Going to visit her mother after that night was the hardest thing Lacey ever had to do.
Having murdered both of her parents, Lacey had never experienced the tragedy of losing of a family member before and losing Hannah had caused the heaviest pain to settle in her chest. She'd not been able to sleep at all, finding herself unable to breathe at the thought of her sister lying lifeless in a pool of her own blood – especially because it was all her fault. Her mind was plagued with thoughts of her sister's murder. The broken glass on the floor indicated a struggle, that Hannah had done what she had her whole life: she'd fought.
The police had cordoned off the apartment, labelling it a harrowing crime scene – one which only a violent psychopath could have caused. They didn't name any suspects, but Lacey already knew who had done such a cruel thing to such a good person. But even though she knew what he was like, it still hurt like a bullet to her chest that Jerome had done the one thing he knew would hurt her more than anything.
"I'm sorry for your loss. Your sister was a great woman." A slightly rugged-looking detective had said as she sat in the corner of the GCPD, taking off his fedora in a gesture of respect. "Harvey Bullock."
"I know you know who I am. You've been watching me since I got here."
"I do. But outta respect for your sister, I'm gonna pretend I don't." Harvey nodded towards the stairs, where Detective Gordon stood, watching them intently. "Plus Jim thinks we should give you a chance."
Ever since Lacey had reported Jerome's circus, and essentially helped saved Bruce Wayne's life, Jim had occasionally wondered what had happened to make the young girl turn on her partner in crime so suddenly. Of course Lacey had specified that she wanted to no longer be a wanted criminal; a deal which he had reluctantly agreed to for the sake of Bruce, yet he had assumed that Lacey would shortly be thrown back into Arkham. But she hadn't caused any trouble – any that he knew of – since that phone call. Nor had she seemingly struck up her criminal relationship with Jerome Valeska. Her clean slate had remained clean. And it seemed that they wouldn't be reuniting anytime soon after Jerome had claimed his latest victim.
Jim took Lacey into an interrogation room for some privacy. He didn't want anyone recognising her and launching a tirade of attacks. Besides, he really needed answers from her.
For a moment they sat in silence; with Lacey staring Jim dead in the eye, as she had done when he'd visited her in Arkham. Except this time her eyes bore a pain far deeper than before. Losing Jerome before had hurt her, but losing Hannah was painful.
"I'm sorry about Hannah." Jim said after much deliberation. "I've heard so many good things. She must've been a good doctor…"
"She was." Lacey replied quietly. "She was a good person. Too good for this shitshow of a world."
"And she was your sister? Your biological sister?"
Lacey nodded, "I never knew until she found me." She paused, trying to condense everything she wanted to say into a cohesive sentence before she burst into tears once again. "She saved me."
Jim furrowed his brow, puzzled by the situation. "So your parents…"
"They weren't my parents." Lacey retorted. "I mean that literally. My birth mom is Ellie Simmons; she's a patient at Arkham. They locked her up for trying to steal a baby from the Monroes – her baby. Me."
Lacey continued to tell her story to Jim, the words fell from her lips so naturally, like she was destined to tell it. It felt so good to finally tell the truth – her family's truth. She told him everything about Hannah's efforts; how she'd become a doctor to help clear her mother's name – she'd truly fought a nineteen-year battle for her mother. And while she was gone, Lacey wasn't going to let her life have been a waste.
"I want to come forward and tell Gotham everything." Lacey told him, the image of Hannah's lifeless eyes flashing in her mind, causing tears to slip from her eyes. Quickly, she averted Jim's gaze, refusing to let the detective see her cry. "I can't let what she did for me and mom go unsaid. People already know that she was a good person, but they need to know how truly good she was. She was brave and selfless and...she should be here and not me. I want to tell everyone what she did - what she spent her entire life trying to do."
Jim nodded, his expression unreadable but Lacey knew she'd done the right thing telling him everything. "I'll do everything I can to help you and your mother, Lacey. I promise."
But for now she had to tell her mother – a woman who hadn't spoken in almost eighteen years – of Hannah's murder. Hannah had been the only constant in Ellie's life since her admission to Arkham, the only person who'd fought tirelessly for her mother's life and her sanity, and now she was gone.
Lacey entered the dimly-lit room and took a seat in the chair across from Ellie's bed, where she was sat almost in a trance, possibly not even realising she wasn't alone in the room.
"Mom…something bad's happened and I don't know how to tell you this…I don't even know if you can hear me…" Lacey hung her head, tears falling down her cheek. "Hannah's dead. And it's all my fault."
She couldn't bear to look her mother in her empty eyes. "I let this happen…he warned me and I did nothing to save her. I'm so sorry."
Lacey plucked up the courage to look up, expecting to see no reaction from her mother, just to see her gaze staring off, her mind elsewhere. But her eyes were glossy with tears and Lacey couldn't help but gasp as she saw a single droplet fall down her cheek. Lacey took her mother's hands, her own trembling at the thought of Hannah on the kitchen floor. She prayed that Hannah hadn't suffered, she'd spent too much of her life doing that, but the blood suggested that she had. And Lacey could remember how that blood had stained her hands – it was still there – but only she could see it now.
She then recalled what she'd said to Jim Gordon before she left the precinct. After he'd listened to every word of her story. No, it wasn't hers; it was Ellie and Hannah's. She was just the only person able to tell it. They were the victims, the protagonists, the heroes who had fought hard to bring Lacey home. They had paid the price, and Lacey felt undeserving of their sacrifices. No matter how hard she tried, she would always see herself the villain in that tale. Especially now that Hannah was dead.
"You know I'm going to kill Jerome, don't you."
"He needs to be arrested, Lacey. Killing him will do more harm than good; he won't be able to serve out his punishment – and you'll be arrested. He needs to be put somewhere where he can't hurt anyone else."
"No, he needs to be stopped. The only way people will be safe from him will be if he's six feet under. For good this time. And I'm going to make sure of that."
Lacey didn't know where she'd go after leaving Arkham. She could've gone back to the GCPD and requested sanctuary until she figured out a plan to take down Jerome. But Lacey couldn't risk Jim Gordon getting in the way of her plans – he didn't realise that Arkham couldn't hold someone like her ex-boyfriend – even after all the things he'd done.
So she decided to just lay low in the hopes that a golden opportunity would materialise before her. And it did.
"Lacey Monroe?"
"Don't know her." Lacey replied quickly, glancing over her shoulder.
A woman not much older than her was standing behind her, blonde hair tied up in a tight ponytail to match her unmoving expression. "What about Abigail Simmons?"
Lacey frowned and reached into her pocket, fingers wrapping around her pocket knife. "How…"
"I work for Xander Wilde, a brilliant architect, and he would very much like to speak with you." When Lacey didn't move, the woman sighed and handed her a photograph. "Mr Wilde had a feeling you'd be untrusting. He asked me to give you this."
The photograph showed a class of 20 or so students, standing before the camera in their smartest clothes, with firm postures and creaseless smiles. Lacey scanned the three rows of well-dressed students, finding Hannah standing in the centre of the second row. She was younger, probably no older than 18, but it was unmistakeably her. Then her eyes were drawn to the boy standing two to her right. He seemed to be a few years younger, but his thick-framed glasses and stern expression could have made him seem older than he actually was. But those eyes were instantly familiar, even in the black and white photograph.
Confused, she read the list of students' names below the photo: Jeremiah Valeska.
"What's this?" Lacey asked, looking from the photo to the blonde woman, and back again. She couldn't decipher what she was seeing. "He's…this is…"
"It seems you didn't know that Lila Valeska had two sons. Interesting."
Lacey indeed had never known of Jerome's twin. She found it strange that he'd never mentioned it to her, after all she had been his partner in crime for a considerable amount of time. She'd shared her demons with him, so why had he kept such a big secret from her? Unable to make sense of any of this on her own, Lacey knew what she had to do. She had no choice.
"Take me to him."
