Gotham's Discontent

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Wide Window

"You know what I can't get over, Deedee?" said Jerome into the crook of his sister's neck, surprising her with a soft bite along her jugular. "The fact that Galavan gave you…a room…with a wide window."

He suddenly pulled away from her, leaving her jarred and confused as he strode across the room and gesticulated animatedly at the vast view of the city in her bedroom: "I mean, look at that. Oh, there's Arkham. Ooh, there's the GCPD." He turned around, gestured for her to come stand beside him. As she did, he said, "Galavan gave you a room with the largest window to the city. Kind of almost defeats the point of him trying to keep you and his new guests a secret, doesn't it? If someone looked up at the right angle—well, maybe the wrong angle—we'd be caught."

"Regardless, I tried to climb out that window."

"Tried?" Jerome said.

"Tabitha stopped me," said Deedee.

Jerome motioned for Deedee to lean forward; curious as to what he was going to do, Deedee did so. Jerome grabbed her by the arm and turned her toward the window, pressing her against it not enough to break the weight of the glass; but hard enough that she couldn't move away. Deedee grinned to herself as Jerome pressed up against her,

"You always smell like aftermath of fireworks," said Jerome pleasantly, inhaling deeply, his nose brushing up against the nape of her neck, and his voice lulling a familiar ache between Deedee's legs.

He evoked a small squeal from her as he wrapped a hand around her waist, slipping his hand inside her red shorts and in her panties to cup her between her legs—she squirmed in his grasp, but Jerome dipped a finger between her folds, stroking her gently: "Even better, I like the way you taste."

Deedee bit her lip as he withdrew his hand as quickly as he had applied it, and the growing ache in her core began to throb as he slipped his finger inside his mouth, tasting her.

All in the view of the wide window.

The thrill of being caught. The thrill of being seen by anyone whom would look up and realize exactly what they were seeing. Jerome peered over Deedee's shoulder, catching a glimpse of the looming height from the window to the street—at the very least, the room had to be 20 stories up. A penthouse suit on the tippy top of an elegant skyscraper—

Deedee turned her head slightly, curious as to why his ministrations gave pause, and she noticed his long gaze.

"What, Brother?" she asked, annoyed.

He had the attention span of a teaspoon. Was he going to fuck her or not?

Jerome made a small laugh, and he looked at her.

"Deedee, exactly how were you going to get down?" he said incredulously.

"You really want to ask about that now?" she returned, turning in his grasp around her waist. "You want to talk logistics?"

"If you climbed out the window," he repeated. "How were you going to get down?"

Deedee, put-out and irritable, shoved him in the shoulder; disheveled by his sudden disinterest, she pushed past him, headed for the bedroom dresser where—to Jerome's interested surprise—she pulled a bottle of booze out from her underwear drawer. Deedee gave a silent shrug, opened it and gave a quick drink before crossing her arms, her fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle,

"Jerome, it might surprise you; but you aren't the only one who picked up a few things while we were locked away in Haley's Circus. A bit close-minded of you, actually. I'm surprised," she added with a jilted shrug of her shoulder.

Jerome gave her a knowing look. She was trying to provoke him, but he didn't take the bait.

"How were you going to get down?" he asked, glancing down through the window at the lengthy drop to the street. "Were you going to shimmy down the drain pipe?"

"I would have tried scaling the window sills." Deedee said casually. "I learned a few acrobatic tricks while you and I were still in Haley's Circus."

Jerome raised an eyebrow.

"Alphonse Grayson." Deedee specified with a slight roll of her eyes, to which Jerome stepped forward,

"So, while our mother was fucking the clown, you were taking tips from the acrobat?"

Deedee shook her head, "Obviously this was before Mom started sleeping with the two of them. But I couldn't get the hang of any of the routines that Grayson showed me. It's much easier to move without shoes. So," she continued to speak to a speechless Jerome, "I was going to scale the window sills, bare foot."

It might have been due to the fact that Alphonse Grayson and Owen Lloyd had been their mother's suitors; or perhaps the idea of the eldest Grayson putting his hands on his sister crept up into the back of his brain like a parasite. Jerome's mouth twitched into a small smile that didn't meet his eyes, and he half-turned, pointing out the window,

"Show me."

Deedee snorted. "What?"

Jerome unlocked and pushed open the wide window daringly, and he indicated it with an open hand. Deedee stared at him.

"Show me how you were going to climb out the window, courtesy of your pal, Alphonse Grayson." Jerome said.

The slighted bitterness in his voice didn't go unnoticed, but Deedee unfolded her arms and placed the bottle on the dresser, gesturing with a finger to the window skeptically. "Just so we understand each other, Brother," she said. "You want me to climb out the window to prove to you that #1, I actually did learn a few things from Grayson and #2, that I could actually scale the window sills. Right?"

"It would amuse me." Jerome said.

"It has nothing to do with jealousy, huh?" said Deedee.

"I'm not jealous." Jerome said.

"No?" Deedee asserted, smiling widely. "Well, I'm not going to step outside of this building just to show you that I can get down from here, courtesy of Alphonse Grayson. Galavan was quite clear about leaving the penthouse suite. But what's piqued my interest is that smoldering expression on your face."

She sauntered to his side of the bedroom, precociously coy, "Does the idea of Grayson teaching me acrobatics make the hairs on your neck stand on end, Brother?"

Jerome frowned.

"Is it because he was banging our mother or because it's the idea of him positioning my body the way he—"

"That's hitting it a little below the belt, don't you think?" Jerome said disapprovingly, cutting her off as if the rest of the sentence would make him crawl out of his skin. And it would have.

Although she could sense that the conversation had taken a turn from when they had first stepped into the bedroom, Deedee felt the familiar sense of home, of one of them trying to get a rise out of the other on the cusp of becoming absolutely feral.

Not jealous, he had said. Deedee had seen him disprove that statement time and time again. And she smiled, having been given exactly what she wanted, to see the tightness in his neck at the thought of another man touching her; the clench of his jaw as Deedee had pushed that same idea in his mind.

He might have looked as if he wanted to push her out the window to see exactly what Alphonse Grayson had been teaching her while he had been attending Sheba as Lila's snake keeper, but Jerome was reminded of the first time that he had given into the first sinful thoughts about his sister…When he had noticed the looks of the other men coveting her from their front row seats—

Deedee's mouth pursed in a taunting smile and stepped in front of him.

"What's wrong, Brother?" she hissed at him, her tongue licking the corner of her mouth. "Gonna put me in my place?"

Jerome seized her throat—Deedee's fingers tightened around his wrist—as he emitted a sinister chuckle, angling her back toward the wide window, threatening to dangle her over the street. Deedee's eyes widened, and she admitted to herself that she might have pushed a little too hard; Jerome grinned widely.

"Listen, little brother," Deedee began tightly, though a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, "You gonna drop me out of 20-story window?"

"I know that you're trying to get a rise out of me, Sister," said Jerome calmly, stepping forward, stepping her back toward the edge of the room; she could feel the breeze on her back. "And let's face it, you're really the only one who can scratch that itch."

"This is about Alphonse Grayson?" Deedee asked curiously, though her stomach turned as she glanced to her left, seeing the traffic honk and scream several stories down, and the idea of him dropping her out of the window seemed very real. "I was only teasing—It really was just a bit of gymnastics, to improve my dancing, you know—"

Jerome held her neck tightly, "This isn't about Mom's fuck buddy, Deedee."

"Then what?"

Jerome pulled her back inside the room, shutting the wide window with one hand while still holding a tight grip on his sister's throat. Although he looked quite mad, Deedee noted a flicker of hurt. He pushed her away. Deedee stared at him, and then it clicked.

"You are angry, but not about Grayson." Deedee gestured to the entire room flippantly. "So, are we finally gonna talk about our situation, Brother?"

Jerome frowned, "No time like the present."

"So, it did bother you the way I left Arkham." Deedee said, mildly irritated. "Why don't men just say that they're angry? Galavan didn't admit he was furious when I visited Daddy; and you acted like that it was fine and dandy when you showed up here and realized that I was okay. Why all the aloofness?"

Right into it.

"You just left without a goodbye. Doesn't that sound familiar, Deedee? Now, who do we know that left"—Jerome snapped his fingers— "just like that."

"I told you that Strange and Galavan had arranged it where I had to leave like"—Deedee mocked him—"like that."

"What did Strange threaten you with if you had stopped by the community room, if you said goodbye, Deedee?"

"He didn't say anything, it was implied."

Jerome shook his head, "I'd have never left you in a place like Arkham; I'd have taken you with me if there was a chance to get out—"

"—I didn't know there had been a chance to get out until it was presented to me; I didn't want to end up where all the patients go when they go missing; and Strange made it clear that he had no desire to keep me there because I'm not his brand of psychopathy—" Deedee took a step forward, to step to him; however, Jerome's expression hardened and she recoiled.

Jerome held a finger to his sister's face, muting her.

"If I hadn't been at my little window, I'd have never seen you walk through those Arkham gates. I'd have ever known what happened to you until I saw you on TV. You know what that would have looked like to me? Perception is everything, Deedee." Jerome said, sinisterly calm. "It has always been you and me, Sister. Now, I applaud you for all the hell-raising you've done since you've been out of the funny farm; truly, I'm impressed. But you'll excuse me that I'm a bit hurt that my big sis didn't say goodbye except for a little tight wave, holding her certificate of sanity."

Deedee took a breath in, and she knew he was right to feel that anger; but he had to have known…

"I wanted to," said Deedee quietly. "But Strange told me not to. And when I got here, Galavan told me not to. They kept us apart, Brother."

Jerome stared at her for a long moment, and then gave a small, concerning nod. She was right too.

"They did," said Jerome. "It isn't the first time someone has done that for leverage against us; and you should know by now that I'd have found a way. Whether it was our mother or one of her buddies—Laura, or Strange, even Galavan. But you left like Jeremiah, in the middle of the night—"

"I didn't conspire like Jeremiah did, with our mother and uncle to leave in the middle of the night," said Deedee firmly. "I didn't ask to be removed from Arkham. I was hurt by Jeremiah too. We both were."

"You were hurt that he left," corrected Jerome, poking her in the shoulder, and his angered expression absolved. "I was more or less hurt because our brother poisoned Mom and everyone else against me. Making up those cute little stories—"

"You know that it would have happened sooner or later," muttered Deedee with a small smile. "Those 'cute little stories'."

"Guess we'd never know." Jerome said.

Deedee grinned suddenly.

"What?" he said.

"You missed me in Arkham, Brother?" she said.

Jerome uttered a low growl, snagged a hand around her neck with a tight grip—she gave an excited squeal which squelched as he latched his lips onto hers, pulling her into a rough kiss.

"If not for all the right reasons," he said, pushing her onto the bed, climbing on top of her.