Terra Firma

[align=center]Here lie Rachel Dawes and Harvey Dent
Beloved friends of Gotham City[/align]

"There was a break out of Arkham this morning." Bruce said sullenly as we stared, side by side, at Rachel and Harvey's gravestone. The morning was ironically bright for our weekly ritual. He looked down at the soil, kicking it with his shiny shoes.

"Officials won't release the names yet?" I asked quietly, glancing up at the clear blue sky. Not a cloud in sight. What a rarity.

"No." Bruce sighed, "But I'm betting who it was."

I nodded. Bruce looked very pensive for a moment, lost in himself.

"Why did she let her die, Cosette? How could she let him do it? Do you know?"

I knew he hadn't done it. Hadn't he?

"I don't know, Bruce. Why'd he jump off that night?"

Silence.

Love made us do amazing things. Stupid things. It was strong emotion, a strong behavior, and like anything strong, it often led us to do drastic things.

Which is probably why I didn't want to be in love. And yet, wanted to. I'd had my fair share of boyfriends. All very nice.. but boring. Each romance in my life thus far had been cliche, lifeless, without chemistry.

Some women wanted a prince. But I guess princes didn't interest me.

God, I was worse than my mother.

Bruce pointedly ignored my question, saying, "I think she just forgot about her, in the end."

I looked at him. He stood, stoically staring at the grave, dressed in a somber black trench coat. He'd been something like my friend and caretaker for four years, and in that time I had learned he still felt bitter about Rachel and Harvey's death, that he felt slightly confused about the people I called parents, his role as The Batman. Did he inspire hope? Did he inspire madness?

Perhaps they all did. The people of my generation now, the friends I kept, saw madness now as a condition of warped genius, not just pure hate. I was careful to stay neutral when they would talk of such subjects, not wanting anyone to be suspicious of my real identity. My friends had begun to not take things seriously, joked constantly about sorrow, chaos, murder, and vigilantes. Whether they'd been desensitized by the things they'd seen four years ago, or laughed to keep away the fear, I would never be entirely sure.

A twig snapped within the thicket of trees in front of us, too darkened to even make out a figure, and Bruce looked up suddenly, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Just a cat." I said quietly.

Bruce nodded, shrugging, staring at the inscription one last time before turning and walking on down the trail.

"She forgot about her," I heard Bruce mumble to himself again, "They were best friends, I could see it. And she forgot..."

His voice grew farther and farther away. I turned to follow, glancing back one time at the gravestone, stifling a gasp.

Orchids grew quickly, like a time-lapse photo, covering the gray of the stone in a shade of purple so beautiful you could hardly believe nature made it.

I bit my lip, looking back to Bruce, who kept walking and talking to himself, lost in his own brooding.

"No, she didn't forget. She didn't." I said, turning once again.

My cell phone rang as we exited the cemetery, after Bruce and I visited his parents on his way out.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Yo, C.J. You know you got a book signing at three right?"

"Of course, Jay, you don't have to remind me of those stupid things."

"I know, right?" He chuckled, "Too bad it's a beautiful day so far. Supposed to rain though."

"It's Gotham, of course it's going to rain." I turned to Bruce and he smiled a tiny smile.

Jay was my best friend, a dark-skinned young man who joked about everything and spoke his mind without hesitating. He worked at the Gotham Police Department, once a rookie to the force who was controversial because of his sexual preference and family history, but climbed up to the ladder quickly with his sense of humor and quick, fresh way of thinking. He worked closely with Gordon himself, even bragging to me about how he'd met with Batman a few times.

"Any busts happening tonight?"

I nodded to Bruce in departure and got into my bright yellow VW Beetle.

Bruce and I were close yet impersonal, if that made sense. Not a lot of words were said between us. He understood my deepest darkest secrets and I knew his. I could tell he wanted to keep detached from me, and I from him. Both of us viewed four years ago differently--with him brooding, and I forgiving, forgetting.

"Well, the Arkham bust is giving us a lot of trouble. I'm driving down there now, investigating, but Gordon insists I take the night off. Which is why me and Angel are heading to Wings tonight. You're coming."

I sighed, wondering why I was even asking, "Do you guys know who it was?"

"Girl, do you even need to ask? The whole city's buzzing about it, media's gonna have a field day. Mike Engel's already calling us like crazy... but I think it's cause he's worried for his own ass..."

I fought back a laugh. I hadn't laughed in years. I don't know why. Something just swallowed it every time it wanted to bubble up.

"I'll give the official word if you can keep quiet."

"That I can do." I smiled, starting my car as Jay took a deep breath.

"A Jack Napier and May Queen. Also known as The Joker and Poison Ivy. They had a visitor that morning, but the institution won't release the name, citing privacy rights. You heard of anything?"

"No." I said, "You're the detective. I'm just a writer. I don't deal with psychos."

"You sure do write like one."

"Jay..."

"Just sayin'."

I rolled my eyes, taking a right. I suddenly remembered how sick Ivy would get in cars, closing her eyes and getting as close to the window as possible, how she would jolt every time The Joker turned a corner sharply, rounding over a curve.

I shook my head. Had to forget. Yet, couldn't.

"C.J.? You still there? I gotta go, I'm close to Arkham right now."

"Yeah, yeah. And I've got my book signing at Starbucks."

Jay laughed, "Alright, you stay cool. See you later. Hopefully we'll get this mess sorted out."

We both knew they'd be long gone then, without a trace, without a warning. That was their style.

That's probably why the authorities weren't even taking this seriously. Four years ago they would've been rushing to the scene in a panic. But according to Jay, they'd tried everything to sedate and 'assimilate' Ivy but could not. There were only two more options: Kill her or be extra careful with her.

And if they killed her? The Joker would've exploded, probably with a thousand more furies than Ivy could ever reproduce.

She was unpredictable, he was unpredictable. They were chaos. And you can never get rid of chaos. It's a force of nature--a hurricane, a tornado, a wildfire. As much as people hate them, it's needed.

After all, some seeds can't bloom unless their shells are cracked open by wildfire.

I was one of those seeds, Jay was one of those seeds.

Gambol's bastard son, risen from the ashes, worked his way up from the bottom, made himself a credible, trustworthy name.

Jeannie Gimble was still a whisper on the tongue, a vague trace of something long since gone and, like Harvey Dent, presumed dead.

Fine by me. I didn't like all the attention I was getting as it was.

"Cosette Jean! Cosette Jean!"

I smiled politely, sitting behind a small table. I'd just finished introducing myself, advertising my upcoming book of poetry, and now the small crowd stood expectantly, waiting like apostles for their messiah.

I can't say I'm an atheist. Too much had happened that night...

"I know how to shut it off. He told me."

I blinked, turning to reality.

"Alright..." I said, "Form a line, if you please."

Comments, questions, and compliments came through in a rush and I scribbled out my curly signature in the cover.

"So polite for a young lady whose writing is so... tortured."

"This character reminds me of...."

"In 'Fool in the Thorns' why did you shift from present to past?"

"How come you publish things in green ink?"

"Cosette..."

"Cosette..."

"Cosette..."

An hour felt like a year. Everyone vanished finally and I was left at the table, hand cramped and head burning, rubbing my eyes like a woman who hadn't slept in four years.

Technically, I hadn't. I was plagued with so many nightmares, so many dreams.

I sighed warily as a dark hand threw a book with a thump in front of me. I didn't even look up as I opened the cover of the first book I'd ever published, about a family man with a split personality and had to kill every night before he went to sleep.

"Who am I making this out to?" I asked, readying my shaky hand one final time.

"Aw, I reckon it'll be to your old friends Charlie and Samuel."

My head snapped up as an outrageously tall southern man and a heavyset ebony fellow stood above me, eyes twinkling with a humor only a few could understand. They held a large bag between them. I looked around, no one to to be seen. All the employees were goofing off in the back.

"Goofy... Grumpy... where...? How?" I gaped.

"Shh." Grumpy scowled, "We've been traveling around, scoping out places that are pretty safe. Funny how nobody suspects us, I guess we're not that unique looking. We got the word and came back here to pick them up... just wanted to stop by and see how our little Mime was doing."

I smirked, "Not a mime anymore."

"We noticed that. You gave us quite a fright..."

I chuckled, never a full laugh, "What can I say? People are full of surprises."

"She's so pretty, Charlie. Like her Momma."

"She writes pretty crazy, if that's what you mean..."

"Just like boss..."

"Sh!" I snapped, "How's... Happy..."

"We ain't seen him. Disappeared."

"Probably dead."

I looked down at my shaking hands. Of all the people I'd dreamed about, he was there the most, even though I'd only shared a few words with him and reading the book aloud. I could never figure out why...

"What's in the bag?"

"Suit, clothes. Couple of ...Halloween costumes. Make up. The usual."

I nodded.

"How'd you get it back?" They knew I meant the suit.

"Little searching, little hard work," Goofy's eyes flitted over in the direction of the workers' laughter, now faraway. "You know. Life throws us curve balls, but we just climb over the fence and get the ball back. Yeah. That's.... that's that."

Inside his pocket, Grumpy's cell phone buzzed quietly. It played classical music.

"Well.." He said quietly, "They probably want us to get going..."

I signed the book quickly then, handing it back to them. They walked out of the pretentious little coffee shop then, waving and smiling happily, walking off in the direction of the cemetery.

I got up, sighing tiredly, gathering up my things and thanking the manager right as he walked out, telling me it was an honor to have me in his presence.

So they were off to have a little vacation, off to shake up other places.

Fine by me. But I didn't expect them back anytime soon. They probably didn't either.

But carnivals, they bring people out.