Evil Shadow

35.

Elaine

Eyes cast down, Elaine was sitting in an almost empty room. The walls were grey and close upon her; a desk in front of her with an empty chair on the opposite side waiting for her interrogator to return to. She felt numb inside and unknowingly to her, she had not blinked for over ten minutes, not since the Commissioner had left.

Her mind replayed scenes in her head: Memories of her time in the orphanage. Eyes almost identical to her own were staring back at her, the crinkles around them showing Millie was laughing at something Elaine had said. She herself did not enjoy the joke, but she knew Millie would and had therefore memorised it just for her sister. Her brain filled with intoxicating happiness when Millie was happy. She herself could not feel much. She never had. But Millie could and when Millie felt something, Elaine felt something. There was a connection. And yet, even with their connection, Millie had still abandoned her. Left her to stay with those crooks; left her to be 'trained' by Dent; left her to be poor while she lived in plenty while fucking that blue eyed boy the Waynes had taken in.

Leaving her to feel nothing.

The Commissioner entered the room again, sighing at the sight of Elaine still just… staring. Her memories switched, disturbed by the presence in the room. But Elaine was not ready to let it go, so she ignored the Commissioner's presence and stayed put in her catatonic state.

The eyes moved away from her, revealing Millie's full form. A little child, sitting on her desolate bed. Pans were stocked up around the furniture, catching the rain water falling down from the roof. Elaine reached out a hand towards Millie, handing her a little teddy bear she had stolen from one of the other kids – a bullied boy named Thomas. The spoiled boy had cried so much when she had taken it from his hands but had stopped once Elaine had stuffed the baby's face with little blocks.

She had controlled him.

It had felt good.

Millie smiled again, and Elaine's heartstrings were pulled. A pull could be felt in her forehead and she craved to reach out further and just… merge… hug her sister until she felt what Millie felt; until she was Millie.

"Do you hear me?"

"I'm gonna call him Tiny."

"What a stupid name."

"I like it…"

"Okay. Then I like it."

"Fuck off." The Commissioner looked a little taken back. "What? Not used to seeing this face telling you to fuck off? Maybe I should say something else? Um… what about 'go fuck yourself'. Or! Even better – go suck a-"

"Alright! I get it." She just smirked at him, still annoyed that he had disturbed her path down memory lane. "Why? Why'd you do it? Attempted murder. Assault on a police building and Wayne Tower. All in league with the worst of the worst. Why?"

Oh did she have many reasons for him. But she had to play this smart. None of her closer allies were really insane. But she had once met some who had been – apart from Dent. The Joker and Harley. So if she acted like them… surely she could get away? Or at least get herself into Arkham where it was easier to get out.

"The voices told me to do it." She licked her lips seductively, nodding her head at her own words. The Commissioner frowned at her, but it was not enough of a reaction for her to have secured her passage to Arkham. "You wanna know what they have to say to me now?"

"What?"

"That I should – " she stopped midsentence, looking over at a corner of the room with an as void look as she could pull off. Her lips parted slightly and she began to whisper incoherent words. Unprofessionally so, Gordon leaned forwards to hear what she was whispering, and that was when she snapped at him. Inches away from his skin, she clasped her teeth together, knowing fully well that she could have actually done harm if she had wanted to.

And she wanted to as well… but figured threatening him was enough to secure a passage to Arkham. It was strange to restrain herself so, but not hurting him meant she had more time with him to convince the commissioner of her 'state of mind'.

He pulled back instantly and watched as she put on a show; laughing as manically as she could at his facial expression. This was not her MO. She just hoped he did not know that.

As her laughter faded out, she began to hum quietly, "Oranges and Lemons, say the bells of Saint Clemens…"

Two days later, Elaine was walking behind Ed. Both were being guided through the seemingly never-ending corridors of the smelly asylum she had now found herself in, guards all around them. They had put a mouth gag on her to keep from biting while her wrists were painfully tied behind her back in a pair of handcuffs not even Killer Croc would be able to get out of. Nygma was treated equally as bad, only they had gagged him to keep him from speaking.

She wasn't sad anymore. Hell, there was an 80% chance of her getting out from this corrupt place after all. What had she to be sad about? No, instead she felt hopeful. Or, she imagined that the faint bit of feeling inside of her was hope. Emotions had never really been her thing.

Hope of getting out and hitting that stupid little man who had left her alone; who had gone against the plan she had been working on so hard those past couple of months, combined with the hope of those good statistic of her getting out was enough for her to hum her lullaby happily as she moved along the corridors.

"Your cells will be ready soon. In the meantime, enjoy what's left of the rec-room," said the orderly as the guards guided them both inside of a barred up, large room. Everywhere, guards with batons patrolled the bars, watching intensely what the patients were doing.

Both Ed and Elaine were uncuffed and ungagged before they were locked inside the large cage – the rec room.

"Oh great… Back here again," mumbled Ed, walking over to a table where two patients were playing chess. He glared at them until they gave in and scurried away, leaving him with the chess board. He glanced at her, gesturing towards the empty seat, though she was not in the mood for games.

Yet, she knew no one else. There were some familiar faces there from the streets. She was sure she saw the Mad Hatter sitting in a corner, whispering to himself while stroking his hat-less head. Dent was there as well, sitting quietly while glowering at her… she wasn't particularly in the mood to talk to him either… So, she began to move towards Ed.

The room consisted of a couple of sofas, a lot of benches and tables for patients to sit around, and a lot of board games. There was one TV which one of the patients was dominating, watching the news with wide eyes.

"Are these all the patients?" asked Elaine quietly.

"No," replied Ed, watching as she sat down a little away from the chess board, silently declining to play with him. "They keep the more dangerous ones away from this room unless they've been on their best behaviour for a while. This whole thing is part of the 'therapy' we get."

"Oh…"

Ed continued to explain how the asylum worked, though Elaine couldn't bother to listen to him. The man was too invested in his own words to even notice Elaine turning away from him to stare at the TV.

The news that was being shown… distracted her. Much to her distaste, Bruce Wayne was talking about something in front of a group of journalists. The title said something about Mr Wayne offering money to the asylum along with a plan for the Warden to renew certain parts of the asylum to make it safer and better. She scoffed at him, glad she didn't have to see her sister's face at least.

She wondered where Bruce himself had been that night…

"When I get out of here…" she began, causing Ed to glance over at her, a little annoyed to be interrupted. He watched as she tugged at the hem of her white shirt. "I'm gonna kill that skank of a sister of mine."

Her eyes slowly moved over to look at him, and Ed smiled widely at her, "Good. A goal's all that's going to keep you sane in this place."

At the Lake House

Three months had passed since Elaine had been arrested and put into Arkham after a three day evaluation of her psyche. Millie had not talked much since it had happened, only watching the news or reading articles about the whole incident. Both Bruce and Dick were worried about her, trying their best to get her to talk, though since there were some hateful feelings left between at least Bruce and Millie, it was hard to get her to talk.

They had retreated to the lake house, a couple of miles away from Gotham. Each morning, Dick and Bruce would exercise together outside by the lake, feeling Millie's eyes on them from her bedroom window. Dick looked up once, seeing her standing by the window, staring straight at him and Bruce. He had waved at her, and, surprisingly so, she had reacted, placing her hand against the window in return. When Bruce had said something to Dick and forced him to briefly look away, she had walked away already when Dick looked back up towards the window again.

During the days, Millie would stay on the couch, reading and watching the news. In an attempt to make her talk to him, Dick had changed the channel once, smirking his signature smirk at her when she looked at him in surprise. However, instead of her reacting to him or talking to him, she grabbed her papers and walked away quietly, ignoring his few attempts to start a conversation.

Bruce had watched, Millie passing him by without even glancing at him. Bruce had given Dick a sorrowful shrug when he had looked back at Bruce in the doorway.

The fourth day, during dinner, Bruce had attempted to ask Millie about her job and future plans (Graduation was coming up after all), though she had only shrugged. Albeit the shrug was a good sign, meaning she was not avoiding either of them to the same point anymore, she had still not opened her mouth.

Later that evening when she had startled Alfred in the kitchen by managing to sneak in and grab a glass of water without him noticing, Alfred made a joke about how she truly was a Wayne, managing to sneak around like that. Though she had not responded. Briefly, she had looked at him, but said nothing nor showed any sign that she had heard him. Again, later that evening, Alfred found the glass back in the kitchen. She had once again managed to sneak around without him noticing.

The fifth day, Millie did not show up for breakfast, lunch or dinner. She remained cooped up in her room, staring at her hands as she fidgeted nervously with the bands of her nails. A pack of band-aids was lying in front of her on the covers, and each time she would draw blood from her nervous picking at her nails, she would casually place a band-aid on the finger before moving on to the next.

She was worried; worried about where her mind was taking her. She kept replying over and over again what Elaine had said to her about revenge, and she tried her best to understand… but couldn't. Not only that, but the ache in her forehead and that strange pull… she wanted to figure it all out.

However, her main priority was Elaine and gaining her trust. She was locked up now, getting help, but she doubted a stranger could help Elaine get a grip on her life. Yes, even after all Elaine did, Millie still wanted to help her. She did wonder what was wrong with her for thinking like that… but she figured it was just a naïve sense of hope that she, quite honestly, didn't want to lose. It was what defined her from her sister. It was what she clung to in order to remain her own persona.

And what could Millie do to gain her sister's trust? Well, she figured the best way was to continue her work of finding out more about their past; their parents. All her research had no doubt burned in the fire. But… they were in a vent.

A vent where, possibly, the fire hadn't reached it..?

She slapped a hand against her thigh, annoyed that she was so far away from the leftovers of the mansion so that she couldn't check it out; annoyed that she didn't have a driving license so she could steal Bruce's car. That had been her first idea, which was why she had been training herself to be quiet and sneak around. Once she could sneak past Alfred without him noticing, she felt confident enough to go through with it, but ended up hesitating as she reached for the keys as she realized she didn't know how to drive a stick – or how to drive at all for that matter.

And then, that very morning, a new idea hit her. Dick didn't have a license and yet he drove a motorcycle – or rather, Robin did. But they were the same people now…

So, how hard would it be for her to learn herself?

She glanced to the side, seeing the keys to the motorcycle she had snatched from Dick's coat as he had been sleeping. They were lying openly on her nightstand table… though the sight of them and knowing that she was stealing from Dick made it… so much harder.

And yet… she had to go.

Biting her cheek and drawing some blood, she grabbed the keys, put on a coat and some shoes, and left out through the door. The lake house was small compared to what they were all used to, so there was no garage. One car and Dick's motorcycle were parked right by the front door.

It was so easy…

"Damn…" she cursed under her breath as she felt how heavy the motorcycle was. Searching the vehicle for the keyhole, she turned away from the front door for a second or two, leaving enough time for Dick to slip out, lean against the doorway and watch her until she felt his eyes on her.

Gasping in surprise, she let go of the motorcycle and it tipped over, hitting the gravel below. Dick raised his eyebrows, putting his hands in his coat… his leather coat; the one he used whenever he would go for a drive.

"We stealing now?" He cleared his throat as he began casually walking over to her. She remained silent, not sure what to say but also not sure if her voice still worked after three months of silence. He picked the motorcycle up with one hand, blue eyes looking over at her expectantly. Before she knew it, he was reaching out a hand to her, and she lowered her head as she placed the keys in his palm. "Where were you off to?"

"The Manor."

He pursed his lips, seemingly deep in thought, "Why?" As she remained silent, he sighed, "Don't do this. Don't push me away."

The emphasis on the pronoun made her quickly look up at him, suddenly feeling a little ashamed. Was she not the one who had been grateful for surviving that fire so she could love him?

Pushing him away was not loving him…

Mirroring what he had done that day in front of the smoking remains of their childhood home, she gently reached out a hand to him. He took it without hesitating, his eyes alarmed at the distress in her eyes. A tear fell down her cheek at his determined action; dear God let this not be sibling love.

"I need her to trust me. And I can't do that without knowing."

"Knowing what?" he asked. Their fingers were still intertwined.

"Knowing what she doesn't – our parents. I need to figure it out so I can present that to her and so that she can trust me and let me help her."

"She pointed a gun at you three months ago." His words were rational, and they worded exactly what her other half was screaming at her as well. But… still. "Okay." Somehow, he had read her thoughts. She watched him glance up at the windows on the second floor, though the darkness made it impossible to see through them.

She frowned.

"I'll help. Whatever you need." He squeezed her hand and for the first time in three months… she smiled. "You were gonna ride this thing on your own?"

"Silly, wasn't it?"

"You betcha." She joined him, pulling herself near him while hugging him around his waist. The motorcycle's engine vibrated and she bit her lip. "Don't bother putting on a helmet. I never crash." She imagined he was smirking at his words, but she just rolled her eyes – though she trusted him anyway.

Bruce

Bruce sighed as he watched Dick glance up at him. Most likely he couldn't see Bruce lurking there; watching. But Dick knew he was there. And before Bruce could even react, the two youngsters had jumped on the bike and rode off.

His lips parted. He blinked twice. And then his brain registered what had just happened.

Rob- Richard had gone against his order.

"Damnit Dick…" he mumbled under his breath, quickly pulling out his phone.

"Bruce?"

"Barbara, I need you to do something for me." He brushed a hand through his already messy hair.

"Right. What is it?"

"Make your way over to Wayne Manor and check for booby traps."

"You coming back already?"

"No. But Millie might be. She'll have Dick with her, but I'm not comfortable anyway."

"Alright. I'll check it out. But, Bruce, I can only do so much. I've got a lead on the Joker and I gotta follow it tonight."

"That's fine. I just need you to check once. Dick will make sure she's kept safe."

"Bye, Bruce."

"Stay safe, Barbara."

Alfred watched him end the call and put the phone back down in his pocket.

"Don't, Alfred..."

"Don't what? Say that you're putting her in imminent danger-"

"I tried to stop her-"

"No, you didn't. You had someone else stop her. You could have just as easily walked out there and marched her right back in. You're her father, Bruce."

"I haven't been able to talk to her for months. I don't even know what's actually on her mind-"

"Then ask!" exclaimed Alfred. The older man walked over to stand next to Bruce, staring at the man with wide eyes. "Sit down with her, hug her, ask her questions - like your father used to do!"

Alfred knew very well when Bruce looked away with a darkened look in his eyes that he had struck a nerve, yet Alfred was not showing any remorse.

"This is your daughter. Your friend... Talk to her. It's as easy as that."

"No, it's not." Bruce turned and walked away, hearing Alfred sigh and knowing he was shaking his head at him.

Barbara

The remains of Wayne Manor had been clean, no boobytraps at all. And so, Barbara had returned back to the apartment, changing into her ordinary clothes before taking out her computer. The lead on the Joker was not one for Batgirl to physically follow. But it was one that would require a lot of concentration. Luckily, both her mother and father were out. Not on a date… but rather to, as they would call it, 'get more organized'.

It was a nicer word for her father helping her mother move out.

She pressed a file named 'oracle', the least obvious name she could come up with in case her father caught wind of her sneaking out every night and decided to go through her computer. To him it might just look like a file she used for her hacking hobby, which he hopefully would not decide to look through as he knew he didn't understand much of that part of her life. However if he did… he'd find that the file consists of all the work she was doing; all the detective work she was doing.

Just two months ago, Batman and Robin had placed the Joker back in Arkham, though they had not managed to catch Harley. Of course this made it possible for the Joker to escape quickly, having someone as loyal as Harley on the outside to bust him out.

Now, he was out in Gotham again, wreaking havoc. He had been spotted in several places the past week, recruiting thugs to join him. It was obvious he was planning something and from what Barbara had found out after some inventive interrogation on one of these newly recruited thugs (he had been hung upside down from a rooftop in Gotham for a while until he told her everything, just like Batman would have done), the Joker was planning on hitting the GCPD. Her father worked there, and it had become a bit too personal for her liking, but she was not going to stop going after him. The Joker was almost always after her father or the GCPD in general. She had to learn to detach herself from her personal life in order to be Batgirl to the fullest.

The Joker was a strange man. He didn't want someone specific dead for revenge, he didn't want money and he didn't want an empire… He just wanted chaos and to prove to the world how fucked up everything was. Of course, that wasn't the words Batman would have liked her to use…

If he could take out the GCPD, or weaken them in some way, the Joker would be able to create chaos in Gotham as no one would be left to take care of the criminals. Barbara figured this was what he wanted, but how he was going to do it was difficult to find out when it came to the Joker. His plans always seemed so… irrational but rational at the same time.

The man was truly a genius at the same time that he wasn't….

Perhaps she should let Batman in on what she had… but she wanted to prove something to him. Just like Robin, she was placed under his shadow. Although she was freer than he was, seeing as she didn't live with him and wasn't really being coaxed into taking over the cape at some point in her life, she still felt this pressure to keep up and prove herself to him. It was strange, but that was the affect the Batman had on people…

Or maybe this was an effect of her being a woman in a man's world? She didn't really know. But she knew Bruce didn't look down at her because she was a girl. No, Bruce was not like that which she admired a great deal.

A knock was heard on her door and Barbara quickly closed her files. She stood up, leaving the laptop on, and walked over to the front door. It was late in the evening and seeing as her parents had a key, she knew whoever was on the other side of that door was either a friend of hers or a stranger – perhaps a neighbour.

Not thinking it through, she opened the door without checking who it was.

Her eyes widened.

A hat was pulled off.

White skin.

Red grin.

Yellow teeth.

Sweet scent.

A gift wrapped in purple wrapping paper.

A camera flashing.

A gun was revealed.

Her muscles reacted too slowly.

Batman would have been disappointed…

"Candygram!"

*BOOM*