The Start of an Empire (from A List of Things Jeremiah Wished Had Happened)

Jim's P.O.V.

The officers who were still in the city were not expecting to see Jeremiah Valeska in the prison cell that his brother had just so recently occupied when they walked into the department that morning.

They were, however, expecting to see their captain in his office as usual. And that's exactly where he was. James Gordon was nothing if not dependable. As they made their way into work, he left his office to stand on the balcony, overlooking his officers. He wanted to reassure them, to give them hope as they balanced on the pain and grief brought about by the previous night. The last person to show was Harvey Bullock, staggering slightly after what was presumably a drunken evening for him. That made seventy-four. Seventy-four out of over eight hundred uniformed officers.

"I know we're all missing someone today," he began. "And I know how much effort and motivation it took you all to come here this morning. Because this precinct is all you have left. I know. Last night, families, friends, and countless innocent people were ripped away from you. From us. And there is nothing I can say to lessen that body count. Nothing that will make it hurt less or make the next day, week, month, and year go by easier. So yes, you can grieve. But the truth is, it won't change anything. Gotham needs every single one of you now more than ever. They needed us last night, and despite all the damage that's been done, we did what we set out to do. Every effort you made to get another person across one of those bridges inevitably saved lives. Yes, thousands of people died when the bridges went down and we can't change that. But, over three million made it out. An impossibly large amount, and yet you made it happen. Because you care about this city more than anything. No one would have predicted that level of success. Gotham is your home, our home. And today, we continue to defend it as we have always done. You are the reason it still stands. And the entire city is depending on you to continue to uphold it until it can once again hold itself. So get out onto the streets and do what you all do best. Protect the people of Gotham."

One by one, the officers began to clap. Jim saw tears being brushed from eyes as they took their seats or rushed to get files from forensics. Nobody spared a second glance to the reason for all of their pain caged in the center of the room. Not one of them wanted to look him in the eyes. He didn't blame them.

When he got back into his office, he found Harvey sitting in his chair, drinking from a flask. "Hell of a speech," he said, as he took another swig. "There's a reason why you're captain. Always know what to say to boost their spirits."

"C'mon Harvey, it's early, even for you." He reached across the desk for his partner's flask, yanking it away from him.

"Jim, nothing is too early today. Give it back."

"No. We have an interrogation to do, and the last thing I need is you more drunk than usual."

"Don't tell me we're interrogating that painted freak downstairs."

"Do you think I put him in that cell for decoration? Yes, we're interrogating him. And I think that's actually his skin, as unfortunate as it looks. I'll give you an hour to drink some coffee and sober up a bit before we take him down the hall."

Harvey looked at him for a minute and then sighed heavily. "I hate you."

"And yet you've stuck with me all this time. I'll take it as a compliment." Jim stood and walked over to the shelf on the left side of the room, where he poured Harvey a cup of coffee. He handed it to the detective and sat down across from him, flicking through files to pass the hour away.

…

An hour later, Jim, along with a much more alert-looking Harvey, made their way downstairs to the cells.

Jeremiah was sitting in exactly the same position he'd been in an hour ago, which is the same position he'd been in all night. His back was ruler-straight and his legs were crossed, along with his wrists. His head was tilted slightly to the right while a pair of cuffs chained his ankles together. He looked bored. The only thing that changed was the movement of his eyes as they followed Jim. It was at that moment that the police captain decided Jeremiah was much more unsettling than his brother. Sure, Jerome had been uncharacteristically calm while he'd been here, but it had been nowhere near as disturbing as this.

"You've gotta be gettin' kinda stiff, pal," Harvey commented as he unlocked the cell door and stepped inside.

"On the contrary, my dear detective, correct posture is extremely comfortable once you adjust your body to it. I learned this very quickly upon attending St. Ignatius. I assume you're taking me to the interrogation room now?"

"No, we're takin' you to get a puppy." Detective Bullock smiled sarcastically and latched a pair of handcuffs around Jeremiah's wrists.

"That's a shame. I believe I might be slightly allergic to dogs," Jeremiah said lazily, holding out his wrists to make the handcuffing easier.

"Jim, you should go fill the interrogation room with our K-9 squad."

"Very funny, Harvey. Let's go." He led the way through the back hallway and into the farthest interrogation room. Every cop lowered their eyes as Jeremiah passed.

They sat him in the metal chair and readjusted his restraints to hold him to the floor and table.

"You didn't expect us to catch you," he stated.

"No. I anticipated your death and assumed no one else would be foolish enough to come after me."

"You believed your plan to explode me along with your bunker was foolproof?"

"I'd forgotten about the panic button on the underside of the desk. Which I know you used as there's no other way to escape from that room. I installed it as a security measure for myself and Ecco. At the time, I hadn't imagined anyone else ever entering the building."

"Where is Ecco?"

"My brother shot her in the foot. I have no idea where she might have gone. Hopefully, to Gotham General. If not, then she's in the streets somewhere. She's capable of taking care of herself, however, so I'm not extremely concerned."

This surprised Jim. "When did you see Jerome?"

Jeremiah smiled as if he knew something that Jim didn't. "We had an encounter shortly before you arrested me."

"And what did that encounter entail?"

"Let's just say we played a little game last night. Unfortunately, he won. That's why you were able to capture me so easily. I hadn't planned to be in that location for so long. So really, you can go ahead and thank Jerome for your brilliant arrest of me. I know how much it would hurt your ego."

"I'll send him a card. What sort of game was this?"

"James, if I wanted to explain the rules to you, I would've done it already. It's not pertinent to the rest of the evening."

He was frustrating him. "It's not up to you to decide what's important to this investigation and what's not." He heard cracking knuckles coming from Harvey who was standing behind him.

"How about you and I play a different game, Jeremiah? But my fist and I get to make up the rules to this one. Sound fun?" Harvey had stepped closer to the table and planted his hands on it, leaning down to stare at Jeremiah menacingly.

"A charming effort, detective, but even I don't scare that easily."

Jim was becoming more angry with every word the stuck-up little brat spoke. "I want a detailed explanation of everything that happened last night. Do you understand?"

"I'd be happy to give you one, detective. But, I have some demands first."

He looked at Jeremiah incredulously. "You're in no position to make demands."

"I have a man holding a knife to Lee Thompkins throat in the Narrows. Would you like to hear what they are?"

Jim's jaw dropped. "He's faking it," Harvey said confidently.

"Bring me Bruce Wayne. And a cup of coffee. Black. Two sugars. Or I have your ex-fiance's pretty little neck slit."

"Why does everybody in this goddamn city want to talk to Bruce Wayne when they get dragged in here?" Harvey yelled in frustration.

But Jim was beyond words. He swung his fist at Jeremiah, which connected satisfyingly with his jaw.

"Bruce Wayne," Jeremiah managed to say through the blood bubbling around his lips. Jim swung again and hit him in the eye. The area began to bruise immediately, a vivid purple against his white skin.

"You will never speak to Bruce Wayne," he snarled, aiming to punch him again. He was stopped, however, by Harvey pulling his arm back.

"Jim, that's enough. I'm all for beating the shit out of the suspects as much as the next guy, but what if he really does have Lee? Do you want to risk that much on a conversation with a teenager?" Jeremiah was somehow continuing to hold maddeningly still, his purple suit barely wrinkled, although his rapidly coloring face told a different story.

He lowered his fist. "If I let you talk to Bruce, I get to call Lee first. Do we have a deal?"

"Certainly, detective. That's all I wanted. As well as that cup of coffee."

Once a black mug had been handed to Jeremiah, Jim stepped out into the hall to make his phone call. It rang twice, and then an amazingly familiar voice picked up. "Jim, thank god! There was a man here who claimed to work for Jeremiah Valeska. I tried to fight him off but he held a knife to my throat. He told me that unless you made a deal with his boss, he'd kill me. What the hell did you do this time?"

"I'm sorry, Lee. I don't know how you're still getting dragged into this. Jeremiah wanted to speak to Bruce Wayne, and held your life hostage to get me to agree. I didn't think I'd still be endangering you."

She sounded as though it didn't bother her. "Wow, he must have really wanted to talk to Bruce. And it's okay, he's gone now. If Jeremiah's in custody, though, how are they communicating?"

"He must have bugged himself before being arrested by me. However surprised he seemed by it, he's a careful man. He would have anticipated a need to reach his followers from confinement. I'll have someone search him more thoroughly. I'm just glad you're safe." He added hesitantly, "I miss you, Lee."

"I have a life of my own now, Jim. You need to let me go."

"What if I can't?"

"Then that's something you need to work on by yourself, because I can't do it for you, however much I might miss you sometimes, too. Thanks for checking up on me. Goodbye, Jim." She hung up without waiting for a response. After taking a minute to breathe, he returned to the interrogation room.

"I take it all is well with Dr. Thompkins?" Jeremiah asked, setting his mug down on the table. Harvey was no longer in the room.

"Yes."

"So, when do I get to see Bruce?"

Jim sighed. "Him and I have a meeting this afternoon. You can speak to him then, very briefly."

"That's enough, for now. It's been a long few hours without him."

He gave Jeremiah a look of surprise. "You saw him last night as well?"

The pale man just smiled that obnoxious knowing-smile and said "He played our game as well. Or rather, him and Jerome were on a team. As I stated earlier, they won."

"I have a feeling there's much more to the story than you're letting on."

"And I'll tell you the entire thing. After I speak to Bruce."

"You know, you and Jerome are both strangely obsessed with him. It seems to be the one thing you two have in common. Besides the identical appearance, I mean."

"He's a fascinating man, detective. You of all people should see that. After all, you're the second most trusted person to him, only after his butler."

This was a fact Jim had been unaware of, but he decided not to show it. "And what, exactly, is so fascinating?"

Jeremiah smiled as he was given an invitation to talk about his best friend. "His endless compassion. Modesty. The desire for objective justice. All things any other person in his position would be lacking."

He supposed the psychopath had a point. He wasn't about to tell him that, though. "You can gush all about him to the wall. I have work to do. You're going to stay here until Bruce arrives."

"It would be my pleasure," Jeremiah said with pleasant sarcasm.

"Good, enjoy the rest of your morning. An officer will come by to remove the tap we know you have on you. I'll see you later this afternoon." And with that, the police captain left the room, locking the metal door behind him. He just prayed that with six people on surveillance and the boy's restraints, that mad genius wouldn't find a way to escape.