"I'm sure Gotham is really lovely, mom," Isabelle informed her mother as she settled down onto the leather sofa in her apartment, her feet curled underneath her, the phone held between her shoulder and ear as she wrapped her arms around her mug of hot chocolate.
"The crime rate has gone down, you know," Lydia informed her daughter, her voice stating a matter of fact and Isabelle rolled her eyes, glad that her mother couldn't see her down the phone as she managed to rest her mug in her lap and take the phone into her right hand. The TV had been muted as it showed 'America's Next Top Model' which was at a pivotal point when her mother had decided to phone her.
"Has it really?" Isabelle drawled, tired of having the same conversation with her mother for what seemed like the millionth time. She phoned every week religiously for the past eight years, always moving onto how Gotham had become safer.
"Yes," Lydia exclaimed, sitting on the bottom step of her staircase as Daniel rushed about in the household, trying to prepare dinner and set the table in the dining room as Lydia remained silent. "Commissioner Gordon has cleaned the city up extremely well. He and the Mayor have done well. Gotham isn't what it used to be."
"It can be as clean as it likes, mom," Isabelle responded. "I'm not coming back."
"Well...we shall save this discussion for the end," her mother said and Isabelle wondered what she was talking about as she took a quick sip of her drink. "How was your day at work?"
"Fine," Isabelle nodded. "The housing market is booming in California. Rich beach house owners wanting to sell up to other rich beach house owners. It really is crazy. Of course, it means a heck of a lot of paperwork for me in the office, but, that's fine. It helps that it pays well."
"I'm glad," Lydia smiled down the phone. She was happy for her daughter. She would just be happier if she visited and came back home. Isabelle hadn't stepped foot in Gotham for eight years, refusing to leave California for anything. Lydia and Daniel had visited her in the sunny state, admitting that it was lovely as she showed them around and the best places to dine and eat. "And how was your date the other night?"
"Oh," Isabelle said, drinking some more of her drink and wishing it was slightly stronger as she heard her mother tut down the phone.
"Did it not work out?"
"He wasn't really my type. I warned Annie that I probably wouldn't like him," Isabelle defended herself.
"Sweetie, you don't really have a type," Lydia pointed out.
"I do, too!" Isabelle exclaimed.
"Yes," Lydia replied. "Psychotic doctors."
Isabelle grinded her teeth together as Lydia began to fret down the phone.
"I'm just saying that you've had more dates than I could count and none of them have developed into anything serious...it's been eight years, honey," she reminded her daughter.
"I'm aware," Isabelle said curtly back to her mother. "You don't need to remind me."
"I just want you to be happy."
"I am," Isabelle muttered. "I'm as happy as I can be, anyway."
"I just worry that you haven't gotten over him. Have you sought out any counselling?"
"Mom!" Isabelle complained, almost spilling her drink on the sofa as she did so. "I don't need to see some shrink to tell me how I felt or how I should feel."
"I just think it may help," Lydia complained and then shook her head, knowing that she had to change the topic before her daughter became too annoyed and hung up on her. "A trip to Gotham may do you good, too."
"I somehow don't think so," Isabelle said dryly. "Why don't you and Daniel come out here?"
"Isabelle," Lydia said, her voice going low and she sighed once as Isabelle managed to place her drink onto the coffee table, wondering what her mother's deep sigh was for. "I'd really like you to come here."
"Why?" Isabelle pondered. Her mother had never pleaded with her to go to Gotham. Yes, she had fed her stats and figures of how safe it now was and how it would be nice to see her again. But, she had never spoken with such longing.
"Can a mother simply not want her daughter to come home?"
"Yes," Isabelle nodded. "But, I know something is wrong, mom. What is it?"
There was the shuffling of the phone for a moment before Lydia sighed, looking down into her lap as she felt herself tear up and she sniffed loudly, wiping her nose with the back of her hand as she shook her head.
"I didn't want to tell you like this," she informed her daughter. "Isabelle...I've...I've got cancer...honey..."
...
Flying was never one of Isabelle's favourite pastimes, but, she needed to do it. She booked herself on the first flight back to Gotham and began packing, stuffing anything which she could find into her case before she called the office to explain the situation and then she called for a cab.
She was jetlagged when she landed, not having slept much in the past day as she stumbled out of the arrivals lounge, seeing the large sign which welcomed her to Gotham. She looked around where boards were being held up, declaring people's names. But, she knew who she was waiting for would be lurking at the back of the building.
"Isabelle!" Daniel called her name out as she wheeled her case and juggled her bag which sat on the crook of her arm. She managed to stumble over to him as he looked at her and managed a small smile for her, awkwardly hugging her before offering to take her case.
"How is she?" Isabelle worried and Daniel shrugged as the pair of them managed to walk out of the airport, the noise of planes moving over them as Daniel loosened the silver tie around his neck and pushed his hand through his greying hair.
"She's gone out with your Aunt Jean," Daniel said. "She's supposed to be relaxing. I don't see how that is easy with that woman there, though."
"She didn't tell me much on the phone," Isabelle responded. "She said...she said the tumour hadn't shrunk...what does that mean?"
"I think it would be best if she told you," Daniel said back to her and Isabelle looked at him as he pulled his car key out and unlocked the Mercedes. He opened the trunk, pulling her case upwards and dropping it into the small space.
"I had a look in Google...Daniel..." Isabelle said and Daniel took a deep breath, his hand clenching around the lever of the boot as he looked at her. "How long?"
"Three months," he whispered. "Four at the best."
Isabelle felt her breath leave her body as she gulped once, closing her eyes as she wiped the moisture from the corner of her eyes.
"She hasn't accepted it," Daniel informed Isabelle, opening her door for her before moving to the driver's side and settling into it. "She keeps telling herself that she's fine...some days she's herself and then other's she breaks down...she's an emotional wreck."
"Understandable," Isabelle mumbled; her hands holding onto her head as Daniel began to drive from the airport. "Why didn't she tell me sooner?"
"She didn't know how to," Daniel responded. "You were so adamant that you would never come back to Gotham."
"She should have known that I'd have come home if..." Isabelle trailed off. She couldn't say it. It wasn't true. Her mother couldn't be dying. The mere thought made Isabelle sick.
"You know what your mother is like," Daniel said simply. "She wanted to come back to work...I told her it wasn't happening. I want her to be able to...work isn't important...there are other things which are."
"Is she taking any medicine?"
"Just to help with the pain she's having," Daniel responded. "They said towards the end...she'll be in pain a lot...but she refuses to go to hospital for treatment. She wants it all in the comfort of own house."
"Jesus," Isabelle complained, sniffing loudly as she did so. "And how are you?"
"I'm managing." Daniel nodded sternly at himself. He had to cope. "She needs me to be strong."
...
Isabelle looked through the home which her mother and Daniel had, wondering what had changed. She had redecorated multiple times, Isabelle knew that from the conversations which she had managed to have with her mother. She waited in the living room, sat on the edge of her seat as Daniel went to into their private office, conducting business.
"That dress will never suit you, Lydia. How many times do I have to tell you?"
Isabelle cringed as she heard Jean's voice echo through the hallway and the shutting of doors and dropping of keys were made audible. Isabelle stood up, looking through the large archway as her mother dropped shopping bags to the floor and Jean pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head.
"Isabelle," Lydia sighed her daughter's name. Before she knew it, she was holding her in her arms, her hands holding her close, running down her blonde hair to make sure she wasn't dreaming it. Jean stayed back, her lips pursed as she watched the reunion.
"Mom," Isabelle said. "I'm so-"
"-No, honey," Lydia said sternly, holding Isabelle at arm's length. "There's nothing more to it, sweetie."
"So you've finally come back from California?" Jean's voice sniped in and Lydia turned to look at her sister.
"Leave it," she warned her and Isabelle's eyes went wide.
"No," Jean hissed. "The only time she can make an effort to come and see her own mother is when she finds out she is dying. It's shameful."
"Jean," Lydia snapped. "Isabelle is an adult. She's perfectly fine to do what she likes."
"No," Isabelle shook her head. "She's right."
"She's not," Lydia promised her daughter, kissing her on the cheek. "I know why you didn't want to come back...honey...ignore her."
"We all have bad memories, Lydia," Jean muttered and Lydia rolled her eyes.
"Come back to me and say that when you find out your husband has murdered your father and tried to destroy a city," Lydia sniped. "I think you should go."
Jean held her hands up in defence before pulling her car key from her pocket and playing with it as she left the house and Lydia forced a smile onto her face for her daughter who remained silent.
She had tried not to think about him. She'd tried to forget what he had done.
"She had no right to have a go at you," Lydia informed her daughter and Isabelle shook it off. She'd been weak. Now wasn't the time for her mother to see that.
...
Daniel continued on with life, trying to be normal for his wife as she spent time with her daughter, allowing her to take her out for meals and treat her to dinners. Isabelle almost forgot she was in Gotham. She was too preoccupied with life with her mother. She needed her. It didn't matter where they was.
Lydia sat on the sofa after a morning of walking around the grocery store, beginning to tire from just that. She felt pathetic. Isabelle was in the kitchen, unpacking when the loud explosion went off. She jumped back, feeling the house shake as she wondered what the hell was going on before she rushed into the living room and her mother looked at her with wide eyes.
"What was that?" she wondered and Isabelle shook her head, moving through to the hallway and opening the front door. Gas moved through the street as she looked around, noticing a large chunk of pavement which had been uplifted.
"I think it was a gas explosion," Isabelle shouted out before she moved back into the living room and her mother shook her head, looking intently at the TV as the cooking programme she had been watching was interrupted.
Isabelle took a seat beside her, watching as the view changed to the football stadium in Gotham. But, it had been blown up. The pair of them remained silent, watching on in horror as the masked man took to the stage and told them of his plan. The crowd were silent as his haunting voice moved through them, telling them of the plans which he had in store.
A nuclear bomb and five months. That was all that they had.
"Oh God," Lydia whispered as the TV went dead and she looked back at Isabelle, guilt washing through her body as she shook violently. "What have I done?"
Isabelle looked at her mother, her hand moving onto her shoulder to try and calm her.
"What are you crying for?" Isabelle wondered.
"I...I got you to come back here...and now...now...what have I done, Isabelle?"
"Mom," Isabelle shook her head, holding her mother close as she felt herself begin to shake. "Nothing. You've done nothing. It might all be a lie. We don't know...we don't know anything yet...it'll be alright...it has to be, mom. It has to be."
...
A/N: So, after the football match comes to release of some prisoners. Wonder who's going to come out there?
Anyway, thank you to all of my reviewers today! So glad you're liking it! Let me know what you think! The next few chapters are going to get interesting!