Author's note: Thank you for all your reviews! This chapter took some thinking around and I'm not sure how well the time-line's going to work out. I think, given the content of the upcoming chapters that it will be a necessary evil. Cookies for everyone of course, and apple cider. Why? Because I love apple cider. (my apologies to anyone who may be allergic to apples, please just have a cookie. In response to a few... responses:
Minerva's Cat: I'm glad that you like! Gordon is a character who's grown on me over the years and it's fun doing things with him.
SurrealxChaos: Thanks for the compliment! I've been working on my style and I think it's finally drawing together.
u-ne-korn: I apologize for misspellings. I just never get them all, but spellcheck makes the world go round. Grammar can get weird with me, usually when I'm trying to get a feeling through. I'll keep your points in mind, (but the grammar might stay kinda strange.)
To everyone else: Thank you for your encouragement and excitement! I'm having fun, I hope you're having fun, and that's all that matters.
Please comment, I want to know what you think! ((And besides, I need suggestions for quotes at the top of the chapters. If they relate to the chapter, I'll use them.)) Read and review and goodnight!
"Gotham needs a hero with a face." Batman, The Dark Knight
Chapter One
Commissioner Gordon, the 17th of August
"Stevson I need that report on the arson attempts near the Narrows! Barbrack keep an eye on the Elson case, that girls been missing two days already and we need to find her soon if we want to accomplish anything! And Mcoyle, for God's sake hurry with the filing, we've got another call that just came in and you're going to need the desk space!" This wasn't the busiest the Police station had ever been, but it wasn't a slow day by any stretch of the imagination either. Commissioner Gordon had been facing the brunt of it; MychellElson's parents had been calling every hour on the hour and demanding to speak with him. Damned if he wasn't doing his best, but there were so few leads at the moment that the case was almost dead in the water.
The Arson attempts, attempts because only 3 of twenty had been successful, were also hogging a position of importance. A low street gang was suspected but there wasn't enough proof yet to move in. Things had just been piling up over the past few days… and that worried him. When things piled up in meant that the streets were getting lax, falling back on old habits. That meant that the dark wings of the law were passing over them without touching. Where was Batman?
There'd been no contact with him since the containment of the viral epidemic in the Narrows. It hadn't seemed like something worth concern at first, but there was an unease gnawing at the back of his mind, a certainty that he would have heard from him by now, or seen him, or received a response to the message that night…
But there had been nothing, and the paperwork just kept piling up. (Where are you Batman…? What are you doing out there? There shouldn't be anything big on the streets, these things can't keep happening one after the other! There's an entire world for things to go wrong in for God's sake… it can't all happen here. If it was something as big as the outbreak you would have contacted me… wouldn't you?) Gordon leaned against a desk, took a few calming breaths. (Oh no…)
The phone was ringing again, he knew it was for him.
"Commissioner Gordon," officer Stevsonheld his hand over the mouth piece, "phone for you. It's the Elson's again. You want me to say you're out on a case?"
Gordon considered it, nodded. "There's nothing more I can tell them. Re-assure them we're working on it round the clock. Tell them that calling only slows things down over here as well, they might believe it coming from you. We'll call them the moment we know something."
"Right sir." Stevson took his hand of and put the phone to his ear. "I'm sorry Mrs. Elsonbut the commissioners out working right now. I can give him a message when he gets back, but I have to tell you…"
The conversation faded into background noise as Gordon made his way out onto the street. He needed to stretch his legs, get a moment to think and be able to hear it. Cars whizzed by the building, cabs honked and pedestrians shuffled across an intersection. This building was new to him; the last headquarters were destroyed by the Joker, forcing them to move into new, (and smaller,) accommodations. They were purchasing the rights to expand into the building behind them but until that was approved things would remain cramped and crazy. He sighed, leaned against the white bricks. There was a lot of adapting they were all shouldering, Gotham was in a state of unrest, and faith in the police was lower than he had ever known it to be. Everything was being built again from the ground up. In a world with Harvey Dent they could have bounced back faster. In a world with Harvey…
The night in the wreckage haunted him in his sleep. The fire, gods it had been so hot… and the desperate search for Rachel that he knew would end in failure the moment the flames died down. Then Harvey madness, and his family… how close he had come to losing them, how close he had been to loosing the most important confrontation of his life…
He could feel the strains on his mind from the experience when he tried to work in that tiny office. He was a resilient man, you had to be to work law enforcement in Gotham city, but that night and the days prior had been a test he had only barely passed.
Harvey, who had more hope for the city than any of them had been utterly destroyed. Batman, the hero Gotham needed so desperately; the one who had made Dent's rise in position possible was now marked as a murderer. Only he himself had gained, only he had emerged blissfully unscathed and wiser for the experience. So many times he could have died, and several times since he'd wondered why he didn't ask himself if it might have been better if he had. Well, what If he had died instead of Rachel and Harvey where would Gotham be now?
Those morbid thoughts passed him by, he refused to humor them. Harvey was gone, Rachel was gone, his predecessor was gone. He would step up in their absence as best he could, try to re-assure Gotham that the dawn Harvey had promised them was still coming, only a few hours further away than they had believed. Not an optimist but not a pessimist, he was a hopeful realist. Maybe he'd grown too old for the other two options while working this job. Of course it could havenothing to do with the job at all, Mcoyle was the biggest pessimist he'd ever met. Almost. (…Fine, Mcoyle holds the title alongside Kenrith. It's no wonder they run their beats together. A regular depressing duo.)
A fresh wave of city smells passed his nostrils, drawing his attention back to the street. Someone was selling hot dogs on a corner nearby, car exhaust wafted, the air still smelled moist from all the rain they'd been having. The brightly colored blur of life passing by did wonders for his tired spirits; people were amazing. The people of Gotham, upper class, middle, lower, they moved in and out of the scene for their 15 seconds of impersonal fame in his life.
Oh it was nice to have the virus quarantine over. The streets had been eerily empty while it stood imposed, you could walk for blocks at rush-hour and never see a soul. Gotham had practically become a new age ghost town overnight. Not a change he'd liked.
Thinking of the quarantine drew his mind back unwillingly upon itself; Batman's absence worried him again. He tried to push it away, sighed as the nagging unease resurfaced. (Batman,) he told himself, (will show up when he's ready to, there's never been any sense in waiting for him. Besides, not seeing him is a good thing, has been before. Withany luck he's busy working the same cases I am. …Maybe I should give the Elson family his number…) That pulled a smile and a chuckle out. (He'd probably let her talk then disconnect her. Then she'd call me again and complain about him as well…) Gordon's smile faded. (There's nothing to say to her we haven't already said. I understand her position, anyone would sympathize, I'd be frantic myself, but her constant calls don't make the kidnapper clumsier. I have to be more worried about the child then about her next call.)
She'd called so often and given so much information that he knew more about her daughter then some of his own relatives. He knew her shoe size, her hair length, that she hated to brush it and only allowed her mother to do it with a pink comb. He knew she'd learned to swim at age 4, that her next birthday was in two months, twenty seven days and… 5 hours now. She could sing and dance, and liked puppies, and rode a bike with green ribbons her father had tied to her handlebars. She loved vanilla, hated carrots and wanted to be a scuba diver/spacewoman/adventurer when she grew up.
If she grew up.
He knew that the parents had learned she was missing when the neighbors told them that they'd run over the bike as they backed into their driveway beside the alley, that her favorite bear was still strapped into the wicker basket with its little helmet… she'd never leave it behind, they said.
The images sent a shiver down his spine. He'd seen a lot of things in his years on the police force but he still hated, more than anything else, when a situation involved kids.
"Commissioner Gordon?"
Gordon turned to the voice, recognizing it before he saw the face. "Ramirez? I haven't seen you around since—"
"Since the outbreak?" Former Detective Ramirez closed the last bit of distance between herself and the station. "Everyone was busy Commissioner, I take it you and your family were unaffected?"
"Gordon nodded, "We were very fortunate. You're looking well also, how has life been?"
The night after the Joker was transferred to Arkham Detective Ramirez had turned in her resignation; her swollen cheek had almost concealed the turmoil in her left eye as she cried silently and accepted their goodbyes. It had been a somewhat emotional farewell for some of the officers and she became the first of several to quit the department that week. It was a high stress time, he didn't blame her or hold her leaving against her or the other men who signed out.
…But he remained curious as to who had dealt her the injury he'd noted when she left.
Ramirez's blank expression twisted for a moment into the strain of suppressed emotions, her voice however was not drawn, but quiet. "My Grandmother passed away. She…"
Gordon sighed, "Oh… I see… I'm sorry to hear that Ramirez, she'd been in and out a lot before this and, well I'm sure it was hard on you." He shook his head, "Was it peaceful?"
Her eyes pinched at the ducts, trapping the tears. "Yes commissioner, she slept through it. I couldn't have asked for more. Thank you for asking."
Gordon held his pity so he wouldn't pressure her with it, she'd been through enough. He looked back to the station briefly. "Listen, I've got to get back inside, we've got our hands full this week. If you want to drop in…"
She shook her head. "No… I was just passing by and saw you standing there. Thought I'd say, hello."
"I appreciate that."
"…"
The Station door banged open, officer Barbrack ran out, looked about frantically for a moment before he spotted them. "Commissioner we've got a lead! Someone spotted a child's shoe down in a gutter near the narrows, it matches the size and description of the victims!"
Gordon took the stairs two at a time, Ramirez forgotten. "Who called this in?!"
"Jhonson was doing a sweep of the area and it caught his attention. He thinks it happened recently, the gutters damp but the shoes almost dry."
"Alright, let's move in on this! Get two cars ready to go down, we'll see if there's a trail from there! Tell Jhonsongood work, and tell him to stay at the scene. I'll be going down with the cars."
"Understood Commissioner."
The bustle became excited, two squad cars pulled around the front, three officers headed down to them. Gordon followed, headed for the second car. His eyes were bright, his face determined. From the sidelined Ramirez watched with longing. This life was behind her now, she couldn't return after… no, not after…
The cars pulled away from the curb and shot off to the Narrows.
"Good luck, Commissioner Gordon. We need it now." She continued on down the street and listened to the wailing sirens fade into the distance.
Arkham Asylum
Far from the warmth and life of upper Gotham slumbers another world, the world of the lost, the confused, the blind and those who see all too well. Hidden behind iron fences and watched by men in guard booths looms a testament to the mad.
Here, deep inside the sealed building lights flickered, men armed with sedatives walked the hallways alongside nurses who regularly put pepper spray inside of hidden pockets in their uniforms. Somewhere someone moans, somewhere else someone whimpers in their sleep. A wide community room holds a stimulating game of Bingo and a deep debate about god.
He is here.
Oh yes… he is here.
He is in the bricks and in the light bulbs making them flicker, in the swaying hips of a nurse and plastered underneath a table. He was in a magical rainbow that no one could see, and he is poking a sad girl curled up in the corner who just wants to be left alone with her friends the leapfrogs. Some of the mad talked about him often. Some claimed they knew him. Some claimed they were him. Others didn't want to think about that anymore… no time for debate when a dozen baby mice are crawling through your veins and asking you to dance with them.
One individual stood up on the bingo table and started to explain to the masses that he wasn't one of them. He proclaimed himself a golden olive branch enchanted by Hermes, the geek god of sports gear, to speak the wonders of the ancient world; sent to instruct them in scotch tape, marbles, and the maintenance of tropical fish tanks.
A guard coaxed him down with the promise of paper and crayons with which to write his mission down. When he began to devour the crayons they took them away.
Farther away and deeper in, always deeper in from that well lit playground the security gets tighter and the hallways seem longer, darker. Room numbers and name-tags sit below small rectangular windows of airplane thick plexiglassre-enforced with bars. There are no chances taken down this hallway.
Here there be monsters.
Behind one of these doors a figure sleeps, limbs limp and form lank in a careless press against the wall. Rough scars trace gently along the side of seamless padding as he breathes, in, out, repeat. Eyes dart under closed eyelids, possibly dreaming, probably violent.
Somewhere down the hallway someone curses, the sound makes its way under the seam of the door. Rule number one; full proof security is never that. Full security is impossible. People fail, often. A black eye opens wearily on a white and sterile wilderness.
A soft sound eases through the padded room. A chuckle.
