Disclaimer: I don't own Batman, okay? And I'm sure as heck not making any money with this fiction.
Molly struggled in her bonds, so intent on her actions that she didn't notice Anton had turned around again and was watching her carefully. She jumped when he walked over to her quickly, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Stop that! I am sorry you are uncomfortable, Miss Weil, but you must cooperate. Vodyanoy is not a man you want to cross." He stopped talking and offered an apologetic smile. "Now let me see your face. Come on. I just want to help." He lifted a cotton round to her face and daubed slowly at the cuts and bruises she had sustained from her earlier interrogation.
Molly winced at the antiseptic and tried to jerk her jaw out of his hands, but he caught her face firmly. "If you really wanted to help me you would let me go," she hissed at him.
Anton frowned and backed away to get another tube of something for her wounds. "You know I cannot do that," he murmured. "Don't bother asking."
"You saw what he did to me! And I don't know anything!" she yelled at him.
"Please, be quiet!" he whispered hoarsely at her. "If anyone hears us…if anyone thinks that I could be swayed by you they would have no reason to trust me." He walked back to her and knelt down. "I want to help you, but you have to cooperate…for now. Please."
Molly looked at him for a long moment and then glanced away, her body stiff and eyes stony. "I don't want your help, Doctor," she said bitterly and Anton stood up again.
"You will before he is through with you," he replied. He applied the rest of the salve to her wounds as swiftly as possible and then left just as quickly. Molly turned her head and watched the door swing shut after him. This time, however, the lock did not turn in its place and she stared at the door curiously. Maybe he was coming right back? But minutes passed and he did not reappear. Was this his idea of helping her? She couldn't even move and he'd left the door unlocked- she began to struggle against the rope that bound her once again and felt it slide off her arms and pool on the floor. Startled and confused, she stared down at her freed limbs. What was going on?
She tried to stand and fell to her knees, the wound in her side aching with the effort of picking herself up. She'd been strapped to the chair for hours now without food or uninterrupted rest, though Anton had given her water and some kind of saline solution at some point. She took a moment on the floor to gather her thoughts. She was stronger than this; she had to be. It was possible Tony was in the same building somewhere and she still needed to try and get herself to safety. Cautiously she felt at the bandage on her side and winced. So, Anton had removed the bullet and stitched her up. It still ached terribly and she couldn't tell whether it was still bleeding or not, but she didn't have time for dawdling. She had to take advantage of the risk the doctor had taken.
After several deep breaths, Molly levered herself to her feet and crept along the floor to the door, knees bent and hands up. As she paused at the door to listen she looked over at the table and saw a scalpel and some syringes. Without another thought she picked them up and stuck the capped syringes in her pocket. Then, scalpel held before her, she opened the door slowly and snuck out into the hallway.
Bruce knocked on the doorframe of Madge's room and the elderly woman turned her head to smile at her visitor.
"Why, Mr. Wayne! What a pleasure to see you!"
Bruce didn't question her good spirits; the nurse had already told him that she'd kept the information on the previous evening's shooting and abduction from the old woman. According to her, her charge didn't need any extra stress in her life right now. So, as much as it pained him to keep such vital information from Molly's grandmother, he would keep quiet for the sake of her health. After all, Molly wouldn't thank him for giving her grandmother a stroke or heart attack.
"Hello, Mrs. Myers. I just thought I would stop and see if I could scare some more information out of you about Molly."
Madge snorted and reached for her television remote, turning off the daytime soaps she'd been catching. "Good luck with that, Mr. Wayne. I know what you're really after."
"What's that?" he asked, raising his eyebrows as he took a seat by her bed. She looked him over carefully before nodding to the darkened television.
"I know full well what's going on out there. That woman doesn't fool me one bit. You want to know if I can help you find my grand daughter."
Bruce was genuinely surprised this time, but he was careful not to show it. "And can you?"
Madge's eyes dimmed and she looked down at her hands: twisted and weak on the bedspread. "I don't know. Maybe if you ask the right questions I'll say something that will help, but I don't know the details of any of these gangs or the things that Salome's dealt with in the last several years." She looked up at him, her eyes fierce again. "I'll at least try to help. I want you to get my Salome back safe and sound. What's left of this family needs her and her students need her."
"The police are doing all they can," Bruce said softly.
"And you? What are you doing, Mr. Wayne?" Madge replied, her eyes wise and worldly. Bruce stared back at her for a long moment before he looked away. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat.
"I have certain resources at hand," he admitted. "But right now, they include you. So tell me, please, whatever you know about the situation with the gangs."
She nodded at his words, seemingly satisfied, and replied. "I know she tried to take them down, that our lives were threatened. But we never heard anything else after Dent's death. It nearly killed Molly to give up that case, but she had to. We wouldn't have survived it. She wouldn't have survived. They were really gunning for her."
"Was the gang she was going after at all affiliated with Russians at the time?"
At that, Madge sat up straighter, inducing a coughing fit. Bruce stood up and helped her ease back against her pillows, rubbing a hand along her back and lifting a glass of water to her lips. Madge finally waved him off irritably and frowned. Bruce sat back down, though he leaned towards her expectantly.
"Russians," she whispered. "Are you sure? I mean, there are Russians involved now?"
Bruce nodded. "Positive. Molly heard their accents and some of the language the night the other teacher was shot and Commissioner Gordon has brought it to my attention that there may be some independent mobsters operating out of Gotham. Do you know any Russians at work in Gotham?"
Madge closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "No, not currently. At least, I sincerely hope not." She opened her eyes again and looked at Bruce. "A long time ago, Salome's mother dated a Russian. It was right after their father had left and she was desperate for a man to rescue them. He was very rich, well established…in a seedy way, if you know what I mean."
"What happened with him? Did he have bad connections?"
"Did he…yes, you might say that. Money and nice gifts appeared out of nowhere, he never told us where he worked. Just that he 'had a business.' Now that I think about it, it's perfectly possible that he was with the Russian mob and we never realized. My daughter was never very quick on the uptake," Madge murmured, her face sad.
"So did he leave? Is Salome still in touch with him?"
Madge frowned again. "I dare say she is not," she growled. "The son of a bitch. I should have made Kathy report him at the time, but she thought it would be best for Salome if we didn't say anything. So he might still be out there, is that what you think?" She turned accusing eyes on Bruce and it was his turn to frown.
"What do you mean? Was there trouble with him? Did he threaten the family? Did he abuse your daughter?"
"No, he had…Mr. Wayne, I don't know if I should even be telling you this…"
"Mrs. Myers, your grand daughter is out there somewhere and this man may be a connection between this gang and the mob. We need to know what you do. Please, tell me. For Molly's sake."
Madge looked at him sadly and shook her head. "Alright. You're right, of course." She paused and took a few deep breaths before she began talking. "The man…I don't even remember his name. He had some sort of nickname; it was the only thing I ever heard Kathy call him. She really didn't date him very long. What was it…Vodyanosh, I think. I can't be sure after all this time. We haven't spoken his name in this house for a long time, Mr. Wayne," she apologized. Bruce made a dismissive gesture and tried to smile reassuringly, despite the terrible feeling brewing in his stomach.
So…Vodyanosh. That was a diminutive form of Vodyanoy, wasn't it? That made the odds that it was the same man operating the renegade syndicate as had known Molly all those years ago very, very good. Or very bad, depending on how you looked at it. Bruce mulled this over briefly while Madge continued to speak.
"He seemed fond of her girls, too, which was part of why they moved so quickly. If they went to an opera together- always some Russian story- he would often suggest the girls go with them. Ruth was a little too young at the time, so she stayed with me, usually, but Salome would end up going places with them. Sometimes she stayed the night with her mother and that man, too. I didn't think much of it- who would, really? I was happy that Kathy was happy, even if I didn't really like the man…but then Salome started to have nightmares when she stayed over with me. And then I caught her in a closet one night with a pair of sheers." Madge choked on a memory and her eyes filled with tears of long buried sorrow and anger. She turned to Bruce.
"She had the most beautiful, pale blond hair when she was a baby. It was shining and practically white. A true tow-head. Her mother was so proud of her hair; they made sure to grow it out nice and long. All the other mothers were so jealous when she went out with that little girl and Salome was as proud as punch of it, herself…and then I found her hacking it off in the dark one night and I knew. I just knew something had…well. She wouldn't tell me about it. She refused to talk to me until she'd seen her mother. Kathy was beside herself. She blamed herself completely." Madge picked at her bedspread helplessly. "I never asked Salome about it ever again and it was the last we saw of him. Kathy never quite recovered from the guilt, I'm afraid. I lost two of my baby girls that year, really. One to death and the other to the world. Salome was never quite the same after that. Still the kindest woman, generous- but hard."
Bruce's face had set into an impenetrable mask as she spoke. He wasn't sure what he would do if he let himself feel beyond the need to find Molly just then. Tonight, though, there would be a bloodbath. For all his high-minded ideas of what separated himself from the men he put behind bars, he knew that if he came face to face with this man, this Vodyanoy, that one of them would walk away from the encounter dead.
AN: Sorry this is so short, comparatively. I've had it sitting around a few days and just couldn't bring myself to write anymore under this chapter, so it's standing alone. More story soon, though!
