Jeremiah Valeska | Gotham

[myheadisaprison]

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{Say you'll see me again, even if it's just pretend

[longliveme]

In the wake of his brother's death, Jeremiah has been biding his time. He will bring a better version of his brother's vision to light, but he wants to have his own fun first.

He's watched Jerome for years, always lying in wait for the inevitable moment he would come for him. He's also taken note of the people Jerome surrounded himself with. Mostly they were mindless morons who just needed someone to lead them. And then there was Harleen Quinzel. The only constant Jerome ever really had. It was fascinating, really, the way he never let her go. Most people were pawns, disposable in his brother's greater scheme, but not her. Never her.

So, he spends a bit of time watching her in the aftermath of things. Jerome's death was not taken well, which was expected. And then an idea struck him. He would break her, his brother's favorite toy, in a retrospective sort of revenge against Jerome.

For three weeks, Jeremiah appears randomly throughout the city in places he knows Harleen to frequent. He's no slacker. He's perfected the art of making himself look just like his brother, stitches and all. He allows her brief glances that happen in the space of a blink. He lets it happen just enough that it would, theoretically, fill her with hope that Jerome was still alive. Playing another game, as he was so wont to do.

And then he waited.
He stopped making those appearances and watched to see what her next moves would be. Surely, she'd seek him out, or try to. And he was so curious to see if she could find him.

Perhaps, if she did, he would keep her.

[quinnbee]

He knew that would be his last stand. He made her promise to stay out of it. She shouldn't have listened. Finding her in the days, weeks, after Jerome's death is easy. She obsessively retraces his steps. The street of the music festival. The roof. The alley. The tape of the news broadcasts is worn from so many replays. She almost believes she's going crazy when she first starts seeing him, but she knows what it feels like when your brain betrays you and this isn't it. Leeny doesn't believe in ghosts, but something of him is still with her and she can't rest until she finds it. She needs to find the brother. He scurried back into hiding before the smoke cleared and Jerome had kept her away from the plans of his last hurrah. But his raid on the architecture firm was done with a fierce purpose, so she starts tracking there. A pretty young architecture major looking for job shadowing experience. Even changes her classes to give her story credibility. Everyone keeps a tight lip about that day, but one of the security staff is easily swayed with promises of a kiss and she gets a copy of the tapes. Jerome had told her about his genius brother. His missing, reclusive, genius brother, whom he loved above all others (except her) and desperately needed to find again. If Jerome wanted Xander Wilde, then Xander Wilde was a step to Jeremiah. Finding the company's contact list is frightfully easy, and the day she calls the Wilde number and asks to speak to Mr. Valeska a car is sent to pick her up from the office. A stoic blonde woman insists Leeny wear a blindfold and ties her wrists in front of her before taking her away. The drive is long and full curving roads, but that's all Leeny knows for sure. The woman offers no conversation, and when they come to a stop the blindfold is kept on as Leeny finds herself guided by the arm through even more twists and turns. She hears a door open, then close behind her, and she is finally left alone and guideless. She gives it a moment before hesitantly pulling her blindfold down and squinting in the dim light. "A phone call would have been just fine, you know."

[longliveme]

Jeremiah has to admit, she has admirable tenacity and he is mildly impressed with her success. She hit every mark he had hoped for her to, and she was creative about how she got there. Which is why he sends for her to be escorted. Ecco knows the rules.

Once she's left alone with him, he slowly turns in the chair behind the desk to face her. It's very dramatic and creepy. Or it would be, to people not Harleen Quinzel, anyway. She was used to far bigger shows of weird. His brother was always such a gifted performer. "Where's the fun in that for me?" He drawls his words in low, quiet voice.

[quinnbee]

Even expecting it, the resemblance to Jerome is enough to knock the breath out of her. She swallows thickly and has to look away to gather her composure. When she can look at him again, she looks him directly in the eye and walks steadily over to his chair. She holds out her tied wrists and stares expectantly with one perfect brow arched. "Why?" she asks. Why haunt her as Jerome, why bring her here, why any of this?

[longliveme]

"I knew that...he would catch your attention far faster than I could. And...because you, my dear, are fascinating." He's moved to his feet to grab something sharp enough to cut the ties on her wrists. He hardly expects her to go anywhere, and if she does, what good would it do? He'd only send Ecco to retrieve her again, and even Harleen would tire of that kind of game eventually. No, he isn't concerned about that at all.

Once her restraints are cut, he pockets the knife and walks in a slow, appraising circle around her. "You know, my brother wasn't very good at much besides chaos, you just didn't have the capacity for it. I don't think he ever understood what love was like, but you... might be the closest he ever got." He comes to a stop when he's facing her again. "I find that endlessly intriguing."

[quinnbee]

Leeny practically bristles -- jaw tight and nails digging crescents into her palms -- when he talks about Jerome and love. As if he knows anything about love at all. As if he knew Jerome better than she did. She resists the urge to punch him, kick him, claw his eyes out, tear out his throat, and stands tensely still as he makes his round. "That's a lot of words to say you wanted to play with his toys. His little flock of sheep not doing it for ya? Or maybe you're just way into blondes."

[longliveme]

He sees her tension, but it does little to phase him. "His...flock comes a dime a dozen," he admits, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "you're different. Important. I want to understand why." Because Jerome had so little focus on anything as long as he'd had it on Leeny.

[quinnbee]

"Jerome loved me," she snaps, stepping up to him. "And you're stupid if you don't know that." She only comes up to his chin but isn't the least bit intimidated by his height, his strange appearance, his weirdo labyrinth. No sir, she is Gotham raised, and it takes more than that to rattle her cage. She even goes so far as to push against his chest. "What'sa matter, don'tcha know what love is?"

[longliveme]

"I think you may be the closest he ever got to it," he concedes. "But I think ultimately, you were another in a long line of obsessions that my brother had. You just happen to be the one that stuck the longest."

He doesn't hate how forward and unabashed she is. If anything, it only encourages him. "I suppose you think you could teach me?"

[quinnbee]

She openly scoffs, and turns away to look around the room instead of directly engaging with this disaster. "Please. You're obviously beyond help." She leans over the desk and flips through loose blueprints and plans. Not looking for anything, really, except an excuse to ignore him. "Did you think I'd jump at the chance? Decide one Valeska was as good as the other? Sorry, but you just don't measure up."

[longliveme]

"Do you really believe that?" He watches her closely, but he's quite certain she's not actually going to do anything-- and if he made any too-quick movements to grab the plans she was looking at, she might become far more interested than she is just now.

A humorless laugh escapes him at that remark. "Well, I guess it's the same as it's always been, then. You know, that's the problem with being a twin." He comes to stand beside her, all but hovering at this point. "People never stop comparing you."

[quinnbee]

The skin on the back of her neck prickles to have him so close, and her fight or flight reflex is screaming in every cell of her body, but she doesn't think she can get out of the maze alone. Oh Leeny, you're really in it now. She takes an even breath and tucks her hair behind her ears before crossing her arms tightly against her chest to hide the tremor in her hands. "So what is this? Do you want me because you're trying to be him, or because you want proof you're better than him? There are so many shades of messed up this whole thing could be."

[longliveme]

"Does it really matter what the answer is?" He wonders if it's possible for the answer to be both at once, but since he isn't actually giving an answer, it probably really doesn't matter. "Everyone in this city is fifty shades of screwed up, so...I don't think it does."

[quinnbee]

"The devil is in the details. Or so I've heard." Truth is, the devil is in the room with her, standing far too close and looking like someone did bad photo retouch job on the love of her young life. The uncanny valley is real and it is apparently at the center of a maze. "It matters, but you don't have to answer. You might not even know it."

[longliveme]

An eyebrow perks at her insistence. "Why does it matter so much? What difference does it actually make?" Excuse you, Harleen, he absolutely knows the reasoning behind every single thing he does.

[quinnbee]

"So something only matters if it matters to you." She looks him in the eye again, one corner of her mouth tugging downwards in a tight little quirk of disappointment. "Well, I guess you have something in common after all."

[longliveme]

His jaw sets a little tightly at that. "I didn't say that." The words are growled more than they're spoken. He takes a moment to close his eyes and collect himself, start again, his voice softer this time. "It was a genuine question."

"If you know nothing else about me, Harleen, remember... I want to understand things from every angle possible." He reaches up to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "So...explain it to me. And please," his voice turns a little firmer, but not harsh, as his hand drops down away from her face and back to his side again. "try not to compare me to him." For whatever game he had been playing, it was only to get her attention-- and he wasn't, and never wanted to be, Jerome.

[quinnbee]

She jerks away from his touch and tries to step back, but hits the edge of the desk. She has to awkwardly sidestep to get more space between them. "I need to know what the game is before I agree to play."

[longliveme]

"Who says it has to be a game?" He watches her inch away from him, and he doesn't try closing the space again. He'll let her have her space if it keeps her here. "I want to know you, Harleen."

[quinnbee]

"Everything is a game." Like. Freaking duh. "Didn't you get to know me enough when you were stalking me?"

[longliveme]

"Surface things, maybe. Habits. But..." He shakes his head, "not the way I want to know you." He reaches over to try and brush a strand of hair out of her face.

[quinnbee]

She lets it happen, but her lip curls in disgust as he touches her. "Oh god. Are you tryna smash?"

[longliveme]

He sighs and drops his hand away from her face, shaking his head. "Does everything have to circle back around this way with you, Harleen?"

[quinnbee]

"You're the one touching my face all ooh I just want to get to know you a certain way. Like damn, dude, come on. Don't act like that doesn't have a connotation."

[longliveme]

"Just because you took it that way doesn't mean that's how I meant it." Is he being huffy? He's totally being huffy. Forget creepy stalker, this is pure, petulant teenager mode.

[quinnbee]

"Oh, you're socially inept. Got it."

[longliveme]

He opens his mouth to retort, but she kind of right and he shrugs, admitting, "Sort of."

[quinnbee]

She's a lot more relaxed now that she's onto him being a total awkward nerd shut in. Definitely more relaxed than a sort of prisoner in the heart of a secret underground labyrinth should be. She leans her elbows on the desk and starts examining her nails. "Yeah, it shows. So you want to, like ... be ... friends? Or what."

[longliveme]

He watches her carefully, all the ways she's suddenly disarmed by such an admission. He's no longer a threat, or a problem to her, just awkward and anti-social and maybe trying a little too hard to fill the crazed footsteps of his brother.

It's annoying, really, but... maybe to an advantage. So. He'll run with it anyway. "....yes. I realize my...methods may be unorthodox but-- is anything in Gotham ever actually standard?"

[quinnbee]

She huffs and picks at her cuticles, thinking it over. Eventually she looks back up at him through the hair that's fallen back over her face. "I guess that's okay. But just friggin' call next time, jeez."