Grace's cramps were worse today.

Why didn't these mercenaries have chocolate in their rations?

The dried fruit helped get rid of her sugar cravings, but she still wanted something more fulfilling.

The eating area didn't even have sugar for the porridge.

She dressed warmly for today. The one good thing about packing for a trip to Ireland was that she had packed several jumpers and thick fluffy socks.

She wore her pyjama bottoms instead of her jeans.

At this point, she was running out of clean clothes. She had washed some of her clothes in the sink, but that wasn't the most practical solution.

The courtesy knock sounded at the door.

"Did you miss me, princess?" Barsad called as he entered the room.

"In a way. Bartov didn't have your warm demeanour."

He smirked a little but then his eyes began examining her.

She began to fidget a little.

"Do I have something on my face?"

"Your brother was…difficult yesterday. He's refusing to work until he speaks with you. Alone."

"Okay. That's fine."

"We can't allow that, but we will allow you to speak in Irish as a compromise."

Grace frowned at that. Why would that be a compromise? "Alright." But she wanted to talk to her brother, so she didn't question their reasoning.

"Bane and I will supervise."

"Okay. When can I see him?"

"Come with me."

She followed him outside and they passed a room she knew was a makeshift medical centre.

"Do you think I could get a couple of painkillers?"

Barsad sighed a little, but didn't question her request.

"Sure. This way."

They walked inside and she was able to grab a packet she would normally buy in the pharmacy.

"Do you need some water?" The man who ran the medical centre asked.

"Thank you." She accepted the bottle and followed Barsad out. As she was leaving she heard the man say something in another language which prompted someone else in the room to laugh and jeer. Barsad tensed beside her.

"What are they saying?"

"They're just messing about. Ignore them."

Grace frowned, but didn't ask him to elaborate.

They arrived in the main hub. The work these men were doing carried on as if she wasn't there. They barely looked in her direction.

Patrick stood up from his perched position on a railing to stand beside her.

"You have five minutes." Bane appeared behind her out of the blue.

Herself and Patrick stood in a secluded alcove with Barsad and Bane two steps away.

"No bullshit, Grace. What is going on with you and Mask-Face over there?"

Grace automatically translated the Irish in her head. There was no real translation for 'Bane' in Irish. But Patrick obviously didn't want Bane to know that they were discussing him.

"Why are you acting like this? You sound psychotic."

"Answer me before I fucking lose it."

"Nothing is going on between us. What's wrong with you?"

"Then why are you always in his room? Why are you always in there for an hour? Sometimes you stay longer than that."

She froze. If he was trying to insinuate that something salacious was going on with her and Bane, he was barking up the wrong tree.

One look over at Bane and his steely gaze halted any admission about her singing.

"Nothing is going on. You have to let this go. I would tell you if there was."

"But this has been going on for weeks."

"Are you spying on me?"

"Of course I am. I don't want a repeat of the Jack Ryder incident." He gritted out.

She froze as the memory resurfaced.

Grace tried to control her breathing.

Bane took a step forward and Barsad gave them both an odd look as she began to paw at her stomach. Her cramps were getting worse.

"It's nothing like that." She felt the tears she had been trying to keep at bay, mist her eyes slightly. "You promised you wouldn't bring that up again."

"You're my sister. And I failed to protect you. I won't let that happen again."

"It wasn't your fault. You were in jail when it happened."

"It shouldn't have happened, full stop!" She flinched at his raised voice.

Barsad's hand clenched around his gun. She needed to calm Patrick down.

"Patrick, please."

"Why was your towel covered in blood yesterday? And why do you keep clenching your stomach."

"Um… I asked to use the shower, but it was full of his men, and he suggested that I could use his." Patrick's eyes grew dangerous.

"Did he now?"

"Yes…but then I got my period and used the towel to…you know." As soon as she spoke, the blush she'd been expecting, covered her brother's face.

"And what did he do?" His eyes shifted to Bane.

"He got me my stuff from my room. He was very understanding about the whole situation."

His eyes narrowed again. Like he didn't believe her.

"So, nothing else happened?"

She thought back to the singing and watching him sleep. Lying had never been one of her strengths.

"Nothing happened."

"Your time's up." Barsad interrupted them.

The pair sighed despondently, but walked back to Barsad and Bane.

"Are you finished moping?" Barsad asked Patrick.

"For now." He ground out and moved back to his station.

"Good, you may get back to work. Miss Fitzgerald is free to remain here or head back to her room." Bane announced as he retreated to follow Patrick.

"What's it to be, princess?"

"I'll stay up here." She wanted fresh air. Well as fresh as it could get in a sewer.

"Someone dropped off some of your items after Bane ordered another trip to your apartment."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. He managed to bring several books."

"Which ones?" She couldn't help the smile that graced her face.

"I think they're called romance novels." His face twisted slightly.

There was a bag on the desk and sure enough it contained around 10 books.

"Well at least they're good time killers." She knew exactly why he cringed at the word 'romance'.

"Don't let your brother catch you reading those. He's already getting an ulcer from all the attention you're getting from the other men."

"It's not my job to make him comfortable. And you shouldn't be shaming me for reading these books. I don't comment on the magazines some of your men pass around." She caught a glimpse of a few before.

He blinked slowly at her.

"Well, that's put me in my place." He had the decency to look apologetic. "I don't partake in those magazines." He added quickly.

"Too sticky?" She smirked.

"Don't be so crude… but yeah, pretty much." He cringed.

"Why don't they use the internet like everyone else?"

"An incident occurred not too long ago, now internet entertainment must be strictly censored. Hence, the dirty magazines."

"And you had the gall to snigger at my romance books." She laughed.

"What's that one about?" He asked when she opened a book.

"It's a regency romance. You know, with lords, ladies, corsets, horse riding-"

"Actual riding." He winked.

"It's tasteful, trust me."

"Hey Bars! Come over here, will ya?" O'Brien called.

"Stay there." He warned gruffly. The smile he wore earlier was gone.

"You don't have to snip at me, I'm not going anywhere." She went back to her book.

She watched him begin chatting with a tall red head. They were going over some blueprints. She tried to look over her book at them. Curious as ever to know what they're doing.

She saw more men than usual. They carried huge duffle bags throughout the central area.

Patrick was using a tablet and seemed to be up against the clock. He was moving at double speed and snapping at anyone that came near him.

After her chat with Patrick, she knew that it might be best if she distanced herself from Bane. Their pseudo-friendship had been one of the only bright spots in this dark sewer.

But her brother was more important. If he went off the rails again, there was no doubt that he would get himself killed.

A quick scan for a clock showed her it was just gone 2 in the afternoon.

In another hour they would bring her for lunch. Then they'd leave her in her room and possibly collect her again for dinner.

Then Bane would collect her between 8 and midnight.

She would tell him tonight that she couldn't sing anymore and hope that he accepts it without questioning her reasons.

Xxx

"He believes I have harmed Miss Fitzgerald." Bane revealed.

"Why is that?" Barsad asked as they watched the news coverage of Harvey Dent Day.

"Because of the blood on her towel."

"And the blood was from…?" Barsad raised a brow.

"I will need someone to gather more items for our next supply run. Women's items."

"Women's items… oh right." Barsad copped on to Bane's way of speaking.

"Make sure you get a list from Miss Fitzgerald."

"I'm sure I can guess what she needs." Barsad did not want to have to ask her anything about…women's issues.

"I will order you if I have to."

With a sigh Barsad stood to speak with Grace. Better to get it over and done with.

"Did Patrick say anything else?"

"He has been spying on my activities with Grace."

Barsad frowned. Since when did he call her Grace and not Miss Fitzgerald? And what exactly was going on that day she went into his room?

"I'll keep an eye on him."

"Be discreet, he cannot know that I translated most of what was said."

"Will do."

"I also need you to give me any and all information on a Jack Ryder when you are finished."

"Of course, sir." Barsad frowned, but didn't question Bane.

Barsad made his way down to the cafeteria. He spotted Patrick sitting with O'Brien, Bartov, Chaplin and Jaques.

"Okay so fuck, marry, kill. Harley Quinn, Wonder Woman or… Grace Fitzgerald?"

All the men laughed. Except Patrick.

"You know that joke gets funnier every round." He spoke sarcastically through gritted teeth.

"It does, doesn't it?" Jaques smirked.

"Marry Grace, fuck Quinn and kill Wonder Woman." Bartov decided.

"Couldn't agree more. That Quinn must be a beast if she's managed the Joker after all these years."

"Okay Fitzgerald, your turn."

"I'm not in the mood for games."

"You're no fun. Stop being a wet blanket for once." O'Brien groaned.

"Hey! You all have work to do." Barsad announced.

"Wait. I have three." Patrick stared at Barsad with a determined look.

Everyone looked at him.

"Fuck, Marry, Kill. Poison Ivy, Vicky Vale and…Miranda Tate."

All the men around the table froze. Including Barsad.

Did Patrick find out about that too? This was getting more dangerous the more responsibility they gave the man.

He wasn't even initiated into the ranks yet.

Patrick watched all the men stiffen.

"What's wrong with all of you? Tate and Vale are gorgeous, and Ivy will kill you in the end, but I'm sure she'll make it worth it."

"I think Bars is right. We should get back to work." The four men stood and didn't bother to wait for Patrick as they left.

"I guess I'll join them." He muttered.

Barsad blocked the door, preventing Patrick from leaving.

"What's got you spooked?" Patrick narrowed his eyes.

Barsad tried to read him. To see if he knew. He saw what he thought was genuine curiosity in the man's eyes.

He knew he was waiting for him to say something.

"Why are you so worried about your sister?"

"I'm her brother, it's my job. And were you not here just now listening to them talking about her?"

"She is safer down here than she would be up there. You should know that."

"Gotham is a pit of danger and misery. It always has been. But it's not the worst place in the world. You want to destroy Gotham because you mean to cleanse evil from the world." He scoffed. "Evil is everywhere. She is just as unsafe here as she would be in any other city. The world will never be good. Therefore, your work will be incomplete after that bomb goes off." Patrick sneered.

And with that Patrick pushed past Barsad.

Well, that didn't give him any answers. If Patrick knew about Talia, then the mission would be over before it began.

Xxx

"Mr Sionis, you're free to go." Officer Blake opened the cell door and begrudgingly gave him back his personal items. Who knows what he did to buy that Rolex?

"So, I'm no longer a suspect?"

"We have received evidence that exonerates you, Mr Sionis. We are satisfied that you had nothing to do with her disappearance."

"I could have told you that." He snipped.

"A witness, with a signed affidavit, claimed that you threatened to put her on a 'list', whatever that means. CCTV confirmed that you had a tense exchange. And you had reasons for wanting retribution."

"I love my son, but I'm not the kind of father that would kidnap his teacher over a stupid extra-credit assignment."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." Blake offered his hand as a peace offering.

Sionis snorted at his attempt to clear the air.

"You'll be hearing from my lawyer, Officer Blake. Good day." The man signed out and met with one of his bodyguards that waited in the lobby.

Everyone knew the man was a crook. But in this case. He was innocent.

He could still hear the cries of their new suspect in the missing person's case.

"I didn't do it!" He shouted over and over.

"Shut it, Mahony!" Gilmore whacked his baton on the bars. The suspect whimpered back in despair. "We have you on CCTV beating the crap out of Grace Fitzgerald. Just tell us what you did with her and maybe you won't have completely fucked up your life. Again."

"I told you someone knocked me out and stole my uniform. That's not me in the video."

"Yeah right." He laughed and went to leave the holding pen. "Let us know when you're ready to confess."

Blake watched the young man curl into a ball.

A previous conviction for aggravated assault didn't bode well for him.

He was most likely their suspect, but there was something that bothered Blake.

"Does it strike you as odd that the moment we get a warrant for his arrest, a video is sent to us 'anonymously' proving that Sionis had nothing to do with it?"

"Who cares. We got the guy in the end."

"But what about Grace? She's still missing."

"Don't know. She could turn up in the river like all the others recently." The Lieutenant's blasé attitude irked Blake. "Have you seen that her brother is missing too?" He asked.

That was news to Blake.

"Who reported it?"

"The landlord. He was pissed off waiting for his rent to be paid and had to break into his apartment. Turns out Patrick Fitzgerald hasn't been seen in over three weeks."

"I wonder if they're connected?"

"Doubtful." The man yawned. "If you want it, you can have it." Gilmore threw the file onto Blake's desk.

"Why is it doubtful?"

"The guy's a crook. Former Dent Act convict. He probably jumped ship and left Gotham."

"Why would he leave? His sister's missing."

"If you find out, let me know." Gilmore leant back on the chair, seemingly going to sleep.

Blake read Patrick Fitzgerald's file and he was another former Blackgate prisoner. He worked for the mob once upon a time, but hasn't had much work since he got out.

No recent bank statements, employment status or significant other in his life. This was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack.