Chapter Text
II
Prologue: The Sound of Silence
“Lucy…”
I could hear his voice from far off in the distance.
“Lucyyyy…”
Searching for him in a dark alleyway, I finally found him. His purple gloved hand swung my mother’s necklace back and forth. Wading through a thick fog, I did my best to keep my eyes on his lingering hand. However, the closer I got, the harder it was to see. A fog slowly wrapped around my body, morphing into a thick, black smoke, coming from a fire that I couldn’t see. As I choked on hot fumes, I felt his hand wrap around my mouth, pulling me closer to him. As he lowered his face to mine, I’d feel the hot pain of his knife slicing through my skin.
I shot up in bed around 3 in the morning, panting and covered in a thick sweat. It had already been a few weeks since I came to Santa Monica, California. Each night I dreamt of him... And it was more or less the same dream. Pulling out a kitchen knife from underneath my pillow, I held it tightly in the darkness. I knew he wasn’t there, I had to remind myself, nothing was ever there in the darkness.
Once I settled back into a steady rhythm of breathing, I placed the knife back underneath my pillow. Tracing my way towards the medicine cabinet was a nightly regime. My head would ache where the metal pipe had been cracked against my skull. Especially after my nightmares. The doctors told me it was only a minor concussion, but the residual pain was at times unbearable. Just another unwanted reminder of the man who had murdered my mother.
I welcomed the cool marble against my bare feet as I used my senses to avoid any fluorescent lights. Even in the dark, I could tell everything in this flat was beyond lavish. During my stay, Bruce Wayne had insisted that I stay in one of his five star hotels overlooking the beaches of Santa Monica. As I had no money and I owed Batman for saving my life on that rooftop, I really wasn’t in a position to say no to Bruce Wayne.
After popping a few aspirin, I walked back into my bedroom that overlooked the shoreline. A large ferris wheel spun round and round in the distance, the electric lights dancing in different patterns as they went from blue to red to green. There were bonfires along the boardwalk until the early hours of the morning and always the sound of music and laughter coming from somewhere just out of sight.
Opening my balcony doors to the beach, I breathed in the cool night air. Looking across the coast line, I tried to imagine my mother's life. She must have walked some of these beaches decades ago. Her memories, her secrets lay buried somewhere in this city- and I was going to find them.
Brushing a hand through my short, curly hair, I was relieved that I had cut it. I felt freer. My long hair had been a reminder of the time I had spent with the mob; dressing up and doing their dirty work, every day hoping I would somehow find a way to murder that man...
Bypassing thoughts of Carmine Falcone, the father I never had, I took to looking out at the vast ocean. Beyond the late night parties and distant bass-heavy music, there was an ocean calling. Closing my eyes, I breathed in sync with the waves.
The PO box from my vision had so far been impossible to find. There were so many in Santa Monica and I was beginning to doubt whether P.O. Box 444 was even real… maybe I had imagined the whole thing… Maybe it was just a hallucination brought about by the concussion. However, this was the only thing left driving me forward. I would see this until the end.
I decided that after some more sleep, I would head down to the beach for an early walk. The next post offices on my radar were a half miles down the boardwalk. I preferred to visit locations before the crowds came - less attention, less energy.
I shut the balcony doors and collapsed back into bed with a sigh. Initially, running away to California would have been a dream… but now a part of me was torn. I wanted to know more about my mother, but I also missed the familiarity of Gotham. So much had changed. With Falcone behind bars and Batman back, I felt less like running. A part of me even missed John.
Before drifting back to sleep, I glanced back out the window. A small bird had landed on the railing, tilting its head in my direction.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
John had been obsessively checking Lucy's bank account statements, making sure she was buying enough food and staying out of trouble. Knowing her, she used Bruce's platinum credit card sparingly, buying only what she needed. She wasn't someone who took advantage of money. Lucy was different. She was Lucy.
"Has she grabbed her morning coffee yet?" Chimed in Alfred, who was busy pouring some more tea into Bruce Wayne's cup. John rolled his eyes, closing the bank app on his cellphone. He would have shot Alfred a look, but it would have been unwarranted. John was easy to read, and it was obvious that he loved Lucy.
"Not yet.." John mumbled as Bruce smirked, taking a sip of tea from his mug.
"She's fine. What you really need to focus on is your training."
John put the phone on the table and sighed.
"I just wish she'd text me."
"Why not message her?" Alfred asked, sitting down with them at the table. For a moment, he felt as if he were back in high school, gossiping in the cafeteria about girls...
"I don't want to seem desperate…"
Alfred and Bruce looked at one another smirking, avoiding eye contact with John.
John finished his lunch in silence. It was the day before Christmas Eve and the boys were off on a winter holiday up north in the mountains. The Manor was like it had been years earlier - quiet, empty… and a little depressing.
Despite Bruce not going out on nightly escapades with John, he continued to watch him from the bat cave. He was still very much the Batman he had been, just without the mask and cape. Training had been relentless, but enlightening. John was beginning to understand that he needed to separate his emotions from the suit, from his identity as Nightwing. Initially with Lucy with him, the task had been difficult. However, in her absence, he was getting the hang of things.
It had been weeks since the Joker's disappearance, but Nightwing had his hands full with the Penguin's new mob. Man of Arkham's escapees had risen in the ranks - hungry for a slice of power. Just this week there had been a number of incidents: Victor Freeze had raided a jewelry store for rare ice cut diamonds, the GCPD found stashes of Scarecrow's fear gas waiting to be deported along Gotham's bayside, and Commissioner Gordon was continuing to cut chords with mob sympathizing cops and officials.
This was only the beginning of a new wave of criminals. The Joker had made sure of that. With the collapse of the mob, he had tilled the soil for change, only to slip into the shadows cast as the sun rose over Gotham’s winter skies.
John's worst fear was that eventually he'd go looking for Lucy. She had played a crucial role in the Joker’s plans, and he was certain that he wasn’t done with her yet. However, as much as he worried about Lucy on her own across the country, a painful gut feeling told him that the Joker wouldn't go all the way to California to find her. Lucy would eventually come home, and she’d come looking for him.
Chapter 1: Mindfields
I missed watching the sun rise over Gotham harbor. Somehow, every day seemed like an illusion without it. I exhaled slowly as I sat by the incoming tide, legs crossed and facing the ocean. It certainly didn’t feel like December. Palm trees with Christmas lights were bizarre to me.
Uncrossing my legs and standing up, I looked at my phone. No new messages. Not like I was expecting any. I had no one but John, Alfred and Bruce and I didn’t expect them to dote on me. In fact, I preferred this solitude. I hadn’t had a moment to myself in months… since I crashed through those floorboards and into an entirely new life. Besides, Christmas was coming. I hated Christmas. Even when my mother was alive…
Today's plan was to check those PO boxes along the coast, then hide away once again in my own batcave apartment.The only other thing that was slightly more appealing to me besides research and coffee, was binge watching classic sci-fi movies on Bruce’s flatscreen TV.
But first thing was first, coffee.
It was a struggle to stay focused after every night of seeing my night stalker. I feared him, but he intrigued me. And in my moments of weakness, I could easily fall prey to my longing thoughts and feelings. I still craved his freeing, chaotic energy. It had been a drug to me, numbing the constant hypersensitivity I had to my surroundings. But I had to remember what it did to me… as Goya once said “the sleep of reason produces monsters”.
As I walked towards the direction of the cafe, my eyes were drawn towards a few elevated ropes tied to palm trees on the other side of the boardwalk. This was where the slackliners practiced. It was such a fascinating sport: walking across a skinny line of tight, flat fabric like it was nothing. It looked easy enough… Suddenly I felt the urge to try it. Glancing around, I decided it was early enough to not publicly embarrass myself. Coffee could wait a few minutes more.
I walked across the boardwalk, took off my sandals and stepped onto the dew covered grass. I figured the slackline would be wet as well, but to my surprise, it was nice and dry. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, I placed one foot on the line, hoisting myself up to balance my body against the palm tree. It felt like I was practicing a skill in the Bat cave with John… except this time I was on my own.
Swaying back and forth, I held my breath and let go of the palm tree. My legs were surprisingly wobbly from the start, violently shaking the rope up and down. Trying to think my way back to a calm state, I realized my nerves had already gotten the best of me. Swinging my arms around wildly, I fell backwards with a thud.
“First time?” a voice squeaked from behind me.
Startled, I scrambled up awkwardly.
“I’m sorry- is this yours? I didn’t mean to intrude-”
As I stared at my onlooker, I immediately noticed his bright green hair and wide grin. A mid-twenties California beach bum? Maybe.
“No no no… this is what these ropes are here for!” he sang, excitedly. The man jumped onto the slackline, walking the length of it with ease.
“Right…” I said, trying not to look too impressed.
He hopped off and strolled back over… immediately I could tell he was a big bundle of energy that I was not yet ready for so early in the morning. In my groggy, half dazed, coffee deprived state, I felt 30 years his senior.
“You're always welcome to practice here, I can even teach you a few things!”
Yeah, sure buddy .
“Thanks, well… I better g-”
“I’m Garfield, my friends call me Gar” he said, holding out a bare hand. I sighed inwardly. No touching random people anymore.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Lu.. um, Lorie,” I said, waving in response, “I have a thing about germs…” I bit my lip. You were just on someone else’s slackline, dumbass…
“Oh, totally okay! I get it!” he said, lowering his hand. “Well… uh, do you want to grab a coffee? I was just on my way to that cafe over there-”
Of course this would happen .
“I’d uh.. Um sure” I said, forcing a smile with every ounce of energy I had left. My first real interaction with someone besides John, Alfred and Bruce in weeks, and it was probably the most awkward conversation of my life.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
A thousand miles away, John and Bruce were walking the beaches of Wayne manor. John was deep in thought, staring towards the far end of the beach where he had first met Lucy…When he had saved her life.
“Are you listening?” Bruce said abruptly, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Uhh… yeah, psychopathy is not the same as antisocial personality disorder.”
“Good. And that is the key to understanding how the Joker works on a fundamental level-”
Sometimes John thought Bruce would deliberately analyze the Joker just to prod into his mental state. Nightwing never got the chance to fight with the Clown Prince. He hadn’t been able to unleash his built up rage. The Joker had defiled Lucy’s mind… and god knows what else… but he had to hide his anger. Channel it. Stay focused.
“So, Psychopaths are an offset of ASPD?”
“Not exactly,” Bruce continued. “Psychopaths have a strong sense of self preservation. Something that the Joker lacks. He constantly puts himself in situations that endanger him.”
“So… How does knowing that help us to track him down?”
John knew Bruce had been studying his nemesis for a long time. They were two sides of the same coin- and John was pretty sure Bruce had his own type of Antisocial Personality Disorder.
“He feeds off of proving people wrong, destroying moral boundaries. He finds cracks in the justice system and exploits them.”
“So basically he gets off on ruining other people’s lives… that sounds about right.”
Bruce didn’t acknowledge John’s dry humor.
“So where does that leave us? Where would he be headed next?”
John always wondered if Bruce already knew the answers… if he was just expecting John to some day catch on.
John marinated on the question as they turned to head back to the Manor. He thought back on the destruction of Arkham, Lucy’s mental breakdown, the Italian American massacre…
“He hates order and looks to break apart establishments… I’d say he’d be after the GCPD or The Penguin’s new mob.. So we wait for him to make his first move?”
Bruce kicked a rock across the way.
“Never assume the obvious with the Joker. Our eyes need to be where he doesn’t expect us to look.”
John looked frustrated at his response. This was getting them nowhere.
As they made their way back to the manor, Alfred was waiting by the door. Looking as pale as a ghost, he was clutching the landline in hand.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Garfield insisted on buying me coffee, as he had an ample amount of membership points. To be honest, I didn’t mind. After my first cup of coffee, he was much easier to handle.
Walking down the boardwalk, now on my second cup, I was listening to him droll on about balancing techniques.
“It’s really all about being in the present moment. Your focus needs to always be on a steady point in front of you. If you start thinking about your feet, what you had for dinner last night, your ex boyfriend, you’ll lose concentration-”
“Who said anything about having an ex boyfriend?” I said suspiciously.
“Oh I’m sorry. You’re into girls aren’t you… My bad.” He was surprisingly straightforward and it was a little unnerving.
“No, it's not that! I’m-I’m just - let’s just change the subject.” I didn’t feel like getting personal. The sun was rising higher into the sky and I knew I had to get going.
“So what are your plans for the day? Christmas shopping?”
Another strange, intimate question… I had a feeling he didn't have the best people skills.
“Uh… no, I don’t really celebrate Christmas. I’m actually trying to locate a PO box with. I can’t seem to find it. Actually, maybe you can help me.” I fished out the slip of paper with PO Box 444 Santa Monica written on it and handed it to him.
He smirked.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” he said slyly.
“I figured that was pretty obvious.”
He gave the piece of paper back to me.
“PO Boxes have had 5 letters for decades. The one you’re looking for is retired. If anything, it's probably not even a post office anymore.”
My heart sank.
“Buuut- its a good thing I explore abandoned buildings for fun-” Garth said winking.
. . .
John hadn’t been expecting that phone call so soon.
“Thanks Gordon, I’m on my way”.
He hung up the phone, turning to Bruce.
“He’s back.”
…
Getting into a stranger’s jeep was probably not the best idea. John would have killed me. But Garth seemed harmless - if anything, seemed to be enjoying life and was excited for the opportunity for an adventure.
Starting the car in the beach parking lot, I looked around it’s interior to find it mostly spotless, with a few candy wrappers strewn here and there. No new car smell though, I could definitely smell wet dog.
“So, we are going into one of the older parts of the city… It's a little sketchy.” He put the car into first gear, but stopped to look back at me. “Hey listen, I know you just met me and all… If you wanna call someone and let them know where you’re going, that's totally cool.”
“I have gps on my phone, I’ll be fine… and I can handle myself,” I said matter of factly.
“Alriiiight, I just want you to feel like I’m not kidnapping you or anything...”
I would have told him where I was from, but he hadn’t breached the subject and I didn’t want to go there.
As he pulled onto the main road, the fresh air felt nice. I had decided not to rent a car in Santa Monica, and this was the first time that I felt like I was on a mini vacation from reality.
Of course, that feeling didn’t last long.
“Sooo…. where ya’ from?”
I sighed.
“I was raised on the east coast… in Gotham.”
“Woahhhh cool! So you’ve seen all that crazy shit happening there?? Wow dude, like, If I were you, I’d need a vacation too!!” he realized he was rambling and quickly apologized.
“It’s always crazy there, you just… get used to it.” And you start to miss it when you’re away.
He flipped on some type of retro synthwave music that I actually didn’t mind.
“Do you mind if we take the SPH? It takes longer but there's less traffic and it's much more beautiful…”
“SPH?”
“South Pacific Highway… it's the highway along the coastline. Sorry I keep forgetting you’re new here”
I inwardly cringed, but welcomed the idea. Less people, more nature.
“Sure, sounds good.”
As we drove along the coast, listening to music I could tell he was making an effort to keep his talking to a minimum. This coastline held so much life and energy to it…nothing like the cliffs lining Arkham Asylum. I wanted to relax and let down my guard but years of distrust and betrayal had me fixed in my ways.
Looking behind us through the rearview mirror, I was thankful for my vigilance… as I was continuing to monitor a black van that had been distantly trailing us since leaving the beach parking lot.