It's allergies, I swear! I don't get sick, I don't flus, I get sniffles and get over it... Why are you laughing? Fuck you, yes I said sniffles!
Her boys were the ones to pick her up. It was suppose to only be Marcus, but Gary and Kyle caught wind and tagged along, with offerings of liquor and greasy snacks. Once the beat up Volkswagon was loaded up with passengers and the "gifts" Lex had so graciously left on the plane (The Chef was seriously beginning to contemplate buying a dresser), they made their way onto the dark and dirty streets of Gotham. Metropolis had been nice, but art-deco grey and gangs was the Chef's home now, and it was good to be back. Kyle and Gary sat in the back, snatching food from each other, asking a million questions like the grown children they were. The Chef, in an unusually good mood, answered each one readily, munching on fries and sipping whiskey straight from the bottle (technically illegal, but who really cared in Gotham). The mood was light and jovial, jokes exchanged and ripped on each other and themselves. The Chef was caught up on the day to day. Business was still good despite her being gone, no thefts or dine and dashes, the unruly patrons on their best behavior while she was gone. The Rogues hadn't been anywhere near the diner while she was on her vacation, which was odd, but not a surprise. Her boys were having the time of their lives when she let slip that she was now an aunt, calling her many variations of Auntie 'Lexie', 'Ally', 'X', 'Chefy'. Alexandera quickly put a stop to that by turning on the radio, the quartet singing along and head banging to Bohemian Rhapsody. They reached Hodge Podge in good time, Marcus occasionally blowing through red lights.
The blinds were closed, belying the fact it was filled to the brim with men and women, hookers and thieves, drug dealers and thugs, all on their best behavior while Hodge-Podge's employees were gone, as they hollered and ate, music loud from the juke box. The police would give anything to figure out how this was possible, allowing criminal free reign of any establishment, without any of them destroying it.
The ruckus fell silent for a few moments when the door slammed open by the Chef's hand, cold January wind blowing into the diner as the criminals of Gotham stared at her, silent, in awe. Alexandera felt like Norm in the show Cheers, as when she walked into her kingdom, the cheers of 'Mama Chef' caused a ripple of joy to slip through her, unlike any she could really remember ever filling her in her life. It briefly flittered through the Chef's mind that, this was good. This was her happiness, that she drudged up from the mud and blood of the city and her life. The loud cheers. The smell of spices and bleach, sweat and gun powder. The sounds of insults and laughs. Tazer growling when he missed his mouth when he tossed his food. Mouse sitting off in the corner, smiling over his empty bowl of last soup.
And for the fist time in a very, very long time she didn't feel the urge to run.
She was happy to be home.
This was home.
There was a line out the door for most of the day, once the word got out the Chef was back. The tip jar turned into a tip mop bucket, filled to the brim with cash, and watches, and jewelry. Gary and Tazer assured the Chef that anything not cash would be handled appropriately. There was no midday break as was normal, the Chef and her Boys working through the eternal rush, to go boxes dwindling. When it looked like they would have to cease take out orders, someone walked in with stacks of togo containers. Bob, The Joker's right hand man, walked through the kitchen's swing door, placing the boxes down on the back prep counter, before rolling up his sleeves.
"Keep cooking, Chef. I'll plate." Alexandera huffed, flipping a burger.
"Wash your hands, put on a hair net." And with that, the rest of the day was a blur, welcome homes, ticket numbers, music, laughter, and the ever unceasing cry of the Chef crying out,
"Order!"
It was evening by the time the scum of the city all had their fill of food. Tazer and Gary left with backpacks full of the tips that couldn't be deposited into an ATM. Marcus handed the Chef a mug of coffee and scotch before heading back into the dish pit to help Kyle. Alexandera swigged from the mug, sighing in content. Bob sat across from her, unrolling his sleeves and smiling at the blue haired woman.
"Welcome back."
"One hell of a welcome party." The Chef shuffled into the booth, leaning her back against the wall as she propped her feet up. For most, a rush in the food service business was awful, busy, and stressful. For Alexandera, it was her element. The chaotic rush brought out a serene calm to the Chef, one of the few situations where she could mentally check out, relying on instinct. "How'd you know I was back? Or them for that matter?"
"Twitter." Coffee spilled onto the table as the Chef coughed out in surprise.
"What?"
"Hodge-Podge has a twitter account. Someone set it up so the rest of us knows what your cooking for the day."
"Lazy bastards can't bother to call or walk in to see?"
"No." Both shared a laugh, as Bob pulled his phone out, showing the account for the diner on social media. It was mostly tweets about the menu, but more recently it was links to the photo's taken of her in Metropolis that her customers recognized.
"Gonna make them delete those, but I guess this okay." Alexandera passed the phone back to Bob. "I'm gonna say it's a safe bet I'll be having another welcome back party tonight, huh?"
"Actually, Friday, Harley said that you might need a day to readjust to Gotham, Crane agreed." Alexandera tilted her head.
"Oh..."
"Were you hoping to see them?"
"I'm just surprised. Both at the fact that they are letting me have a day, and that they thought of it."
"Harley and Crane used to be therapists."
"So?" Bob chuckled.
"I'll pick you up at seven on Friday. Your goons can handle things here."
"They're not my goons."
"Whatever you say, Mama Chef."
It started as a scratchy throat on Wednesday. Alexandera chocked it up to the colder, wetter weather of Gotham. Marcus was sweet enough to keep a kettle on the stove with a constant supply of hot water for tea. Everytime he suggested the Chef to sit and take a break, to rest, she waved him off with her spatula, telling him she was fine. By the time it was the diners mid day break, the Chef was sweating through her Gotham Academy hat, and not from the heat of the kitchen, though she'd never admit it.
"Chef, you're sick." Marcus didn't bother closing the blinds, his mutiny already planned, he was just waiting for the final player to enter.
"'m not sick." Alexandera coughed in the back of her throat, trying to be discreet. "It's just a travel bug. I'll be fine in a few hours."
"Boss, don't get mad, but I know when someone's trying to pretend their not sick." Gary swung his hands up placatingly at his Boss, who glared heavily . Kyle swept in close with the cover of tea, before reaching out and resting his hand across the Chef's forehead, which was swatted away harshly.
"Yous sick, Boss." Kyle backed away from striking range. "Marc, she's burnin' up."
"I'm fine! Stop with the damn mother-henning!" The Chef wiped at her forehead, ignoring the sweat. "I'll be fine, I don't get sick."
"When's the last time you were sick?"
"When did How to Train Your Dragon come out?"
"What?"
"The last time I was sick was when I went to see that movie. Threw up on the people in front of me." Kyle gagged, while Marcus sighed into his hand.
"Boss, if your sick, we don't need you here. You need to be resting." A sleek car pulled up in front of the diner, and Marcus knew the cavalry had arrived.
"You can't tell me what to do, I pay your asses."
"True, but you can't with them." Alfred walked through the door, timing as impeccable as ever, with Damian in tow. The Chef groaned.
"Traitors." Alfred wasted no time with greetings, sweeping in to inspect the Chef.
"You look atrocious, Lady Chef." Damian stepped in, ignoring the Chef's childish mocking of his words. "Welcome back."
"You have a fever, you should be in bed." Alexandera pulled away, much less volatile towards the older man.
"I don't gotta fever, I'm just hot from the kitchen." Alfred glanced at Marcus, who nodded his head towards the thermostat, which read 71 degrees Fahrenheit.
"You most certainly are sick." Damian smiled, it was amusing to see Alfred scold someone. "Miss Fox, we will take you home, you will rest, you will not return here until you are adequately healthy." Alfred grabbed her thermos, serruptitiously smelling it for alcohol, and phone from Marcus.
"I gotta prep for the afternoon."
"Lady Chef, was it not you who said that one should not be in a kitchen when they are unwell, lest they spread the sickness?"
"Doesn't stop waitresses from showing up."
"Are you willing to ruin the credibility of your establishment due to your own stubbornness?" Alexandera slumped in the chair, she knew she was beat, outnumbered. Damian recognized this and went for the killing blow. "We have plenty of space at the manor, if need be we will take you with us so that I may moniter your recovery."
"You still know the way, right Alfred?"
Damian sat in the back seat next to the sleeping blue haired woman. She had dozed off not long after the car took to the streets, right in the middle of a sentence. Her fever was high, but he wasn't worried. Even if she did somehow find her end...
"I took the liberty of procuring medicine and ingredients to make soup." Alfred didn't even glance up into the rearview window. "Do you have any plans this afternoon? I'm sure she would appreciate a meal that wasn't take out." Damian nodded absently.
"I believe that chicken soup would be best."
"Yes, I brought roasted bones from home, I'm sure that we can put them to use." Damian nodded, nudging the drooling Chef off his shoulder. She mumbled angrily in her sleep, before curling up against the car window, smearing the glass.
The Chef had some trouble recalling what exactly happened when she was taken home. She remembered being half carried by two people. Warming soup filling her stomache, after she filled her bowl with half a pepper shakers worth of spice. She remembered being corralled into the bathroom where she took a hot shower, and being tucked in. She remembered falling asleep but not waking up much later to a small shadow sitting on the floor, telling her she needed more rest.
"No, gotta work." The Shadow pushed her down.
"You need rest." Her blanket was pulled up to her chin. "There is no work to be done when you are sick."
"Can't be sick."
"Even the strongest warrior can be brought to his knees by sickness."
"Cut out the sickness." The Shadow laughed.
"I could not in good conscience do that."
"Supe's doesn't get sick."
"Superman is not human, you are."
"Batman doesn't get sick." It was quiet for a time, the only sound being the fan by the Chef's bed, blowing feebly.
"I can assure you with certainty, Batman does get sick."
"He works." It hurt to move, limbs sore and heavy as the Chef adjusted, trying to get comfortable.
"He has Robin."
"You have your employees." It was quiet again. "What do you think of Batman?"
" 'E's stupid."
"Why do you think that?"
"Robin's gotta be a kid..."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Leotard's a give away..." The Chef coughed harshly, whining in pain. Something was pushed against her lips and when she opened her mouth, she winced at the acrid taste of medicine. "He's stupid."
"I suppose any normal child would be foolish to live that life."
"No, Bats. Putting a kid in danger." The Chef curled up when a shiver wracked her body. "Stupid."
"He may be stupid, but he is trying to save the city."
"City don't wanna be saved."
"The Rogues are dangerous."
"Ain't so bad." It was quiet again.
"Your life is in danger, with them free."
"Nooo…"
"Ukhti, you-?"
"They make good chili..."
"Ukhti, do you..." A hand settled on her shoulder, "Do you associate with them?"
"They're okay, saved Hodge Podge. Saved me." The grip on her shoulder tightened.
"Ukhti, why didn't you go to the police?" The Chef whimpered at the tight contact.
"Police bad."
"Batman came to you."
"Batman bad. I'd go to jail. I gotta stay 'live." The Chef felt sweat fall from her eyes. "They kept me alive."
"They're criminals."
"Me, too. Drink in streets. Stole to eat. Dined and dashed. I'm bad." The Shadow sighed, dabbing a cool clothe on the Chef's forehead.
"How did they save you?"
"Was gonna burn Hodge-Podge. Was gonna sit in it. They gave me money, they gave me people to cook for."
"You were going to kill yourself." It wasn't a question. The Chef laughed deliriously.
"Out of the fryer, into the fire!" Her laughs were unhinged, a new Shadow loomed in her doorway, watching her. "Hi!" The Chef couldn't get her arm free from the blankets, so she squirmed pathetically in greeting. The smaller of the shadow's nodded, and the taller left, cracking the door ajar.
"Ukhti, this is just slower suicide, they'll still kill you."
"Nope, won't die. Have people."
"Your employees are know Joker associates, they're not yours."
"Damian needs me." The Shadow drew in a ragged gasp. "Lexie needs me. Gene and Noriko. My boys. I won't die." The Chef finally wriggled a hand free wrapping it around the Shadow's waist, before rasping out a small tune.
"Ain't no rest for the wicked...
Money don't grow on trees...
I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed,
Ain't nothin' in this world free." The Chef coughed when she tried to reach a higher note not made for her alto voice.
"No I can't slow down, no I can't hold back,
Though you know I wish I could...
No there ain't no rest for the wicked
Until I close my eyes for good..."
"You are stupid, Ukhti." The Shadow heaved, voice more silent, more weighted.
"So's the government."
"What if you are caught?"
"Joker get's out quick."
"He still gets caught."
"I got friends in low places." The meaning of the words finally hit the Shadow. If he were in danger, she would owe a debt, just so she could save him.
"What if you die?"
"Nope. Won't die. Too stubborn." A playful growl left her lips, her grip tightening. "I'd come back, a ghost."
"That is vengeance, not stubbornness."
"Won't die."
"And if the people think you a villain?"
"Don't care, I'm good." A hand rested on her head proper, patting it softly.
"I suppose... you are, Ukhti. You are good."
"Alfred, pull the car over." The car pulled over on the long forest stretch of road leading to Wayne Manor. Alfred turned the car off before glancing at his charge in the rearview mirror. "Leave your phone in here." Damian left the back seat, stepping a ways from the vehical, scanning the trees.
"Is everything well, Master Damian?"
"She..." Damian rubbed a hand through his hair. Alfred guessed he picked it up from Miss Fox. "Alfred, she..."
"Your early assumptions were correct, I assume?"
"She has contact with them." The word was spat out, as Damian kicked the gravel. "She admitted to it!"
"Perhaps it was the sickness speaking."
"Do not insult my intelligence."
"I wasn't, Master Damian." The boy began to pace, kicking rocks from his path in anger.
"What do I do?" Damian looked pleadingly to his surrogate grandfather, seeking guidance as he used to when he trained with the League of Assassins.
"What do you think is best?"
"I should turn her in." Damian felt his breathing increase. "I should put my cape on, and drag her to the police. Father would expect me to."
"Master Damian, I didn't ask what your Father would do, or what you think you should do," Alfred kneeled, gripping the boy by the shoulders. "I asked what you think is best?"
"I don't have any proof..."
"No, sir, you don't."
"If I were to turn her in, there is a chance I could be putting her in danger..." Damian snorted, rubbing his nose. "She said that the police are bad."
"Some are, in Gotham."
"Alfred, she..." Damian hung his head, "She is not doing anything wrong, she is doing what she needs to... to survive. I did the same thing back when..."
"Do you want to turn her in? Not Robin, but as Damian."
"No."
"Why?"
"She is my Master." Alfred ignored the tears. "She still has too much to teach me..."
"Then I suppose you will just have to turn a blind eye." Damian scoffed a laugh, wiping his eyes.
"I had thought you would take Father's side."
"I don't agree with everything Bruce does."
"She called Batman stupid, for letting a child fight along side him."
"Then she is not completely off her rocker." Alfred and the boy shared a laugh. "The question is, what are you going to do now?"
Damian thought hard. He was Damian Wayne, the best of all the Robins. The strongest, the quickest, the smartest.
He was Smokebomb, apprentice to the best chef in Gotham.
He was Damian Al' Ghul. Trained at birth to be the best of The League of Assassins. Eradicators of evil, and protectors of good.
And the Chef, his Ukhti, was good.
God her mouth tasted like ass, and her body was so damn sore. Shivers still rolled over her skin, and she was tired. What had woken her up? She reached for her phone, only to find it missing from her charger. The faint whiff of something burning made the Chef leap into action. Pushing herself off the mattress, she really ought to buy a boxspring and frame, Alexandera wrapped her shoulders haphazardly in her comforter and braved her apartment. Her living room looked cleaner than it had when she had left the work the previous day. Her dirty clothes were in the barely used hamper, and the abundant liquor bottles were lined along the window. Humming could be heard from the kitchen. When the Chef turned the corner she saw Jervis pulling a tray from the oven, whatever he had been baking burnt beyond recognition.
"Jervis?" It still hurt to talk, and her voice came out scratchy and thin. It seemed she had lost her voice through the coarse of the night. Jervis looked up at the Chef.
"Oh! Oh, my Dear!" The sound of the tray dropping should have startled her more than the arms suddenly wrapped around her. "You look dreadful!"
"Thanks." Alexandera coughed into Jervis's shoulder, unable to move her hands up or even away from the mans tight embrace. "What are you doing here?"
"Come, Dear, let's get you more comfortable." Jervis gently led the Chef to her stained couch, fussing over the blanket around her.
"What did you burn?"
"Hmm? Oh, well I was trying to make biscuits for tea, but I may have made a mistake. No problem though, I'll ask Time to go back so I can try again."
"Time? Jervis what do-" Alexandera took stock of the man in front of her. Jervis was usually ruffled, clothes askew and wrinkled, but he wore it well usually. It was his eyes that made her take pause. Wide and fervent, glazed and unfocused. "Hatter?"
"Yes, Alice?" The Chef swallowed, wincing in pain.
"Hatter, could you make tea?" A mad giggle bubbled from the man as he bounced to the kitchen.
"Of course, Alice!" She could hear her cabinet doors opening and closing as the Hatter searched for tea. "And once your done with tea, I'll take you back down to Wonderland, where I can take care of you." Alexandera spotted her boots, and leaned forward finding her burner phone.
"That sounds nice, Hatter." She didn't look who she called, just pushed the button and pushed the phone to her ear, covering the action with the blanket, just in case. It only took two rings.
"What?" The Chef coughed, trying to keep her voice low, but it hurt to whisper.
"Hatter's in Wonderland, in my apartment."
"That's never been an issue before."
"I'm too sick to deal with this right now!"
"What do you want me to do? I ain't that kinda doctor."
"Dammit, Crane!" The Chef felt her stomach clench from the force of her cough, she spoke to loud.
"Crane's not here right now, but if you'd like to leave a message..."
"Scarecrow, he's talking about taking me to Wonderland... I..." The Chef sighed, using her torn voice to emphasize her point. "I need help." The Chef could hear Riddler's voice in the background, but couldn't make out what exactly he was saying.
"We'll be there in a bit. Play along. Don't leave with him, he's the only Rogue that still has a hidden base." Alexandera could hear a rumbling over the phone that sounded suspiciously like a growl. "You leave with him, even Eddie won't be able to find you." Alexandera curled up, not ready for this, not today.
"Thank you, Hyde."
.
.
.
Well, Damian knows.
I want to try something new. One of my favorite fanfic authors has a tumblr account, and she'll answer questions regarding her stories, or use suggestions offered by readers and answer what would happen in these scenarios. I made an account, I'd like to try it. Mind you, I've never used tumblr before so bare with me.
www . tumblr blog / shikyokage742
I hope you all enjoyed, and be ready, the next chapter is gonna be fun.
The world would be bleaker without you.
s742