Chapter title inspired by "Circles" by Post Malone
TRIGGER WARNINGS*
Kidnapping
Four months! Four months of her life— wasted. She'd allowed herself to be more open with Jim than she'd ever been before. She knew from the beginning she should've kept quiet— stayed a cold mistress. It should have stayed just about the sex. But that damn man! That damned, adorable man had thawed her heart and made her feel. And how was she rewarded? A fucking break up. Claire's heart was shattered.
Truthfully, she missed him. It had been weeks since the night he'd stormed out; she'd lost count of how many. Everything was blurred by the pain, even something as mundane as keeping track of the date. He hadn't called her once and had barely looked her way at work, from what she could tell. She'd chosen not to look at him much either. The hurt and pining written all over her face was humiliating.
She missed the way his mustache would twitch as he smiled... the way his eyes softened as he looked at her... the way he held her. He always made her feel so safe and loved. Now she was back to being abandoned. At least Stan had had the decency to leave her because he went and got himself killed. Jim left by his own volition, and that hurt even worse.
Claire sighed as the last rays of sun disappeared below the horizon. She pulled on her winter boots and heavy coat. She needed to go for a walk. Her apartment held too many memories, and she wanted to clear her head. She threw on her earphones and listened to the depressing playlist she had created a few days ago. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she stalked out into the dark winter evening to walk in circles and zone out. She didn't want to think about anything, so she chose the same walking path she had done every night for the past three weeks— her body on auto pilot. Auto pilot was all she could handle these days... totally checking out, becoming completely numb.
XXXXX
Four months. For four months he had been watching her from a distance. He had nothing better to do besides plan Claire Greene's downfall. He wasn't able to get a job as a convicted felon, so he'd laid low, watching and waiting like a predator.
He'd lost several opportunities to snatch her. Some fuckwad had been drooling all over her. He'd been close enough to touch her a few months ago during a walk similar to this one. But she'd been escorted by the man on what seemed to be a romantic date. He sneered at the thought. She didn't deserve happiness.
A few months later, he had seen her at the fundraiser ball. That's when he discovered exactly who the man was: the police commissioner. The crooked DEA man's little whore was rising up the ranks. He'd tried to get close to her that night as well, but the little bitch had been surrounded by protection from both the cop and the criminal. He didn't think he'd ever have the opportunity to meet Hans Gruber face to face again— it was almost enough to deter him from his goal. But the German hadn't seemed to remember him, and from his intel, the man didn't even live on the same side of the country.
Perfect.
Now it seemed there was trouble in paradise. The cop hadn't been around for a few weeks. The recently released convict stuck around close, lurking in the shadows to make sure he wasn't mistaken. He wasnt. The cop was good and gone, and it seemed the stupid bitch hadn't retained anything his previous boss had taught her. She was distracted and alone at night. Stupid girl.
He waited until she rounded the corner. Taking a quick surveillance of the area, he was assured they were alone. He pulled out his syringe as he stalked behind her, penetrating her neck and catching her as she collapsed to the sidewalk. Now it was time for him to get what he was owed from the late, great Norman Stansfield.
XXXXX
Monday morning arrived, and Jim was starting to get worried. Claire should have been to work by now. She was never late— was this because of him? He didn't think so; she'd been to work every day since their break up. Something about this just had him on edge. Some compulsion against his will caused him to pull up that beautiful picture of her he'd taken during that incredible weekend they'd spent together. He still hadn't deleted it from his phone. His thumb had hovered over the word "Delete" so long, so many times. But he couldn't do it.
Jim had tried his best to go about his work days without looking at her, but he always registered her presence and made sure she was safe. Gauged her mood— whether she wore makeup, if she was eating well, if her gorgeous face was furrowed into a frown or seemed indifferent. She certainly wasn't smiling. As guilty as he felt for entangling himself with a mob mistress, he felt just as guilty for breaking her heart. Jim Gordon didn't throw the word "love" around lightly. He really had felt it, and he still did. But it just couldn't be. He was too angry.
Added to his angry, bitter, and broken heart was the final divorce packet delivered to his office first thing this morning by a runner for his attorney. This was it— one final signature and it was done. Barbara hadn't requested alimony, but he would continue providing child support, of course, and Barb would receive half the proceeds of the house whenever he decided to sell. She was even being amicable about that, insisting that he could stay in their home if he wanted. He supposed she felt guilty for packing his whole life up and stealing it away. He still hadn't told her he'd moved on, even over his extended New Years' visit. It was a good thing, because it would have humiliated him to admit it was already over. Another failure to add to his list.
Try as Jim might to get some actual work accomplished, worry was overtaking him. He finally walked up to Kay's office door and knocked. The administrative officer looked up from her desk, eyes widening slightly when she noticed the commissioner standing there.
"Can I help you, Jim?"
"Oh, well... I was just wondering if Greene put in a personal day? I noticed she wasn't here yet."
Kay rolled her eyes. Jim knew she had been made aware of their split. So far, from an HR perspective, it didn't seem that big of a deal. But if Greene was going to start missing work, that was a problem. Frowning, Kay answered in the negative.
Jim went back to his desk, looking for some busy work. He shouldn't care what Claire was doing. For all he knew, she was off robbing a bank or committing espionage. He was hurt that she would lie for so long. There was no way Claire thought he would be okay with her past; he was too ethical and frankly too powerful within the police force to ignore this. She was lucky he didn't bring her in for formal interrogation as part of their larger organized crime efforts.
After rearranging his desk for the third time, he took out his cell phone and shot off a text to Grace. A few minutes later, his phone chirped and he looked at the message.
No, I haven't seen her since this weekend. She was pretty upset, Jim. I've never seen her like this before. I'll try to call her and let you know.
Jim sighed as he tried to remain calm. So Claire was upset... why should that bother him? He was fucking upset too. This was her fault after all. Actually, come to think of it, he was mad at Grace too. She was just as guilty. Squeezing his eyes shut, he dragged his hand down over his face, stroking his mustache as he waited for the next text.
When his phone chirped again, three times in rapid succession, his heart clenched.
She's not answering her phone.
I've tried calling her a few times now.
She never ignores me. I'm worried something is wrong. I'll head to her apartment— can you meet me there?
Grace was an anxious woman on a good day. Any other time he'd think she was overreacting, but something inside made him feel this was worth checking out. He texted a quick be there soon before he grabbed his coat and strode out the door. He made it to her place in record time and saw Grace running towards him, sobbing.
"She's gone!! I don't know where he took her but he did!" She started dry heaving in between sobs.
"Slow down! What are you talking about? Who took her?" Jim gripped Grace's shoulders as he shook her, trying to get some answers from the hysterical woman. When she couldn't calm herself, he took off through the building entrance and up the stairs to Claire's apartment, not even bothering with the elevator.
The inside of her place looked fine. No signs of breaking and entering, nothing disturbed. But when he stepped further inside, he found a bloodied wad of blonde hair on the table, next to some mail and keys.
Jim's stomach sank. He ran back to his car to grab some rubber gloves before taking a closer look.
"Stay out here and don't touch anything," he barked at Grace. He ran back up to investigate, completely winded and heart racing. It appeared that a chunk of her hair had been pulled out by the roots; some of her skin was still attached.
Maybe it's not hers? It could just be a trap.
A sealed but unmarked envelope was beside it.
Not mail, then.
Jim carefully opened it with his gloved hands. Inside was a Polaroid of Claire strung up by her arms. Her face was a bloodied mess, and she was gagged. There was a newspaper in the photograph from Sunday, to prove the date. Flipping the picture over, he found a note scribbled on the back.
I want my money. — Benny
No. No no no no no. Not again. This couldn't be happening again. Jim was dizzy and nauseous. He couldn't think straight.
Why is it so hot in here?
The room was spinning, and his vision was getting speckled with little black dots. He ran out of the building towards Grace.
"Who the fuck is Benny?" he bellowed.
"I... I'm not sure!" she cried. She was pacing frantically.
Jim was losing his patience. The first 48 hours were critical. He whipped out his phone to call the precinct and had the number almost completely dialed before he yelled out in agony and threw his phone.
"I can't even fucking call this in! No one can know I knew about your fucked up lies," he spat at Grace.
"Look! I know you're upset! I am too. But don't take this out on me. We were just dumb kids, Gordon!" she exclaimed.
"And what about now? You're still with Gruber! Claire told me everything."
Jim sat down on the sidewalk, cradling his head as he pulled his knees to his chest. Grace cautiously approached him and sat down beside him. Sniffling, she leaned her head over on his shoulder.
"You aren't going to like this, Jim, but I think Hans can help."
Slowly opening his eyes, Jim turned to face Grace. "He better. If anything permanent happens to Claire..." he threatened. He couldn't even entertain the thought. Whenever a crisis like this happened with someone he loved, he shut off the emotion switch and focused on gut instinct and action... logical steps.
Grace swallowed audibly before nodding her head. She slowly stood and walked away from the commissioner. Pulling out her phone, she dialed the Californian phone number.
XXXXX
Hans Gruber made his way to Grace's apartment as quickly as possible. He'd booked the first flight back to Gotham and paid off as many people as possible to get him there hastily. It was evening by the time he made it to her front door.
"Hans!" Grace cried as she ran into his arms. "She's gone, Hans! We don't know what to do."
Hans breathed in the scent of her hair and squeezed her, trying to transmit some of his strength to her. But he was truly concerned himself about his little bunny.
Grace nuzzled his chest like a sweet little dove. Hans reached up with one hand to caress her head while his other stroked her back. He glanced up to find a fuming Jim Gordon sitting on her couch.
"Fucking finally. We've been waiting for hours," Jim muttered.
Sensing the tension, Grace turned around to protect her man as Jim snarled. He stomped toward Hans in a fit of rage.
"Gruber, you tell me what the fuck is going on right now, or I'll kill you myself."
Hans resisted the urge to sneer at the commissioner's meek threat. These old school cowboy cops were a dime a dozen and easily crushed. Grace had told him weeks ago that this one had dumped Bunny and broken her heart. Gordon needed to watch his step or it would be his last.
Grace glowered at the cop's threat, attempting to push her man back and away from any danger.
"It's ok, mein Liebling. He is angry— rightfully so. Come— let us all sit down and have a nice little chat so you can fill me in on Bunny, hmm?"
Jim swung at the German, his knuckles making contact with Hans's jaw. "Don't call her that!" he exclaimed as he shook out his hand in pain.
Hans set his jaw menacingly, his eyes darkening to become almost completely black. He seemed to grow another few inches in height as he towered over Jim, but Jim refused to back down. After gently removing Grace from the line of fire, Hans poked the commissioner in the chest, punctuating each word: "Dont. Fuck. With. Me... Cop." His lips popped the "p" as he concluded this threat.
Jim curled his lip in a snarl before curtly spinning around to fall back into the sofa. Hans grabbed Grace's trembling hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss of reassurance before they joined the cop in the sitting area.
"While you were sitting in first class flying over here, some of us were working on finding Claire," Jim snapped as he stood up again.
Hans rolled his eyes. "And what have you uncovered, officer?"
"It's Commissioner, but you knew that." Jim tugged on his shirt, snapping the wrinkles out of the fabric. "I tried to see if there were any fingerprints around the area, but I obviously can't use the fucking lab. Then I walked the perimeter to see if there was any evidence left behind— nothing. Then I tried to interview the doorman but he didn't see anything, of course— apparently had an extended stay on the john that evening. Normally I'd be able to call in the whole goddamn police force and conduct interviews and use the lab to check for DNA, but I FUCKING CAN'T because you idiots had to go and be fucking felons!"
Jim slumped back onto the sofa again.
"Feel better now?" the German asked, his arms crossed protectively across his chest.
"A bit, yeah," admitted Jim.
"Good. Now, if you're finished with your tantrum, tell me what else you know."
Jim leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he told Hans what had transpired after Christmas. He explained that Claire had come clean about everything and how he couldn't handle the deception and had left her. He calmly explained that Claire had continued to come to work until today. He told Hans about his intuition and the clues this Benny guy had left behind. He explained why he didn't want the police involved and also explained the importance of finding her quickly for her best chance at survival.
Hans leaned back, calculating everything the cop had said. Grace sat on the sofa, curled up next to him while she sought out some comfort. She was obviously terrified for her best friend. Hans cleared his throat.
"I think young Claire has found herself at the mercy of one of Stan's henchmen, Leibling. I seem to recall this 'Benny' being spoken of from time to time."
Turning his attention to Jim, he added, "Had she mentioned anything about feeling like she was being watched? Had you felt this way at all?"
"No," Jim spat venomously. "Don't you think I would've noticed someone fucking following us? After twenty-five years on the force?"
"Perhaps. Perhaps not. I know Bunny can be quite... distracting."
"I told you before. Don't. Call. Her. That," Jim growled.
"Boys! Please!" Grace pleaded. "Tuck away your dicks for a minute and let's figure this out. Jim, you said yourself... time is of the essence."
Hans stood up and walked over to Grace's wet bar to pour himself a drink. He took a sip, allowing the burning of the alcohol to coat his throat before clicking his tongue and turning around.
"New York," he announced. "She's got to be in New York— that's where Stan did most of his business. If Benny took her, I would bet she is there."
Jim nodded his head in understanding, eagerly looking to the German for the next step.
"Liebling," Hans purred towards Grace. "Any idea what this gentleman wants from our dear Claire?"
Grace took a minute to think. Her eyes shot to his, full of understanding. "The money, Hans. Stan's money!"
"Then we bring the money. Do you know where it is?"
Grace shook her head.
"All right. Do you know how much?"
Hans raised an eyebrow as Grace shook her head again. With a heavy sigh, he finished off his drink. "Okay, fine. We will do this my way. I'll go find her and bring her back."
"Hans! No... what if something happens? I can't lose you too!" Grace's tears were flowing uncontrollably now.
With a soft smile, Hans cupped Grace's chin and pulled her in for a salty kiss. "Don't worry, mein Leben. I am not that easy to get rid of."
Jim cleared his throat irritably at the sweet moment. "If you're finished sucking her face... I believe we have a woman to save."
"Yes, yes, ameisentätowierer."
"The fuck did you call me?"
"Literally? Someone who tattoos ants."
"What?"Hans rolled his eyes. "It is an overly pedantic person who always plays by the rules, Gordon. Rules aren't going to save her. In this case, I think we need to do things a little less... by the book?" Hans laughed, kissing Grace one final time. "You stay here, little dove— I mean it." Grace nodded and wiped the last of her tears away, trying to stabilize her breath.
"Come on, mister cowboy," Hans said quickly. "We are going to New York."
