Title: Like a spoke of the hubless wheel
Characters: Cassandra, Commissioner Gordon
Prompt: #10, Approach-Avoidance
Word Count: About six hundred words.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
A/N: Toon continuity, a bit in the future. Not AU, just unsupported by canon (as far as I know).
Gordon's bitch, everybody calls her behind the Commissioner's back. Gordon's witch, they think in the hoped-for privacy of their minds. Nobody knows her affiliation, or even her country of residence. Mossad II, some people say. The "New New" Scotland Yard, maybe. She has connections up the wazoo, everybody assumes, but dresses too well to be a Fed.
It's all rumor. She speaks rarely, never more than a couple of words. She could be anywhere between thirty and fifty. Whatever her age, she is beautiful.
Only the Commissioner contacts her, and only for the really important cases. There are no net coordinates for her in any of the global directories. Some people suggest that the Commissioner just has to think loud enough about her to make her appear. Some people don't laugh when they hear that suggestion.
Are she and the Commissioner friends? If so, they have an strange way of showing it. Never more than the shortest of professional nods, a casefile chip passed crisply, and the greenest new cop in the building to show her to the interrogation room. It's a tradition.
Somehow, the cop is a little less green by the time he comes back. There is something about Gordon's so-called interrogation specialist that makes people afraid without knowing why.
There is a theory going around the grapevine, that perhaps she and the Commissioner were lovers. Maybe it's just that cops would like the image; the Commissioner was a hottie in her time according to the records, and the images conjured are rather interesting... until you realize who you are fantasizing about, and how likely they would be to know.
The interrogation always goes in the same way. She sits in front of the suspect and looks at him. Sometimes nothing happens for hours. Sometimes they start swearing in a few minutes. Flirting with her. Maybe attacking her. Those who saw something like that, swear that she isn't human.
She never asks any questions. Just sits and looks, and eventually goes out of the room. The Commissioner is always there waiting for her. They exchange a few words, she tells Commissioner Gordon things that only the suspect could know -things that always turn out to be true- exchanges nods with her and leaves the building for the airport, and from there to nobody knows where.
Once it was different, though. I was there -I was the greenest cop in the building at that time- and could hear the conversation.
"Stay in Gotham. Please," asked the Commissioner. "The city still needs you - and you still need to help as much as you ever did, that's why you always help in these cases. Stay. Help more." I tried to keep my face blank, but it was strange hearing the Commissioner beg for something.
"Can't. He doesn't want me here."
"Dammit, he doesn't own the city! And no matter what he thinks, he owns neither of us."
The woman smiled sadly and shook her head. "But I owe him. Can't break my word."
The Commissioner shrugged, still angry. I wondered who was this person who could stay in front of an angry Commissioner Gordon and not flinch. Heck, she was still smiling almost fondly. "You will come back for the next case, though. Some things can't be helped."
The woman's smile deepened. She looked almost like a teenager. "True."
She hugged the Commissioner and I turned around and pretended to check my commlink. Maybe they used to be lovers, maybe it was something else, but whatever it was, it wasn't my business.
I've never told anyone this story, and probably never will. I even try not to think too loudly about it.
Just in case.