"Death is not the opposite of life, it is simply a part of it."

"It's been 3 weeks since Arthur Fleck escaped Arkham Asylum and has been on the run, authorities are on the lookout for this dangerous individual. Alfred is 5 9", pale, long thin shoulder length hair. Beware of scarring on-..." Alex hummed along to a little tune to her head, absentminded and not listening to whatever the radio was saying. She could be classified as reckless in the moment, not completely listening to the most likely misinformation spreading. Gotham was known for lies.

She had gotten good at that since the death of the Commissioner, since all the radio and news was broadcasting about the supposed Joker running around killing people. Ridiculous they thought to give this man a name, because of course it has caused uproar.

The unstable citizens who honestly need to be locked away, take the craziness spread on the news and bring it to life in the streets. Anytime Alex goes patrolling, or going to and from the station, more and more individuals are roaming the streets, clown makeup painted on their faces. Lighting small fires, breaking shop windows, stealing, absolute tomfoolery. Always those people out in the world who take the worst kinds of people to idolize.

As Alex makes her way down the busy streets, she comes to a halt as some dumb clowns run through the street. She rolls the window down, yelling at them to move the hell outta the way.

...

Alex quite early to pull up in front of the church, the crowds slightly less than Mayor Mitchell's service, knowing what happened at his, I'm sure people are hesitant to show up. She parks quite far down the street. As she got out of her car, she smoothed down her simple black dress, deciding to dress formally but not too formal for the event. She had actually met Jonathon Pike once before. She wasn't as sad as those who knew the man well, but she felt low. As she generally does these days.

She makes her way towards the grand stairs leading up to the old church. Religion was not something that came into Alex's life often. She resented it since she was a preteen, as her parents always tried to teach it upon her, sent her to awful catholic schools, all that good stuff. The last time she was here was probably her mothers funeral when she was 16 years old. The memory didn't really bring awful, gut wrenching feelings, but a lingering sadness. She loved her mom of course, though she was never the nicest woman on earth. That seemed like such a long time ago, she's accustomed to being motherless.

Alex scans the crowd, trying to spot Gordon or Jensen. A lot of officers are walking into the building in their Sunday best. Some wave; kindly, some ignore her presence. She was used to it, the hot and cold. The business of the crowd was getting slightly overwhelming, and she tried her best to spot a familiar face. She pulls open the grand doors, hand wrapping around the large gold handle. It was so cold to the touch, even though it was nearing the end of summertime.

She pushes through the crowd, anxiety keeping her from making proper faces and identities. She needed to relax, but it was too suffocating. Alex leaves the foyer and enters the main room, lines of pews that had lingering attendees, that was oddly not as full as expected. Everyone was still giving their condolences to friends and family and speaking fondly of Pike together in the main entrance. Alex beelines to the far right corner, avoiding everyone's eyes. She feels red rush up her neck to her cheeks, hands becoming clammy.

She was supposed to be here at Detective Alex Flores, scared of no one, assertive, smart, confident but at the moment, she was just Alex Flores; the insecure and anxious mess that she grew up to be. She sits at the very end of the pew, attempting to control her breathing. A weight lifts off her chest after she's exited the crowd, and she doesn't feel like the air is being ripped from her lungs anymore.

Her ears pique at a nearby conversation. She glanced to her left and farther down to see Mayor Reál dressed in a gorgeous long black dress and a blazer to match, with several guards surrounding her. She's speaking to a broad shouldered man, who's back is facing Alex's direction. Alex feels a pang for guilt, avoiding the crowds, not giving condolences to the family of Jonathon Pike. She turns away fast and stares ahead.

Bruce watched her practically run inside the church, hands balled into fists at her sides, looking side to side like a child lost in a store. It had dawned on him he would be seeing her for the first time, out of his batsuit. A part of him worried that she'd recognize him immediately. He's been physically closer to her than he had with anyone else in the last few years really. Someone who didn't know both identities. He knew she was more than intelligent.

As he watched her walk inside, she radiated nerves. Bruce picks up his pace, thinking of a reason to go after her, as someone who isn't supposed to even know who she was. As he enters the building, all eyes are on him, but nobody approaches just yet. As months go on, he doesn't get publicly bombarded as much as he used to, but it eventually happens. He wanted so desperately to leave the manor more, but his deep rooted anxiety keeps him from doing so as often as he'd like to.

He steps inside the main area and sees her to his far left, controlling her breathing and visibly shaking. Bruce wonders if something else had happened to her. From here she looked like a woman having a panic attack. The thought tugged at his nerves. Just as he's about to make his way over irrationally, the recognizable voice of Mayor Bella Reál calls out to him, "Mr. Wayne!"

Bruce spins around and comes face to face with the woman. She's spouting off about being excited for their meeting in the next weeks and he's quickly agreeing to whatever meeting Alfred booked him for, before excusing himself. He makes his way over to Alex and sees in the minute he didn't have an eye on her she relaxed a fair amount, but her hands subtly shook in her lap. Bruce slows his pace as he gets closer to her. She suddenly glanced up at him, eyes slightly glossy. Her worried expression changes into shock, but she quickly masks it.

"Uhm, Hi. Are you alright? You seem a bit... distressed." He asks, he even shocks himself a little. He can practically feel the eyes of people on him, but he ignores it. He can't help but look down at her dress that hugs her body, exposing the rest of her long legs. Bruce felt so different in this setting with her, where they weren't partners, but simply funeral attendees. He was a whole new person in front of her right now, not hiding behind his mask.

"Oh, I'm fine. Crowds just make me.. anxious." He recalls that at the Pike residence, she moved through the people without fear. But that's as when she had her badge and gun handy. "I also haven't stepped into a church since my mothers funeral. It's just a weird feeling being here." After the words leave her mouth, she immediately regrets over sharing.

Alex dug her nails into her palm to make sure this wasn't a hallucination. The Bruce Wayne was in front of her, who approached her, and asked if she was okay. Then she just randomly dumped trauma onto him. She never met the man before, but saw him in passing at Mayor Mitchell's funeral the previous year, which turned into a wreck. She saw him on the cover of the papers or on the news channel once every few months.

She glances back up at his piercing gaze. He had very pale skin, dark brown hair that was currently styled formally. He was more fit than she remembered from photos. His wide shoulders were intimidating, but alluring all at once.

He nods in understanding at her statement. Unsure of what to do, Alex motions to the empty space next to her, wordlessly inviting him to take a seat, if he wants. He shows a meek smile before sitting down next, keeping roughly a foot between them. "My condolences, about your mother." He paused. "I don't like crowds either." He states. Alex turns and gives him a look. "Did you know Mr. Pike well?" He knows damn well she doesn't. They stared at his body together days prior. No real connection there.

"Not really no, I met him once. I'm just a uh, the lead Detective for his case. I'm working on the case. Trying to find the guy who did this to him. Also just here out of courtesy." She pauses momentarily. "My name is Alexandra Flores." She extends a hand to him. He goes to reach out but stops, and reaches out his less injured hand to shake hers. His dominant hand was cut to shit from beating the hell out of James. If she saw, she would know immediately. A dead giveaway.

"Bruce Wayne." She refrains from saying she knows, to avoid seeming weird and like everyone else he's probably met during his life. The two shake hands, a rush of familiarity washes over her, but she ignores it, assuming all emotions she has at the moment are heightened from anxiety she's been experiencing. As the service passed on, Alex and Bruce fell into a comfortable silence. She felt a little less suffocated having him there.

Bruce had left the funeral feeling guilty, lying to Alex's face throughout. But he knows it was best, and it was the first time he's done it before.

...

Exhaustion poured over Alex as she crashed backwards onto her bed, still clad in her formal clothes from the day. Her blinds were wide open and noticed it was for once a clear sky, not clouded with gray. As time passed at the service, she was calm with Bruce by her side. He felt familiar. Nonjudgmental, no uncomfortable feelings when they sat in silence. He wasn't the awful guy people made him out to be.

A sudden flicker in the sky catches her eye. Then suddenly there it was, his signal. The bat signal.  Sometimes when she saw it illuminating the sky, she almost wanted to go out and find him. It made her curious about what he does on a nightly basis, but she knew he was helping the little guys. Her thoughts drifted to James, and what he looked like when Batman was finished with him. Bloodied and beaten, bones broken. A part of her felt shame. She full heartedly believed he would never bother her after holding the gun to him last week. But if he thinks it okay to hurt people, he's now gotten a taste of his own medicine.