The Iceberg Lounge was burned to the ground the evening before Jonathan's funeral. It almost felt fitting in a dark way, at least that's the best way Carla could describe how she felt when she heard the news while pulling on a black pant suit and heels that morning.

It was the beginning of June by the time Jonathan was finally able to have some kind of send off, his body being held by the police department for forensic examinations for an obscenely long amount of time. In the days and weeks that had passed, the sadness lessened about his death but the guilt never really shifted from Carla's shoulders. It wasn't her fault and she knew that, but the thought that maybe she could've done something to stop it from happening kept her nights restless most of the time.

She wasn't surprised to see nobody else at the funeral but she was surprised to see the sun shining, only ever recalling such dark days to be filled with grey skies and heavy rainfall. Instead, there wasn't a cloud in sight and the sun was hot enough to force Carla to shrug off her blazer as she stood over Jonathan's grave, holding it in her hand while she listened to the officiant finish the service.

Carla had a single white rose in her fist and tossed it over the casket, followed by a handful of dirt that rattled against the wooden box. It was a haunting sight but not one that Carla hadn't seen before, being able to recall the feeling of the earth in her hands and the way it rained down on the grave and the deafening silence that came afterwards, the heaviness of having to turn and walk away.

The fact that she was alone didn't bother her, knowing from the beginning that the people of Gotham wouldn't have cared less about the murder of someone like Jonathan. She understood their reasonings and would've likely felt the same way had he not been the first person to make her feel like she wasn't alone in the city, and the first person to make her smile there, too.

Carla took one last look over her shoulder at the headstone, suffocating from the heavy feeling in her chest and the tightness in her throat that was relieved only once she looked away.

When she did, however, her morning of grief was no longer being spent alone.

Carmine Falcone strolled across the cemetery in a black suit with an entourage of three men trailing a short distance behind him. He walked with an umbrella clicking against the footpath as if it were a cane, a tiredness in his face that darkened his eyes and lined his cheeks.

"It usually rains at funerals," he said, tapping the tip of the umbrella against the path.

"At least the ones we've had to attend."

Carmine had never expected anything but hostility from his daughter and so wasn't surprised by her greeting that morning, though he thought she might've shed a little more emotion, whether it delight or disappointment, over seeing him alive after the news about his club being set alight only a few hours earlier.

"The next one could've been my own. Luckily I wasn't at the Iceberg Lounge last night, the Joker missed me."

Carla just stared at him. It wasn't the first time that the Joker had made at attempt on Carmine's life since escaping incarceration and she was sure it wouldn't be the last, either. There had been narrow misses of bullets through car windows and bloody fights from surprise encounters at restaurants downtown that resulted in the deaths of innocent people caught in the crossfire, clear that more blood would be shed until the Joker got what he wanted.

Carmine had been a hard man to track down ever since, practically turning invisible to avoid the white-faced menace with cold blooded revenge on his mind. That wasn't to say Carla had been trying to track down Carmine in that time, but she had heard a lot less from him ever since he went AWOL.

"What makes you think I'll come to your funeral?"

He laughed then, shaking his head at her frosty words and bitter expression, "I've come to pay my respects to the late Doctor."

"He wouldn't want your respects, you've wasted your time." Carla replied firmly.

Carmine said nothing as he strolled past her, swinging a bunch of red roses tied together with a piece of string between his fingers. He paused at the open grave and stared at the headstone, reading the gold letters that spelled out Jonathan's name before throwing down the roses and nodding once.

Carla felt herself seethe as she watched, forcing herself to breathe more steadily, slower to calm the fire that roared out of thin air.

He turned back to her and walked onto the path once more, smiling small at her readable fury behind the way her eyes curved at the edges, a tension in her face.

"I have a job for you at the end of the month. A shipment is coming into the docks and I want you to be there to see it all goes well."

"And you can't do this because?"

He chuckled, "There have always been men trying to kill me, Carla. Now there are even more."

She nodded slowly with a patronising lifting of her brows, "I see. So you'll let them kill me instead? Just like you let your sons take the fall for you too?"

Carmine's smile disappeared and the anger set in, never failing to be enraged by his outspoken daughter's fierce words and unforgiving comments.

"Nobody has to die, let's not make this harder than it needs to be. As a gesture of goodwill, once the Joker is caught, you're done. Go back to Sicily, stay here with your fancy boyfriend, do whatever the hell you like. You'll be free."

Carla swallowed, "And if Giulia gets sick again?"

Carmine tilted his head with a chilling smile, "Then maybe one day you'll have to come back."

+

Eight long hours later, Carla found herself stood at the bar in the ballroom of a lavish hotel uptown. The occasion that evening was a fundraiser for the Mayor's cabinet and despite not having a care in the world about the Mayor or his office, Carla knew she had to show her face.

She wouldn't be alone all evening since Bruce was supposed to be in attendance too, though a hectic day at the office pushed back his schedule and meant that Carla had to walk in alone.

The high-ceilings echoed voices from familiar faces and Carla did her best to smile at those who smiled at her, not bothering with those who didn't. Her mind was occupied with preempted details about what this last job for Carmine would involve, thrown in with a shot of burdened guilt from burying Jonathan, too.

Carla never particularly looked approachable but perhaps even less so that night, deep in thought about the possibility of her life ending or starting over entirely by the end of the month.

Looking beautiful in a white mini dress and nude heels, Carla sipped on her champagne and stood idly by the edge of the bar, eyes scanning the room but not taking much notice of the guests mingling around her, a haze over her eyes. Harvey and Rachel were in there somewhere but right then, she didn't have the energy to talk to anybody at all. She was tired and worn out and wanted to do nothing but go home, sighing when she glanced down at her watch and saw that she'd only been there for a disappointing twenty minutes.

"I don't want to be here either but you could at least try to crack a smile."

Carla stared up at Harvey, face unimpressed as she spun around her champagne flute by the thin stem.

"I've been to a funeral today."

He sucked in a breath between gritted teeth, awkwardness flashing across his widened eyes, "You got me there. Let's dance."

"I don't want to-"

Before Carla could finish her dispute, Harvey had snatched the champagne from her and taken her by the hand, pulling her into the middle of the room in amongst other dancing couples in pretty dresses and tailored suits.

"You look beautiful," he said, one hand on her waist while she reluctantly held his other, waltzing slowly around the other guests.

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Harvey scoffed with a grin, "You are impossible, you know that?"

"Yes. Have you seen Bruce?"

"He just got here," he nodded, "He's talking to Rachel so I thought I'd come and find you in case some guy thought he'd try his luck with you."

Carla rolled her eyes, "You're my knight in shining armour."

"I wasn't coming to save you, I came to save the innocent man you'd probably have torn to shreds."

Carla smiled then and Harvey's eyes lit up at her reaction, "Now that, that does make me feel better."

Bruce and Rachel walked from the reception into the ballroom arm in arm, both of them grumbling to each other about their unhappiness at having to attend the fundraiser that night.

The city was perhaps in the most turmoil it had been in of late, with more deaths and more chaos unfolding across the streets and beneath them too, the grasp that the cops had over Gotham loosening more by the day.

Rachel was overworked down at the District Attorney's office and when Bruce wasn't spending long hours in Wayne Tower, his evenings were taken up by breaking arms and cracking ribs of Falcone and Maroni's men flooding the streets with drugs and crime, all while keeping an eye out for the Joker, too.

Still, they both turned up that evening looking perfectly polished; Rachel in a red knee-length dress and Bruce in a black tuxedo, a silver watch on his wrist and engraved cufflinks in his white shirt.

"How is Carla?" Rachel asked as they made their way over to the bar to get a drink.

"She's fine. It was Crane's funeral today."

Rachel stiffened at the mentioning of his name. She had genuine sympathy for Carla and had grown to like her a lot more than she once thought she would, though she would never be able to find any forgiveness for Doctor Crane after he'd attempted to take her own life.

"And uh, the rumours about her working for Falcone?"

Bruce looked down at his friend with narrowed eyes, "A rumour is a rumour, Rachel."

She laughed quietly and shook her head, "I trust you. I don't believe what you're saying but I do trust you, and I know that look you're giving me is a warning to not ask again."

His lips curved into a smile, "Good. Can you see her anywhere? I haven't talked to her since last night."

Rachel peered over the tops of heads in search of Carla, craning her neck but finding no trace of her dark hair or a dress far too pretty for anyone else in there to have picked out. She knew Harvey had wandered off in search of her but frowned when she saw him making his way over to the bar alone.

"Where's Carla?" Rachel asked her boyfriend when he arrived at her side.

He rolled his eyes, "She stormed off to the bathroom because she claims I stood on her foot while we were dancing."

"I'll go look for her," Bruce said with a quiet laugh, "See you guys later."

He pushed his way around the edge of the room towards the bathrooms, avoiding eye contact with people he knew he'd end up trapped in conversation with if he accidentally caught their gaze. Perhaps a little impolite, but Bruce didn't care. He too didn't have any energy left to engage in mindless small talk with people that only wanted to know him for his money and his name, and so kept his head firmly down.

A secondary lounge opened up as a hallway to the bathrooms off either side, a collection of four Chesterfield couches sitting by large windows beneath a huge golden chandelier were being lounged on by people who had already had too much to drink.

Bruce just stood to the side, hands in his pockets while he stared out of the window and watched the moon start to shine brighter the darker the sky became, day disappearing into the darkness of the night.

"Don't worry about me, you know I'm always fine. Is Carolina still visiting?"

He turned on his heels when the sound of Carla's voice cut through the other uninteresting murmur of conversation flowing about the room. Bruce spotted her walking out of the restroom with her phone to her ear, white leather purse hanging daintily between her fingertips as she walked over to the back of the room out of the way.

"And Cisco and Angelo? They still help around the house? Good, I'm glad you're feeling better," Carla stood alone with her phone, Bruce just outside of her field of vision as he slowly approached her, "Yes, yes Bruce is fine. He's very nice to me, Giulia, always. I know he's kind, he's a good man. Yes, of course I'll give him your love. Ti amo, arrivederci."

She ended the call and slipped her phone back into her purse, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she turned to walk back into the ballroom but jumping out of her skin with wide eyes and a hand pressed to her racing heart when she saw Bruce just three feet away from her.

"Jesus! What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?" She scowled and slapped his chest with her purse, hauling in a deep breath.

Bruce just laughed with a chuckle that came from his heart, eyes crinkling at the edges and shoulders shaking, the sound managing to make Carla's lips curve into a small smile that countered her sharp glare.

"I'm sorry," he said with a shake of his head, "Was that your aunt? You talk to her a lot nicer than you talk to me."

"You didn't fall in love with me because I was nice to you."

Bruce's smile grew and he was unable to stop himself from sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her into him, looking down at her with one hand on the side of her face.

"Touché," he whispered, looking down at her lips before meeting her eyes again, "Will you slap me if I kiss you?"

Carla's hand curled around the lapel of his tuxedo and her eyes narrowed playfully, lips pouted with temptation that she knew Bruce could never resist.

"Do it and find out."

He grinned and kissed her quickly, passionately and with enough force to take her breath away. Carla didn't slap him when he pulled away and while part of Bruce would've liked it if she had, his heart still raced at the sight of her slight smirk when she wiped her red lipstick away from his face.

"How is your aunt?" He asked, reluctantly loosening his grip on her and feeling cold when her hands left his chest.

"She's good, thank you. My friends take care of her when she needs it but for the most part, she's fine now. She sends her love."

"I'm glad to hear it. Tell her I send it back," he replied, "And you? How are you after today?"

"Fine."

"Fine as in you are actually fine? Or fine as in you'll tell me about it later?"

Carla hated the fact that Bruce knew her too well. She had never been easy and had never pretended to be, and while she often didn't know how to react to the softness of being cared about and loved, she was grateful that Bruce had the patience to wait with her while she figured it out.

"The second one," she said, letting Bruce lead her by the hand back into the ballroom.

"Okay," he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, "Dance with me?"

They stood on the edge of the dance floor for a moment and Carla audibly sighed, looking up at him to find his polished, hopeful smile waiting for her. She'd said no to a lot of men before, Bruce included, but the way his eyes made her forget about the weight of her long day and the heaviness that tomorrow and every day after that would bring made it feel impossible to say no to him now.

"So long as you don't crush my toes like Harvey."

"I have two left feet, I don't know what you're talking about."

Carla rolled her eyes as Bruce led her into the middle of the room. He tugged her closer and her waist fell into the palm of his hand, holding her like she was made for him. She didn't keep hold of his other, instead holding her purse between her fingers and resting both hands around his neck, barely a breath between their bodies while they swayed to a gentle melody from an elegant string quartet.

"You're beautiful."

"Harvey already told me that."

Bruce scoffed and huffed loudly, "Is there anything nice I can say to you?"

"Oh there's plenty of nice things you can say to me," Carla's eyes flickered with a tease, "Just not around other people."

Bruce swallowed hard and pulled in a slow breath, "Then why are we still here?"

Carla just chuckled and shook her head, snapping out of the flirtatious trance she held Bruce in and tickling the nape of his neck with her nails.

"We have to be here. Or at least I do, I don't need this city to hate me even more than it already does by not showing my face at a charity event. I can't deal with the hassle, not after today."

Bruce furrowed his brows and brushed his thumbs across her waist while they danced, their voices low while they talked and their presence practically ignored by everyone around them, being seen enough times together by the same faces for anybody to care anymore.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

She sighed, "I'm fine, I'm just angry. Turns out I wasn't the only one at Jonathan's funeral like I thought I'd be."

It took Bruce only a second to understand who Carla was talking about, her anger instantly validated.

"Why the hell was he there? Was he not hurt in the fire last night?"

"Unfortunately not," Carla said bitterly, "I swear I could've killed him with my bare hands for showing up there today. He had the nerve to bring flowers too, it made me sick."

Her jaw tensed and she wouldn't look Bruce in the eye, her gaze fixed in a disassociated haze on his shoulder while her mind wandered back through the hurricane of negative emotions she'd felt that day.

"Hey," Bruce cut in, catching her eye again, "I'm sorry."

"For what? None of this is your fault," she said softly, "There's one last thing I have to do for him and then I'm out. I can go home, go back to Sicily. I don't want to stay here for a second longer than I have to and I want you to come with me."

Bruce felt the rest of the room turn silent in his mind. In fact, the rest of the world went quiet, too. Carla's question wasn't one that he didn't think she'd never ask, but he'd never prepared himself for the time when she actually would.

Gotham was his home, despite all of the bad things that had happened there it had been the place where some of the best things had happened, too. He'd never considered a life anywhere else and although he dreamt every night about a life and a future with Carla, travelling across the world and visiting places more beautiful than they ever thought could exist, he'd never imagined his home to be anywhere but Gotham.

"I..."

His silence killed her with one clean swipe. Bruce watched the light disappear from behind her eyes and felt her hands loosen their touch at his neck, a soft, disappointed breath escaping from her parted lips as she blinked slowly, nodding once.

A gut-wrenching pain sliced her with the darkness of his eyes the longer she looked into them. Carla had never expected a man to love her at all, let alone enough to move across the world to be with her, but when it came with a blessing of escaping the dark binds of Gotham, she naturally assumed the answer would be the one she wanted.

Yet as she continued to be held by his hazel eyes and felt her soul shatter the longer the silence went on, Carla regretted her vulnerability and she regretted speaking from her heart, wishing she'd never told him how she truly felt if it were to end up with her feeling as empty as she did right then.

She'd felt physical pain and emotional loss, the worst things imaginable happening to her again and again and again and yet right then, that cold feeling of rejection by the one person she trusted and the only person she'd ever been brave enough to love, was perhaps the worst thing she'd ever felt.

Carla swallowed and let go of his neck, gently uncurling his fingers from her waist and pushing his hands away from her. She didn't cry, despite wanting to drown herself in tears, keeping her face poker straight instead and eyes bone dry. Anybody would've thought she was fine, but Bruce knew her better than that, and he knew that for a woman that claimed to have no heart, he'd just broken it.

"Never mind," she whispered, turning on her heels and walking away.