Chapter Text
The moon was high and the bat was on the prowl, his little robin tucked right by his side.
But that didn’t concern Elinor.
Despite her folder full of evidence, she’d never talk to the dynamic duo in person. She couldn’t.
For one thing, they’d want to know how she gathered all the evidence in the first place. For another, they’d never believe her if she told them it was ghosts.
Because ghosts aren’t real.
‘You’re just hearing things, Elinor.’
‘Take your meds, Elinor.’
Elinor grit her teeth as her hands went white knuckled on the folder.
She’d never take those meds again, not while she still breathed.
Letting out a shaky breath, Elinor calmed herself of those thoughts. It wouldn’t do if she worked herself up, she had a job to do.
Taking one more breath, Elinor shuffled back behind the dumpster located in an alley a block away from the Gotham city police headquarters. The building in which police commissioner Jim Gordon worked and where the dark knight showed up when helping with police cases.
It was the perfect place for Elinor to anonymously drop off her folder without getting caught and with the folder falling into the right hands. Batman’s hands.
Sitting down cross legged, Elinor closed her eyes and concentrated on calling forth a friend to help.
The quiet alley filled with whispers of things not quite right and not quite there. The temperature dropped several degrees, and when Elinor breathed it fogged up the air in front of her.
Suddenly there was a popping in the back of her ears and the whispers stopped.
Elinor opened her eyes and took in the tall gangly limbed ghost before her. The ghost glanced down at her with one good eye, the other a bloody socket that left a path straight through his head and let Elinor see the wall behind him through it.
“Hello there,” Elinor said, brushing off the ally grime for the back of her jeans, “my name is Elinor and I’d like for you to do me a favor if you don’t mind.”
The ghost stared at her, his figure see-through and fuzzy at the edges.
“And why would I do anything for you?” The ghost asked, patting down his pockets, looking for a smoke.
“This is an exchange,” said Elinor, squaring her shoulders, “you deliver this folder to the police commissioner’s desk and I’ll do you a favor. Any favor that doesn’t involve hurting others, animals included, or a serious crime.”
The ghost frowned when his pockets turned up empty, and turned his attention back to the Elinor.
“I want a smoke,” said the ghost, “you got a cig?”
“No,” said Elinor, blinking, “but I can get you one as a favor.”
The ghost considered her, “make it a pack and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
Elinor nodded, and held out her hand, “we shake on it. Or the deal isn’t sealed.”
The ghost thrust out his hand and shook Elinor’s hand, his hand becoming solid for a few seconds.
A blue flash surrounded their hands and then they let go.
“I’ll know if you didn’t deliver this properly,” said Elinor with a hard look, “and you know what will happen if you renege on our deal.”
The ghost nodded and held his hand out expectantly.
Elinor handed over the folder.
“Tell me your name and date of death,” Elinor said, pulling out a notebook and pen.
“Samuel Peterson, September 1st 2010,” the ghost said, already bored with the conversation, “you better get me those cigs, girl.”
Then the ghost turned and floated away.
Elinor sighed and glanced out of her spot behind the dumpster, making sure the coast was clear.
Then she slipped out of the alley and into the night.
<><><>
Just as Batman was ready to call it a night, the bat signal lit up the sky.
He and Robin stopped on the next building over.
“Looks like the Commissioner may have something for us,” said Batman, “we’ll check it out, then call it a night.”
“Understood,” said Robin, Batman’s partner, his third Robin to be precise.
The dynamic duo were quick to swing over the Gotham rooftops, from building to building, until they landed on the roof of the police headquarters.
Jim Gordon was there, smoking a cigarette, which he quickly put out when Robin came into view.
“Batman, Robin,” Jim greeted with a nod of his head.
“Commissioner,” Batman grumbled, his voice a deep rumble.
“This came for you,” said Jim in lieu of more pleasantries, “it’s safe, no unknown substances sprinkled on it. There’s also no evidence of who dropped it off. One minute I was getting coffee, the next this file is smack-dab in the middle of my desk. Cameras caught nothing.”
Batman took the folder carefully in his gloved hands and started flipping through it.
His frown deepened as he took in the contents, before passing it off to Robin to look at.
Robin turned through a few papers, then sucked in a breath.
“B, this is…” Robin trailed off, at a loss for words, “how did we miss this?”
“We’ll look into it now that we know,” said Batman, before turning back to commissioner Gordon, “I assume you made copies.”
“Yes,” said Gordon, sticking his hands in his coat pocket, “what you have are the originals. I assumed you might be able to pick up on something we couldn’t.”
Batman hummed and took the folder back from Robin, securely storing it in his belt.
“You’ll keep me updated on anything you find?” Gordon asked, his hand reaching for a cigarette before thinking better of it, “we need to know if this security risk is a danger to the department.”
Batman nodded and turned away, quick to escape into the night with Robin on his tail.
<><><>
Back at the Batcave, Batman worked at the computer, inputting the evidence they were given from their mysterious benefactor.
The case in question wasn’t even on there radar.
The kidnappings outlined are too clean, artificial and calculated in that way that only the best professionals know how to do them.
It’s as if the benefactor had experienced the kidnapping themselves…or partook in it.
“You think one of the bad guys is turning over a new leaf?” Tim asks his mentor, pulling up a chair to sit beside Bruce.
His cowl off, Bruce frowns, stopping typing for a second, before continuing on.
“No,” says Bruce after a moment, “there’d be a location. More information on the number of people in on this. The information here is too scattered.”
“Yeah,” said Tim, “I thought the same. I was thinking it’s a kid that escaped, but there’s accounts of several kidnappings from the perspective of the victims.”
“They may have been able to talk to the other victims before their escape.”
“But the times are too far apart,” Tim pointed out, “are the victims really being kept in the same place for so long?”
Bruce hummed, “it’s unlikely. Only if there was a ransom involved, and there’s been no ask for ransom.”
“They also describe some of the kidnappers vividly,” Tim said, tapping his fingers on the desk, “that means no masks. They don’t care what the kids see because they don’t think it will ever get back to them.”
Bruce pauses again, brows furrowed, “but there’ve been no bodies. We would have noticed if there were.”
“The file doesn’t say anything about what happens to the bodies of the children,” Tim said, stopping his tapping, “just that there are bodies.”
“We need to find the person who dropped off the packet,” said Bruce, “before more children die.”
Tim nodded, frowning as the puzzle pieces floated around in his mind, trying to fit.
“Before you really get into the thick of it, might I suggest the young master head upstairs for some rest master Bruce?”
Tim turned and smiled as Alfred came upon them, setting down a plate of finger sandwiches and tea for them to enjoy.
“I’m fine Alfred,” said Tim, grabbing a finger sandwich.
“Alfred’s right,” said Bruce, turning away from the computer to clasp a hand on Tim’s shoulder, “you’ve still got school in the morning, chum.”
Tim wanted to protest, he’d stayed up much later before…before he lived with Bruce.
The thought of his parents had the bite of sandwich in his stomach turning sour.
He couldn’t believe it had only been six months since there death.
Eight months since he was officially Robin and two months since Bruce formally adopted him.
Just like Dick and Jason.
The thought of the former second Robin, his idol, had his stomach souring even more.
“Alright,” said Tim, setting down the sandwich and jumping to his feet, “I’ll see you in the morning, Bruce.”
“Goodnight, Tim,” said Bruce, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards in a warm smile.
“Night,” Tim said back as he followed Alfred back upstairs to Wayne manor.