"So," Harvey said as he opened the door to the interrogation room the next day. "While I can't say that our investigation on Edward Nashton is concluded, I can tell you that we've concluded our investigation on you and your computer."
"And?" Casey asked hopefully. The afternoon interview yesterday actually went really well and she left feeling pretty good about herself.
He smiled a pearly white smile. "You're cleared. With exception of those Playboy files, we found nothing incriminating on your computer. I will put a word in with Jim Gordon and tell him to lift your suspension. You should be able to go back to work after New Year's."
Casey broke out into a grin. "Really?"
Harvey nodded. "Yes, really. There will be a tech outside with your computer and you can take it home with you today." He held out his hand. "Thanks you for your cooperation, Casey."
She took his hand and shook it. "Thanks for not deciding I'm a criminal."
He showed her out of the room to where someone was waiting with her computer. "Thank you," she said to the freckled man and took the unwieldy box out of his hands. She balanced it on her hip as she walked down the hallway.
But she made a stop at Gordon's office first. "Hi," she announced cheerfully as she walked in. She put the box into one of the chairs by his desk.
He looked up from a report he had been reading. "Casey," he said and looked at the box. "What's that?"
"My computer." She grinned. "I've been cleared."
Gordon broke out into a smile. "That's great!"
"Harvey Dent is going to come by and tell you to lift my suspension so act kinda surprised, okay?"
"I'll try but no promises." He nodded towards the box. "How are you getting that home? It looks heavy."
"I'll get a cab or something," Casey replied. "I just needed to set it down."
"If you don't mind sticking around for a couple hours I can give you a ride," Gordon said.
"That would be nice," Casey admitted. "But I have some errands to run. I'll just call a cab." She turned to pick up her box when someone down in the pulpit caught her eye. It was a tall woman in a black coat. Her dark hair was long and seemed unkempt and from what Casey could tell, she looked like she had been crying recently. "Who's that?" She asked curiously.
Gordon stood up and came over to where Casey stood. The woman had taken off her coat to reveal a large, rounded belly and sat in a chair an officer offered her. "Oh," Gordon said quietly. "That's Mara Jenkins. Her husband Adam Jenkins was killed in Blackgate. She's been here a couple times to answer questions and sign paperwork. She's due January Twenty-seventh," he added.
Casey's heart thudded heavily in her chest. "Adam Jenkins the security guard?" She asked quietly. Her hands curled into a fist, nails digging into her flesh.
"You remember him? I know I sent him with you but I assumed you got separated at some point..."
She drew in a shuddering breath as Adam's lifeless body flashed before her eyes. "I need to go to the bathroom," she blurted. She didn't wait for Gordon's reply as she all but ran from his office.
She slammed open the door to the bathroom, not even bothering to check if anyone else was inside. She rushed into the nearest stall, locking the door behind her. Her legs trembled and she sank to the ground. Ever since the night in Blackgate, she tried so hard not to think about Adam Jenkins but his death always lurked in her nightmares.
And he had been so close to being a father and she tore that away from him.
Tears streamed down Casey's cheeks and she pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her sobs. But the images of Adam's bloody corpse and Mara's pregnant belly lingered in her mind.
-x-
After was seemed like hours, Casey ran out of tears to cry. She stood and left the stall; the bathroom was still miraculously empty. She washed her hands and splashed water on her face to wash away the tear stains but her eyes were still red and puffy. There was no hiding she had been crying. Casey took a few deep breaths and left the bathroom.
"Casey," someone said the moment the bathroom door closed behind her. Jim Gordon leaned against the wall next to her, holding a steaming Styrofoam cup in his hand. "Come to my office," he said kindly.
"I think I'll just call that cab now," Casey tried to deflect.
"Your computer is still in my office," Gordon reminded her. "And I insist you come anyway. Please, Casey."
Casey's shoulders sagged in defeat. "Okay," she said glumly and followed him back to his office.
Gordon closed the door behind him as Casey took a seat in an empty chair. Gordon handed her the cup, which turned out to be hot chocolate, and sat in his desk chair and stared at Casey solemnly. "I never asked you what happened in Blackgate when I wasn't with you. I didn't want to pressure you into telling me at the hospital. But seeing Mara Jenkins obviously upset you. I didn't want to think about the possibility but to me it seems like you were with Adam Jenkins when he died."
Casey chewed on her lip. "I was," she whispered. She took a sip of the hot drink as she tried to gather her thoughts. "We went to the security room where I was working on rebooting the system. After a while, he came in—"
"The Joker, you mean?" Gordon interrupted.
Casey nodded. "Yes. Him. He came in with a gun and said we were ruining his hard work and then he—then he, he shot Adam. Right in the forehead." She said at last. "Right in front of me."
The tears came back. "It's my fault he's dead, Gordon," she sobbed. "It should've been me. He had a family and—"
Gordon stood up. "Casey," he said, stopping her. "Casey." He came in front of her and knelt down so he was eye level with her. "Don't say that," he said. "Think about your mother. She would be devastated if you died. Think about the people in your life who care for and love you."
"Adam's death wasn't your fault," he continued. "It was the Joker's. He had the gun and he pulled the trigger."
Casey sniffled. He was right, she realized. There were people who loved her and would miss her if she had died. Her mother would be torn apart, Annette would be angry, Rodney would be shocked, and even Barbara would feel sadness if Casey died. "You're right," she said at last.
He smiled at her. "Good. Now, finish up that hot cocoa and I'll call you that cab."
-x-
After he helped Casey get into her cab, Gordon returned to his office and sat at his computer. He had his suspicions that Casey was having problems. There were dark shadows under her eyes and she was jumpy and tired whenever he talked to her. He wanted to chalk it up to the investigation but after she saw Mara Jenkins down in the pulpit… Obviously the events at Blackgate were still lingering in Casey's mind.
Gordon sighed and started a search on Google. Casey needed help and he had to find it for her.
-x-
First, she decided to set her computer back up and eat a quick lunch before heading back out. Luckily the shopping center was on her side of Gotham and within walking distance. She put her dirty dishes in the sink and donned her coat again.
It had been snowing earlier but stopped just before Casey arrived home and it left a nice, thin blanket of white covering everything as she stepped out of her apartment building. Casey pulled her hat lower over her head in an attempt to keep her ears warm.
The shopping center was only a twenty minute walk from her apartment and Casey found it to be a refreshing walk. She had been holed up in her apartment for the last few days with exception of going to the station and back. But she could not forgot about her coffee date with the one and only Bruce Wayne.
And Bruce Wayne was the exact reason why she had to go shopping today. Casey hadn't been to a fancy event in… forever. Probably not since a Christmas party she went to with her father which turned out to be a disaster anyway.
So Casey felt both giddy and nervous as she entered a Macy's. Most—scratch that, all—of her clothes came from low-end stores like Goodwill and Target. This was probably her first time going into Macy's… ever.
I am so pathetic, Casey thought as she dodged the women hanging out at the perfume counter with samples. She managed to find racks of dresses towards the back of the story. But she didn't know where to start. Did she go for a bright color for some fun or something more neutral? What did one wear to an award ceremony? She sighed and picked a couple dresses off the rack to try.
Inside the dressing room, a brunette looked up when Casey entered. "Hi!" She chirped. "How many?"
"Uh..." Casey counted the hangers she held. "Six."
"Alright." She took a sign that had the number 6 on it and handed it to Casey. "Just bring whatever you don't want to me and I'll take care of it, alright?"
"Thanks," Casey mumbled. She entered a dressing room and hung the dresses up.
The first one she tried was a hot pink/fuchsia that came down to her knees. It was pretty and clung to her waist well and wasn't restrictive but Casey didn't like the lacy pattern that was the top fabric of the whole dress. And it made her look like something out of a party magazine.
She took the pink dress off and put it in her 'no' pile.
The second dress was a deep purple that fell at couple inches higher than her knees. The shirt was tight but there was a chiffon sheath top that came diagonally from her hip to her knee. It was cute if a bit plain. There was a button at the top of the back that made a small, oval peekaboo. This was a maybe, Casey decided as she twirled a couple times in the mirror.
The third dress, a cute, little, one-sided turquoise number, turned out to be too small as Casey could barely get it over her hips. She sighed dejectedly and hung it up on the 'no' pile.
Her fourth pick, an orange dress with yellow running through the fabric that got lighter as it went down in an ombré fashion, was something Casey would wear if she was exceptionally daring in high school. The straps criss-crossed in the back and it showed more skin than Casey was comfortable showing. And I don't think orange is my color, Casey thought as she posed in the mirror. It made her face look dried out.
On a whim, the fifth dress was a leopard print wrap dress. Casey stared at it long and hard. She didn't bother trying it on and deposited it into the 'no' pile.
That left her with the last dress: a short, black cocktail dress that ended above her knees. It was the kind where it looked strapless but there was a sheer, black material that rose above her breasts and came down in a 'v' shape on her back and acted as straps. She turned this way and that, liking how it made her waist look slimmer.
Yeah, she really liked this one even more than the purple dress. She allowed herself to smile, enjoying how her face lit up in mirror, as she put a hand on her hip like a model would. This is the one, she decided.
She slipped out of the black dress and put her clothes back on. She exited the dressing room and found the same woman from before folding jeans.
The woman's head perked up as Casey approached. "Anything fit?" She asked eagerly.
"Yeah," Casey replied. She handed the five dresses she didn't want to the attendant. "These didn't work out but thanks."
"No problem!" The woman beamed. "And I'm glad something worked!"
She's awfully chipper, Casey thought as she walked towards the shoe section. The woman must either like her job or she had way too much coffee this morning.
Casey decided she didn't want to wear open-toed stilettos to the award thing as she browsed the shoe. The weather dropped into the single digits last night and she didn't want her toes to freeze. But most of the closed-toed shoes were either boots, both knee-high and ankle, or flats with kitten heels. And she wanted something a bit taller and maybe slightly sexier…
She flushed after that thought. She only met Bruce Wayne twice but something in her wanted to impress him. She wanted to show him she could fit in his world. So she needed to find the best clothes she could.
In the end, she found a pair of cute black wedges with a small gold zipper on the back. Much easier to walk in, she thought in satisfaction as she walked up and down the aisle in them. And she liked how they looked in her feet. But she should probably practice walking in them back home some more. It had been ages since she last wore heels and she could already feel her knees protesting.
After that, she bought some earrings and new makeup and nylons, just in case she needed them. At the check out, she contained the groan as her total came out to nearly a hundred and fifty dollars and handed over her credit card. It was a good buy, right?
The cashier put her dress in a garment bag and the rest of her items in another bag and placed the receipt inside. "Have a great day and keep warm," the cashier said.
"Thanks, you too," Casey replied as she took the bags.
She made sure her purse was slung across her body and secured before leaving. When she was in college she had been mugged on her way home from class and wasn't keen to have it happen again. But she hoped that the brightly lit shopping center would chase away would-be thieves.
Nevertheless, she made a quick stop in a coffee shop she used to frequent for a latte.
"Going to a New Years' party?" The Barista asked as she eyed Casey's Macy's bags.
"Yeah," Casey said as she took her latte. "Didn't have anything fancy."
"Have fun," the Barista replied as she flashed Casey a quick smile. "And stay indoors. The weather forecast is supposed to blizzard."
"I'll keep that in mind."
The news of the blizzard also made Casey think of something that she hadn't before. How was she going to get there? Her car was on this side of Gotham and she couldn't take it on a ferry. Maybe Annette would let her borrow the truck?
As she entered her apartment, she set her bags down on her table and rummaged through her bag for her phone. She hit the number 3 on her speed dial.
It rang three times before Annette picked up. "Hello Casey."
"Hi, Annette. I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you."
"What is it?"
"Well, I'm going to a party on New Years' and it's on the other side of Gotham, so I was wondering if I could borrow the truck?"
"And where is this party? I was hoping to get you and your mother over here for New Years'."
"Ahh, well it's at the Wayne Manor."
A beat of silence.
"WHAT?" Annette yelled in Casey's ear. "How—how did you get an invitation there?"
"Um, I met Bruce Wayne a couple days ago and yesterday he asked me if I wanted to go to the award ceremony for Ferris Boyle slash New Years' Eve party with him." Now when Casey said it out loud, it seemed so unreal.
"You must be joking. Bruce Wayne. You're sure it's him?"
"Yup. I know, it's so strange, isn't it?"
"I'm not sure I trust this man," Annette said slowly. "Bruce Wayne doesn't seem like the type to ask people of the middle class out for just a party."
"I dunno, his butler thinks he's genuinely interested."
Annette laughed dryly on the other end. "His butler told you that? He didn't say it to your face? Doesn't that seem suspicious to you?"
"What's your point?" Casey asked wearily. She flopped down on the couch.
"I'm just worried for you. I love that you're trying to date someone but I'd rather it not be… this Bruce Wayne."
Casey sighed. "Annette, I know you're just looking out for me but I'm an adult and I'm fully capable of making my own decisions."
"Alright," Annette sighed. "You can take the truck. Just be careful alright? Promise me, Casey Rebecca."
"I promise, Annette."
"Good girl. Rodney's going to a party of his own. He'll wait for you at the ferry and you can drop him off on your way."
"Thanks Annette."
Casey barely waited for Annette to say her own goodbye and hung up. She understood that Annette was looking out for her—something her own mother was unable to do (Casey! She scolded herself.) And she knew Annette meant well but Casey was no longer fifteen.
Maybe Annette didn't want Casey to make the mistakes her mother did. But Bruce didn't seem anything like her father. But he didn't seem like the man he became when Mom met him either, Casey thought despondently. No. She shook her head, banishing those thoughts. She couldn't spend the rest of her night assuming all men were like her father. She'd end up afraid and alone. And I know the warning signs. I know how to get out.
In an effort to distract herself, Casey booted up her computer. Nothing was out of place on it but she went through her programs and checked files. And she was pleasantly surprised to find there weren't any bugs or worms on it. "That's good," she said to herself. "They trust me not to do anything bad."
She pulled up Google and typed in Ferris Boyle. His Wikipedia page came up and she clicked it. Boyle was the current CEO of GothCorp and won the Humanitarian of the Year Award for his work with bettering the lives of people around Gotham. One of the things GothCorp was known for was cryogenics: freezing food to preserve and ship it to third world countries to help with the hunger crisis.
Still, it struck Casey as odd. Freezing food wasn't as effective as curing the hunger crisis as much as genetically modifying seeds to be sturdier and fend off bugs. It actually was a stretch as Casey thought about it.
If she hadn't just been under investigation for breaking the law, she would have hacked GothCorp's server and see what's what behind the scenes. But just in case she missed something, she refrained. Maybe she was just being paranoid.
Casey closed the browser and turned the computer off. She turned the TV on and slumped down on the couch. But she lifted her head and let her gaze land on the bags from Macy's and she grinned and felt a giddiness in her stomach.
She would be lying if she said she wasn't looking forward to this party.
-x-
A bit of a filler chapter to ease into Cold, Cold Heart and while I'm not entirely happy with everything, I deemed it acceptable. But I'm excited to start the DLC content. There has always been something compelling about Mr. Freeze. Also I love writing party scenes. And more one on one time with Casey and Bruce. It's going to be fun!
Reviews, favorites, and follows are love! See ya in chapter fourteen!