked walking these streets but I haven’t been able to find someplace better.”
We start walking north. She stays close to me throughout -- any closer and I’d be feeling the fabric of her dress slide over her skin. I wouldn’t object to that, most definitely not. I wonder if she’s cold. That little light cashmere coat can’t be enough to keep out the coolness of the nascent autumn. She tells me she’s only been here a month, that she was looking for someplace new where she could leave her old worries behind. I don’t tell her that Gotham will breed all new sorts of worries, possibly worse than the ones that came before. I just listen like I haven’t done since the last time I had a proper consultation with a patient I wasn’t experimenting on. But then it wasn’t like this; none were even remotely as interesting as this pretty girl at my side. Her words are open and guileless in a way that no one else’s are in this city. Even after what’s just happened, she’s confiding in a total stranger. Such innocence just isn’t seen here; it can’t survive. Were this a year from now, would she sound the same? I’m one of the darker influences afflicting this city, I know that -- I revel in it. But she’s such a warm ray of light in the bleak night. Any other person would be whimpering at my feet as I loomed over them triumphant, but not this one, because I wouldn’t hurt her. I can’t explain to myself why; I just wouldn’t. Nor would I let anyone else do so.
We arrive at the entrance of her apartment building. It’s as dirty and smelly as every other building on this street, truly not fit for someone like her. Were I still Jonathan Crane with my respectable profession and a nice apartment, I’d be tempted to take her home with me. As things stand now, best leave things as they are.
“Here we are,” she announces and there’s a touch of regret in her voice. “Oh, I just realized: all this time and I’ve yet to introduce myself. And I don’t know your name either. I’m Patricia Kitten Braden.”
I raise an eyebrow and I smile. Kitten? That name leads to some interesting possibilities. She holds out her hand. Instead of shaking it, I lift it to my mouth and lay the briefest of kisses on her knuckles, relishing the feel of her soft skin on my lips. She blushes, a girlish giggle escaping her lips.
“Pleased to meet you, Kitten.”
Now what name do I give her? There’s not a chance that I’ll tell her my true name. The former one will have to do, even though I haven’t been Jonathan Crane in a long time. If she’s only been here a month, she probably won’t recognize it.
“Jonathan Crane.”
“Jonathan.” She lays her hand on my shoulder and idly plays with the collar of my sweater. “I like that name.” Her voice is such a seductive little whisper. Not a shy one, this one, despite the lost, little girl appearance. Who is she, I wonder, who can look so pure in a world as screwed up as this?
“I’m glad to hear that,“ I say. “Though I like yours better. I best be leaving you then, let you get settled.”
I step back but she doesn’t let me get far.
“Wait.” Worry shows in her face. “You don’t have to go so soon. You could come up with me. The apartment isn’t much but we could talk or whatever you want to do. You could tell me about you. All this time I’ve just been blabbing about myself.”
I take her hand from my shoulder and give it a sqeeze before releasing it.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “but I really have to get going. There are some affairs that I must attend to.”
“But, could you at least give me your phone number or some way I can reach you? I’d like to see you again.”
I smile reassuringly. “I’m afraid that I don’t have phone service at present. But don’t worry. I won‘t disappear on you. You’ll see me, I promise.”
She doesn’t look too satisfied, but she accepts this. I don’t think I’ve seen someone look so disappointed to see me leave before. I watch as she climbs the steps, places the key in the keyhole and enters the building , glancing at me as the door closes behind her.
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this is fabulous. lovely and sweet, and so true to both characters. I love how Kitten can make the Scarecrow behave all heroically and ... well, with chivalry! you've also done the fantastic thing of portraying Kitten just flawlessly through another point of view, which I absolutely LOVE!
this is completely incredible; I'm reduced to enthusiastic squeeing. BWEEEE!!
*mem*
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I'm glad the characterizations came out all right. It's the first time I write Kitten and Scarecrow actually being nice for a change was a little odd, but not even he can resist Kitten's allure. There will be more of this, though I can't guarantee how soon I'll get it done.
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you have NO IDEA how happy I am to hear that!! take as much time as you need, sweetie! (though if you leave me hanging too long... I may explode ;))
I absolutely *love* this fic! honestly!
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--have you thought of posting at
(no, I will not stop fangirling you. quit looking at me like that.)
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Posting this at
threefour stories going on. Yes, they all have Scarecrow in them. No, I don't know when I'll get them posted.no subject
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fave lines:
He snatches her little bag and a ring that she removes from her finger with an anguish that suggests a dear connection to it.
But I am certainly no noble knight who saves the helpless. The city already has one of those (though he is no gentleman either, I assure you).
I smile reassuringly. “I’m afraid that I don’t have phone service at present. But don’t worry. I won‘t disappear on you. You’ll see me, I promise.”
I also love the pov here. i think you really have a terrific Crane going!
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I'm under the weather again... if I can just get myself a little more alert, Ill tackle your new stuff this weekend.
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I hope you feel better soon. I'll see if I can send you the next part of this before Friday.
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I'm glad you like my Scarecrow. Not even he is immune to Kitten's charms.
scarecrow
(Anonymous) 2010-11-28 01:49 pm (UTC)(link)yes true
even scarecrow isnt immune to kitten's innocent charm
loved it .. every single bit
keep writing