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Jack POV
"Jackie!" My voice echos throughout the dark alley, ricocheting off of building walls into oblivion. I sigh slightly and continue to move down the abandoned back-way. It's been nearly two weeks since my daughter ran away and my hope is starting to fade away quickly. I'm sure that she has no intentions of letting me find her, but I still have to look. She may hate me, but I need to know that she is okay. That she is safe.
My pocket starts buzzing and I pull my phone out and answer it without looking at the number.
"Hello?"
"How is it going Jack?" Of course it would be Ace. He is worried about me. Sure he wont voice it, but I know that he checks up on me often enough.
"No sign of her. Again." I can feel the pressure behind my eyes build and my vision starts to blur slightly. I keep my voice as strong as possible as to not give it away. I don't cry.
"Jack, come home. Get some dinner and sleep and I will go out for the rest of the night. If we find her she is going to need you to be strong."
"Sure. Fine, I'll be there soon." I've realized that there is no arguing with him anymore. I just don't have the energy to. I hang up the phone and shove it back into my pants pocket roughly.
My eyes finally give way to the tears that had been forming. A small sob escaped my lips and my hands instantly attack the falling tears. I can't cry. I can't allow myself to be this weak. It feels like decades before I can force myself to move away from the alley. If Jack can't find her… maybe the Joker can.
Jackie POV
I pound the streets of the Gotham narrows, following the men in front of me. "Come on Girly, you have to keep up with the boys if you're ever gonna make it here." I throw myself forward thinking only of the sprinting my legs are doing and the burn in my thighs as my legs hit the pavement again and again. I finally manage to keep up, but keeping pace with the much taller boys wont be easy for long.
Luckily we reached our destination before I fainted and once inside the apartment building where I've been staying I doubled over and put my hands on my knees. The guys were out of breath as well, but not as much as me. We just finished out running the cops with our new load of crank in our bags. Working for the mobs of Gotham wasn't what I had in mind for my future, but it is only until I have the money to get away.
After we all catch our breath, Crow, one of the guys I've been running with since I go here ten days ago, breaks out his pipe and pulls out the large baggies of drugs we just smuggled for the mob. "Let's say we celebrate with a little." I smile and politely decline the offer. I was in a bad place when I got here, but meth wasn't the answer to my problems, it's not my job. I much prefer a more subtle drug, pot has become my new uncle, and small doses of heroin my dad. They seemed a little less… life-destroying?
It's night and I'm in my half of a bedroom watching TV with the guys. I'm on the team by being the "cute girl who plays innocent when the cops show up." I don't mind my purpose here, it isn't a huge deal why I am here, just that I am indoors and safe. The first few nights I was on my own I was on the streets. On the third night it occurred to me that no matter what I did, I had to find a way of living, and Crow and his gang were my best option at the time. Plus, they're a nice group of guys. And we're so low on the food chain that I will probably never meet the big guy we work for, Gambol. I'm more likely to end up in juvy before I meet him.
The guys are the same as me, staring into nothing, the TV is just noise that keeps us all from getting too lonely with just our strung out thoughts for company. My thoughts always stray back to my dad. I know he is looking for me. It is well known that the Joker has been out and about looking for a girl that fits my description; the guys I hang around are just too stupid to notice the resemblance.
Crow and the guys are going to be up for days on their high, but mine is failing me now and I'm tired. I curl up in the corner with a blanket I found in the hallway a few days ago and think about hot showers and the homework I was supposed to do for my dad before any of this happened. That is the last mundane thought I think to get to sleep every night. Like tomorrow morning I'll wake up and make Dad breakfast and start reading Moby Dick. And all of this has just been the most fucked up dream, and none of it is real.
My eyes drift close and I fall asleep with the smell of dirty clothing and smoke from meth pipes in my nostrils. And I think about my bed and my dad and my friends until I finally get relief and sleep.