Identity Who: Gilda and Sal Maroni; Gordon and Batman; Scarecrow and Talia Where: By the harbor When: Night, after the Narrows bridge riot What: A clandestine meeting
Gilda jumped at the touch of his hand on her arm, her breath uneven frightened. Salvatore Maroni cupped her shoulder in his big, warm palm and soothed her, "Hey, it's just me."
Gilda's shaking hand was covering her mouth making sure she didn't cry out; she moved it nervously to her neck, rubbing unconsciously. She didn't even pretend to return his smile. "Jesus, Sal," she murmured, "I didn't even hear your footsteps."
"Yeah, well," he chuckled, "that's kinda the idea, ain't it?" He dipped his head and before she realized what he intended, his lips were moving towards hers, her big hand now holding the back of her neck and she squirmed away, trying to pull her close again."
"No, Sal!" she insisted, her voice small, frightened. "I told you, I can't."
"Because you're a married woman?" he mocked. "That didn't stop your husband with that pretty piece of ass DA he was boning six months ago."
"He had to," Gilda replied as vehemently as she could muster. "Sh-she made all of this possible, Arkham City." Sal made a face and Gilda pursed his lips. "He's never cheated on me." It sounded more like a squeak than an assertion to Maroni. He raised his eyebrows and scoffed, trying to decide if she really believed it or not. He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it hard and forcing her to look up into his face.
"What, you think that other one was the one shovin' it in her?" he said, that smug grin on his face. "That... Two Face. An appropriate name, don't you think? Ironic, even, given the circumstances." She didn't answer and his expression hardened. "Listen to me, unless you want all of fuckin' Gotham to know who the real Holiday was, you're going to play ball with me, right? We went over this, sweet Gilly."
"You're right," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear and glancing around suspiciously, anxiously. She gave him a smile now, a little, tremulous thing. "Of course you're right, Sal; you explained it all to me."
"Damn right I did, baby," he said with a leer and then pressed his mouth to hers, his hand squeezing her ass. If Harvey could do this with Porter, she could do this with Maroni; she just had to think of other things as his tongue slipped into her mouth, of Harvey, her Apollo. The man who could do no wrong in her eyes. "Now, tell me what you know."
***
"How are you?"
Jim shrugged. "The contagion fades, but the impressions, they stay. That antidote you came up with, it works wonders." He paused. "Babs signed Bertinelli out of the hospital," he said, leaning against the ledge, feeling the cold autumn air gusting up toward him. The fall had finally come. The Batman loomed behind the glaring light of the signal, a hulking shadow, silent in contemplation.
"I know," he replied simply.
"Of course you do," sighed Jim. "You'd know all about it. Your idea? Probably shouldn't ask. She's gone under the radar all this time, after her parents.... Probably your doing." He was quiet for a moment and Batman made no reply; Jim hadn't expected one, though his next question did surprise him.
"You never asked Babs, did you?"
"Nope."
"Why? Afraid it will ruin my mystique?" Was that playfulness Jim heard?
Jim laughed dryly. "Plausible deniability, actually." He thought he heard a scratchy sound that might have been something he'd never heard before: Batman's laughter. "Sometimes, I'm sure I know, and then I..." He shrugged a shoulder. "Change my mind, I suppose."
"How are you?"
"Is that why you lit the signal? To talk about Bertinelli?"
"You tell me your handling the situation, I trust it." Jim took a deep breath and removed his glasses, wiping them on his shirt and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Babs has been analyzing the Gilda Dent tape. She thinks that Gilda... she thinks she was in on it. The blows were... they were staged."
"It could have just been Harvey," Batman said, though Jim could hear the softness to the tone, as if he were trying to lighten the blow, "what's left of Harvey Dent, not wanting to hurt her."
"We both want to believe it, old friend," Jim sighed, his breath coming out in a puff of white mist. "And neither of us do. You don't have to coddle me, not after all these years together. Gilda, I just can't.... She was friends with Helen. She babysat! She was always so good with the kids; there was such longing there. What you said to me, a long time ago...."
"The Holiday killer," Batman guessed, and that only confirmed Jim's fears. "Julian Day, he called Holiday, 'she.' I thought he was toying with me. But the Alberto Falcone's confession's been proven false. And you remember what Harvey said? 'There are two holiday killers.'"
"But... how could she? Gilda is... sweet and timid and..."
"Devoted. She wanted to be with Harvey," Batman said simply. "And now she is."
"Babs found the security tape, from the hospital," Jim continued. "From Thanksgiving. It was buried in evidence, from when we suspected... Harvey; I don't think anyone had reviewed it. You knew, all this time, didn't you? You knew for sure: Holiday was the Dents. They did it for each other." But when he turned around, the shadow of the Bat was gone. "I'm not even sure what to believe in anymore. Except for you," he said to seemingly no one.
***
"You," Crane said, his voice shuddering with an anxious note of fear. The figure drew back its hood and stepped from the shadow of the alley into the dim and flickering light of the streetlamp. He began to babble, "It wasn't my fault, I did all I could my end of the job...."
She held her hand up, drawing her hood down and releasing a cascade of dark brown hair. "I'm not here on behalf of the League of Shadows," Talia Al Ghul assured him. "I have my own business to see to. "And I'm not looking to join your... rebellion either, though I am willing to trade information for help."
"I can talk to Dent...."
"No!" she said sharply. "Just you, for now. My father trusted you, and I will too. For the time being. I need to know everything about Bruce Wayne."
"That... horny sot?" laughed Scarecrow. "What would you--"
Talia stepped forward quickly, running her silky fingers down along the side of his face; he wanted to both cringe away and lean into her. "No, not those question, Jonathan. Not yet, at least." He noticed a smaller figure clinging to her, its tiny arms about her waist, its large eyes regarding him suspiciously. "We need a place to stay, somewhere to lay low, inconspicuous. Until we want to be seen."
"You could get a penthouse Downtown...."
"And yet I am here," she pointed out, her voice steely. "That time will come. As I've said: for now."