ANGELS WEEP || bruce wayne

the thirteenth

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It was right there, snack dab on the front page of the Gotham Gazette.

Prince and Princess of Gotham Reunite! see details page one

Upon reading the accursed title, the newspaper was subsequently slapped upside down, hidden under a coffee mug, and kept out of sight, but the damage had already been done.

The two nurses at the private hospital looked at Stacey apprehensively, as if she was bound to snap at any moment. Those stares had once been respectful, impressed by the young graduate of Metropolis University, but they had now soured to malice. Stacey's skin rose into goosebumps at the prospect of their oncoming rumors.

The overhanging threat of malice didn't stop there. Her father had mentioned an "Ozzy", and upon a quick recollection of Gotham's underworld, Stacey had remembered Oswald Cobblepot, current lackey of Carmine Falcone. There was no question of why he would rather go by the Penguin; that name sounded like it came straight out of a cheesy Hollywood flick about a charming teapot.

And Stacey had scheduled a meeting with the aforementioned teapot for that night to talk about the family business. Ozzy had, most likely, once been employed by her father, and the appeal of the Maroni money coming back into circulation was too strong to exist. His information would be costly, and Stacey was hesitant to let herself play right into the hands of her father, but she herself was feeling the pull of the things she could do with so much money. The debts she would be free of, the people she could save.

The whisper of her name- "...Maroni..." -said in passing reached her ears, and she looked up from her desk.

Stacey saw the nurses still standing at the end of a hallway, and she called out a "It's Doctor Maroni!" behind her for good measure. They looked at her for a split second before turning and continuing their whispered conversation.

"Ugh, I'm so sick of this job." She craved the night, where she could make a real difference in Gotham. At least, for a few people. She had been lucky so far- but Batman still showed up at her doorstep in the early hours of the morning to make sure that everyone had left her apartment.

Luckily, she wouldn't have to work days much longer. Soon, she would be an infamous crime boss at the foot of Gotham, forced to move forward or get stepped on.

Even the thought of that left a bad taste in her mouth. But she was in debt, sleep deprived, starving slowly. But no one but her needed to know that.

She picked up the file for her next patient and winced at the growling in her stomach, the anxiety giving her butterflies and leaving her extremely uncomfortable. God, she missed Bruce.

He'll be there in the morning, she placated herself, he's probably in Wayne Manor. He's not gone anymore.

Stacey bookmarked a song for him to listen to later and headed out to her final appointment of the day. Hospital workers stared at her as she passed, but the little boy and his mother didn't seem to recognize her.

"Do you think he's going to be okay?" The mother asked near the end of the appointment. She had brought her son in for a paper cut.

"As I said, Miss, he's going to be fine. Just apply some antiseptic and replace the bandage every three to five hours or so."

"You don't need to prescribe any antibiotics, do you?" She took out a notepad from her purse, writing down something for later.

"No ma'am."

She looked disappointed. "Oh, well. C'mon Fredrick, we have to get you to golfing practice."

Stacey smiled stiffly as they left, knowing that she'd probably see the mother later in the Iceberg Lounge attempting to get drops. Rich people. Her handbag alone probably would've paid for four months of Stacey's rent.

Stacey Maroni sat in the empty room for a minute, rubbing her eyes with her fingers.

One of the nurses walked in and proclaimed an "oof!" at seeing Stacey still inside, jumping back to hide behind the door. Stacey stood and gathered her papers, smiling stiffly at the nurse as she blabbered out apologies.

"It's fine, Anna, I was just sitting in there."

The nurse bobbled her head. "Sorry about that, Doctor, didn't see you in there."

Stacey slid past but the nurse spoke up, halting her brisk walk.

"Good luck with Bruce Wayne. He's been holed up in that tower for so long he probably forgot what real people look like."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Stacey snapped, annoyed at the nurse's tittering.

"I'm just saying, I hope he hadn't just latched on to the first woman he saw after leaving that tower."

Stacey's stomach dropped but she ignored Anna, though her giggles sounded as Stacey left the building, down past the parking lot to the inside of the taxi where she was driven to her apartment.

Even as she unlocked her front door, the giggling permeated her mind.

Stacey huffed, tossing her keys and her bag onto the counter and trudging up the stairs, throwing herself onto her bed.

Her watch beeped and she let out a long groan, shielding her eyes from the red light pouring in from the window.

6:30pm said her wristwatch. "Yeah, I got it, I'll get up," Stacey answered.

The relief of removing her white doctor's coat and scrubs was brief but relaxing, and she contemplated her choice of wardrobe. Should she go all out and impress the people in the club, or should she just dress like she has old money? Upon reviewing her options she decided the latter, preferring to look in control but not too flashy. Something that would command the respect of the room (if need be).

She cracked her window open and stuck her hand outside, feeling the crisp autumn breeze whisk through the air. A sweater would be a safe option.

Stacey picked something her mother would wear: a black peacoat over an off-white turtleneck, and something of her own taste: blood red pants to match the sunset.

She gave herself a once-over in the mirror. Needs some red lipstick.

Stacey squared her shoulders and gave the mirror her fiercest look, but it didn't last long. She burst into giggles at seeing herself in such formal attire. It felt like she was wearing a costume, like she was parading as someone she wasn't.

For the night she would be playing the character of Stacey Alicia Maroni, heiress to the Maroni family empire. An empire built on mistrust and drugs and crime. Her empire.

A wave of anxiety crashed over her and she sat down on the carpetted floor, trying to catch her breath. The excitement was palpable, the reality that all of her dreams were so close- yet so far- crashing down on her, and she was left spiraling.

Was she really about to do this? Was she really about to become the very person she didn't want to be?

It's only for a moment, she placated herself, it's only for you to pay off your student debts. Only for you to help more people.

She hoped it wouldn't be too busy tonight after her visit. But Batman never takes a day off, so neither does she. And besides, Lorenzo could hold down the fort until she gets back. If she comes back.

Stacey's gaze snapped back up to the mirror and she leaned in, pointing to her reflection.

Don't fuck this up. Gotham is depending on you.

Her reflection didn't have a response.

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