Thank you for reviews FuchsiaGrasshopper and Persephoniii :)

I have some Grady doodles if you want to check it out. Direct link is in my profile, it won't let me post it here.


Grady hadn't heard from Oswald in two days. There was nothing unusual about this in theory. Except for the Charlie situation. She knew he didn't trust her to take care of things and expected him to turn up or at least call. Maybe he didn't think she would make a mess of things after all, but after a day passed, she grew worried. Regardless of where he had disappeared to, there still remained the Charlie problem. "He has two weaknesses," Oswald had told her. "You and whatever he's hiding upstairs." She used the first weakness to install further security measures in the house, free from suspicion. It didn't take long to find out what Charlie had hidden upstairs. And then she had to act.

She hid in her shop that night to avoid answering to rumors that were sure to spread through the Burrow. Come morning, she'd have to do something. There was no point if they couldn't lay claim to what had happened. Where was Oswald? Grady was behind on commissions and spent several hours working with Fionn snoring at her feet. She tried not to thinking about losing two of the few people she had ever called a friend.

At a quarter to midnight Fionn leapt for the door, barking up a fierce storm and Grady breathed a sigh of relief. Fionn's barks turned to happy whines and when Grady followed him through the curtain, she found Oswald in one of the worst states she had seen him. His clothes were ripped and disheveled, he looked greasy and ill, and worst of all he had an angry purple welt circling his eye. Still, he seemed pleased to have Fionn slobber on him. "Hello old friend," he said and scratched him on the ears.

"Come on, back beast," Grady shooed the dog off and Oswald's smiled faded.

"Uh Grady, I apologize. Unforeseen circumstance came up and I - well, I wanted to make sure you were alright but I also thought it would be best not to go home," he babbled.

"Steady on," Grady waved him toward the curtain. "Did you think I'd be angry? What the hell happened?"

"Ah well... it's a little embarrassing," he mumbled.

Grady inhaled sharply as she examined his eye in the full light. "Were you knocked out? This is serious." With the lightest of touches, her fingers skimmed the bruise, mottled and red in places. "Does it still hurt?"

"My head's been ringing since it happened."

Grady rooted in her freezer for ice. "Who did it then? I'll do them one worse." She produced a bag of frozen mixed vegetables. "This is all I've got but it is icy..."

"I'm fine. I think the time has passed for ice."

"Have you seen that mess on your face? I will hold you down if you don't use it," Grady brandished the frozen food.

She looked very serious so he took the bag without further comment. "Gently now," Grady corrected. "You don't want any pressure on it." She didn't hold him down but she did support the ice as he explained how he had been suckered punched by a cop and held at the GCPD over night.

"Don Maroni says he's forgiven me, but he's watching me closely now. I didn't want to go home because mother will worry needlessly," he gestured at the eye. "And I didn't want to risk leading them to her... not to say I want to lead them here but..."

"Say no more," Grady shifted the thawing ice bag. "I'm not afraid of them. I can handle Maroni if he catches you coming round here. Come up with some excuse."

"You don't mind if I stay then?" Grady had given him access to the security on the front door, they had worked through the night at times, but it still felt strange to ask. He needed rest. And a wash. Needed to make himself at home in other words.

"Not sure if you've noticed, but you've practically lived here the past two weeks or so."

"Well I - I need to clean myself up. I'm not sure how you can stand to sit so close," he pawed at his ruined shirt.

"I hang around Fionn who smells like a dumpster. But you are a bit ripe. You've left some clothes I think. That day you were trying Burrow disguises..."

"Much appreciated," he said as Grady removed the ice.

She sighed. "I don't think I need to tell you that was a stupid thing to do. You're lucky Maroni didn't fire you or worse. And then where would we be?"

"But he didn't fire me. So I didn't overestimate my worth to him." It irked him when Grady told him off and even more so when she was right. Grady understood and made no further comment except to raise her eyebrows. Oswald went to wash away the grime and humiliation.

When he returned she insisted he eat something, but he needed little convincing.

"I've got tell you something," she said. "The Charlie situation is taken care of."

He nearly choked on his food. "He's dead?"

"Relax," she shook her head. "I was far more useful than you've been. No...he's not dead, he's in prison."

"I would have preferred if you had waited for me to help you...or at least told me your plans," Oswald had worried about Grady's role in this from the start. Now it was done and over without him being any the wiser.

"Now listen, I had to do something quickly," she said, catching his glare. "I would have preferred if you had told me about raising taxes so I could tell you it was a dumb move, but you didn't. You ended up in prison and I put the Burrow's most wanted behind bars. We'll be heroes tomorrow, you'll see. So don't grouch. It's your own fault."

"I had to know my limits with Maroni. Now I know." It was the best excuse he could come up with.

Grady didn't look convinced, but again, she let it drop. "You were right. I couldn't kill Charlie."
She rolled her eyes at his smug "I told you so" expression. "Oh, don't gloat. It's not attractive," she grumbled. "No, I couldn't kill him. But I found out what was upstairs. And I couldn't let him carry on after that."

"Go on," Oswald prompted. She certainly had his interest.


Grady never slept well. The clocks showed just after 3 when she woke with an idea. It was far from the first time she chose inspiration over sleep. She climbed out of bed and examined the collage of newspaper clippings and other facts that Oswald had helped to arrange. Several months ago, there had been a string of missing homeless on Gotham's west side. Children to be exact. The kidnappers were over the top and drew absurd attention to themselves and as a result, captured in due time. Missing persons in Gotham... it happened everyday. But when the numbers increased...

She grabbed stacks of newspapers and began marking the maps. Soon a pattern appeared. Red dots clustered like a spatter of blood.

"Not Charlie," she thought, shaking her head. But Grady knew math. Grady knew statistics. Grady knew patterns and structures. She took to the streets. And how she hoped she was wrong.

First she listened to a busker. Amazing the messages they could relay in their songs to those who knew how to listen. This song was a warning to anyone who lived on the streets. It led her to a particular tent city beneath a bridge. Hidden in a jumble of ratty clothes, she watched and listened. She even asked a few questions. It wasn't long before she learned everything she needed to know. It wasn't clear how Charlie was making his money before, criminals in Gotham had a colorful variety of options. But it was becoming apparent to her now. The one thing Grady would never do. She prepared her commission for Charlie, sick at heart because she had always thought he was better than her.


"You have changed Grady," Charlie leaned across his desk. She had been charmed by his smile last time, now he reminded her of an alligator. "I thought you hadn't...but you have."

"Things have happened," she shrugged. "A lot of things. You've changed more than I have."

She was ready to kill him then. Once she knew for certain what was in the room upstairs, there was no reason not to. It would only be fair. It wouldn't be too difficult. She could use poison. She could even give him another modified pistol. One that would tragically misfire.

"I have changed Grady," Charlie sighed and he slumped in his chair as though he couldn't stand the weight of his own bones. "You have to sometimes. You know how it is. You change or you die. I don't always like it. I do miss the boy you went to school with. He's in there, you know. He's in there and he hates me." He leaned his forehead on his fist. "But you know how it is," he smiled bitterly. His eyes glittered with the same pain she had seen after he'd been knocked in the ground, kicked in the ribs.

"I understand," she said quietly. A stream of curses rattled in her head. She couldn't kill him. Like Charlie, she had tried to break her own heart until it no longer worked, no longer felt things the way she should. But he must have done a better job of it. She knew she couldn't kill him. But she had to know what was upstairs.

"I am sorry about what's happened to you," Charlie said. "I'm sorry about your Dad. For your sake."

"I'm more sorry about you." She at least had the chance to say it. "I'm sorry Charlie."

He gave a shrug. "You can help me make it right at any time."

"There is no making it right," Grady gathered her tools. "Trust me... I'm going to get to work on your alarms. Basement, entryway, back door?"

"Yes, thank you. I'll be along to see you once I've finished some work." He smiled and it was almost like how he used to. Grady turned away.

She meandered to the second floor. Based on what Oswald had told her about the room upstairs, it was above the second floor hallway with the picture window. No one passing gave her any trouble. Except for one man who gave her sunglasses a funny look. "Nice shades," he commented.

"Hung over," she explained and he laughed. But he was right to look. They were not ordinary glasses. They were heat seeking. And as she looked up at the ceiling of the hallway she saw a room full of warm bodies. Red and yellow masses peppering the room upstairs. "Shit," Grady mumbled. She had never wanted to be wrong more badly. But now she knew what had to be done.

In the basement, she quickly installed what was the very opposite of security. The old basement was damp and moldy as anticipated. With some rewiring and a spark...there would be a lot of smoke. And plenty of time to try to evacuate.

She raced up to the yard and found the fuse box hidden behind a flowering bush. After flicking a few switches she ran for the nearest pay phone.

A deep breath forced out all traces of accent from her voice. Then she dialed GCPD.

"In about fifteen minutes there's going to be an electrical fire at 114 Prospect Street. The owner is one Charlie Moran," she told the officer on the other end. "In the chaos, the residents of this building will be under some pressure. They'll be trying to move their human trafficking ring as quickly as possible. Go to the alley attached to Crane St. and the old subway access tunnel on the end of Prospect. It's the only routes they can evacuate from."

"Who is this?" the officer demanded.

"Just a good samaritan," Grady said and hung up.

She climbed a fire escape two blocks down. She watched as the smoke billowed out, alarms chirping, vans raced to the building. Sirens wailed in the distance.

"Will you leave them to die Charlie?" she wondered.

The police had an even quicker response time than she expected. They beat the fire department by two minutes. Grady watched a line of slumping figures rescued from the building. Ill, homeless, drug addicts. Charlie in cuffs.

All in all, her plan had been flawless. But Grady took no joy in it. A day later, the smell of smoke was still in her nose.


"Took this trophy before I went into the basement." Grady dropped a gleaming antique pistol on the coffee table. "Proof for the Boys we're the ones that took him down. You can use it actually. They already think the world of me..." She finished in a brooding silence.

Oswald watched her carefully. The more he came to understand Grady, the more interesting she became. Most people became considerably less interesting once he worked them out.

"So noble," he said to Grady.

She shrugged, still glowering at the pistol.

"You wouldn't take the life of your old friend. I knew that from the start," he said.

"Yes congratulations, you find me completely predicable," she said irritably.

"On the contrary," he said. "You've surprised me. I've known you to lie, steal, and murder. But you condemn someone who deals in human trafficking. I'm curious."

Grady almost looked alarmed. "You don't agree? You can see through a lie. You can get back stolen money and goods. And death well... death is easy compared to the life that was waiting for those people. Their humanity would be stolen. What's life without that? No... there's some things you don't do. That's one of them."

Oswald watched her thoughtfully. She shifted in her seat, wrung her hands.

"Tell me you wouldn't get involved in that business. Tell me you're not Charlie." She sounded almost desperate.

"I've never had to think about it," he answered honestly.

"There are so many ways to make money. There's no need." Her eyes became sharp and cold. "I'm telling you, I won't have it. You ever try it, I'll walk away."

"I won't," he said to pacify her. "I wouldn't." In truth, he wasn't sure what he would or wouldn't do. If he wasn't above murder, he wasn't sure he was above anything.

Grady rubbed her eyes and seemed satisfied.

"You did have me worried," he smiled. "When you said you would kill Charlie... If you would sacrifice your childhood friend, someone you've known so long. Imagine what you'd do to me."

Grady shook her head and squeezed his shoulder. "You're different. God knows I tried to have it any other way, but you are different."

He had once planned on destroying Grady as soon as he made use of her. He refused to be blinded by affection which was why it was a relief to know he had some power over her. Perhaps he could always use her. Protect her rather than eliminate her.

"You should sleep," she nodded toward her room. "You look like death to be honest."

"So should you." He ran a hand from her shoulder to elbow.

"Yeah, sleep," she emphasized with a light shove.

"That's all I was suggesting," he smiled.

Grady lowered her eyes. "Ha... you know that's not what would happen."

"I for one, am very tired," he argued.

Lightly, she touched the bruises on his face. "I know the temptation is there," she said. "But we're too much alike. We'll destroy each other in the end."

He took her hand from his face, examined the bones and knuckles. "And why would you say that?"

"Because we're selfish," she said with a light laugh, as though the answer was obvious.

"There's no denying that. But if you believe our destruction is so inevitable...what is there to lose?" He didn't believe a word she said. She got in these strange moods at times, nothing but fancies. He kissed her knuckles as he had seen Charlie do and she took her hand back.

"Sleep, before you change my mind. Honestly..." She jumped up from the couch and bustled over to her work bench.

He followed, pausing at the doorway. "You look exhausted. Come sleep Grady. I'm not tricking you. Not this time," he smirked.

"I'm behind on orders because I was distracted with this other business. I'm not making excuses. Not this time," she added.

Too tired to argue and knowing it was pointless, he gave up. He had never been in Grady's room. He collapsed into the bed without turning on any lights, but the shadows indicated it was full of books and papers like the rest of her home. It was a strange thing lying in her bed. It smelled like tea and a tangy metallic smell, maybe a hint of machine grease. It smelled like Grady. And she worked away on the other side of the wall. As strange as the situation was, he hadn't slept properly in two days and he didn't have to toss and turn for long. Hours later he was woken by rustling blankets. She was warm and he fought the urge to pull her toward him. She was like a wild animal he didn't want to spook. When he woke early in the morning, she was already in the kitchen making tea and frowning over newspapers.


Sorry if you liked Charlie, I ended up getting rid of him as quick as I first planned. But I've got to start wrapping up the fic at some point so...