03

Under Your Spell

"Today is a weird day." Harleen whispered in my ear. We sat in the middle of a row of crimson seats at the Wayne Memorial Theater. I had just finished rehearsal and Harleen was on her lunch. She was tearing into a sandwich while I picked at my own, appetite forgotten. "Jonny was on a rampage this morning."

I frowned. "He left before I got up this morning. After the whole meeting Bruce thing, he dropped me off at home and went straight to the asylum. I'm not even sure that he came home, honestly."

"He spends a lot of time in that creepy old place. I mean, I work there but I don't like it. Even with all the renovations that he has pushed through, it still gives me the goosebumps."

We lolled into an awkward silence. I was well aware how much time my husband was spending in Arkham Asylum. It was nearly inappropriate. If it wasn't for his complete lack of social skills, one would think that I was being cheated on.

Thankfully, that was about as likely as the sky falling.

Harleen sucked in a breath and shoved the last bits of her sandwich into her lunch bag. "Speaking of- I have to get back. Your darling husband is at court today and he wants all hands on deck."

I stood and grabbed my violin case from where it had been resting against the row in front of us. "Court? For what?"

"Iunno." My best friend shrugged and shouldered her bags. I followed her out of the theater and into the foyer before she turned to me. "Listen. I'm probably not supposed to tell you this but I think you should know. Jonny has had two of Falcone's henchmen put into the asylum.

"I don't want you to be alarmed but I think the guy today is another of his thugs. Zsasz? I think that's his name. The guy is Falcone's butcher. He slits people's throats and… poses them." Harleen paused at the look on my face and decided to backtrack. "I mean, any guy that does that has to be insane, right? I'm sure it's nothing to worry about." She waved as she hurried out into the daylight outside the foyer doors.

My heart was still thudding in my chest as I sat in the back of a taxi as it sped towards Crest Hill. Carmine Falcone… that name kept creeping up like a bad smell.

Gotham's drug and crime kingpin… my father's brother. My uncle. I hadn't had the… misfortune to run into him. Not since right after my father's death. He had done his part and kept his distance and I kept mine.

"I'm sorry, but can you take me to Gotham Cemetery?" I spoke before I even realized what I was thinking.

The driver looked in his rear-view. "Lady, we're nearly to Crest. Are you sure? It's gonna run the meter up."

"I'm sure." I clutched at the handle of my violin case. My knuckles were turning white.

The cabbie rolled his eyes took a drag off his cigarette. "Whatever you say lady."

It had started to drizzle by time the cab reached the graveyard. The sky that had been bright and shiny earlier this morning now seemed to match my mood. Dismal, overcast, gray. The driver pulled up to the wrought iron gates and looked in the mirror again. "You want me to stick around?"

I bit my lip and looked around at my belongings. I didn't have an umbrella but the rain never bothered me. "If you don't have anywhere else to be." I pulled out some cash and looked at the meter. I cringed. I knew that I should have driven today. I handed him enough for the fare and a tip before bowing out of the car.

The cool rain almost immediately chilled me to the bone and I tightened my light jacket around myself, taking care to keep a decent grip on my violin. As I walked past the gate and into the rows of tombstones, I had a lingering thought that bringing my violin had not been the best idea.

The walk to the headstone that I was looking for was a long one. Past rows and rows and back towards where the affluent were laid to rest. I passed generations and generations of Gotham's finest before finally reaching the familiar shape that I was seeking.

David Gerald Cohen

1958-1995

Father, Innovator

"You cannot discover new oceans until you have the courage to leave the shore."

I came to a stop in front of my father's stone. I placed my palm on the smooth surface, watching the raindrops splash around my hand. A wave of calm washed over me and I wondered why it had taken me so long to visit.

Like most my age, I was guilty of not making it to the cemetery very often. Graveyards were just reminders of where we were all headed, one way or another. In Gotham, especially.

I took a deep breath before kneeling on the muddy ground. "Hi, Dad." I always felt silly talking to the dead but I needed someone to talk to and my dad was always one to listen. "I'm sorry it's been so long. I have a million excuses but none of them are good enough. I hope you can forgive me.

"Dad… I'm so lost. I wish you were here. You would know exactly what to do. You would know how to work things out."

Tears burned my eyes and I tried to swipe them away. "Dad… Jonathan is hiding something. I know it. Harleen knows it. Your brother has something to do with it, I'm sure of it. He found us after you died, but I'm sure you already knew that. And, no offense, but he's a dick.

"He was so interested in Jonathan... in me. I know why you left the Falcone family, I really do. But I wish it was more of a clean break. Every time I start to feel safe here in Gotham again, he comes back up again. What should I do?"

"Dahlia?" A voice started behind me, causing me to nearly shriek. I jumped to my feet and whirled around, shocked at who had been behind me.

Bruce Wayne was standing behind me, looking sharp as ever with an enormous umbrella. Inside I was dying from embarrassment like a teenager. "Oh god, Mr. Wayne! How much did you hear?!"

He chuckled slightly before bridging the gap between us so that the umbrella was over both of us. I hadn't even noticed how the rain had picked up. It came down in buckets now, which explained why my clothes were soaked. "Not a thing that matters, Ms. Cohen." He sent me an easy smile and some of my tension melted away. "We seem to keep finding each other."

A small, sad smile came to my face as I looked down at my ruined flats. Great, those had been my favorite pair, too. "So it seems, Mr. Wayne. If only it were under better circumstances this time, yeah? What are you doing here, anyway?"

"You're not the only one with loved ones here." My eyes trailed off behind him to a massive white mausoleum. Oh, right.

"Oh god, I'm an idiot. I'm sorry. Of course."

He shrugged it off. "I've had longer to mourn, unfortunately. How are you, Dahlia?"

"I'm well enough, I suppose. Just kind of.." I looked down at my mudcaked trousers and sighed. "A mess right now. I'm sorry. I promise that I don't go traipsing through grave mud very often."

"We all have our vices." Bruce actually had the audacity to wink at me and I had the audacity to laugh right was nice. This felt… good. "Say, would you like to have dinner with me?"

It felt a bit too good for both of us apparently. My cheeks colored. "Now? I'm not exactly dressed for it." I motioned towards my soaked and filthy clothes.

"We can always go back to your house first so you can change? We could even grab your… boyfriend, is it?"

I broke out into a laugh when I realized all this time he had been calling me Cohen. I held my hand out, showing my bridal set. "Husband, or so everyone tells me."

Bruce wasn't the least bit put off. "Well, we can invite him then."

I could feel a genuine smile break out onto my face, probably for the first time in a week before a cold shard went through my chest.

Jonathan wasn't going to be home. He'd be at the asylum, as always. Toiling away. Doing who knows what with who knows whom.

I fought to keep the smile on my face but I could tell that it wasn't working by the quickly shifting look on Bruce's face. "Jonathan works a lot. So he probably won't be home. I'm sorry."

"Well then," my new friend looked thoughtful for a second. "His loss. Let's get you home and get you changed, shall we?"

Bruce held out his arm to me like a gentleman in an old bodice-ripper, and I felt conflicted. I quickly pulled my phone out my inner jacket pocket, which thankfully hadn't soaked through, and glanced at the front screen.

0 Missed Calls

Well, then. If Jonathan was going to be busy for weeks straight, I could be busy for an evening for once. I straightened out my shoulders and put the biggest smile that I could muster on my face before taking Bruce's offering. "Let's go, Mr. Wayne!"

A/N: Hello hello! Is anyone there? *taps mic*