"We have him, sir," the voice on the line said. Jeremiah hung up immediately and stood abruptly. He had been trying to lure Wayne to capture but he hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. Maybe Bruce wasn't as special as he had hoped, the thought was dismissed at once. He had seen something in the younger man, something dark, contagious, and beautiful. He wasn't wrong about that.
"I'm sorry, Mister Cobblepot but I'll have to be on my way," Jeremiah said mildly as he placed his hat on. The birdlike man gawked at him, Jeremiah isn't sure he's used to having people walk out in the middle of a meeting, "I'll have someone call to reschedule this meeting at a better time," Jeremiah turned to leave.
"Jeremiah! I am not a man who likes have their time wasted," Oswald shouted as he stood from his desk. Jeremiah felt his anger rising. He had to leave now, he didn't want to keep Bruce waiting.
Jeremiah spun, head lowered as the brim of his head covered his face in shadows, "And I'm the kind of man who doesn't like to be told when and when not I may leave. So I believe it would be in your best interest to sit back down and allow me to leave without having to slaughter the men outside that door that will try and stop me," Jeremiah spit out. Gotham really had a way of getting under his skin, some days he misses his maze.
Oswald snarled at him before throwing his hands up, "You think of yourself as superior to everyone, Mister Valeska," he spits, "but one of these days you'll learn your just as human as the rest of us."
Jeremiah smiled, "Oh my feathered friend, you couldn't be more wrong. I have nothing I care about, which makes me far more intelligent than all of you."
Jeremiah approached the door and was about to open it when Oswald shouted, "What about Wayne?" Jeremiah paused and knew he had shown his hand, "That's what I thought. Not some superior as you like to think."
Jeremiah slammed the door behind himself.
-
The ride to the warehouse was silent. His driver knew better than attempt polite small talk, the stains from the last driver are still visible if you look hard enough at the upholstery. Jeremiah stared out the window at the passing buildings. He still has a hard time believing where he was, nearly all this life he had been underground and these vermins managed to destroy the city while he was hidden away.
He just had to make Bruce understand, he wanted him at his side. He knew he would convince him, they had something. A bond that neither could deny.
Jeremiah was honestly surprised his crew had managed to capture him. Bruce was nothing if not slippery, he was able to make it out of seemingly any situation. As much as it infuriated him, he couldn't help but admire the boy. Bruce had been lead to the warehouse under false pretenses and was to be administered a small dose of knock out gas. He should be waking up any moment, he thought angerly, if Oswald hadn't held him up he would have been there in time to see the scared confused brown eyes blink open.
The thought sends a shiver down his spine. It seemed his feelings for Bruce had only intensified the longer they remained at odds with each other. The more they pushed and pulled the more Jeremiah longed for him. He's sure Bruce feels the same, otherwise, he'd have long since given up his quest to get him help.
His dark knight, Bruce Wayne.
-
The moment he opened the doors to the warehouse sensed something was off. He could hear the idiotic laughter of his henchmen and Bruce spewing threats but something seemed wrong with the way Bruce spoke. He watched the back of Bruce's head as he approached from behind to where Bruce was tied up and listened to the ever so slightly slurred speech. The knock out gas shouldn't be affecting him still.
As his men saw him emerging from the shadows of the room they silenced and straightened up like well-beaten dogs. Jeremiah rounded to get a view of Bruce but paused not a moment later. Jeremiah felt his hands twitch at his sides. Bruce began yelling at him but he felt miles away. Jeremiah's eyes flickered across Bruce's skin taking it all in, the longer he looked the redder his vision grew and the fuzzier his surroundings became.
Someone had touched him.
Someone had hurt him.
Someone had hurt Bruce.
His Bruce.
His lip was oozing blood and had swollen up, he had a bruise blooming under his eye and gash on his forehead. They were all fresh, "Who touched you?"
Bruce stuttered to a pause halfway through a threat of what would happen when he got free, "What?"
Jeremiah stepped closer, eyes carefully checking his face. The wounds would heal but they should be cleaned. Jeremiah lifted a hand and gingerly touched the darkening bruise, "Who did this?"
Bruce screwed his eyes up and pulled his face away from the hand, "What are you talking about? Your men that's who!"
Jeremiah inhaled sharply and if the look on Bruce's face was any indicator he looked furious. He lowered his voice, "You're saying one of these men did this to you?"
Bruce's eyes quickly flicked to the man on his left side and that was all he needed. Jeremiah rounded on them, he had been so proud of them. Pity.
"Did he touch Wayne?" Jeremiah asked the taller man. He quickly looked at his partner who was shifting nervously before nodding, "Thank you for your honesty. I can honestly say I appreciate that in a person," blink and you would miss Jeremiah pulling his pistol out and planting a bullet between his eyes. Jeremiah watched the man's body crumble to the floor, he shouldn't have let someone touch his property.
The other man tried to run but Jeremiah was quicker. His hand grabbed the mans collar and kicked his legs out. He fell to the ground with a yelp and began trying to crawl away. Jeremiah grabbed his squirming ankles and pulled him to Bruce's feet. Crouching down to yank the man to his knees, "Apologize," Jeremiah hissed.
When the man said nothing he grabbed a fist full of his hair and forced his face up to look at Bruce who had stopped struggling and watched the horrifying scene unfold, "Open your eyes," Jeremiah growled into the man's ear. When he did nothing but squeeze his eyes tighter and shake Jeremiah screamed, "Open them!"
The man let out a sob and opened his eyes. Tears streamed down his face as he helplessly stared up at Bruce, "Now, apologize," the man opened his mouth but all that came out was a pathetic cry, "Now!"
"I'm sorry!" the man cried. Jeremiah released his hair and let his head fall forward.
"See, was that so hard," Jeremiah mused. The man shook his head, "and now you know not to touch my things, right?" The man nodded.
Jeremiah looked up at Bruce. His eyes were wide and fixed on Jeremiah, he let a smile play at his lips to try and reassure him. Then he sunk a knife into the man's head. Bruce shouted as blood started pooling at his feet. The room lapsed into silence as Jeremiah stood. Bruce's eyes followed his every move, it was exhilarating, "You know why I had to do this, right?" he said motioning to the bodies. Bruce's wide doe eyes stared up at him, "It's because I could never let anyone hurt you and get away with it."
Jeremiah walked behind Bruce and leaned down to undo the restraints on his wrists, "Do you know why?" he whispered watching Bruce shiver before shaking his head. Jeremiah smiled, "Because you're mine," with a light press of lips to the side of the boy's face, he cut the restraints and left the room.
