AN: Those of you who aren't ancient, 'snow' is that weird static-y stuff that appeared on TV when there was nothing on. (Once upon a time, all broadcasts stopped at midnight.) We used to have a few VHS tapes that began or ended with it-usually old, shitty ones. Updates may be a wee bit sporadic-life-but this arc will be completed, no worries.
It had been six months of…well, not crime-free, but Scarecrow-free Gotham.
Six months since he'd left Jonathan Crane to die in an explosion.
It hadn't been on purpose. He could either save the hostages or save the Scarecrow, and he'd meant to come back for him. There just hadn't been time. And then the fire had spread to the generator and…well.
For the first two months, he'd been obsessive about looking for signs that he'd gotten out. But there hadn't been any. The only rumors he could find were what he already knew-that he'd been killed.
Logically, it was no great tragedy. It was one less masked lunatic causing terror in Gotham. But selfishly…god, he felt guilty. If he'd been just a little bit quicker, just a minute…
So now, six months afterwards, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Kitty Richardson would have heard about this almost immediately-news traveled fast in Gotham's underworld-and he hadn't been able to track her down. They'd escaped Arkham within two days of each other and she'd just…dropped off the face of the earth.
Planning. Waiting. Whatever she came up with, it wouldn't be pretty.
"You called, Commissioner?"
Gordon sighed and held up a tape. There was nothing written on it-not even a 'play this'.
"This came around noon. No note. As far as we can tell, it's just an ordinary tape."
Hm.
Batman picked it up and looked at it.
"Have you played it?"
"No."
They went inside and put it in the player. There was nothing but snow for a few minutes, but soon enough an image appeared on the screen.
"Hullo, Batman. Jim. How are we this fine evening? Happy? Healthy? Sleeping well, I hope?"
And here it was. The other shoe.
Richardson leaned back in the chair and shoved a bottle of nail polish off camera.
"Sorry. Girl's gotta make time for things. But no matter." She bit her lip and looked away from the camera for a minute. "This has nothing to do with you, Jim. In fact, this is strictly between Bats and myself, so mind your own. If you don't, I'll be forced to make you. But never mind…Batman. Darling. My love." Her smile turned rather bitter. "You know what this is for, don't you? A little accident a few months ago."
He knew it. He knew something would happen. Where was she, anyway? Looked like a library-she was sitting in a leather chair that practically swallowed her up, with a well-lined bookshelf behind her.
"I wouldn't bother deducing my location, dear. For all you know, I'm not even in the country anymore. Now pay attention." She tapped one nail on the desk. "I'm not telling you my master plan-I'm not a Bond villain, you know-but I wanted you to know that is entirely your fault. Think about that, will you? I'll be in touch, Bats. And Jim…you might want to take a little vacation. Take Barbara and the kids for some family time at the beach. I'd hate for something to happen to them."
The video ended and Batman took it.
"I'll review this, Commissioner. Be careful."
"But…"
But he was gone, heading across town.
He wouldn't be sleeping tonight.
THE END