«My loneliness is killing meee! And Iiiii…»
«Boss», Butch tried to cut in as he pressed an ice-pack to Barbara's swollen cheek.
She was sitting in the sofa, in a dress that was more than a little torn, her knees swaying in rhythm. Her face was a mess, with a really bad black eye, a slightly less horrific black eye, and red bruises spreading all over her left cheek. Her nose was caked with blood, her lips swollen and split. Gordon had gone to town on her, but then again, it was exactly what she had been aiming for.
«I must confess, I still belieeeve! I still believe…»
«Boss. Please.»
«When I'm not with you I lose my mind!»
«Boss!»
She ignored him, her singing raising in volume and shrillness.
«Give me a siiiiiiIIIIiiiiiiignnnn.»
«BARBARA, FOR GOD'S SAKE!»
She jumped to her feet, raising a fist up in the air.
«Hit me baby one more time!»
«I swear if you don't stop with that song, I will smother you. It's been two hours. STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!»
The blonde put her hands on her hips and looked down at him with a brilliant smile.
«No need to get angry because I'm having a little fun, mister Sourpuss. It's just a song.»
He groaned.
«Listen. Boss. I'm fine with the whole 'talking in lyrics quotes'. That's funny. But you caaaan't sing. No offense. You pretty much sound like a gerbil thrown into a blender.»
«That's a fairly specific image.»
«And a fairly exact one, trust me on that.»
She frowned.
«Are you telling me ten years of singing lessons got me nowhere?»
«I figure they got you somewhere. Out of the house for several hours a week.»
Barbara's eyes went wide.
«Oh my god. Did you know my parents? That was spot on.»
«I've known parents. Now sit and keep the ice pack on your face.»
She sighed and dropped down into the sofa, taking the ice and pressing it to her eye. She pouted. Her bottom lip cracked where it was cut, and blood ran down her chin. Butch heaved in aggravation and cleaned the blood with a baby wipe. He did the same with her nose while he was at it, mumbling about how insufferable she was and all of the reasons he should have found himself a better job, having been purchased for one million dollar notwithstanding.
«I've got to say, you're evil. I mean that as a compliment, really.»
«Thank you, Butch! That's so sweet!»
«So, how many times are you going to pull the 'not-killing-Leslie-Thompkins' card? Not that it isn't hilarious.»
He had to admit, she had flair. It had been so easy, too. Abductions from public spaces were always tedious, but getting a pickpocket to snatch a phone from a pocket on a crowded platform of a train station… Child's play. Sure, Barb' had to spend around four hours giving «interviews» to find an actress with a voice sounding like Thompkins', and Willy had not totally understood he had to pretend to kill said actress, but otherwise, the organization had been minimal. Two dozen guys, two crate of weapons stolen from one of Maroni's trucks, and three cars. Butch had lined that up in two phone calls. After that, everything had been in the timing - calling Gordon right before his girlfriend's train was supposed to arrive in New York - and in Kean's stellar acting skills.
Gordon had swallowed it hook, line and sinker.
«Until Jim leaves her to keep her safe», Kean announced.
«Oh.»
«And then I'll kill her mom.»
«Wh-»
«And then I'll kill her.»
«I'm starting to believe there was an actual reason why the doctors in Arkham wanted to keep you.»
«And theeeen, when Jim lives alone with her cat, and the cat is a cherished memento of his time with her, I'll kill the cat.»
Butch blinked.
«Come on. I'll give you a pass for the 'throwing grenades into a crowd of civilians' thing, and the killing of our own guys, but the cat? That's just cruel. What has the poor thing ever done to you?»
Barbara lifted her eyebrows.
«And it wouldn't even give a shit about Gordon!», Gilzean insisted. «It's a cat!»
«You know, sane people have vastly different priorities than yours.»
###
Harvey stretched on Leslie's convertible sofa and resolutely closed his eyes, trying not to listen to Jim's telephonic conversation with the woman. There wasn't much to hear, really. The bedroom door was closed. The boy was subdued and exhausted and talked in a soft voice, so his partner only heard faint humming. It sounded bad enough. They'd been on the phone for five hours now, and Harvey had kept himself busy, making himself a sandwich, watching TV, and finally going to bed, after it had become clear that Jim would not emerge from the bedroom.
Heroes came and went in Gotham, and when they went, it was either in a box, either battered and broken. Harvey had seen his share of them, brave little knights, full of pride, and dreams, and suicidal urges. The lucky ones had seen the errors of their way quickly, and got with the program. The others - the live one - had very little to look forward to. A date with their AA mentor, sometimes a needle. Visits to the cemetery, to pay their respects to a wife, a mother, and in one case a two years old girl.
Harvey had to hand it to the bitch. As far as making Jim experience the pain of loss without actually killing his loved ones, you couldn't do more efficient. He had no doubt it was only a sick kind of rehearsal and that she'd go for the real thing if given an opportunity. Which could not happen, because luck was a fickle thing, and even Gordon didn't have endless supplies of it. Which meant Harvey had to have a little chat with an old pal and knee him in the family jewels until the location of Kean's hideout of choice was mentioned. Sure, Fish had been fond of Gilzean (and then some), and had gotten Harvey to promise to help the guy out of Zsasz's hands if he could, but that no longer applied. Gilzean had gotten himself out just fine on his own, and he had chosen to work for the mother of all cunts.
Finding him and making him talk would not be too difficult. No Pennyworth needed either.
But that would be in the morning, if - and only if - Jim didn't need a babysitter. The blond could probably use a few days of not being left to his own devices. He had been weeping like a child when his partner had found him behind that motel in the middle of nowhere. Jim Gordon, weeping. That didn't sit right with you. That being said, any escorting or babysitting would be for the next morning. In the meantime, Harvey could as well sleep.
The window opened.
Selina Kyle found herself face to face with a gun. Again.
«Alright, get your sorry ass out of here», Harvey hissed. «Right now.»
«Just wanted some news», she whispered back. «I heard stuff went down today. With Barb'.»
«Yeah, I'm not up for a repeat of your little tirade on how Kean is the best thing since sliced bread», the cop retorted, crossing the room to grab her by the collar. «Out.»
She let herself be lifted, looking up and down at him, in his wife-beater and pajama pants. She couldn't possibly see in the dark, not to mention judge, but she was a teenager and she did that anyway. The judging part.
«So are you going to throw me out a third story window?» she asked when he pushed her head out.
«How the… There's no fire escape?»
«No?»
«How did you even climb up?»
«Easily.»
He sighed.
«Just go away before Jim notices you're here. He's not in the mood for visitors, I'd say.»
The lights turned on, blinding them both.
«It'll be fine, Harv'», his partner said from the bedroom door. «Let her in. Well. Don't push her out.»
He crossed the room and walked into the kitchen. They heard the fridge door open and close, and the clatter of a glass on a countertop.
«If you get bitchy, I will whack the shit out of you», Bullock whispered to the brat. «We clear?»
«Yeah, yeah, I just wanted news, I didn't come to kill his firstborn.»
«So out of curiosity, who are you concerned about, Jimbo, or Maleficent?»
She shoved him away.
«Jackass.»
He rolled his eyes and dragged her to the kitchen, since he wanted to check on Jim and could not trust her not to steal half of Lee's valuables. His partner had poured two glasses of milk and opened a can of beer.
«Now don't you have low expectations of me», Harvey muttered.
Jim chuckled. He looked like death warmed over, but a chuckle was something. Certainly better than devastated silence, anyway.
Kyle grabbed her glass and sniffed the milk, then sipped it.
«So what is it she did?» she asked.
«She killed someone I didn't know and did not kill someone I know», Gordon explained.
«Heeeh… Can I have that translated into 'understandable'?»
«She staged the execution of my significant other, over the phone, and then she shot one of her men to prove she was not above murder.»
«That's… Not as bad as what I expected. I expected a ton worse.»
Jim sighed and drank his milk. Harvey, who couldn't exactly resent being considered an alcoholic, snatched the beer. The brat opened the cupboards and helped herself to the peanut butter, finding herself a spoon to eat it, but no bread. The girl was not afraid of Maria Mercedes Mooney, nor of Carmine Falcone. A little diabetes was not going to send her running.
«Sho whatcha gonna 'o?» she mumbled with the spoon in her mouth.
«Go to work in six hours and a half? I thought Cats were crepuscular, not nocturnal, by the way.»
«Shure you're up for it? You look like you've 'een run o'er by a train.»
«Shure I'm up for it.»
«If you shay sho», Kyle replied, finally spitting the spoon out. «And 'bout Barb'?»
Jim looked down at his hands and bruised knuckles. He said nothing. His face took on a vacant expression.
«And don't start with the sad looks», Selina snapped, rolling her eyes. «She could have done way, way worse, and you kind of had it coming.»
That was nearly two minutes of civil conversation.
«Aaaand that's it, you're out», Harvey intervened, pulling her away.
«It's fine», Jim said. «She's right. And I want her opinion, really.»
«You do?» the cop and the burglar replied.
«Yes. You do seem to have a well-defined one, so give it to me.»
«Already did, you stormed off sulking like a little kid.»
«Point.»
Harvey sat down, worried, and watched the exchange. At worst, he could probably knock the girl out in one slap. It would take less than that to get her to shut up.
«And I'll admit I had it coming», Jim continued. «It was my fault. I'm the reason Barbara is… Different now.»
Kyle stared at him.
«Crazy.»
«Mentally ill.»
«Whatever.»
«And I've failed you, and endangered Bruce… And I've tried my best, and I have messed up time and time again.»
«You haven't tried your best», she retorted, shrugging. «You have tried your hardest. That ain't the same at all.»
The blond mused on that, much more diligently than he had ever mused on his partner's and Essen's advice. He took a deep breath.
«Fair enough. So. What do I do, now? What would be my 'best'? Since you obviously know.»
«Well you might try to think before you do, that should solve ninety-five percent of your problems.»
That hit home. Jim flinched. Then he turned to Harvey.
«I don't hear you protesting anymore?»
«The hell would I? She has a point.»
It was not like he had not told the exact same thing to the idiot a few times before, probably as many times as Bruce Wayne had dollars. And now, he seemed willing to listen. If one good thing could come out of the day…
Jim let out a long sight.
«Fine. So, Selina. How should I go about things? How do you go about things?»
«Me?» she replied, stunned.
«You.»
«Me? I don't save people or anything.»
«Except… That isn't totally true. You protected Bruce. I hear you were taking care of Ivy when she was sick.»
«Well I wasn't going to let those hitmen get him, and it didn't really matter if there was someone with me when I ran away. And Ivy…»
She shrugged.
«You still protected them», Gordon insisted. «You did a good job of it. I'm willing to bet you are still watching over Ivy.»
«Not that she requires much watching», Selina muttered.
«You protected them.»
«I didn't! Well, I did, but it ain't the same thing!» the brat snapped, annoyed. «I don't play hero. I don't save the day! I do small things that I'm sure I won't fuck up!»
Jim studied her face and didn't answer. He was analyzing that.
«It's not rocket science!» Kyle yelled after a few seconds of being stared at, jumping away from Jim's line of sight as if it had been poking her in the face.
«Basically, you're like a miniature Harvey», Gordon commented.
«HEY!» his partner shouted.
Kyle wrinkled her nose in disgust.
The older man rolled his eyes.
«She's a Gothamite, Jim. She's been here longer than you. She knows her shit.»
###