The Fear Dissertation // A Jonathan Crane Dark Romance

78

I knew the Bat would find me eventually.

And rather than risk him coming too close for a look, I've donned my Unkindness disguise and come to the same rooftop we last met. Sitting on the ledge, knees tucked to my chest, I've been watching the streets below. Watching all the people live their lives, laughing or sulking or shouting, listening to the gunshots from blocks away and the sirens that roar up in response. Everyone happy. Everyone alive.

Did the Joker put JJ up to gassing them all, I wonder? Was it one of his harebrained schemes? Did my son end up becoming the fall guy? Things could have been different. Things could have been so, so different if Jonathan and I had lived. Not for the first time, I want the blood of the men who killed us. I want to make them pay. But with no way of figuring out who they were, I'm left with a whole lot of anger and nowhere to put it.

"You said you'd be in touch."

Batman's voice breaks me out of my thoughts. I turn my head slightly, but not all the way.

"I'm here, aren't I?"

He says, "You handed me nothing but a graveyard."

"I had to get your attention."

"And now you have it."

I stand to my feet, eyebrows raising behind my mask as I face him. "And now you've found me. Which means you need me."

His jaw tightens, and I can tell I'm right. "Falcone," he says. "You know him?"

"I know everyone." I suppress a sigh. "Falcone's a big fish. You want my advice? Get yourself warmed up with smaller fry before you go for the boss."

"I don't want small fry. I want Falcone."

I frown. "Why?"

"Let's just say it's personal." Batman shifts his weight.

"You've got no chance," I say flatly. "Falcone owns half the city. He's got every cop and judge in his pocket, and even if you extradited him somewhere nobody's heard his name, there's no evidence tying him to violent crime. He has goons to do that for him."

Batman says, "I don't care about evidence. I care about justice."

"You can't be judge, jury, and executioner. No one can."

He grunts. "Can you get to him, or not?"

Yes—through Jonathan. But the Jonathan I knew would never let me within ten feet of Falcone, and the new Jonathan would never trust me enough to even have the conversation. But I can't tell Batman that. This is the first thing he's asked of me. I need to deliver if I want to earn his trust.

I say, "What's in it for me?"

"Thought you were in it for protection."

I raise my eyebrows. "I don't feel very protected."

"Would you like an armed guard?" He asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.

I inhale. "I'll need a place to lay low. I can't risk these thugs following me home each night."

"Unkindness, if you want an invitation back to my place, all you had to do was ask."

Definitely Bruce Wayne. I can hear the arrogance slip into his voice. "And if you want to be the next corpse in the vault, keep talking like that."

He hums a soft laugh. "Falcone's at the Iceberg Lounge. Don't let him leave until sunrise."

"Tonight?" I ask, swallowing a lump in my throat. I hadn't even told Harleen I was leaving—in fact, I kind of snuck out while she was snoring loudly on the couch, empty takeout containers at her feet.