My Ghost

four

two weeks later: the mayor's charity ball

ray's point of view

I stand in front of the building, my eyes taking it all in. Gotham City Hall was structurally beautiful, with tall white pillars lining the front of it. It resembled an old Greek architecture, and besides the courthouse it was the most stunning structure in the city (although, even that may be contested by the clock tower). The crowds and press outside had disappeared except for a few valets and greeters left outside. I smooth my short black dress beneath my snow white jacket and take a deep breath, straightening my back. I could do this.

"You're good to go," I hear Black Mask instruct me through my earpiece. I step off the sidewalk and walk forwards, my heels clacking against the pavement as I cross the street.

As I step up before the hall, I do my best to avoid eye contact with the greeter. I didn't want to be recognized until I could see my father. I wanted that moment with him.

I nod to the door greeter and he nods back. "Would you like me to take your jacket, Miss?" he offers.

I shake my head. "No thank you," I reply, feeling the gun pressed against my hip underneath the coat.

I enter the hall and take a deep breath. The room is full of people, with high ceilings and dangling chandeliers. It's well lit, standing in stark contrast to the rooms I'd spent the last few weeks in. I scan the room, security stands at all exits, were they expecting an attack? Was Roman walking into a trap?

"Security by all the exits in the main room," I whisper, just audible enough for Roman to hear me over the earpiece.

"We don't need surveillance, Ms. Hady. We need a distraction!" he snaps. "Turn off your feed, I don't want to hear your sappy welcome back while I'm trying to work." I roll my eyes, touching my ear and turning off my feed.

I look around myself, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him. Bruce Wayne. Dancing slowly and, might I add, closely, to a woman I didn't recognize. His head is turned, he hasn't seen me yet. I lower my head and walk into the crowd.

As I push my way gently through the crowd, I finally spot my father. He stands next to a podium, speaking to Commissioner Gordon with a wine glass in hand. He wears a navy, pinstripe suit. He smiles and laughs with Jim, and I can only stand there and watch. He appears to be doing well, but I can see the bags under his eyes. He has a small, nearly unnoticeable amount of stubble on his chin, but I know that he would never let it grow to that length. Guilt hits me like waves in an ocean and suddenly I'm drowning. I can't do this. I can't go over there and face him. I can't-

But I have to, because he sees me. My father turns his head and his eyes land on me. I watch in slow motion as the glass slips from his hand and barrels toward the floor. His eyes widen and I freeze, a deer in headlights. The glass hits the floor and shatters to a million pieces. Gordon turns now, and he also stops in place, shocked and unsure. Nobody says a thing.

"Ray?" my father asks, unmoving.

I nod, tears welling up in my eyes. I shouldn't be here. I was only going to hurt him again, and that was the last thing I wanted to do.

"It's me," I tell him quietly.

"How?" he questions, tears leaving his own eyes. Everything in the room has stopped, and I can feel thousands of eyes on my back.

"Keep it up," I hear Roman bark in my ear.

I approach my father, holding my tears back. I would not cry, not here. I stand in front of him, and he stares at me, his eyes searching my face. "Is this a joke?"