MELLIFLUOUS ➪ Bruce Wayne {Gotham}

I

What was his name...

She tried her hardest to ignore the strands of damp, cold hair that draped over her face as the officers walked her into the city's Police Department.

They were friends; What's his damn name...

Their shoes squeaked on the smooth surface of the building's floor, creating a trail of rainy footprints leading to the commotion of the workplace.

I need someone who will listen to me...

Still restrained by the grasp of the handcuffs and strength of the officers, they sit her down in a chair nearest the middle of the building. The officers shoot her a warning, yet sympathetic glance before walking off to find someone to deal with her.

I need someone who will understand...

More thoughts like these ran through her head, along with so many questions. Was it because of the clothes she was wearing? Did ripped jeans and an old hoodie really make her seem like a crook? Or was it what she was doing?

"Detective, we got someone for you to deal with," one of the officers said to a man working on the higher level of the office.

"What could it be now?" The man questions as his voice fades out, walking down the stairs to the main level. He looks over and raises an eyebrow at the rain-drenched girl sitting in the visitor's chair with her hands cuffed. He starts walking over to her. "Hi," he begins, "I'm Detective James Gordon, who're you?"

"Depends. Are you actually going to help me?" The girl asks sassily, refusing to look up from the ground.

"I would like to, but you're going to have to give me your name first." He responds, mimicking her tone. She sighs and groans, looking up at the Detective.

"Faye," she whispers.

"What was that?" He steps closer.

"Faye." She speaks up to him.

"Alright, Faye, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?"

She rolls her eyes. "I really don't think I should be in any trouble!" She exclaims. "I just need help." She gently lunges her body back into the chair.

"Well, just explain why you got brought in." He concludes, sitting in a chair two seats down from her.

An hour and a half earlier:

Faye walked into a corner shop nearest to the train station where she just came from, frantically looking around. She wandered up to the clerk, a frightened look plastered on her face.

"Can I borrow your phone?" She asked quietly.

"Huh? Oh," the clerk responded, "there's a payphone right over there," he points to a booth outside the building.

"I don't have money!" Faye says, becoming frustrated. "Just let me use that one you have right there!" She exclaims.

"Listen, kid, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave if you're gonna keep causing a scene." He responds, leaning over the counter.

"I'm gonna have to turn my question into an action," she begins pulling off her knitted glove.

"What the hell does that even-" Before the clerk can finish, Faye punches him across the face as hard as she can. The lanky clerk falls against the counter, covering his face, blood from his nose seeping through his fingers. "AH!" He yells, gaining attention from the other shoppers in the store. Faye lifts herself over the counter, grabbing the phone, but freezes before she can dial anything.

"Who do I call?" She asks herself faintly. A ring of police sirens becomes louder as frightened people begin exiting the shop. The lights seem even brighter in the foggy, stormy weather Gotham has offered today. She puts the phone down as two officers walk in, one with his gun in his right hand, and the other with a pair of handcuffs ready.

"Are you armed?" One officer asks.

"No, you don't understand-" An officer walks over and cuffs her hands together. Faye struggles lightly, but realizes these aren't the guys to negotiate since it's their job to just get the crook and bring them back to work.

Present:

"And now I'm here," Faye finishes recalling the afternoon.

"Why did you need the phone?" Detective Gordon asks. She perks her head up slowly.

"It's a long story and kinda hard to explain." Faye responds. Gordon looks down at his watch and looks back up at her.

"I'm free until I get my next call, so you can make it a long story, or make it a short one," he says to Faye. She sighs heavily and begins:

"My..." Faye takes a deep breath, "My grandfather passed the other day because of his sickness." Gordon is taken aback by her statement, choking up a little before speaking.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Faye looks him in the eyes for a second, detecting his sympathy.

"...and so, I ran away. I've lived with him since I was a toddler. He was the only thing I had. But I remember that in his Will, he wanted me to go live with one of his closest friends. I just, I just can't remember his name!" Faye becomes upset, looking up at the ceiling to stop her tears from falling. James Gordon softly puts his hand on her shoulder, and she looks her in the eye.

"I promise you that I'll find who you're looking for,"

"That's a big promise..one that you don't have time to start..." Faye begins to look away from him.

"No, the promise starts right now." He looks at her reassuringly, lifting his hand and signaling his partner to follow him out the door to find out who the mystery-man Faye 'needs' really is.