Terra Firma

Cosette

I walked along, the scent of cotton candy and freshly salted popcorn making my mouth water. I laughed as some children ran past me along the grass, each holding bright balloons and rushing into a tent. I squinted at the sunlight hitting my face, tucking some hair behind my ear as I followed them into the coolness of a shaded carnival tent.

I passed many booths, including one advertising a half-man and a giant bat. I blinked confusedly at a mime I passed who reminded me of someone, then hurried to the very center of the tent, where the children all stopped in front of a lovely, seemingly young couple. They were seated in simple chairs surrounding a small table and in the very center lay a strange map, with all sorts of pins sticking out in various places.

The children sat before them.

"Okay... so. A duck walks into a bar..."

I rushed before he could finish the punchline, joining in on the the chuckles that erupted afterward, even though to anyone else he would've been booed off his platform. I was disappointed. The guy telling the joke looked too clean and unscarred to be who I presumed it was.

The redhead at his side was humming while braiding a young girl's hair. It was then I noticed the bullet hole in her chest. I stared at the other children now, each having their own horrid wounds--fresh burns, blackened eyes. Twisted necks and stabbed backs. Bruises of many different colors, depending on their diverse races. I blinked at the handsome looking fellow and the pretty lady, who didn't seem to notice me, and didn't flinch at their wounds.

"What's your name?" The lady asked the young girl.

"Kate."

"Kate. That's wonderful." Hands teased the hair gently, a smile glowed in her eyes.

The man telling jokes clapped his hands, "Okay okay uh... who's ready to go?"

A chorus of "me me me me me" from all, some in different langauges, and they marched in a line as he bent and got up, following the shuffling man to a place blocked off by a large crowd. The woman gently nudged the girl with a bullet to the heart to the last of the line and she objected, but was countered sternly with:

"No, no, it's your time."

I furrowed my brow in confusion. She tsked as the girl turned, "So young, they can't find the gate by themselves."
I finally spoke up when the girl clutched her balloon and skipped off.

"Ma'am...what is this... this place?" I looked around. It seemed like heaven, but then...

"Everywhere. No where. Everyone arrives. And nobody stays."

"Then why--"

"It is... a seperate place." She snapped quickly, smiling again as her mate came round again, taking his place next to her and raising his eyebrows at me.

"You don't look hurt to me."

I shrugged. He turned to his redheaded friend, "I was uh, thinking... plant a thumbtack back home?"

She smiled: "Yes, sounds like fun."

"Then maybe after we'll walk down by the magic show and hold hands?"

She stuck her tongue out at him, "Sure."

Then she turned, and asked my name.

I cringed,

"I don't... I don't really know.."

"Heard that story before." The man grinned, slapping his knee.

I began to get frantic, not understanding where I was, but haunted by the uncanny familiarization, "Please. What are you doing here? Who are you? What am I--"

"It's very simple." The redheaded lady began, and the smiling man would pick up, switching off like players in a tennis match:

"We are everyone."
"We are no one."
"We are bitches."
"Terrorists."
"Mothers."
"Comedians."
"We comfort children."
"And we ruin cities."
"We love."
"We hate."
"We're rich."
"We're poor."
"We're wise."
"And foolish."
"We're happy."
"We are... Les Miserables."

They went on, smiling joyously, like they knew more than the aimless crowds walking past them into the small illuminated booths within the large tent,

"You see... nothing in the universe ever really dies. It just gets cycled. Things bloom in the cracks and people rise from the ashes. Everything changes, and yet one thing remains constant--there is always a balance. There is always dark and light. Evil and good. Sanity and madness. There's always that one wave that ruins your sandcastle, or that one man that ruins your expectations of all the others. Time is just an illusion to make us believe there's some kind of change, and peace is the small moment where you reload your rifle."

"The universe knows this... and who better to show the world than us?"

Their too perfect hands clasped over the map full of pegs and thumbtacks and I felt an eerie chill run up my spine. The handsome man with the large smile and the wide button nose leaned forward and pulled a yellow sort of thumbtack from behind my ear, and handed it to his partner, who's sharp facial features could've been staring at me from the page of a magazine. She took it, pointed a finger on that map, and raised her hand to stab.

I recognized them then, and my stomach doubled over in shock.

"It's your turn now, Daisy." Ivy said happily.

"What--?" I stared dumbly on in disbelief.

"There's two things in the world that will live beyond time or curse of death," The Joker explained simply, "The first is love. The other? Chaos."

My questions sped out like a gush of water:

"So you couldn't cross over? So you're in your own place? ...Making disasters happen, and guiding the kids...?"

"Maybe." Ivy glowed, running her hands through thick bloody locks.

"Or maybe... this is all a punchline to a funny...

dream."

The Joker--or in this case I suppose I should've called him Jack--laughed a happy laugh as May punched the yellow thumbtack into the map's large, thin surface.

And I woke up, yelling at a pounding pain in my head.

Jay

"You clocking out early today, Gambol?"

"Yeah. It's not like there's much going on. I've got errands to run anyways."

"No clubs later?"

"Gordon, I haven't stepped foot in a club in years."

I smirked to myself as I left GPD, heading for the asylum with a master e-key in my pocket.

Once a goon, always a goon.

Penguin

He'd come crawling back with the invitation of my gift. Jay and I knew, it was only a matter of building trust. And when he did, I'd get him.

We had our reasons. Let's just say.

Riddler

"The itsy bitsy spider... crawled up the water spout..."

I whistled, smirking without turning a glance as my favorite attendant entered my room to release from my cuffs, in preparation for a therapy session after lunch. I sneezed as she walked over and she tsked,

"Marius, you're always catching some bug. Do you regret keeping so clean?"

"Do you regret quitting the bookstore?" I smiled at her, grabbing her wrist as soon as the cuffs were off. She flinched,

"That was a long time ago...." then, she reached into a pocket wearing an expression like she couldn't believe she was doing this. But she would. She was in love with me.

"The black guy I've been talking to gave this to me while I was on break..." She flinched, handing me the ticket out, "It's from Penguin, he said. Use it wisely."

Penguin. I smiled, "Of course, my friend."

"It took me forever to find someone who'd make one..."

"I know. But you did it. You pulled through like I knew you would, Eponine."

She smiled at me, then looked around urgently, "I had them make soup, to help with your cold. They should be coming around with it any minute. I have to go..."

"Bye Eponine." I clutched the key card behind my back.

"Anytime."

Cosette

I shut my medicine cabinet, clear of anything except for toothpaste and other mild little doodads. I rubbed my eyes, frowning at the discovery of a small wrinkle near the lids.

"Twenty-six. Jesus, I got a wrinkle at twenty-six."

I slammed my fist into the wall, not really knowing why I'd done that, blinking in surprise.

Angel

"You shouldn't really fret over it, sis, everybody gets wrinkles at some point."

"Speak for yourself. Someday you'll have girls chasing down after you, and you don't even know what you look like!"

Homer shrugged from across the cafe's small table, plucking the spoon I'd been staring into out of my hand, "Angel, guys ask you for dates and stuff all the time... the problem is, you don't take them."

"Well that's because..." I reached complusively into my pocket.

"Of him, isn't it?" His eyebrows snapped over his glasses in an angry stance, and he ran an angsty pre-teen boy's hand through his untidy hair, "Whoever he was? I knew there was a guy that night... I knew..."

"Homer, don't start--"

"Cosette's here."

I turned, smiling and waving her over. We always had coffee together on Sundays, ever since...

"Something wrong, C.J.?" Homer asked bluntly, "You smell stressed."

"Sit down." I urged, "We already got your usual."

Cosette rolled her eyes quickly as she stirred her tea, "I had... another dream."

We both knew her secret. Along with the others in the circle. Gordon, Jay, Bruce. The authorities were able to pass off Cosette's involvement as a hostage situation. In a word, things were back to the way things had been before the carnival came to town. Jay was back at the police station, although he'd been promoted after being labeled a hero for risking it all to help catch The Riddler. I'd quit Arkham, now enjoying some of the good I was doing as a social worker. The mess after the earthquake was nothing but a memory for some. Well, there were a few things left to be explained, sure...

Cosette shocked me when Homer left to go to the restroom, reaching into her large purple handbag and pulling out a thick manuscript slyly tucked within an envelope.

"Took me years. But here it is."

I gasped, staring at the title, set in black and white in the center of a large expanse of white.

"Just Paint Your Face." I read, staring back up at her, "Why are you letting me..."

"It's yours. Do what you want with it. Hell, burn it. I don't want anything to do with the damn thing."

"But, why? You always said you wanted the world to see them as you did."

"Sometimes, Angel, people deserve something better than the truth. I don't think they wanted that, anyways. They had very private moments, and not all of them are even written down. They never could be. And that's the point. I just wanted someone to read it... someone who'd understand."

I nodded, taking the holy thing in my hands with care, and tucking it into my own red purse.

When we all finished, Cosette stood, saying she would like to go visit 'their tree'.

Riddler

Joe was a big man, and also a really lame dullard. Too bad he'd worked as something of a henchmen for me in the past, because that also meant he trusted me.

He'd been fired at the police station. But they were always needing attendants here at the asylum, so here he came and here he stayed.

I cleared my throat as he set the grand bowl of soup in front of me.

"It's hot, Nygma." He warned.

I stared intently at the steam rising out of it.

"Yes... hot."

I sniffed then, and he turned to leave, "Wait."

"Yeah."

"There's a hair in here. I do not like hairs in my soup."

He looked puzzled and stalked over, looking into the bowl intently.

Fools. Trusting enough of my charisma to give me such a poorly secured cell, bring my food to me on a tray. I loved them. Such a weak and paraniod, however undoubtedly friendly, race.

I cringed, remembering I was one. It was hard, remembering. When you were trapped in white and whistling songs to no one at the ceiling.

Who am I?

I got up, pacing slowly on my lame leg as he stared into the bowl. When his eyebrows snapped together in scrunity, I took my cue.

"I don't see any ha--"

I snarled hungrily, twisting my lips up as I grabbed at his head and neck and pushed down. He struggled. But my arms were still very strong. He gurgled a scream but I muffled it, grunting in satisfaction as I gave more pressure, hearing his nose break and the golden, innocent liquid turn red. In a final and spastic attempt to save himself from his pitiful death, he reached and grabbed my arms and clawed. I just chuckled as they weakened, stilled, fell limply as his sides with the rest of him.

I wiped my hands on his uniform, searching his person for any hidden weapons, for he was the type that would carry them. I hit paydirt with the strap on his leg, brandishing a gun.

"Fools. Fools!" I chuckled, ready to do what I had to in order to get out.

To get back to her.

"She loves me. She love me not." I chanted darkly, eyes shifting about the halls in a calculative manner.

Cosette

In the place where the apartment had burned down, stood a tree.

It was ugly. It grew too fast for the people to comprehend and when they at first tried cutting it down it was unique in that it just didn't budge. The bark was twisted, scaled. The branches were gnarled and it hardly bloomed anything. Along with fixing up Gotham Memorial Park, they'd tried planting things around it to make it look better. But everything died, with the exception of marigolds or orchids.

So after a while we'd just learned to live with the impressively terrible thing. There was a bench underneath it, where lovers would sit in the evening and bums would sleep at night. When it rained it it looked as if it were dripping blood. When the sun shined it cast a dark shadow over the bench, like the pillar of smoke that stood high that fateful day, not too long ago.

There was graffiti on the walls and sidewalk surrounding it--secret notes of devotions and scrawlings of pent up hatred. Poetry, questions, and more. But the plaque that stood in the very front and center of it, engraved in simple black and white marble, brought the most attention and gave the few tourists we had and even the locals something to ponder over.

Jay stood silently beside us all of a sudden.

"Damn beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yes." Homer said. He was growing so fast, but had not lost his curt way of speaking.

Angel just smiled, clutching her red bag close to her side.

The moments passed and I couldn't help but feel the mist come to my eyes. Jay's cell phone beeped cheerily just before I thought I'd completely break, thoughts of that dream pounding in my head.

(I still never got the chance to tell them

It's your turn now Daisy)

What did it all mean? They'd given me so much closure, and still left me with confusion. But that was just like them. To be many extremes, even in death.

Jay's cell clicked closed with a cute blip. I stared up at the strange branches, twisting like scars into the sky. I laughed inwardly at the irony of it all.

What Jay said next chilled my bones with a spark:

"There's been a break at Arkham."

Angel's mouth stiffened. Homer stroked his glasses carefully. Jay put his hat back on,

"I have to go investigate. I'll see you guys around. Stay cool, alright?"

Long, raw silence, as he pulled away as quickly as he'd arrived.

Homer broke it: "Sis. I'm going to go see if Gordy wants to play ball or something."

"Alright, but don't go to far..."

"I'm not six anymore." He insisted.

I stared at the ground, feeling sick. I knew who'd been smart enough to break out, and I knew why. The weight of The Joker's blade felt heavier within my purse.

"Cosette," Angel sighed, "I went to a house yesterday. To investigate a case... And... I found a girl in the family's closet. Apparently, they'd found out about child services coming and... they'd shot her. Right in the chest, no mercy."

"People panic. And when they panic, they get stupid."

She sighed again, "I know. I just feel bad for the girl. When you find them young like that, you wonder if they'll even find their way to a better place."

I paused, "I think they've got people for that. You know?"

"I guess."

She turned, and I called after her, wondering why she was leaving my side.

"Cosette..." she called plainly, "I've seen you with boyfriends and I've heard the way you talk about love. And your face when I ask you about... what he did. You haven't really seen it yet, but I hope you do soon. Because whether it's horrifying or splendidly romantic, love is the best and most frightening thing you'll ever know."

"Angel I--"

"Legs and nails." She shut me up, walking faster.

I stood, knowing I had a decision to make. Do I join the mad man, or do I bask in the innocent sun with my friends? I know the path Ivy had taken... but was that right for me?

(you'll be one of us

it's your turn now

this is your chance)

I simply blinked, staring at the engraving set in stone beneath the tree by an anonymous benefactor, one I knew very well by the name of Bruce Wayne. It was something The Joker would have prided in, for it was a variation of the last lines from his favorite book: