A/N: This is my first shot at fic-ing in the Batman Begins/Dark Knight category, and I'm an avid fan of Nolan's Batman trilogy. I can only hope that this story works out to rouse satisfaction in other fans.
Rated M for mature language, sexual themes, some violence and miscellaneous adult content. In reading & reviewing, don't hold down any tips/concerns. Be constructive and considerate.
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman nor any of the characters in its entirety.
I. Due Process
A ridiculous amount of relief flooded Margaret Dawes' system at the phone call she'd received not five minutes earlier. Mr. Zsasz's newly assigned lawyer arrangement was verified that morning, and Henry Gage was set to abide Gotham's latest-caught crook that day in the courtroom, while she was off the hook.
Actually, Maggie had personally chosen not to proceed on with Victor Zsasz's case, for upon meeting him the week earlier, he'd given her a look not even Satan himself could have possibly been capable of expressing. He'd sent the most frigid of chills down the 26-year-old's spine, and that was a rarity.
In the majority of Lawyer Dawes' prior cases, she'd worked with felonious women, say the rebellious kleptos and prostitutes, keeping her distance from the men for wise reasons. Her own entitlement had proven worthy not when Victor gawked her down like a hawk over its prey or cheaply flirted with her, but when he raped her ears with the most defiling proposition she'd ever be addressed...thus far.
"Such a gorgeous honey you are...what're ya doin' in a place like this anyway? In a dangerous, scary, big city like Gotham? You're only lined up for an unwanted fuck, baby. You watch the News, don't ya? You see all the rape n' murder that happens on the daily 'round here. You see that We have this hell-ridden city at our hands…" he paused to chuckle. "And cocks, if ya get my gist."
"That'll be enough, Mr. Zsasz," Maggie bit out from across the table at the GCPD's holding cell. Victor was cuffed to his seat for cautionary reasons regarding her safety, as well as any other lawyer who'd be sitting across this serial killer in particular. Ah yes, Victor Zsasz had allegedly offed a presumed eighteen men and nine woman in the last year and a half alone, most of the murdered women having been forced on at Zsasz's sickening will.
"What is it, toots? Ya don't like the truth?"
"Oh, the truth is all I'm here for, Victor," Maggie confirmed, donning a more stern mien for him than what she had usually put on for most of her clients, and for a good purpose. Maggie was already quite aware that this man was far from innocent, she could conclude as much from his report, the one she'd read before meeting him in person. Though here in Gotham at this time, the field of lawyers were swarmed with men, both young and old, the few women being older and more promising in appearance, therefore, more promising in duty. For the time being, Maggie was the youngest amongst the local attorneys, and her innocent, sweetheart looks weren't all that appealing to the crooks who wanted convincing enough lawyers. Sure, Maggie wanted to find the decency in these criminals, but when such simply ceased to exist within them, Zsasz for prime example, then money seemed to be of more importance. Not to mention Maggie had been having difficulty getting hired in the last few months as crime had been at its worst in years. The demons of Gotham required only the best counsel, and Maggie still had some hardening to gain.
Mr. Zsasz had seemed to take interest in her, perhaps in more ways than what she was prepared for or comfortable with. He had a satisfying price set for her, and she was desperate. The feeling had been eating her up as her wallet had been slimming down. Of course she didn't want anything at all to do with such worthless scum, but what did she really have to lose? The justice of those nineteen+ people he'd slaughtered? Maggie chastised herself for thinking idealistically. She'd just have to leave that to Rachel, who was making the bank Maggie could only dream for.
She could only nervously chew at her bottom lip as she flipped through this man's records. She could look at him without even knowing him or his history and infer that he was no-one to mess with. She hadn't bothered to even read through the entire packet at hand, for what real use would it bring her anyway? She returned her focus to the man down the table with a silent sigh.
"Mr. Zsasz, do you vow your innocence?" she pointlessly inquired.
"You ought to believe it," he scoffed. "Otherwise, why would I even bother with wasting what money I got left on one of you? Oh...then again, I can think of plenty o' use for you, doll. Hell, I think I'd surrender my life's savings for a night with you."
She suppressed the urge to tell him off, maybe even walk out on him with a clean-cut slap across that ugly, scarred face of his, but she decided against it, for her earning's sake.
"Let's stay on track…" she laughed edgily. "Why don't we discuss the game plan for the 22nd. Now, as I'm sure you can assume, Judge Faden is going to be challenging to convince, so you need to be ready to face the stand confident and lacking guilt."
"Actually, not a whole lot of diligence will be essential," he lazily informed as he leant back in his chair. "I got someone who's kinda notorious for gettin' naughty folk like me out of the slammer's way...though, the nut house don't sound too fantastic either, don't it? Eh, better than taking it up the ass every goddamn rinse, I'd say."
"Oh, uh, who is going to...try to get you out of imprisonment at Blackgate?" she asked him, her tone laced with incredulity.
"Some Head Doc at Arkham named Crane or whatever. He made a deal with my eh, employer. Just need a useful lawyer to fit into the picture enough to suit the judge's concerns. That's where you come in, babe. Really, all ya gotta do is sit pretty and wait an hour or so till all is said and done."
Baffled, she went on to ask, "Then why even invest four hundred an hour on me if I'll hardly be of any virtue to your case?"
Chortling huskily to himself, he leant forward and met his cold glare with her own. "I spend six to twelve months 'recovering' at the loony bin, get out, then meet up with ya in a nice hotel somewhere outside of the city where you'll be doin' some other business. By then I can likely raise the price at your favor...give ya five...ten grand per hour. That sound fair?"
How typical. She should have figured this creep had different intentions.
"Of course that will only work if the 22nd's endeavors in the courtroom work out as planned."
At that, all she could really say was, "You've got to be shitting me."
This waste of space was even more pathetically cunning than she'd presumed days earlier. With a terse groan of disappointment, she swiftly stood from the cool metal seat and snatched her briefcase from the floor. Huffing in annoyance, she heeled for the exit and buzzed for security to let her out.
"I'm afraid I will not be able to accommodate your twisted scheme, Mr. Zsasz."
"The fuck? You're already here! Everything's all set and bound to work out without a single petty tactic out of place! Your job is simple and you'll be gettin' paid to the hilt in just months to come," he negotiated frustratingly, his fists clenched in evident irritation, going purple with vehemence.
The guard was quick to approach the door, and Maggie was even quicker to exit the Police Department. Disgust rang though her as she headed for her Porsche. Her long, dark brunette hair that ran down her back in ripples swayed in the light breeze her as she scurried off, nearly tripping over her three-inch heels as she skipped hastily to her car.
Maggie Dawes had met and worked with many bad souls in this cursed city over the last four years since starting this occupation, but some of these malefactors were simply too much for her to handle, with composure and affirmation, that was. She wasn't even so sure she wanted to be a lawyer once upon a time when she was nineteen. Honestly, she only sought working with the law an obligation, just to contribute her worthiness to her highly lawful family, taking after her mother who was a judge out in Passaic County and her father who'd recently retired from his sheriff's work after paying the last thirty-six years forward to society. Her older brother, Arthur, took after dad and was known for his grandiose patrolling at the University of Gotham.
And of course there was Rachel, the second oldest and most illustrious by far, being the Assistant District Attorney and all. She certainly shined amongst both Artie and Maggie with her astounding determination and incredulous amount of dignity, and who could forget her eavesdropping habits? It would only be a matter of time before Rachel discovered Maggie's attempted shot at working with one of Gotham's most depraved sickos. She hated to ponder how the older sis would berate her on that ignorant, inconsiderate and stupid! move. It hardly mattered that she wasn't going through with the man's lewd proposal anyway; Rach would still scold her younger sibling's stupid decision, and their already strained relationship would tumble further downhill from there.
Maggie had always gotten along far better with Artie all her life. Rachel's more strict authoritarian mannerisms and pretentious knacks irritated Margaret to a point of sisterly distaste, whereas Arthur was more laid-back and okay with the tumultuous times. He was one to let the rain pour down on him without even an thinking to grab an umbrella, even if this rain were to be acidic, and he'd always let the chaos transpire, for whatever happened, whether good or bad, was inevitable no matter the actions taken for prevention, and Maggie just couldn't help but admire his accepting charisma.
She herself was never one to really speak out against what seemed wrong, for she reckoned that some things were best let be. It bothered her to see Rachel work for the top spot growing up. She saw Rachel's need to be Class President and need to excel in absolutely everything she did to be gaudy and lord-like, as if she just had to be the best there was. Sure, Maggie may have been misinterpreting her sister's actual purposes or true colors, but she knew what she saw, and whether the DA's helping hand would admit to it or not, she was prideful.
Yes, she did what seemed right for the people, but truth be told, she tried way too hard. Maggie shook her head at her sister's immense disability to give up once and a while, just when the situation was too far out of her reach or jurisdiction to be dealt with at her hands. For instance, Maggie knew in the pit of her being that Mr. Geoffrey Pimby was far from innocent on that trial over his wife's murder just four weeks earlier, but when the court so foolishly ruled his innocence, she shrugged, leaving their decision conclusive. Really, what could she have done to turn the tables? She was wise enough to recognize her limitations, and Rachel just...was not.
Not to be gotten wrong, she loved her sister and cared for her sake and well-being just as tremendously as family should, but she would definitely modify some of those irksome calibers of hers had she the power. Rachel had always out-shined both her and Artie in performance, competition and even grades. Though Rachel's SAT scores were a mere three points higher than her younger sister's results, she still earned herself extended offers from only New Jersey's best schools, not to mention that letter from Harvard that she declined for Gotham U.
Yet, Maggie could have accomplished more if she really wanted to, but her aim in life was minorly diminished from Rachel's priorities. She was more reserved in the actions she took and not one to compete for the throne, so to speak. She rather enjoyed bossing herself around and making her own choices, leaving the more presumptuous sibling to the live out the more contrary standards.
ooo
That approaching May, Artie would be moving out to Los Angeles, where he accepted an opening for security work at a newly opened antique museum, which meant that Maggie would be right to solidify her taut relationship with Rachel, or else resort to pretending that she didn't even have a sister, which, in all honesty, seemed to be the more immature and irresponsible course to take.
Rachel had never had a humongous circle of friends, for her work-ethic overrode her need to build or sustain a social life, at least that was Maggie's theory. So, who better to rant to every blue moon than her own flesh and blood sister? Who better to cling onto her and deem a friend over some snob or asshole in the courtroom or at the Firm than Margaret?
And to tell the truth, Maggie hadn't ventured far out into the gregarious realm herself, though her reasons differed from Rachel's. It wasn't necessarily a hardcore workaholic drive that was holding her back, because frankly, she did not possess one, but it was more the lack of interest in having more than six people outside of the kin brim her phone's contact list, or in other words, her dislike for memorizing a platter of birthdays and keeping open ears for whatever bitching or other miscellaneous yakking they had to finish didn't quite capture Maggie's heart's greatest aspirations.
Therefore, she had Artie, a public relations executive she met in college, Tina Goldman, and Rachel to call her acquaintances. Then again, with her brother leaving Gotham in short time to return for a visit maybe that Thanksgiving, Miss Dawes would be well-off forming a stronger bond with her mostly distanced sis.
She could start by giving her a call once she got back to her apartment.
….
She'd lived on the fourth floor of Lodell Apartments since her junior year of college. Before then, she was sharing space with Rachel in her condo, and it wasn't the least bit awkward since Rachel dated the Constitution more than men. The few, select men who did date Rachel were more bland than a piece of stale wheat toast and made love like seniors on too much Viagra — they were sloppy and obnoxiously fervent, as told by the older sister herself.
Maggie could identify with that greatly when it came to trying to date gentlemen of the law, with the exception of irresistibly attractive police officers whom she had yet to date. Most lawmen were all too boring and tightassed to elicit excitement, something both women craved. The last man Maggie had gone out with was Keith Netmile, a 28-year-old telemarketer whom she dated for nearly fourteen months, right up until he confessed his infidelity after she'd gotten back to town after her two-week vacation in New York City. As guilt-ridden as he had shown himself to be at the drunken one-night-stand he had with one of his bud's secretaries, Maggie would have nothing more of him, and hadn't since February of that year.
With the shattered heart she had, she isolated herself from people and events even more than before and she grew a taste for tequila and other drinks she had loathed in earlier times. Every day, for a while, Keith would fill up her voice mail with his regret, and at one point when the self pity flourished into something she could no longer handle, she called him up and asked not only why he'd cheated in the first place, but why he would bother telling her about it when he must have known that his dirty little secret would only put their relationship to an abrupt end. With the lousy, cheap and inessential excuses came her dramatic hang-up, resulting in the chipping of her Verizon mobile.
She met up with guys seldom after that crushing blow. As cliche as it may have sounded, she loved this man and wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, so how and why he did such an unnecessary thing to her made her blood boil and her heart vow to go asexual for a long while. Artie was a good listener, but Rachel had more thorough advice to give when it came to this sort of drawback. Maggie could say that her sister and her had probably been more close than ever before in the time she struggled with her exes cruel deed.
By late March, she had learned to take it easy. There were many fish in the sea, and all she had to do was avoid the sharks and piranhas of society and she'd meet Mr. Faithful, or so she wished.
She began dialing up Rachel's number as she dug into the contents of her purse in search for her apartment's keys. It was just past six in the evening and she was sure Rachel would be on break at this time, happily ready to hear the yammerings of another stressful day dealing with shitty-mannered former clients-to-be.
"So this one jack-ass proposed that we get together and hook up after his brief imprisonment, as if he truly had it in his head that I would bang him for what money he had to surrender...needless to say, the experience was brutal and extremely awkward, Rach. With the crime rates shooting through the roof, it's a real bitch finding even slightly acceptable people to work with these days."
"Well, I give my condolences, Mag, but right now I'm under some hotter water. I'm working on another one of those imbecilic cases where this hitman qualifies for treatment at the Arkham Asylum over what life sentence in Blackgate he clearly deserves. The Head of the asylum has already gotten two men working for the mob off the hook and being cared for and doted on in his facility. I'm going to investigate this further on the 22nd during Victor Zsasz's hearing."
Maggie just barely caught herself from stumbling over her own feet once she was inside her apartment. "U-um, Victor Zsasz, you say?" she stammered in disbelief.
"Yes, he worked for Falcone, you know, our city's leading Mob Boss. I've got a nasty feeling that this Dr. Crane will be swaying over Faden's more credulous side, as I've witnessed first-handedly on more than enough occasions in just the last couple of months."
'Guess I've really dodged a bullet there; even more so than I thought...' Maggie mentally concluded. She wouldn't be too stunned if Rachel did find out of her sister's forbidding chosen client, but to be in the same courtroom with her on the same day with the same case would have just made everything increasingly complicated between them and what already rocky sisterhood they shared.
It seemed that she had made a sagacious decision on dropping his case. Now she just had to have faith that Mr. Zsasz would find another lawyer before his due day in court, otherwise she may be appointed to him against her own will, and after those perverse remarks he'd addressed to her...no, no, she couldn't deal with him. She simply wouldn't. She would find someone, anyone else, even if their offer didn't measure up to what Victor had to give. If there was one characteristic her and her sister shared, it was self respect.
As Maggie kicked her heels off and removed most of her work clothing, she scanned over the top shelf of her refrigerator in search of her still half-full jar of chili peppers. Her thoughts lingered over this Head Doctor that both Rachel and Zsasz mentioned.
"So, um, this doctor, Crane, right? Is he sexy?" she giggled into the receptor as she strainingly attempted to open the peppers that she had closed too snugly the night before. She knew that particular question would more than likely get on her sissy's nerves, for such inquires had always tended to when directed to Miss Overly Professional Dawes. Sure enough, a sharp sigh sounded from the other end.
"Well, he's better looking than most of the guys I work with to be completely honest. Though, I'll admit he's odd looking. He's got crystalline eyes; really light blue, with maybe a hint of turquoise, even. He wears feminine-framed glasses and has really...plump lips."
"Black man plump?" Maggie incited with a chuckle.
"...Yes...I suppose you could surmise that from looking at him. He's not too tall; we're actually about the same height. I towered over him a bit with my heels. He's thin and wears dexterous sweater vests underneath his coat...wait, why am I even talking about him? He's irritating, Margaret. There's something suspicious about him. I need to figure out exactly what he's playing at...I'm almost positive he's affiliated with Falcone…"
Maggie hadn't paid much attention to the second half of Rachel's statement, for she was more concerned with this doctor's physical appearance. Perhaps subconsciously, she wanted to meet someone new, someone like him, even if he was uptight and detached. Her breakup with Keith had still be tugging at her heartstrings and she could've used some distraction, even if that distraction's dick was attached to a man of arrogance. She didn't enjoy the presence of arrogant people, not one bit, but just so long as he didn't adulterate, she just might've been able to cope…
"How old is he?"
"Margaret, I don't want to talk about him anymore right now. I've got other, much more dire matters on my plate."
She bit into the end of her cooled chili. "So, how old do you think he is?" She wasn't going to let this topic slip out of reach so easily.
"I'm not sure."
"Ballpark."
"He's young...around twenty-eight or twenty-nine, I'd say. He doesn't look old enough to run an institution for sure...but that isn't of cruciality. I need to focus on why he's so hellbent on keeping serial killers in the comfort of his asylum."
"You ought to be careful, Rach. I don't want you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. That's sure to only get you into danger, especially if you're with a godforsaken Tony Soprano."
"I'd personally compare him to Capone...and I have no choice but to look into these things with more scrutiny than what I'm technically allowed. No one else takes any damn responsibility for these issues. The authorities are too accustomed to what sin corrupts this cursed, downtrodden wreck of a community, Faden just doesn't give a shit anymore, and Carl's too much of a chicken to step it up and go proactive when our society needs it the most."
"Mm, right. Y'know, we could always skip this city; go out to California with Artie. What are we getting out of staying here anyways? Why even try with these ruins anymore?"
"I can't just forfeit, Marg-"
"You might as well," she cut in. "I see what you are, sweetpea. Your efforts do appear worthwhile outwardly, but in reality, you're just wasting your time, and you know it, sister. How could you not? You've held this position for what, six, seven years? And yet, little improvement has been issued in your career. Face it, Rach, you've done all ya can, so maybe it's time to lay a little lower from here on out. Just a suggestion."
"Oh, here we go with the pessimism again! You know, you weren't such a downer when you were living with Keith. I think the break-up has changed you in negative ways."
"Screw that son of a bitch. My 'pessimism' has absolutely nothing to do with with that unfortunate consumer of my past."
"Well, you do tend to quit and just give up altogether before you break a single sweat, Maggie," Rachel huffingly admitted.
"No, I just don't exceed my limitations. I perform my part and leave all the rest be. For the record, I'm not trying to judge your ego. I'm only looking out for you."
"I am quite able to look after myself. I appreciate your concern, but I am older and I am more culturally informed and prepared for a backlash. Of course I see that my plans don't always work out in my favor, but that doesn't denote the necessity to refrain from my goals. I refuse to let this city fall apart beyond repair."
"Overachiever."
"Okay, if you are yet again going to berate me, then I think we should just stop here for the night until you find it appropriate to open up to my prerogatives."
"I already told you I'm not judging you, Rach! I am just warning you! You're going to end up dead in a Narrows dump if you keep this up. There's no way the mob is going to condone much more of your idealistic procedures."
A scoff returned her way before a declaration of "Maybe taking a risk is essential. Next time you're out there, whether downtown, in the Narrows or even driving past the superficially safest parts of our district, why don't you really take some time to analyze how endangered we all truly are. If we let the crime rates elevate any further we will all irrevocably face an unimaginable hell."
"Then let us leave! Let this go...drop it and let it become the ghost town it was destined to be."
"You're a big girl, now, Margie, why don't you go live elsewhere on your own. I've got my life set up here in Gotham."
"Then how am I supposed to watch your back? Fine, hypothetically comes a day when I'm residing out in LA or wherever and I call you up to receive no call back...ever, 'cause if your confidence shines through this city much longer — you're gonna be some wild animal's dinner or-or a derelict's sex toy in some alleywa-"
"Alright, I've got more important things to do. Goodnight."
"You need to wake up, Rach!"
Her debate had yet again resulted in futility. This summed up how most of their conversations went nowadays. An argument of some sort usually slithered in within the first couple of minutes into their interlocutors and they ended up similarly every time. This was one of the reasons why their terms were so rough. Artie didn't exactly play it safe himself but at least he was stubborn enough to keep far enough out of harm's way.
Maggie could sense turbulence ahead with this upcoming court case involving Zsasz and this alienated nuthouse director who she was oh so terribly eager to meet for some confounding reason. She would try again to talk her incredibly demanding sister out of pestering the city's badmen, though she had to remind herself that persuasion didn't abide well with the Assistant DA, nor ever had.
If Zsasz and Rachel were correct about Crane's loyalties with Falcone, then Rach was really asking for it. Maggie spent the remainder of that night contemplating how she was going to start cleaning up what clutter had already began to desecrate her sister's life. Just how in the hell was she going to save her from meeting an early demise?
She'd gotten Artie to deal with her on previous accounts, most of them having resulted in an even more painstaking Assistant DA. Sometimes, Rachel interpreted her sibling's warnings as she would a challenge, and she'd fail to see the foolishness in her determination.
With the 22nd being just five short days away, Maggie panicked in her mental planning. Would she go through the taxing trouble of begging Artie to stay in Gotham and watch over Rachel with more security than she had ever been able to muster, or would she just sit around, awaiting the outcome?
Her thoughts drifted when Keith's number flashed up on the caller ID, and she was gratuitous for it, just this one time.
Hey, thank you bunches for checking this out. Please do leave a review, whether constructive, brief, suggestive or praising; all are welcome. I do not have a beta so I apologize for any spelling/ grammatical mistakes (if any). Future chaps will be lengthier.
Jonathan Crane shall be introduced in the following chapter :D I hope you enjoyed this first segment and more to come!
-JLM