Note: This story is complete on Archive of our own. Same author name.


There was only one easily available gun in the clinic - the one under Dullmacher's desk, in his office - so it had been Fish's first target after her escape.

She had freed her arm, legs and feet, then unscrewed the strap Calvin had opened from the bed, dropping the screw on the floor and letting it roll away. As for the strap itself, she had thrown it in a corner of the room. Then she had made her way down the corridor, wrapping her hospital gown around her, and tried to find a weapon. She had easily found found scissors, along with several packs of bandages, on a medical cart. Then she had gotten her hands on a nurse who was getting out of a patient's room.

«Don't scream», she had warned the woman as she grabbed her from behind, pushing one of the blades of the scissors into her mouth. «Or I swear you'll get such a special smile Francis' skills won't be enough to make you pretty again.»

Five minutes later, the woman had been dead and her body neatly packed in an empty supplies box in the closest exam room. Her slit throat was bandaged so blood would not pool around the box, and Fish had cleaned the stains on the floor. Then she had put on her pristine nurse uniform and made her way to the Dollmaker's office, snatched his gun, and vanished.

She knew all about vanishing. People tended to forget about it as, for the last twenty years of her life had been spent making herself as striking as possible, but she had made herself disappear for years of her life. When her mother had pushed her through the window, as a child of eight, with the sole instruction of «never letting her father get his hands on her», she had ran. And she had hidden, nesting under trash in the sewers, sleeping on the roofs, slipping into attics to curl into a ball under discarded furniture. She had been a terrified little girl, cowering in fear at the idea of being discovered and brought back to a father who saw her as stock, just like he did her mama. Yes, Maria had known how to hide. If you could crawl there, if you could fit, if you could be very silent, then you would live.

Now, of course, as a child, she had been hiding from cops, tweakers and pimps. Dullmacher's private security force was better trained, more dangerous, and actively looking for her. Going to the basement was out of the question: the guards would go straight to the prison, expecting her to seek help from the other captives. It was too cold and snowy outside to hope to survive a night, not to mention the island was small and offered little in the way of shelter. So Fish found herself in the attic, walking in larger footsteps on the dusty floor not to leave a trail. She stashed the food and water she had collected - both of those being readily available around the patients - at the bottom of a trunk of old bedsheets. She carefully rearranged the furniture and boxes around a tiny space where she could only fit curled up in a tiny ball. She hid there with two bottles of water and two cups of strawberry yogurt, closed the opening with a last box, and waited.

The guards came and went.

###

Oswald had expected to spend an excellent day. That had been the plan. He was to enjoy an afternoon lounging in his living room, waiting for the news of the very discreet bank heist planned for the afternoon, the one where three separate bank tellers and three security guards, not to mention the bank's manager, had been blackmailed into facilitating the way to the vaults. So many people thought they could have both children and important jobs.

Then he had heard the news, and the plan had changed to «murdering Victor Zsasz», or at least «sharply reminding him of his allegiances».

Then his guards had dragged a very disgruntled, very cantankerous Jim Gordon to his office.

«James. What, pray tell, is the meaning of this?» the crime lord said, pointing at his slightly disheveled guards.

They hadn't fought Gordon. Not really. But words had been exchanged, and there had been some pushing and shoving.

The detective set his jaw and straightened his spine.

«Where is she?»

«Considering the events of the day, I'll assume your mean 'Barbara Kean'. I have no idea. As you very well know, I've been looking for her since she fled the mansion. Imagine my surprise when it turns out the very man I had set on her trail is under her employ. I tend to forget Victor is muscle for hire.»

«How convenient that you know nothing about the whole thing», Gordon muttered.

Oswald stared at him with cold rage.

«Do you think me callous enough to work with someone who would abduct your captain's young girls?»

The blond hesitated, doubt talking hold.

«I just crossed paths with Miriam Loeb», he commented. «It does not exactly bolster your point.»

Cobblepot sighed.

«She's a guest. A well cared for guest, if I might add. She's definitely happier here than locked up in an attic, or in Arkham. She greatly enjoys my mother's company, she gets to take walks in the park, and she has everyone to talk to all day long, as opposed to 'when someone remembers to bring her food'. What, exactly, is your problem with that?»

«You… Might want not to leave her alone with your mother. I'm not sure it's safe.»

Oswald rolled his eyes.

«They both have bodyguards, Jim.»

«And I'm not totally sold on the idea that you've taken her in out of the goodness of your heart. How compliant is Loeb, exactly?»

«James. You're comparing apples and oranges. Loeb has nothing in common with Essen, and Miriam is in her thirties. She's not a five years old girl. There's a modicum of ethics to be respected in this business, Jim. Take Giulia Maroni. A few weeks ago, Franco Bertinelli - one of Salvatore's lieutenants - attempted to use her sons as hostages. She punished him. She killed her adult sons. But she let his wife and little girl leave. Hurting them would have been both out of line and unnecessary.»

The cop studied his face.

«You actually had no idea Zsasz would be involved.»

«Of course I did not. Kean's vendetta does not benefit me in the slightest! I can't stand the woman. The one time I attempted to help her out by saving her from Arnold Flass, she repaid me by slitting someone's throat in my home! I do not work with her, I have no plan to, and I can't wait for the day she returns to Arkham, where she so clearly belongs

The logic of it seemed to make his way through Gordon's addled mind.

«I trust captain Essen's girls are fine?» Oswald said. «I hear they were found unharmed?»

«Unharmed and covered in Claire's jewellery», Jim replied, still thinking.

He was no longer aggressive, though not calm by any stretch of the mind.

«I will get in touch with Victor», the crime lord announced. «And I'll attempt to get him to reveal where Miss Kean is hiding. I might have the upper hand here. I'm his main employer, and he didn't exactly endear himself to the Maroni.»

«If you get news, any news, call me», Gordon asked. «She needs to be stopped.»

«I couldn't agree more», Oswald replied, though he didn't promise to call the cop. «I'll see what can be done. Now, if you'll excuse me, but I'm afraid I can entertain you much longer. I'm on a tight schedule.»

One of the guards put his hand on Gordon's shoulder to get the message through. The cop jumped, ready to strike, but just made his way to the door.

«I'll be in touch», he said.

«I'm sure you will. Glad to be of help», Oswald replied, because he had not heard the words «please» nor «thanks».

James nodded and let himself be escorted out.

Cobblepot closed the door, walked to the window, and watched as the detective car drove away. Then he called Zsasz.

«Victor. My friend. I hear you've been rambunctious. I can't say I approve.»

«It was a job», the maniac replied. «Don't take it personally.»

«I don't. That being said, since you seem to be in dire need of funds, to the point you can't afford to turn down the most ridiculous contracts… I'll go ahead and offer you some work. I believe it won't prove as difficult as the execution of Giulia Maroni.»

There was a pause.

«I'm listening», the hitman replied.

«Bring me Kean. Bring me Gilzean. I want them at the mansion by the end of the day. Alive, for dear old Butch, and alive and well for Miss Kean. Do not delay. Do not disappoint me.»

###

You didn't know what terror was until Zsasz had dragged you to his basement. You didn't. When you did, you didn't even care that you had pissed yourself even before his car was done parking in front of his hideout. You didn't care that you were a sobbing, whimpering mess. You just wanted to die.

Butch couldn't take another second strapped to that operating table.

He should not have been taken by surprise. Barbara's little performance at the GCPD had been bound to piss Cobblepot off. But she had seemed so set on it, after talking to Kyle Paxton, that she had not listened to his protests at all. She had called Zsasz and organized a team - she had learned a lot by observing Butch, even though she never seemed to pay attention to what he tried to get through her thick skull - and located Essen's girl all on her own. Well. She had needed some help to select suitable «babysitters», and to order her team around, and more generally to handle the logistics of the whole thing. She had been very satisfied, too. «Why, Mister Gilzean, I believe we make a good team!», she had told him. He hadn't been overjoyed that she had hired Zsasz, but the psychotic bastard had gone his own way when they had left the GCPD, which had been good.

After that, they had spent a few hours shopping - jewelry, glitter, strawberry flavored chapstick - and gifted all of that crap to the girls and their grandma before dropping them at random in the Diamond District. Then Butch had driven Barbara back to the loft, and fallen asleep in the sofa while the woman watched American Idol.

He had woken to a gun again is temple. So had Kean, right after him, but she hadn't let that faze her. It was surprising, really, how many knives she could hide under those skimpy dresses. Zsasz's girl needed stitches, and possibly a new ear. But a few blades were useless against ten men and as many gun, so both Gilzean and his boss had found themselves bound and gagged in Zsasz's van, to be dragged at Penguin's feet. Five minutes into the trip, Butch had lost it, totally, because he knew where he was going to end up. When Victor pushed him into Cobblepot's office, Butch's was shaking so bad his cuffs were rattling. Then, his gag was removed, and all he could hear was the chattering of his teeth.

«Gilzean. Miss Kean. A pleasure to see you again», Oswald had said. «You will have to forgive the circumstances of your visit, but I felt a little chat was long overdue.»

Kean had frowned.

«Chat. You could have called, Ozzie.»

Butch had whimpered at that. She did not care about being tortured - she did not care about anything - but he had been about to pass out from fright.

Penguin had ignored the nickname, which meant he considered the punishment he had in store for the blonde covered the insult.

«Yes. Chat. See, Barbara, you haven't been operating in this city for long so - of course - you are not well acquainted with the rules around here. I figured you needed to be informed of them.»

She had blinked and apologized profusely.

«Have I caused problems for you? I'm so very sorry. I didn't think my little tricks could have repercussions. I mean, I haven't done much, have I? A little joke. A little favor for James.»

Oswald had clicked his tongue.

«Let's go straight to the point. Gotham belongs to me. You will not rob people, you will not abduct cops, and you will most certainly not attack the GCPD without my express approval.»

«Alright, alright. I understand. I will ask for permission! I swear! Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye! I'm so, so, so sorry!»

Her tone had sounded genuine enough.

«I don't believe your word will be enough, Barbara. I'm not even sure you have enough brains left to remember that promise by the time you walk out the door. Which is why I feel the blame lies elsewhere. I think dear old Butch should have informed you of the rules. He hasn't. As I don't believe he would willfully cross me, I'll assume he forgot about the state of things… Which means he will have to be reminded of the ways of the world.»

Gilzean's memories were hazy after that. He had started screaming. He had tried to grab one of Penguin's mens guns so he could shoot himself.

«- mean?» Barbara had said.

«I MEAN», Cobblepot had screamed to cover the howling, «that I'm granting you a refund. Here's what will be happening…»

Butch remembered thrashing and weeping and being hit on the back of the head, while Oswald talked. Then Barbara had started wailing.

«Nononononononooooooooo! Butch! Please, please, I'll do anything

It made no sense, because Barbara couldn't feel fear. She couldn't fear anything. That was part of her charm. But she had been crying all the same - faking it like a pro - and begging, and bargaining.

«What do you want me to do? Please, please, don't take him away. What do you want, Oswald?»

But Gilzean had still been dragged out of the room and to Zsasz's van.

And now he was back in his basement and he couldn't take it. He couldn't. He couldn't.

###