The rain streamed down the window, making the glass impossibly cold. It felt good on Melanie Walker's body as she leaned against it. Her blue eyes were half-closed, her lips were gently opened. A white sheet was wrapped around her body, complimenting her pale skin. She had let her fitness go and now had curves that she didn't possess before.

Her toes skimmed through the warm water in the bathtub below her. It was white like the rest of the bathroom and what seemed like a million gardenia scented candles stood on the white tiles.

A few months ago a man might have waited for her in the bathroom or her 'girlfriends' would have been screaming for her to get ready to go out to the current 'hot spot'. Not anymore. Now there was no-one in the Walker mansion but her and a handful of servants who had orders to be invisible.

Only 1/5 of the Walker's money was traceable. The rest was all Melanie's and she was all alone. Letting the sheet drop to the ground, Melanie slid into the water, pulling her blond curls away from it. Exhaling, she sunk down, letting her breath go.

No flashes came to her. In truth she would love it if they did. Something, anything to prove that at some time her life hadn't been a complete waste. Her answer was a mass of scented water that hurt to open her eyes in.

Sitting up, Melanie brushed her hair back and sighed again. Placing a black-tipped hand on either side of the tub, Melanie pushed herself up and sighed deeply, trying to get her body to relax.

"What are you doing to yourself?" the slightly humorous voice of her mother asked. Melanie shot up, looking around furiously for the woman who was now rotting behind bars. Melanie buried her fingers in her hair and curled over her knees, taking in choked breaths of air that burned her lungs.

"Ms. Walker? Are you alright?" a quiet voice asked.

"Yes," Melanie said, her voice shaky and muffled.

"You have a visitor Ms. Walker," the voice continued before walking away. Melanie stood up and toweled herself off. She pulled on the long black dress lying on her bed. It was impractical and slightly old but Melanie didn't care. She smoothed the fabric down and walked to the main foyer where the guest was waiting.

"Commissioner Gordon, is there something I can help you with?" Melanie asked addressing the old woman.

Barbara Gordon looked at Melanie with her sharp eyes. She was dressed in black pants and a tan trench-coat that revealed nothing about the weapons she was probably carrying underneath it.

"Ms. Walker, I'd like to talk to you for a minuet if that's alright," Gordon said.

"Yes, of course," Melanie said, "please, follow me."

Soon they were seated in one of the many sitting rooms the manor housed. Paneled in dark wood with a row of windows displaying the Gotham skyline on one side and a large fireplace on the other, the room was welcoming and nice, or had been when the house was for entertaining. Now it just seemed cold.

"Ms. Walker," Gordon began, "there is no easy way to say this, so I will bluntly. Since you haven't been visiting your parents, you were not informed of plans to move them to a new prison."

Melanie looked away. She had wanted to remember her parents as the elegant people they were, not in bright orange jumpsuits as common criminals.

"When we began to move them, our trucks were attacked by people claiming to act on your parent's wishes."

A slight roaring had filled Melanie's ears. Her parents had always said that if they were caught, it would be better to die than to live a life in jail surrounded by scum. Melanie knew what Gordon was going to say before she did.

"Your family is dead."

"Thank you Commissioner Gordon," Melanie said. She heard Gordon stand up and walk out. As soon as the door clicked shut, her icy demeanor fell. Melanie crumpled to the floor with a ragged yell of pure agony. Her fingers grabbed at the cold floor, trying to find something, anything solid to cling to. There was nothing, just the icy marble of the floor and the sound of raindrops hitting the window.