Chapter Text
“I said I’m ok,” I mumbled, as Gar tended to my wound beside one of the manor’s many fireplaces. He didn’t seem to hear me as he pushed the needle through my skin one last time.
I applied a bandage to the crescent shaped wound as he packed up the med kit. Shallow enough to not need serious medical attention, but serious enough to leave me with a scar. Another scar.
It had been a few hours since the incident and John and Dick still hadn’t returned.
”Lucy… I… We owe you an apology”
I didn’t respond as I smoothed a bandage onto my side.
“This is all super complicated with what’s going on….”
“You didn’t think I’d figure it out? You’re just using me like everyone else.”
“Lucy-”
“No. I don’t want to hear it. I’m not bait. I’m not a hero. I’m not going to stay here and wait for everything to go to shit like it always does-”
”Hey, hold on.” I heard a voice interrupt from the doorway. Dick was still dressed in his fighting gear, but had removed the mask from his face. “We’re only doing what we think is best for Gotham…”
“We?” I scoffed, “you don’t even live here anymore” and rose up from my seat. “I’m so sick of this. What do I even owe Gotham? This city killed my mother and left me with a step father who wanted the same for me. Now I’m being persuaded to use the same powers that got my mom killed? No. I didn’t ask for this. You said you wanted to help me, not secretly coerce me into joining your squad of vigilantes.”
Without waiting for a response I spun around and walked down the hallway past the group and up the main staircase. My mind was made up. I was going to pack up and leave tonight.
Deep in thought, I rounded the corner to my room, not realizing John was standing in front of my doorway.
“Move.”
“No. You need to hear me out.”
“I’ve heard enough.”
“I’m not going to stop you from leaving.”
“Great, then move.”
“Lucy, will you please just listen to me for a second?”
He wasn’t budging. I crossed my arms and waited to hear what he had to say.
“I love you. More than you’ll ever know. I know you don’t feel the same way. I know you never will. All I ever wanted to do was help you-”
“You wanted to use me to help the city. That’s selfish. It has nothing to do with love.”
“In my mind I thought that it would be the best way to help you… because it helped me. It helped Bruce and the rest of them. I should have thought better than to take your own future into my hands. Bruce, Dick, Gar and I didn’t mean to make you feel used. It just snowballed into a mission for a better cause… but it was wrong. You’re not like us.”
I wasn’t sure whether I felt relieved or offended. Not like us.
“You are Lucy Falcone. You don’t have an alter ego. You don’t need to fight for a “better cause”. Your passion isn’t protecting the city…that’s ours.”
I was shocked to hear such a brutally honest statement from him.
“Just let me help you get started,” he continued. “At least let me give you wheels and some cash. No traceables, I won’t follow you.”
“I’m not a charity case, I can survive on my own, I’ve done it before.”
“I know you’re not. I just want to make it a little easier for you… as an apology. After I found you on the beach, I should have just let you go. I’m sorry.”
“John… ”
Our heads turned as we could hear the boys coming up the stairs. I glanced briefly back at his battered face and cleared my throat.
“Thanks John.” I finished curtly. “Excuse me… I have to pack.”
A part of me thought I would cry when I said goodbye, but I was dry-eyed. I left around midnight, taking one suitcase with the clothes I had collected since the Fall. I tossed a few rolls of money into the glove compartment and a 44. Starting the engine, I realized I wasn’t used to driving. Especially a Mercedes .
Exhaling, I made my way towards the automated front gates. As they opened and I drove through, I took one last look back at the manor. I could have sworn I had seen John standing in one of the second floor windows.
Driving down silently towards the main road, I listened to the gravel crunch underneath the weight of the car. I had a decision to make. Should I stay, or should I leave Gotham? As the car idled by the main exit, I stared into the distance at Gotham City’s skyline.
I still had some business here, I reminded myself. I was invited to meet my real father in two days. On top of that, I still hadn’t retrieved my mother’s necklace from the Joker. I needed to decide whether or not these things were important to me.
Gripping the steering wheel, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Half of me wanted to drive in the opposite direction until I found some place to start over. The other half knew that if I didn’t tie these loose ends it would always haunt me. They would always haunt me. I needed to finish this now .
Opened my eyes and stepped on the gas.
It took 15 minutes to get back to Gotham. In those 15 minutes I did a lot of mental planning. I would stay at one of the nicer, bigger hotels downtown until April 18th. After that I’d make my next move.
Between then and now, I needed to plan out how I was going to get back my mother’s necklace from the Joker. Despite his knife work on my stomach, I knew that I was safe from any life threatening death around him. He enjoyed the chaos I created too much to let it end.
However, by approaching him, I’d be submitting myself to the same danger of giving into him again. I shook out the thoughts of the passionate kiss he had given me against the bathroom wall. I shuddered.
I decided the best way to contact him without any chance of physical contact was to leave him a letter.
As I pulled up to the front of the hotel, I handed the chauffeur a twenty dollar bill to park my car. It was still freezing out despite it being closer to Spring than winter.
Walking up to the main desk with my suitcase, I booked my room and paid in cash. The young, blonde desk attendant wasn’t surprised. I’m sure plenty of the hotel’s guests were loaded, knee deep in dirty money.
My room was on the 7th floor towards the end of the hallway. Opening the door with my key card, I turned on the lights to find the room spotless and exceptionally decorated. Rolling my suitcase over to the queen sized bed, I walked to the nearby desk to retrieve a pen and a notepad.
My eyes were heavy with sleep but I had to write this letter. Putting the pen down to paper, a flood of words poured onto the page:
Joker,
Half a year has gone by since I fell through that ceiling in the Narrows and landed in the middle of this mess. I never imagined I would be where I am right now.
I should hate you, but I don’t. I should want to run away from you, but I won’t. You have something of mine that I want back, and I need you to listen to what I have to say. Without disruption.
You know how much that necklace means to me. That’s why you’ve kept it. It’s the one thing that keeps me here. So I’m asking you… begging you… let me have it. Let me go.
I don’t want to die here… whether that’s by the hand of someone else… or my own. I want to live . You lived a life before you wore that mask. I know because I see glimpses of it when we touch. You must know that.
I’m in my thirties now and I still haven’t been able to find myself… to know myself. I know this city is your playground… that you enjoy dismantling everything just to see how it falls into madness. You need that to fuel your identity. You’ve slowly become the mask that you wear. What I thought was left of you are just glimpses of a past long gone. You’re another person altogether now.
I don’t want that. I want to be free to make my own decisions and to lead my own life. Let me have that. Let me go… otherwise I will shrivel and die here, and it won’t be because you drive me mad. It will be because my soul will eventually give up fighting and surrender to the inevitable. I will become a shadow.
Let me have my mother’s necklace. Let me leave Gotham knowing that you won’t be following me. Please.
Meet me where it started. Tomorrow. 5 pm. Just you and me.
-Lucy
I exhaled as I folded the letter up, writing my name on the front. Tomorrow I could walk into the narrows and deliver the message in the morning. I'd return at night... hoping one of his thugs would spot me and alert him to my presence. I had to be careful, I knew the pistol I brought wouldn't do me much good, but it was better to have one than to go in blind.
Stripping down to my undergarments, I buried myself under the comforter and finally let myself cry. I cried for what seemed like hours until my exhaustion pulled me into a deep sleep.
I woke up the next morning with a clear head. No dreams, no headaches. I stared up at the white ceiling for a few minutes, planning my day from start to finish. Breakfast downstairs, then the narrows... I had to prepare for the meeting with my father and do some research about the place we were supposed to meet. Scope it out and memorize every room, every hiding space... every possible exit. Then, hopefully, at 5:00 pm, we would meet.
I was prepared for the worst with the Joker, but I was hoping he would read the letter and understand.
Stretching, I walked to the bathroom and changed my bandages. The scar on my neck from Christmas was less prominent, but I had to make sure I didn't rip the stitches on my stomach. It was still sore and red. I did my best to keep it dry in the shower.
Without conscious effort, I realized I was thinking about John. I knew he would heal from this time with me. He deserved someone less volatile and more confident in themselves. All my life I hadn't pursued a real life. I was always planning my escape, never thinking about mundane things like boyfriends, a stable career, my own comfortable apartment... Who was I really? What were my likes and dislikes? How did I never know this intimate side of myself?
Drying off, I threw on some jeans, a t-shirt, a leather jacket and my suede boots. I tucked the pistol into the back of my jeans and went down for breakfast.
It was about 8 o'clock as I piled eggs, bacon and toast on my plate from a buffet. Once I was away from this place, I promised myself I'd make more breakfasts like this. They were comforting. I was through running on empty all the time. I exhaled as I took a sip of coffee.
The calm before the storm, I thought to myself.
The same words my father had said to me through telepathy the day before. I wasn't entirely sure of how his powers work. They were different from mine, but I could sense they were very powerful. I needed to keep myself shielded from him as best as I could.
As I took the elevator back up, a shiver ran down my spine. I shuddered as a coldness took over my body. Suddenly I knew what this was about. Taking my gun out of the holster, I crept silently towards my hotel room.
The door was slightly ajar.
I took a deep breath and held it as I listened for any movement inside. When I was sure it was clear, I slowly pushed the door open and held my gun out in front of me. Nothing was there. I checked the shower, under the bed. I checked for any sign of forced entry. Nothing. Except for one thing.
My letter was gone.