Chapter 4: A Good Cop

"Well, you don't need stitches," the paramedic said as he patted the small gash just above Bagheera's eye, "and there's no shards left," his eyes moved to her bare shoulder and added, "It's going to bruise badly. It's going to be sore."

"But I'll be able to move it, right," Bagheera asked as her blue eyes moved around to the broken chandelier. A small smile tugged at her lips as she watched the small owner of the large building screaming at his poor workers to get everything cleaned before the guests came rushing down the stairs in hordes.

"Should be," the medic informed her as he squeezed antibacterial cream upon her facial cuts, "Though I recommend that you do take it easy with that arm. You were really luck-"

"What happened here," the sound of Gordon's tired, annoyed voice interrupted as he hurried towards Bagheera, "Where's Dent?"

"He's safe," Bagheera answered as Gordon stopped in front of her to assess her wounds, she glanced to the paramedic, "Can you give us a minute?"

The paramedic nodded and pulled himself from their view. Bagheera watched as the exhausted man shook his head. She watched as his tired eyes moved from the gashes on her face to the large mark on her shoulder.

"What happened," Gordon asked.

"I'm fine," she answered, "and I will be fine. He shot me with a damned bean bag bullet."

"He got away," he asked, his voice was low and defeated.

She bit at her lip and nodded, "I got a shot off first. I think I hit him. I shot one of his henchmen. They've taken him to the hospital to get the bullet out then he's going to be questioned."

Gordon nodded at her explanation. He turned away from her to help with the mess that the Joker had made.

"Lieutenant," she stated flatly and watched as he turned back to her, "I want to talk to that girl's parents."

Jim Gordon shook his head at her request and said, "I want you to go home. Get some rest, prop up that arm. I'll send Ramirez and another officer to break the news."

Bagheera looked down at her own hands as regret and a sense of shame fell over her as she thought about the young girl in the pretty dress being taken away by the Joker and his henchmen.

"I'll have my cell," she called out to Gordon as he walked away from her, leaving her alone inside of the ambulance. She looked around her as the Gotham wind blew around her; a shiver went through her as she watched officers speak with guests and civilians taking quick glances to the mess that had been left over. In that moment an intense feeling of loneliness came over her as she watched the lives of random Gothamites intertwine.

...

The Joker sat in his small room alone on his unmade bed with needle and thread in his hand as he finished with the remaining stitches in his shoulder. Chuckles escaped him as he stitched his bloody skin together again. Bagheera's bullet sat bloody and forgotten on the side of the bedside table that sat beside him. His jacket lay forgotten on his bed. Make up stained the pillow cover and the blankets stretched towards the floor as if they were trying to crawl away from the bed in disgust that the Joker had decided to make them touch his body while he slept.

The air around him was rancid from trash from the streets that made up the interior of the Narrows, the smell of medical alcohol and peroxide mixed with his own blood wafted towards his nose. The sepia walls were bare, except for a few hanging wires and remaining nails for picture frames, a few bullet holes that had went through the brain matter and bone of those previous owners, along with blood stains that had been a bitch for his henchmen to get out. The carpeted floors were bare, dust collected in the corner from months without being touched by a vacuum cleaner. The only furniture that existed within his small space was his bed, the small table that sat adjacent to the bed, and a small dresser that the previous owner's had left behind after their quick departure. A single window existed within the room that allowed him a view of Gotham City. His bedroom connected to a personal bathroom that still remained fully furnished with supplies. His door remained closed and locked from his henchman as he had performed his own surgery to remove his detective's bullet.

He cackled as he cut the twine that he had used to stitch himself up with. He threw the scissors to the side and jumped to his feet. The Joker smiled wide in anticipation as the girl's screams echoed throughout the small hideout that he and his goons had obtained. Giddiness bubbled inside of his stomach as he looked out the window and to the sparkling lights of Gotham that seemed to blink as a welcoming invitation.

The Joker smiled as he thought of Detective Bagheera Lewis shooting him. No one in the Gotham Police Department had been able to do it. He had underestimated her and it filled him with great joy. He was going to enjoy playing games with the little detective.

"Ooohh," he announced as a vibration rumbled down his thigh and he shivered in an overdramatic fashion, he chuckled as his hand pulled an old cellphone out of his pants pocket. He looked around him and asked suspiciously, "Yeah?"

"The target has just been dropped off," a woman on the other end of the line informed him, her accent screamed inner city gang banger in his ear, "They changed the locks as was expected. You still want me to stand guard?"

The Joker smiled and sighed into his cell phone at the girl's question.

"Make sure she stays aahhh-live. The only one hurting a single, lil hair on her head is gonna be me. Anyone else will take a dive with the fishes," he chuckled at his warning, "and they'll be connected to a cement block that will be attached to your baby sister!"

His laughter was erratic at his warning to the woman on the other end of the line as he hung the phone up quickly. He felt as if his ribs were going to crack from the amount of laughter and enjoyment that he received from the detective's situation.

The Joker smiled as he thought of his plan for Detective Bagheera Lewis and her pretty blue eyes. Being shot by a young, female detective wasn't good for the power dynamics in Gotham City and he was going up against some pretty big fish like the mob and the Batman.

He'd get to the little detective and the young girl was going to be his next card to play. His cards were going to be shown soon, but he didn't want the world to know who is favorite, hidden cards in the deck were going to be. He had to have some ace in the holes and Bagheera Lewis was going to be one of them whether she liked it or not.

He laughed as he turned away from the window and rushed towards the door to meet with his young prisoner. The girl's screams brought him more pleasure with each step he took in her direction.

...

Bagheera looked out her bedroom window; Gotham City's large buildings flickered with lights that never turned off. The breeze wafted in the stale smell of the city into her bedroom and the softness blew a loose strand of hair as she gazed into the shiny skyline of the night. She sighed as a light pain moved through her with every small movement that she made. She still remained in her day clothes as the midnight hour struck, her white shirt that was once neat was wrinkled and untucked, her hair was loose and strands fell from her simple updo. The sounds of the city never ceased and helped remind her that there were people still living and that she was never truly alone in the large city of crime.

'You need to talk to him' the voice in the back of her mind reminded her, 'He's your only connection to Gotham.'

"I can't let them know," she whispered aloud as she answered herself. Ever since she was little, she knew that answering her own mind had seemed like something the insane would do, but it helped her answer the hard questions that she faced in life. It was a habit that she had gained just after her parents were murdered and she was left an orphan. The other habit she had long ago forgotten. She would run her hand through her hair when she was in a stressful situation. The last time she had noticed herself performing the habit had been when she was under investigation by IAB.

'Who? The Batman? Gordon?"

She ignored her own mind's voice and moved away from the window quickly. With each step she took, the pain slowly rippled throughout her from her shoulder. She hissed for only a moment as she came to her bed where her cell phone and pistol lay carelessly on the comforter. The gun remained loaded and the cell phone was updating several old games and apps that she had installed in between major cases or while at the airport waiting for a plane.

Bagheera looked around her bedroom. It was cold. No warmth from the heart came from the small room. The only pictures she had was of her parents on their wedding day, a family photo were she was smiling obnoxiously with missing teeth while both her parents smiled with pride, and a photo of her graduating Gotham City High with one of her oldest friends, Angela Rainey. The walls were bare and small stains from the previous tenant's picture frames remained on the plain wall. The queen sized bed was new along with the plain grey comforter set that lay atop the mattress. She glanced over to the adjoining bathroom where two men had been murdered by the Joker and she shook her head. She had spent all that night scrubbing at the floors to remove the blood while reporters hung around outside to snag a quick picture of her to boost newspaper and magazine sales. Her small apartment was cold and held no comfort or happy memories within the walls. The noises of Gotham moved through her open window.

"What are you doing here? Gotham doesn't need you. They will feed you to the wolves. They will crucify you. You aren't some rich elitist or a mad clown."

"I need to get to work," she whispered to herself as she pushed herself away from the bed and walked out of her bedroom. She moved towards the television set and turned it on for the white noise of the news.

She moved to sit at her small desk in the corner of the living room while the talking heads on the television program talked of the day's most pressing news, which was of the Joker and his kidnapping. She ignored the news anchors talking about her.

"Can Gotham's newest detective be able to bring in the Joker where Lieutenant Gordon and the Batman have failed," an anchor asked as he began his nightly report, "Some sources say yes. An anonymous informant sent us video footage of the showdown between the Joker and Detective Lewis."

"So much for only fifteen minutes of fame," she whispered as she looked down at the photographs of the Joker. She moved through the many written interviews that police had with the living victims of the killer clown. Words like "insane", "deranged", "crazy clown", "cheap suit", and "murderous smile" repeated over and over in the police files. In only ten minutes of re-reading the material that Gordon had bequeathed to her, she felt her eyes begging to pop out of her eyes. Her hands moved across a photocopy of a psychiatrist's opinion on the Joker. The writing was flowy as if a woman had written the opinion.

"The Joker, from archival footage," Bagheera read aloud to herself, "seems to suffer from a manic state of depression probably evolved from severe scarring to the face, delusions of grandeur, and likely a form of anti-social personality disorder described by several stories of the victims. This diagnosis is in no way permanent and only based on given evidence from the Gotham City PD. More will be known if the criminal known as the Joker if he is captured alive and sent to Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane."

Bagheera rolled her eyes and shook her head as she whispered to herself while looking down at his photograph from a bank heist, "They think you are crazy."

Her blue eyes narrowed as she stared at the photograph, "What makes them think that you-"

A thud erupted inside her small apartment.

"Shit," she whispered to herself as she quickly pushed herself away from the small desk and made her way silently towards her bedroom where the noise originated. She entered her dark room quietly; her footing showed a person with police procedural skills that had been perfected over many experiences. Bagheera kept her back towards the wall as her blue eyes adjusted to the darkened room. She quickly, but silently, made her way to the bed and grabbed her pistol. She held the cold weapon with a firm grip as she made her way to the bathroom where a scurrying noise sounded from.

"This is Detective Lewis. I have a pistol in hand. Come out with your hands up," she said in a practiced tone, calmness and authority echoed in her voice with the order along with a small hint of an accent that she had acquired from her various positions in the southern United States.

She moved quickly to push the bathroom door open, but the lights turned on as if on their own accord. She turned quickly with her pistol to see a dark figure coming at her quickly. She fought the man in black. She jerked her arms furiously as the costumed man gripped her strong arm in a python like manner. Her lips clenched as she fought against the masked vigilante of Gotham, her heart beat as adrenaline rushed through her veins.

"Stop fighting," the Batman warned as he pushed her into the wall and shook her wrist. He waited with a hard gaze. Brown eyes met vibrant blues as he waited for her hand to go limp and release her grip on her gun.

"You're hurting me," she said in an angered hiss as she forced herself to release her grip on her weapon. She watched him carefully; her brain was waiting for the opportune moment to strike against the unwanted visitor. She bit at her lip as she felt him let go of her left wrist, allowing her to be able to strike easily against her assailant.

"Are you in the mob's pocket," he asked, his voice was scratchy and deep.

"No," she answered, her tone was flat with a hint of anger.

"Then why did you let the Joker go," Batman asked of the detective.

"Why didn't you catch him AHH," she hissed as her intruder squeezed tighter on her wrist. She took a deep breath as he loosened his grip on her wrist momentarily, "Where were you? Off saving damsels in distress?"

He seemed to growl at her as he glared into her eyes as if he were searching into her soul for answers as to who she was. He ripped the gun away from her and threw it back onto her bed where it landed without incident.

Bagheera took that moment to strike while he was preoccupied with her seen weapon. Her free hand hurried behind her back and under her blouse where she had a hidden pistol tucked into her pants. She smiled almost fiendishly as he turned back to face her as she held the business end of the weapon under his chin.

"Let me go," she said as her brow lifted ever so slightly, her eyes never blinked as she glared at the infamous Batman, the man that sent most criminals into a panic, "Now," the hammer clicked into place as she signaled to him that he was in a situation where he had underestimated her and allowed her to have the upper hand, to have an ace in the hole. Bagheera smiled as he freed her wrist from his vice grip.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne," she said with a knowing smile. The detective smiled as she watched the famous billionaire's brown eyes widen at the sound of his name. She couldn't help but allow a chuckle to escape her as he backed away from her slightly in disbelief.

"It really wasn't that hard Mr. Wayne," she informed him, "and to show you that I mean you no harm, I'm going to put my weapon away," she placed her weapon back into its perfect hiding spot, "It really wasn't that hard to find out that it was you to be honest."

"How," he asked, shock was evident in his voice as he looked over the woman that he had severely underestimated.

"It's not random that one of the richest men in Gotham would come to the police station and have a chance encounter with a new detective that has been given the Joker as her case," Bagheera answered with a shrug of her shoulder, a smile tugged at her lips as she looked at him, "The Batman hasn't caught him. Gotham PD hasn't caught him. You came to check me out, find out who I was. Rather convenient of you to throw me into a hidden room in your penthouse, but," she shook her head at the seemingly obvious, "The Batman has wonderful toys, expensive toys…and who is the man that can buy those toys? It wasn't hard."

He eyed her, disbelief still cast over his person. He shook his head; he couldn't form words from the sudden shock that his identity had been so easily realized.

She smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders casually, "I'm a good cop. I was an honors graduate in psychology and criminology. I'm good at what I do," she smiled and admitted, "well most of the time. I was on the way to being a trainee at Quantico with a future in Behavioral Science, but that shooting incident occurred and no one wanted to touch me with a ten foot pole," her eyes lowered from the caped crusader and her voice lowered an octave, "My career ended before it even took off. I am a good cop. I'm an honest one."

Bagheera eyed him carefully and nodded with a whispered, "Your secret is safe with me, Mr. Wayne."

"The Joker," he started in an effort to change the subject. His eyes radiated worry, but a flicker of hope remained that he could trust her.

"He'll make contact," she said in an informative manner. Her shoulders squared as she entered her professional mode of life.

"He's going to kill the girl," Batman asked.

"I don't think so," she answered, "But I have been proven wrong before. She's just random."

"Nothing about the Joker is random."

"No? What makes you think that," she asked, "Everything that he does is on a whim. He took the girl because she was in grabbing distance."

"Why not take Rachel Dawes," he asked, his voice was still deep.

"Why risk taking a political body," she stated, "Taking her would end him quicker than taking this young girl. Who cares about a random girl? You take the district attorney's girlfriend, you take the richest man in Gotham's best friend, and you are looking to be arrested. He's not going to risk freedom for the ADA. It's not worth it."

"He's going to come after you."

"Funny," she answered with a forced chuckle, "I was going to tell you the same thing," she shook her head and walked towards the window to look into the darkness, "Right now you and I are his biggest threat to freedom that allows him to destroy everything in his path."

She turned to face him only to see an empty bedroom once again. She shook her head as she looked over to the place where the caped crusader had stood. The familiar haunting sensation of loneliness came over her once again. The detective ran her hand through her hair and sighed. Her heart had yet to stop pumping hard from the adrenaline of going nose to nose with the Batman. Her left hand moved to her right wrist and caressed it softly. She was thankful that he had not cracked the bones inside of her thin wrist.

A ringing came from her cell phone that still lay on the bed. She moved toward it and grabbed it from the bed. Gordon's name reflected back at her.

"Lewis," she answered after the second ring.

"I called to make sure that you are resting," she heard his concerned voice on the other end of the line ask.

"I had a visitor," she informed him as she moved to grab a jacket out of her closet in the corner of the bedroom. She closed the window before she moved towards the bedroom door to leave.

"The Joker," his voice was rigid and full of worry.

"No," she answered as she pulled the jacket carefully on, a pain surged through her and she tried to ignore it while she was on the phone, "Your friend, the Batman."

"Did he tell you anything?"

"No," she answered, "I told him a few things. One of which was that I was a good cop," she opened the door to her apartment and locked it from the outside with her keys, "I can't help but think that he asked that on your behalf, what with you two being all buddy buddy and all."

"Bagheera," he said with an almost fatherly tone, "I never once doubted your honesty. I'm going to trust you until you have proven otherwise."

She smiled as she walked to the black town car that the police station had allowed her to use. She carefully placed herself inside of the car and pulled her seat belt on, though she did not start the car.

"I'm fine," she said after his moment of silence, "to answer your previous question."

"You've been putting ice on it like the paramedic said," he asked.

Bagheera sighed at his father like tone and lied, "Yeah. It's all good. I was just getting ready to go to bed actually."

"Well I was just calling to check up on you," he informed her, "so I'll just let you go."

"Thank you," she answered as she looked into the distance.

"Goodnight Detective."

"Good night Lieutenant," she replied softly and dismissed the call just before she started her car. The car purred into action and she placed it into gear and sped down the road.

"Arkham Asylum," she whispered to herself as she set her course for the old asylum in the deepest section of the Narrows, "here I come."