This isn't the first time that I've watched my blood circle the drain in my shower. Hell, I did it just three hours ago after I saved Dinah from those losers in the alley. One of them caught me in the nose and the other one cut my arm. So I washed my blood away.
I'm doing it again now.
I place my palms flat against the wall of my shower and drop my head right beneath the faucet, allowing it to soak me thoroughly. It's not like I need the whole cleaning thing; I took a shower a few hours ago. No, I just want the blood gone.
I feel terrible. My body aches and I just want to crawl into my bed and sleep. For like a year.
No time for that now.
I turn the shower off and stumble out of it, my bare feet sliding against the broken tile in my bathroom. I've been meaning to get that fixed for a while but I guess that will have to wait. More important matters and all of that.
I move in front of the mirror and I laugh. I look like shit. My ribs are covered with black and blue bruises. I touch the swell of one of the marks and almost immediately I flinch away. Hurts like crazy. I've been beat to hell before but the one thing I deal with the very least are broken ribs.
Everything burns when you can barely breathe.
I dress slowly, this time in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. The jeans aren't mine so they're much too big for me but they spell like the man they belong too and that's nice.
Reese.
Moving along.
Let's get back to Mick and his psycho fuck daddy.
You know, I know I'm on one hell of an emotional bender right now. I'm not too far-gone to realize that. Just the same, I'm not about to let some moron who's watched one too many Godfather movies to pummel me into my own carpet.
I don't know who this Zeus guy thinks he is but I'm unimpressed.
And really pissed off.
I slide back into my kitchen and I pull open the freezer. There's a bottle of Vodka in there. I pull it out, groaning as I lift my arm. My middle stretches and then constricts and for a moment the air catches in between. I know I shouldn't be drinking right now but I need something for the pain.
All of it.
And I need to figure this all out.
I know who I am. I know what I am.
I know I'm not a good person and I'm certainly not a hero. I regret walking away from Barbara and Dinah every single day but I still believe I did the right thing. I do. Really, I believe it.
Okay, maybe more than a small part of me really wants to go home. And by home obviously I don't mean the Clocktower. I mean Barbara. Dinah and Reese too but mostly Barbara. She's my everything. Mother, sister, best friend. I miss her like crazy.
Oh enough of this.
I'm not going home; I don't have a place there.
Good guys, bad guys. You know the drill.
And right now I need to focus. I need to figure this all out.
Big daddy Zeus is out of his fucking mind if he thinks I'm just gonna let him beat me up in my own house. Whatever his cracker son has over me doesn't extend to his old man. I meant what I said about not being anyone's bitch.
I take a hefty swig from the bottle, feeling the cold liquid slide down my throat. It settles in my gut, sending warmth up through me. I stare out the window over my stove. My unused stove mind you. That's a whole other matter. The last time I tried to cook, well, let's just say Alfred paid me to stay out of the kitchen.
I guess I'll have to take some classes or something.
Yeah, screw that, fast food for life.
I really can't cook. I mean, I'm talking burn water can't cook.
I shake my head. Focus, Hel.
What do I know about this Zeus guy? Okay, nothing.
That's not exactly true. I know he's Mick father. He said his name was Marco Jameson. The name means nothing to me but he was swinging it around like it was something big. Shouldn't be too hard to figure it out.
I move over to my kitchen table and turn on the white iBook that's sitting there. Barbara got it for me sometime last year. Something about not wanting to have me downloading certain things on to her systems.
I have to stop going there.
Focus. Just focus.
I take another hit from the bottle and it occurs to me that trying to focus while also trying to get drunk is somewhat antithetical. So I take another swig to make it make more sense.
"Let's just see who you are," I mutter aloud, putting down the bottle. I've never been much of a typist but I can manage to hunt and peck my way around a keyboard. I go to google.com and I type in Gotham, Marco Jameson.
My iBook whirls for a few moments and then finally a page comes up with several hits on the name. The first one is a newspaper article from the Gotham newspaper from a few years back. The writers' name looks familiar but I can't quite place it. Doesn't matter anyways.
It's all about Zeus.
No one bangs on me in my own house.
I feel my jaw drop as I read through the article. Barbara would be impressed what with me actually doing research and all.
I smack my head and tell myself to stop going there.
Just stop.
I lean closer to the screen and shake my head. "Damn Marco baby, you've been a very bad boy."
My eyebrow suddenly leaps up as a thought occurs to me. Dear God, Mick Collins is the son of a mob boss. Go figure, seems like the mob wants me.
Mick.
Reese...
I close my eyes tight, forcing back the thoughts. Almost as if on cue, the aroma of cologne drifts up at me. I'm wearing his jeans and his clothes have always smelled just like him.
Damn.
I take a long swig from the bottle, keeping my eyes closed. I can feel tears prickling against my eyelashes but I'm not giving in on this one.
I'm not giving in.
I put the bottle back down and I glare at the screen.
I'm having an idea.
It's probably not a good one. It probably means I'll be even more damned than I already am.
You know, blackmailed into working with Mick, set up to look like I murdered an innocent girl in the middle of a robbery and selling my soul away one piece at a time damned.
Guess what? I don't care.
Yeah, that's right. That's Goddamn right.
I'm about to walk right into the belly of the beast.
I'll bring Zeus down myself. Even if it means me. I'm already lost. The lights are already off.
Might as well kick a few tires first. Balls to the wall and all of that.
I'm sorry Barbara.
One of these days you'll forgive me. You always do.
That's all I've got left.
"Where did Reese go?" Dinah asked as she descended the stairs. She rubbed at her eyes, exhaustion clearly trying to claim her. It was almost three in the morning but she wasn't quite ready to head to bed just yet.
"He needed air," Barbara mumbled, her eyes still on the screen in front of her. Her fingers were flying across the keyboard and the display was flickering in response. Windows upon windows piled up and somehow or another, Barbara Gordon was managing to take it all in.
"Is he okay?"
"I doubt it," Barbara said, finally turning to face her blonde ward. She took her glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "Right now it looks like his current girlfriend just murdered his former girlfriend."
"Ouch," Dinah grimaced. Then she shook her head. "But we know that's not true. I mean, something else is going on."
Barbara sighed. "I know." She frowned, the frustration clearly showing itself in her tired emerald eyes. "I just don't know what's going on with her."
"Maybe Zeus somehow forced her..."
"With what?" Barbara asked, shaking her head. "I'm missing something." She ran her fingers through her hair, moving several red strands away from her eyes. "Helena doesn't rob convenience stores. She doesn't need to for one and it's just not her style for two."
"So she's been forced then," Dinah repeated. "That seems clear, right?"
"I think so," Barbara replied softly.
Dinah jerked her head up, blue eyes staring straight at her mentor. "You sound like you doubt her."
Barbara squeezed the arms of her chair, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "No, that's not exactly true."
The small blonde took a step towards the computers. She moved a mug of coffee out of the way. "I don't believe this. You always believe in her." She stopped, searching for eye contact. One she got it she continued. "We know Helena."
"Sometimes," Barbara replied. "I also know what she's capable of when she's not thinking. Right now...I don't know what...something is going on with her. She's in way over her head."
"Then we have to get her out of it," Dinah offered.
"I haven't done such a great job of that so far," Barbara muttered. She looked away from Dinah. She picked up the moved mug of coffee and stared down into the black liquid, noticing how very dark and emotionless it was.
Dinah stepped towards Barbara and kneeled before her. She reached out for Barbara's hands, encasing them within her own. "You're not to blame for this. Unless I am as well. We both failed to stop her. We both failed her."
"Dinah..."
"Doesn't work both ways Barbara," Dinah shot back. "Either we're both responsible or neither of us are."
"Dinah..."
The blonde held up her hand to silence the redhead. "Maybe we could have done more..."
"Dinah, this is my fault. I let this get out of control." She shook her head. "Five weeks ago I let her goad me into a fight. If I had..."
"She was spoiling for a fight and she got it. You're still human Barbara and you got pissed. It was her choice to go after Mick. What happened after that was his fault alone."
Barbara lifted an eyebrow, momentarily amused. "Okay, you're still sixteen right?"
"Almost seventeen," Dinah reminded her.
"So where is all this wisdom coming from?"
Dinah shrugged. "Would you believe me if I said Helena?"
Barbara snorted. "I'd believe you if you said anyone but Helena."
Dinah laughed. "Okay then, Springer."
"So Helena then," Barbara teased. She shook her head. "Tell me you didn't get addicted to that God awful show too."
Dinah made a face that looked oddly like she was trying to be embarrassed but couldn't quite manage it. "Sorry."
"I bet. You start drinking vodka and you're grounded until you're thirty."
"Not really my drink of choice," Dinah replied thoughtfully. When she looked up to see Barbara glaring at her she quickly stammered at, "Not that I have one. Pepsi and all, you know me."
"Uh huh."
"So then, now that those doubts are over, what are we going to do to help Helena?"
The computer bleeped behind them interrupting whatever response Barbara might have had. She spun back to the monitor and frowned. "Crime scene photos."
"Anything interesting?" Dinah asked, glancing over her shoulder.
"Yes," Barbara muttered. "As well as this." She indicated towards an expedited autopsy report in another window.
"Great. That's great. This is the part where you explain it to me."
Barbara lifted an eyebrow. "Sorry. I was just..."
"Conversing with yourself?"
Barbara rolled her eyes. "Okay, you're grounded now."
"You wish," Dinah snorted. She squinted as she looked at the screen. "So, do that explaining thing."
"This isn't right..."
"Barbara," Dinah teased. "I'm still in the room. I know it's just you and..."
Barbara turned, holding up hand. "You finish that statement and you're grounded until you're fifty."
"Promises promises," Dinah grinned. Then she put her head down and coughed. "Delphi."
"Dinah," Barbara admonished. She shook her head. "Don't think there won't be payback."
"I'm shaking."
Barbara smiled then and it actually touched her eyes. "We will get her through this," she said softly. "I believe that."
"Good," Dinah grinned. "Now the reports? What's so interesting about them?"
"The person who killed Jenny Thompson was male. It wasn't Helena. She was set up."
"Really?"
Barbara nodded and pointed at the screen. "The indentations are too large. It couldn't have been a woman. Also, the man who killed her was wearing a large ring. The size of it is such that a woman like Helena couldn't have been wearing it."
"So did Helena hurt her?"
"Broke her jaw," Barbara noted. "But after re-watching the video and examining this report, Helena didn't beat her and certainly wasn't responsible for her dying."
"Then I really don't get it," Dinah said, dropping into a chair. "She's working with this Zeus guy and he's setting her up? Am I missing something?"
"We both are," Barbara admitted. She sighed. "It's just about time to go directly to the source."
"You're going to actually go see her?"
"Yes," Barbara replied. "Though not quite yet. I want to get all of my ducks in a row." She frowned. "So to speak anyways."
Dinah chuckled. "I didn't really think we had ducks, don't worry."
"Why is she working for him and what's wrong with her," Barbara mumbled to herself, now back to her own thoughts. She looked up at Dinah. "You said she seemed out of it, like she was drugged?"
"Yeah."
"That doesn't make any sense," Barbara sighed. She turned to Dinah and offered her a small smile. "I need you to do me a favor."
"Eww," Dinah said, wrinkling her nose.
"What? I haven't even told you what I need yet."
"No, but I know you..."
"How droll," Barbara noted. Then she smiled again. "I need you to go by the morgue."
"Oh gross, why?"
"I need blood."
"Blood?"
"Yeah. Jenny cut Helena's face so she had to have some of her blood under her fingernails."
"Don't you think the forensics people would have already checked for that?"
"Oh I'm sure they did. They probably even ran the blood through the system but her type and DNA aren't there. They didn't post the findings in any case. I want them." She paused. "I need them. We have to know what's in Helena."
Dinah sighed. "I'm on it."
"Be careful and keep your comm on," Barbara instructed.
Dinah lifted her hand up in the air as if to indicate that she had heard. She slipped into the elevator and turned back to Barbara. Then quite out of nowhere, she grinned. Like a damn fool.
The doors closed in front of her leaving Barbara staring ahead with a look of shock on her face.
Then she laughed.
"Would you like another cup of coffee Detective?" she asks from above me. I glance up at her and nod. She tosses me this smile that's more seductive than friendly. I've been coming to this café for almost three years and she's been trying to get a date for about as long. I used to flirt with her a little bit but these days I come back her so infrequently that it seems almost forced now.
"Please," I say, quickly averting my eyes. I'm not much in the mood for flirting. Even if technically speaking, I am a single and available man.
She never exactly said the words but through her actions, Helena made it very clear that she was breaking up with me and moving right the hell on.
That's not fair and I know it. She's going through something way weirder than I quite get. I don't know exactly what's going on in her head but I know it's ugly. After almost a year of being in her life in some of the most intimate ways humanly possible, I think I kind of know what some of her demons are.
I think I kind of understand how much she hates herself.
I just don't get it.
She's a beautiful woman with a very large heart. She seems to think that her anger makes her ugly but I think it makes her complete. We all need a force kicking us in the ass and hers is her anger. Which isn't to say that sometimes I don't get annoyed when she loses control but it doesn't make me think less of her.
Even after the whole mess with Mick.
He did something to her but it was more than just the drugs and the killing. He opened up something inside of her that has scared the living hell out of her and I don't know what it is.
I want to help her; I want to go to her and sweep her into my arms and hold her until she's not afraid anymore. I know better. I know she won't let me.
She has to come to us. We all want to go to her and to yank on her but we won't. Not for now anyways. She'll just shove back and it will only make thing all that much worse.
"Jesse," Jules says from above me. She touches my shoulder gently, giving it a soft squeeze. She's throwing the biggest eyes that you can imagine at me. I take the cup of coffee from her and sip it. "You look like you're having girl problems," she starts. "I didn't know you had one." That's a speculative question; she's fishing for information.
"I do," I say softly. "We're just...she's having issues."
"Want to talk about it?"
Uh oh, I know this drill. Women who are interested in you don't talk out of the kindness of their heart. Nuh uh, they do it to further your doubts and to come off as the good friend. It's not a bad tactic but nor is it one I'm interested in.
"Thanks, no," I reply.
Her eyes slide down my body and she takes note of my injured leg. Her eyebrow lifts. "What happened there?"
"Job injury," I answer. It's only half of a lie. I can get away with that today.
"Hey," she says, leaning towards me. "You hear about that shooting at the gas station last night?"
I sigh. I rub my temples. I heard about it all right. In fact, thanks for asking, but my girlfriend is somewhat involved.
Yeah, I still haven't quite wrapped my mind around that. I don't believe that Helena herself is capable of cold-blooded murder no matter what she thinks. Beyond that however, I don't buy that she'd ever work for a controlling prick like Zeus.
The guy is a misogynistic jackoff with no respect for women. I just don't see it.
I don't even want to start thinking about the fact that the victim was my high school sweetheart. By the time she and I broke up, there was nothing left of us but still, it hurts.
And I need to know what Helena's involvement in it all is.
"Jesse?"
"Yeah, I heard about it," I finally answer. "I'm off-duty right now so I don't know much."
She shrugs. "You look lonely."
"I'm okay. Miles to go and all of that."
She seems to understand what I'm saying. She pats my arm and then slides away. I finish the cup of coffee and I move upwards, clutching at my crutches. I want these things gone but that ain't gonna happen anytime soon.
I drop a ten-dollar bill on the table and move out towards the street. The cold hits me but it actually feels good. I see my breath in a cloud in front of me.
I should probably head back to the Clocktower to help out but I doubt that there is much that I could do. And I'm certainly not up for getting glared at by Oracle because I'm underfoot. And around her, everyone is a nuisance.
I guess it's home then. It's a place that has become awful cold and empty. A year ago it was my sanctuary. It was my place where I felt secure and at ease. Then she started staying there every now and again. We were miles from moved in together but Helena Kyle is a messy person and she tends to leave pieces of herself where she goes. That includes clothes and a certain ugly as hell blue and white blanket that she won't give up or throw away no matter how ratty it is.
And she started making some of my clothes disappear. Flannels, sweatshirts and a pair of my jeans. I know she has them even if she'll never admit it. And of course, obviously, I'm all about her having my stuff.
The thing is, now my place still smells like her. She hasn't been here in weeks but I swear I can still feel the path of the tornado. And her blanket is still on my bed. It crosses my mind to use it as a lame excuse to go see her but I'm not there yet.
I'm afraid if I do and I can't get through to her, I want have any other excuses.
One of these days I'm going to figure out how to make her look at herself in a mirror and not see a monster.
One of these days. Very soon.
Until then, I just need to know how much trouble she's in.
Because guess what, I guarantee that she is in way over her head.
And for Helena Kyle, it only goes down hill from there.
She slipped into the room, trying to walk as quietly as she could manage. She moved over to the bed and climbed on to it, hearing it creak under the slight added weight.
He sat up and blinked. "Kyle?" He squinted as he took in the sleek sexual form of the woman he couldn't seem to stop thinking about. She was wearing tight leather pants and a black sweater and damn did it just all make everything look more beautiful.
"Mmm," she moaned, leaning forward to kiss him. He jerked his head in immediate reaction and then realized what was happening and loosened up. He felt her teeth nibble at his lip and he opened his mouth to accept the oral embrace.
"What's up with you?" he asked. "A little bit drunk?"
She laughed. "Just a little."
She stood up and crossed over to the bar. She pulled open the refrigerator and began to look through the contents. She reached for a bottle of beer but he caught her hand. "Uh uh, I think you've had enough."
She blinked, incredulous. "You're cutting me off?"
He reached in and pulled out the bottle of orange juice. "Have some juice okay?" He touched her face and then leaned forward to kiss her. She forced herself to be receptive. "God I like you like this, when you're not fighting me."
'Uh huh," she snorted, breaking away. She quickly grabbed at the offered glass of juice, thankful for anything that might divert his attention. She had known what she was getting herself into by deciding to play the game with him but had forgotten just how much she detested him. She quickly drained the glass. "Better?"
"Much," he replied, taking her hand. There was a strange look on his face, one she couldn't quite put a finger on. She knew she didn't like it but she didn't have time to think about it.
The plan was all that mattered.
Zeus.
He yanked her on to the bed and slid her fingers beneath her sweater. He pressed his mouth to her neck and started to nibble at the skin. He stopped when he felt tape. "What happened to you?"
She smiled at him. "Nothing that I won't be dealing with."
He shrugged and went back to kissing her neck. She let him, staring straight ahead at the wall. She scooped up a handful of sheets and held it tightly between her fingers, digging her nails into the fabric. She felt him slide the sweater upwards. "Lift your arms."
She did as he asked, allowing him to slide the black sweater up and over her head. He frowned at the white tape that was wrapped around her broken ribs. Then he sighed, apparently deciding that it wasn't that big of a deal. He bent his head and continued to press kisses against her skin. She felt his fingers slide over her bra, fumbling at the latch. Nuh uh, time to stop the fun. So to speak anyways.
She spun around and toppled him backwards on the bed, effectively stopping him from further undressing her. "Relax," she purred, swallowing back the bile in her throat. She kissed him hard on the mouth and ripped at his shirt, tearing it away from his chest in one swoop. "Pants," she ordered him. "Take them off."
He didn't hesitate. He reached down and stripped away his flannel pants, leaving him completely naked in front of her. She pushed him back down and kissed him again. She wove her fingers into his and pulled their mingled hands above their heads. She grunted and pushed into him, forcing them closer to the headboard, all the while still kissing him.
She released one of his hands and reached behind her. She pulled a pair of cuffs out from the back of her pants. She broke away to get air and then went back in for another kiss. She took his hands in hers again, squeezing them tighter when he recoiled from the cold metal of the shackles. Pushing him hard against the headboard, she snapped the handcuffs around his left wrist and the knob at the top of the board.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he growled.
She broke the kiss. "Playing," she replied. "Don't you like adventure? Don't you like games where people can't fight back?" She pulled back and punched him across the face, splitting his lip. A drop of blood splattered against her knuckle.
"This is stupid," he growled at her. "You don't want to do this."
"Probably is stupid but yeah I really do want to do this," she replied. She stood up and crossed over to his dresser. She yanked it open and pulled out another set of cuffs that was hidden under his boxers. She returned to him and slapped the restrains around his right hand, tightening his connection to the bed.
"Let me the fuck go now," he hissed, squirming against the chains.
"No," she replied. She reached down for her sweater, inhaling sharply as she bent over. The small amount of grinding against Mick had aggravated her entire chest and her broken rib was screaming bloody murder at her. She pulled the sweater on. "Let's just say we're done here."
"We're far from done," Mick snapped back. "You will regret this."
"One more of those isn't going to break my back," she replied, walking over to his desk. She picked up the Dell laptop and turned it over in her hands. "My photos on here?"
"I have backups," he said, trying to calm himself.
She nodded slowly. "I know you do."
Then she dropped the laptop. It hit the ground with a crack but stayed in one piece. She gave it a hard kick and then one more. The latch snapped and the lid popped. She pressed her foot against the LCD until it finally gave and sunk inwards.
"Baby you will regret this," he promised her.
She cocked her head. "I'm not your baby and you already said that you stupid jackass. And guess what, I'm done with regrets." She held out her arms. "This is me; killer and all."
She punched him once more, feeling an absurd amount of power surge through her. She had the sense to be scared about it for a few moments but then knocked it back down. It was all or nothing.
She bent over and picked up his discarded flannel pants. She ripped one leg free of the fabric and crossed back over to him. Leaning over him she tied the rag over his mouth, cutting off a stream of vulgarity.
"I'll be back soon and we'll talk about those pictures," she assured him. She blew a kiss at him and slipped out the door.
Once she was back in the hallway, she sagged against the wall. The whole point of tying him up had been to make sure she couldn't interfere with what she wanted to do to Zeus. How she wanted to stop him. The thrill she'd gotten from standing over Mick had terrified her. It really did mean that at her root she was already damaged goods.
Damned and all.
She placed a hand over her bruised ribs and started down the hallway. She knew just from overhearing Mick talk to some of his boys that just about every detail of every transaction they made was kept in Jameson's office.
"Which is right here," she mumbled to herself as she pushed a door open. She questioned the wisdom of entering a room blind but sighed in relief when she saw that it was empty. "So far so good."
She walked over to the large wood desk and used her strength to rip open the top drawer. She cocked her head to the side as she glanced at the papers there. They didn't say much. Or maybe just not anything that she could quite understand.
"Wait, wait, wait," she muttered, picking up one of the sheets. It looked like an invoice for parts. Transistors or something like that. "Why am I not buying?"
She turned the paper over in her hands and then laughed. "Tonight then." She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was just before four in the morning. The delivery was due into the New Gotham Harbor at about fifteen minutes until five.
She rubbed her hands together, a glint overtaking her eyes. In the back of her mind a voice began to scream at her, begging her to stop and think.
That time had passed.
She touched her ribs gently, feeling the pain sear up through her.
He'd made a big mistake.
A very big mistake.
And the line between good and evil no longer existed in her mind.
Showtime.
TBC...
I'm doing it again now.
I place my palms flat against the wall of my shower and drop my head right beneath the faucet, allowing it to soak me thoroughly. It's not like I need the whole cleaning thing; I took a shower a few hours ago. No, I just want the blood gone.
I feel terrible. My body aches and I just want to crawl into my bed and sleep. For like a year.
No time for that now.
I turn the shower off and stumble out of it, my bare feet sliding against the broken tile in my bathroom. I've been meaning to get that fixed for a while but I guess that will have to wait. More important matters and all of that.
I move in front of the mirror and I laugh. I look like shit. My ribs are covered with black and blue bruises. I touch the swell of one of the marks and almost immediately I flinch away. Hurts like crazy. I've been beat to hell before but the one thing I deal with the very least are broken ribs.
Everything burns when you can barely breathe.
I dress slowly, this time in a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. The jeans aren't mine so they're much too big for me but they spell like the man they belong too and that's nice.
Reese.
Moving along.
Let's get back to Mick and his psycho fuck daddy.
You know, I know I'm on one hell of an emotional bender right now. I'm not too far-gone to realize that. Just the same, I'm not about to let some moron who's watched one too many Godfather movies to pummel me into my own carpet.
I don't know who this Zeus guy thinks he is but I'm unimpressed.
And really pissed off.
I slide back into my kitchen and I pull open the freezer. There's a bottle of Vodka in there. I pull it out, groaning as I lift my arm. My middle stretches and then constricts and for a moment the air catches in between. I know I shouldn't be drinking right now but I need something for the pain.
All of it.
And I need to figure this all out.
I know who I am. I know what I am.
I know I'm not a good person and I'm certainly not a hero. I regret walking away from Barbara and Dinah every single day but I still believe I did the right thing. I do. Really, I believe it.
Okay, maybe more than a small part of me really wants to go home. And by home obviously I don't mean the Clocktower. I mean Barbara. Dinah and Reese too but mostly Barbara. She's my everything. Mother, sister, best friend. I miss her like crazy.
Oh enough of this.
I'm not going home; I don't have a place there.
Good guys, bad guys. You know the drill.
And right now I need to focus. I need to figure this all out.
Big daddy Zeus is out of his fucking mind if he thinks I'm just gonna let him beat me up in my own house. Whatever his cracker son has over me doesn't extend to his old man. I meant what I said about not being anyone's bitch.
I take a hefty swig from the bottle, feeling the cold liquid slide down my throat. It settles in my gut, sending warmth up through me. I stare out the window over my stove. My unused stove mind you. That's a whole other matter. The last time I tried to cook, well, let's just say Alfred paid me to stay out of the kitchen.
I guess I'll have to take some classes or something.
Yeah, screw that, fast food for life.
I really can't cook. I mean, I'm talking burn water can't cook.
I shake my head. Focus, Hel.
What do I know about this Zeus guy? Okay, nothing.
That's not exactly true. I know he's Mick father. He said his name was Marco Jameson. The name means nothing to me but he was swinging it around like it was something big. Shouldn't be too hard to figure it out.
I move over to my kitchen table and turn on the white iBook that's sitting there. Barbara got it for me sometime last year. Something about not wanting to have me downloading certain things on to her systems.
I have to stop going there.
Focus. Just focus.
I take another hit from the bottle and it occurs to me that trying to focus while also trying to get drunk is somewhat antithetical. So I take another swig to make it make more sense.
"Let's just see who you are," I mutter aloud, putting down the bottle. I've never been much of a typist but I can manage to hunt and peck my way around a keyboard. I go to google.com and I type in Gotham, Marco Jameson.
My iBook whirls for a few moments and then finally a page comes up with several hits on the name. The first one is a newspaper article from the Gotham newspaper from a few years back. The writers' name looks familiar but I can't quite place it. Doesn't matter anyways.
It's all about Zeus.
No one bangs on me in my own house.
I feel my jaw drop as I read through the article. Barbara would be impressed what with me actually doing research and all.
I smack my head and tell myself to stop going there.
Just stop.
I lean closer to the screen and shake my head. "Damn Marco baby, you've been a very bad boy."
My eyebrow suddenly leaps up as a thought occurs to me. Dear God, Mick Collins is the son of a mob boss. Go figure, seems like the mob wants me.
Mick.
Reese...
I close my eyes tight, forcing back the thoughts. Almost as if on cue, the aroma of cologne drifts up at me. I'm wearing his jeans and his clothes have always smelled just like him.
Damn.
I take a long swig from the bottle, keeping my eyes closed. I can feel tears prickling against my eyelashes but I'm not giving in on this one.
I'm not giving in.
I put the bottle back down and I glare at the screen.
I'm having an idea.
It's probably not a good one. It probably means I'll be even more damned than I already am.
You know, blackmailed into working with Mick, set up to look like I murdered an innocent girl in the middle of a robbery and selling my soul away one piece at a time damned.
Guess what? I don't care.
Yeah, that's right. That's Goddamn right.
I'm about to walk right into the belly of the beast.
I'll bring Zeus down myself. Even if it means me. I'm already lost. The lights are already off.
Might as well kick a few tires first. Balls to the wall and all of that.
I'm sorry Barbara.
One of these days you'll forgive me. You always do.
That's all I've got left.
"Where did Reese go?" Dinah asked as she descended the stairs. She rubbed at her eyes, exhaustion clearly trying to claim her. It was almost three in the morning but she wasn't quite ready to head to bed just yet.
"He needed air," Barbara mumbled, her eyes still on the screen in front of her. Her fingers were flying across the keyboard and the display was flickering in response. Windows upon windows piled up and somehow or another, Barbara Gordon was managing to take it all in.
"Is he okay?"
"I doubt it," Barbara said, finally turning to face her blonde ward. She took her glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger. "Right now it looks like his current girlfriend just murdered his former girlfriend."
"Ouch," Dinah grimaced. Then she shook her head. "But we know that's not true. I mean, something else is going on."
Barbara sighed. "I know." She frowned, the frustration clearly showing itself in her tired emerald eyes. "I just don't know what's going on with her."
"Maybe Zeus somehow forced her..."
"With what?" Barbara asked, shaking her head. "I'm missing something." She ran her fingers through her hair, moving several red strands away from her eyes. "Helena doesn't rob convenience stores. She doesn't need to for one and it's just not her style for two."
"So she's been forced then," Dinah repeated. "That seems clear, right?"
"I think so," Barbara replied softly.
Dinah jerked her head up, blue eyes staring straight at her mentor. "You sound like you doubt her."
Barbara squeezed the arms of her chair, a soft sigh escaping her lips. "No, that's not exactly true."
The small blonde took a step towards the computers. She moved a mug of coffee out of the way. "I don't believe this. You always believe in her." She stopped, searching for eye contact. One she got it she continued. "We know Helena."
"Sometimes," Barbara replied. "I also know what she's capable of when she's not thinking. Right now...I don't know what...something is going on with her. She's in way over her head."
"Then we have to get her out of it," Dinah offered.
"I haven't done such a great job of that so far," Barbara muttered. She looked away from Dinah. She picked up the moved mug of coffee and stared down into the black liquid, noticing how very dark and emotionless it was.
Dinah stepped towards Barbara and kneeled before her. She reached out for Barbara's hands, encasing them within her own. "You're not to blame for this. Unless I am as well. We both failed to stop her. We both failed her."
"Dinah..."
"Doesn't work both ways Barbara," Dinah shot back. "Either we're both responsible or neither of us are."
"Dinah..."
The blonde held up her hand to silence the redhead. "Maybe we could have done more..."
"Dinah, this is my fault. I let this get out of control." She shook her head. "Five weeks ago I let her goad me into a fight. If I had..."
"She was spoiling for a fight and she got it. You're still human Barbara and you got pissed. It was her choice to go after Mick. What happened after that was his fault alone."
Barbara lifted an eyebrow, momentarily amused. "Okay, you're still sixteen right?"
"Almost seventeen," Dinah reminded her.
"So where is all this wisdom coming from?"
Dinah shrugged. "Would you believe me if I said Helena?"
Barbara snorted. "I'd believe you if you said anyone but Helena."
Dinah laughed. "Okay then, Springer."
"So Helena then," Barbara teased. She shook her head. "Tell me you didn't get addicted to that God awful show too."
Dinah made a face that looked oddly like she was trying to be embarrassed but couldn't quite manage it. "Sorry."
"I bet. You start drinking vodka and you're grounded until you're thirty."
"Not really my drink of choice," Dinah replied thoughtfully. When she looked up to see Barbara glaring at her she quickly stammered at, "Not that I have one. Pepsi and all, you know me."
"Uh huh."
"So then, now that those doubts are over, what are we going to do to help Helena?"
The computer bleeped behind them interrupting whatever response Barbara might have had. She spun back to the monitor and frowned. "Crime scene photos."
"Anything interesting?" Dinah asked, glancing over her shoulder.
"Yes," Barbara muttered. "As well as this." She indicated towards an expedited autopsy report in another window.
"Great. That's great. This is the part where you explain it to me."
Barbara lifted an eyebrow. "Sorry. I was just..."
"Conversing with yourself?"
Barbara rolled her eyes. "Okay, you're grounded now."
"You wish," Dinah snorted. She squinted as she looked at the screen. "So, do that explaining thing."
"This isn't right..."
"Barbara," Dinah teased. "I'm still in the room. I know it's just you and..."
Barbara turned, holding up hand. "You finish that statement and you're grounded until you're fifty."
"Promises promises," Dinah grinned. Then she put her head down and coughed. "Delphi."
"Dinah," Barbara admonished. She shook her head. "Don't think there won't be payback."
"I'm shaking."
Barbara smiled then and it actually touched her eyes. "We will get her through this," she said softly. "I believe that."
"Good," Dinah grinned. "Now the reports? What's so interesting about them?"
"The person who killed Jenny Thompson was male. It wasn't Helena. She was set up."
"Really?"
Barbara nodded and pointed at the screen. "The indentations are too large. It couldn't have been a woman. Also, the man who killed her was wearing a large ring. The size of it is such that a woman like Helena couldn't have been wearing it."
"So did Helena hurt her?"
"Broke her jaw," Barbara noted. "But after re-watching the video and examining this report, Helena didn't beat her and certainly wasn't responsible for her dying."
"Then I really don't get it," Dinah said, dropping into a chair. "She's working with this Zeus guy and he's setting her up? Am I missing something?"
"We both are," Barbara admitted. She sighed. "It's just about time to go directly to the source."
"You're going to actually go see her?"
"Yes," Barbara replied. "Though not quite yet. I want to get all of my ducks in a row." She frowned. "So to speak anyways."
Dinah chuckled. "I didn't really think we had ducks, don't worry."
"Why is she working for him and what's wrong with her," Barbara mumbled to herself, now back to her own thoughts. She looked up at Dinah. "You said she seemed out of it, like she was drugged?"
"Yeah."
"That doesn't make any sense," Barbara sighed. She turned to Dinah and offered her a small smile. "I need you to do me a favor."
"Eww," Dinah said, wrinkling her nose.
"What? I haven't even told you what I need yet."
"No, but I know you..."
"How droll," Barbara noted. Then she smiled again. "I need you to go by the morgue."
"Oh gross, why?"
"I need blood."
"Blood?"
"Yeah. Jenny cut Helena's face so she had to have some of her blood under her fingernails."
"Don't you think the forensics people would have already checked for that?"
"Oh I'm sure they did. They probably even ran the blood through the system but her type and DNA aren't there. They didn't post the findings in any case. I want them." She paused. "I need them. We have to know what's in Helena."
Dinah sighed. "I'm on it."
"Be careful and keep your comm on," Barbara instructed.
Dinah lifted her hand up in the air as if to indicate that she had heard. She slipped into the elevator and turned back to Barbara. Then quite out of nowhere, she grinned. Like a damn fool.
The doors closed in front of her leaving Barbara staring ahead with a look of shock on her face.
Then she laughed.
"Would you like another cup of coffee Detective?" she asks from above me. I glance up at her and nod. She tosses me this smile that's more seductive than friendly. I've been coming to this café for almost three years and she's been trying to get a date for about as long. I used to flirt with her a little bit but these days I come back her so infrequently that it seems almost forced now.
"Please," I say, quickly averting my eyes. I'm not much in the mood for flirting. Even if technically speaking, I am a single and available man.
She never exactly said the words but through her actions, Helena made it very clear that she was breaking up with me and moving right the hell on.
That's not fair and I know it. She's going through something way weirder than I quite get. I don't know exactly what's going on in her head but I know it's ugly. After almost a year of being in her life in some of the most intimate ways humanly possible, I think I kind of know what some of her demons are.
I think I kind of understand how much she hates herself.
I just don't get it.
She's a beautiful woman with a very large heart. She seems to think that her anger makes her ugly but I think it makes her complete. We all need a force kicking us in the ass and hers is her anger. Which isn't to say that sometimes I don't get annoyed when she loses control but it doesn't make me think less of her.
Even after the whole mess with Mick.
He did something to her but it was more than just the drugs and the killing. He opened up something inside of her that has scared the living hell out of her and I don't know what it is.
I want to help her; I want to go to her and sweep her into my arms and hold her until she's not afraid anymore. I know better. I know she won't let me.
She has to come to us. We all want to go to her and to yank on her but we won't. Not for now anyways. She'll just shove back and it will only make thing all that much worse.
"Jesse," Jules says from above me. She touches my shoulder gently, giving it a soft squeeze. She's throwing the biggest eyes that you can imagine at me. I take the cup of coffee from her and sip it. "You look like you're having girl problems," she starts. "I didn't know you had one." That's a speculative question; she's fishing for information.
"I do," I say softly. "We're just...she's having issues."
"Want to talk about it?"
Uh oh, I know this drill. Women who are interested in you don't talk out of the kindness of their heart. Nuh uh, they do it to further your doubts and to come off as the good friend. It's not a bad tactic but nor is it one I'm interested in.
"Thanks, no," I reply.
Her eyes slide down my body and she takes note of my injured leg. Her eyebrow lifts. "What happened there?"
"Job injury," I answer. It's only half of a lie. I can get away with that today.
"Hey," she says, leaning towards me. "You hear about that shooting at the gas station last night?"
I sigh. I rub my temples. I heard about it all right. In fact, thanks for asking, but my girlfriend is somewhat involved.
Yeah, I still haven't quite wrapped my mind around that. I don't believe that Helena herself is capable of cold-blooded murder no matter what she thinks. Beyond that however, I don't buy that she'd ever work for a controlling prick like Zeus.
The guy is a misogynistic jackoff with no respect for women. I just don't see it.
I don't even want to start thinking about the fact that the victim was my high school sweetheart. By the time she and I broke up, there was nothing left of us but still, it hurts.
And I need to know what Helena's involvement in it all is.
"Jesse?"
"Yeah, I heard about it," I finally answer. "I'm off-duty right now so I don't know much."
She shrugs. "You look lonely."
"I'm okay. Miles to go and all of that."
She seems to understand what I'm saying. She pats my arm and then slides away. I finish the cup of coffee and I move upwards, clutching at my crutches. I want these things gone but that ain't gonna happen anytime soon.
I drop a ten-dollar bill on the table and move out towards the street. The cold hits me but it actually feels good. I see my breath in a cloud in front of me.
I should probably head back to the Clocktower to help out but I doubt that there is much that I could do. And I'm certainly not up for getting glared at by Oracle because I'm underfoot. And around her, everyone is a nuisance.
I guess it's home then. It's a place that has become awful cold and empty. A year ago it was my sanctuary. It was my place where I felt secure and at ease. Then she started staying there every now and again. We were miles from moved in together but Helena Kyle is a messy person and she tends to leave pieces of herself where she goes. That includes clothes and a certain ugly as hell blue and white blanket that she won't give up or throw away no matter how ratty it is.
And she started making some of my clothes disappear. Flannels, sweatshirts and a pair of my jeans. I know she has them even if she'll never admit it. And of course, obviously, I'm all about her having my stuff.
The thing is, now my place still smells like her. She hasn't been here in weeks but I swear I can still feel the path of the tornado. And her blanket is still on my bed. It crosses my mind to use it as a lame excuse to go see her but I'm not there yet.
I'm afraid if I do and I can't get through to her, I want have any other excuses.
One of these days I'm going to figure out how to make her look at herself in a mirror and not see a monster.
One of these days. Very soon.
Until then, I just need to know how much trouble she's in.
Because guess what, I guarantee that she is in way over her head.
And for Helena Kyle, it only goes down hill from there.
She slipped into the room, trying to walk as quietly as she could manage. She moved over to the bed and climbed on to it, hearing it creak under the slight added weight.
He sat up and blinked. "Kyle?" He squinted as he took in the sleek sexual form of the woman he couldn't seem to stop thinking about. She was wearing tight leather pants and a black sweater and damn did it just all make everything look more beautiful.
"Mmm," she moaned, leaning forward to kiss him. He jerked his head in immediate reaction and then realized what was happening and loosened up. He felt her teeth nibble at his lip and he opened his mouth to accept the oral embrace.
"What's up with you?" he asked. "A little bit drunk?"
She laughed. "Just a little."
She stood up and crossed over to the bar. She pulled open the refrigerator and began to look through the contents. She reached for a bottle of beer but he caught her hand. "Uh uh, I think you've had enough."
She blinked, incredulous. "You're cutting me off?"
He reached in and pulled out the bottle of orange juice. "Have some juice okay?" He touched her face and then leaned forward to kiss her. She forced herself to be receptive. "God I like you like this, when you're not fighting me."
'Uh huh," she snorted, breaking away. She quickly grabbed at the offered glass of juice, thankful for anything that might divert his attention. She had known what she was getting herself into by deciding to play the game with him but had forgotten just how much she detested him. She quickly drained the glass. "Better?"
"Much," he replied, taking her hand. There was a strange look on his face, one she couldn't quite put a finger on. She knew she didn't like it but she didn't have time to think about it.
The plan was all that mattered.
Zeus.
He yanked her on to the bed and slid her fingers beneath her sweater. He pressed his mouth to her neck and started to nibble at the skin. He stopped when he felt tape. "What happened to you?"
She smiled at him. "Nothing that I won't be dealing with."
He shrugged and went back to kissing her neck. She let him, staring straight ahead at the wall. She scooped up a handful of sheets and held it tightly between her fingers, digging her nails into the fabric. She felt him slide the sweater upwards. "Lift your arms."
She did as he asked, allowing him to slide the black sweater up and over her head. He frowned at the white tape that was wrapped around her broken ribs. Then he sighed, apparently deciding that it wasn't that big of a deal. He bent his head and continued to press kisses against her skin. She felt his fingers slide over her bra, fumbling at the latch. Nuh uh, time to stop the fun. So to speak anyways.
She spun around and toppled him backwards on the bed, effectively stopping him from further undressing her. "Relax," she purred, swallowing back the bile in her throat. She kissed him hard on the mouth and ripped at his shirt, tearing it away from his chest in one swoop. "Pants," she ordered him. "Take them off."
He didn't hesitate. He reached down and stripped away his flannel pants, leaving him completely naked in front of her. She pushed him back down and kissed him again. She wove her fingers into his and pulled their mingled hands above their heads. She grunted and pushed into him, forcing them closer to the headboard, all the while still kissing him.
She released one of his hands and reached behind her. She pulled a pair of cuffs out from the back of her pants. She broke away to get air and then went back in for another kiss. She took his hands in hers again, squeezing them tighter when he recoiled from the cold metal of the shackles. Pushing him hard against the headboard, she snapped the handcuffs around his left wrist and the knob at the top of the board.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he growled.
She broke the kiss. "Playing," she replied. "Don't you like adventure? Don't you like games where people can't fight back?" She pulled back and punched him across the face, splitting his lip. A drop of blood splattered against her knuckle.
"This is stupid," he growled at her. "You don't want to do this."
"Probably is stupid but yeah I really do want to do this," she replied. She stood up and crossed over to his dresser. She yanked it open and pulled out another set of cuffs that was hidden under his boxers. She returned to him and slapped the restrains around his right hand, tightening his connection to the bed.
"Let me the fuck go now," he hissed, squirming against the chains.
"No," she replied. She reached down for her sweater, inhaling sharply as she bent over. The small amount of grinding against Mick had aggravated her entire chest and her broken rib was screaming bloody murder at her. She pulled the sweater on. "Let's just say we're done here."
"We're far from done," Mick snapped back. "You will regret this."
"One more of those isn't going to break my back," she replied, walking over to his desk. She picked up the Dell laptop and turned it over in her hands. "My photos on here?"
"I have backups," he said, trying to calm himself.
She nodded slowly. "I know you do."
Then she dropped the laptop. It hit the ground with a crack but stayed in one piece. She gave it a hard kick and then one more. The latch snapped and the lid popped. She pressed her foot against the LCD until it finally gave and sunk inwards.
"Baby you will regret this," he promised her.
She cocked her head. "I'm not your baby and you already said that you stupid jackass. And guess what, I'm done with regrets." She held out her arms. "This is me; killer and all."
She punched him once more, feeling an absurd amount of power surge through her. She had the sense to be scared about it for a few moments but then knocked it back down. It was all or nothing.
She bent over and picked up his discarded flannel pants. She ripped one leg free of the fabric and crossed back over to him. Leaning over him she tied the rag over his mouth, cutting off a stream of vulgarity.
"I'll be back soon and we'll talk about those pictures," she assured him. She blew a kiss at him and slipped out the door.
Once she was back in the hallway, she sagged against the wall. The whole point of tying him up had been to make sure she couldn't interfere with what she wanted to do to Zeus. How she wanted to stop him. The thrill she'd gotten from standing over Mick had terrified her. It really did mean that at her root she was already damaged goods.
Damned and all.
She placed a hand over her bruised ribs and started down the hallway. She knew just from overhearing Mick talk to some of his boys that just about every detail of every transaction they made was kept in Jameson's office.
"Which is right here," she mumbled to herself as she pushed a door open. She questioned the wisdom of entering a room blind but sighed in relief when she saw that it was empty. "So far so good."
She walked over to the large wood desk and used her strength to rip open the top drawer. She cocked her head to the side as she glanced at the papers there. They didn't say much. Or maybe just not anything that she could quite understand.
"Wait, wait, wait," she muttered, picking up one of the sheets. It looked like an invoice for parts. Transistors or something like that. "Why am I not buying?"
She turned the paper over in her hands and then laughed. "Tonight then." She glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that it was just before four in the morning. The delivery was due into the New Gotham Harbor at about fifteen minutes until five.
She rubbed her hands together, a glint overtaking her eyes. In the back of her mind a voice began to scream at her, begging her to stop and think.
That time had passed.
She touched her ribs gently, feeling the pain sear up through her.
He'd made a big mistake.
A very big mistake.
And the line between good and evil no longer existed in her mind.
Showtime.
TBC...