Lily was surprised at how natural it felt to walk around the streets of Gotham with James Potter.
She didn't know exactly why she had thought it would be any different— after all, James had subverted her expectations at every turn. Maybe a few months ago she would've assumed he drove around in an armoured car with a slew of bodyguards, but knowing him now she could see how markedly not his style that was. Nobody noticed them either, which was maybe the more surprising thing. But then again, who would expect to see James Potter outside of the gilded walls of downtown?
"So," James said, once they had reached a comfortable walking pace, "you must really like your friend Marlene if you're willing to humiliate yourself for her."
"What, you don't have any friends you'd humiliate yourself for?" Lily asked, noting as she did that he had remembered Marlene's name, despite her only saying it once. He'd been paying attention.
"Sure I do." James said easily, "I mean, half the stuff on those magazine covers is stuff I did on a dare."
"Really?" Lily asked skeptically.
"Oh yeah. Sirius and I have this thing going on, of who can make the most dramatic magazine cover." James said.
"Sirius?"
"Sirius Black." James said, as if he expected her to know who that was. Lily did, but the tone still felt a bit presumptuous.
"You're friends with Sirius Black?" Lily asked. It should not be surprising, really, they were both part of that socialite class after all. But where James' parents had been beloved, Sirius Black's were reviled. The Potters had bestowed their wealth upon the city, dropping millions on social improvement projects and financial aid for the city's least fortunate. The Blacks, on the other hand, flaunted their wealth in a truly sickening way. Sure, they threw money at charitable causes now and again, but it was only ever to save face, and everyone knew it. Rumor had it they had bought off several notable politicians over the past few decades, but nobody could prove it.
Sirius himself was a bit of an odd character, most similar to James in public perception. Though his family bothered to pay off a reporter every now and again to write a puff piece to rehabilitate his party-boy image. It never worked, but at least they tried. Unlike James, who seemed content to let his bad (and, as Lily was coming to find, mostly false) reputation run amok.
"Best friends, we went to school together. And every social event for the last ten years, probably."
James glanced over at Lily when she didn't respond immediately, and spoke again as if he had read her mind.
"He doesn't talk to his parents, hasn't for years."
"Makes, sense, I suppose, with parents like that." Lily said. And it did, make sense, because Lily could not see James being friends with someone like the Blacks.
James chuckled, but the laughter did not match his expression.
"If only you knew the half of it."
There was something about his tone that made Lily not want to inquire more.
"So what is this story that would win Sirius the contest?" She asked instead. Safer territory.
At this, James' face split into a grin.
"Oh, he's desperate for them to find out he's gay."
"Really?" Lily said, letting that sink in. It only took a few seconds of mental adjustment. Pictures of Sirius with random women had never played quite so convincingly as they had for James, and knowing now that they had a set of dares going cleared that right up. But then she frowned in confusion.
"Wait, why wouldn't they print that? That'd be a best-seller."
"His mother controls every press outlet in the city, and she doesn't want it getting out." James said, as if announcing this were as normal and casual as announcing that Sirius's mother ran a book club on Sunday nights, "It's a real bitch to find a reporter around here who can't be paid off. And his family has more money than his trust fund, unfortunately."
"Damn." Lily said. It was at moments like these that she was reminded that she and James lived in two very different worlds. The idea of paying a reporter to do anything was so beyond absurd to Lily, yet James made it seem like an everyday occurance.
"Damn indeed." James sighed, "It has kept me on a winning streak though."
"Well thank god for that." Lily said sarcastically, though she was smiling.
"You're mocking me, which is fine because this deserves to be mocked." James said, also smiling. He stopped walking then, and Lily almost ran into him from behind.
"We're here." James said, turning towards the building on their right.
Lily had almost forgotten that they had a destination in mind. In faltered, fading letters the sign above the store read: "Flourish and Blotts Used Books"
"Here?" She asked, puzzled. She had assumed they'd find a kiosk or something.
"Sure. I mean, I figured since I'm not on the cover this week we might as well find one where I am." James said, looking positively gleeful at the prospect and opening the door to the shop, which jingled.
"Hiya Barry!" James said, maintaining his effortless cheer to greet the shopkeeper. Barry, an older man with a mop of brown hair and his nose in a book, did not look half as pleased to see James.
"Back again, James?" He asked, reluctantly setting his book down. The cover was so faded Lily could not tell what he was reading.
"Listen, I'm looking for old magazines, particularly ones with my face on them, have you got any?"
"What on earth would you want that for?"
"I'm going to sign them. For my adoring fans, you know." James said, somehow managing to not burst out laughing as he said it. Barry looked over at Lily, as if noticing her for the first time.
"You're not one of those adoring fans, are you?" he asked her.
Lily shook her head vigorously.
"No. Not at all."
"Good." Barry said, turning his attention back on James, who had the decency to look fake hurt at Lily's statement.
"They're in the back, by the mystery section."
"I knew I could count on you, Bar'." James said, tapping the counter excitedly and tearing off to the back of the store.
"Don't call me Bar'." Barry called after him.
"Do you come here a lot?" Lily asked quietly, catching up to his long strides as they walked through the romance section.
"Enough to make Barry love me." James said, loud enough that the shopkeeper could hear.
"I don't!" Barry yelled from the front of the shop.
As promised, the floor near the mystery section held two large cardboard boxes with "50¢" printed largely on the sides in sharpie. Inside were stacks upon stacks of old magazines.
"Well, this shouldn't be hard." Lily said. Already she could see one or two adorned with James' face and a scandalous, probably untrue headline.
Lily had more fun than she would like to admit rifling through the magazines, looking for the perfect one to give Marlene. James had an explanation for every absurd headline, and there were plenty of them. Lily's personal favorite was one that most prominently featured not James, but instead a pretty blonde model. The headline, in big bold letters read "I'm Pregnant, and It's His!" next to a rather unflattering headshot of James himself.
("Sirius paid for that one, the bastard." James had said with a grin upon looking at it).
In the end, they settled on a classic paparattzi shot of James getting out of a car, with the headline "Gotham's Biggest Party Boy Strikes Again!" It was nothing particularly original, but it had a big empty space for James to fit his signature, which he adorned on the magazine as soon as they had paid (featuring a judgmental look from Barry) and walked outside.
"Here you go." He said, handing her the magazine with a flourish, "One signed CelebrityLiving from Gotham's biggest party boy himself."
"Thanks." Lily tried to hold in her laughter at the goofy look on his face, but she failed. He laughed along with her, and she noticed the little white scar under his eye again, how it crinkled when he smiled.
"Really," She said, composing herself, "Marlene'll really really like it. So thank you."
"My pleasure."
"I should be getting home." Lily said, surprising herself with how regretful she sounded. But it was getting late, Marlene was going to start wondering where she was, and her legs were stiff from walking and standing so much. They had stopped twinging uncomfortable a while back, and had moved on to feeling numb. Lily knew enough about physiology to wager this was not a particularly good sign.
"Let me walk you back to your apartment." James said easily, "It's getting dark."
Lily nearly laughed at that. Her apartment was in what might be generously called a "not nice area," though, in fairness, you could call most of Gotham that. She was fine with her ratty coat and familiarity with most of her neighbors, but bringing the city's most notorious billionaire down that way might not go as well.
"You can't, you'll—" Lily faltered, remembering with sudden clarity just exactly how James' parents had died.
"I'll what?" he asked. His tone had lost some of it's jovial edge, and Lily suspected that he knew her sentence was going to end with "get mugged." Though, giving James a closer look now, would he really? Lily had just assumed that he was wearing some rich person brand that made expensive clothes look normal, though still expensive-looking if you looked hard enough. But his jeans looked like normal jeans, his jacket nondescript and boring. Even his glasses were lacking an expensive brand labeling, just round wire frames with no room for logos or names. If you didn't give him a second glance, he looked like a normal guy. Nobody had recognized them all day. Which was almost certainly on purpose, she realized.
"Nothing." Lily said, "Nevermind."
The unsaid words lingered in the air anyways. Naturally, this inopportune moment was exactly when her right leg decided to give up on her. She would've fallen flat on her face if James hadn't caught her.
"Woah! Are you okay?" he asked, his usual joking air gone in an instant, replaced with what Lily would wager was genuine concern.
"Yeah, fine." Lily said through gritted teeth, "I just— need to sit down a minute."
James lowered her to the curb, then sat down next to her. Lily counted to ten mentally, trying very hard to not to outwardly show the pain that had started flaring up and down her leg.
"Do you need food? I can go—" James started, but Lily cut him off.
"No, no, it's fine. I'm not dizzy or anything, it's…" she trailed off. She had not told anybody about her legs, not Marlene or Marcus or anyone else. But James was looking at her with such confusion and concern, she found herself unable to lie to him.
"It's my legs. They got pinned under some rubble after the explosion, and they've been a bit… off, ever since."
James frowned, forming little wrinkles between his eyebrows.
"Do you know why?"
"No." Lily admitted, "They're not normally this bad, though."
"Uh huh." James said, clearly not believing her, "Have you followed up with a doctor?"
"They'd do an MRI, I don't have that kind of money."
James' frown deepened.
"You work at a hospital, don't you have insurance?"
"Part time. Welcome to the American healthcare system." Lily said with a wry smile. The pain in her leg was starting to subside, each little ebb a little weaker than the one before. She stretched her leg out experimentally, it seemed to be responding to stimulus again.
"I'll pay for it." James said, just as Lily thought he might. The idea made her stomach squirm.
"Don't bother. It's not a big deal. See, it's already gone, help me up?" she held out her hand. He stood reluctantly, helping pull her up.
"It looks like a big deal."
"James, let it go, alright?" Lily said. The idea of him, or anyone really, fussing over her was unsettling. Besides, she really wasn't lying when she said it wasn't so bad. She was starting to get a handle on reading it, knowing when it was going to flare up. She just hadn't been paying attention today.
James sighed, not looking happy about it.
"Fine. But I'm definitely walking you home now."
"You can take me to the train." Lily conceded. He rolled his eyes, looking much more like his usual self.
"Do you not want me to know where you live?" James asked, "Because that would be understandable, not wanting to lead a weird guy right to your door."
"Don't want Marlene to see you, more like. She'd kidnap you and hide you in our broom closet." Lily said, starting to walk in the direction of the nearest train stop. James took it as the invitation it was and walked beside her.
"See, now that sounds like a fun friend. Never a dull moment with Marlene, I'd bet."
"I know you think I'm kidding, but I'm not."
"Oh, I believe you. Wouldn't be the first time someone's tried to nab me, but it'd probably be the most fun."
Lily raised an eyebrow.
"People try to kidnap you?" she asked. That felt a little too far into the world of absurdity, though she really shouldn't be surprised. Crazier things happened around here.
"Sure. I mean, more when I was a kid, but I still get the occasional weirdo now and again." James said, not sounding the least bit concerned.
"That's horrible." Lily said, surprising herself with how much she meant it. The image of James as a little kid popped into her head, all big sweet eyes and a toothy grin. Innocent.
James just shrugged.
"People are desperate, sometimes. Can't really blame them. Though some of them are just assholes, they can fuck off."
This elicited a reluctant laugh out of Lily, but it was not enough to distract her entirely. She couldn't shake the strange feeling she had about the whole thing. It was wrong, didn't make sense. She stopped walking. James followed suit, looking at her curiously.
"Why do you still live here?" she asked, looking him straight in the eye, searching them for something. What, she wasn't entirely sure. He looked back at her, genuine confusion in his eyes.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Why would you stay here? With people trying to kidnap you? I mean, you could live anywhere you wanted, Metropolis or something, somewhere nice, why would you stay after— after everything."
Lily stumbled over her words, unsure exactly if or how to talk about his parent's deaths. But he seemed to know what she was asking anyways. He answered simply, easily, maybe too much of both.
"Because it's home."
"That's it?" Lily asked.
He contemplated what felt like a long time before speaking again, though it was probably only a few seconds.
"I don't think I'd know how to live anywhere else." he said, finally.
"It's easy. You just live." Lily said, half joking, but James didn't smile.
"Yeah. That's the trouble, isn't it?" he said.
And Lily understood then, that he treated the city like every other Gotham native did: as a sinking black whirlpool of life and death, misery and joy, fatality and pure, random chaos. Impossible to escape, once you were caught in her current. More impossible to endure, if you were so lucky. Many were not. And not even James Potter's old money had been enough to shield him, or his parents. He had scars just like the rest of them.
When Lily had first moved here, she had thought this assessment of the city was an exaggeration, a sort of hyperbolic supersticion. She hadn't understood its contradictions. But the longer she stayed, the more she could see through the thin veneer of the city, right down to it's rotting, poisonous bones. She could see where it's black and inky influence dripped into every crevice of life, burning away as much good as it possibly could, through corruption and poverty and whatever else it could wield against its residents.
And then there was the good of it all, the friendships forged in fire, the sense of comradery against a force intent on destruction. The way there was never a boring day, whether that meant a bomb exploding in your face or a random party in the street, just to celebrate your survival. It was agonizing just to exist here, but holy hell did you feel your existence. And maybe that was why James preferred it so much.
He had gone after her, after all, the only person in the room who refused to make things easier for him, who was mean to him at every turn. The only one who wouldn't play nice just for the sake of it. The only one who wasn't so blinded by his wealth and celebrity to treat him like a normal person.
So maybe he liked a challenge. Or maybe it was the realness of it all, the genuity of a city that refused to lie to you, that dealt you hardship and misery at every turn. Maybe that realness was the only thing that could break through the wall of artificiality that seemed to buffer him at all times.
Metropolis couldn't give you that. Neither could London or New York or any other city on the planet, for that matter. In one category at least, Gotham had them beat.
"Why do you live here?" James asked, pulling Lily out of her thoughts, "You're not from here."
It was not a question, though Lily couldn't remember if she had ever told him she was a transplant. He could probably just tell, most people could. Lily started walking again, James followed.
She cycled through answers in her head, trying to tow the line between honesty and acceptability. Most honest: Because I'm punishing myself. Because my sister's a bitch and my parents are dead. Because I run away from things, particularly my hometown, because you and I are not built the same.
"I needed a change." she said at last. It was as truthful as she could manage.
James nodded, like he understood. For the first time Lily seriously considered the possibility that he might.
"Did you find it?" he asked. His warm brown eyes met hers, and Lily felt a rush of nerves, though she was unsure why. She'd looked at his eyes what felt like a hundred times before.
"I think so."