"Yeah girl!" Lana pushed her lungs to the limit so she could be heard over the cheering row of men sitting in front of her. She succeeded at the cost of her throat, which was already beginning to burn.

After the loudness had died down and the girls got ready for their next set, Lana had to think about what just happened. She never thought she would be working in a strip club cheering for her best friend while she slid down poles. But the wild, excited attitudes of the men who hadn't moved from the bar had gotten to her, and she found herself laughing and cheering along. Pete, the main bartender, had showed her the basics; he stuck to the elaborate beverages while she poured beer from the tap and rinsed glasses.

Strangely enough, she'd forgotten why she was so hesitant to work at the Moon. That is, until her phone started ringing and she looked at the caller ID.

Adam.

"Shit," Lana muttered under her breath. "Shit, shit, shit."

She waved to Pete, telling him that she was going on break. He nodded in approval, and she dashed from behind the bar, redialing Adam's number.

"Lana?"

"Hey, Adam..."

"Hey—where are you? Its kind of loud."

"Ye-yeah, I'm, uh, I'm…"

"What's that? I can't hear you."

Lana pushed through crowds of people until she reached the bathroom. Walking inside, she let out an exhausted sigh.

"Lana? Lana! Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." She leaned against the wall.

"Where are you?"

"I'm…" She racked her brain for something to say. She couldn't lie to him, but she didn't want to tell him the truth…

It was no use. He was going to find out regardless. It was better to just tell him now and get it over with instead of facing his wrath later.

"I-I got a new job."

"Really? Where?"

"The…the Crescent Moon."

"What's that?"

"Its uh, its…" She sighed again. "It's a strip bar."

It was silent on his end for what seemed like an eternity. Lana was nearly shaking. Suddenly she felt stupid; why did she agree to do this? Whenever she listened to Dahlia, bad things happened. Whether it was going to a party before an exam or smoking a joint in their dorm with a bunch of people Lana didn't know, Dahlia never made the right decision and Lana was always taking the fall with her.

Now she's jeopardized her and Adam's relationship because she decided to listen to Dahlia—again.

"A strip bar…" Adam finally said, breaking the silence. He was surprisingly calm; Lana didn't know whether or not to be relived or terrified. "Lana, have you lost your mind—"

"Wait, no, Adam, I'm not stripping. I'm not."

"Then why are you working there?"

"I'm bartending."

"Bartending? How did you even find out about this place?"

Lana wanted to bite her tongue. "Da…Dahlia. Dahlia told me about it."

"And you fucking listened to her?! You've clearly lost your mind!" Great. He wasn't calm anymore. But then again, any mention of Dahlia instantly put him in a bad mood. "What is she doing, showing you how to make drinks for a bunch of horny old men?!"

"No, she's flaunting herself on stage in front of them!"

"Oh, this is just fucking brilliant! You listen to the girl who thinks stripping can pay the rent!"

"Adam please, this isn't permanent! I just need a paying job right now until I can find a real one. I'm not stripping; I'm not taking my clothes off for anyone. I'm bartending."

He was quiet again. Lana mentally groaned; he and Dahlia always pulled the silent treatment whenever things went wrong.

"Okay," He sighed. "Okay."

"You're not mad at me anymore?"

"I was never mad at you; I'm pissed off at Dahlia."

"Adam, she's my best friend."

"She's a fucking idiot."

"Adam!"

"She is! She thinks she can just prance around Gotham without a care in the world; she's going to end up getting herself killed."

"She knows Gotham better than you and me. She grew up here."

"She didn't grow up in the Narrows, Lana. She doesn't know everything."

"What I'm saying is that she does stupid things, but she knows that she won't get herself killed."

He scoffed. "Sure. I just want you to be safe. I don't care about her."

"Fine," Lana couldn't make Adam like Dahlia to save her life. "I have to get back to work now, so I'll talk to you later."

"…You be safe, alright?"

"I got it," She smiled. "I'll see you later."

0000

It was the first time Dahlia was aware that she was dreaming. If she was dreaming…she couldn't decide if this was a dream, or a nightmare. Or anything. There was nothing; nothing she could see, or hear...there was only black. She didn't think if it was possible to be immersed in pure darkness, but there she was, standing in it. Her breathing was becoming unsteady; she could sense someone else near her.

She couldn't see him, but she could sense his presence. The overwhelming smell of gasoline and cigarettes made it all the more easier to confirm. It was almost as if she were blind, and she only had her other senses to rely on. She was mixed with an array of emotions; confusion, exhilaration, apprehension.

His lips were suddenly on hers, but before she could react he pulled away. She whimpered in displeasure.

"Open your eyes, Dahlia."

"You know my name?" As their voices echoed around each other, she realized how surprised she sounded. The fear, to her dismay, was just as clear.

When he didn't answer, she slowly opened her eyes.

As she suspected, there was a man standing inches away from her. Or, she guessed the person was a man. It was more of a vague outline, a shadow. There were no features, nothing. It was no one, just a representation.

But she was positive she knew who it was.

Dahlia blinked. When she opened her eyes again, he was standing even closer to her; the only thing separating them was a long blade he had pointed at her.

"Are you going to kill me?" She asked, tilting her head. She could see the reflection of her pale blue eyes on the blade's surface. Looking up, she could see him smiling.

"Maybe another time, dollface."

0000

Dahlia bolted up in bed, a cry escaping her lips. She clasped her hands over her mouth; eyes wide as she listened for any sign that she woke Lana up. No footsteps outside her door, no lights switching on, nothing. She sank down into her pillows. Her head was swirling with dizziness and confusion, her heartbeat drumming wildly against her chest.

Her pillow was damp from sweating; she groaned and curled into a ball, trying to block out the nightmare she just had. Bad dreams were common for her when she was a child, but that was years ago. Whenever she had them, Jonathan would always rush into her room to comfort her, calming her down and reminding her that dreams were a "figment of your imagination." Dahlia was still in elementary school, so she didn't understand a clue of what he was saying, but it soothed her. She thought of him as her protector, preventing all the scary monsters in her dreams from haunting her.

"Irony how he's the scary monster that I never see anymore."

She hadn't let herself think about him since the fear gas outbreak last year—it was impossible to avoid his name. It was everywhere; television, newspapers, students and teachers throughout campus constantly talked about it, talked about the madman, the psycho, the killer. She didn't want to believe at first; he completely dropped off the face of the earth, she hadn't heard from him in years…then all of a sudden, his name is being dropped every second.

It was a lot to take in. But when common sense kicked in, she knew he was the one who did it. All that time she thought she needed protection from her bad dreams when in reality, Jonathan needed protection from himself. She was too young to understand then, but looking back now, it was clear that he was disturbed. Whenever he came home with a black eye or bloodied nose, he would tell her that he got hurt "fighting the bad guys in your dreams." She would laugh it off and believe him; she was young then, she didn't understand. Whenever he wasn't holed up in his room, he was being yelled at by their parents or out the house. But no matter what, he would always smile when he saw her. She'd like to think that she was the one positive thing about his life, but nothing makes sense anymore.

Dahlia didn't realize she was crying until she could taste salty tears on her lips. She wiped her eyes and turned over in bed, covering the pillow over her head. She didn't like to think about him. It hurt too much.