"As flattered as I am by my inclusion on your talk show, I'm afraid I'm not at any liberty to discuss police activity, let alone these rumours of yours, Mr. Ryder."

"Isn't it time for the truth to come out, Jim?" Jack Ryder was a relentless man. James Gordon knew he would not stop until his subject buckled. Jack Ryder possessed all of the enthusiasm and vigour that he had as a young rookie, and sadly Gordon had been wrong when he thought that the years would blunt Ryder's tongue. "Don't you think you owe it to Gotham?"

The tape paused, lining the two men with white static. There was a knock on the office door. A slender, well-manicured hand placed the remote control onto a mahogany desk.

"Come in."

Nathalie Lezaro's burgeoning career in politics had shot up in the past few months, and such a flower blooming in adversity was a marvel to both her office and the Gotham public. She had a clipped, official tone; full of measured optimism that contained itself within each word. She had that special kind of youthful, intimidating beauty that would compel people to listen to her as soon as she began talking. Her voice was almost masculine in the way it filled any space: from her office to a large conference centre with barely any use for a microphone.

James Gordon swung the heavy oak door open and stepped neatly into the office. He took one look at the Mayor and realised he probably needed a shoeshine. She was immaculate in appearance; from her unblemished skin to her flatly ironed stone-grey blouse. Today, he had a head as thick as the wooden door that swung shut behind him, as a result of the numbers and statistics swirling around in his head. The most worrying statistic was the amount of hours' sleep he had enjoyed over the past week: it was a single-digit figure.

"Ah, Commissioner. It is good to see you this evening. Although it is a little late: aren't you on your way home?"

Gordon wasn't sure if he was being interrogated, or if his new boss was making small talk. "I won't be around much longer. I just wanted to deliver you a few things." He raised his arm and waved a bundle of papers in a manila folder. "I'm just the messenger."

Lezaro circled her desk quietly in her court heels, before sitting down in her armchair. Gordon walked closer to the desk, framed by bookshelves on either side. Lezaro's slight form was cast in shadow by the dominating window behind her. He was always warily watching that window, and he had never been sure whether its installation was a very good idea.

"I've just been watching you on our friend Mr Ryder's talk show," said Lezaro slowly. Gordon winced. He thought he had recognised the audio as he had been walking up to the office. He had heartily disagreed with the decision made by the young upstart that fronted Ms Lezaro's PR: talk shows were not a platform for politics.

"I am pleased with the way you handled the questions," Lezaro said, folding her slender fingers together. "Although I am not happy with the idea of sending a police commissioner into the world of light entertainment."

Gordon was a little surprised to find she agreed with him. Perhaps she was not as naïve as he had first thought. Meetings with her were always uncomfortable. After Professor Strange's public betrayal of Sharp's administration, wherein it transpired that he had manipulated a sick and vulnerable man, the Press had kick-started a campaign to report everything as quickly and candidly as possible. Gotham deserves the truth, they said. Gordon resented the implication that the Police Force were liars: certainly members of the Force were not as truthful as he would like, but like the solemn voice of a parent the GCPD had always told Gotham exactly what it needed to know. No more, no less. The campaign was, naturally, fronted by Jack Ryder, a man who was rapidly becoming a Messiah in the eyes of the people. From afar, Gordon pitied him: it was a wonderful and terrible title to hold.

"Thank you," he said respectfully to the Mayor. "I appreciate your honesty."

"As I appreciate yours." Lezaro did not seem to stop looking him straight in the eye. It was a very good political tactic: whether you were lying or telling an absolute truth, it could be used to intimidate your opponent into believing what you wanted them to.

"May I ask you a question regarding the state of our Arkham City, Commissioner?" She held her gaze.

Gordon looked straight back. Her gray eyes were shining with the light emanating from the television set. They looked like beads of glass, like the marbles he had played and bartered with as a young boy in the playground.

"Certainly, Ms Mayor."

Lezaro smiled warmly, a burst of exhalation escaping her nostrils. She collected herself and drew the chair back from the desk, placing her hands on the mahogany.

"I would like to ask you about the occupation of Arkham City."

It was all Gordon could do not to roll his eyes. This was ahead of schedule: she knew that it was too early expect such a report back just yet. There was no way that the Police could infiltrate a city still swarming with criminals without expecting a massacre.

"We are still combing the outskirts of the city," he intoned. "Although we know where Oswald Cobblepot is. He's hoping to open a new Iceberg Lounge."

"Can we cart him in for setting up a nightclub?" asked Lezaro, stroking the mahogany with her fingertips.

"We can bring him into remand for two counts of gun-running. He's been helping himself to munitions from the locker of the defunct GCPD building for the past few months. My best squad are hoping to move in on him as soon as they can infiltrate the city borders."

Lezaro's neat eyebrows had raised at the mention of the old Police headquarters. "And how did you come to know that Mr Cobblepot was stealing from the GCPD building? Is there any CCTV footage? Eyewitness reports?"

Gordon didn't think she would like what he was about to say. She was, as he had heard some of his colleagues say, 'from out of town', and it was always hard to explain this certain phenomenon to people who were not native to Gotham.

"There was a reliable witness. It was Batman."

Gordon watched the woman with interest as she sat back, her nails scraping the varnish. "You heard from the Batman?"

"Yes. I-"

"Commissioner," said Lezaro sharply, "I must insist on asking you a question that I don't think you will care for."

"Yes, Ms. Mayor." Gordon sucked in his dry bottom lip. His moustache tickled the patch of rough, unshaven skin above the cleft of his chin. He was tired and starving, and the two warring factors were making him impatient.

"Does the Batman ever partake in…Mayoral visits?"

Gordon wasn't expecting the question. He watched the Mayor for a sign that she, like many other women of Gotham, was infatuated with the symbolism of Batman. His heart dropped a little: he was hoping for a little professionalism instead of churlish infatuation. If women weren't swooning over Batman, they were following him into the line of duty, meddling in his business at great personal cost. He frowned. Barbara was probably still in her watchtower now, even as they spoke.

"I'm sure you think I'm a fool to concern myself with a reputedly dangerous vigilante, Commissioner, especially since a meeting with him is likely to place me in a vulnerable position."

"I had no such thought," lied Gordon. Lezaro's eyelids flickered, and then she took in a deep breath.

"I simply believe that Batman has been into the City in great depth. I was wondering if he would like to come and make an addendum or two to our little map."

She swept a drawer open with a flick of her nimble wrist, and pulled out a thin roll of paper fastened at each end by paperclips. She snapped the clips off of each end and with her small, delicate hands she stretched the paper out across the desk. It was a map of the city: in fact, it was the very same blueprint he had seen permanently stretched out across Sharp's desk while he had been in office. It now bore circles and marks all over it in Lezaro's handwriting.

"Do you think you could arrange a meeting for me?"

Internally, Gordon sighed. It was long past the end of his shift, and he aught to be on his way home to Sarah and his cooked dinner by now. She would start to worry. Every night she cooked dinner ready for half an hour after his shift, so he could come straight home and enjoy it when he arrived. By the time she had to consider re-heating it, she would start to worry. He knew she tried to hide her concern, but as a result of her nervousness her appetite died and she was slowly losing weight. His wife was a handsome woman, but that amount of weight loss didn't look well on a woman her age. Perhaps he aught to encourage Barbara to stay home more often, to support her mother.

"I believe I can contact the Batman regarding your wishes," he said, treading carefully around a direct agreement. "However I think you will find him a difficult target to pin down."

"Did he ever meet with my predecessor?"

Gordon let out a low, throaty laugh. Lezaro raised her eyebrows.

"I apologise, Ms Mayor. I believe Batman discovered Mr Sharp attempting to flee Arkham City on November fifteenth; and subjected him to a little interrogation." He smirked.

"Don't toy with me, Commissioner." Lezaro sounded sincere, but there was a smirk on her thin lips, mirroring his. "What do you mean by 'interrogation'? I'm assuming you don't mean the kind appropriated by your team, down at the station."

Gordon nearly laughed aloud. If she knew what the boys sometimes got up to in the interrogation rooms, she would fire every last one of them. He himself turned a blind eye to the beatings certain prisoners received as an induction: a lot of his squad had friends that had perished on Arkham Island. It's not that he believed knocking grunts around achieved much, but he needed to keep morale up somehow.

He looked at Lezaro. Sure, she was shaping up to be a slightly more level-headed boss than Sharp – she didn't sweat nearly half as much, he knew that for a fact – but if she wanted to play a game of twenty questions with an old cop, he figured he wouldn't need to hold back. "I believe he held Sharp over a fifty foot drop by his braces."

Lezaro looked shocked. "No! The man's sick!"

"With respect, are you referring to Batman or Sharp?" Gordon practically grinned.

"Commissioner," said Lezaro sternly, "If the Batman were to agree to meet with me, I trust that you will provide adequate protection."

"Of course." His moment of frivolity over, Gordon was back to business. His face set back into its mould of sternness, and his headache returned to dull fuzz somewhere deep in his eye sockets.

"Thank you, Commissioner." Lezaro stood up from her desk, and offered him her small hand. He took it in his and shook it, finding the skin ridged and cold. At least it was better than Sharp's clammy folds.

With one last sweeping glance out of the window at the sleeping heart of Gotham, Gordon turned away from the Mayor and her desk and laid his hand on the brass doorknob of the office.

"Pass my greetings on to your wife and daughter, Commissioner," said the Mayor as he left the room.

Gordon thanked her and left. That was a nice touch: Sharp never even acknowledged that Gordon was married. Jim raised his eyebrows. She had professionalism and a human touch, even if she was a little ambitious. Ambition could go a long way in a city like Gotham, as long as it was focused in the right direction. Perhaps she wasn't as useless as he thought she was, after all.

Quick AN: Thank you all for bearing with me - family matters have delayed the story a bit. Merry Christmas to all, and may you not be kicked in the face by the Goddamn Batman!