Half Jack

Cosette



I'd made my decision.

I waited.

The pain in my head from waking up that morning was dull now, subsiding, but still there. An old friend, just biding its time. But I ignored that nagging thought, that relentless sense of something big grabbing a hold of me and hanging on tight. I just stared at my strange little monument, thinking. Waiting.

Tick tick tick. Somewhere far off, a man was glued to his watch and rushing for a cab; stuck in his own perpetual state of madness--only it was contained and conformed and caused him to think of no one other than himself. Not too far away, police cars were rushing by while another man limped with catlike agility down a long white hallway, savoring ammunition and relying on bigger crazies he'd made deals with, sneakily, in the pill line to worm his way easily through the planned panic. He would also steal, according to police reports filed later: a large amount of medications, several other 'devices' used to subdue patients, and a fire extinguisher.

Riddler

When I ran out of bullets in Joe's gun, I punched glass and met a beloved blunt object. I used that for awhile, but when a gigantic aide confronted me and my big idiotic friends were off busying themselves with other tasks, I could only freeze for a moment, weapon held over my head and stilled by a thousand thoughts:

(this was a stupid plan poor execution old friend

WHAT IS THIS MARIUS DRUGS? !!
you see what you've done now, to your mother?
nygma nygma the enigma
riddle that

oh look at the state of it

all that blood kid jesus

Happy clean this up will ya
no more magic juice for you HAHAHAHAHAHA

He was always such a tidy boy

do you regret it?

loves me, loves me not
3 TIMES NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING)

A gunshot, and I stumbled backwards, limply cradling the extinguisher.

Cosette

A city or two away, a woman got up to go check the chicken she was cooking. It had burned. Only slightly, but it was enough. A beating would be hers tonight.

All that didn't matter. For now. I was at peace underneath this tree. Their tree. Here was where the Earth seemed to be sturdiest, and where all emotions could be found. The air was heavy but without weight, and time itself was warped and shaped into its own thing, like morality and values and every other institution humans created to save us from ourselves.

There was peace here, but it was a restless peace and it would always be.

The wind stirred, pushing east.

Was I imagining that whining noise, or was it the drone of sirens?

I frowned, turning east, walking home. Careful steps, looking back slightly. The wind roared and the ugly pain throbbed and I could only watch my feet go forward.

Riddler

The large man lay like a huge fallen tree, red blossoming sweetly on the expanse of his white-clad back.

My eyes traveled to meet the imperfect yet somehow pretty face of Eponine, who stood shaking frantically with a gun in her tiny pale hands.

She opened her mouth:

"I bring it to work sometimes you know? You never know what fucking kind of a loon is gonna come around the hall and sometimes it's not even the loons it's their families that want to visit or are ashamed of them and go crazy themselves and you were right there you see? And Lenny was right there too but he was going to--going to--so I just..." Her eyes became wild, wide things and her lips stammered, but the gun stood strong in her shaky grip, "Oh, I did a bad, bad thing, Marius. Awful thing!"

"Evvie, Evvie, calm down, dear friend."

She shut up, thankfully, quieted. She remained shaking. Havoc was still going on around, and I could hear sirens. A flicker of worry shot through my spine. She heard the sirens as well.

The poor doe eyes welled up again and I almost wanted to bash her skull in, make them close and shut her prattle. I never kept brunettes around very long anyways, and she was too damn weedy for me to use as a hench--

"Evvie." I said then, softly, reassuring.

"W-what?" She almost sobbed and it was disgusting. Crying was for the weak.

"Follow me," I smiled, "and you'll never see the inside of these walls again."

I vaguely remembered something, as I grabbed Evvie's arm, but it escaped me then.

Perhaps... it wasn't that important.

Homer

I threw the football to Jimmy, Gordy-pal, arch-enemy and best friend all in one. It glided easy off my fingertips there in the street, and I knew it hit his hand squarely as he readied himself to throw back.

"Car." I announced and we moved to the sidewalk, even though that car hadn't even rounded the corner yet. Jim Gordon Jr. was a few years older and looked like a tannish blob with a tuft of blonde on his head. He wore awful cologne because he had begun taking an interest in girls. Me? I was twelve and have no patience for those things.

Any other city, and I would be labeled something of a prodigy or freakish savant. But being blind in this setting is not an impairment, nor is it a superpower. It has its curses and its advantages. It gives you lots of time to think, and hones other skills and senses to the highest level of accuracy. I have thought, so much in fact, that I am certain I would make a very good serial killer one day. I have the tortured background for it too, and the unorthodox perspective of wrongdoing.

But I don't think Angel would approve so for now I am an aspiring detective. Like Jay only I don't want to dance in the clubs with other boys. Sometimes I get to help Jay out. It can be fun, but boring, too.

Gotham's a lot quieter. For now.

All this thinking passes in the calculative seconds in which that car revs by. See what I mean? I can do more thinking in seconds than most do before they drift into sleep.

Cosette

Sleep did not come easy that night. It was my head that was doing it,

(or maybe it's him, happy, you were expecting him to knock on the door all day, weren't you? admit it

wait wait wait that's all you've ever done Little Cosette!)

much like anyone else.

Night is supposed to be the epitome of peace. A void where everything becomes absent and faraway. You can forget all about why your agent was pestering to start another novel, why that rich hot-shot celebrity at that nameless charity function kept staring at you. Why Bruce was asking you so many questions and Angel kept giving you these looks.

Everything can wash away--your mistakes and punishments and your past days--and you can shut down and rest.

But for me, that void slowly filled up on its own. Even black had several hues, and tiny noises in the apartment became whispers and chuckles for jokes I would never grasp. My pillows became uncomfortable and my bed was suddenly too large. I felt stiff when I lay still and dizzy when I tossed myself to the other side. It was no longer just dreams that jolted me--lines were being blurred, people were seeping in.

Reality was becoming something I couldn't control.

a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before everyone else.

I wrote that, on a wall somewhere, quoted it from someplace, I could vaguely guess. I didn't know what it meant that night as it entered my thoughts, but I would soon, too soon.

And it all began with a thumbtack jammed within my head.

(It's your turn now, Daisy...)

Ticking... ticking... ticking.