Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or anything Batman related, I believe DC comics does.
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I am not dead.
No, not yet.
My eyes open slowly.
Time has passed.
Where am I?
I am laying on what appears to be a pull out bed.
There are no sheets, just a few pillows. I am also dress in my original clothes from the previous night.
The sun is creeping in through half opened blinds to what looks like a large apartment room. It smells a bit musky, and the carpet is that of a light cream colored tainted with a few stains. There is a bulky television set that resides on the opposing side of the room. Surrounding it on its left side is a small neat stack of newspapers. In this room however, I am not alone. There is a boy, sitting in the center drawing on a sketchpad.
He must not know that I am awake.
The boy is young; he looks about eight or nine years old. His nimble hand works on his sketch that I cannot see. He has a concentrated look plastered on his little face. The boy's blonde hair bounces as he tilts his head inquisitively while sketching.
He then stops and looks up at me.
A grin spreads across his face, causing small dimples in his pink cheeks.
"You're awake," he says semi-excited.
"Hi," I say, trying to sound pleasant, "Um, who are you?"
"James," he says, "What's your name?"
"Eva," his mirth seems to fill the room, "Can you tell me where I am?"
"Here…" he gives me a quizzical look.
"I know sweetheart, but who's house am I at? Who are your parents?"
"Well, my mommy's name is Barbara and my daddy's name is James too," he says.
The pieces of the puzzles are coming together. I am at Gordon's house, my boss's house.
Oh, this is going to be awkward.
"Who brought me here?" I ask, half-knowing what the answer will be.
"Batman," he says as a matter-of-factly, "When I woke up, you were here on the couch sleeping and daddy told me to just keep an eye on you in case you wake up."
I watch him fidget out of pride on the matted carpet.
"Thanks for keeping an eye on me," I respond, smiling sweetly and I attempt to sit up.
Bad idea.
My side burst with a throbbing ache.
My bullet wound.
I lift my shirt up partially to reveal a freshly stitched laceration.
"Whoa," James says as he puts his sketchbook down and moves closer to observe the injury.
"Yeah," I groan in pain, "whoa."
I lean back down on the makeshift bed.
A memory of Ilia from the past floods my memory.
She was happy, dancing and laughing, but now, she is nothing more than a corpse, all because of that monster, the Joker.
Murderer.
"I'll be right back," James says as he gets up and scurries out of the room, his flaxen hair bouncing on his head. I listen to the pitter patter of his feet which are soon joined by another pair, only heavier. He returns to the room with his father.
The Lieutenant of the GPD.
"Nice to see that you're conscious," Gordon says, "you're lucky he found you in time."
"Thank you for your hospitality Lieutenant. But if I may ask, what time is it?" I question groggily, choking back sorrow.
"Six thirty in the morning, he brought you here at midnight. He stitched you up and everything. You were sedated when you got here."
"How did he know where to find me, and why didn't he take me to a hospital?"
"Like I told you Eva, you just have to trust him. You condition wasn't that bad, if he felt that you needed attention beyond his, he would have proceeded to do so."
"Hm," I ponder what to say to this. Gordon trusts him almost blindly sometimes, maybe I should too, "Well, can you tell him I say thank you?"
"You bet," he says smiling warmly, and he turns his head to face his son who has been silent for that past few minutes or so, "James, I want you to go and get ready for school, you mother and your sister will want to leave soon. Eva and I are going to have to have a talk in private."
"Alright dad. Bye Eva!" he says waving at me before he leaves the room. I respond to his giddiness with my best efforts, "Goodbye James, have a good day at school." James then trounces off. Gordon, however, is still standing in the doorway. His demeanor has changed slightly. His aura is giving off a sense of stress. I watch Gordon look upward at the ceiling and then at the mottled carpet.
"Lieutenant?"
He looks up at me, the light from outside reflecting off of his glasses.
"I can't ever go back to my apartment, can I?"
"No," he says sharply, but it has a spice of warmth within it, "no, you can't. We already know that it was the Joker, we found his calling card. We don't even know what his motives were behind his homicide on Ilia Rendell or attempted one on you. You can stay here for the time being, but when you are well enough you are going to have to rent out an apartment, under a fake name. Consider this your promotion, Officer Duren, you're going into hiding and undercover." I don't know whether I should be happy or scared.
Emotions begin to swim.
Gordon continues, "I don't know if I want you on the Joker case anymore-" I cut him off abruptly.
"Lieutenant, that man killed my best friend. I am not giving up the case until that man is locked away. You cannot expect me to lay off for some safety reasons."
He looks at me intensely, too intensely. I fear I may have frustrated him; I should have bit my tongue. He knows best, doesn't he?
"I know that this is hard for you Officer Duren, but do remember what kind of criminal you're dealing with. You are not invincible to him."
His words are painfully true.
"Lieutenant, I understand your concern, but this is my choice."
He looks at me, exhales and slightly changes the subject, "Eva, I am not sure exactly what happened last night between you and the Joker," he pauses, "but just make sure that this defiance act isn't just for retribution. You are going to have to be interviewed about this to add to the case. Tomorrow is when we are going to have to schedule it."
I nod.
"And what about Ilia's parents? Who's going to contact them since they live in Utah?" I ask.
"They will be notified this morning."
I sob begins to form in my tight throat.
Ilia is dead.
Gordon senses this.
"I'm sorry about the loss, Eva," he moves across the room as tears begin to slither down my cheeks. He sits gingerly down next to me, careful not to distraught me anymore. I cannot sit up, and I feel pitiful. I am in my boss's houses, crying on his pull out mattress in his family room.
How awkward.
He reaches out a battered honest hand and gently grasps mine.
"It's okay," he whispers as I hiccup, "It's okay."
"No, no it's not," I say back, opening my puffy eyes to look at him through a lake of tears. He looks down at me sorrowfully.
"When the Joker," I try to say it, but I feel bile rise in my throat, burning me like the pain of Ilia's death is burning my soul, "I just… I am just scared Lieutenant."
"Everyone is entitled to feel fear, Eva," he whispers soothingly.
"I know," I sniffle out pathetically. I look up at him once more and I cannot read his confusing expression. His face is not pity ridden nor is it calm. He lets loose a sigh and I watch the tips of his mustache vibrate. It makes me smile lightly. I like Gordon; he is a good man.
"Are you going to be alright?" he asks smiling calmly.
"I hope so."
"Alright, well, I got to go do my job, so I'll see you after work. I want you to stay here all day and rest. If we are done investigating the scene down at your apartment complex, I'll bring you back your clothes and toiletries. You can take a shower today if you like, just be careful of your stitches. I'm sure my wife, Barbara, will be more than happy to lend you some clothes."
"Thank you Lieutenant," I say.
"You're welcome."
A/N: I know that wasn't a super exciting chapter, but I just wanted to add a bit more character development between Eva and Gordon. Also, let me know what you all think about Eva. Is she realistic? Please be brutally honest! Thanks again for all of you who have reviewed!