Disclaimer: I do not own Zsasz. Though Danielle might. Sometimes. With a baseball bat.
A/N: Thank you guys for all your support! Thank you pshycogurl335 and MorbidWerewolf for your reviews. MorbidWerewolf, I updated as fast as I could for you. :) Pshycogurl, thank you, and that's one of the major themes I wanted to explore: what it's like to overcome being a victim. You reminded me to think extra hard about Zsasz's reaction to this. ETA: I just realized - you were one of the Zsasz writers who inspired me to write a story! :D Thank you, and props!
skycord1990, snm1991, nachobeats823, and everyone else, thank you for favoriting and/or following. Here is the next chapter!
Salve, Salvage, & Salvation
- - - - - Chapter Ten: "Heart-to-Heart" - - - - -
Cold dark blue eyes opened slowly. Wooden stairs bit into his prone body. He knew where he was. He was alone. The dim light from a lamp filtered through an open door and made spots on the wall above his head. It was night outside. He knew. He could smell the cold air.
A hand tightened around a knife-
-/-/-/-/-
Like a broken bird, she huddled in the dirty pavement, grasping her arm to her chest. The adrenaline had worn off and pain seeped into her system. That bastard. She envisioned again the way she had swung at him, the moment of triumph and yet anxiety she felt when she saw him fall backwards down the stairs. He had to be alive! He shouldn't be, he should bedead on those stairs, but it would be stupid to assume that the fall had killed him. She hadn't exactly examined him closely when she fled… Or- her chaotic thoughts swirled. Or was she being pessimistic? Should she hope for the best and believe that she somehow defeated him?
No! Letting down her guard would get her killed! It almost already had once today.
She knew she looked like a mess, hair disheveled, blood on her shirt and sleeve. A long cut on her face. At least that cut was shallow. The one on her chest was only slightly deeper. The one in her arm, on the other hand (she groaned at the unintended pun)… She could feel it stiffening with the pain.
How had it all gone so wrong? A few short hours ago, she was relaxing on the pier, enjoying the harbor seals. Feeling so thankful and so happy with every breath of air she sucked into her lungs. She was going to her hideout, feeling so safe and confident. And then he showed up and ruined it all again. And now here she was, crouched and bleeding in an alleyway, hoping she didn't die-
Her head snapped up. Had she heard a noise? She listened carefully for footsteps.
No one was there. It was her paranoia. But she couldn't stay here in this alleyway. She was sure she was somewhere in Park Row. It was all blurring together. His attack. Her escape. Her mind could only focus on the blood. She was covered with blood.
Where was the nearest hospital?
Disappointment and outrage hit her. She couldn't go to the hospital with these wounds! They were very obviously knife wounds. And there were too many of them to play off as an accident. If she went there, they would bring the police in to make a report, whether she had a say in it or not. The police would know she was one of Zsasz's victims and could probably figure it out. At least one was bound to have suspicions. Zsasz was crazy, and yet somehow Matthew was still alive. Did she want to push her luck?
Luck. As if that's what it was. It wasn't luck. This was his sick game.
She felt deep shame suddenly. She couldn't ask for help. What was wrong with her? She should be able to just go to the police. Why was she playing his game?
She knew, though. It was because the police hadn't even been able to protect her. Since he had gotten out, he had attacked her twice and called her several times. Why was no one stopping him, tapping her phone or whatever and tracing him? They couldn't protect Dr. Cassidy. They couldn't protect the couple in the park, or the hoodlum by the pier. They couldn't protect her. The police were useless.
Maybe she could go to a store and buy some basic First Aid supplies. But she didn't have any money with her. Damn it, she couldn't even go back to her hideout! She had nowhere to go!
She stood in the cold night air in the alleyway, wondering what to do. Either way, she wanted to get out of this alley. It smelled bad…like something had died here.
-0-
She had caught him off-balance and managed to knock him unconscious.
Swipe! A tally mark appeared in the soft wood of the zombie's work table. The bottles that formerly sat atop it were smashed and shattered all over the floor. It didn't bother his thick boots. The crunch of the glass was almost satisfying.
She actually dared to fight back…and won. He had…lost.
Swipe! Another tally mark alongside the first one. A crash as he threw an old paint can across the room.
He had been at her mercy and vulnerable! At the mercy of a zombie!
Swipe! Another tally mark, slightly deeper than the first two.
And now, she was gone again. And he couldn't find her. Crash! Her broomstick flew through the already-broken window.
Swipe! A fourth tally. Crash! Her rake followed her broomstick.
Was he ever going to be able to make her mark?!
A sharp noise as Zsasz's blade pierced the wood so hard that it cracked. In his rage he withdrew the knife from the wood and stabbed the table again and again, harder each blow.
His teeth were clenched and he could hear his jaws popping in his ears. Was he really going to let her get away with this?! With making him look so foolish? His head whipped around to regard the mountain she painted. Her blood should be splattered across her own painting! He kicked over her table. She was not stronger than him! The zombie had gotten lucky. He had been standing in the wrong place. Yes, that must be it. He refused to admit to himself that she had most capably defended herself for a second time.
Where could she possibly have learned to use weapons? There were no books in her hideout. Was it instinctive, as it was for him? Or had someone, possibly the Batman, taught her? Zsasz shook his head at the ridiculousness of the thought. Batman wouldn't teach just anyone his moves. His blade moved, slashing open her practice dummy and spilling out sand. If she knew Batman's moves, she would likely be wearing a costume as well. So then…was it instinctive? Or had he really underestimated her all along?
He knew that he had not. Otherwise, she would have found much better ways of self-defense than jumping out of her window the second time he saw her, when she let him into her apartment. He could read her fear like an open book back then. Now he still could but there was somehow…less of it.
What possessed her to fight so hard to live? Was her meaningless life that important to her? She did not have some mighty crusade like Batman, nor a higher calling like himself. So then…what did she have? This wretched hideout? Something else?
And more importantly, where was she now?
-/-/-/-/-
Monday morning arrived. Everything seemed normal at the Gotham General. Everything except for one thing.
"Hey Lil. Have you seen Danielle today?"
The girl looked up with weariness. "No, I haven't seen her yet."
"Work started fifteen minutes ago. She's never late," Cindy persisted.
"Maybe she overslept," Lily was determined not to jump to negative conclusions, even though her and Cindy's conversation on Friday was fresh in her mind. She kept her voice down, not wanting Deirdre to eavesdrop. "You said yourself that she was acting weird last week—"
"She was. I'm worried about her, Lil."
"I am too." The two clerks sat for a moment, disregarding their work and worrying for their friend. Lily considered, "Maybe she decided to take a three-day weekend. We'll know if she doesn't come in."
"Let's ask Ms. Davis. If she's not in and didn't call for time off, I'm calling the police."
"Yeah. I know you're right. That one officer came looking for her a few weeks ago." Lily remembered how worried Danielle had looked when she left and how dejected she had looked when she came back in. But she hadn't said anything. She hadn't wanted to worry.
"I think her name was Officer Montoya. I'll call her," Cindy affirmed.
-0-
"I'm here, Montoya, what's the status?"
"We received a call today from Ms. Lee's workplace. Her coworkers reported that she did not come in today. She had been acting strangely for a week or so."
"And I'm checkin' her place to make sure she didn't just pull a Monday hangover no-show?"
"Yes. They called her home, and no response. None of her coworkers have heard from her."
"Friends?"
"Her coworkers appear to be her only friends."
"I see. And this was the girl who was waitlisted for safehousing. After the Zsasz incident."
"Zsasz has been on the loose since May 16th. He murdered one former victim, Dr. Sarah Cassidy. It is possible that he has attacked this one as well. He attacked her before in her home."
"I see. I'm knockin' now, and no answer. I'm gonna force my way in—" BANG! "No signs of struggle. Nobody's here either. The fruit in her bowl looks old. No one's seen her or heard from her since she left work on Friday. We have ourselves a missing person."
"I'll notify the server and have a picture sent out over the network."
"Make sure you put out an APB for Victor Zsasz as well. Maybe that scumbag has something to do with her disappearance."
"Will do. Come on back to station, Bullock."
"In a sec. Gotta fix the door first."
-0-
A world of red. Benches, seemingly floating along a path. A woman with her throat cut, gurgling, lurching toward a bench, falling, going still. Hands pick her up and arrange the woman's lifeless body on a bench. She's reading now.
Another. A man, with cuts all over his arms and shoulders and one across one of his eyes. A knife flies through the air, embedding itself in his back. Hands remove the knife and wipe the blade on thick army pants. A drop of blood remains; a tongue tastes the blade.
Another zombie, head down, a shadow over her face. The predator cannot see her eyes or the cut mark on her neck. Her hair is black. She appears to float.
The predator approaches her. He fears no one.
She raises her face to his. She has no eyes. They have been eaten away. And yet, with a feral growl, she raises the blade, and his hand is empty-
Zsasz's bloodshot eyes opened abruptly.
He had been having these nightmares since Saturday, when his piggy escaped again. He had felt the cold rage when he awoke passed out on those wooden stairs inside her hideout. But that anger had eventually given way to unease to remember how he had been, unconscious and vulnerable…the thought made him shudder. His zombie could have killed him. She could have given his own "gift" to him, if she had so desired, a thought he did not care to dwell on.
He had felt the blood on his forehead and anger had filled him. It should have been her blood staining his hands, not his own! He had trashed her little hideout, and then he swore to himself through gritted teeth that he would have her mark.
Now, two days in retrospect, aside from the nightmares, he wasn't nearly so upset. It almost amused him. She had been more resourceful than he had given her credit. She was giving him more trouble than any other zombie had in quite some time, save Batman of course. He wasn't bored with the chase yet, though he hadn't bothered trying to find her over the last couple of days, preferring to privately lick his wounds instead. He supposed he couldn't be too upset that their game was continuing. She was giving him so much entertainment!
He usually detested being woken. His dreams often gave him great enjoyment. But for once, considering the nature of the dream, he was grateful. And what he awoke to was delightful.
He had awoken to screams. At first he had thought they were part of his dreams. But he soon realized they were real. Was there a fight going on outside of his home? Strange…one of the screams sounded like a woman's. But it was so hard to tell.
He crept to the door cautiously. It wouldn't do if the Batman were out there…unless Batman was the one out there being overwhelmed? Then it might give him an opening. Wild thoughts raced through his sleepy imagination. It would certainly improve his mood to do some liberating. He grabbed two knives.
The screams died down and after a long hesitation, Zsasz opened the door. He was met with the sight of an unconscious thug. He looked around. No one was there. No one talking or screaming. Just the thug, who looked like someone had bruised him up badly.
A predatory grin blossomed on his face. "A lucky piggy has fallen into my lap…"
-/-/-/-/-
One thing about Gotham. You never knew what you would find here. But you knew that whatever you found would be strange. It was like something in this city attracted the strangers and freaks to it. Maybe it was the Lazarus. Or fate, or something.
The big black Bat glided through the air. He had been following the young woman for two minutes. So far he hadn't been able to catch a glimpse of her face – but he was worried. He had been on the lookout for Bane of all people when he spotted her. All alone, out here on the outskirts of the Industrial District, at this time of night…and walking funny. She was carrying a baseball bat with bloodstains on it.
He landed in front of her. She looked up, startled. But, he read in her eyes, not afraid.
A massive man stood in front of her. Easily 8 feet tall, with muscles all over his body, especially in his arms. Massive hands. Something wrong with his shoulders – with his whole body… Green shimmering veins just beneath the surface of his skin. And intimidating green eyes glaring down at her through a black and white mask. A scream rose in her throat-
There were bruises all over the young woman's body. There was a long cut on her face. She was holding her arm awkwardly, as if hurt. Blood stained her shirt. He could tell, even in the bad light, that she was a mess. She swayed a little on the spot.
"I know you," he said as he focused on her face. "Miss Danielle Lee. You were attacked by Zsasz in the hospital. Your work informed the police today that you were missing." He scrutinized her. "Did Zsasz do this to you?"
At first she appeared disoriented. Then relief mixed with dread washed over her face. It seemed like she didn't want to tell him anything.
"He threatened you," Batman guessed.
Finally, she spoke in a raspy voice. "He said he would kill my friend if I told anyone."
"Who is your friend?"
"Matthew Summers."
"Do the police know?"
She shook her head. She started to say something, but seemed to think better of it. He saw her grasp her arm a little more tightly. He wondered briefly if it was Zsasz's blood that was on the baseball bat.
"The police will make sure Mr. Summers is kept safe. You need to get to a hospital. I'll find Zsasz. Do you need a police escort to come for you?" She shook her head. He started to walk away, mind already working, but turned back briefly. "You shouldn't be out here at this time of night. This place is dangerous." And with that, the Bat disappeared into the night.
Danielle stood there shivering from the cold and felt a pang of guilt. She hadn't told him that Zsasz hadn't done the most recent injuries to her. She pondered Batman's last words. It seemed she had heard them before, two nights ago.
She was shaking so hard for a moment she didn't know what to do. Run for her life? Walk around him and wish him a good evening, act like nothing was wrong…and then run? She didn't have to make a decision, fortunately, because the man with the glowing green veins broke her terrified silence.
"You look lost," the big man observed.
She wasn't sure what to say. Somehow she felt being silent would insult him, and she thought it was a bad idea to insult him. "I guess so. I'm looking for a place to sleep," she replied, trying to keep the fear out of her voice and failing.
He pondered her for a moment. "That place shouldn't be here." He shook his head and motioned to the darkened buildings around them. "Here is dangerous. You should be more careful to be wandering in this area at night. And it looks as if you have already been in a fight tonight."
"Yeah, you could say that," she said, glancing down at herself. The blood from Zsasz's stabs had seeped through her shirt and her sleeve. It had only been a few hours since they had fought and she had fled. Why on earth had she chosen to go to Amusement Mile? It had seemed like a good idea when she left the alley in Park Row. She offered her good hand. "My name is Danielle, I-"
"In your state, you would be easy prey for a lesser person…" He started to walk away. And for some reason, even though he was terrifying, for a moment she wanted him to stay, because being alone was more terrifying.
"Wait!" she called impulsively. "What- if someone were after you? What would you do?" And then she kicked herself for asking. Yet the question had ripped from her with such envy. She wished she could be big and strong like him, and then Zsasz would never attack her. Who would want to attack someone that big? Someone with a death wish. But here she was, insulting him by asking such a stupid question…
But the big man – Bane, she would never know his name – had stopped. He turned back, and there was a deeply contemplative look on his face. Danielle didn't know what to make of it or whether to say anything else. Finally, the big man answered her: "Become stronger than he is." And then he walked away.
Danielle mused over the advice and the man's strange look. It was almost as if he was picturing someone specific when he said it. But who would go after him?
-0-
She was almost out of this horrible, godforsaken neighborhood. Seriously, as much as she loved exploring Gotham, she vowed to herself that she would never step foot in the Industrial District again.
She could have walked around and gone through Park Row. But at this time of night, any place with alleys was a bad place. Instead she took a straight shot and walked near the ruins of Wonder Tower. She saw a sign: "Sheldon Park reclamation project underway in August". Of course. They were going to try to simply bury the history of this place, pretend it never happened. It had been Sheldon Park before, but Wonder Tower had always stood here. Times were changing in Gotham City.
The light was beginning to come up over the horizon as she walked. Her back was to it, of course, but the sky didn't seem so dark. The light couldn't come fast enough.
She had broken into the old Sionis steel mill on the second night, after a long sleepless night and day wandering around Amusement Mile. She had paced in the shadows of the GCPD building, willing herself to just go inside and ask for protection. In the end, she had turned away feeling even more dejected. She considered staying in Amusement Mile, but couldn't stomach the fear of running into the big man again. So she had headed for the Industrial District.
No way Zsasz would look for her here. The steel mill was abandoned, and plus it was widely rumored to be haunted. When the authorities had come in here after the walls were torn down around Arkham City, they were in for a macabre surprise. Ghastly green smiles were painted everywhere. Munitions all over, stockpiled especially in the basement. Corpses in dark corners, with permanent smiles on their rotting faces. Canisters of Joker gas. Even an exploded large container formerly filled with Titan. They had found and arrested two large, brutish men who claimed to be lieutenants to Penguin and the Joker – Mr. Hammer and Sickle were their reported names. They were each missing an arm.
Stumbling around in the dark, she had found her way into a loft. A rope had hung from the balcony, and somehow she had gotten the idea that it might be cozier up there. She had just managed to climb up carefully and slowly with her hurt arm, when...
A grinning face assaulted her vision. The face was everywhere, a pale white phantom seemingly lit up in the dark! She was so startled she almost fell backward out of the loft – a fall that would certainly have killed her if she landed wrong – but she caught herself in time. The face didn't move, but the terrifying grin remained. She was alone in the dark space – an office, maybe? It took her a moment to realize whose face she was seeing, and to know it wasn't a ghost.
Someone had hung photos of the Joker all over the walls of the office.
She shuddered. Staying there had been one of the worst experiences of her life. She figured it was the Joker's girlfriend, Harley Quinn, who had put the photos on the wall. She hoped to God that woman was safely locked away behind bars.
All night she had had nightmares, heard cackling in her dreams. She couldn't really call what she'd had sleep, and she had awoken more exhausted than before. So she had sat there for hours, unaware of time, unaware until the day was half over that it was Monday and she had missed work.
Somehow, in spite of Zsasz's attacks, the encounter with the big man, the training, the strange dreams, the dark thoughts, and the nomadic last two nights, it was the thought that she had missed work, that her final semblance of normalcy was gone, that made her cry.
She had found herself tracing tally marks in the dust on the floor. Two for the couple killed in the park. One for the hoodlum killed on the docks. One for Dr. Sarah Cassidy. And the final slashmark across – for herself…
She wondered how many scars he had on his body. One for each person, she knew. She imagined what it must have been like before, when his skin was unblemished. She knew, hard as it was to imagine, that Zsasz was not born this way. How did he start? When did he start? How did he keep going, scar by scar by scar? How had no one stopped him yet? The questions continued. How could he do that? Look into a person's eyes, stab them through, and feel… joy. How could any of those murderers do that? How could there exist so many people in this world who were so sick?
The thoughts had her scrambling down from the loft, away from the freakish photos and the spookiness. She couldn't take it even another minute. Dead of night be damned, she had to get out of here!
-0-
Now, hours later, she breathed a big sigh of relief as she walked and tried to push away the guilt from when she- She didn't want to think about it. How had Batman found her? Had he heard the fighting? Or did that nurse from County see him and deliver her message? Did this mean she could finally go home?
Wouldn't Batman be able to find Zsasz?
She would definitely go to the hospital. But first she needed to go home and take a shower. God, she could go home and take a shower! A huge smile broke across her face. She was safe!
-0-
The summer heat was wonderful. The solstice had passed and now the summer was unbounded in its warmth. The lukewarm water from the shower felt perfect. All the blood washing away. The pain in her arm subsiding. If the water in Gotham Bay were cleaner, she might buy herself a swimsuit and go swimming there one day.
Today was a perfect day for some ice cream.
A flash of Zsasz, coming from behind the shower curtain, stabbing her in the back-
No. Just her imagination. Just her paranoia. Batman was going to find him if he hadn't already. Everything was going to be OK now. When she got out she bandaged up her arm and put bandaids on her chest. The scratch on her face was already scabbing over. The bruise on her cheek would go away in time; she just had to get some makeup to cover it up for now. Even her injuries were going to be OK. Definitely time to get ice cream and go someplace crowded.
Her phone rang.
-0-
"Hello?"
"You're home! Finally. Do you know how many of my phone calls you've missed? Checking in on you, making sure you arrived home safely."
She sat down heavily before reminding herself that she was safe, Batman was going to catch him now… "You mean seeing if I was home for you to knife me again?"
"So bitter, Danielle. It doesn't have to be this way. Death is something to look forward to."
"Than why haven't you killed yourself?" Where was this anger coming from? Usually she was terrified – but not today. Maybe it was Batman's promise. Maybe it emboldened her.
"I have a sacred mission from a higher power. I heard you took a little walk last night. I found a friend who told me all about what you did to him with a baseball bat."
Danielle's eyes widened.
She was walking through a row of abandoned buildings going away from the steel mill when she had the feeling someone was following her. She turned. No one. But she was sure she heard footsteps.
She turned away again, careful to keep near the streetlights. When she turned, she gasped.
A thug walked into the light. There was nothing special about him – no green veins, no tally marks – but he did have a knife. Seriously? Seriously?! He was trying to mug her? After everything she had been through, she was going to get harassed by some mugger?
"Don't worry, lady, just give me your money and no one will get hurt."
He was giving her a way out. There was just one problem… "I don't have any money." She had found a little bit of money while she was wandering around and had spent it on buying a blanket a night ago. She reached into her pocket and held up a measly fifty-two cents. "This is all I have."
The thug frowned. "I ain't buying that, lady. Give me your money, and I don't cut up your pretty face." He came closer with the knife.
That was it. She dropped the blanket, and her baseball bat came into view. "No, you back off."
The thug stared in astonishment. Then he laughed. "Ooh, I'm scared! A little girly girl holding a baseball bat!"
Danielle swung with a cry, hitting the thug in the arm. He dropped the knife and stumbled. He managed to get one punch on her face and sent her reeling. She caught herself and advanced on him. All the anger was coming out. She was tired of being someone's victim! "I said back off!" she yelled and swung again, hitting him in the side of one of his thighs. The thug yelled.
"OK, OK, I'm sorry—"
She hit him one more time across the shoulders. He fell. She stood quietly for a moment, staring down at him. He was alive, but he seemed to be knocked out. Maybe he hit his head when he fell on the pavement. She felt a flood of guilt as she noticed the blood on her baseball bat. She couldn't remember - had that blood always been there, was it Zsasz's or hers? Or did she just do that? What had she done? She began to feel lightheaded. Where had that anger come from? Sure, he was trying to mug her, but probably out of desperation. And she had flown off the handle and beaten the hell out of him. Maybe even caused him permanent injuries. She needed to call a hospital, but before she knew it she was running horrified into the night. WHAT HAD SHE DONE?!
The guilt was fierce now.
"How—"
"He didn't take his salvation very well. But no matter, I should thank you. You helped deliver him to me."
The absolute cold that settled over her was horrific. That man she had beat up last night… she had helped murder him. She put a hand to her mouth. That man, who she worried she had beaten up too hard… She had. Zsasz had gotten him. How had he known where she was?! Was he following her the whole time?! What had she done?!
"You… monster…"
"Shouldn't you look in the mirror?" he sounded amused. "It was you who delivered him to my salvation. He told me all about you before he died." It had been unexpected, to say the least. When the man had seen who and what he was, he had blubbered for his pathetic life, trying to make him feel pity for him for the ordeal he had already been through that night, at the hands of "a scrawny chick with a baseball bat." The baseball bat had caught his interest, and he was treated to quite a story. He pieced it together easily that Danielle had happened to be in the Industrial District that night. How interesting. "So, you're becoming stronger, Danielle. Are you that desperate to save your life?"
She was speechless.
"I am coming for you. I will give you a head start. You can be there, ready for me, or you can run. I will find you. You're becoming predictable again."
Her eyes widened and she slammed down the phone.
Baseball bat and purse in hand, she rushed out of her apartment, down the stairs, and ran…
…Never noticing the occupied phone booth on the corner near her apartment building.
-0-
He wanted to see what she would do. He wondered if it would give him even a little bit more insight into her life. A few blocks into her sprint, she ran to a policeman. He felt cold rage. Was she bringing their little game to an end already? He moved closer subtly and listened in. "…I want to turn myself in…" Oh, this was rich! She was so guilty about her role in the piggy's salvation last night that she was taking full responsibility for the crime. He watched the police officer escort her to the cop car. No handcuffs. Still…a distaste settled in his mouth. Now she would be out of reach. The police car drove off.
-/-/-/-/-
She was released two hours later. The police had taken her statement. She had thought, hoped, she would be arrested. Maybe it was guilt talking. But she couldn't believe it. She had indirectly murdered someone. Commissioner Gordon disagreed. He felt that she had acted in self-defense. She did not tell them that the mugger was dead. Then she would have exposed Zsasz's call to her to them. She had told them where the fight was, to the best of her memory. She already knew they wouldn't find his body. But it had been worth a shot, trying to own up to it.
Unfortunately, in spite of letting her go, they kept her baseball bat. They wanted to test it for forensic evidence. She felt naked leaving without her baseball bat, naked and defenseless.
The police were actually delighted to see her. They had received a call that she had not shown up to work yesterday and had been searching for her. Of course, they suspected Zsasz. They asked extensive questions about him, all of which she managed to avoid. She had told Batman, but telling the police was out of the question.
Deep inside, in a place she was only beginning to acknowledge, she knew it was Zsasz whose hand snuffed the man's life. Had Zsasz left him alone, he would have gotten up, gone on with his life, possibly mugged someone else, or possibly thought twice. Zsasz had decided that he died. It was his fault, ultimately.
In what world was it possible that Zsasz could wander free after trying countless times to kill her and others, but she couldn't even get herself arrested for outright confessing to a crime?
Of course, only in Gotham.
Maybe it wasn't too late for that ice cream. The parlor was all the way in Gotham Square. That was halfway across town. Plenty of time to think about what she'd done.
-0-
There were so many people out today, on a Tuesday. Didn't they have jobs? She hoped she still did, after not being at work either yesterday or today. She had to go in and face the music. Ms. Davis had been more than fair to her after her month long absence, and she felt ashamed for repaying her this way.
The sun was warm and comforting. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling it streak through her hair. The cries of gulls, not too far away from the square, permeated the air, along with kids' laughter, parents talking. She swirled a little of her peach ice cream on her tongue. As she watched all the happy people around her, she felt a weight lift from her heart.
"I always liked the cherry flavor myself," she heard someone say. "So red…so cold." Her head snapped around.
Deft fingers felt the back of her neck. Her skin prickled. She could feel his face brush against her hair. "What a beautiful mark!" he said as he admired the diamond-shaped scar. She must have gotten it during the fall out of her window. There was a new bruise on her face - no doubt from the dead thug last night. Her skin really was getting very tan, he noticed. Was it because it was summertime? It had taken him a little while to catch up to her, but he had never truly lost sight of her.
"Now, now-" She felt his hand leave her neck to clutch her own firmly, stopping her from reaching her mace. "You mustn't get any clever ideas." He approached her side, still holding her hand in place, and she saw his nightmarish face grinning at her.
Surreal. That was how this all felt. He was out here. This murderer was out in broad daylight with her, with dozens of people around. He noticed where her eyes were.
"Do you think I won't hesitate to kill them all if you make so much as a whimper?" Her eyes darted, calculating. "You know you wouldn't be able to save them all. I would liberate several of them before the police arrived. It's amazing what mass-hysteria can do when someone simply starts cutting away." He chuckled. The noise set her teeth on edge. He put an almost-friendly hand on her shoulder. "Come, take a walk with me, Danielle. Tell me more about your mundane life."
She wanted to throw up. She wanted to push away his hand. She forced herself to keep eating her ice cream, keep her hands from shaking too much, even though she felt sick to her stomach. She silently cursed the police for taking her baseball bat.
He slung his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. Anyone who saw them together might have thought they were a couple, with Zsasz's "protective" arm around her and the way she was pressed into him.
For her part, she couldn't believe she was pressed up against this murderer of all people. Just knowing the hostility that existed in him, the sheer number of people whose blood was on his hands, coupled with his proximity to her, was enough to make her shake violently. Except for the determination at her core. She straightened up and with difficulty, forced herself to be composed.
"Why is your life meaningful to you?" He asked the first of many questions that had been plaguing him about her.
"Because it's mine. And it's the only thing in this world that is."
Well that was a very straightforward answer, with no hesitation. But it was still wrong. "No, Danielle. Your life, your very existence…is mine now."
She noticed, to her extreme displeasure, that he had not only continued grasping her right hand, but also that he had begun rubbing little circles over it with his thumb. First her neck, then her hand? What kind of sick mind screw was this? She bit her tongue.
"Now eat your ice cream, and tell me where you've been hiding." He tried not to let his voice betray his impatience.
"I was never hiding," she tried to keep her voice neutral but was unable to stop the slightest smugness from leaking through. "I've been in plain sight, living my life."
"Really?" The grip on her fingers tightened. "Are you lying to me?"
"There's a beautiful fountain I go to, to meditate sometimes." She thought quickly, trying to name isolated places. "Another time I went for a walk near Gotham Heights. There's land back there with no one around. Beautiful for a walk." She had only been there once, a few months ago, and had decided it was too far to walk to regularly. "There's an abandoned beach-"
He silenced her by putting a fingertip on her lips. It would have been almost sweet, except for the smirk on his face and his half-closed murderous eyes. The touch was so light…
"You are searching for meaning you will never find."
"How do you know what my meaning is?"
He glared at her with sudden anger. "There is no meaning! Life is meaningless!"
"Keep telling yourself that!" In spite of her own anger, she was all too aware that he could kill her if she pushed him too far. And yet he was making it so hard not to push!
Their conversation, for all its intensity, remained hushed. It wouldn't do for someone to intervene.
He felt the muscles in her shoulder beneath his fingers. She really was getting stronger. He wanted to touch the scar on her neck again. Casually, he withdrew his fingers from her shoulder just long enough to not-so-casually run them over the back of her neck. There. He felt the raised flesh. He also felt her skin grow cold and saw the total fear mount in her eyes. She tried to pull away, and he quickly looped his arm back over her shoulder and pulled her close again. He could feel her trembling and saw that she was clenching her fist.
She could feel his touch burning into her skin. What the actual fuck was he doing?! She couldn't believe that Zsasz of all people was feeling her up. Feeling her up after trying countless times to kill her! Calm down, she told herself. He's just trying to unnerve you. It was working. How would it feel if he ever got ahold of her? She knew, she just knew, that he wanted to kidnap her that day in the greenhouse. What was it he had said? "Do you think that I will kill you quickly? I won't." If he ever got ahold of her, which judging by his arm around herhe already had, he would torture her for days. The thought made her sick. If she couldn't handle his touch now…
"Are you thinking of your salvation at my hands, Danielle?" he smirked. "If only you had given in that first night. I would have made it quick, almost painless. But you've become too interesting to kill quickly. Oh no. I will take my time and watch the despair grow in your eyes and see your blood pool around my knife, pouring from the holes I cut into your body. And by the time I have finished cutting you, you will beg me for my gift."
Maybe, just maybe, she could talk herself out of this. Oh wait, no she couldn't.
She did not understand him. She wanted to scream at him, why, why, why? Why and how did he just kill so many people? How did he look them right in the eye and get so much pleasure from tearing them apart?! Did he feel nothing for them? All the questions from her hellish night in the steel mill came back to her. Her skin crawled. And beyond even those questions…how could he say life was meaningless?
"You know what? I spent so many nights awake, asking why? Why do you do it? What makes you kill people so heartlessly—"
"You know the answer to this already, Danielle. To save you."
"Save me?"
"You know that your place is on my arm, a mark carved into my skin."
"So my spot is on your arm."
"Actually… no. It isn't. Would you like to see where?"
Not really, she thought automatically. But some sort of morbid curiosity came and compelled her. Wordlessly, she nodded. He showed her where. He quietly pulled back a small section of shirt and pointed. It was above his left breast… very close to his heart. Her stomach flipped as she saw all the other scars around that one spot. That was it. That was where her existence would end up, in his mind.
"You really think my life is so mundane?"
"Your life has certainly changed since I became a part of it," he said with a hint of smugness and was it…Danielle thought with disgust…pride? "But most people are not blessed with my gift. Look at them..."
Danielle reluctantly turned her eyes to the patrons in the square. She wasn't sure what she was expected to see.
"Why are they here? What are they doing with their lives? Waiting out the long workweek until the weekend, trying to find some way of entertaining themselves before it all starts again. The daily grind, Danielle, is imprisoning these unfortunate zombies. Most of them keep living, hoping something will happen to them, something meaningful and exciting. Some turn to sex, others drugs or alcohol or gambling or infidelity, cheating their families out of a conscious and caring family member, a person who was supposed to protect them. How selfish."
"Killing people is selfish too."
"Killing these zombies is a gift to them. It is my gift to them. This-" he motioned to himself with his free hand, "My body, this temple, is my life's work!"
She gave him a sideways look. "You wouldn't happen to be a Capricorn, would you?"
He narrowed his eyes. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"
She shrugged. "Just asking." Wow! He actually is. That would explain his insane work ethic. And my dream. I mistook a garnet for a ruby.
"I have taken it upon myself to relieve these zombies of their suffering."
"Yeah? And what if a person isn't suffering at all? What if a person is actually enjoying their life, actually thankful for the world? Would you kill that person like anyone else?"
She chanced a glance into his eyes and shuddered at what she saw, or didn't see. How could he be so…empty?!
"How don't you get it?" she asked softly, frustrated and scared at the same time. "Why is it you can look at a- at a sunset and see nothing? Do you know how beautiful a sunset is? Or feel the breeze when you're by the bay, the way it's cold and hot at the same time, especially in the summertime?" These were things she would never see or feel again, if he ever succeeded in putting a cold knife through her heart. Tears stung her eyes. "Or the way it feels to go to sleep after a long day, the relief you feel? It's the little things that make being alive so wonderful."
"So that's it? No big picture? No crusade?" He refused to admit that her imagery had stirred something in him. It was exactly how he felt when he stood on the Sprang Bridge. There, more than anywhere else in the world, he felt alive. "Surely you don't have some big noble mission to save these people in some way?"
"You're thinking of the Batman, aren't you?" she grinned in spite of herself. Zsasz was in for a shock, and she hoped it would be soon. "He's the one you haven't been able to kill. Maybe his meaning is stronger than yours."
"His meaning is the same as mine!" Zsasz snapped, yanking her roughly. A couple of patrons looked over in alarm, and he continued quietly, putting his face much closer to hers than it already was. She shuddered at his foul breath. "We are both saviors, although his crusade is driven by revenge, while my sacred mission is driven by a higher power!"
"You know he's going to catch up to you one of these days, whether I'm here or not. Are you afraid of him?" she asked boldly. "Or are you just plain suicidal to keep provoking him?"
"The Batman does not kill," his voice rang smug.
"Oh yeah? Haven't you heard about the Joker? We don't know what happened – maybe Batman did kill him, when he knew there wouldn't be any witnesses."
Zsasz lost his smile. She saw his jaw muscles clinch and felt cold fear. But then Zsasz seemed to relax. He turned to her almost casually; the arm still slung around her shoulder only added to the effect.
"I don't suppose you would tell me about the photos in your living room, the… pictures of your family?" He grinned cruelly as he saw the shock register on her face. Yes, little zombie – I was in your home! "Is your great meaning in life to go home to them, Danielle?"
Her lips trembled. White fear flashed through her as images of Zsasz mailing pieces of her to her family bombarded her mind. "Y-You don't know a thing about me. I came here so I could make a better life for myself and for all of them. That's why I'm alone here." She thought of her parents, her younger brother, her older sisters, her little cousins and nieces and nephews. "But I've learned to appreciate the things in the city that remind me of home…and I know they're more comfortable at home because I'm here, because I'm sending them money each month. That's purpose enough." She looked at him coldly. "Though I haven't been able to send as much recently for obvious reasons."
"So all that you do is for them to continue to live their meaningless lives."
"Their lives are not meaningless! We're a family. I love my family! That's meaning you could never understand."
"No, I couldn't…anymore. I had a family once. Do you know that it was their deaths that caused me to recognize my higher purpose?"
"You-you killed your family?" Her stomach clenched.
"It was a boating accident. I was 25 then. No, I didn't kill them. I didn't want them to die." He sighed. "But their deaths opened my eyes to something greater than myself: to my sacred mission."
"Don't you ever miss them?"
He gave her a look with his cold blue eyes and refused to answer her question. "I was just like you, once. I had a mother and a father who loved me, and now they're gone and I am still alone. I have no choice. But you do. Why did you not choose to stay with your family? What purpose were you hoping to achieve by coming here and leaving your so-called 'meaning in life', your family, over there? Why not stay with them, or why not bring them with you?"
"I—" Danielle was at a loss for a moment. "This is to give them a better life!"
"Wouldn't their lives be better if their beloved daughter were home with them?"
"Not necessarily," Danielle said bitterly. "They don't have ready access to health care over there. My money that I send them makes sure they have enough if there are any emergencies or sicknesses, and to buy necessary things. By doing this, I'm making sure they're healthy and alive at all, not just happier."
"Then why not bring them here?"
She gave him a very stony look. "Would I really want to when—" she motioned to him with her chin. "Why would I want to bring anyone here if it meant them getting stabbed through the neck by you? If I'm lucky, if I'm alive, maybe I'll make it back there once the cholera epidemic has passed and we don't need as much money. Even if I could bring my family here, we don't all live in the lap of luxury! Your parents were rich, right? I can tell by the way you talk. You were rich, once upon a time. That is something we never had. We were always poor…"
"Poor and miserable."
"No. Poor and deeply happy. We find joy in the simple things. Life really doesn't have to be that complicated, do you get that?" They were silent for a long moment, when suddenly she sighed, shook her head…and almost smiled. "I am not a city girl. Things are very different in the countryside. They move with a rhythm that is unlike what a person in the city would understand or experience."
It was definitely nostalgia now. She had never talked with anyone about her home in the country. She wasn't sure why not – maybe because when she had gotten here, she had been so focused on learning the ways of the city, understanding. She had never forgotten where she was from. It was just…the deep love she felt for her parents, missing her home when she was in such a different world… it made her precious home a secret, in many ways. She was sure no one would understand.
She was sure that Zsasz didn't understand either, given how little he seemed to value human life. No matter. She wasn't saying it for him. She was talking about it because it made her happy to remember.
"I saw you before at the docks. You were laughing."
She figured he wasn't going to go out of his way to liberate actual animals. "I was watching the seals." She wasn't smiling, but her eyes lightened subtly.
"And that day in the greenhouse… what were you looking for in there?"
She shook her head. "I wasn't looking for anything. I was enjoying what was already there."
Zsasz seemed at a loss for words. She enjoyed what was already there? But that was- Everyone was always looking for some sort of meaning. Her serenity baffled him.
"And why do you come here? Running from your crime?"
Despite the darkness that suddenly filled her eyes, she shook her head and said in a surprisingly soft voice, "I love it here. I love how you can see a different angle of Gotham when you're standing at the edge of the square, looking back out over the Bay. You can see the docks from here."
"You only came here to enjoy the view?"
"And to eat the ice cream."
She was looking to the side. There was a fountain not too far away in the center of the square and a beautiful statue of an angel in the middle. He saw her smile a little.
"Why not appreciate the scenery?"
He released her. It was as if it suddenly became clear to him how long he had been holding her in his grasp. She breathed a sigh of relief. But she knew she wasn't out of the woods yet.
She didn't think he wanted to kill her, at least not at this time. He wanted to intimidate her. But why? She didn't dare run. There were so many people around he could cut up. It seemed they were at a standoff. What now?
"It doesn't matter whether I kill you today, or tomorrow, or next week," he said, almost reading her thoughts. "It is your fate."
It almost made her afraid, wondering if that was all that she would mean to the world, her only significance – just another mark on Zsasz's skin the day either he finally died or was arrested for good. But she brushed the thought away very quickly. None of us leaves anything behind in this world except for memories in other people's minds. The only thing any of us can do is to make them as happy memories as possible.
"I don't know whether I believe in fate or not. But right now, I'm still here." Standing toe to toe with him, she assumed the strong stance that was becoming familiar to him. "It's my responsibility not to die. Life itself is the gift, Zsasz."
He ignored the shiver he felt when she spoke his name.
"If you're going to kill me, I don't want to be at home waiting for you to come get me."
"Why not?"
"Because you get off on that. And I don't want to give you any more power over me." He wasn't sure how to address that – until he noticed that the little piggy was still staring absently at the spot on his chest, though he had long since covered it up with his shirt. He smirked. Oh, it just proved that he did have power over her. He was always in her thoughts. But before he could antagonize her about it, she tilted her head up, and what he saw surprised him. Involuntarily, it seemed, she was smiling at him. "Besides…maybe my life ismeaningless – by why in the world would that mean it isn't interesting?"
The most peculiar sensation filled him. For a half second, he almost smiled back. When he blinked, her smile was gone. He wondered if she had realized what she had done.
"So, little Danielle, your goal is to make life interesting, with whatever time you have left."
Her posture had hardened, and her face morphed into a fierce look. Perhaps she was ready to fight him again.
He leaned so close that he saw the pupils in her eyes dilate and recede suddenly. Her fist was raised. Scared? Good. She should be. "Enjoy it," he whispered. "You will not hear me coming. After all, you didn't today." And then, he surprised both of them. He walked away.
Yes. He actually walked away from her. It was unheard of for him to willingly leave a mark behind still alive. He should have killed her. But inexplicably, he felt something. It bothered him. Oh, he knew it was because he was continuing their game that he was walking away from her now, not even a little concerned that she would follow. She wouldn't. He knew that if he turned right now, she would be standing in the same spot, staring after him, eyes wide as saucers, ice cream forgotten in her hand.
No, what bothered him was the realization that he… liked their little game. That maybe, just maybe, he didn't want it to end so soon. Maybe he didn't want to kill her just yet.
Oh well. He was sure the feeling would pass.
-/-/-/-/-