A/N: My apologies for the wait, one of my teachers thinks she's pretty funny giving us four chapters of a textbook to read in one week. And I've been sick, and my kid has been sick, and my hubby has a hole in his arm from a spider bite. I've been waiting for him to turn into Spiderman but nooooo...

Sooooo this is just setting some of the story up so it's not very exciting. Next chapter has the Joker and Mr. Bruce Wayne, so stick around. Thank you for all of your reviews and encouragement, you guys pretty much rock. :)


Aris could barely pick her head up from it hanging over the back of the chair she had fallen asleep in only four hours earlier. She let out a loud and painful groan as she helped it along with her hands, her whole body ached and her head felt like it was screaming for relief. It took her a few moments to realize that her cell phone alarm was ringing from her purse and she groaned again. It was time for her to get ready for work.

She struggled to open her eyes and when she finally managed it she jumped slightly at the eyes staring back at her. When she recognized it as her painting of the Joker she put a hand to her chest and stood slowly to stretch out the kinks in her spine. Ignoring the blaring cell phone for fear that she might topple over if she reached for it; she made her way to the bathroom. She turned on the light and looked into the mirror to assess the damage. The small amount of makeup she had worn had managed to give her raccoon eyes, the likes of which were bloodshot and dim. She was very pale and the back of her hair stood up where she assumed her stitches were.

"Still alive," she muttered before turning on the shower. She knew she would be late to work as she never gave herself that much time to get ready in the first place, so she decided to shrug it off and take as much time as she needed. Any sane person would have called in after a night like hers. She carefully washed up, took care of her wound and applied some aloe to her partially singed arms. After struggling through nausea at breakfast and swearing as she put on her work clothes, she searched for her knit hat but was unable to find it. She grabbed a fedora to hide the stitches, swallowed a few aspirin and was on her way.

Wayne Enterprises was only a few blocks from her apartment but the walk there seemed harder than usual. She only worked there a few days a week for a part-time filing job for a little money on the side; the rest of her income came from her paintings and with both of these she was able to live contentedly. Aris was able to carry her coat over her arm that morning as the sun was making a rare appearance that she was glad for. She was able to wear black slacks and a button-up white shirt with the sleeves rolled up quite comfortably.

The front double doors to the tall building seemed heavier than normal and she found herself dizzy when she finally made it to the elevator. She pushed the down button as she worked a few floors underground and leaned on the wall to rest in wait. All she wanted to do was sit at the desk in the dim lights and do some light paperwork to pass the time, but before the elevator reached the ground floor she realized the secretary at the desk behind her was trying to get her attention.

"Miss Smitte! Mr. Fox wishes for you to sit here in the lobby and wait for him to come and see you," she called to her with a smile, though looking annoyed it had taken so long to get her to look over.

Aris nodded slowly and stepped away from the elevator toward the cushioned chairs in the sunniest spot in the room, in the corner of the lobby. She was confused as to what this was about. She had not so much as seen Lucius Fox since she had been hired. She was almost an hour late and had never been so before, but she worried slightly that she might be fired or reprimanded. She was still tired and her head was still throbbing, she wanted to cry at the thought to speaking or being spoken to. Why hadn't she called into work like a normal person? It only took two minutes and Lucius Fox was making his way out of the elevator toward her with a broad grin that put her a bit at ease.

"Please, sit down Miss Smitte and tell me what you're doing here this morning," he said, sitting across from her with his hands folded in his lap. Aris scrunched her eyes a bit and thought hard as if maybe she might have been missing something between the day before and that very moment.

"I work here?" she asked a little cautiously. "I'm scheduled to work this morning?" she tried.

"Of course you do, dear," Lucius chuckled slightly. "Everyone has heard about what happened to you last night. It was all over the news. We know you went to the hospital, no one expected you to show up today," he said kindly.

"Oh," she answered, a little flabbergasted. She had expected the whole ordeal to make the news but had not considered being on it herself. "Well, I'm fit to work."

Lucius smiled at her patiently. "I'm afraid Mr. Wayne himself insists that you take the day off—with full pay, of course."

Aris raised her eyebrows at him, torn between feeling insulted and impressed. "Bruce Wayne says go home, does he? I guess I have no choice in the matter than, do I?" she asked and he merely smiled in answer. "I suppose I'll be leaving then."

"May I call you a taxi?" he asked politely but she shook her head on instinct.

"Thank you, Mr. Fox. I'll walk," she hoped she had not sounded unkind as she briskly made her way back out of the building. Her mood had considerably soured. Not that it had been so bright to begin with, but she decided to let her anger fall on the playboy head-honcho who apparently had too much time on his hands to watch television and poke into her business. This almost brought a smile on her face until she was stopped by a familiar looking officer after not walking even ten feet from Wayne Enterprises' double doors.

"Shit," she said before she could stop herself. She turned a delicate shade of pink at her accidental slip but didn't apologize. It was Lafferty, the officer who had driven over her painting the night before. He was a lot less disheveled and a strong cologne radiated off of him in an overpowering way.

"Well, this isn't going exactly as I planned," he laughed, turning slightly pink himself. He shuffled his feet and gave her the most devilish grin she had ever seen shine her way. She wrinkled her nose and shuffled her own feet, only because she was incredibly uncomfortable.

"Can I help you? I had a long night, I just got kicked out of my office and I would very much like to get to the art studio so I can get to work on replacing the painting you ruined." She found her head was pounding harder the broader his grin grew.

"That's actually why I'm here. I feel awful about what happened and our argument was really unprofessional, so I would like to make it up to you," he said hopefully.

She paused before answering, "You're going to give me one thousand dollars?" She felt smug at the sudden falter in his grin.

"I'm afraid I'm not that well off, but I would like to take you out to dinner at Che'Gavare."

She wondered how many more times that day she would be wishing she had just stayed at home and medicated herself into a coma. Going out with Lafferty was the last thing she wanted to do and Che'Gavare—yet another place in Gotham owned by Bruce Wayne—was far too fancy for her taste. But seeing as how she had nothing but cereal in her apartment and the amount of painting she had to do made it impossible to go grocery shopping for at least a few more days…besides, both Lafferty and Bruce Wayne owed her.

"Okay," she conceded without any enthusiasm. They made plans for him to pick her up the next night and she took off as quickly as she could down the street, pretending she didn't hear him ask if she wanted a lift to the art studio. In the time it took her to make it about three more blocks over, it came to her that maybe she should have asked how he knew where to find her. The more she thought about it, the more uneasy she felt about the upcoming dinner, and then she started feeling extremely vulnerable and even a bit stalked. First she's all over the news, then Batman is throwing her around in her own apartment, and now weird assholes were showing up where she worked. The words "should have stayed at home" played in time with the throbbing in her skull.

It wasn't long before she was standing out front of the studio. She smiled at the tall windows that were the source of the best natural light for painting outside of actually painting outdoors. Through the windows she could see the many easels that always stood waiting; there were only a handful of people at work behind them as there was no doubt the "sunrise group" had left hours before. She dropped her head and made her way inside, making sure to look for an easel away from everyone else; despite her raging headache she was still alight with the image of the ruined building from the night before and couldn't wait to get to work. As she took out her materials from her bag, she thought to herself that perhaps she could sell this particular painting to her client. Her client was a middle-aged heiress with an addiction to social get-togethers and dirty gossip. She would paint it either way, but the chance of getting the painting to her client one day late as opposed to a week brought a smile to her face.

Aris got to work as soon as she was ready, her thoughts on nothing but the events that transpired less than twenty-four hours before. The detonation played over and over in her mind; she imagined the blinding explosion, the heat on her skin and face, and the way every hair on her body stood on end while she watched the building burn with the Joker right next to her…

The building exploded again and she jumped, dropping her paintbrush on the floor. She looked around and realized she wasn't the only one to be startled, suddenly coming to the conclusion that the last explosion she heard hadn't been her imagination at all. It came again, louder and closer this time. The people around her all ran to the back of the room, some of the women screaming as the sound of gunshots started making their way toward them outside. Aris stood her ground, shaken but curious as well. It was only another minute or so before a few men in clown masks went running across the sidewalk in front of their building, carrying heavy duffel bags on their backs. The women behind her started shrieking again, everyone in Gotham knew who they were and what they meant. Aris held her breath, waiting.

He walked by their building last, shoulders hunched and looking somehow both bored and paranoid at the same time. The night before she hadn't been shocked when she saw him, it was dark out and it wasn't like she had never been a victim of one of the criminals in the city—but seeing him around in broad daylight, walking shamelessly after his frenzied henchmen was a little daunting. His painted face barely moved toward the studios' windows before he disappeared on the other side.

Aris let out a breath of relief, not knowing what she had expected to happen but feeling thankful anyway. This was short lived as not a moment later, the Joker reappeared. He walked backwards into view, taking a second look into the studio. He locked eyes with her and smiled. Aris felt like her heart had completely stopped and everything was going in slow motion. She could barely register the frightened people huddled behind her or anything else for that matter. The Joker's arm raised slowly and finally he pointed straight at her. She felt a hot flush of nerves come over her entire body.

"Oh shit," she muttered.