"There has to be a mistake."

Jim sighed, looking down.

"I'm sorry, but I saw it with my own eyes… You know I want to believe anything else, but…"

Bruce's hands were shaking.

"Something must've happened in Arkham; they must be threatening her… Cynthia wouldn't…"

Jim swallowed hard as Bruce looked down at the ground; he was barely holding in tears.

"Bruce, I'm sorry, I truly am."

"You should've protected her in the first place," Bruce muttered before leaving the room.

Jim sighed as he watched him go, before turning to look at the butler.

"Alfred…"

"I think it's for the best that you leave, Detective."

"Of course, Alfred, but… I need to know Cynthia's friends; I need to question them."

"Carly Westerman was her closest friend; anything you need to know, she'll know."

"Thank you, Alfred."

As Jim left Wayne Manor, he heard something break from upstairs.

.

It's your fault Payne died.

Bruce grabbed one of the glass vases and smashed it on the ground.

You're the reason she went to Arkham.

Bruce kicked one of the wooden cabinets.

It's all your fault!

Bruce dropped to his knees, beginning to cry.

.

Jim and Harvey sat in the Westerman's living room; Carly was holding her mug of tea tightly while her mother sat to her right.

"Cynthia was always such a nice girl," Her mother said quietly.

"I understand this is painful for the both of you, but I need to know about Cynthia."

"Like what?" Carly asked.

"Did she have any other friends?" Jim asked.

"Yeah, of course, everybody liked her, but I was her closest," Carly replied.

"How about boyfriends?" Harvey asked.

"Um, yeah, she-she had a few," Carly said.

"How many?" Jim asked, Carly biting her lip for a moment before lifting her hands to indicate.

"Seven?" Jim asked, Carly nodding "Do you have names?"

.

"Simon Vang."

"Listen, I haven't spoken to Cynthia since the eighth grade," Simon said, sitting awkwardly in the interrogation room "We dated for a week and then she dumped me."

.

"Nadine Hoffman."

"It lasted two weeks, I'm not even into girls anymore," Nadine said in a small voice.

.

"Casper Moffett."

"Yeah, she was fun," He said with a leering smile "We used to plant cherry bombs together. Her boobs were just a plus."

"How long did your relationship with her last?" Jim asked, Casper scowling.

"A month and then she dropped me."

.

"Lexi Braddock."

"She used to sit in the corner of my bar; people would pay for her drinks all the time," Lexi said admiringly "She once had ten drinks at once."

"You do know she was fourteen at the time of your relationship, right?" Harvey asked.

"I mean, she never actually drank any of them," Lexi said awkwardly "Besides, we only dated for a month and a half; haven't seen her since."

.

"Gwen Vass."

"What did you say your occupation was again?" Jim asked, Gwen rolling her eyes.

"I work at the Penthouse Club."

"Uh huh, how did you meet Cynthia Wayne?"

"I don't know, she needed to use a phone and I let her use the one in the club. Then we dated for about four months."

"Let me take a guess; she broke up with you," Harvey said.

Gwen nodded.

"I thought we were doing so well and then she just…"

"If it's any consolation; you're the longest she's ever dated someone," Jim said.

"… I haven't seen her since then," Gwen said.

.

"Well, that accomplished nothing," Jim muttered.

"But, I think I'm kind of in love with her now," Harvey commented, Jim snorting.

"One more," Jim said "Brice Williamson."

A young man with dark hair sat down, biting his lip nervously.

"How did you meet Cynthia Wayne?"

"Um, I used to deal at the club on 9th; she was dating the bartender at the time. Used to send her drinks."

"When did your relationship become romantic?"

"Once she broke up with the bartender, she stopped coming, so I started dealing outside of that private academy. One day I asked her out."

"Were you selling to her?" Jim asked.

"No, she was there with her friend."

"When did your relationship end?"

"Three weeks after that."

"Have you seen her since then?"

It was quiet for a long moment.

"If I tell you this, I need you to promise I'll be protected," Brice said.

"Of course, any info that leads to the capture of Cynthia can't be held against you in a trial," Jim said.

"Not from the police," Brice said, Harvey and Jim exchanging looks.

"We'll keep you safe," Jim promised, Brice sighing.

"A few months ago, she called me and said she wanted to come over. I said yes, of course, but when she got there, she just went up to the roof."

"That's all?" Jim asked, frowning.

"She wasn't… alone."

"Who was she with?" Harvey asked.

"Him."

Harvey and Jim turned to see where Brice was pointing.

And looked at the grinning mug shot of Jerome Valeska.

.

They had a different lead now, but the information that was rattling around Jim's head wouldn't go away.

They knew each other before.

Jim knocked on the door of Cicero's house.

"GCPD."

Nothing, Jim knocking again.

"GCPD," He repeated "Mr. Cicero, it's Detective Gordon; we need to speak to you about your son… Mr. Cicero?"

Suddenly, there was a cry from inside the apartment.

"Mr. Cicero?" Jim called, pulling out his gun and kicking the door open.

There was no one in the apartment except for Mr. Cicero; who had a knife through his eye.

Jim entered; the window was wide open.

"Harvey, the window!"

While Jim looked outside, Harvey made the mistake of lifting Cicero's hands; a gas coming out from a canister under it. Harvey fell to his knees, Jim covering his face and pulling Harvey out of the apartment; also beginning to succumb to the gas and having to lean against the wall outside.

Then, whistling began.

"Detective Gordon. Old pal."

Jerome.

"That gas sure packs a wallop, huh?" Jim moved to attack Jerome, the red head easily taking his gun out of his hands and pushing him back "That's cute."

As Jim began to feel the effects of the gas more and more, Jerome spoke.

"Cynthia sends her love."

Jim pushed Jerome against the wall opposite; his hands wrapped around the teenager's throat.

"I'm sensing anger."

"You killed Sarah Essen. Now I'm gonna kill you."

Jerome raised Jim's gun to his head; laughing.

"Don't shoot him," An unknown woman with her mouth covered said, Jerome hitting Jim with a gun.

"How about a little flesh wound?"

"No, no; my dibs."

Then everything went black.

.

"I look like I belong in a Cabaret."

"I like it," Barbara said, before leaving the room.

Cynthia twirled in the pink ensemble; she hadn't put on the hat yet because it was ridiculously huge, but she had everything else on.

"Ah, my lovely assistant."

Cynthia looked over at Jerome who was grinning.

"For one night only," She replied teasingly.

"Of course. Soon, all of Gotham will see me for what I am, and you know what they'll see you as?"

"An insane assistant?" Cynthia guessed, Jerome's brow furrowing but his smile not dropping.

"My partner."

"… That is the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Jerome grinned, pulling Cynthia into a surprisingly sweet embrace.

"You and me, Cynthia; we're gonna be in the spotlight."

"… Yeah, Jerome; we are."

.

"It's regrettable."

Cynthia looked up and over at Galavan; Jerome had left to get ready for tonight.

"What is?"

"What has to happen for you to be exonerated."

"Yeah," Cynthia muttered, looking down.

"You're not going to back out on me, are you?" Galavan asked.

"Of course not," Cynthia said, looking up "I know my part."

"Good."

.

"This is a waste of time."

"We had a deal, didn't we Master Bruce? Part of which is you resuming a normal life style."

"That's not the point," Bruce said.

"Master Bruce, staying holed up in the house isn't going to help Cynthia in any way."

Bruce rolled his eyes, Alfred deciding to let it pass.

"There's going to be a magician, that'll cheer you up."

Bruce looked over.

"I hate magicians."

"Remember what I said about being normal?"

.

Bruce really wasn't a fan of magicians.

He didn't find tricks entertaining and the assistants were always women, which wasn't bad within itself, but he couldn't remember ever having seen a woman magician with a man assistant.

Bruce swallowed hard; it'd been Cynthia who'd pointed that out one night after a magic show they're family had gone to when he was six and she was nine. Afterwards, she'd made Bruce be her assistant for a magic show for her parents. He'd hated it.

Bruce looked at the assistants, two women, who're over the top acting as the magician wasn't in the box.

He missed Cynthia.

"For my first act, I'll require a volunteer. Let me see; duck, duck, duck, duck, duck. Goose."

Oh, shit.

Bruce didn't condone swearing, but he couldn't help thinking it sometimes.

One of the assistants hopped off the stage and held her hand out to him.

.

"Then, Cynthia will go and bring Bruce-."

"Um, no. That should be Barbara. He'll recognize me."

"But-."

"This isn't a Cinderella story; my own baby brother will be able to tell it's me."

.

The assistant led him up, the other one motioning for him to get into the box, although, she had her face to the ground in a strange bow.

The trick went flawlessly; afterwards the same assistant led him back to Alfred.

"For my next illusion, I'd like to call to the stage, esteemed deputy mayor; Harrison Gain."

He was led on stage while the other assistant revealed the knives.

But, as she did, she jostled the other assistant; her mask falling off.

The assistant soon put it back on, but not before sending a wink in Lee's direction.

The magician lifted one of the knives.

"By the way, nobody here is getting out alive."

He threw the knife right in Gain's chest.

"Ta Da!"

.

Jim was outside the fundraiser when his phone rang.

"Lee, thank god, I've been-."

"Sorry, Jimbo; it's little ole' me."

"Jerome."

"Are you outside? Huh! You are, aren't you? Oh, goody."

"I swear to god, if you've hurt her."

"Breathe, James; I haven't touched a hair on your girlfriend's pretty head. See for yourself. This is live television after all!"

Jim realized he was hearing this from two different places. Jim followed the voice to where one of the news stations was set up. On their screens, Jim could see Leslie was tied to a spinning wheel; Barbara, Jerome, and Cynthia around her.

"You son of a bitch."

"True, but not the point. Let's talk about what I want. Excuse me," Jerome stepped over a body "47 million dollars, a helicopter, obviously, the dry cleaning I left at Mr. Chang's, be careful, the man is a crook. And, I don't know, Cynthia?"

"A pony?" Cynthia said, fluttering her eyelashes.

"A pony! You got ten minutes before I start killing people and remember this is being broadcasted to every home in Gotham, so, you know, don't let people die. Bye!" Jerome continued to laugh into the phone until Jim hung up.

.

"I think that went well."

"Enough! You need to pack up your pathetic little side show and leave."

.

"This plan would work much better if Theo could actually act."

.

"Is that right?" Jerome grinned, partially acting, partially because he outshone Galavan by a mile.

"It may be presumptuous to speak for all the citizens of Gotham. But, we are sick of you! You're a small, vicious man with a pathetic need for attention."

Jerome bowed and Cynthia giggled.

"Enough, for god's sake, enough."

"I'm curious where your leverage is here, Mister….?"

"Theo Galavan."

To the camera. Seriously?

"Well, Theo Galavan; if you don't sit down, I'm going to shoot you in the face," Jerome said pleasantly.

"I know there's some human decency left in you."

Jerome poked his thumb at himself; confused but grinning.

"If you need to take a hostage, take me, but let these people go home to their families. To their children!"

One hit with a hammer and Galavan was down.

Cynthia looked at Jerome with eyes that clearly meant she hoped she'd pleased him.

"Atta girl," Jerome said, stepping over Galavan and pressing a hard kiss to Cynthia's cheek before whispering through his toothy smile "Are you okay? You're acting weird."

"Of course, Jerome," Cynthia said.

"Good," Jerome said, hoisting Cynthia up and shoving the knives to the side to sit her on the table.

"Now, can I have a volunteer to entertain the lady?"

.

"Hold very still… Oh, I can't look! Someone tell me how it turns out!"

Jerome pulled the trigger; a water gun.

The man with the apple on his head wasn't killed.

Barbara and Cynthia both laughed; Lee noticing how Cynthia's seem slightly relieved.

"Damn," Jerome said, grabbing the other gun "Turn around."

Jerome took aim and easily shot the apple off; Cynthia and Barbara applauding.

"Well, clap!" Jerome said to the other hostages, all whom did as he said.

Jerome pushed the man off the stage before almost skipping to lean against the table Cynthia was sat on.

"So, Doll; I'd say tonight's going swimmingly. Is my Babydoll enjoying herself?"

"Of course, Jerome."

"Really? Because those are the only words you've said all night. I'm going to find out what's wrong, Babygirl, and-." Jerome cut off, seeing that the Wayne's butler had awoken and was now staring at them "Kiss me."

Without questioning it, Cynthia cupped Jerome's cheeks and kissed him, the red head smiling as she did.

When they broke away, Jerome grinned, but before he could say anything, whether it was a compliment to Cynthia or a taunt to Alfred, he heard a thump and a sound of pain.

Jerome quickly moved and before Barbara could slam a knife into Lee, he caught her arm.

"Has it been ten minutes?" He asked, taking the knife and walking away "Need me to buy you a watch?"

Barbara punched Lee in the face and Jerome rolled his eyes, no one but Lee noticing that Cynthia winced and looked sick to her stomach.

"Well, I think it's time for this night's first official victim!" Jerome announced "You all know and love poor rich boy, parents murdered in an alley, and my favorite assistant's baby brother. Where is Bruce Wayne?"

Any semblance of happiness or excitement slipped off of Cynthia's face.

"Do you know I'm an orphan too, Bruce? I killed my parents, though." Jerome moved away from the mic "Where are you hiding? Bruce! Where are ya, Buddy?"

"Kill his butler," Barbara said.

One of the armed men pushed Alfred up to the stage.

"Alright, last chance, Bruce, or else it's going to get very butler brainy out here."

Alfred sent Cynthia an imploring look, only to receive one in return.

"Brucie!"

"Ah, I'm bored, shoot the butler."

"Stop!"

Cynthia was frozen with wide, horrified eyes.

Jerome pulled Bruce up on stage, not noticing the exchange between the boy and his butler.

"Let's get this started, huh?" Jerome said, a knife to Bruce's neck "Check behind the curtain."

When the armed thug went to check, though; he was shot by Jim.

The other thugs were taken out by Alfred before both men aimed at Jerome, who had a knife to Bruce's neck and was laughing.

"I don't have a clean shot."

"Stay calm, Bruce."

"Seems we've got ourselves a pickle," Jerome said, before whispering in Bruce's ear "What do you say, Brucie Boy, want to boost our ratings?"

Right before Jerome could stab Bruce, he was interrupted.

"I said enough."

Jerome sighed and turned towards Galavan.

And then there was a knife in Jerome's neck.

Jerome looked at the person who'd stabbed him with wide eyes as he began to fall to the floor.

"Cynthia?"

"I'm sorry."

"I thought we were…"

Cynthia let go of the knife as Jerome died, a grin plastered on his face;

It was pretty funny, after all.