Paralyzer [Gotham]

19

With Falcone's help, I was able to set up treatment for Andrew in my own home. I didn't ask how he got the life support systems, the tools, or the medicine, I was simply grateful they were supplied. It helped to keep an eye on his vitals with the monitors, no more praying that the weak pulse and shallow breaths wouldn't stop at some point during the night.

His body was starting to heal around the bullet, so with the proper tools and care, I was able to remove it safely. With my recent shift in career paths, I had to study up on a lot. I was cleaning up the mess I'd made when my phone rang, carefully holding the phone to my ear as I wiped Andrew's chest clean before laying a bandage over it. I hadn't bothered checking the caller ID. "Hello?"

"I'm looking for Lucian Cane," a voice softly grumbled, the subtle melancholy in his voice snaring my attention.

"This is her," I informed, quickly pulling off my gloves and grabbing hold of the phone. "May I ask who's calling?"

"This is Jim Gordon, I'm a detective at the GCPD." He paused a moment and I could feel my stomach churn unpleasantly. "I'm calling because your sister, Martha Wayne, and her husband were killed tonight."

"Oh my god," I breathed, my eyes raking over Andrew's still form as my brain snapped to reality. "Bruce--"

"Your nephew is safe. Traumatized, but otherwise unharmed," he informed. "Aflred Pennyworth is with him now." I nodded and recalled Thomas' butler, who frankly seemed far more like an adoptive family member.

"Thank you, Detective," I mumbled, hanging up and sitting back in my chair with a heavy sigh. The heaviness of my chest had lessened over this past week, getting myself regulated to a new routine, but it had returned in full force, almost twice as strong as before.

[]

I stood beside Bruce at his parent's funeral, tears streaming down my otherwise impassive face. The cops claimed to have caught their killer, but working under Don Falcone, I heard whispers that told me otherwise. I wouldn't do anything about it, there was nothing I could do, other than support my grieving nephew.

When it was time to go, I put a hand on the side of his head, calling his attention back to the audience. As Alfred had stood a step or two behind us, I couldn't see the beckoning guesture he gave Bruce, I could only follow slightly behind his steps. "How is he?" I asked Alfred in a soft whisper.

"He's distraught, Miss," he informed softly. I nodded and watched as he talked to a man the papers had informed me was Jim Gordon, following the long crowd away from the graves of the Waynes. "I understand Martha was your sister. How are you taking it all?" I took a deep breath and nodded, failing to keep the faucet in my eyes shut off.

"I have a brother in a coma," I answered with a shaken breath. "I thought I knew what it felt like to lose one of them, but this is different." When Alfred ran a hand over my back, I gave him a polite smile and came to a stop. "Thank you for looking after Bruce. I can tell they entrusted you with him." Alfred returned the smile and I turned my sights to Bruce, walking to his car and squatting down to his level. "You're a strong boy, Bruce. You got it from your mother."

I reached up and wiped a tear from his face, offering him a small smile. "Thank you, Aunt Lucian." I nodded and smoothed my hand over his hair, standing again before removing my hand.

"If you ever need anything, I'm here." He nodded stiffly, his pain clear on the surface. I wiped the tears on my own face and gave him a weak smile. "Keep your head up."

[]

I looked up when the door opened, lightly surprised to see my boss in here. "Hello, Don Falcone. How are you today?" I greeted with a soft smile.

"Fine, thank you," he nodded, coming to sit before me. "I normally take these kind of check-ins at Gotham General, but it seems a little more fitting to use my in-house doctor for that. Keep everything within the circle of trust." I paused a moment, finding it odd I'd gained his trust after a month working with him.

"What seems to be the problem?" I asked with a deep breath, turning to him as he rolled up his left sleeve.

"I've been in this line of business for thirty years, my dear. That kind of dedication comes from your heart," he informed.

"And now it's taking from it," I nodded a bit humorously. I wrapped a blood pressure strap around his arm and pumped it full of air, waiting for a reading a moment.

"To put it kindly, yes," the don chuckled. "I've had a couple scares and my daughter insists I keep up on my health."

"You have a smart daughter," I agreed, writing down my findings and letting it deflate as I listened to his heart through the stethescope. It's rhythm was a bit jumpy, but otherwise healthy, definately something to keep an eye on. "Very smart, indeed. For the moment, you're as clean as a whistle, but I suggest you find something that relaxes you and dedicate yourself to it. It'll be helpful in the long run."

"I like birds," he shrugged, a smile tugging on my lips.

"A pet should do just fine. Just avoid cockatiels," I warned. "Cheeky featherbrains never shut up." I removed the strap from his arm and gave him a nod. "Check in regularly, if you'd like. I'm sure I can handle heart attack prevention just fine."

"I'm sure you can," he commended, buttoning his sleeve at his wrist. "Thank you, Lucian." I remained still when the don kissed my head, watching Falcone leave with a light smile before turning back to my books. For running Gotham's underworld, he really wasn't all that bad.