DS Louise Gardiner (AU) [Ashes To Ashes (BBC)] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
doomed_copper) wrote2017-05-08 10:00 pm
doomed_copper) wrote2017-05-08 10:00 pm
Entry tags:
Drabble.
The scotch burned a path down his throat as he winced, but only slightly. Turning and seeing the empty space beside him, Gordon's lips twitched in discomfort, blue eyes narrowing in thinly veiled pain.
Louise and Jim stood back to back, opposite arms extended, their semi-automatics at the tips of their fingers, stubborn sneers at the ready. Henry Smythson stood in the shadows, smirking to himself: the tense nerves of the two seasoned coppers at their apex--he'd been the cause of it, and the mere thought put sheer, twisted joy into his heart as he watched them circle each other, senses heightened.
Jim's chest heaved slightly, his head abruptly jerking away as he downed the rest of the tumbler in one swift go. It wasn't FAIR. HE should be the one in A&E, not her.
"Ohhh, the pair of you are simply charming together," Smythson cajoled, stepping out of the shadows, revealing himself. Clasping his hands together, the drug kingpin grinned gleefully before turning his attentions to Louise.
"And SHE, especially. So tense...trying not to jump the gun...," he sneered. "Bet she's a handful, Gordon." Jim's lips twitched angrily as he scoffed. Both he and Gardiner remained steady, however, eyes trained on Smythson, but still intensely aware that there could be more snipers laying in wait. The terrorist ringleader slid his hands into his pockets, smirking at the two of them. "HANDS UP!" Gordon growled, lifting his gun and moving slightly forward, but Louise's hand shot out and gripped his hip as he did so, stilling him, but only by an inch. WATCH IT, she intoned silently, blue eyes blazing. Smythson was a loose cannon, that much she knew.
...But in the end, her caution was her downfall. Milliseconds after, Henry Smythson pulled a small IED out his pocket and activated it, tossing it at them both. There was no time to respond as it detonated, spewing nuts, bolts, and nails. Gordon dove out the way, but Louise took the brunt of it, coughing, gasping as she fell to the cement. It was then that Smythson made his exit, knowing that Jim would spring to his partner's aid.
Unable to stand it any longer, Jim scowled and got up, picked up his keys off the console table, and made his way to the subway station, his route bound for the hospital.
...The machine beeped slowly, Louise's pulse and respiratory rate holding steady as Gordon enveloped her hand into both of his, his eyes stinging with tears that would not fall, despite his wishes. Being so jaded, hardened and weary came at a very steep price.
"It's my fault, Louise," he stated, his voice steady, even as his hands trembled slightly. Heaving a breath, Jim blinked and looked away for a few moments before focusing his eyes back upon her. Louise's eyelids were gently closed, the colour slowly returning to her face, even as her pallor still seemed a bit ashen. Her auburn hair was gently arranged about the pillows as she slept, the narcotic analgesic more than doing its job. Her condition had improved somewhat, that much was clear; Gordon had heard as much a quarter of an hour earlier. But it was of cold solace to the detective, who endlessly blamed himself. Never mind that Louise was of tough stock, got herself stuck in right along with him (as she should, as was her job), and fought to the last shot of her own volition. It was HIS dogged determination to follow up on a dodgy lead--and that, he reasoned, was more than enough to convict him in his own imagination.
[Her eyes flickered open, and immediately began the process of assessing her surroundings: she was in a park...no--a playground....a school. Irises sweeping to the sky, Louise noted the trees with their leaves falling....autumn. And then, they lit upon her garments: a dated, knee-length plaid skirt, a starched white cotton oxford, white socks and brown brogues, a maroon blazer with a crest upon it. Arnthorpe Sixth Form College, the insignia read, and the redhead's lips fell open, slightly agape. Her old school. Licking them, and also knowing the score as she'd done this once already, Louise quickly scrambled to her feet as the bell rang, signalling the imminent start of class in 5 minutes' time....but not before something fell out her backpack--the beloved Walkman which had gotten her through many a solitary lunch period during that period of her life--and she bent to scoop it up. 'Mix 1989'...the same cassette was in the player. The copper--now a shadow of the woman she'd become--smiled briefly, sadly, before making it into the common area and into the first class of the day.]
Jim scanned Louise for any sign of life apart from the slow, steady beeps coming from the monitor above her head...a blink, a twitch--something. When his eyes began to sting from the strain of seeing nothing and willing it to be anything but, the detective huffed out a frustrated sigh before settling back in his chair and closing them to rest.
[Louise was sat at a desk in the middle of the classroom when the door opened, and the headmaster ushered a young man inside. The teacher smirked, and accepted the handoff.
"JIM..." The word fell from her lips before she could stop it. The entire class whirled round, gaping at her in idiotic horror, but the headmaster spoke up first: "Not quite, Miss Gardiner," he replied with a wink. "May I introduce to you all Ben Sherman, our American transfer from California." Immediately the girls in the class began to giggle and whisper amongst themselves, but the eyes of the new student remained set upon the girl who'd uttered the wrong name. She seemed familiar... but couldn't be. Could never be. Ben hadn't set foot upon English soil until the week prior, when his mother decided to pick up sticks and sell their spacious home in Beverly Hills. "It'll be a nice change of pace," he recalled his mother saying at the airport as they waited in the boarding area, her smile bright, and fake.
Ben took his seat to the left of Louise, his eyes shyly alighting towards her every now and then.]
The clattering of a tray off Louise's nightstand prompted Gordon's eyes to fly open, only to find his partner in the midst of a seizure. Frantically ringing the call button, doctors and nurses rushed into the room, effectively crowding Jim out whilst they worked on her. From the window outside, he could see her body still jerking violently as a nurse drew up several cc's of something and quickly administered it into her IV line, the two doctors standing over her, measuring her vitals. Gordon paced back and forth, chewing his lip stressfully, slowing down only when he watched Louise's body stilling back to a normal rate, her chest rising and falling calmly again at last. The two doctors looked at one another silently, their foreheads tensed. That was too close for comfort. Leaving the nurses to it so they could busy themselves tucking the redhead's sheets back around her and replacing the tray before checking the monitors once more to be sure her condition was holding steady, the doctors ushered Jim back inside the room and he retook his place at her side. Only when the last nurse had exited the room did he reach out to push some stray hairs out of her face, stroking her still-flushed cheek with the back of his knuckles. He'd never told her he loved her. Something within him knew that status would change if and when she'd awaken.
[Louise woke up with a start, gasping in the dark as she fumbled for the clock. 3:06 AM.
Strangling. Suffocating. CAN'T BREATHE. Her fingers flew to her throat as she managed to swallow, albeit hard, and her heart rate began to slow its clip. "Fuck's SAKE," she whispered hoarsely to herself. Whatever it was, it had been one hell of a nightmare. Spotting her bookbag in the corner of the room, she knew she had to get a hold of herself if she was going to make it out of there and back to Jim.
*****
Breezing past her mum to pick up the bagged lunch she'd packed for her, Louise set off to school. She'd gotten as far as the common area outside the main building when she was accosted by Ben. "Hi--" he stammered out quickly. "I don't...suppose you know where the P.E. building is? I'm supposed to go there for swim practice during first hour, I guess my mom got me into the class," he shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. Louise nodded. "Sure--it's down at the end of the far hallway, next to the infirmary." "Thanks." Ben lingered a few seconds longer than was necessary, and Louise just stared at him as if to say, Was there something else? "Um...why'd you call me 'Jim' the other day? It's nothing, I was just curious." And now it was Louise's turn to stammer. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she brightened up a bit. "Erm, you just reminded me of someone I used to know. I suppose all you blond American boys look alike to me," she attempted to joke. "His name was Jim, then? Was he...like, umm...your boyfriend or something?" Good Lord, this was getting grimmer by the second. "Jim? Oh--I mean, not really. He was just an exchange student here last year. He was a good friend, I suppose?" She shrugged, and Ben grimaced a little. "Just a good friend. Ah. Well--" he coughed into the sleeve of his blazer. "Better get going, don't want to be late." He managed a lopsided grin which made Louise's stomach flip--it was too similar to the one Gordon would flash her when he'd find something she'd say that was too amusing. Still, she recovered and gave him a jaunty wave. "Right then, best be on your way, see you in maths later," she replied, not very convincingly.]
Jim woke to his mobile phone vibrating: it was Harvey. Apparently, Edward Nygma ('The Riddler'--not that Gordon would deign to recognise that ridiculous moniker) had assumed responsibility for radicalising Smythson, via a complicated and very convoluted ransom-like letter he'd sent to the GCPD. Indeed, Ed was far too wrapped up in his narcissistic masculinity to not clue the entire department in on his latest deed. In his quest to destroy James Gordon, he'd wanted to hit out at the one thing he knew Gordon couldn't live without: LOUISE. And, thus far, it had worked. Smythson got paid and Nygma had one more lackey to add to his ever-growing collection of elegant thugs.
Alvarez had handed the letter to Lucius Fox, and within minutes, the strike force had mobilised to canvass the area for both men. However, Jim wasn't about to leave. He'd done that before with Mayor James to his detriment. So, after ordering more reinforcement to the hospital, effectively locking it down, Jim rose from his seat and walked calmly over to the door, locking it before going to the window to keep watch.
Meanwhile, Louise's pallor had brightened somewhat, and the redhead was resting comfortably, the machines beeping quietly in the background.
[Alone, Louise was sat back in the commons area, nibbling on the sandwich and crisps her mum had packed earlier, her Walkman playing over the headphones as it always did back then. As the bars of 'Two Divided By Zero' wafted through the tiny speakers, she found herself mouthing the lyrics, suddenly realising how the very scene it was setting was one she'd dreamt of countless times, but could never let on to Jim. It wasn't practical to leave with Jim; it wasn't even something she felt she could really do, bound to duty as she was, but it was lovely to think of all the same.
We'll catch a plane to New York, and a cab going down
Cross the bridges and tunnels, straight into town
Tomorrow morning we'll be miles away
On another continent and another day
(Divided by, divided by) Let's not go home
(Divided by, divided by) Or call it a day
(Divided by, divided by) You won't be alone
(Divided by, divided by) Let's run away
Suddenly, her reverie was disrupted by one Ben Sherman.
"Hi," he said, friendly, yet awkwardly shy, his eyes sort of flitting about like he's not sure whether he made the correct decision to open his mouth. Louise, for her part, startled and ripped the headphones off her head. Instantly, Ben definitely regretted sitting down beside her. "Sorry--I--didn't mean to scare you--", he said, immediately standing up. "NO! No--," she stammered, her face brightening. "I was miles away," she added, lost in her own thoughts. "Please--please sit down," she added, further still.
Ben tentatively quirked the corner of his lips into a hint of a smile as he slowly sat back down. "So," he began again, "what are you listening to?" The redhead demurred, laughing to herself. "Pet Shop Boys," she answered, wrinkling her nose a bit. "I'm fairly certain they're not one of your favourites," she continued, wincing. Ben shrugged. "I'm not really familiar with them, I just know 'West End Girls'. It wasn't too bad? I liked the melody." At this, Louise smiled gently. "Then, you might want to listen to the entirety of the album," she replied gamely. "There's a few more gems on there you might discover," she continued, "like this one--" And, fitting the headphones atop Ben's head, Louise lowered the volume a bit and hit the rewind button. Pressing 'play', his ears began to fill with computer speak interspersed with electronic drums which then lent themselves to unrelenting synths-switching fluidly from major to minor and back again in a perfect rapport. "Wow," he replied, cracking a crooked grin as he took off the headphones and handed them back to Louise, "that actually sounds really cool. Most of the girls I know are into New Kids On The Block." Not replying, yet inwardly cringing at the thought of the boy band, she merely smiled ambiguously, popping a salt-and-vinegar crisp into her mouth.]
As Jim stood guard at the hospital room window waiting for the cavalry to arrive, Edward Nygma strolled casually into a side door of the hospital, effectively beating the precinct there by five-and-a-half minutes (he'd calculated as much). Striding down the hallway with purpose until he reached the boiler room down below, The Riddler removed his his black bowler hat with the green satin trim and placed it atop a coat rack, giving them no doubt as to his calling card, and with a flourish, he set about dismantling the large vent covers, very much unbeknownst to Jim Gordon.
His lanky frame easily slipping through the metal ducts, Nygma reattached the covers and began his slow ascent to the fourth floor.
[He'd asked her out before they'd even finished their lunches; something about the young, yet coltish redhead intrigued him. Of course, being English, Louise already was different than the girls back home, but he reckoned it was her independent streak, confident enough to do things alone rather than with the crowd and not be bothered by it. Her smarts helped, as well as the interesting fact that she always seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, another narrative playing inside her mind instead of what was real. And, well--he had to be honest with himself, he'd spent entire class periods staring at her bow-like lips and light auburn hair which reached the middle of her back more often than he'd ever want to let on.
So when Ben arrived at Louise's doorstep that Friday night, he coughed slightly as she opened the door, wearing a blush pink angora sweater, tightrolled blue jeans, and black ankle boots. Drawing in a breath, the blond remarked: "You look AMAZING." And meant even his accidental emphasis on the word.
For her part, Louise found it oddly amusing that her sixth-form self was headed out to a casual dinner with a boy who could have been the doppelgänger of her partner's younger self, and one who held nearly the exact same boyish charm that Jim exerted early on in their relationship. "You don't look half-bad yourself, Sherman," she riposted back with a sly grin as she got into the passenger side of the vehicle, smiling gamely at him as he held the door open for her. Journeying on into the night, the pair awaited what was in store with a nervous energy.]
So, too, was James Gordon as he began to see the flashing lights of the GCPD cresting over the hill, and he was pleased to see that Harvey had sent nearly every car they had.
At the same time, Ed Nygma was poised over the vent cover which hung overhead Louise's hospital bed, slowly removing a single syringe from his jacket pocket, his eyes almost literally burning a path through her forehead as he watched her sleep. Briefly licking his lips, he began the tedious work of undoing the tiny screws with the utmost silence he could manage whilst still being effective. When the last one was removed, he quietly slid the cover aside and peered down into the room, pleased to see that Gordon was still in position, his back to the door. Lowering his lithe figure through the vent opening, Nygma's heart began to pick up its clip as the redhead was finally within reach. Quiet as the grave, he whipped out one of his handkerchiefs, this one soaked in chloroform, and ambushed Gordon from behind. The Captain hadn't but a second to react, his eyes rapidly widening in shock and then falling shut just as rapidly, his body sinking to the floor.
[Ben and Louise had just finished with dinner at their local branch of Pizza Express, a favourite amongst the kids, their first official 'outing' eliciting a smattering of whispers from the few students also there. Normally, such a display would embarrass Ben, shy as he was, but he didn't care--he was well on his way to falling hard for his classmate. They'd gotten no more than 12 steps from the front door of the restaurant before he quickened his pace, coming round to face her, effectively cutting her off mid-step--]
Turning to face the redhead, The Riddler smiled broadly, walking over to her bedside, the syringe of toxin poised to sink into the rubber covering the hole of the IV port in her hand. Positioning himself so that he was looming over her, Nygma chuckled sardonically. "Finally we meet," he purred in a low whisper. Brushing his knuckles ever so softly across her cheek, he sighed. "I'd have you all to myself...well. If I didn't have to kill you, that is," he continued, the juxaposition making him laugh a bit louder. "And, well. Let's be real, shall we, Louise? A 'friend' of James Gordon's is hardly a friend of mine. SO? On with the show!" he exclaimed in a flamboyant growl.
[--"WHA--?" Louise trembled silently with excitement at the blond's suddenly close proximity. And then, almost just as quickly, Ben reached out, cupping her face, and began to draw her in--]
Somewhere, deep in this reverie (or was it?) Louise was beginning to feel panicked, awakening some place between the two worlds, her body beginning to twitch, her nerve synapses beginning to fire. And then, she could SMELL IT. A strange cologne, not Jim's, and the scent was growing closer.
[--and finally his lips were upon hers, the heat between them growing as Louise imagined it was Jim--]
Her eyes flew open, only to react in visceral shock at seeing The Riddler's visage before her own. Struggling to move, she managed to knock her IV drip over, effectively ruining Nygma's chances of introducing the toxin that way. Frantically looking for Jim, Louise saw him lying prone on the floor, no signs of consciousness.
The clatter of the metal infusion pole to the ground alerted Harvey, who was just behind the door on the other side...but Jim had locked the door from the inside, thinking he was protecting them both from an outside threat. In his haste, he hadn't thought of the ventilation system, much to both their detriment. As Bullock scrambled to get the key to the room, GCPD officers began attempting to break the glass in the door--but it was impervious to their efforts.
Meanwhile, Louise had managed to wrestle Nygma to the floor, the port ripping out of the top of her hand painfully, blood beginning to drench his formerly bright green suit jacket as he raised his arm to jab the syringe into her still-pale neck. The redhead's lips contorted to form a scream--but what came out was weaker, and hoarse.
Louise and Jim stood back to back, opposite arms extended, their semi-automatics at the tips of their fingers, stubborn sneers at the ready. Henry Smythson stood in the shadows, smirking to himself: the tense nerves of the two seasoned coppers at their apex--he'd been the cause of it, and the mere thought put sheer, twisted joy into his heart as he watched them circle each other, senses heightened.
Jim's chest heaved slightly, his head abruptly jerking away as he downed the rest of the tumbler in one swift go. It wasn't FAIR. HE should be the one in A&E, not her.
"Ohhh, the pair of you are simply charming together," Smythson cajoled, stepping out of the shadows, revealing himself. Clasping his hands together, the drug kingpin grinned gleefully before turning his attentions to Louise.
"And SHE, especially. So tense...trying not to jump the gun...," he sneered. "Bet she's a handful, Gordon." Jim's lips twitched angrily as he scoffed. Both he and Gardiner remained steady, however, eyes trained on Smythson, but still intensely aware that there could be more snipers laying in wait. The terrorist ringleader slid his hands into his pockets, smirking at the two of them. "HANDS UP!" Gordon growled, lifting his gun and moving slightly forward, but Louise's hand shot out and gripped his hip as he did so, stilling him, but only by an inch. WATCH IT, she intoned silently, blue eyes blazing. Smythson was a loose cannon, that much she knew.
...But in the end, her caution was her downfall. Milliseconds after, Henry Smythson pulled a small IED out his pocket and activated it, tossing it at them both. There was no time to respond as it detonated, spewing nuts, bolts, and nails. Gordon dove out the way, but Louise took the brunt of it, coughing, gasping as she fell to the cement. It was then that Smythson made his exit, knowing that Jim would spring to his partner's aid.
Unable to stand it any longer, Jim scowled and got up, picked up his keys off the console table, and made his way to the subway station, his route bound for the hospital.
...The machine beeped slowly, Louise's pulse and respiratory rate holding steady as Gordon enveloped her hand into both of his, his eyes stinging with tears that would not fall, despite his wishes. Being so jaded, hardened and weary came at a very steep price.
"It's my fault, Louise," he stated, his voice steady, even as his hands trembled slightly. Heaving a breath, Jim blinked and looked away for a few moments before focusing his eyes back upon her. Louise's eyelids were gently closed, the colour slowly returning to her face, even as her pallor still seemed a bit ashen. Her auburn hair was gently arranged about the pillows as she slept, the narcotic analgesic more than doing its job. Her condition had improved somewhat, that much was clear; Gordon had heard as much a quarter of an hour earlier. But it was of cold solace to the detective, who endlessly blamed himself. Never mind that Louise was of tough stock, got herself stuck in right along with him (as she should, as was her job), and fought to the last shot of her own volition. It was HIS dogged determination to follow up on a dodgy lead--and that, he reasoned, was more than enough to convict him in his own imagination.
[Her eyes flickered open, and immediately began the process of assessing her surroundings: she was in a park...no--a playground....a school. Irises sweeping to the sky, Louise noted the trees with their leaves falling....autumn. And then, they lit upon her garments: a dated, knee-length plaid skirt, a starched white cotton oxford, white socks and brown brogues, a maroon blazer with a crest upon it. Arnthorpe Sixth Form College, the insignia read, and the redhead's lips fell open, slightly agape. Her old school. Licking them, and also knowing the score as she'd done this once already, Louise quickly scrambled to her feet as the bell rang, signalling the imminent start of class in 5 minutes' time....but not before something fell out her backpack--the beloved Walkman which had gotten her through many a solitary lunch period during that period of her life--and she bent to scoop it up. 'Mix 1989'...the same cassette was in the player. The copper--now a shadow of the woman she'd become--smiled briefly, sadly, before making it into the common area and into the first class of the day.]
Jim scanned Louise for any sign of life apart from the slow, steady beeps coming from the monitor above her head...a blink, a twitch--something. When his eyes began to sting from the strain of seeing nothing and willing it to be anything but, the detective huffed out a frustrated sigh before settling back in his chair and closing them to rest.
[Louise was sat at a desk in the middle of the classroom when the door opened, and the headmaster ushered a young man inside. The teacher smirked, and accepted the handoff.
"JIM..." The word fell from her lips before she could stop it. The entire class whirled round, gaping at her in idiotic horror, but the headmaster spoke up first: "Not quite, Miss Gardiner," he replied with a wink. "May I introduce to you all Ben Sherman, our American transfer from California." Immediately the girls in the class began to giggle and whisper amongst themselves, but the eyes of the new student remained set upon the girl who'd uttered the wrong name. She seemed familiar... but couldn't be. Could never be. Ben hadn't set foot upon English soil until the week prior, when his mother decided to pick up sticks and sell their spacious home in Beverly Hills. "It'll be a nice change of pace," he recalled his mother saying at the airport as they waited in the boarding area, her smile bright, and fake.
Ben took his seat to the left of Louise, his eyes shyly alighting towards her every now and then.]
The clattering of a tray off Louise's nightstand prompted Gordon's eyes to fly open, only to find his partner in the midst of a seizure. Frantically ringing the call button, doctors and nurses rushed into the room, effectively crowding Jim out whilst they worked on her. From the window outside, he could see her body still jerking violently as a nurse drew up several cc's of something and quickly administered it into her IV line, the two doctors standing over her, measuring her vitals. Gordon paced back and forth, chewing his lip stressfully, slowing down only when he watched Louise's body stilling back to a normal rate, her chest rising and falling calmly again at last. The two doctors looked at one another silently, their foreheads tensed. That was too close for comfort. Leaving the nurses to it so they could busy themselves tucking the redhead's sheets back around her and replacing the tray before checking the monitors once more to be sure her condition was holding steady, the doctors ushered Jim back inside the room and he retook his place at her side. Only when the last nurse had exited the room did he reach out to push some stray hairs out of her face, stroking her still-flushed cheek with the back of his knuckles. He'd never told her he loved her. Something within him knew that status would change if and when she'd awaken.
[Louise woke up with a start, gasping in the dark as she fumbled for the clock. 3:06 AM.
Strangling. Suffocating. CAN'T BREATHE. Her fingers flew to her throat as she managed to swallow, albeit hard, and her heart rate began to slow its clip. "Fuck's SAKE," she whispered hoarsely to herself. Whatever it was, it had been one hell of a nightmare. Spotting her bookbag in the corner of the room, she knew she had to get a hold of herself if she was going to make it out of there and back to Jim.
*****
Breezing past her mum to pick up the bagged lunch she'd packed for her, Louise set off to school. She'd gotten as far as the common area outside the main building when she was accosted by Ben. "Hi--" he stammered out quickly. "I don't...suppose you know where the P.E. building is? I'm supposed to go there for swim practice during first hour, I guess my mom got me into the class," he shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. Louise nodded. "Sure--it's down at the end of the far hallway, next to the infirmary." "Thanks." Ben lingered a few seconds longer than was necessary, and Louise just stared at him as if to say, Was there something else? "Um...why'd you call me 'Jim' the other day? It's nothing, I was just curious." And now it was Louise's turn to stammer. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she brightened up a bit. "Erm, you just reminded me of someone I used to know. I suppose all you blond American boys look alike to me," she attempted to joke. "His name was Jim, then? Was he...like, umm...your boyfriend or something?" Good Lord, this was getting grimmer by the second. "Jim? Oh--I mean, not really. He was just an exchange student here last year. He was a good friend, I suppose?" She shrugged, and Ben grimaced a little. "Just a good friend. Ah. Well--" he coughed into the sleeve of his blazer. "Better get going, don't want to be late." He managed a lopsided grin which made Louise's stomach flip--it was too similar to the one Gordon would flash her when he'd find something she'd say that was too amusing. Still, she recovered and gave him a jaunty wave. "Right then, best be on your way, see you in maths later," she replied, not very convincingly.]
Jim woke to his mobile phone vibrating: it was Harvey. Apparently, Edward Nygma ('The Riddler'--not that Gordon would deign to recognise that ridiculous moniker) had assumed responsibility for radicalising Smythson, via a complicated and very convoluted ransom-like letter he'd sent to the GCPD. Indeed, Ed was far too wrapped up in his narcissistic masculinity to not clue the entire department in on his latest deed. In his quest to destroy James Gordon, he'd wanted to hit out at the one thing he knew Gordon couldn't live without: LOUISE. And, thus far, it had worked. Smythson got paid and Nygma had one more lackey to add to his ever-growing collection of elegant thugs.
Alvarez had handed the letter to Lucius Fox, and within minutes, the strike force had mobilised to canvass the area for both men. However, Jim wasn't about to leave. He'd done that before with Mayor James to his detriment. So, after ordering more reinforcement to the hospital, effectively locking it down, Jim rose from his seat and walked calmly over to the door, locking it before going to the window to keep watch.
Meanwhile, Louise's pallor had brightened somewhat, and the redhead was resting comfortably, the machines beeping quietly in the background.
[Alone, Louise was sat back in the commons area, nibbling on the sandwich and crisps her mum had packed earlier, her Walkman playing over the headphones as it always did back then. As the bars of 'Two Divided By Zero' wafted through the tiny speakers, she found herself mouthing the lyrics, suddenly realising how the very scene it was setting was one she'd dreamt of countless times, but could never let on to Jim. It wasn't practical to leave with Jim; it wasn't even something she felt she could really do, bound to duty as she was, but it was lovely to think of all the same.
We'll catch a plane to New York, and a cab going down
Cross the bridges and tunnels, straight into town
Tomorrow morning we'll be miles away
On another continent and another day
(Divided by, divided by) Let's not go home
(Divided by, divided by) Or call it a day
(Divided by, divided by) You won't be alone
(Divided by, divided by) Let's run away
Suddenly, her reverie was disrupted by one Ben Sherman.
"Hi," he said, friendly, yet awkwardly shy, his eyes sort of flitting about like he's not sure whether he made the correct decision to open his mouth. Louise, for her part, startled and ripped the headphones off her head. Instantly, Ben definitely regretted sitting down beside her. "Sorry--I--didn't mean to scare you--", he said, immediately standing up. "NO! No--," she stammered, her face brightening. "I was miles away," she added, lost in her own thoughts. "Please--please sit down," she added, further still.
Ben tentatively quirked the corner of his lips into a hint of a smile as he slowly sat back down. "So," he began again, "what are you listening to?" The redhead demurred, laughing to herself. "Pet Shop Boys," she answered, wrinkling her nose a bit. "I'm fairly certain they're not one of your favourites," she continued, wincing. Ben shrugged. "I'm not really familiar with them, I just know 'West End Girls'. It wasn't too bad? I liked the melody." At this, Louise smiled gently. "Then, you might want to listen to the entirety of the album," she replied gamely. "There's a few more gems on there you might discover," she continued, "like this one--" And, fitting the headphones atop Ben's head, Louise lowered the volume a bit and hit the rewind button. Pressing 'play', his ears began to fill with computer speak interspersed with electronic drums which then lent themselves to unrelenting synths-switching fluidly from major to minor and back again in a perfect rapport. "Wow," he replied, cracking a crooked grin as he took off the headphones and handed them back to Louise, "that actually sounds really cool. Most of the girls I know are into New Kids On The Block." Not replying, yet inwardly cringing at the thought of the boy band, she merely smiled ambiguously, popping a salt-and-vinegar crisp into her mouth.]
As Jim stood guard at the hospital room window waiting for the cavalry to arrive, Edward Nygma strolled casually into a side door of the hospital, effectively beating the precinct there by five-and-a-half minutes (he'd calculated as much). Striding down the hallway with purpose until he reached the boiler room down below, The Riddler removed his his black bowler hat with the green satin trim and placed it atop a coat rack, giving them no doubt as to his calling card, and with a flourish, he set about dismantling the large vent covers, very much unbeknownst to Jim Gordon.
His lanky frame easily slipping through the metal ducts, Nygma reattached the covers and began his slow ascent to the fourth floor.
[He'd asked her out before they'd even finished their lunches; something about the young, yet coltish redhead intrigued him. Of course, being English, Louise already was different than the girls back home, but he reckoned it was her independent streak, confident enough to do things alone rather than with the crowd and not be bothered by it. Her smarts helped, as well as the interesting fact that she always seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, another narrative playing inside her mind instead of what was real. And, well--he had to be honest with himself, he'd spent entire class periods staring at her bow-like lips and light auburn hair which reached the middle of her back more often than he'd ever want to let on.
So when Ben arrived at Louise's doorstep that Friday night, he coughed slightly as she opened the door, wearing a blush pink angora sweater, tightrolled blue jeans, and black ankle boots. Drawing in a breath, the blond remarked: "You look AMAZING." And meant even his accidental emphasis on the word.
For her part, Louise found it oddly amusing that her sixth-form self was headed out to a casual dinner with a boy who could have been the doppelgänger of her partner's younger self, and one who held nearly the exact same boyish charm that Jim exerted early on in their relationship. "You don't look half-bad yourself, Sherman," she riposted back with a sly grin as she got into the passenger side of the vehicle, smiling gamely at him as he held the door open for her. Journeying on into the night, the pair awaited what was in store with a nervous energy.]
So, too, was James Gordon as he began to see the flashing lights of the GCPD cresting over the hill, and he was pleased to see that Harvey had sent nearly every car they had.
At the same time, Ed Nygma was poised over the vent cover which hung overhead Louise's hospital bed, slowly removing a single syringe from his jacket pocket, his eyes almost literally burning a path through her forehead as he watched her sleep. Briefly licking his lips, he began the tedious work of undoing the tiny screws with the utmost silence he could manage whilst still being effective. When the last one was removed, he quietly slid the cover aside and peered down into the room, pleased to see that Gordon was still in position, his back to the door. Lowering his lithe figure through the vent opening, Nygma's heart began to pick up its clip as the redhead was finally within reach. Quiet as the grave, he whipped out one of his handkerchiefs, this one soaked in chloroform, and ambushed Gordon from behind. The Captain hadn't but a second to react, his eyes rapidly widening in shock and then falling shut just as rapidly, his body sinking to the floor.
[Ben and Louise had just finished with dinner at their local branch of Pizza Express, a favourite amongst the kids, their first official 'outing' eliciting a smattering of whispers from the few students also there. Normally, such a display would embarrass Ben, shy as he was, but he didn't care--he was well on his way to falling hard for his classmate. They'd gotten no more than 12 steps from the front door of the restaurant before he quickened his pace, coming round to face her, effectively cutting her off mid-step--]
Turning to face the redhead, The Riddler smiled broadly, walking over to her bedside, the syringe of toxin poised to sink into the rubber covering the hole of the IV port in her hand. Positioning himself so that he was looming over her, Nygma chuckled sardonically. "Finally we meet," he purred in a low whisper. Brushing his knuckles ever so softly across her cheek, he sighed. "I'd have you all to myself...well. If I didn't have to kill you, that is," he continued, the juxaposition making him laugh a bit louder. "And, well. Let's be real, shall we, Louise? A 'friend' of James Gordon's is hardly a friend of mine. SO? On with the show!" he exclaimed in a flamboyant growl.
[--"WHA--?" Louise trembled silently with excitement at the blond's suddenly close proximity. And then, almost just as quickly, Ben reached out, cupping her face, and began to draw her in--]
Somewhere, deep in this reverie (or was it?) Louise was beginning to feel panicked, awakening some place between the two worlds, her body beginning to twitch, her nerve synapses beginning to fire. And then, she could SMELL IT. A strange cologne, not Jim's, and the scent was growing closer.
[--and finally his lips were upon hers, the heat between them growing as Louise imagined it was Jim--]
Her eyes flew open, only to react in visceral shock at seeing The Riddler's visage before her own. Struggling to move, she managed to knock her IV drip over, effectively ruining Nygma's chances of introducing the toxin that way. Frantically looking for Jim, Louise saw him lying prone on the floor, no signs of consciousness.
The clatter of the metal infusion pole to the ground alerted Harvey, who was just behind the door on the other side...but Jim had locked the door from the inside, thinking he was protecting them both from an outside threat. In his haste, he hadn't thought of the ventilation system, much to both their detriment. As Bullock scrambled to get the key to the room, GCPD officers began attempting to break the glass in the door--but it was impervious to their efforts.
Meanwhile, Louise had managed to wrestle Nygma to the floor, the port ripping out of the top of her hand painfully, blood beginning to drench his formerly bright green suit jacket as he raised his arm to jab the syringe into her still-pale neck. The redhead's lips contorted to form a scream--but what came out was weaker, and hoarse.