(A/N: Wow, all of my reviewers are wonderful! I don't know what I would do without you all; you are infinitely encouraging. Please accept my wholehearted thanks for your kind comments. I hope I don't disappoint! This is also the last chapter in Gordon's POV. Enjoy!)
Disclaimer: Nothing of Batman or the Joker belongs to me, though that would be nice…
--
He could not take his eyes off of her.
As if in a dream, he had grasped the hand she politely offered, gaze fixated on the civil grin rendered absolutely terrifying by the ropey cords scaling her otherwise smooth cheeks like pale creepers. Some distant voice in the back of his mind reprimanded him for such discourtesy, but God help him, it was almost surreal seeing that smile on another living human being. The malice and insanity of the Joker were absent, of course, but the Glasgow smile Gordon was used to seeing masked in smeared crimson paint struck fear into his heart all the same.
Blessedly, she wasn't wearing lipstick.
The seconds stretched on and he had not released her hand, a fact registering as a slight twitch of genuine amusement in her perfunctory smile. Light green eyes falling pointedly to their hands, she remained silent as he hastily let go, walking quickly to the opposite side of the scorched desk. Pulling back the mismatched chair, he felt his age as he lowered himself into it, embarrassment written plainly upon his features.
She leaned forward slightly, her voice laced with an amused tone that did not quite reach her eyes.
"You're not the first, Commissioner." Raising a hand, she waved away any notion of resentment in that casual manner of routine, as if this sort of situation happened to her on a daily basis.
His eyes taking in the countless silver streaks along her features, Gordon realized that it probably did. The smile, it seemed, was not the only symbol his guest was forced to bear. Clearing his throat, he tried to ignore the harsh web of pain slowly becoming visible to his eyes, more of the jagged off-white marks coming out of the woodwork with each moment of inspection.
"Did he do that to you?"
"No."
Gordon released the breath he hadn't known he was holding. That fear had wended its way through the channels of his heart from the moment he glimpsed the extent of her injuries.
She seemed unfazed by his relief, her words more an afterthought than actual revelation. "If you go back far enough, you might say they were my own fault."
His compassion bubbling to the surface, he appraised her as he might a niece or the daughter of a close friend. He had seen enough young women end up in the wrong situations in this city, and the usual consequences were often much worse than a scar. "So he had nothing to do with it...?"
Tilting her head to the side, she appraised him shrewdly, thin lips tightening in concentration. "Commissioner, there is no reason to keep referring to him so generally. He is what he is now, and that is the Joker. You aren't about to offend me."
He could feel her eyes searching his face for some sort of a reaction, but kept it judiciously neutral. One phrase in particular had intrigued him; with any luck she would elaborate. As it was, she sighed and relaxed into her chair, scars puckering oddly as she gave him a somber half-smile.
"But no, Commissioner, he had nothing to do with these." One hand casually gestured to her burden. "These…. pre-date his own. At least on the outside."
Now he was getting somewhere. Seeing that Burns had already guessed his intention, Gordon reached behind him, grabbing the bottle of sipping scotch Wortz had left for situations like these. This wasn't something they taught you in the academy, but nothing worked quite like a stiff glass of scotch to make a potential informant feel his most talkative. Not the best, but it would do.
"Before we start formal questioning, would you like some scotch, miss…?"
"Anna." Her eyes followed the bottle.
"Ah, Anna, pleased to make your acquaintance." He swirled the golden liquid gently. "Burns, fetch us some glasses, will you? We should make Anna feel at home."
Swiftly raising her hand in protest, she half-turned to the lieutenant, a hardness entering her previously relaxed features. "That really won't be necessary, Commissioner. But… I thank you for your hospitality all the same." She turned around only once Burns had returned to his seat at Gordon's nod, satisfied that no glass would be brought to her, no opportunity to partake in the alcohol she had so studiously trailed with her gaze.
There was a hunger there, one Gordon recognized very well.
He replaced the scotch on the shelf behind him, struggling to assemble some sort of commissioner detachment; he abandoned his pity at the door and critiqued her as a potential informant. The gentle angles of her face, leather coat concealing all traces of clothing, the slight curve to her nose no doubt the result of its fracturing on more than one occasion. Nothing very threatening in her demeanor or what he could guess was an average frame.
"So you were saying, Anna? You sound like you knew him before the rest of us."
"Knew him quite well, in fact."
The commissioner could sense a Comstock Lode's worth of information, if only he could penetrate her ambiguity. "Would you mind sharing some of your knowledge with us then? As I said before, anything would be appreciated."
She sighed once more, as if surprised he could not see the underlying problem with the situation. Returning her hands to her lap, she schooled her features into an expression of icy impartiality. "Commissioner, these are dangerous times… and you more than anyone would know how much. I returned to Gotham at the risk of my own safety, and I don't intend to brazenly risk it any further."
"Of course, you want protection. That can be provided; presuming you demonstrate what you know is of use. Our men –"
"– are useless. I watch the news, Commissioner." Her tone was terse, emerald eyes blazing with intensity and intelligence. Silent insinuations crept into his ears, eliciting a grimace of the highest caliber.
Catching his lieutenant's attention, he jerked his head, ignoring the other's stunned expression. Gordon had had a feeling that it might come to this, but he would under no circumstances discuss it within another's hearing. He trusted Burns, but he had been proven wrong before. Very, very wrong.
Heart jumping at the sound of the slamming door, he returned his gaze to the mystery woman, an odd silence existing between them. She had planned out this meeting rather carefully, he figured.
"If I am going to help you, I don't want the mob's cronies guarding my door at night. One," she held up a finger, "they're corrupt and likely to off me anyway. Two, they're too obvious. Three, you'll be left with a bloodbath on your hands when he finally does find me."
Mustering all the intimidation within his character, which to be fair was not much, he leaned across the desk. "Now miss, I don't know who you think you're dealing with here, but the Commissioner does not take orders from a civilian –"
"I'm no ordinary civilian, sir." Anna grinned, sending an involuntary spasm through the commissioner's heart. "Now the way I see it, I can't hide for long. I've been following this story rather closely, and it seems like no one can. Eventually, commissioner, he's going to find out that I'm in town. And, commissioner, he'll come after me. I'm a practical woman by nature, so I figured – why not use this to our advantage?"
Gordon could barely believe what he was hearing. Either the woman was insane or had one hell of a death-wish. "So what exactly are you suggesting?"
"I'm suggesting that we let him come after me, when we're ready, of course."
Definitely one hell of a death-wish.
"I'll leave the details up to you and your… friend," she added, "but I want to make it clear that I am willing to help you. Even if it comes to putting myself on the line."
Smoothing back his hair, the commissioner could only sigh gustily, wishing that he had never bothered getting out of bed that morning. Insane lunatics, close-call ferry fireworks, and now the decision to act on what was either the single greatest lead he had so far been given or the single worst possible mistake he could make. He probably should start with basics; no normal individual risked their own life in this town.
"Assuming that he would come after you, why would you give yourself up in the first place?"
Just when he thought he had her figured out - money, definitely for money his cop sense gibed - she threw him a curve ball once more. The restrained fury noticeably extinguished, her features softened, a thousand different emotions flitting behind her eyes like moths behind a lamp. Voice dropping half an octave, it no longer carried the rapier-like edge it had but a moment ago. "As I said, commissioner, I watch the news. I can't…" She trailed off, her gaze far away and inside herself. "I can't just sit back and… and watch the world burn, not like he can. I removed the linchpin."
"You don't fear death?"
"Of course I do. But I have time and hopefully a powerful friend on my side."
The question left his mouth before he could think. "Then are you doing this for us, Anna, or for you?"
Her eyes snapped upwards at the seemingly innocent question, some internal combustion within her soul stoking the fire in her eyes once more. Gone was the introspection he had fortunately glimpsed, the noble uncertainty replaced by the icy exterior that marked a woman of Gotham. Watching as the steel armor fell back into place, Gordon could only wonder what labyrinthine passages lie behind those eyes.
"That is a rather foolish question, commissioner – you should know the answer. He was mad before my leaving, only quietly so." Her voice was iron sheathed in velvet, its sharp edge slicing through the air with authority. She locked gazes with his, making Gordon wish he knew how to stare down a woman. "It wasn't any fault of mine."
Unable to take it, he cleared his throat and broke the connection, the hair at the back of his neck prickling at her words. Something in her voice encouraged him to trust her, some raw element of truth that all the iciness in the world could not obscure. Perhaps he had found his first ray of dawn after all, if she would cooperate. If only she would reveal the leverage she so dutifully danced around, dangling it before his eyes.
"Nothing you've said strikes me as very significant, Anna – if that is your real name, of course. I don't believe he would come after you."
"Want to bet?" She grinned, the scars stretching eerily from ear to ear. Leaning forward, she placed her hands on the desk in front of him.
"I'm his wife. Ex-wife."
--
I hope you all enjoyed that! It was definitely very fun to write – though sorry that this was in Gordon's POV again, I promise it ends now. I tried to put little indications of her character without coming out and saying her personality. The real story starts next chapter – it's in her POV as the situation unfolds and the mystery becomes apparent, because when you're dealing with the Joker (or his wife) nothing is as simple as it seems…. And who knows, maybe the Joker will be showing up? wink
Please review!