just_muse_me 24.2 Sorrow...
Takes place immediately following this.
"Sorrow you can hold, however desolating, if nobody speaks to you. If they speak, you break down."
Dalia ran out of the coffee shop, unsure of where she was going. Her feet took her in the direction of City Hall and once she had a few moments to gather her thoughts, she knew what she would do. She slowed to a quick walk so she wouldn't look conspicuous. The subway station was around the corner from City Hall. Dalia would get on the train and go...go where? Home to her parents' lecturing? To the apartments of friends who were probably barely getting home from work? These questions swirled in her already-occupied mind as she walked, barely paying attention to her surroundings.
...shouldn't have trusted him. Why did I tell him?...wonder what he'll do...Dad was right...maybe could go see Duela...
"Dalia?"
She was pulled from her thoughts at the voice of her boss, Mayor Andrew Stephens. They were in front of City Hall. He'd been going down the stairs, finally leaving work with a small entourage of GCPD's finest, when he saw his young assistant. Normally calm and collected, Dalia looked hurried and a bit bewildered--upset, even--and he approached her with concern.
"Mr. Mayor," Dalia said with quiet surprise.
"Is everything all right?" he asked with a frown.
She felt her stomach lurch as he looked at her. He trusted her. God only knew why, but he did. She heard James' words echoing in her mind. "I'm surprised the mayor trusts you.
"Dalia?"
She had to tell him--she was a liability and he needed to know it. Then she remembered the police officers not far from them--Layton and the other men assigned to protect the mayor. Dalia glanced from the mayor to the officers and back again, seeming a bit frozen.
To his credit, Andrew picked up on the glance that Dalia gave toward his police detail. "Why don't we go up to the office real quick," he suggested. For the benefit of the officers in the vicinity, he added, "There are some papers I'd like you to take care of for tomorrow."
Dalia nodded and he put a hand to her back, gently steering her in the direction of the building. It was the first time he'd ever done that. Theirs was a working relationship -- friendly and efficient. Like any good assistant, Dalia had gotten to know his habits, good and bad. He was a fair boss who treated his employees kindly and Dalia was no exception. He had gone out on a limb when he'd initially selected her for the internship and then later hired her full-time.
It was a potentially risky choice, even though she was only an assistant and not a lot of people knew that Dalia was from that Dent family. But Andrew's father had been a man not unlike Harvey Dent, who believed he could change Gotham City--until the City took his life. Andrew's mayoral campaign never reached the heights of zeal that his father's campaign for District Attorney had 30 years ago, but he carried the legacy with him. He was reminded of his father's memory daily. When his father died, he was partly raised by his grandfather, a retired GCPD detective known for his pragmatic and doggedly loyal nature. These factors shaped Andrew into being a risk-taker who still knew when to fold. The fact that he was mostly moderate while refusing to back down on core principles - championing to rebuild Gotham City a little at a time, realistically, rather than in broad, sweeping measures - was what got him elected.
When they were in his office, the police detail decidedly waiting down the hallway, Andrew spoke again. "Dalia, what's going on?" he asked.
Dalia was sitting in a chair at the round table they often used to work on projects - that side of the office often got turned into a mini-conference room when a few of them were gathered together. The mayor was sitting next to her, looking at her expectantly, though still worried.
Until that moment, Dalia had kept it together. She hadn't been exactly calm, but she hadn't broken down. At his steady voice and concerned look, she suddenly felt herself fighting tears. She wouldn't be able to work here any more. She could've endangered his career, the entire City...All for what? What had she been doing when she asked James to grab a cup of coffee with her?
"I hit a cop," she finally said, voice unsteady.
"You what?" he frowned.
"I understand--I'll write my letter of resignation." Dalia wiped at the tears that inevitably fell.
"Letter of--slow down, Dalia." He took his handkerchief from his suit jacket pocket and handed it to her. He found it hard to believe that she could have done such a thing without warrant, unless...had he been wrong? The fact that she was sitting here crying, rather than being pleased or hiding what she'd done told him he hadn't been, but still...he'd heard stories of Harvey Dent's legendary temper. It wasn't a stretch to think...He pulled his thoughts together. "What happened?"
"He insulted my parents," Dalia said quietly, holding the now-tearstained handkerchief in her hands. "I lost control. I let myself become a liability. I'm sorry, Mr. Mayor."
"I've told you it's okay to call me Andrew," he said, still not sure this was the whole story. "Which cop was it? Where were you at? How did he--?"
"We were grabbing coffee," Dalia looked down. "It came up in the course of our conversation...I asked him if he trusted the men on your detail. He said he did. I wanted--to know why, I wanted to know his reasons for trusting them. I didn't find them satisfactory. He thought I was being paranoid...I explained why I wasn't...it just...spiraled."
"Who was the cop?" Andrew asked again, flattered that his assistant seemed so concerned for his welfare.
"...James Gordon...the, uh, third," Dalia's cheeks flushed.
"...a Dent and a Gordon having a fight in public," Andrew tried not to be amused.
"I don't think anyone knew who we were but...I shouldn't have done it," Dalia said. "Like I said, I can go--"
"It was after you were both off work, am I right?" he interrupted.
She nodded. "Still--"
"Then as far as anyone can say, it was a lover's quarrel," he noticed her cheeks flush, "or a fight between friends."
"So then..." She looked a bit puzzled.
"You don't need to worry about being fired or about causing me any grief." Andrew smiled a little. "You're too hard on yourself--which is probably one of the reasons I hired you--but, really. It's all right. If it had happened at work--or if it affected work at all--that would be different."
Dalia was quiet a moment as she took this in. "Thank you," she said. "For trusting me--for--letting me do my job."
He leaned in toward her a bit, taking her hand. "Dalia, my grandfather knew your father when he was the D.A. My dad ran on a platform not too different from Harvey Dent's 'Take Back Gotham City' campaign. Bad things happen to good people...You know as well as I do, especially working at City Hall, that things aren't always black and white. I don't think you're exactly like your father any more than I'm exactly like mine or like--well, James Gordon III does seem to mirror his father's...that's beside the point..."
Dalia laughed a little, "I was going to tell him that my dad holding his dad at gunpoint wasn't anything personal...he...seemed to shut off as soon as he realized that my dad is Harvey Dent."
"Then he's obviously not as astute as his grandfather was." Andrew gave her hand a slight squeeze.
At that, her cheeks reddened slightly. He dropped her hand quickly, realizing his error. "Why don't I give you a ride home," he suggested. "You can tell me your concerns about my security detail. They'll be in the car following, so they won't hear."
Dalia nodded. Much as she didn't want to go home, she would have to face her parents eventually. "All right. Thank you again--" she paused, smiling slightly, "--Andrew."
He smiled back. "Don't worry about it. Let's get going."
"Sorrow you can hold, however desolating, if nobody speaks to you. If they speak, you break down."
Dalia ran out of the coffee shop, unsure of where she was going. Her feet took her in the direction of City Hall and once she had a few moments to gather her thoughts, she knew what she would do. She slowed to a quick walk so she wouldn't look conspicuous. The subway station was around the corner from City Hall. Dalia would get on the train and go...go where? Home to her parents' lecturing? To the apartments of friends who were probably barely getting home from work? These questions swirled in her already-occupied mind as she walked, barely paying attention to her surroundings.
...shouldn't have trusted him. Why did I tell him?...wonder what he'll do...Dad was right...maybe could go see Duela...
"Dalia?"
She was pulled from her thoughts at the voice of her boss, Mayor Andrew Stephens. They were in front of City Hall. He'd been going down the stairs, finally leaving work with a small entourage of GCPD's finest, when he saw his young assistant. Normally calm and collected, Dalia looked hurried and a bit bewildered--upset, even--and he approached her with concern.
"Mr. Mayor," Dalia said with quiet surprise.
"Is everything all right?" he asked with a frown.
She felt her stomach lurch as he looked at her. He trusted her. God only knew why, but he did. She heard James' words echoing in her mind. "I'm surprised the mayor trusts you.
"Dalia?"
She had to tell him--she was a liability and he needed to know it. Then she remembered the police officers not far from them--Layton and the other men assigned to protect the mayor. Dalia glanced from the mayor to the officers and back again, seeming a bit frozen.
To his credit, Andrew picked up on the glance that Dalia gave toward his police detail. "Why don't we go up to the office real quick," he suggested. For the benefit of the officers in the vicinity, he added, "There are some papers I'd like you to take care of for tomorrow."
Dalia nodded and he put a hand to her back, gently steering her in the direction of the building. It was the first time he'd ever done that. Theirs was a working relationship -- friendly and efficient. Like any good assistant, Dalia had gotten to know his habits, good and bad. He was a fair boss who treated his employees kindly and Dalia was no exception. He had gone out on a limb when he'd initially selected her for the internship and then later hired her full-time.
It was a potentially risky choice, even though she was only an assistant and not a lot of people knew that Dalia was from that Dent family. But Andrew's father had been a man not unlike Harvey Dent, who believed he could change Gotham City--until the City took his life. Andrew's mayoral campaign never reached the heights of zeal that his father's campaign for District Attorney had 30 years ago, but he carried the legacy with him. He was reminded of his father's memory daily. When his father died, he was partly raised by his grandfather, a retired GCPD detective known for his pragmatic and doggedly loyal nature. These factors shaped Andrew into being a risk-taker who still knew when to fold. The fact that he was mostly moderate while refusing to back down on core principles - championing to rebuild Gotham City a little at a time, realistically, rather than in broad, sweeping measures - was what got him elected.
When they were in his office, the police detail decidedly waiting down the hallway, Andrew spoke again. "Dalia, what's going on?" he asked.
Dalia was sitting in a chair at the round table they often used to work on projects - that side of the office often got turned into a mini-conference room when a few of them were gathered together. The mayor was sitting next to her, looking at her expectantly, though still worried.
Until that moment, Dalia had kept it together. She hadn't been exactly calm, but she hadn't broken down. At his steady voice and concerned look, she suddenly felt herself fighting tears. She wouldn't be able to work here any more. She could've endangered his career, the entire City...All for what? What had she been doing when she asked James to grab a cup of coffee with her?
"I hit a cop," she finally said, voice unsteady.
"You what?" he frowned.
"I understand--I'll write my letter of resignation." Dalia wiped at the tears that inevitably fell.
"Letter of--slow down, Dalia." He took his handkerchief from his suit jacket pocket and handed it to her. He found it hard to believe that she could have done such a thing without warrant, unless...had he been wrong? The fact that she was sitting here crying, rather than being pleased or hiding what she'd done told him he hadn't been, but still...he'd heard stories of Harvey Dent's legendary temper. It wasn't a stretch to think...He pulled his thoughts together. "What happened?"
"He insulted my parents," Dalia said quietly, holding the now-tearstained handkerchief in her hands. "I lost control. I let myself become a liability. I'm sorry, Mr. Mayor."
"I've told you it's okay to call me Andrew," he said, still not sure this was the whole story. "Which cop was it? Where were you at? How did he--?"
"We were grabbing coffee," Dalia looked down. "It came up in the course of our conversation...I asked him if he trusted the men on your detail. He said he did. I wanted--to know why, I wanted to know his reasons for trusting them. I didn't find them satisfactory. He thought I was being paranoid...I explained why I wasn't...it just...spiraled."
"Who was the cop?" Andrew asked again, flattered that his assistant seemed so concerned for his welfare.
"...James Gordon...the, uh, third," Dalia's cheeks flushed.
"...a Dent and a Gordon having a fight in public," Andrew tried not to be amused.
"I don't think anyone knew who we were but...I shouldn't have done it," Dalia said. "Like I said, I can go--"
"It was after you were both off work, am I right?" he interrupted.
She nodded. "Still--"
"Then as far as anyone can say, it was a lover's quarrel," he noticed her cheeks flush, "or a fight between friends."
"So then..." She looked a bit puzzled.
"You don't need to worry about being fired or about causing me any grief." Andrew smiled a little. "You're too hard on yourself--which is probably one of the reasons I hired you--but, really. It's all right. If it had happened at work--or if it affected work at all--that would be different."
Dalia was quiet a moment as she took this in. "Thank you," she said. "For trusting me--for--letting me do my job."
He leaned in toward her a bit, taking her hand. "Dalia, my grandfather knew your father when he was the D.A. My dad ran on a platform not too different from Harvey Dent's 'Take Back Gotham City' campaign. Bad things happen to good people...You know as well as I do, especially working at City Hall, that things aren't always black and white. I don't think you're exactly like your father any more than I'm exactly like mine or like--well, James Gordon III does seem to mirror his father's...that's beside the point..."
Dalia laughed a little, "I was going to tell him that my dad holding his dad at gunpoint wasn't anything personal...he...seemed to shut off as soon as he realized that my dad is Harvey Dent."
"Then he's obviously not as astute as his grandfather was." Andrew gave her hand a slight squeeze.
At that, her cheeks reddened slightly. He dropped her hand quickly, realizing his error. "Why don't I give you a ride home," he suggested. "You can tell me your concerns about my security detail. They'll be in the car following, so they won't hear."
Dalia nodded. Much as she didn't want to go home, she would have to face her parents eventually. "All right. Thank you again--" she paused, smiling slightly, "--Andrew."
He smiled back. "Don't worry about it. Let's get going."