Rochelle Parker had the shittiest day to put all shitty days to shame. Today, Valentine's Day, was supposed to be her day of pampering from her fiancé. He was supposed to lavish her with dinner, flowers, chocolate, wine, and massages but no, he had to go to California on a business trip. Which left her stuck at her thankless job and listening to women gush about their Valentine's Day plans.

She growled as she swept up the hair trimmings on the floor. She plucked the dustpan up and opened the trash can with her foot. After dumping the trash with a little more force than necessary, she turned back to her station and made sure all of her tools were in their right places. Her hairdryers, curling irons, and straighteners were unplugged and stowed away in their respective cubicles. And finally her scissors were cleaned and tucked away, ready for tomorrow's use.

Well at least she left a clean station unlike Holly. She tossed a scowl to the station next to her where hairdryers and straighteners were tossed carelessly on it. Unlike Holly (the Bitch, as Rochelle liked to call her,) Rochelle actually took pride in her job as a hairstylist. Her tools were professionally sharpened and polished every four months and she made sure she had top of the line styling tools to use for her clients.

But did she receive recognition for her care? No she did not. Instead Holly the Bitch would roll her eyes at Rochelle and smack her gum in the break room. When working, she would talk loudly over the dryers with her clients and make this horrendous laugh that made her sound like a donkey.

Rochelle tossed her apron over her chair and snatched up her coat. She put it on and buttoned it up and slung her purse over her shoulder. She gave the room one last scowl as she punched out and left the salon, locking the door as she did. Because everyone else had dates with their boyfriends (or, in Becca's case, girlfriend) Rochelle was the one they chose to stay and clean up. And Rochelle was livid over it.

"Fuck them," Rochelle spat as she unlocked her car door. "And fuck you too Will for going to California on what's supposed to be my day." She turned her car on and sped out of the parking lot.

All she wanted at this point was to go home, pour herself a glass of wine, and take a long bath. And she was going to do exactly that since she had nothing else to do. Their reservations at Valenzia were canceled and went to some other bitch and Rochelle had to take care of herself at home.

"Fuck this," she snarled as she took a sharp turn, cutting off a green Honda. "Fuck you!" She shouted as the Honda honked at her. She flipped him off in her rear-view mirror.

She came to a screeching halt outside her home and turned to the car off. Wine and a bath, that was all she was going to get tonight, she fumed as she left her car. She was even going to have to dig her vibrator out of her closet tonight…

Rochelle stomped to the front door and unlocked it. As she entered the house, her mouth dropped open in surprise at the scene before her. Red rose petals were scattered everywhere; all over the white couches and the dinner table. Her eyes landed on a trail of petals that led upstairs and a sly smirk grew on her face.

"This isn't Valenzia but I'll take it, Will," she called to the empty house. But she received no reply. She frowned. She hated it when Will played games like this. So if he was going to be like this, she was going to take her sweet time going upstairs.

She pulled her coat off and tossed it and her purse onto the couch. Ambling into the kitchen, she grabbed a wine glass and a bottle of red. After pouring herself a glass, she took a long swig and topped off her glass. Finally, she started walking towards the stairs.

"I expect a shoulder and foot massage first," she said loudly as she ascended. "I had a work day from hell. Everyone just prattled on about their dates for Valentine's Day and I just wanted to stab them all with my scissors. So good thing you came back from Cali early. I might just even give you a blowjob for that." She frowned again when Will didn't reply.

"Will, you know I hate this childish behavior," she complained.

The petal trail went down the hallway to their bedroom. She passed the several photos of her and Will smiling and hugging on the wall. She stopped for a moment and smiled at her favorite: her and Will in Rome after her proposed to her. He was kissing her cheek as she flashed the large diamond ring on her finger.

"Will," she said as she opened the bedroom door. Inside, the rose petals decorated the bed and lit candlers were scattered around the entire room, giving it a soft glow. But one thing was missing from the room: Will.

Rochelle let out a sigh. "Points for the candles," she said. "But you're taking care of them after we finish." She stood in front of the bed and sipped at her wine. "Come on Will," she complained. "I've had it with these games of yours. Get out here and give me my damn massage."

As if on cue, she felt him come up behind her. She smiled in triumph and began to turn around. "Finally. I hate it when you—"

Behind her was not her fiancé but a large, obese, bald man, with the names of the month tattooed around his skull. She dropped her glass. It shattered and stained the white carpet blood red. "What?" Her mouth moved uselessly as she tried to wrap her mind around this stranger standing before her. "Who are you?"

The man smirked and reached for her. "Happy Valentine's Day," he purred. Rochelle opened her mouth to scream but the man's hand clamped around her neck, cutting off her air. "No, no," he scolded. "Screaming ruins the surprise."

He backed her up until the back of her knees hit the bed and she fell backwards. The man clambered on top of her. By this time, Rochelle's mind caught up to her and she started to struggle. "No!" She wailed and began to scream.

He slapped a heavy hand over her mouth. "Shh," he soothed. "It will all be over soon," he said.

Tears pricked at Rochelle's eyes as she stared up at the large man, silently pleading for mercy with her eyes. She beat at his arms uselessly.

"Now, now. Don't struggle." He used his legs to pin her down. "This will only take a few minutes." With his free hand he dug into the pocket of his dirty, orange jumpsuit and pulled out a hammer and chisel in his meaty fist.

Rochelle's eyes went wide and she renewed her struggles with vigor. In response, the man dropped the tools next to her and landed a heavy blow to the side of her head. She was dazed as he reached back into his pocket and took out a small, black remote. He pointed it towards the corner of the room and Rochelle heard Barry Manilow's Can't Smile Without You start.

"Perfect," the man said as he set the remote down. He took up the hammer and chisel and knocked Rochelle's hands away. Tears flowed freely from her eyes as he moved her cardigan out of the way. She shook her head as he rolled her shirt up.

"No," she choked out.

"Please stay quiet," he said calmly as he pulled her bra down. "Or you'll ruin it." Rochelle blinked as she desperately tried to banish the lightheadedness in her head. With mounting horror, she watched him place the chisel on her breastbone, right above her heart. He smiled. "Wonderful." He lifted the hammer high above him and finally, she found herself. She let out a scream as he brought the hammer down.

-x-

"So there I am, standing in Annette's living room with Rodney and it's just covered with pillow feathers. And Annette is staring us down, demanding to know what happened. And, of course, Rodney tries to explain that he didn't know the pillow had a hole in it and that it would explode if he hit me square in the face with one. And she's just boiling mad and then I had the sense to tell her that it was an ugly pillow anyway. Of course, she didn't like that and set us to cleaning the entire living room without a vacuum." Casey finished her tale and took a sip of her wine.

Bruce, on the other hand, sat across from her laughing. "Unbelievable," he chuckled. "How was the clean up?"

Casey snorted. "Long. Every time we thought we were done, Annette found more feathers for us to clean up. I swear she was going into the basement and tearing up old pillows and dumping the feathers in the living room so we would never be done. By the time Rodney and I finished, we were too exhausted to go upstairs so we just passed out in the living room."

"Amazing," Bruce said, smiling. He finished the last of his panna cotta, still chuckling.

Casey smiled in relief. Every time she brought up a childhood story, she worried Bruce would ask why she talked about living in Annette's house instead of her family's. But then again, Casey never told Bruce her mother's name. For all he knew, Annette could be Casey's mom. And that wasn't technically a lie since Annette was like a second mother to Casey.

She finished her wine as a waiter came over. He handed Bruce the check and asked if they needed anything else. "We're fine," Bruce said as he glanced up at Casey. He placed his credit card in the book and handed it back to the waiter.

"Thanks for the dinner, Bruce," Casey said as the waiter walked off to process Bruce's card. Her eyes landed on the gorgeous bouquet of red roses and stargazer lilies sitting in a vase of water. "And the flowers."

"Hey, it's Valentine's Day," Bruce said. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't pamper you?"

Boyfriend. The word still felt foreign to Casey. Their relationship was out to the public and it made sense to use the terms 'boyfriend and girlfriend' but she still couldn't wrap her mind around it. She was dating Bruce Wayne.

"It's Valentine's Day supposed to just be a couple's day?" Casey asked. She rummaged in her purse for Bruce's present. She spent weeks agonizing over what to give a billionaire who had everything. A card felt like too little and anything that could be useful to Bruce were way out of her price range. In her desperation, she turned to Alfred who gave her some pointers and she found something that she could afford and felt sure Bruce would like.

"She pulled out an envelope and small bag. "For you," she said as she presented them to Bruce.

"You shouldn't have," he said as he took them. But before he could open them, the waiter returned with Bruce's receipt. "Thank you," he said to the waiter as he took the book. He signed the receipt and put his card back in his wallet.

"Shall we?" He asked as he pocketed Casey's gift.

"Sure," she said, a little downtrodden that he didn't open it. But she stood and slung her coat and owl hat on and picked up her flowers.

Outside, Casey blinked as cameras started flashing. "Bruce over here!" Someone called out.

"Casey, look this way!"

"Someone on the waitstaff must have told," Bruce scowled as he took Casey's hand and led her through the throng of reporters. She kept her eyes straight ahead where Alfred stood by the car.

"Evening Master Bruce, Miss Wilson," Alfred greeted as he opened the door for them.

Casey slid inside, Bruce following and Alfred shut the door. Outside, reporters still clamored for their attention. "Do they really have nothing better to do?" Casey asked as she set her flowers across her lap.

"No they don't," Bruce replied as Alfred got behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb.

The reporters' reappearance was the first Casey'd seen of them since the article about them came out. She suspected Bruce had some powerful lawyers or Gordon would really come through on his arrest threat because no one loitered around the GCPD, waiting for her to come out.

Casey yawned and rested her head on Bruce's shoulder and his fingers entwined with hers. Dr. Crane swore to her the antidepressants would help with the nightmares but recently, they seemed to be getting worse. A few nights ago she had one that seemed so real and vivid she woke up screaming (and brought her super down on her.) She made a mental note to bring it up with Dr. Crane during her next session. Perhaps she needed her dosage adjusted.

"Tired?" Bruce asked.

Casey nodded, rubbing her cheek against his wool coat. "Haven't been sleeping well," she admitted. "Bad dreams."

"About what?"

Dying, she thought. The Joker murdering me over and over again. "Well, in my line of work you see some things that just stay with you. This past week I've been staring at pictures of Julian Day's murders."

"The Calendar Killer?"

"The one and only," she murmured. Gordon had her searching all week for signs of Day. The man murdered on major holidays and they all knew he would strike on Valentine's Day but Casey found no sign of the man. She could only hope the Batman would find Day before he killed again.

"We're here," Alfred announced as the car came to a slow stop.

"My apartment?" Casey suddenly felt wide awake. She and Bruce had been seeing each other since New Years, just a little over two months now. Was now the time when they took their relationship to the next level? Crap, do I invite him up for coffee? She wondered. Am I ready for this? I'm not even on the pill.

Bruce left the car and held out his hand for Casey. She picked up her flowers and scooted out, taking Bruce's hand. She smiled waveringly at Bruce. "Thanks for tonight," she said. Did she ask him up for coffee or not? Pick now, Casey!

"I'll see you later?" Bruce said and smiled.

She nodded, secretly relieved that Bruce picked for her. Standing on her tip-toes, she kissed Bruce briefly before heading for her building. "Goodnight Bruce."

"Goodnight Casey."

-x-

Alfred drove away from the curb the moment Casey entered her apartment building. "Any sign from Day?" Bruce asked immediately.

"None, sir," Alfred replied. "He has not shown up at any of the places you theorized him to be."

Bruce scowled at his reflection in the car window. "Valentine's Day isn't over yet, Alfred," he reminded. "I should have been out earlier looking for him."

"And cancel your dinner with Miss Wilson? I'm sure she would have been most heartbroken."

"I would have made it up to her."

"Might I remind you that if you begin to make a habit of making plans with Miss Wilson and canceling them, you'll soon find yourself without a girlfriend."

Girlfriend. The word still spooked Bruce. It had been years since he dated—since high school, before he left Gotham to find his answers. And since coming back two years ago, he showed some cavalier dates with models off as a bone for the press but had nothing substantial. Now, he had Casey.

There were times when he enjoyed her company and the laughter she brought with her. But when he found their dates going later than he intended, he felt slight annoyance. It was time he could be using to track down criminals such as Day and Nashton (both of whom were still at large) or patrol. Bruce knew he shouldn't blame her but he wasn't an idiot. He knew the day would come when he had to decide if the Batman could afford to keep Casey around.

"Perhaps you should open her gift," Alfred commented from the driver's seat.

That's right, he realized. Casey had gotten him a gift for Valentine's Day. He reached into his coat pocket and took out the envelope and bag. He opened the envelope first. It was a plan white card that said: "You are HOTTER than Brad Pitt, George Clooney, and Johnny Depp put together." Bruce grinned and opened the card. It said: "By the way, have you seen my glasses? -Just kidding. Happy Valentine's Day, Casey."

Bruce laughed. "Cute," he chuckled. He set the card down on the seat next to him and opened the bag. He reached in and pulled out a pair of smooth, circular, onyx cufflinks.

"Miss Wilson called me in a panic because she didn't know what to get you. She wasn't sure what a billionaire needed," Alfred said.

"They're very nice," Bruce commented. "Remind me to send her a thank you."

"Of course, sir."

-x-

"Wilson," a desk sergeant barked at Casey as she walked into the GCPD the next day. "Gordon wants you to call him ASAP."

"Sure," Casey replied as she rummaged in her bag for her phone. "Did he say why?"

"Yeah. Day's killed again."

Casey's face fell. Neither the GCPD or the Batman found him before he murdered another person. "I'll get on it right away."

She ran for the Cybercrimes room and fell into her chair. Booting up her computer, she called Gordon. "He killed again?" Casey asked the moment Gordon picked up.

"Yes," Gordon said, sounding exasperated. "I've already sent you the crime scene photos."

"Yeah, I'm just booting up my computer. Hang on." Her computer turned on and she pulled up her programs. "Okay, give 'em to me."

"Vic's name is Rochelle Parker, age thirty-two. She was found early this morning by her fiancé William Lee who came home from a business trip to California."

"Yeah, I'm seeing it—Oh my god!" Casey covered her mouth in horror. The picture of the woman, Rochelle, was horrific. She lay on a bed surrounded by red rose petals, hair spread out like a dark halo, but there was a gaping hole in her chest. And in her outstretched hand— "Is that her heart?" Casey asked, feeling sick.

"Yes it is," Gordon replied. "Forensics theorized he used a sharp object to get it out. Like a hammer and chisel."

"Oh ew, don't tell me the details," Casey said. "What do you need from me?"

"I've been informed there are video cameras at intersections along Parker's road. I need you to get the surveillance footage and see if you can find Day. Her time of death was estimated to be between 7:30 and 8 P.M."

"It'll take me time to go through the footage to find when he arrived at her house," Casey said as she typed.

"He decorated the house with rose petals and candles. That had to take time."

"Yeah it does," Casey said. "So let's give him about an hour before she comes home." She entered six o'clock into the log. The images of the three intersections popped up and Casey began to fast-forward through them. At quarter after six, she saw a large form lumbering down the sidewalk, three blocks from Rochelle Parker's home.

"I think I got something," Casey said. "He's wearing a large coat but he's got the same shape as Day." She froze the frame and ran a body-recognition program. The height and weight of the man came up with a ninety-five percent match. "I've got a strong match for Day," she continued and resumed the footage.

She watched him walk three blocks, through three different cameras and intersections until she got a fourth camera where he disappeared from the sidewalk. "I don't see him on the cameras anymore," Casey told Gordon. "Chances are he's in Rochelle Parker's house but I don't have video confirmation."

"It's okay. Fast-forward until you see him heading away from her house."

"Doing it now." She sped the footage up until she spotted the same lumbering form walking back the way he came. "I've got him walking towards Maple… He turned left on Maple. Let me see if there's a camera on Maple somewhere."

To her luck, there was an ATM on Maple and she hacked into the security feed. She saw the man turn down an alley and a few minutes later, a car pulled out. "He got into a car. A Toyota Camry, looks like." She went back to the intersection at Maple and Fifth and looked for it. She captured the image of the license plate. "I've got a plate, Gordon," she said breathlessly. "I have a plate!"

"Run it. Immediately."

-x-

As her luck would have it, the license plate led to a stolen car but she felt a little cheered now they had a car to track. Gordon had an APB put out on the car and told her it was only a matter of time until they caught Day. "He slipped up, Casey," Gordon told her. "We have something traceable. We'll get him."

"I hope so," Casey replied. She hated all this waiting.

Casey's rarely used desk phone rang. She picked it up. "Wilson," she answered.

"You've got someone here to see you," the desk sergeant on the other end said. "Shall I send him up?"

Him? "Uh, who is it?" She asked.

"Bruce Wayne."

Bruce? What was he doing here? They saw each other yesterday. "Yeah sure, send him up," Casey replied.

Gordon gave her a bemused look. "Wayne?" He asked idly.

"Yeah," Casey replied. "Do you need anything else from me?"

Gordon shook his head. "No. Have a good lunch."

"Thanks," she said as Gordon left. A few minutes later, Bruce entered carrying a bag from Paula's Diner. "Paula's Diner?" She asked in confusion. It was the diner she treated Bruce to a couple weeks ago.

"I thought I'd surprise you with lunch," Bruce grinned. "And I remembered how much you liked the reuben from Paula's."

"I do," Casey said. They made a really good reuben at Paula's. "But what do I owe the lunch visit?" She asked. "We saw each other last night."

"I never thanked you for the gift," he replied. He flashed his sleeves at her and she felt cheered to see him wearing the cufflinks she got him. "Also I loved the card."

"You're welcome," she said. She watched Bruce set the bag on her desk before she jumped up. "We need plates. Hang on, let me grab some from the break room. I'll be right back."

She hurried off to the break room and pulled out a couple plastic plates and silverware. When she came back, she found Bruce staring at her computer screen. Crap! She forgot to minimize her screen which displayed pictures of Rochelle Parker's murder and Julian Day's stolen license plate.

Casey practically ran for her desk. "Got plates!" She announced as she edged past Bruce and turned off her monitor.

Bruce had a strange look on his face. "Was that from the murder they were talking about this morning?" He asked. "The Calendar Killer?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Um, don't tell anyone you saw some of the pictures. They haven't been released to the public yet."

"Of course," he said. "I wouldn't want to interfere with a police investigation."

"Thanks." She cleared a space at her desk and set the plates out. Bruce pulled the food out while Casey grabbed another chair for Bruce. They sat down and she unwrapped her reuben. She moaned in delight when she bit into it. She loved Paula's reubens because they slathered their house-made thousand island dressing on it. "Oh this was a great idea," she said. "Thank you." He spoils me, she thought.

"No problem," Bruce said brightly.

She devoured her sandwich and started in on her house chips while Bruce worked on his chicken sandwich. "Sometimes I do miss greasy food. Alfred insists on eating healthy most of the time," he said.

"Well then you have to try Ricky's down on Third," she said. "They make the best fish and chips, ever."

"I'll remember that for next time."

Casey finished her chips and wiped her hands with her napkin. She took a long drink of water and stood to throw her trash away. "Let me," Bruce said as he finished his sandwich.

"No let me," Casey insisted. "You've spoiled me enough. Least I can do is take care of the trash." She tugged his plate out of his hands and walked to the trash and dumped them.

"Thank you again," Casey said as she headed back to Bruce.

"No problem." He beamed. "I needed to get out of the office anyway. There are only so many board meetings I can take without going crazy."

She smiled and stood on her tip-toes to kiss him when her cell phone went off. She lowered herself and picked her phone up. It was her mother. "Hang on," she said. "Gotta take this."

She swiped her answer button and held her phone up to her ear. "Hey Mom," she greeted.

"Casey?" The smiled slipped off Casey's face at the sound of her mother's terrified voice.

"Mom, what's wrong?" Casey asked, alarmed.

"It's your Father. He's outside the house."

-x-

And that concludes chapter twenty! A little bit of action mixed with fluff (and most of you seem to enjoy the fluff.) But not everything is fluffy in Gotham as we being to delve into Casey's background.

Reviews, favorites, and follows are love! See ya in chapter twenty-one!