Soo, its been a couple of years since I've touched this, or any other fanfiction for that matter. The new/last season of Gotham has inspired me and I'm ready to be back at it, continuing with characters I love, and ready to expand this story. As always, I love your feedback. Thanks for reading.

Jim stood slowly as she approached the steps. He could tell she was inebriated, and was at

least a little embarrassed. Somehow her apologetic expression softened his irritation-while the

situation itself heightened his concern.

He cleared his throat. "Going right home?"

"I went past the bar and decided to go in to... quell my nerves. I'm sorry." Her speech was

slightly off, just enough that the effort to sound normal was noticeable.

"And then you would walk home alone, drunk?"

"I, well, I didn't think that through. But I wasn't alone, it turns out..." Her eyes were glassy.

His hands were folded in front of him. "Right. You were actually in worse shape than alone, and

you had no idea. I'm honestly surprised you're still of the living-"

She shifted uncomfortably, on the defensive but not knowing why. "What are you talking

about?" She swayed and he steadied her shoulders.

"Can we go in?", she asked. "Just come in."

It had been a long time since Jim was in her apartment. The stale smell and run down

appearance of the corridor and halls came back to him at once. Poorly lit, paint chipped,

stained-much like the majority of complexes in Gotham. In no sense fit for someone like Wren,

or any female that lived alone in this city for that matter.

She unlocked the door, taking an extra couple of seconds with the lock. Once they were inside,

and she closed the door behind them, he noticed the flimsy chain she latched that almost

anyone would be able to bypass with a couple of good, swift kicks.

Pulling out a chair from her small kitchen table for him, she said "I can make some coffee."

"It's midnight, Wren." His words came out harsher than he'd wanted. "Not that that really matters

in my line of business, but, no, no thanks. I'm fine." He paused for a minute. "Can we talk about

the man you were with, now? How did you end up walking home with him? "...how did he not

sound the alarms in your head?"

She mulled over his words, confused and buzzing, and took a seat. "He's a guy I ran into the

other night. He was at the bar, tonight, when I got there..,he's gotten me home safe each time.

He's pleasant, he's...his name is Victor, why...?"

Jim snorted. "I know his name. It's Zsasz, Victor Zsasz. He's a criminal. He's a murderer, Wren."

He wondered how much he should tell her. By the way she was looking at him, he thought that

might be enough.

She didn't say anything. He put his hands on the table, gesturing towards her. "You ignored

your phone. Probably for him, right? This isn't the time to be lax, Wren. You need to take care of

yourself, and you need to help me keep the promise I made to you the first time we met."

His words held weight, were sobering-somehow more so than the thought Victor was apparently

a killer. Those thoughts weren't fully connecting for her; they were like small fish battling a violent

river, getting knocked further down stream every time.

...

There is a crash in the water substantial enough to disturb a resting giant.

Alert but exhausted, he takes quick survey of the surrounding swamp while remaining still and

silent. All roots, vines, and earth-,he is naturally camouflaged. In the direction of the splash, he

sees two fleeing figures- shapes and swift movement that is visible but indistinguishable. As

they disappear into the forest, their thermal rays fade along with the crunch of hurried footsteps.

He moves quickly then, to the settling, floating object on the water. He knows its a body long

before reaching it; the faintest trace of heat remaining at its core, barely detectable and fading

still.

He wraps his moss-woven massive arms around the girl, turning her over, exposing her face

and freeing her features of matted water-logged hair. Scooping her up as if she is light as a

feather, he takes her to the other side of the swamp, His legs create large ripples in the

otherwise placid water.

He lays her down on top a bed of grass and leaves, wondering who she used to be, just as

the last ember of her life burns out.