As they raced back to the house, Barbara found herself checking her watch at least every other minute. Each agonizing second that ticked closer to seven felt like the trickle of sand from a quickly depleting hourglass. Only this hourglass was her father's life, and each grain that fell was another breath lost.
"Relax," Richard said over the sharp jerks and shudders of the subway cart. "Your dad isn't wealthy, so he should be safe."
"But he's still powerful!" Barbara grimaced. "Just like all those other men."
"Yes, but it was their money that probably put them six feet under," he pointed out. "If Pamela couldn't get her hands on her fortune until now, how do you think she survived?"
Although the fluorescent bulb above flickered with the last of its life, its dim light still stung Barbara's eyes. Shutting them, she clenched her fist and struck it against the side of her chair. "Damn it! Can't this thing go any faster?"
Richard glanced at the faded map across from him. "Still got one more stop to go."
She let out a heavy sigh, slowly opening her eyes once more. "You saw what happened to all those other men. If my dad stays with her, he'll end up as just another obituary forgotten in a newspaper somewhere."
He gave a sympathetic nod, his usually playful eyes softening. "Why do you think Pamela's with him then? If not for the money, then what?"
"I don't know." She turned to gaze out the grimy window. "I've been wondering that myself."
The two of them went quiet as the train continued to tremble and quake over the tracks, its screeching wheels the only sound to fill the air. It wasn't until Richard tapped her shoulder and told her they had arrived did the silence finally shatter into pieces.
The station was dead despite the early hour, with only the occasional rat and homeless straggler found walking around. Ignoring them, Barbara and Richard continued out of the abandoned station and into the pouring rain.
"Here." Richard offered his coat to her, but Barbara shook her head.
"No, you need it. You'll get sick."
"Trust me, I won't." He smiled before placing it over her. "You might though."
"Thanks." She tried to smile as she pulled it over her head. A part of her wanted to give it back, knowing he needed it more than she did. But the other part of her wanted to wrap herself in its warmth and take in the woodsy scent left behind. Had he always smelled this good?
Deciding she didn't want to part from such an intoxicating fragrance, she pulled the coat even closer to her body. An instant wave of comfort came over her, almost as if the coat was a hug she hadn't realized she desperately needed.
But that feeling was soon short-lived once they reached the front door, opening it to find the towering figure of James Gordon waiting for them on the other side. Before Barbara could even utter a word, James reached out and pulled her to the side, away from Richard.
"You think you can come to my house and disrespect me like that?" James marched up to him, his nostrils flaring like a bull.
"Wha—What?" Richard stumbled back.
"Dad, what is going on?" Barbara demanded.
"Stay out of this, Barbara!" James glared at her before turning back to Richard. "As for you, get the hell out of my house!"
Horrified that her dad might actually hurt him, Barbara rushed in between them, grabbing a hold of her dad's arm. "Dad! Tell me what is going on!"
"I'm sorry, Barbara," a gentle voice said from down the hall. "But I had to tell your father what I saw."
Whipping her head to the side, Barbara watched as Pamela emerged from behind her dad, an apologetic look plastered across her face. If she didn't know any better, Barbara would've thought Pamela was actually sincere. But that woman was not capable of human emotion.
It took every ounce of willpower not to reach out and grab Pamela. "What... What did you see?"
It was Pamela's eyes that gave her away. Her face might have been filled with regret, but it was her eyes that told Barbara she was not in the least bit sorry for what she was about to say. "At first, I heard the moans from your bedroom. Thinking you might have fallen, I rushed over and saw that boy on top of you, touching you. His mouth was on your neck, his hands were making their way down—"
"That's enough." James cut her off, returning his attention back to Richard. "You disgusting piece of—Argh!" he growled as he backed him into a corner. "Never come back here again!"
Yanking him by the collar, James dragged Richard to the door before shoving him back outside into the rain. Richard didn't even have the chance to defend himself before James slammed the door shut in his face.
"As for you, young lady!" He turned around and crossed his arms over his heaving chest. "I taught you better than that! You know better than to act so recklessly! What were you thinking?"
"None of that happened! Pamela is—" Barbara started to protest before Pamela suddenly came up from behind and rested a pale hand on her shoulder.
"Darling, what did you expect bringing that boy in here?" She pursed her lips together in a frown. "It's not all Barbara's fault. You know how teenage boys are." Pamela glanced down at Barbara with a tight-lipped smile. "I did you a favor. Guys are nothing but trouble."
It was as if the dam holding back all her anger and bitterness finally broke. Of all things, this was what sent her over the edge, a stupid comment about men. Unable to listen to any more bullshit from this woman, Barbara looked Pamela straight in the eye and snorted. "You would know, right? You've been with plenty of them!"
Pamela winced as if she had been slapped in the face. Expecting the same in return, Barbara waited for the inevitable sting. But that pain never came. Instead, something entirely different happened, something that made Barbara stiffen. A glassy look had come over Pamela's eyes and for a second, Barbara thought she might actually cry.
"Barbara!" Her father's sharp voice drew her gaze away from the sulking woman. "What has gotten into you? Apologize at once, young lady!"
"No." Her upper lip curled into a sneer. No way was she going to back down now. She had kept quiet for far too long. Had been the perfect, obedient daughter for even longer. "You say you taught me better than that? That I knew better? Well, I only learned from the best! Guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree, Dad!"
The room went deathly silent as James stared at her from across the hall. His hands trembled at his sides as they tightened into fists, and a thick vein bulged against his temple. "Go... Go to your room," he choked out through the tense silence.
"Where else would I go?" Barbara spun around and rolled to her room. With a heavy slam, she shut the door behind her and moved towards her bed. After locking her wheelchair in place, she practically threw herself on top and sank into the comfy mattress.
As she thought back to her father's stunned reaction, she couldn't help but smile. She knew she didn't feel nearly as bad as she should've, but she didn't care. Since the moment she found out about Pamela, she had to bite her tongue. But now, after more than a week of keeping quiet, it felt good to finally get that off her chest. Maybe now her dad would stop being such an idiot and see Pamela for who she really was. A liar. A manipulator. And a potential serial killer.
She must've fallen asleep sometime in the night because the next thing she knew she was lying on her side, a spot of drool on the pillow under her.
Barbara closed her eyes and listened to the soft patter of the rain against the window. Rain in Gotham was usually accompanied by crashes of thunder and flashes of lightning. The intense storms would rattle the house, keeping her awake all night. But now, as the rain poured gently above her, she let its rhythmic sound lull her back to sleep.
That is, until a sudden tapping interrupted it.
Thinking it was just the rain, Barbara ignored the sound and tried to fall back asleep. But when it became apparent that it wasn't from a heavier and increased flow of raindrops, she sat up and turned to the window.
At first, she wasn't sure what she was seeing; a dark mass beneath the orange glow of the streetlight. But then the tapping started again, and she realized it was a hand pressed against the window.
Letting out a shrill gasp, Barbara watched as its elongated finger struck the clouded glass. Before she could scream for her dad, a blurred face appeared in the window and said, "Barbara, it's me!"
"Richard?" she wheezed, trying to still her beating heart. "Wha—What are you doing?"
"I need you to open the window." He turned his head to the side, his blue eyes the only part of him visible against the foggy window. "And then I'll explain everything."
"Okay, hold on." Barbara carefully moved into the wheelchair. No matter how many times she did it, she couldn't shake the image of her falling. All it took was one misstep and she would be sent tumbling to the floor.
But today was not that day. After unlocking the wheelchair, Barbara rolled over to the window and undid the hatch. "Okay, Richard. What the hell is going on?" She squinted up at him as the cold rain whipped against her face.
"What? You didn't think you'd seen the last of me, right?" He smiled down at her.
Seriously? He woke her up just so he could reenact the balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet?
"I'm going back to bed." Barbara started to close the window, but the sudden look on his face gave her pause. His expression had turned serious, something that made Barbara deeply uncomfortable.
"I'm going to need you to come with me," he said. "There's a car over there waiting for us."
Shifting her gaze to where he pointed, Barbara leaned out the window and saw a black limousine parked a few feet down the street. A cloud of exhaust was coming out the back end below the brake lights, and she could hear its engine rumbling softly in the still of the night.
"We don't have much time, Barbara." Richard's grave tone snapped her attention back to him. "And don't forget your backpack."
Fed up with his cryptic answers and suspicious of his intentions, Barbara started to roll backward. "Go where exactly?"
"Barbara... Do you trust me?" His eyes softened as if they were pleading with her to believe in him.
As she watched him extend his hand out, Barbara felt her mind instantly go blank. "I..."
"Hey, what's taking so long?" A juvenile voice called out from the outside. Before either of them could answer, another face appeared in the window right beside Richard's. It belonged to a teenage boy.
Despite looking about five years younger, the boy was nearly Richard's height. Looking at them side-by-side, Barbara could see some resemblance between the two. Although they both shared the same lean, athletic build and black hair, that's where the similarities ended. While Richard's hair was smooth and fell into his eyes, this boy's hair was short and unkempt. Where Richard's eyes were blue and full of life, this boy's eyes were green and appeared dead on the inside. Even the boy's skin was a little darker than Richard's.
"Jay, I told you to wait in the car." Richard frowned at him.
The boy gave a wide, overdramatic shrug. "Thought you might've needed some help."
With a sigh, Richard turned back to Barbara. "Can you turn your chair around, so I can lift you up?"
Barbara nodded and grabbed her bag before whirling her chair around. Was she stupid for doing this? She didn't even know where she was being taken. But she would be lying if she didn't admit she was curious. Or enjoyed the thrill of going with Richard and doing something against her dad's wishes.
As she was lifted in the air, Barbara was forced to clutch her armrests to keep from flying out. Did she trust Richard? That was the real question and one she didn't have an answer for. Yet, he had been nothing but kind to her. He had never given her a reason to distrust him. In fact, it was the opposite.
"Jason, stop standing around and help me!"
"All right, all right." The adolescent angst was apparent in the younger teen's voice, and something Barbara would have normally chuckled at if it hadn't been for the stabbing pain in her heart upon hearing the name. She imagined that would happen quite a lot from now on. Wherever her friend was, she only hoped he was alive.
"Thanks for not banging up my chair," she told the pair after they set her down on the concrete without so much as a jolt.
Jason's eyes scanned her from head to toe. "You must be the girl Golden Boy here keeps talking about."
"Oh my God, Jason!" Richard slapped a hand across his face. "Go back to the car!"
"If it means getting out of the rain, then sure!" Jason sprinted off towards the running car before hopping into the front seat.
"I guess he's right. We probably should get out of this rain." Richard started to push Barbara down the slick pavement.
"Can you tell me where we're going now?" She brushed a wet strand of hair behind her ear.
"We're going to go see Bruce." He turned to her after opening the rear door. "I'm going to carry you in. Is that okay?"
"Yes," she breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck. Taking in that familiar woodsy scent from before, Barbara closed her eyes and let it wash over her. But before she knew it, his arms were peeled off of her and replaced by the rough feel of leather underneath. Not wanting him to see her disappointment, Barbara shifted her head to the side as Richard folded up the wheelchair.
However, someone else seemed to be keeping a close eye on her. "Why the long face?" Jason peered back from the passenger's side, his eyes gleaming at her in the dark.
"It's been a long day." Barbara sighed, hoping that would be a sufficient answer for the brat. It was not, of course.
Jason cocked his head. "What happened?"
"Her future stepmom got me kicked out," Richard answered as he slid in beside her, giving her a wink. "Anyway, as you've seen, this is my younger brother, Jason. And next to him, driving this luxurious vehicle, is Alfred."
An elderly man wearing an old-fashioned valet hat turned and dipped his head. "Hello."
Barbara waved back with a nervous smile. "Hello, I'm Barbara."
"Yes, Master Richard and Master Bruce have spoken about you before." Without another word, the man turned back around and shifted the limo into drive.
"Oh, um." Barbara glanced at Richard. Was she just the talk of the town now? Who wasn't telling people about her at this point? "Speaking of Bruce, what does he want to tell me?"
"Who knows?" Richard shrugged. "You can never tell with that guy."
"Oh, that's for sure." Jason snickered.
It was moments like these that made Barbara pause and reconsider her relationship with the Wayne family. Sure, she might eventually trust Richard, but Bruce? It didn't even sound like his own children trusted him.
Before long, the limo arrived in front of the Wayne Tower, and Barbara suspected it was because Alfred had been speeding. There was no way they had gotten there that fast without going ten miles over the speed limit otherwise.
Placing his icy hand over hers, Richard turned to her and asked, "Are you ready?"
Barbara nodded, not really sure that she was. "Yeah."
Richard climbed out of the limo and took out the wheelchair, quickly unfolding it. "Here, I got you." He scooped her up into his arms before gently setting her down in the chair.
"We'll be back," he called to Alfred as he rolled Barbara towards the front doors. Her heart must have been thumping louder than she realized since Richard looked down at her and laughed. "Wow, are you okay? It sounds like you're about to have a heart attack."
"Sorry, it's just..." She trailed off as she spotted the empty reception desk, which was now a long, obscure rectangle in the shadows. God, this place looked like something out of a horror movie without any lights on. While they made their way towards the elevators, she almost expected some psycho in a mask to lunge at them from around the corner.
As if things couldn't get any worse, Richard had to be the bearer of bad news. "Barbara, you're going to have to go alone."
"You're kidding."
"I'm sorry, but Bruce specifically said you had to see him by yourself." He offered her a small smile as he knelt beside her. "Don't be nervous. I'll be right here waiting."
Seeing no other way around this, Barbara sighed and entered the elevator. "Let's just get this over with," she muttered, hitting the top floor. As the elevator doors started to slide shut, Richard gave her a thumbs-up, all while keeping that same smile on his face.
With a loud ding, the elevator came to a stop and Barbara rolled out into the hall. If it was dark before in the daytime, then it was pitch-black now.
If it hadn't been for the light seeping beneath the door in front of her, she would have crashed right into it. Raising her knuckles, Barbara stopped herself in mid-air before she could knock on the door. Should she just go in? Or did he expect her to knock? Why was she hesitating so much lately? This was not a life or death decision, but she was sure acting like it was.
Remembering the look on Bruce's face when Mr. Cobblepot burst in, Barbara decided she should knock first.
"Come in," a stern voice boomed from the other side.
Great, it seemed like she was getting the cranky and serious Bruce Wayne tonight.
Pushing the door open, Barbara's eyes went straight to the empty chair across the room. If it hadn't been for the soft crackle of the fire, she would have never found him standing there in front of the burning flames.
"Why did you call me here?" Barbara eyed him warily from the door.
"I heard what happened tonight." He kept his back to her as he answered, making his already unreadable expression now impossible. "It was smart of her to play on a father's anxiety over his daughter's sexuality."
Barbara blinked. "That's why you called me here? Look, Richard and I didn't—"
"Have you learned the truth about Pamela?" His heels clicked against the marble as he turned to face her, his sharp gaze mirroring that of a predator preparing to pounce on its prey.
She swallowed. "Yes."
The light from the fire glinted in his eyes as he waited for her to continue. "Go on."
"She's a serial killer! I mean, I already suspected it with the disappearances. But I found that she kills her husbands too." She reached for the notebook in her bag and flipped it open. "I have everything here. Dates, aliases, cities. It's all here."
"I know. I looked into it too." He gestured for her to put the book away. "I first knew something was wrong when I met her. It was at the same party your father met her."
This was a story she hadn't heard before. Anything that involved her dad and that night instantly got her attention. Barbara rolled up to him and leaned in, wanting to get as close as she could in case she were to miss something. "How did you know?"
"I'm suspicious of anyone who flirts with more than one man at a time. Especially if those men include the police commissioner and the D.A."
Barbara grimaced. "Harvey Dent."
Bruce nodded, turning back around and tossing a log into the now dying fire. "Another close friend of mine. Another friendship she wants to destroy."
"But why? That's what I don't understand!" She ran her fingers through her damp hair. "Because of what your father did to her?"
Bruce's fingers twitched from behind him. "It doesn't matter what her motives are, only that she intends to destroy me and my company. But that's not the reason why I called you here." He paused to reach inside his jacket, easing something out of the pocket and into his hand. "This is why I called you."
"What—What is that?" Barbara startled back at what looked to be a wooden stake with its end sharpened.
"I need you to drive this through Pamela's heart while she's asleep."
For a moment, she expected him to start laughing and tell her it was just a joke. But the longer he stared at her with that unflinching frown, she knew he wasn't joking.
"No way! You're out of your freaking mind!" She turned to leave, already debating if she should call the cops or the doctors at Arkham Asylum about this man.
"If you want to protect your father—your family—then you must do as I ask," he called out after her. "Each day that passes only further seals your father's fate. You know what happens to Pamela's husbands. She should be collecting her inheritance soon, thanks to Harvey. Once she gets the estate, she has no use for James anymore."
"Do you hear yourself right now?" Barbara hissed. "You're asking me to kill someone! What am I supposed to do afterwards, huh? Do you plan on being the crime scene cleaner too?"
"Once you plunge it into her, her body will turn to dust. There will be nothing to clean up."
Barbara groaned into her hands. "This is insane."
Something resembling irritation twinkled in his blue eyes. "Tell me, Ms. Gordon, how did you plan on stopping Pamela? Because this notebook of yours would never hold up in court. Pamela knew how to cover her tracks. She made sure no photos of her existed. Without a shred of evidence besides that notebook, you would be lucky if you weren't laughed right out of the police station." Bruce lifted the stake out to her. "This is the only way."
"You really are insane! No, I'm out. I can't do this." Shaking her head, Barbara spun back around and continued for the door. She was just about to yank the handle back when he spoke again.
"I could give you back your ability to walk."
The wheels from her chair screeched as she came to an immediate halt. "That's impossible. I can't walk again," she murmured.
"I have the resources that would allow you to." The words left his mouth dripping with honey and possibilities. Barbara shut her eyes, imagining a world where she could walk again. Was it really that far off?
"The money."
No, it wasn't.
"The technology."
Not at all.
"If you really want to get Pamela out of your lives, I can help you. But I am a businessman, first and foremost. And my help works like a transaction." His voice sounded so close, as if he were right beside her, whispering into her ear. "It has to be you."
Barbara turned, letting out a gasp when she saw that Bruce was indeed standing right behind her. How he would have approached without making a sound was near impossible.
Still clutching the stake within his grasp, he held it out to her once more. "Are you willing to accept my help, Ms. Gordon?" His eyes glistened with anticipation.
It was at that moment as Barbara reluctantly took the stake into her own hands did she realize she was wrong earlier. The real question hadn't been if she could trust Richard, but if she could trust Bruce.
Because if she did, it would make her a murderer.