1x01: AMERICAN PSYCHOS.

episode specific tws: alcohol, crude language, misogyny and descriptions of the female body by men, violence, graphic death scene.

SEPTEMBER.
sunday, 22 — 2024.

" I refuse to let vigilantes continue in treating our city like a playground, " The man scoffed at the moderator's question, his proud head catching the light just right so his blonde hair was glowing. " So a vote for me is a vote for justice. "

Aurora's jaw sets, teeth grinding together.

Justice was a word used loosely in Gotham, everyone said it as commonly as words like "yes" "no" or "fuck". But the definition was looser. To some justice was a noose, a blade — a weapon to choke with. To others justice was a tool. And others still, it served as a purpose. And to Aurora Dent — justice is a bitch. In all its suffocating righteousness.

She settles further back into the couch, picking at her cuticles while the interview continues. Even white noise would be better than the drool of political nonsense. It was the same every four years.

At the start of the year the line-up was always big, several sharply dressed puppets promising to make a difference stood next to rich people who needed something to do. Usually it dwindled in size at least by the third quarter — just short of August.

The largest count of candidates was something close to fifteen, but that was when it was easier (and cheaper) to advertise yourself.

Because making change was a rich man's game, and no rich man wanted things to change. " To be rich is to be comfortable. " She remembered reading the statement in one of her more pretentious books. Written by a rich man with a richer dick. Hypocritical.

But now there were only four, from the original ten, cut down in size as early as March if she's remembering correctly. This one had the benefits of being both young and hot.

After a few more declarations she watched as one of her personal nurses turned the tv off, commenting on her paleness in the usual French. " I was watching that - "

" And do you plan on looking like that tonight ? "

" No .. but if it makes you feel any better, my paleness goes with my dress. "

The woman steps closer, tilting Aurora's chin up as she does. A tsk. Then her inspection is done, and Aurora tilts her head back down to its usual height.

" Good. I will not have you looking like a ghost. Now your friend is here, make sure you say hi. " A pat to the head, a kiss to the cheek. There's a part of her wondering if familiarity was a weapon too, if it was worse or better than dying for justice.

" Wait. What friend ? "

——————

" You don't look like you missed me. "

" I just assumed I wouldn't be seeing you until tonight. " Aurora stills and watches, hands behind her back while her guest takes off her jacket.

" I figured you would miss me, " Sierra's lips twitched into a smile while her sister fought the urge to compare it to her own. " And that's when you say — "

" I missed you. "

Sierra's arms open first and Aurora moves in to meet her, letting their arms tightly twist together and around the other. If you were to use the word "similar" to describe them, you'd be blind at worst, too nice at best. Sierra was tall, black hair framing her sun-kissed face ever so perfectly. Because Sierra was perfect. There was a reason people listened to her when she talked, or bought posters of her when they couldn't get close enough.

And in turn Aurora was a ghost compared to a goddess. A Victorian would-be princess in a sense, shorter and too pale for her own good, blonde hair falling like a sheet. If she asked, Sierra would swear they complemented each other, that they were sisters no matter what or who said otherwise — lack of blood connection aside.

" Walk with me ? "

With arms linked as one Sierra leads her back to her mother's garden, neither one talking until the Dent family mansion was only visible in peripheral view.

" Don't tell me you're here to lecture me too. " Aurora pouts, whines, leaning her head against her shoulder.

" No. This is about your dad, actually, in a more questioning sense, " They sit by the gazebo, Sierra's manicured fingers picking at some fallen rose petals. " And the mayor - rat - race. "

Bummer. If anything, Aurora wanted to hear about New York, the food, the people — the Warren that she missed so tenderly.

" If you're going to say I shouldn't let him influence my vote, you're not the first; I know. I swear. " One hand raises halfway up in surrender and the other goes over her heart.

" I think you should. Family and all. "

Her eyebrows crease together in a half - angry furrow and Aurora knows she means it. Regrettably. " Have you seen the candidates yet ? "

" Not in person, I just read an article about them on the way here. James wants to introduce me formally tonight .. because he'll be on Mr. White's side, and so am I by association. Which is why — "

" You're talking to me ? "

" Mhm. Politics. "

" My favorite. "

Aurora curls away from her sister, leaning over to hide her hands while picking at her nails, ignoring the already dried blood from the last time she indulged in the habit. " I don't mind if that's what you're worried about, I'll hold it against you when I want something though. Like one of your dresses ? "

" I figured. I doubt it'd fit you. "

" I'll make it work. " Her middle finger moves to her lips and she chews on a bit of dead skin. " Are you hungry ? "

Sierra grimaces and Aurora pretends not to notice. " Starving. "

——————

If Sierra had to pick a word to describe her sort-of-sister, "forgiving" would be the first thing to come to mind, though pathetic would be a close second.

She watches for as long as she can from her position at the bar, she watches the giddiness, the duck - like following of Bruce Wayne, the way other men stared like she was meat. Guilt bubbles up in the back of her throat. She frowns and soon recognises a different emotion, much more suffocating than the last. Possessiveness. The need to hold Aurora until she couldn't anymore. It was stupid, trying to protect someone from both themselves and the world around them. If it was a dog eat dog world, Gotham was a hunting rifle — and Aurora the bunny.

A sigh, a return to her smile. Ever perfect, ever mesmerizing. She twirls the ice in her drink around, licking the toothpick clean of its fruity vodka flavor as another suited man makes his strides to her side, he's only one in a long line of wannabe conquerors and therefore nothing special, so she doesn't bother to look until he gives her a reason to.

" Didn't take you long to get comfortable, did it ? "

Fuck.

Warren, against her better judgment, gets comfortable right by her side, ordering two more drinks — both stronger and sweeter. Problem was, he was special to far too many people — none of whom she wanted to deal with.

" That's kind of the point, " she bites her tongue and bends forward to rest her crossed arms on the bar. Perfect and rehearsed. The back of her dress was cut out, skin he was familiar with — but obsessed with all the same. He stills with a sharp breath, because of course he does. " Shouldn't you be getting comfortable with your fiancée ? "

He doesn't flinch. Because he doesn't need to, instead leaning in to whisper into her ear. " I'm sorry, I can't hear you over everything, " his hand moves to the countertop then her waist. Right where it belongs, he'd say. Not on Elizabeth, not on Aurora.

Sierra frowns, tilting her head up to watch his eyes. Warren was a perfect man by the classic, romantic sense. Tan and taller than her, with eyes worth writing poetry about, hands that belonged up her skirt, and a proud nose you'd see on some sculpture bust. He was the worst man by the literal sense. Shame crawls down her spine like a spider, but if it's biting, she doesn't notice. She's not the first, she won't be the last — the mental reminder doesn't help her want him any less.

" I can't entertain this tonight, you know that. "

" Why not ? " His right hand – the one bearing no ring – moves to the back of her bar stool.

" Because I'm working. "

" Believe it or not, I'm working too. "

" With who ? "

" My family is Team Finch, so by extension, I am too. "
She watches him eat a wet cherry, he pulls the stem between his teeth, and she blinks it off too late.

" Do you do everything your family tells you to do ? "
He smiles and Sierra thinks about slapping him, kissing him, and riding his face all at once.

" If I did, what's wrong with that ? "

" I figured you would be more independent. "

" I can be both. "

Warren is anything but stupid, but as his knuckles graze just the edge of her thigh, Sierra wishes he had more self respect. The least he could do — what she wanted him to do — is be more discreet in his attempts to lead her to the bathroom and fuck her brains out before acting innocent. She forces a smile, small yet forgiving, even as she pulls away to stand.

" I have to go. "

" I know, " he stills before leaning closer to her ear once again. " And will I see you later ? "

" I'll think about it. "

He kisses her cheek, in the polite way the French do, a hand now firm on her forearm. " When you say yes I'll be waiting. "

When. Like she was some guarantee, a predictable thing. Like she was Aurora — unable to say no to him. She resists the urge to hiss. " I know. "

——————

Formalities are a bitch, she decides. A few steps away from James Wilder and one of the candidates — Alastair — the pretty one. The young one. She waits, half for James to notice her and half to watch Alastair.

James raises his glass towards her, a martini without an olive, before curling his arm around her waist to pull her closer. His hands fumble, trying to avoid the exposed skin of her back as he gives half a hug first — so she pulls him in and finishes it. A kiss to his cheek and he sneaks one against her throat.

" New perfume, what do you think ? " she lies with a sickening need for his approval. His anything, really.

" I like it. " James wasn't special because of his adoration of Sierra, in that aspect he was a dime a dozen, easy to forget if you weren't trying to show off. He was special because he stood for something — engagement ring aside — Sierra wouldn't mind getting lost in that something. Even for a little bit. Seeing, hearing and breathing James was the closest thing to oxygen she could get. She leans into him, into his hug, and smiles. " I hope I didn't miss anything. "

" Of course not, I was just telling Mr. White here all about you. "

She pulls away and settles into a comfortable arm's-length distance with both men. One her boss, and the other a future mayor in the making. Possibly. Potentially. He was obviously favored by most of the populace but the other candidates had money and money is power. But people talk and talk and talk when you give them a little push to consider the right thing, and seven times out of ten, the right talk gets you the right things.

Young mayoral candidate befriends Gotham's favorite it - girl! Shows his heart on his sleeve with a long time friend! — he'll rise in the popularity polls because of what ? Because he's nice ? Because Sierra looks good on every man's arm ?

Which was true, but oddly enough not the point. " It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. White. "

" The formalities aren't necessary. You both can just call me Alastair. " He gives a smile, true and honest. He rises in the popularity poll because Gotham likes his shine.

Sierra likes his shine, she decides, in between the touches and smiles. His suit is crisp, not too expensive. The tie he's wearing was a gift from a child, the watch on his wrist from an investor. A man of the people who fits in so perfectly . " I was on the plane during your speech but I did get a chance to read it on the ride down here, you have such a way with words. "

His attention is on her more than James, and she decides she likes it that way. " So I'm told, but thank you. It's still flattering, no matter how many timesI hear it. "
There's a clock ticking down to when his shine is wiped out.

Another candidate, evidently Silas Finch by the look of the bird pin on his tie, clears his throat from behind Alastair. " I hope you don't mind but that Vale chick is coming over here, and look at us .. already a perfect photo opportunity. Bright smiles, please. "

Sierra and James let themselves get directed by Silas's assistant, now separated by his arms around their necks. She could admit his ego was entertaining. Her head tilting as he told a joke, practiced and professional, she'd have to read his script sometime. He was hot in that older, out your league kind of way. She shifts her thighs together and leans against his chest in the way men always like.

There's a saying, speak of the devil, and he shall appear — but Vale was worse. You didn't have to speak her name for her to show up.

Victoria Vale. Vicki, when she pretended to be your friend. Credit where credit is due, the woman does look good in a suit, if you can even catch a glimpse with all the paparazzi on her tail. Wolves wasn't an accurate comparison, at least they worked together in a sense. Their teeth skinned prey in a way that felt warm, welcoming, like home even. The reporters in Gotham were like hyenas and their camera flashes like laughter.

Sierra hums, admiring the way Alastair soaked in the attention like he was bred for it, or the way Silas did like he could finish just from hearing his own name. She focuses back on Vicki to avoid staring at the men. Even if she really wanted to. Feminism aside, or maybe to its credit, Vicki was good. Too good at times. The seductive power of a reporter, in the right suit, with red nails that held their notebook just right could do wonders for the mind in its eagerness. At least for the attention of desperate men.

When Vicki asked questions, they answered effortlessly, like trained dogs waiting for a bone. So she frowns. She needs dogs waiting to tear out each other's throats. " Gentlemen, Sierra, how about you give me something real ? It's not going to hurt you is it ? "

When she left the group broke apart, only tied together by a string of formalities. Sierra found herself envying the concept, the ability to control without exchange — the power to command a room without the need to over act. She watched as others watched Vale, like an on cue hate to see them go but love to watch them leave response driven by fear. In her wake everyone introduced themselves properly, even Silas's assistant, who despite not having a b - name, Silas kept referring to as Birdie.

" I do apologize for how rude that was, " Silas took Sierra's hand first, kissing her fingers, her knuckles then her wrist. And she let him — watching Alastair's face as he did. " How about you three join me in the lounge before I have to go ? "

He leads them there. He doesn't really need to. It's a Wayne bought gift to the city. A political building used only for the least political purposes. The lounge rooms were easily the most popular bits of inner architecture, conversation pits built like speakeasies. Art deco vomit. Because nobody here has ever read The Great Gatsby.

James settles in first, an arm outstretched for Sierra. She takes it; Birdie, Alastair and Silas follow, the man ordering far too much alcohol for only four people.

They talk, they drink, they whistle between their words. Sierra observes, she speaks when spoken to. She speaks to cut Silas off and play with Alastair's growing ego. It's a beautiful thing, how easy it is to get men to bare their teeth – though most don't realize until they're biting their own tongues.

It's routine at first, simple shallow talk to coax everyone to drink enough, and a little more for good measure. James pipes up first with pride — or whiskey — dripping from his words. " I have to ask, and don't take this the wrong way, but why are you interested in politics, Mr. Finch ? You have the money, the women, I can't imagine you wanting anything else. "

" You caught me, " he laughs a little too mockingly with a shake of his head. " I suppose I wanted a challenge. People kept telling me I was good at politics, making them like me, I want to see if they're right. "

" That's it ?" Alastair's anger is righteous, high and mighty, offended on the behalf of too many people to count. " So if you win, then what ? You're going to drive Gotham to the ground just to prove you can ? "

" I could. Maybe I will. I highly doubt the people of Gotham would mind .. it's not too different from what they've got now. "

" But they need something different. "

" What ? Like you ? "

Sierra's jaw sets, now her turn to get angry on someone else's behalf. Both men shift and everyone's breathing stills.
" You want the truth ? " Silas leans his elbows on to his knees as his head tilts forward, half a smile given. " I'm sure you've heard the rumors, the talk, about the coming war for Gotham ? "

" A war ? I wasn't aware there was a war in Gotham. Much less for it. " James speaks up first and Sierra shifts away from his side, her spine straightening with attention.

" Dramatic, isn't it ? A war for a city ? With Carmine in a coma, surely the mob world is scrambling for its scraps, and that only calls in the bigger guns. "

" Surely you don't mean those vigilantes, that's old news. Everyone knows they hate each other. It's expected. " James almost laughs, though no one thinks to join in.
Alastair's head shakes. " Depends on the person. I hear some are working for mob guys. Like hired guns with batarangs. "

Sierra resists the urge to correct both men. Batman wouldn't want his image used like that, much less the little bats he raised. " So that's it ? A war between heroes and villains ? That's not new. "

" They're not the only players on the board, sweetheart. Imagine a chess board. Now imagine four or five more people join the game. *That's* the war. Too many people hungry for the same thing. "

" Money ? Or power? "

" Control. Whoever controls Gotham gets whatever they want. Not many other cities can compete with us. "
Metropolis had Superman, alien attacks and such. Star City had its wannabe Apollos and Artemises. Even Gotham's sister city — Bludhaven — was considered worse. Broken and unfixable. But Gotham makes people, forges them into something new, stitches their wounds using barbed wire — use your pain as a weapon, Bruce would say. If Gotham is truly going to war, it will be between those bred for violence.

Alastair clears his throat, and the sound turns into a laugh. " I've been told nothing unites men, much less a city, like a common enemy. What's Gotham's enemy ? Itself ? "

When Silas nods Sierra frowns. " People have fought over less. "

" So .. you want to win .. to what end ? " James reaches a hand to Sierra's own, a platonic gesture, if he doesn't rub his thumb against her thigh.

" I want to win, to win. '' Silas's honesty is the dangerous kind. Like a knife cutting through through steak to rip himself a piece, no kindness left between his teeth. " If there's a war coming I intend to be on the winning side. I suggest you consider the same. "

Sierra considers for a moment, asking the obvious question. " What if the winners aren't good people ? "

" There's no such thing as a good person in this city. " When Birdie decides it's his turn to speak, it's a surprise — genuine — though Silas gives a quick, harsh, glance towards him, hiding his irritation behind a sip of whatever glass was closest.

" Pardon ? "

" Everyone thinks they have a choice, but they don't. Not in this city. I'm sure I don't have to explain that too much ? Everyone here is born wrong. " He moves their cold glass against his cheek like they were nursing a bruise, careful of their wide bottle cap glasses. Aurora would've called them chipmunk glasses — despite the comparison not making any sense. Sierra manages her curiosity, much to Silas's dismay.

" I would love to hear you explain it. " James starts. " It's only fair. " Alastair finishes and there's a buzz of butterflies, cicadas maybe, nesting in Sierra's stomach. Her boys and their egos.

Birdie sits up, finding the current topic more interesting than the last few. " I've been studying history for the longest time and I can confidently tell you, this city is cursed. Maybe it started when they were burning witches, maybe it started before then — but there is no good in Gotham. Never will be. "

There's an uncomfortable, short, silence as the idea swirls around their heads. It's a horrific thought, really — to fight for good knowing there is none. Sierra shakes her head and speaks up first. " I don't think that's true. Good is everywhere when you give it a chance. I think Gotham is just focused on survival, it's hard to smell flowers when you're treading water. "

" It's worse than water. Isn't it ? " Silas's eyes meet her own, both mocking and challenging. " It's closer to oil. Poison. The flowers spit fear toxin at you if you stand too close. What's the point of survival in a city like this ? "

" Instincts. " Alastair speaks again, softer this time. " You can't fight them. Can't even fight yourself, so you're forced to think about the basics — who you know, who you fuck, who you kill. "

" That's depressing. "

Alastair smiles and she's seen so many different smiles before, every one the same on every man, his just happens to be prettier to look at than most.

" Do you know who you'd kill, then ? What you'd go to war over ? A sister after she steals one of your dresses, maybe ? Or a guy who hasn't called you back ? "

A part of Sierra wants to grimace, turn her nose up at the idea that her wars are so shallow. But she doesn't, because they are. " I wouldn't dream of it. " Aurora was easy to handle and every guy always called back.

" That reminds me. Are you religious, Mr. White Knight ? " Silas shifts, leaning closer to his opponent, and Alastair's pretty head shakes, " No. Are you ? "

" I have a God, but I don't think you know him. " Silas's hand roughly pats the man's shoulder in a forced display of comradery before he moves from the couch. " I look forward to helping you meet him. "

" How do you plan to do that ? " Alastair's head tracks Silas, watching him pour another, stronger drink.

" By winning. And when I win, I'd like to invite you to join me so I can pick your brain. "

" For ? "

" The truth. " Another beat of silence. Colder this time. " I find truth has a way of cutting people through people. I find it fascinating. "

Sierra shifts, away from James, closer to Alastair — much to both men's hushed surprise. " Isn't that the point then ? To bleed for the truth because you believe in it ? "
Silas lifts his drink, gesturing his glass towards Sierra though his eyes never leave Alastair, " to truth, then. "

" Amen. "

They sip their drinks, not bothering to play pretend with mock laughter or too-bright smiles. Silas shifts when he's summoned away, Birdie close behind, before he dips his head down to Sierra's level, hunching over the couch. " You know the blonde Dent girl right ? Aurora ? Can you tell her I think her dress looks nice ? "

——————

Aurora forces a wider smile, teeth grinding together.

" Just breathe. "

" I can't. "

Bruce frowns and hands her a pack of gum, watching her fidget with the leftover plastic. " You'll be fine. You're a natural. "

Politics, as Thomas Wayne used to say, was the real nightmare of Gotham. No matter how dark it was there would always be someone, monopolizing night lights like his life depended on it. Because the most evil men wear suits, not masks.

Wayne gently pulls his goddaughter under his wing, easing her further into the crowd. " Do you remember what we went over ? "

" I have a photographic memory of course I remember — " Aurora's eyes squint, head turning towards him in genuine disbelief. " You're distracting me. "

" I am. Is it working ? "

" I'm not nervous anymore. But I am hurt. Wounded, even. "

" I promise, I'll make it up to you when this is all over. "

Wayne - work as Aurora called it, despite how much Bruce hated the alliteration, was easy enough. The Waynes owned practically anything and everything, and if they didn't, some other old world, old money family did.

" Now I know you prefer the technological aspects, but I want you to get more comfortable with people. So for tonight, you'll just be shadowing me.

" Is that assisting ? "

" As of now it is. "

" Will it help if we go over everything ? "

Her nose scrunches up as she tries to hide her smile, nodding quickly instead. " Maybe. "

" Rule number one ? "

" Don't overcomplicate the basics. "

" Good. Two ? " He holds up two fingers, adding a third before she finishes.

" Make them feel as comfortable as possible in a short amount of time. "

" Three ? "

" Don't drink more than you have to. " She huffs at the thought, considering the fact she isn't even allowed to drink. Doctor's orders — Warren' insistence. " Can old people tell the difference between cocktails and mocktails ? "

" I wouldn't know, I'm not old. "

Aurora makes a face. " Alright. "

Bruce resists the urge to roll his eyes, instead purposefully ruffling her hair. " The worst thing that could possibly happen tonight is something spilling on your dress. " He means it jokingly, something to ease her worries. Of which there were many, of which grew at the thought.

She frowns more deeply, meticulously fluffing her curls as she looks down at her dress, strapless and the blush-tone shade of pink she'd always favored. Because tonight was the night that she'd hadn't considered how messy Gotham can get.

But it's easy enough — by design. Aurora never strays too far from Bruce as he weaves through crowds, greets some and flirts with others. Truthfully it might be an accident, force of habit. But bachelors don't really change with age — even if they're divorced twice and left at the altar once.

Aurora has only met one of his wives, and he doesn't dare to talk about the almost-wife. She doesn't even know the woman's name, victim to his inability to small talk. " Have you picked yet ? "

" Picked what ? "

" Which mayoral candidate Wayne Enterprises is endorsing. "

Bruce turns his head to her, smiling softly. " I was intending to let you decide. "

" What ? Why ? "

" Unfortunately, " he shifts again, bending down to whisper next to her ear. " I'll be out of the city for a bit. I want you and Drake to work together in the matter. "

" I'd prefer Sierra. "

" I know. "

" Wayne work ? Or bat work ? "

" The latter. "

" Then can you do me a favor ? "

" I can try. " Bruce squints with obvious suspicion.

" Can you get me Black Canary's signature ? "

" You have to be kidding me — "

" No, I'm serious. She's my new favorite.

" Is that all I am to you ? A ticket to get signatures ? "

" You're just jealous cause it's not you. "

" It should be me, I'm everyone's favorite. "

" Ah, Mr. Wayne ! I hope this isn't a bad time ? "

" Shit. " He dips his head down to clear his throat, flashing his bright playboy smile as soon as the candidate is in view. " No, Miss Arkham. I was looking forward to seeing you. "

" Ha. Language. "

" Ha - ha. Quiet. "

" I'm glad. I was wondering if we could talk about the rehabilitation program ? " She was, in the classical sense, a nerd. Custom-made prescription glasses to match the pattern of her suit blazer, so color-coordinated Aurora almost felt jealous. No, she already felt jealous, watching the way the woman held herself with a scary kind of confidence.

" Now ? "

" Now. It's important. "

" No, no, I understand. This is Aurora — " Bruce's hand goes to her shoulder to give it a supportive squeeze.
" Harvey Dent's daughter. " Felicity's hand extends, but she doesn't shake it. " It's a pleasure to meet you. "

" Oh. Yeah .. the pleasure is all mine. "

There's a twitch of annoyance on her face. Typical. " You're actually the perfect person to hear this as well. I'm sure you've heard about the talk to bring back the death penalty ? "

" No. No, I haven't. "

" I don't think we should talk about this here. " Bruce, in his heroicness, was stubborn first and foremost.

" I'm fine. You can continue. " Aurora was even worse.

" It'll be a congressional vote and whomever wins the mayoral election will get the last say. It's obvious my opponents don't see the patients at Arkham as what they are — sick. " Felicity takes a pause to sip her drink, handing it back to her assistant. Espresso martini by the look of it — something stronger by the smell of it. " And everyone knows you help sick people, not put them in electric chairs. "

" Not everyone. "

" I plan on fixing that. But Gotham is stubborn, even if I win, there's no guarantee they'll all be open to change. So, baby steps. " Her hands clap together as she forces a smile, Aurora only smiling back out of habit. " My plan is to start with a small handful of patients, a wide range of different illnesses and first focus on them. It's much easier to start small and then work your way out. "

" Isn't that .. dehumanizing ? Using them as test subjects ?

" They're not test subjects. " Felicity keeps her tone terse, almost offended at the question.

" I just think it would be upsetting to find out you were used to make a point. I'd be upset, anyway. "

" Would a volunteer system work better than ? "

" I suppose so. "

A pause. The cold kind. Like she was finding the right words — fighting off the wrong ones. " If you don't mind, since you're already so helpful, I think you should assist with the program. You got your doctorate, didn't you ? "

" Yes — " Aurora's eyebrows knit together as Bruce retraces the statement. It wasn't public information, not yet anyway, but both were far too trained to comment on it. " I did. "

" And your father is making progress. Perfect, then. You must be so proud, Mr. Wayne. "

" Very. " His smile is genuine, honest, as Aurora watches with a growing sense of pride.

" Now about the Arkhams — "

" Mr. Wayne ? "

Aurora's head turns first, excited for the distraction and surely a new task, excited to see Mr. Pennyworth in all his glory.

" If you'll excuse us. Duty calls. " Bruce raises his hand to shake Felicity's hand, letting Aurora step away first. " We can pick this up later. "

" Alright. " She frowns, it's a genuine one — perhaps out of disappointment instead of actual sadness.

Alfred leads the two about a few steps to the side, backs never turning towards the crowd. A simple rule. A necessary one. " Go ahead. "

" The Falcones are here. "

" I thought I said — "

" Yes, I know, but we are not allowed to turn them in when they're funding a candidate. "

The excitement left, to the point Aurora could only frown, once again gritting her teeth.

——————

" You'll have to be careful with the enemies you make buddy, " James mumbles through another glass. " Or you'll end up like those Cobblepots. "

Alastair laughs, moving to the more spacious couch. Much to Sierra's dismay. " It was a tragedy, sure, but I figured they caused their own undoing. "

" Oh sure, but you don't make a lot of friends being like them. For all we know, Silas is calling his daddy to get you flamed by those pesky news outlets. "

" I'd be honored, but I'm sure they have more scandalous things to report on than me. I can't even remember the last time I did something remotely attention-worthy. "

Sierra sits up with interest, adjusting to lean against her couch's arm. " Nothing ? Not even a little cocaine scandal ? A threeway in college ? "

" No. As fun as both of those sound, the most interesting thing to happen to me was my mother dying. And that's not even original. " Alastair doesn't wear his sadness, but it's there, settling like an aftertaste. " I'll admit this city loves orphans. "

" Is that why you want to be mayor ? Better support plans for orphans ? "

" It's one of the reasons, yes. "

" In your speech .. you mentioned justice. That's what you want ? Justice for all ? "

" Sometimes it's enough to help others never feel pain again. " Pride. That's what he's wearing in the crease of his eyebrows and short smile on his lips, and it's almost intoxicating to Sierra as watches his eyes watch her own.

James watches, slowly sipping from his glass before he hisses out a whine. Or a sound close to one. He has no right to be jealous — not with his engagement ring tight around his finger — but he can't help it. " Hopefully Finch and Kingston can get with the program .. should I get us some more drinks ? "

" Unfortunately, I have to get ready for more press talks, by far they're the worst part of my campaign. " Alastair sets his empty glass onto the low coffee table as he stands. " It was a pleasure seeing you both. "

James nods and stands himself, pulling his friend into a hug. " Call me when you get home. We should catch up. " His hand slides up Sierra's thigh and she stills with thought, something settling in her ribs, underneath her heart like an ache she can't properly cut out.

She bites her tongue before letting her words slip through anyway. " I'll walk you to the coat room, I need to check on my sister anyway. "

——————

They walked quickly — sort of. It was the kind of speed that was just fast enough to get somewhere without interruption, while inconspicuous enough to not draw too much attention. Bruce swore underneath his breath about a shootout and Aurora, much to her own annoyance, found herself thinking about how her blood would be hard to wash out.

" I could talk to them ? " She asks as they duck into a side lounge, thankful not too many eyes would bear witness.
" Absolutely not. The Falcones pride themselves in playing with people's triggers. " Bruce does a quick turn towards her, his eyebrows drawn together with obvious overbearing concern.

" Well I'm not a man with a gun — "

" You're a sensitive woman, that's more dangerous. "

She stilled and started picking at the cuts on her fingers. " .. Thank you ? "

" Just let me handle it. Alright ? "

It was hard to admit defeat so she bowed her head into a nod, sniffing quietly, following Bruce into the conversation pit. " Mrs. Falcone. Do I need to remind you about the rules ? "

Sofia Falcone lifted her martini in a half hearted gesture of what Aurora could only assume was supposed to be an attempted cheers — instead of a hello. She's heard about the woman's broad shoulders and height before, though to see her in person is a different story. She was stunning — in an intimidating sorta way. A low cut v - neckline that would've made Sierra jealous, the blue of her dress close to midnight as her cascading black curls perfectly framed her face.

In return her children — spawn more accurately — only a few years older than Aurora, were sharper. A set of two, who curled in eager waiting near their mother like attack dogs. Their leashes were thin but tight enough. " Miss is fine. I'm unmarried. " She raises her hand like a kindergarten, mocking and dismissive. " It's hard to forget anything in relation to the Waynes, or their money all things considered. I was only hoping we could set them aside, to celebrate ? You do celebrate, don't you Brucie ? "

" When there's something to celebrate I suppose. Back to the matter at hand .. I would like you and your entourage to kindly relocate. "

" That's highly impolite. We're all equals here. "

" Are we ? Only one of us has a gun. "

Sofia stills, her eyes slowly looking down to her hidden handgun. " Are you scared Wayne ? "

" Maybe he's just traumatized, I hear it takes forever to heal from that. " The daughter speaks first. Her black hair is dyed to be darker, in compliance to Sofia's own, the only tell being it's uneven - ness. Aurora found herself doing the genetic math in her head — her father must have had lighter hair. Red probably. While her brother's father must have been a blonde, visible in the peeking roots of his even more obvious shitty dye job.

" Hush now. The adults are talking. " Sofia gives a dismissive wave of her hand, waiting until her daughter backed down to continue talking. " I swear to whatever god you believe in, we're not here to start trouble. In fact I wanted to meet the candidates. I have high hopes for the future of Gotham, as my father did before me. "

" Not me. I heard that model girl — Sierra — is back in town, is she ? " Her son barks out, teeth grinning wide in a way that made Aurora's skin cold with goosebumps.

" Where are my manners ? These are my children. My pride and joy. Lorenzo and darling Madalene. " They wave their hands, halfheartedly, and in turn Sofia moves on to the ladies in the audience. " This is my book club. "

Aurora's eyes narrowed, mumbling softly underneath her breath. A book club — a lie only believable if they read only newspaper of their husbands own crimes. They were mob wives, a few mob - side pieces. Most wore furs, their family's colors, gold — even if it didn't match their personal style.

" Well I'm sure you can hold your book club elsewhere. Hopefully not in a cell. "

" Aht aht. " Her hand waves like she's clearing the air, leaning over herself to grab a cigarette from the glass table between them. " Where are your manners Mr. Wayne ? Nobody's hurt, nobody's crying. I'm sure it's fine if we stay. It makes you look good doesn't it ? "

" It's a safety precaution. I have no interest in seeing you, your children, " Bruce continues, watching as someone else lit her cigarette. " or whoever get into any fights. "

" That's quite the assumption. Your father — " Sofia points the smoking end towards him, somewhat accusatory. " Our fathers would want us to get along Brucie. "

" Don't push it. " He grits his teeth together in a forced smile. " My father would still want class and respect on his behalf. "

" Am I not classy to you ?  Does this not demonstrate respect ? "

Bruce didn't answer that — he didn't need to — as her bottom lip twitched. " Alright. Alright. You win, we'll get out of your pretty hair. " But she holds up a finger, cigarette hanging on between her teeth. " But before that, actually. Do you want to hear a joke ? "

" I didn't realize you moonlighted as a comedian. "

" Humor me ? "

Luciano kept his attention on Aurora's chest as he shifted away from his mother, keeping a bit of loyalty to his last name — even if eyes like a falcon wasn't a saying — in turn she shifted and huddled herself behind her godfather, who tilted his body away from the group in its entirety.

" A Wayne walks into a movie theater, only half of him walks out. You want to know why ? "

Bruce's eyebrow raised. " Why ? "

" Because he's filled with holes. "

Madalene laughed first, she laughed the loudest. Sofia gestured her hand to get her hens to join in. It was scary in a way, the dedication and loyalty to a woman with a hairpin trigger somewhere beneath her ego.

" You'll have to excuse us, Mr. Wayne, I've been thinking about that one for a while now. "  A puff of smoke, smug lips pulling into a grin.

" No no .. it's hilarious. Let me ask you this. " Bruce leans forward so their heads are level, cold eyes watching her mocking grin. " How is your father ? "

Sofia's teeth grit, fingers twitch, cigarette forgotten and dropped onto the black velvet upholstery as her free hand reached for the handgun in her hand bag. " You ..  I don't imagine you know what it's like being in a coma ?  Do you want to find out ? " She halfheartedly aims it at his chest, all eyes on the last living Wayne. " I wouldn't mind helping you. "

" Miss. Sofia Falcone, pulling out a weapon on the property is strictly forbidden. "  Bruce smiled.  " Move it or be removed. " 

Alfred stepped in from the corner of Aurora's eye, standing straight with a cocked head. " Miss. Sofia. I hope your father raised you better than this. "

Her face twisted with a familiar look. Hurt. Aurora could understand why, a part of her could respect her eagerness to defend her father's name — though unfair when he only had a coma and her's had arguably worse.

Sofia's hand shakes once, tossing the gun back where it belonged. Apparently no longer interested in their game of chicken. " You win, Wayne. I mean no harm, really. " As she stands she picks her cigarette up, further grinding it into the smoldering bit of velvet until it was completely out. " I hope we'll get the chance to talk properly sometime. "

As they file out, some of the wives waving longingly towards Bruce, Aurora watches as Sofia is the last to go — and she waves goodbye. Lorenzo gives her arm a squeeze and she finds herself leaning into him out of habit.

" You should call me. " His number, written in red ink, is handed over on a somewhat crumpled napkin — scribbled next to 'nice tits'.

" Thanks. "

——————

Alastair stretched out, trading a ticket for his jacket, as Sierra shamelessly watched the untucked part of his shirt rise so slightly when he puts it on. " You'll have to excuse my eagerness to leave. I haven't been out of a suit in a few days now. "

" What do you sleep in ? If you don't mind me asking. "

" Silk usually. It was a gift. "

There's a thought. About Alastair in his silk sheets, white she imagines, with his hair the right kind of messy. Another thought. A body against his, that circles through a million different faces before it lands on her own. It's a thought she'll keep.

" If you don't mind .. what are your thoughts on the other candidates ? "

" I should've asked, " his shoulders roll back, " you're not a reporter are you ? James wasn't clear on that front. "

" No. Law student — I just graduated. "

" Congrats. I imagine it's exciting in a city of criminals ? "
She smiles, covering her laugh with the palm of her hand. " You really should answer my question, Alastair. "

" I don't have an opinion on them. For the most part. It'd be a little too easy to call Silas an asshole. "

" Is there an outcome you're hoping for ? "

" Besides me winning ? No not really. Is there something you're hoping for ? "

" Plenty. But I don't want to bore your pretty little face about it. "

" I doubt you'd bore me. " She means it. Perhaps too much. He was the farthest thing from boring, and that was enough. " At least let me ask about what interests you ? "

" Truthfully ? Not much. I like books, I like history. " Sierra felt herself get dizzy with a stupid kind of want. The desperate need fuck him on the spot kind — she bit the inside of her cheek.

" Are you seeing anyone, Mr. Alastair ? "

" No. You'd see it in the news if I was. "

" You should, it might help your popularity if people think you're a family guy. You have the face for it. "

" I'm confused. Are you volunteering to give me a family, Miss Sierra ? "

She hesitates, only smiling widely. He smiles back. That want changing into something suffocating.

" I'm flattered but I should go before Vale notices I'm leaving. "

" If that's what you're trying to accomplish you should've been out of the door by now, Alastair. "

" Will you get home alright ? "

" Yes. " She thinks about saying more, watching the soft concern in his face. But she settles with the ache. " I have to go back to the office first and James said he'll take me. "

A beat. Sierra now chewing on her bottom, suddenly mourning the loss of his muscles, his face — his everything really.

" I'll keep an eye out for you then. "

" I'll try to be easy to find. " She waves, even when his back is turned, giddy like a school girl when he waves back.

She waits, sits with it, somewhat chasing the smell of his cologne as she stepped back towards the main hall.

A blonde head peaked from behind one of the decorative columns. " He seems nice. Hot. " Aurora whispers for the effect of childish gossip, which isn't really necessary if *everyone* agrees with you.

" He doesn't like your father. " She says too quickly. " How long were you standing there ? "

" Not many people do. " A pause. " A minute or two I think. "

Sierra has a special bone, muscle, whatever that seemingly exists to protect her sister. It's out of habit, a few years without practice and yet she finds it itching again, sore from how much she missed it.

" If I were to invite him as a plus one to your wedding how would he react ? Assuming your dad walks you down the aisle. "

" I didn't know we were considering my would - be - wedding or bringing Alastair as a plus one so early into meeting him. Do you do that with every guy ? "

" No, " Sierra's brows knit together. " He's just serious then most. "

" Serious men are famously good at sex, aren't they ? "

" No. Usually the opposite. " She laughs, just a little, though it's hushed underneath the mocking sounds her sister makes. " I thought you'd be with Warren tonight ? As much as his fiancée allows for anyway. "

Sadness settles on the blonde's face almost naturally, always there, always hidden. " Hm ? No .. not tonight. He said he has work tonight and I was working too. "

" Doing what ? "

" I didn't tell you ? "

" No. I would've remembered. "

" I'm working for Bruce, " she smiles widely and waits for the other's reaction in return. " Like officially. "

" I thought you wanted to be a doctor ? " Sierra reached out first, their lands locking together with a slight shake, then supportive squeeze.

" No. At least I don't think I do. I like this though. Makes me feel like a sexy intern in a porno. "

" Please don't say that. "

" I'm kidding ! It's mostly so I can continue being a violinist, I don't think I'm ready to go full music nerd yet. "

Sierra waits, for what she's not too sure. The cicadas return to her rib cage, followed with the haunting fear of emptiness. " Why didn't you tell me ? "

" About what ? "

" Your fucking heart surgery. " It comes out meaner than she intends, regret stuffed down before she can fix it.

Aurora frowns then her lips go straight, turning away — pulling away from Sierra's hands — to get her jacket from the man behind the desk. " Because you were in New York for fuck's sake. I didn't tell Warren either if that makes you feel better. "

" I would've — you could die. "

" I'm aware, that's why they made me wait so long. I had to feel out a consent form and everything. "

" If you died and I wasn't there — "

" Oh please. You're here now, I'm not dead. You still have time. " Aurora hisses through clenched teeth, waving as she pulled away and Sierra waves back, no giddyness left when her sister turns away.

" Are you ready ? " James Wilder. Always there when he needed to be, when she wanted him.

She frowns but nods. " Let me get my jacket. "

——————

They've been driving for a minute now, the dark clouds over Gotham . If she was a better woman, a better anything, she wouldn't turned down his offer, gotten a cab or asked to be taken by someone she wouldn't consider fucking. But it's not her fault James needs her, and it's not her fault he takes the scenic route. As scenic as you can get in this city.

Sierra waits until they're inbetween where they're coming from and where they're going, an excuse of traffic if needed. " You mean it then ? " She asks without needing to, enjoying the sounds of confirmation he made as her head turns towards him.

" Alastair is a friend. He might be a little too passionate about the 'no vigilantes thing' but he's the best guy here. "

Sierra knew that. Wasn't hard to pick up, but the statement still settled in her heart, hidden underneath her rib cage. There was something that tied Alastair and James together, despite their differences, and a part of her needed to be between it. Tied in their ropes, in their lives, living in their skull twenty four seven. A little voice in the back of her head wondered if she could fuck them both, ask the other to watch, or if they'd prefer to have her entirety.

" Pull over. "

" Hm ? "

" I don't want to wait. "

Men you can't have, and can't keep taste better, Sierra decided as she led him to the backseats. It's a dance of secrecy that she enjoyed, to sin and be sinned for. He didn't hesitate much, he never did. Won't be the last time, no matter how many times James swore he'd be a better man, a better would - be - husband. She sat in his lap and moved her hips against him, waiting until he gasped for air to dip down and kiss him.

She took his hand, starting by kissing his knuckles, then the tip of his fingers, pulling them into her eager open mouth til perfect teeth could pull off his engagement ring with only a little gag. She sets it aside in the car's console. Sometimes that was her favorite part, the little mark the metal would leave behind when he held her too hard or handled her too snugly. He never marked her, not on purpose, unless she begged, unless she fucked him just right while screaming he's the only one that can make her feel like this. It's not a lie, not technically.

His hands move to her waist so she moves her own underneath his belt, using them to pull his length free. Even with the cool air, he's perfect, pretty and excited for her. Soft fingers are made wet from her tongue so she can stroke him slowly, happy to ready him — and in turn — herself. The sound of her name coming from his lips made her shiver, desperate again, as always.

His head tilts back, his neck so perfect for her with it's sharp breaths, making her fight off the urge to give him hickeys. She bit her tongue but spoke anyway, " you don't do this with her .. do you ? " when James shakes his head, too high off the feeling of her, she almost laughs. It was a sickening routine. When she finally leads him inside she almost comes on the spot.

As her hips moved and her hands found space underneath his shirt, a part of her hoped for the worse. For James to get selfish and pick her, or for his fiancée to leave first. Wether it's with another man or in a body bag. Maybe she's a lesbian with a fear of being a housewife. Kelsey, might be wearing his ring, and maybe she really will get his last name in the future — but Sierra had James at his worst. Making it his best. He deserved better than someone so stale, complacent, ordinary. He needed better. He needed her.

James Wilder. Sierra Wilder. She tilts her head back and moans, loud on purpose, eyes open just enough to see a text message from Alastair ping on his phone. Alastair White. Sierra White.

She bit her tongue again, imagining it was Alastair instead. When she played with James' hair she imagined it was Alastair's curls, a perfect purposeful mess. Did he get bed head with those soft curls ? Did he prefer head in laying down or standing up ? Did he fuck or make love ? Would he prefer watching her ass or her tits ? To compare the men was stupid, childish, but she couldn't stop — even as she felt James fill her up. That only made her sentimental.

As the windows fog she reaches out to spell out words, backwards, practiced. We just fucked. A proud declaration even if it'll be wiped away in a few minutes, seconds maybe, if she keeps bouncing on his length with such obvious desperation. She watches him, admires him. The rise and fall of his chest, the sweat of want taut on his skin. Her head tilts down to lick his neck and the sounds he makes is almost enough to sedate her need to mark him.

When she finishes, only a minute or two after him, she moves down to her knees in front of him. " I want to make a deal with you, " he shifts almost nervously — most likely too horny to properly think. He was best like that.

" I want you to work for Alastair and his campaign. " Her tongue drags against him and he nods.

" I already told you I was considering it. "

" I know. But I want you to make it official. I'll stand by you and we can ask Aurora for Wayne's support. "

" What do you get it out of it ? "

" You and us. " Sierra gives a smile, the same one on magazine covers and in men's wet dreams. " You'll be too busy for Kelsey and just imagine the fame when he wins. You can be a savior of Gotham, and I'll be right by your side. "

He's breathless, wordless, at first as he fights against the clingy need to comment on the nickname. Sierra watches the guilt in his face leave just as it appears, replaced with consideration.

" Alright. "

Her smile is brighter than before, leaning in to capture his lips in a kiss of mutual delight. He was perfect, when he wanted to be. She whispered against his lips like a prayer, a hand holding his cheek. " Say it. Please ? "

" You have a deal, Sierra. " So they seal it with another kiss, panting inbetween, before she makes the right sound and his dick is in her mouth in celebration.

——————

Birdie — Edison actually — laughed, cackled even, from his position on the balcony, his back turned towards the quieting party. " No I'm serious, that Alastair dude is nothing but hot air. Logan is only worse cause he's got his own foot up his ass. That Felicity chick is delusional, nobody is voting for her. "

He blows out a puff of smoke, shifts the phone underneath his ear. " So about that deal ? " A long pause, anxiety and irritation seeping through his gritted teeth. " No no — you promised. I did exactly what you wanted and this is the thanks I get ? "

The opposing voice snaps back, harsh and toothy. Eddie with all he was worth, took it. A mutt that earned it's time in timeout, for he got too cocky in picking his scraps. Again.

If Eddie was smarter he'd remember tales about sirens, about false hope, or false security hidden in pretty words. But Edison wasn't a smart man. He was hardly a man on a good day.

He waited and nodded, correcting themself with a " yes, " and when they remembered a phone can't hear the movement of their head.

" I'm loyal, there's not a motherfucker here who's more loyal than me. " A lie. An easy one. " I know I just — nobody's going to vote for him if they're busy riding Alastair's dick. You know what I think ? "

They didn't ask, and they quickly reminded him of such. " Right. Right. I'm sorry. At least let me .. right. " He shifts away when another person steps outside, not bothering to look their way.

" Do you have a smoke ? "

They take out a pack of cigarettes and lighter from his blazer pocket, handing it over with a huff. " Give it back when you're done. "

If Edison was smarter they'd know to look up, he'd keep his mouth shut and listen, maybe he'd be still alive. But he isn't — because Birdie isn't a smart man.

It's a sudden thing, he doesn't even think to scream as he's pushed over the balcony, his phone getting swiped away from the same hands previously on his back. The fall is fast. Quick is a better word. Unfortunately so. Maybe if he was higher up he'd be given the grace of a quick death.

Instead he lands just enough for the right things to twist and break. His left arm now pulled back thanks to the dislocated shoulder, the bones in their legs peaking out through gashes, blood seeping from their cracked skull and rose thorn cuts. Instead Edison is given a slow, suffering death.

He is given the taste of his own blood as they choke on it, the gust of cold wind putting out his cigarette, and the sight of his phone falling around him in bits and pieces.

That's overkill, he thinks. It's under kill, his killer returns the thought. Birdie died as he lived. Cowardly, alone and cold, smelling of tobacco and cheap alcohol. The last thing they hear is the scream of a woman, all too familiar, all too distant.

——————

SEPTEMBER.
monday, 23 — 2024.

" I'm here on the location of last night's party, and today's suspected murder. "

In Gotham new cameras and reporters were like flies. Locust. Wasp. Their news stations are like an annoying nest near your front door. They swarmed, picking at the poor man's bones like some self righteous vulture. Sierra weaved through the crowd, eyebrows pulled together in irritation. She never understood why murder was still so exciting for Gotham — surely if you see it everything it's not as interesting.

At the sight of her sister she took her hand, then arm, leading past caution tape and into the building's side entrance in camera avoidance. A trained
" Walk and talk. Who died ? "

" Finch's assistant. Everyone calls him Birdie ? "

Sierra frowned, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tried to force herself to remember their name. " Oh — wait. Did you know him ? "

" Kinda. Just through Cass and Warren. I think he was apart of their .. chess club. Whatever it is rich boys do instead of ballet. " Her hand waves dismissive, both girls ducking and hid from passing officers. " Do you remember that pool party I told you about ? He was there. Nerdy guy, maybe a little angsty. "

" Enough to kill himself ? "

Silence between them to think it over. " No .. I don't think so ? But I don't think you can tell from a one time interaction. "

" Girls ! You can't be here. " A shout from behind, both girls turning to meet an officer. Cadet. Fresh meet by the look of it.

Sierra shifts to stand up straight, with a slight arch of her back — grinning as the cadet's skin turned red. Aurora gritted her teeth as she grab's her sister's arm.

" Actually, we were asked to be here. Wayne Enterprise officials. " Her stress obvious, somewhat disgusted by the idea of watching the two flirt. " It happened on Wayne property, and we're the closest things to Waynes. Insurance and all that. "

" Yes ! We're witness adjacent. " Sierra adds. " And we'll be making a donation to his family as well. "

Commissioner Gordon cleared his throat, patting the cadet's shoulder. " Let them in, Scotty, they're on Wayne's clock. "

" Speaking of, " there's a vague gesture of his hand to the girls before scratching at his growing beard. " When is Wayne getting here ? "

" Not until it's called in as an official murder. Since it didn't sound like an accident. " Sierra starts and Aurora finishes. " Or a suicide. "

" We're waiting for the official toxicology report but it's obvious he was drinking. Everyone was. "

" That's why you have no witnesses. " Sierra's shoulders shrug, giving Scotty a little wave as he leaves.

" I hate it when you two try to get involved. What happened to girls wanting to be models or chefs ? " Gordon shakes his head, leading them out into the foyer with other officers.

" Sierra does both. "

" Alright. You know the rules. " But he'll remind them anyway with a huff from behind his mustache, a finger pointing between them like it was pointing at both. " No touching the body.. "

" No stealing evidence. "

" And no talking to the press until you're issued a statement. "

" Are we allowed to sit in for the interrogations ? " Sierra asks first.

" That's highly irregular and normally I'd say no.. but this isn't official business yet. We're just covering ground. Just stay quiet and don't interrupt. You hear me ? I'll tell Wayne to ground you for a week. "

" But - "

" Make that two weeks. "

A nod, a grumble, Aurora stepping back to let Sierra take the lead. " Oh and Gordon ? Where's Alastair ? "

" Bullock's talking to him. "

——————

" Where were you last night ? "

" My office. "

" By yourself ? "

" With my secretary, then by myself. "

" Oh I'm sure. "

" I'd hope so officer. It's your job to be sure. Isn't it ? "

Bullock sits his coffee on the table, ignoring the coasters and staining the wood. Alastair cringed. " I want this over just as much as you do, y' know ? And I'm supposed to disclose that you're not an official suspect yet, this isn't an official interrogation. You're free to leave at anytime. " His teeth grit together so he pick out a crumb of leftover donut. " But we can handle this like adults. Cooperation makes my job easier. "

" I am cooperating. I'm answering your questions. They just happen to be stupid. "

" You think you're smart ? "

" I think I'm a goddamn genius. "

Rooms with oval tables, wide windows and chairs with thin leather lining were hard to make threatening. Unless you're a principal telling some kids about their new spot in detention, but Bullock wasn't that — wasn't a hard working servant to the system much less a hard working anything. He tapped his fingers on the table with such obvious irritation that Alastair almost went insane.

Sierra stepped inside first, then Aurora, both leaning back against the wall with various levels of their own irritation. Bullock turned back first.

" What are you two doing here ? "

" Not an official case yet, detective, we're allowed to watch. " Sierra's smile is kept small. It's a formality, a trained response.

Bullock scoffs and pushes up and away from his chair, Sierra shifting to angle herself between him and her sister.
" Lucky you. Don't let it go to your head, but he's all yours. " He gestures his hand back at Alastair who gasps loudly like he was offended. He wasn't. The detective left, grumbling under his breath the whole way.

" Did he threaten you ? "

" Hardly, unless you want to count his inability to speak without spitting as something threatening. " Alastair stretched out, cracking until the hard wooden chair felt like a dreaded memory instead of a constriction. In turn Sierra watched him, shamelessly, desperately. She resisted the urge to mother him, to hold his face in her hands to kiss the stress from his brows, or to fuck the tension from his muscles. His very pretty muscles.

Aurora loudly cleared her throat as the two continued eye fucking. It wasn't the first time she's seen it — won't even be the last — but that only made it worse. " Right, right. " Sierra gestured to the shorter blonde. " This is Aurora. She's like my sister. "

Alastair offers his hand but she doesn't take it. " She's not really supposed to .. shake hands. " But he's far from offended and Sierra finds her heart doing cartwheels.

" I bruise easily. " When she smiles her nose scrunches up, holding up a pale hand. " It's a blood condition. "

" I understand. I have to talk to my assistant about my schedule, but if you two .. want to talk I'll still be on the property. "

" We'll catch up with you. " Sierra's head gestures to the door and officers outside it. " We have some Wayne business to do. "

Alastair smiled small, a hand on Sierra's shoulder before he steps away. " I look forward to seeing you both again. "

" I'm gonna be honest I thought he was going to get you pregnant from all the eye fucking you were doing. "

Sierra slowly squinted, head turns back to meet her's. " Do you want me to ask Warren to come get you ? "

" .. You're really mean to me. "

" Walk it off. "

They step into the hall, met with most officers preoccupied to mind them. Though one sat up, not in uniform — not a cop. He waved them over, both forcing smiles.

" Mr. Kingston right ? I assume you're here to .. "

" Nothing truthfully. " He laughs, sorta, putting his cigarette out in an old coffee cup. " How well do you know that Alastair fella ? "

" I was told that you're retired and all, sir. No offense. " Aurora shuffles out first. Unfortunately for her she had a habit of remembering every cop that has ever punched her father, despite the numbers — unfortunately for them she holds grudges like they're her only lifeline.

" I am. But I'm told you two are Wayne's kids — "

" Not his kids. " Sierra corrects too quickly, awkwardly shifting into forced relaxation. " We just work for him. With him. Sometimes. "

" Right .. well I was going to ask if you were aware of the rumors. "

" About Alastair ? Or about the case ? " She sucks her teeth. " I wasn't really aware there were rumors for either. "

" I'm surprised you're out of the loop, I know how girls love to gossip. Some say he's an Arkham escapee with a bone to pick, others are more into the him being out of state assassin looking to take down gotham completely. " Logan lifted his cigarette to toss it completely, halfheartedly waving to the two. " I wouldn't waste Wayne's money if I were you. "

Aurora scoffed as they walked, waiting until he was out of earshot. " What do you think ? "

" Him ? If he was going to kill someone it would be by a bullet to the head or strangulation. "

" Either way he probably killed someone. " Aurora glanced at her sister and frowned. " I think you should wait. "

" What ? Why ? "

" Because this isn't a you thing. Not yet. We don't even know if foul play was involved. "

" Alastair is still a main suspect. I'd prefer to know if he killed someone before anyone else did. "

" I know .. but Bruce said Gotham's political nonsense is different from the other nonsense. You, we, don't have enough information yet. They don't have enough information yet. "

There's a silence between them, the comfortable kind, filled only with the louder voices of others in surrounding rooms. House training wasn't common apparently.

" Alright detective, let's play. " Sierra gestured her head to the side, the two walking aimlessly as they talked, playing detective like they used to. First a separate room with a replicant balcony, not blocked off with police tape.

" They didn't jump. Anyone suicidal would know that fall wouldn't kill you. They were pushed, most likely by someone they knew. " Aurora tilts her head out and over the edge, eyes scanning back into the room. " Depending on how many people were actually here it's possibly nobody saw anything. It gets dark. "

" Someone he knew for a while. They would've turned around if it was someone they met at the party. " Sierra sighs, the annoyed kind. " It was probably a guy. I don't think an untrained woman could do all that. "

" Are you sure ? "

" I'm dead sure. "

" It's a guy .. but are they trained ? Like a hit job ? "

" Maybe. Which means Alastair isn't fully excused. " Aurora steps out first and Sierra follows, at some point trading places with the other.

" You didn't go home with him. Didn't properly .. study him. "

" Didn't need to. I'm a people person. "

" I don't think you should put that much faith in him yet, you hardly know him. "

" And what do you think I should do ? "

" Play the long game at least. Fuck him until he tells you if he killed someone. "

" Has your vocabulary always been so graphic ? " Sierra's eyes roll, now leading her sister down a hallway with mocking shock.

" I learned it from you. But you shouldn't be so trusting. We have yet to have a mayor who isn't some kind of criminal. "

" Do you want to bet on it ? "

" No. Maybe. Yes. I'll think about it. " Aurora laughed, opening the doors to the courtyard, her eyes on the growing crowd of news cameras. " You usually cheat. "

" Humor me. Since when did you care about Gotham's political nonsense ? "

" Since always. I'm only now old enough to be involved. Besides I was talking to Arkham last night .. I don't know if I trust her rehabilitation plan. "

" Speaking of .. are you going to see Harvey today ? "

" I am. " Her arms cross as she leans against the marbel fencing.

" Do you want me to take you ? "

" No. Thank you. I have to pick up some flowers first, maybe some kind of baked good. "

" I doubt he's allowed to keep them. "

" Sometimes. If I ask this one guard nicely enough. "

" Oh .. ew. " Sierra's smile turns into a scowl, head dramatically shaking.

" Don't be hypocritical. "

" Yeah yeah. What flower store are you going to ? "
" The usual. Why ? "

" I suggest The Lab — Flower Lab, instead. They're pretty well loved. "

" By your boyfriends ? " She scoffs out a laugh, pointing an accusatory finger at the other. " For their fuck me gifts and apology gifts ? "

" Both actually. It usually works on me .. so it'll work on anyone. "

" You're gross. "

" You asked. "

They look back towards the larger windows, watching as Alastair and his assumed secretary pass by. " Are you staying with him then ? "

" Mhm. Tell Bruce we'll be funding his campaign. "

" Sierra, you're kidding. " A loud groan. " You might as well propose to him. I'm not telling Bruce anything until you can confirm he's good. "

" Is that a promise ? "

" Swear on my life. "

Sierra reaches her hand out first, their pinky fingers intertwining as she kisses her thumb. She enjoyed the silence, the moments inbetween spent with Aurora, doing her best to shove every sour thought to the back of her mind.

The doors open, interrupting that comfort — leaving her to face those sour thoughts instead. " Cassie ! " Aurora's sung, or chirped. Whichever was more girly, high pitch, as she reached out for a tight hug that he was more than willing to return.

Cassie. Cass. Cassius, who much to Sierra's surprise, wore a bird pin just like Birdie's, just like Finch's. From this angle she could see it wasn't an actual finch, instead a silver shrike. She's heard about it before — during Aurora's bird watching phase. One that she never really left. " I didn't know you two were apart of Finch's campaign team. "

" Warren didn't tell you ? "

" .. No ? "

" You two have been spending so much time I just figured, " Cassius gave a sly smile as his head tilted, his hand innocently running down Aurora's back. " What do you two talk about then ? If not work ? "

Sierra cringed, Aurora frowned. Protecting Aurora from the world was hard, sure, but Sierra found that unfortunately protecting her sister's heart from her own crimes was harder.

Still, she'd be damned if Warren' blonde pet was going to dog walk her. " Warren doesn't talk about work. Considering the school curriculum is more than taxing enough. But I'm happy for him .. and you. It must be exciting. "

" Oh it is .. I hear you picked. Alastair right ? " His smile faulters, mockingly, as he turns completely to Aurora. Two blondes were a nightmare — leaving Sierra to squint from the reflection of light from their hair. " Speaking of. Since you ladies don't mind the interruption, Ju - Ju sent me to pick up princess blondie here. "

Aurora glowed, more so than usual, turning her head towards Sierra with a thankful smile. " Isn't he sweet ? " Sierra could only resist the urge to gag.

" I'll call you ? Alright ? "

Aurora waves goodbye so Sierra waves back, frowning when she was just enough out of view. That was the worst part — she decided in the uncomfortable kind of silence — sitting with your own actions. So she refuses to, now searching for Alastair in the courtyard.

" Are you going back to your office ? "

" I am. Unfortunately they haven't paused the race so I still have work to do. " She admires him quitely, comfortable with it again, watching the arch of his brow.

" I should probably be asking if I'm supposed to go to the man's funeral. "

" You don't remember his name ? "

" Do you ? "

" No .. " A smile, reaching her hand out to his arm. " Can I ride with you ? I want to help with your campaign. "

" I'm all yours. "

——————

Alastair was different when he was with her and, truthfully, it made her feel special. Better. " People are saying you're a golden boy. " She moved two steps behind as he shook his head.

" Are they ? They used to call Harvey Dent Apollo, you remember that ? That damned him I think. "

He opens his office doors for her and she smiled, kissing his cheek. " They call Bruce Wayne the prince of Gotham. I don't think titles damn you .. just people. "

The office itself was like a museum, old books lining the dark green walls, gold accents on — everything. Long velvet couches separated by side tables of more books, potted plants and a circle table painted with a t - rex skull. The middle school dinosaur obsession never left, apparently, only adapted into the academic influences of other such classics. She smiled. " You like old dead things ? "

" I wanted to be an archaeologist. That was expensive so instead I got an English degree. " He moves to the couch that's facing her, hunching over to take a box of cigars from underneath it — in turn she leans back against the closed doors. Her chest rising with steady breaths and a push up bra she didn't really need.

" I could be your attorney. Your campaign manager. Anything. " She watches his face, eyes big and adoring. " I wouldn't mind it. "

He doesn't look back up until he's done lighting his cigar's end and the sight alone makes Sierra smile, stepping closer so she's sat by his side. " No offense but I think James wants that position. And believe me, I have no interest in coming inbetween you two or your weird routine. "

" You wouldn't be. Not really. "

" Not really ? "

" Do you want me ? Or do you want James ? " Her hand is on his thigh, a nail absentmindedly tracing hearts against him. " Think about it. People love me, they love you, they'd love us. "

" You want to be an us ? "

" Yes. I think you want that too. "

Sierra thanked any god that would listen for her choice to wear a low cut shirt as she sat on her knees in front of his spread legs, arching her back just enough for him to watch the rise and fall of her chest. " Be an us with me. "

Alastair stared at her face, admiring the perfection of it. Of course she was pretty, gorgeous and stunning. Sierra was made to be looked at and unfortunately for him she knew it. Her polished nails slowly made their way up his thigh, the other hand taking his cigarette to her own lips.

" At least let me ask why. "

" Why what ? "

" Why aren't you with James, begging him to pick instead ? "

Because he still has that ring on his finger, she thinks about it until the taste of his knuckles returns to her tongue, because in the end he'll still chose Kelsey.

But she doesn't speak.

She sits up, leans closer when he leans back, blowing smoke against his lips til he could taste her cherry lipstick. " Do you believe it ? Do you genuinely believe that you can change Gotham ? That you can save it ? "

" I wouldn't be here if I didn't. "

" Say it. For me. "

" I believe that Gotham can change, and I will make that change happen. "

" I believe in you. That's why. "

              aurora, warren, cassius, alastair and all mayoral candidates belong to me.　 sierra and james belong to star.