It was warmer than it had been in weeks. Temperatures in Gotham soared into the high fifties. Causing the leftover grey slush of winter to melt away. Fiona reveled in the sudden warmth, even opting to leave her jacket back at the burrow. She swung her empty case back and forth as she walked back to Crown Point.

In the morning, her and Calvin had shared a breakfast of leftover Thai. It was nice to be able to eat in the morning. Food was fuel, and for once she felt as though she had enough energy to get through the day. She felt a lot happier than she usually did in the morning, for one thing.

There had been no nightmares. The heavy food had put her into an equally heavy stupor, and she hadn't woken up once the whole night. If she had had a nightmare, she didn't remember. In that case, Fiona was thankful. She didn't need to spend the rest of the day with the thought of blood hanging over her head.

Though it was only her second day on the job for Gambol's route, she liked him much better than the Chechen's men. On her first delivery she'd gotten another paper bag of dabo kolo, which she carried, uneaten, in her left hand. She figured Calvin would like to try it, she'd raved about how good it was last night as they ate their Thai.

As per usual, she had finished her delivery early. Calvin was probably still hanging around Gotham National, where he hung around after the morning rush of commuters. Every now and then he could get a good mark in front of the Bank, but it was tricky, people were usually more alert.

She wasn't supposed to be back at Sam's until around three. Fiona checked her watch, she had about twenty minutes to spare if she walked fast. Gotham National wasn't too far out of her way, she could afford to swing by and say hello.

Turning east on fifty-second street, she passed the corner of Harlow Park where she ordinarily would have gone north. Walking quickly along, she reached the Bank in just under ten minutes. Fiona stopped on the sidewalk across the street from Gotham National. There were a few stragglers here and there, business men finishing up a late lunch break. A few people on whatever business it was they were on. Standing on tiptoe, she searched for Calvin.

Five minutes later, and no trace of his wild black hair, she groaned. There wasn't any need to wait for him like this, she had only swung by to say hello. That she could do when they were both done with their work for the day. Although she didn't know how well the Ethiopian snack would taste after being carried around all afternoon, maybe a little stale, but still good. She could give it to him then…

There was a sudden echoing bang from somewhere nearby and Fiona stiffened.

"The fuck was that? Was that gunshots?" She muttered incredulously, looking around for the source of the noise. Yes, it was definitely gunshots. There was a sudden chorus of screams and she looked to GNB across the street. She could just barely make out a couple of clowns through the window, it looked like people had already gotten down on the floor.

"Oh, shit."

Gotham National was being robbed. Soon this place would be crawling with police… shit, she had to find Calvin and warn him. She searched with purpose as she surveyed the area, but Calvin was still nowhere to be seen. Usually he was right here, wandering up and down the avenue making marks. But if he wasn't along the way here, where could he be? There were more shots and Fiona glanced fearfully back at the bank.

'Maybe he isn't even here…' She realized, her hands beginning to sweat. She quickly wiped her hands on her jeans and began to walk north, leaving the intersection behind her. Fiona kept her eyes trained on the bank as she went along the sidewalk opposite.

More gunshots.

She walked faster.

There was a flurry of movement behind the windows but it was hard to tell exactly what was going on. Some guys in clown masks and guns. Gotham had a way of attracting the strange, that was for sure. And when things got strange, Fiona got the hell out. If Calvin had been around, he would have heard the shots and beat feet.

'Fuck it.' She declared mentally, heading back towards Crown Point, 'I'll see him at home. I'm already in the middle of doing something illegal now, it would be a bad idea to get caught up in something else too.'

Fiona was halfway down the next block when a bus crashed into the wall behind her.

"Nope, nope, nope." She muttered, breaking into a jog, her long braid trailing behind her.

It was all over the news at Sam's. The theme for Gotham Central News blared and quickly cut to a breaking news segment about the bank robbery, where SWAT teams were currently diffusing live grenades. Fiona set her snack on the table and crossed the room to get a better view of the television.

"Crazy, huh?" Nathan asked, nudging her in the side. "This dude who dresses up like a clown and does shit like this? It's crazy."

"Maroni's gonna be pissed." Sam said quietly, "That was one of our banks."

He didn't need to elaborate. The Mob had a couple of banks where they kept their dirty money, there were extra precautions and security measures, mostly for the Batman, should he try anything funny. But it seemed now they had been preparing for the wrong person. But it was suicide, anyone sane wouldn't ever think to hit the mob like this. Obviously, this joker guy, whoever he was, wasn't.

Riley was there as well, for once he had finished before her. He watched the coverage with interest, even sitting on the back of the couch to watch. Nathan was checking Riley's case, making sure nothing would jostle as it was carried, looking up every few seconds to watch the GCN footage. Hostages were exiting one by one as the grenade's were diffused. They played a clip of a police officer carrying out a clown mask in a ziploc evidence bag.

Fiona recognized it immediately, it had been one of the masks she'd seen through the window of the bank.

The sound of a phone ringing snapped her out of it. She looked around only to realize that Riley had left without her noticing and now it was her case being packed. Sam answered his cell phone and was speaking in low, hushed tones with the other line. Something was going on, something bad. It was something about the bank, that much was apparent. But the phone call was too brief to really zero in on anything else.

Nathan handed her back her case, and Fiona walked out the door, her mind in a haze. It was all pretty clever really, from what she had seen and heard. Crashing a school bus into the side of the building for a quick getaway, at which point the cops were already outside. Now the clown didn't even have to exit the building to get to his getaway car. It was already waiting for him, right as school got out. This Joker must be some kind of genius. Planning things out so thoroughly; you'd have to be some kind of criminal mastermind to be able to foresee everything that could go wrong.

Fiona wondered about it in depth as she went along. Maybe Calvin knew more about it, he seemed to know everything about everyone. She'd ask him after work if he'd heard anything interesting.

She was so deep in thought, that she didn't notice the car slow down next to her.

"Fiona!? Fiona Flemming?"

She turned her head to the sound of a woman's voice, only to be met with the stunned gaze of Officer Callahan as she leaned out the drivers window of a police cruiser. Fiona froze in shock. The car jerked to a halt. As soon as the door clicked open, the spell was broken, and she was off with a start.

"Oh shit. Shit, fuck, shit." Fiona panted, but she could hear heavy footsteps gaining on her. Suddenly there was a hand on her arm, pulling her back, then deftly curved around to grab hold of her middle. It was Officer Harvey.

Fighting tooth and nail, biting and clawing, Fiona desperately tried to get away. The odds were on Officer Harvey's side, however. He weighed maybe twice as much as her, and her ninety pound frame was no match for his strength. In the confusion, her case popped open.

Two hand guns and five boxes spilled out onto the asphalt. One of the boxes had the misfortune to rip, and bullets scattered across the sidewalk like heavy rain.

"What the hell…" He grunted, holding Fiona up in the air by her middle, as she continued to kick and swear. Officer Callahan, who had pulled over and parked, worked quickly to gather up the illegal goods as Officer Harvey attempted to shove Fiona into the back of the cruiser. She was still struggling, trying anything to slip out of his grasp.

"Please, please, please!" She begged, breathless from the fight, tears now flowing freely down her face. But when she felt a cool metal cuff click round one wrist, then the other, she knew she had lost.

In the back of the cruiser, Fiona wiped her face miserably on her shoulder and willed herself to stop crying. It couldn't have turned out any worse. They hadn't expected to see her, but had obviously been keeping an eye out for her. Combined with the fact that social services was looking for her, as well as the police, and the fact that she had been in the middle of a gun run when they'd caught her… things weren't looking good.

Callahan and Harvey were radioing in, and from what she could tell of their conversation, were taking her down the MCU on account of the weapons. If she hadn't been a job, she might have been taken down to main street station or social services. But the guns in her violin case had complicated things for a bit.

She felt a buzzing sort of numbness. Adrenaline was still pumping through her veins, and her hands were shaking and sweaty. Her braid had come loose, and her vivid red hair hung about her shoulders in a long, wavy curtain.

Officer Callahan tried asking her questions on the way there, but Fiona didn't answer. Instead, she looked out the window as they drove along. She could bring her legs up and switch the cuffs to in front of her instead of behind, but it would make things worse. The back doors were impossible to open from the inside, and a metal grate separated her from the two police. If only she had a hair pin, if only they left her alone for just a second… she could get out. She had to. Oh god, Maroni was going to kill her. She'd end up dead in the river like her mother.

The trip to MCU was shorter than she expected, or maybe she was just in shock. Her heart was still pounding painfully in her throat. She was never late on a delivery. Gambol's guys would wonder where she was, phone up Sam, who would eventually have to phone Maroni. With that bank being robbed, all that money stolen, Maroni would already be in a foul mood. She shuddered at the thought of what her repercussions might be if she ever got away from the police.

The car door opened.

"If I take these off, are you going to run?" Harvey asked, giving her a wary glance.

Hell yes, she'd run and run and they'd never, ever fucking catch her again. But she shook her head and turned so that her back was to him, holding her hands out behind her. He unlocked the handcuffs and when she got out of the car, he immediately took hold of her arm, firmly steering her up the stone steps and into Major Crimes.

They took her up to the second floor where she was handed off to scowling, fat man named Wurtz. She didn't know where they took the guns too. Evidence, maybe.

Fiona sat, still and impassive, in a small room with a table and chairs and a big window looking out over the street. At first she thought it might have been an interrogation room, but it was too nice for that. A conference or meeting room or something. A woman came in to talk to her, bringing her a little paper cup with water, which she refused to touch. Ignoring the woman, she gazed resolutely out the window instead.

When the woman realized she wasn't going to be talking anytime soon, she left Fiona alone, though she heard the audible click of the door locking from the outside. There were windows looking out into the hallway, and she watched as the woman and Wurtz talked through the open blinds, straining to hear their muffled conversation and wishing desperately that she could lip read.

They left her alone for a long while, how long, she wasn't sure. The clock in the room seemed to be permanently stuck on one o'clock, which it most certainly was not. The sky grew dark outside as she sat and waited. Fiona realized with delight that they had not bothered to search her. She took an inventory of her pockets, out of boredom, and in case she might make an escape. Wurtz was at his desk, and the woman had gone. Feeling safe that no one would see, she counted her items, trying to see if anything would be useful.

There was her pack of cigarettes, a green lighter, a pack of Star Wars playing cards that belonged to Calvin, her pocket knife and two extra hair bands. There was a twenty dollar bill stuffed into her sock too, which wouldn't come in handy immediately, but might later on. Fiona braided her hair back again, letting the long plait drape over the back of the chair. Tired, and feeling a little imperious, she put her feet up on the table and closed her eyes.

Fifteen minutes later, the doorknob clicked and she looked up from her nap to see a man with thick glasses and a grey mustache enter the room. He strode over and reached across the table to smack her sneakers lightly, and, obediently, she took her feet down. He took the chair opposite, and ran his fingers tiredly through his hair.

Fiona tried to keep her face as blank as possible.

"Hello, Fiona. I'm Lieutenant Gordon." He didn'tbother with formalities. If he hadn't been a cop, Fiona might have even liked him. There was something frank and winning about his expression. He paused before continuing.

"So, you're running guns for Maroni?" He asked, but it sounded like more of a statement than a question. "Awfully young to be doing that kind of work, aren't you?" He paused again and rested his arms on the table, "Listen, Fiona, I think you're a good kid that's made a mistake. I know it's difficult to make ends meet, especially for how young you are, and especially when you're living on the street."

Fiona nodded hesitantly and he seemed pleased to get a response, however small. He didn't talk down to her, or treat her like a delinquent like the woman from earlir had. Someone like him probably had children of his own.

"It's getting late," he said, "and you're probably tired, not to mention hungry, am I right?"

Fiona nodded again.

"You like coffee?" He rose from his chair to stand.

"Yeah."