Wow, thanks for all the love as always to all you readers, reviewers, and favoriters/followers. Credit for the direction of the story at this point goes to my husband. My husband is one of those optimistic, kind, earnest types who has somehow gotten through his life without being chewed up and spit out by the world. I gave him the last chapter I wrote to read and he said, "... No. This needs to be darker."

I went: O_O

Also he was right. So if even my husband, the wholesome all-around-nice-guy family man wants the Gotham FanFic to go darker - we'll go darker. But this is hereby your fair warning.

Thank you thank you as always for keeping up with this. You given me awesome motivation to keep right on writing. :)

(x)

6 Years Prior

They left for the airport two hours before Madeline's flight was scheduled for takeoff, and it was the right call. Traffic was heavy with people trying to get to work on time, and though Gotham International was only a medium hub airport, it was still busy for a Tuesday.

It didn't leave them much time for a good-bye, but they made the most of it, using humor as their surefire safeguard against having to feel too much at once. (Harvey asked, "If Virginia is for lovers, what's West Virginia for?" Madeline answered, "Sheep. And cousins." Because, you know, cliches. She also practiced her Rockefeller sign, so she could do her best Jay-Z when she went through the body scanner.)

They lingered a little too long in the drop-off lane. In the midst of a deep kiss, an airport security guard tapped on the glass of the car window, and without pulling his lips away from hers, Harvey tapped right back with his badge. They stalled for as long as they reasonably could, but eventually Madeline stood on the sidewalk with her suitcase.

Harvey called after her, "Don't forget to call me." It was the third time that morning he reminded her.

"Okay. I get it." She threw up her arm like he was the most unreasonable man in the world. "I'll call you when I get there." She started to walk away and then turned back around, "Don't forget to eat something today besides doughnuts, coffee, and scotch."

Harvey smirked at her, scratched behind his neck, and let the request hang as he stood on the sidewalk. Madeline smirked right back, knowing she'd text Johnson with instructions to relay the exact same message, just to tweak him.

A soothing voice on the public address system called for someone to go to the nearest courtesy desk and announced that Flight 118 was now boarding at Gate 13B. The airport smelled like they all do. Like tons of people and substandard coffee and burnt jet fuel. Once at the Delta Airlines counter, she checked in and got her ticket. When she turned back around, she looked back through the wide window and saw Harvey still standing just outside, keeping an eye on her. She waved one more time to him before she disappeared into the maze of convenience and fast foods shops towards airport security.

As she rounded the last corner, she stepped into the very back of a snaking line of about three hundred people. The crowd ran the gamut of all stations, ages, and backgrounds. TSA screenings: the great equalizer. She scanned the people in line and noticed quite a few strollers interspersed in the crowd. Thankfully, she'd remembered her earplugs just in case she'd be boarding the Shrieking Infant Express.

Madeline was about to accept her plight and settle in, when she decided a quick visit to the ladies room would be in the best interest of her thimble-sized bladder. She'd had relationships that didn't get as far as security checkpoints. The only thing worse than an enhanced pat-down was an enhanced pat-down while trying not to pee yourself.

After she'd washed her hands, she bent down to tie her sneaker, and when she looked up, she found herself only inches away from a striking Amazon of a woman with pale skin and dark brown, almost black hair. But that wasn't what caught Madeline's immediate attention. The woman's entire face was covered with dark bruises and scratches, and her left eye was nearly swollen shut. To top it all off, she stared down her nose at Madeline, sending her a cold glare.

Madeline blinked away and stood up straight. She cast a quick glance at the stalls to her right and noticed with some unease that they were all empty. Though she didn't look back at the woman, she could still feel the Amazon shooting daggers right at her as she continued to block the only exit.

The hairs on the back of Madeline's neck stood up, and all of a sudden she wanted very badly to get back out to the line for security. Where it was busy, where there were people. She marched forward, hurrying past her to get to the-

Whap!

She was pulled and slammed up against the cold tile of the public bathroom wall. She winced as her shoulder caught the wall right before the back of her head did. What happened next was a knee-jerk reaction. Though her right arm was pinned tightly against the wall, Madeline launched herself forward. "Get OFF of me!"

Her counterattack was short-lived. She froze mid-struggle when she heard the hammer of a gun being clicked back and felt the ice-cold barrel wedge up underneath her jaw.

The Amazon leaned in. "Come on," she dared her. "Say another word. Try something." Madeline swallowed and the lump in her throat pressed against the barrel just slightly. Her stomach dropped down to her feet as she recognized her accent as Russian. She whispered, "Just give me a reason and I won't have to wait. I'll get to deal with you right now."

Madeline assessed the woman in front of her. She'd heard a lot of threats over the course of her career. This wasn't a threat. This was a statement of how things were. Also the woman's word choice hadn't been lost on her. She wouldn't have to wait. And she would get to. She would get to deal with her, which for all Madeline knew might mean pulling back on the trigger.

The woman appraised her right back. "No?" She lowered the gun and wrenched her forward by her arm. "Then walk."

Though her legs felt like jelly, Madeline made herself keep pace. The second they exited the bathroom, they were joined by a tall, overweight man who had 'hired gun' written all over him. He moved right up against Madeline, sandwiching her in between them.

He asked in a barely concealed sneer, "You're sure this is Bullock's bitch?"

The Amazon answered him back angrily in Russian, and that shut down any further line of questioning. Madeline suddenly got the feeling that the question had been meant for her to hear and not for the woman holding her at gunpoint.

She tried desperately to think, and she darted her eyes all around her. She believed they'd make her regret it if she became a problem. But she still felt the urgent, gnawing compulsion to do something, anything to get away. She told herself that it was a fucking airport. There were crowds of people everywhere. They'd come across someone, more than one person most likely, and Madeline would make them understand that she was in serious danger. And they'd help her. They'd just … They'd have to help her.

The two thugs led her through an 'employees only' entrance and immediately down a back stairway. They moved down the stairs quickly, without encountering anyone. … And how in the hell was that possible? The entire airport was literally packed to the gills with travelers and employees.

She had an unsettling thought. Unless maybe this Amazon and her thick-necked friend already considered that. Unless they knew somebody or more than one somebody who worked at the airport. Unless they paid off people to block exits and stairways. She realized all too quickly that this hadn't been staged without a set plan in place.

They stepped out onto the pavement of the parking garage, and it happened fast. So fast. Tires screeching. White van, door sliding open. Of course, then her survival instincts kicked into overdrive. She clawed and kicked and screamed bloody murder but it was too late. Two more men. They lifted her up, like she was no heavier than a rag doll, and pinned her arms behind her back. Duct tape wrapped tight around her wrists and a black cloth bag pulled down overtop her head. The door slammed shut, and the van sped off. They had her. It felt like it had taken them maybe ten seconds. That's just how easy she was to grab.

She tried to catch her breath as she sat in the back of the van. No one held a gun to her. No one grabbed her or touched her. It was no longer necessary.

It took a few moments for her work up to it, but then she spoke in the voice. The one she used at the prison. "They're going to know something happened to me the second I don't walk off that plane. You're going to have the entire police force out looking for-"

Duct tape mashed across her mouth, cutting her short.

If Madeline had understood Russian, she would have heard one of the men remark in a bored voice, "That's what they all say."