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There was something different about this day. Something in the air perhaps, or maybe it was the rain turning to acid as it hit the sidewalk.
Or maybe it was the fact that the door to the visiting booth was three inches thick, steel enforced, and guarded by three people, the stations rotating twice an hour to prevent any hope of bribing the guards.
The glass separating the visitor and the prisoner was itself two sheets thick, a chain link between them preventing any breakouts. The prison air felt like thick honey, gooey and sticky. Stacey's chair was wobbly, one leg too high and the other too low, and she tried to balance herself at the top before slamming back down. She had nothing better to do then twiddle her thumbs and watch the guards change positions outside of her heavily fortified booth. Who even needed this much security anyway? Arkam was where the Gotham's worst were kept and treated, not Blackgate Pentitentuary. Half the people here were just at the wrong place wrong time, the other half here for some sort of drug or money laundering; hardly deserving of a three inch thick steel enforced door.
The slam of the door on the opposite side of the booth sounded throughout the room, and suddenly Stacey was thankful for the thickness of the glass dividing them.
Salvatore Maroni was silent, with the same poise you would expect from one of the most prestigious bosses in Gotham's underworld. Stacey imagined him sitting above the Iceberg Lounge, surveying the dancers and bright lights. The only thing different was his orange jumpsuit and unkempt hair. His face was still freshly shaven, posture straight, eyes piercing through her like a falcon spotting its prey.
Reality is nothing but a dream, Stacey reminded herself.
But that just brought her back to the church; clutching her mother's hand until it was torn from her grasp.
"Tace, cara mia. You have visited me, finally."
It was hard for Stacey to meet his gaze but she did, doing everything in her power not to cower away from his strong, regal stare. Those infamous Maroni eyes which marked her as an heir. Which marked her as his daughter.
"I... I am here, aren't I?"
"Do not be smart with me, cara," he snapped, Even while sitting he seemed to tower over her. "So che non sei venuto per chattare." I know you have not come to chat.
"I want to know where my money is, Papa. I need it for my loans, to start a business-"
He snapped his fingers, and she fell silent. "You remember what I told you, the day I left?"
Nodding, she recited: "We are such stuff as dreams are made on-"
"And our little life is rounded with a sleep. Have you thought on this, Tacey?"
Stacey fell silent, her hands shaking, trying to form any semblance of a word or phrase- something to prove to her father that she was worthwhile, someone to be proud of-
"Tace."
"I am a doctor now, Papa. I went to med school at Metropolis University, and I had a residency in-"
"That does not answer my question."
She gulped, chastised. "I have. It means the performance they have just witnessed was an illusion, and life is completed with the eternal sleep of the dead."
He sat back. "Tace, you've missed the point."
"How? I'm sorry."
"Reality," he began, "is nothing but a dream."
Stacey felt as if she had been punched on the stomach, and she was left fumbling for air. "What?"
"You will take up the family business. Then you will have your money."
"But, Papa!"
He stood, menacing and final. "Do not make me repeat myself, Stacey Alicia. My informant is aware of our arrangement. They will tell you the bank information when you decide to take up the business."
"How do I even start- how would I even know where to begin?"
He raised his brow. "You're considering?"
"I need to repay these loans, Papa."
Disappointment clouded his face. "Pensavo fossi più intelligente, Stacey. Sai che queste cose hanno un prezzo. That money won't come without obligations." I thought you were smarter, Stacey. You know these things come with a price.
Stacey scoffed. "It's money, Papa, of course it comes with a price-"
"I do not offer charity. My good friend Ozzy will set you up, after that... Well, let's just say business comes easy to us. It'll come easy to you, too."
"I already have a side business, as the Gotham Angel. I take people injured by Batman-"
He held up his hand and she shut her mouth. "I don't want to hear it. My daughter will save our name. I just hope you stopped fooling around with that Bruce boy, especially after I made it clear what would happen to him if he continued to be around you."
Stacey stood in one fluid motion. "Che cosa?!" What?!
He smirked. "You think I could risk that boy influencing you?"
"You didn't."
"I did. I was king of Gotham, Tace, you don't think I'm still out of business? That I don't have people on my payroll? You have no idea how much influence I have, how many people are still under my control. I already have the throne, cara mia. I just need someone to take the mantle."
The breath left her lungs and she stumbled towards the door, unwilling to turn her back on the man who was staring at her, wolfishly, the whites of his eyes gleaming in the dark shadows cast on his face.
"Al diavolo, vaffanculo!" She yelled out behind her, the guards saving her from the lecture her father would have given her for using such language.
"Are you okay, miss?" One of the asked, supporting her arm as she panted.
"It's doctor, actually," she corrected, half aware she was doing so. She allowed the man to lead her through the hallways and to the elevator.
"Floor three, doctor. It's a little tricky because it's not one. Did you need any more help?"
Stacey looked up at him. "You're not employed by him, are you?"
He let go of her arm as the door closed, muttering out a "who?" as the elevator snapped shut and began to descend.
Stacey cowered in the corner, inspecting the metal box. The button glowed and she eyed it distastefully, doubting the words of the guard. What if the exit really was floor one, and he had lied, trapping her in the same hell her family was condemned to? Her father probably had him under his payroll, probably had him in his pocket-
The doors opened and Stacey jumped out, inspecting her surroundings. The guard was correct, the clear glass of the exit lay just in front of her. She walked over, shrinking to avoid the eye contact of the guards touring the facility.
"Tace?"
Stacey jumped back at the name, the rain beginning to soak her. "Pap-" She turned around and fell silent at Bruce's gangly frame leaning against a lamppost, holding an umbrella over his head. He looked... well, he looked normal. Raincoat that probably cost a fortune slung over a ratty t-shirt Stacey could've sworn she'd seen before, his hair hanging in his face in wet tendrils, as if he had ran to meet her.
"What are you doing here, Bruce? I told you I don't need an escort."
He lurched towards her, his uneven pace so unlike the fluid grace of the Batman that Stacey wanted to snort.
"I wanted to meet you. Make sure you were okay."
She pushed at his chest, the umbrella leaving her. "My father told you to not be friends with me anymore? That's why you left? For some testa de cazzo?"
He stood back in shock. "Tacey, I-"
"Yeah? You broke my heart because my father told you to?"
The rain beat down on her hard, soaking her to the bone. Though the inside of Blackgate was busy the outside was completely empty, giving them a false sense of privacy.
"Broke your heart? Stacey, that's not how it happened. Your father sent one of his enforcers to threaten me to not be friends with you anymore, and I tried. I tried to stay away from you. But I couldn't. When you left I searched, and when I couldn't find you I turned to the Batman and hoped that one day you would return. I waited for you, Tace." His voice was a mere whisper, croaking alive the more he talked. It was like he had practiced those words, leaned their syllables by heart and recited them in the mirror.
"Reality is nothing but a dream," she replied, stepping closer. "Are you on his payroll?"
Bruce sighed. "I am not. But I can help you find out who is."
They paused for a long moment, both under the umbrella, looking at each other. Weighing their options.
It took a moment for Stacey to answer. "God, I'm tired. I'm tired of being so paranoid, so angry. I loved you once, Bruce. I really did. And, I don't know what's gonna happen now, but I'd like to be friends with you again. At least try."
He watched her as she placed a hand on his chest, snaking it around under his raincoat, encircling his waist, pulling him close into a hug.
Bruce forgot how to breath for a moment, but in the next he buried his face in her neck and hugged her with his spare hand.
"That's all I want. For us to try."
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A/N
Hey! Please comment and let me know if you're enjoying this! Seriously, comments are the only thing fueling me to keep going with this book 😭 and, y'know, wanting to see what'll happen to Tace.
Will she love again? Or will she let her father's business take over her life? We'll see... ;)