Chapter Four

"We do not so much need the help of our friends as the confidence in their help in need."

-Epicurus (3rd Century B.C.)

No matter how small or insignificant the problem is you can always count on a friend to help you through it. It might not even be a problem you need solving but you might just need them there to help you through what is going on. Friends are one of the main things that keep you not necessarily sane but, grounded so that you don't fly away like a balloon on a windy day. They are part of who you are no matter how much sometimes you don't want them to be, they help us figure out who we are and they help us through when we don't have a clue. No matter what happens you will always love them no matter what they do or you do, in the end you'll ALWAYS find a way to keep a true friendship going.

Did you know that our friendship used to three? Things used to be amazing, as blissful as heaven. Until there was only us two. The only thing that keeps us somewhat sane in the end is each other. Back then, we used to be bathed in this glorious light, some of the best that Gotham had to offer. Until we were thrown in the shadows. The change was sudden and powerful, but we had each other to lean on. Standing by one another, we were able to remain on our feet instead of crumpled to the ground.

Once upon a time, we were connected by golden chains, but hard times forced us to be interlocked by shadows...

I blinked at Bridgette in shock. My mind was still happily basking in the feel of water running down my spine. Music had been dancing unsung on my tongue. One of the very few times that I was aware of my urge to sing, I realized that I didn't want to sing in front of them. It wasn't Bridgette that I was afraid of. It was Ivy and Harley, people who haven't yet experienced my chronic singing. Arkham didn't feel to me like a place for music. So I was going over dozens of songs in my head, repeating melodies over and over in my head again and again, not really paying attention to the white world around me. I couldn't get my brother's song out of my head, basking in the pure beauty of it. Bridgette's voice was a rope thrown out to me, trying to reel me in from my Lala Land endeavor.

Placing my papers and crayon down, I plopped on my cot and pulled my knees close to my chest. A small smile spread on my face as I sang over to her, "What did you say dear?"

Uneasiness washed through the smooth white walls. Whatever Bridgette had said, she didn't want to repeat it. "You heard me," she said awkwardly.

Hm. Yes, my subconscious had heard it. Running through the words in my head, playing over them, analyzing them, soon an even bigger smile came over me. Poor, poor, ignorant Bridgette. "Well duh, silly, it's because they're interested in you," I teased.

"But why?" she pressed on, with a tinge of desperation in her voice.

"Well poop if I know," I shrugged. "Bridge, all of us humans were made to where it's near impossible to decipher what goes in the opposite sex's mind. Maybe it was meant to be that way, to make sure that we're not too similar to each other."

"Megan," Bridgette sighed. "You know that answer isn't good enough for me."

Of course it wasn't. My best friend has this natural inbred curiosity inside of her, where she tries to understand what is going on around her. Knowledge is almost in a way, her Achilles heel. When she has a question and she wants it solved, she'll go to the ends of the earth to quench her thirst for knowledge. That's part of why I like her so much: her adamant determination. She's not harebrained like I am.

"Okay, okay," delighted, I threw back my head with a laugh. "I see how it is. Alrighty then, let's go through a list of Bridgette attributes and try to deduce which one it is shall we?"

"Oh dear," Bridgette groaned, but I ignored her.

"Based on how superficial our society it is, let's start with the things that are shallow. First off: you're gorgeous Bridge."

"But-"

"And I'm not just saying that because I'm your friend," I interrupted her interruption. "You know that I only say things when I absolutely mean it. Every word I say is some shade of the truth, regardless of how ludicrous and absurd it may sound to those who hear it."

"Yes, but Megan you only say what sounds like the truth for you. That doesn't mean it's real though."

"Pfhhht," I blew my lips with a raspberry. "Bridgette, I'm not going to sit here and convince you of what I think. Because it is honestly the truth, I don't care what you say. Everyone thinks you're beautiful, you just have to see everyone's reaction. You capture people's attention when you walk into the room." Of course, she didn't say anything. And I didn't expect her to. Throwing myself backwards, I folded my hands over my stomach and stared up to the ceiling. "Alright...so that attribute didn't go over well with you. That's no problem, it's conceited anyways. Now let's go bypass society's standards for being desired and go to the stuff that actually matters. Secondly, you're smart. Like, insanely so. You've always been a straight A student and you graduated along with the top of our class. If it weren't for you and Cam," I laughed. "There's no way that I would've done as well in school as I did."

"You're smart too Megan," Bridgette groaned.

"Yeah, but I'm a different kind of smart. I lack the motivation. Because of you, I actually care about that red number at the top of my papers," I continued. "So, considering the humongous eggheads that Crane and Riddler are, it's really no wonder that they're interested with you on that level. And you're funny too. Sarcastic, witty, and interesting. You're a blast to be around.

"You know how I am, flitting around like a hyperactive hummingbird, settling on one friend before I get bored and fly over to the next. I get bored so easily, that it takes a lot for a person to make me stick with them. Most my of friendships start weakening in a few weeks, the longest they last is months. But you," I broked off and smiled in nostalgia, "you never bore me, make me wonder about how much fun I could be having somewhere else. We've been friends for years; you're so entertaining. I've been friends with you ever since kindergarten and never once did I consider leaving you behind. The thought of not being friends with you is insane, I couldn't imagine having any more fun with anybody else. Anyone. And so...Crane and the Riddler must see that also. They must realize that you're an amazing person Bridge, and in their own creepy ways, they're trying to get in on the fun. They have the Schoolboy Complex, where the best way they can show their interest is through say at the very least they're...intrigued by you."

Bridgette was silent for a while, so long that I figured she didn't hear me. Eventually the aggravating silence stretched on and I rolled forward onto my stomach, propping up on my elbows to glare at the wall. Here's a small fact about me: one of my pet peeves is when a conversation is just dropped with no good reason. Fueling on a conversation is an easy task for me, but I still expect for someone else to stoke the flames, to urge them to climb on higher. Dead silence is enough to convince my mind of my ultimate fear...that I'm alone. And I can't stand that. If there are people around me, I have to know before it gets to me. There has to be proof of the life around me, of me not being the only living and thriving person with blood pumping through their veins in the place.

Just as my right eyelid was starting to twitch, Bridgette's soft voice came to me through the wall. "Oh," she whispered simply.

It was only one word but it spoke a thousand emotions. In her voice was this soft spoken awe. She was taking in my words as if they were water and she was a dry sponge. I could hear the blush gathering on her face and...something else. Something hard to describe, an occurrence that words could just barely grasp. It was a spark, the one you get when a boy first says your name, when your fingers collide as you reach for the same thing, it's...the beginning of something big. Something infamous to the heart, a handicap to the mind. I couldn't be sure, I mean I couldn't see my best friend's face, but- Oh dear, was she developing a crush?

All from her saying one word, I thought to myself in shock.

Swallowing tightly, I kept myself from scolding her. This was insane what she was starting to feel. Things couldn't have been any worse. Everything about it was just wrong, wrong, wrong. We were in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and she was becoming infatuated with the wrong people. This was ludicrous. It was absurd!

But those logical words were but a very hushed secret. They were lost in the roar of all my other thoughts, the songs, and the strong happiness. As soon as I thought of how this wasn't right...I forgot.

Dazed, I blinked at the white wall, trying to reach for what was forgotten in my mind only to come back empty handed. Maybe this should concern me. I was becoming more forgetful than usual. Yet the grin on my face told me I was too happy to care.

With a laugh, I plucked up my previous drawings and made precise strokes at them with my pink crayon. The color was vibrant and pretty, not to mention thick. The bright side was, that when the side of my hand accidentally rubbed against the paper, there was no smudging. It wasn't like charcoal where I'd have to draw with my hand specially posed. It was easy, and I could be as lazy and careless with my positioning as I wanted to. That's a plus sign. But then, it's so waxy. While the lines are colorful, there's little awkward blobs of wax that I have to smooth over with my fingernail. The cheap wax could make the carefully drawn lines look crude in some places, until I work on them with some artistic determination. And not to mention that, but every mistake is permanent. There's no erasing, no re-does. What I draw is what I end up with.

Making a small sound, I leaned back and held a drawing between my hands, displaying it in the light. I observed it with close scrutiny, before pinpointing some mistakes and diving in again.

"So Bridgette," I started. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

What Megan had said had threw me for a second and for some reason I started to feel tingly, like little sparks of electricity were making their way through my body expressing my...pleasure at this situation. My cheeks flushed and not completely for embarrassment this time around. My mind quickly pulled out the file in my head labeled 'Qualities to look for in the opposite sex'. Time and time again during High School and College I had looked for these qualities in the male population and to only find two with most of the qualities on my list. One completely failed and the other was my best friend's brother.

"Bridge?" Megan said through the wall separating us

"Oh!" I said "Well, actually I'm going through The File" I could feel Megan's shocked expression staring into the wall and at me. The File was what I referred to when I found someone that could potentially fit my standards and while Megan knew exactly what it was, she didn't know what things lay in that file.

"You are? You know i've always wondered what lays in that File of yours. Care to indulge a friend?" She replied almost reading my mind.

"You really want to know?" I asked her. She has never given an outspoken statement as to wanting to know what The File consists of. But, I guess given the circumstances a lot of things are different. I mean I'm starting to have a crush on crazy, murderous, insane, intelligent, criminals, and at this moment I can't find myself to care.

"Ya, Bridge! I want to know what it is you want in a guy!" She said this excitedly but had a tinny worried tone in her voice.

I was a little wary for a minute but decided who better to know what I desire than my best friend? "Ok just promise no interruptions? And save your questions for the end?"

"I promise Bridge" She said

"Ok. The first thing is that he absolutely cannot be blonde. I don't know what it is but I really don't like blonde guys. He has to be taller than me, no exceptions. I don't like the plain brown color for his eyes they have to be green, blue, grey/silver, or hazel. He absolutely has to be smart, very smart. He has to be confident and want to take a dominant role in the relationship, yet he still has to let me be independent of myself. And above all he has to, has to be a guy that knows what he wants to do, knows what he is doing with his life, and knows who he wants to be with."

When I finish Megan is silent in her cell for a while before replying "Wow, you really have it all planned out don't you, Bridge" She laughed a little. "No wonder you haven't had many boyfriends."

"Ya, thats why. All other guys don't fit the profile" I sighed and thought 'From what I know right now Crane and Riddler fit almost all of the qualities.'

"Its kinda like you have a specific guy in mind with those qualities!" Megan said I could imagine her wide eyes as she was jumping to conclusions.

"No. Actually I don't ever since I started to look at guys differently in 6th or 7th grade I came up with The File. Ok, enough about me though, what's going on with you Megan?" I asked trying to quickly change the subject. I'd been feeling a little uncomfortable ever since Megan told me that I was beautiful.

"Oh, you know the usual. Trying to figure out what is going on around me, with only little success. I'd suck at psychology." The sound of a grin in her voice was unmistakable.

"Don't say that Megan! I know that if you put your mind to it you can do almost anything." I never liked how she always said that I was smarter than her. There were actually a few times that I think that she's the genius.

"Hmmm, I suppose so." She said doubtfully. I rolled my eyes at her, wishing I could burn a hole in the wall so that I could see her. "And quit rolling your eyes at me!" She exclaimed

I gasped dramatically "I'm not rolling my eyes!" I tried to say this with my 'Actor' voice but failed, cause I suck at stuff like that.

"I know you you're rolling your eyes."

"True, you do know me so well!" The conversation died then and silence filled the cells and hallway. This is a rare thing to happen between Megan and I we could keep a completely random conversation on for hours and never get bored with it. It went so show how much was going on in each of our minds, how we're changing only after two days here.

"Fine!" A voice said, a familiar one "Then bring them to one of the interrogation rooms! I need to speak with both of them now!"

"Sir, calm down. We'll take them but you need to head there now so that we can explain. They have no idea that you're here. One of the guards will take you there." Said a familiar female voice,

"You never even told them I was here! I have been here all day waiting for them because you said they were busy! And now, I figure out they don't even know of my presence!" The mans sounded really angry.

"Sir," said

"Fine, fine I'm going!"

I could hear heels clicking against the cold floor coming towards our cells. A guard appeared at my door, punched in the passcode, and came in to clamp my hands in cuffs. From Megans annoyed sigh I knew she was being cuffed too. We were lead out of our cells and faced towards .

She gave a polite smile to Megan and I, I looked to the side and scowled at the floor. I don't like this woman right now. "We are taking you two to interrogation room 3, your lawyer and the lead detective on your case are here to talk to you. From what I understand both of you know who the detective is."

Megan looked confused "I have no idea who it is."

"Oh," said "I figured that since Miss Paige found out it was her father that she would tell you."

Megan shot me a slightly hurt look barely detectible with her smiling face. "No, she never told me."

Guilt slammed down on me like a wrecking ball. "Must have slipped my mind." I said quietly, not used to the accusing tone in her voice.

"Well, now you know." turned around and started towards the door. "Lets take you there they only have an hour left."

We were at interrogation room 3 five minutes later; this place was huge. The guards ushered us in and closed the door behind us. I was met with the sight of my burly father standing uncomfortably in the corner and a man in a pressed suit going through papers that were stuffed into a briefcase that lay open on the table in front of him. The man in the suit looked up and my father was looking at us with an undecipherable expression.

"Please sit down, we need to discuss a few things." Suit man said. "We are pressed for time."

"If those idiots that work here had their heads screwed on straight, then we would have a lot more time." My dad put in face contorting for a second. Even with his intimidating exterior and his non-promising expression, I couldn't help the small feeling of relief at seeing him.

Megan and I went to sit down on the two bolted chairs in front of the suit guy. My father went to stand behind him arms crossed making the muscles in his forearms bulge, he was always one to keep the higher ground not matter the situation.

My father's eyes locked with mine "Bridgette."

"Dad" I replied. Swallowing tightly hoping that we hear some good news. I needed something good right now.

"Ok," Suit man said "We'll start with your court date..."

My dad interrupted him. "We'll start with where you are staying in here." His deep voice had a what I say goes tone.

"We're staying in the 'C wing'." I said not knowing how he was going to react. Or even why he wants to know that, I'm sure that it was in the news or the workers here have spread the news of where we are staying. 'Staying, makes it sound like a hotel' I thought.

I can still remember the day I met Bridgette's dad. It took me weeks to finally convince my overprotective mom that little first grader me was capable enough of having a playdate at her best friend's house. Weeks, to sell her on the idea of one hour at a family's house that she already knew. Finally, after mastering my puppy-dog eyes technique, I made my mom's adamant resolve crack. For the first time ever since the miscarriage, I was going over to a friend's house, instead of them coming to mine! Calling me happy wasn't good enough. Heck, saying that I was ecstatic didn't cover the absolute joy I felt!

Bridgette's house was gorgeous. It still is, I mean. Mom's hand was so tight around mine as she marched me up to that house, I could've sworn that the tips of my fingers were going purple. Attempts of her bribing me failed. She tried coaxing me with promises of going to the movies, getting some ice cream, or going ice-skating- all so that I would go back to the car. But none of that mattered and I dodged her attempts with gleeful ease. I was going to visit my best friend!

This wasn't anything special for Bridgette, really. Tons of friends have already visited her house before, I heard that she's even had a slumber party or two. And Her, well...She's been to Bridge's house dozens of times by the time I finally got the permission to to walk up on her front steps. But, none of it mattered. I was seeing her then and I couldn't be any more happy.

Her mom welcomed us at the door. She was polite and kind as usual, and her long hair was swept back into an elegant bun, framing her pretty face. I swear, her mom looked like the exact same as Bridgette, granted a little bit older. But she was drop-dead gorgeous. Or at least, before...

Mom grilled Bridgette's mother, even though she'd seen her at dozens of school organized events. Then mom had morphed into this all-too-intense high-wire version of herself, where she found it her obligated duty to find out every single detail of this house, down to where and when they bought the shingles. Perhaps it would've embarrassed me. Perhaps I would've even been a little annoyed, if it hadn't been for me looking to the side and catching a glimpse of Bridgette's dad.

It had been my first time meeting him, and take in mind that I've always envied Bridgette's parents. She had everything in perfect moderation: a dad who was more involved and a mother who was less overbearing. But when I first met him, I honestly wanted to pee in my pants.

Bridgette's dad is powerful. He's tall, strong, and sturdy; with the kind of courageous face you'd expect to see drawn on a painting of some epic battle. Everything about him radiates this kind of power and wisdom that isn't just something that happens everyday. He was...is amazing. Absolutely amazing. And I've always looked up to him, something that has nothing to do with his tall stature. Needless to say, I was terrified of someone as powerful as he seemed in the beginning. I could tell that he loved his wife and Bridgette with all the affection he could give, but something about his steely gaze snapped some animal instinct in me to be scared. And I was for a little, until the tragedy occurred. It was a terrible blow. And eventually, I began to see Bridgette's dad as more of a human than a god. It wasn't because any of his superior power suddenly diminished, but more like I just saw...a weaker side of him. And in that weakness, he was still strong. Over time, my fear disappeared as I became a regular guest in Bridgette's house, and her in mine. He became the father figure that my actual birth one was lacking in. I grew to love Mr. Paige, a man who I respected so much that I absolutely refused to call him anything but that.

But now...now in this humongous interrogation room, where a "mirror" concealed prying eyes staring at us, some of that old fear came back. I've seen Mr. Paige like this many times, where he's seen a case that he's determined to solve. There's this certain feeling about him then that tends to leave you in awe. He's amazing when he gets as motivated as this. But, it was another thing entirely when we were his case. This was a new perspective, an overwhelming angle that I have yet to see. So I couldn't help but flinch when he snapped his powerful gaze at Bridgette, staring in absolute bewilderment down at his daughter.

"You want to what?" he ridiculed.

I couldn't help but to gape at Bridgette also. Now I can be impulsive. Rash. Careless. I'm the kind who would happily dive in before first testing the waters. But what Bridgette just said was...insane.

Confused, I wrinkled my nose and echoed after Mr. Paige, "You want to what?"

My best friend met both of our horrified stares evenly, barely even blinking. "Megan and I are going to stay in the C Wing," she repeated calmly.

"What!?" Mr. Paige yelled and something inside me exploded then. It was a scream so loud, so powerful that I couldn't express it with sound.

A migraine suddenly sliced through my head and I curled my toes in on slippers, whimpering silently when- POP!

A light dramatically fizzled out in the corner, causing everyone to jump where they were and stare at the bar of darkness, warily watching for when it would consume us all. My heart wildly thundered for a moment in terror as I gawked at the dark corner, a wave of fear washing through me- Suddenly a cool fist closed in on me, relaxing me back into the steel spine of my seat. Again there was that eerily calm sensation rooting itself inside of me, one that wasn't induced by a fit of giggles. Lazily, I blinked over to Mr. Paige, speaking before I thought, "I want to stay in the C Wing also."

Mr. Paige snapped his attention away from the malfunctioned light and turned to stare at us in puzzlement. The man in the suit shivered and directly avoided look us in the eye. Running a tongue over his bottom lip, looked to the ground for a moment and sighed through pursed lips before looking back up at us tiredly. "And may I ask, why exactly do you two want to stay in that wretched place?"

A calm smile came onto my face as I met Mr. Paige happily in the eyes. The coldness was still there, biting at me with this strange fierceness, twisting around thoughts in my head. But it beat the terror that was coming over me earlier. I rarely experience an emotion like that. I don't know what would happen if I were to.

"Because daddy," Bridgette smoothly explained. "I think that it would be a waste of time for you to indulge your energy in getting us something as mundane as a new cell. That would hardly solve this situation we're in."

"It's time that would be better spent in investigating the case and trying to prove our innocence," I supplied also.

Mr. Paige warily blinked and focused his burning gaze on each of us individually, the intense stare lingering on each of us for a few seconds. For a moment that ball of ice inside my chest started to warm. Finally, he just closed his eyes and shook his head. Marching around the suit-clad man, he leaned his burly arms onto the table, fingers spread wide across the cool metal. Furrowing his eyebrows, he looked down at our reflection instead of into our eyes.

"Are you both positive that you want to stay in that wretched place? I could get you situated in a much better living environment, one that is more...suitable for you two. I could do that in an instant."

Bridgette determinedly swallowed. If there's one thing that she got from her dad, it would be a stubbornness. It's safe to say that a whole lot of it has rubbed off on me also. "We're positive," she nodded affirmatively.

Mr. Paige's shoulders tensed. Clenching his fists to where white knuckles bulged out of his tan skin, he raised his eyes to look at us. It was easy to assess that he wasn't pleased. "I don't think you know what you're saying. Bridgette," he moved his eyes over to me also, "Megan. What you two are doing is ridiculous. You're opting to remain with insane homicidal criminals, where you're no doubt treated like dirt, instead of a nicer place in Arkham."

Spoken from his lips, what we are doing did sound silly. Anything that comes from his mouth sounds eloquent, intelligent, and overall-right. Part of me wavered in my decision. But the coolness directed me to latch onto his last sentence, where he spoke this mind-boggling paradox. A nicer place in Arkham. Was there honestly such thing as that? It'd be like saying that there were townhouses for the regular citizen someplace in hell. Nice and Arkham didn't go hand in hand.

Swinging my legs back and forth, I couldn't help but smile. "We're confident in our decision sir," I spoke self-assuredly.

His eyes widened as they took me in. He honestly couldn't believe what his daughter and her best friend were doing. Something told me that his daughter and best friend would have the same shock later on. Breathing in through his nose, he abruptly straightened up. Running his hand through his pepper-colored hair, he spun on his heel and I could hear him mutter a string of curses. "Fine, fine. No getting through to you two."

Success tingled through me, as addictive as any drug out there. Winning an argument with Mr. Paige...this should go down in the record books! Not only that, but the history books!

Mr. Paige marched around the room, regaining his bearings before he tiredly turned back to us. "Okay...that aside, let's begin to work on your case." Sliding a slim silver voice recorder from his pocket, he placed it neatly on the table, turning it on with a press of his thumb. "Describe to me the day of the incident up to now."

Bridgette and I exchanged a look. Something of a nod passed between us and Bridgette looked back to her father.

"It started with both of our laptops blaring a notification..." she started. "It was an email from the University, telling us that their pipes bursts last night and repairs were to begin immediately that morning. All classes were cancelled so we had the day off..."

"...We decided to go roam Gotham," I filled in for her. "It was going to be a blast. I was talking Bridgette into going down to the hospital and donating some blood for a free donut, and then later on we could hopefully swing by a shoe sale, maybe go to a club after..."

Due to the limited time we had for the interview, not that much was said. Bridgette was just starting to describe us being hauled into Arkham, when a brassy knock at the door alerted us that it was time to go. We were saying our goodbyes to Mr. Paige when the strangest thing happened...he gave us a hug. Something about him seemed different when he pulled away to give a forlorn gaze at his daughter. She is the only one he has left, the last reminder that he has of the woman he was in love with. Without Bridgette, he's going to be alone. Instantly, I tore my gaze away, feeling as though I was witnessing something intimate and forbidden.

The guards marched us back to the cell, and with each and every step we took I could feel that ball of ice inside me melting into droplets of warm water. I felt as though I was under a layer of blankets when we finally came back, everything was so fuzzy, and I gratefully collapsed back into my cot. Everyone was back by then and we were welcomed with the ever so colorful greetings that came attached to this odd bunch. I barely managed to murmur a subdued hello before I went to sleep, crayon drawings spread about like flimsy little blankets.

Before blackness enveloped me, a strange inspiration made its way to my attention. Just as I was starting to slip away, my fingers were itching to draw a person singing in the rain, a girl whose face I've been desperately trying to forget...

I was sitting in my cell trying to figure out what had just come over me to tell my father to let us stay in the C wing. It was completely absurd! I could have gotten a one way ticket away from these crazies, and I completely ruined it! Then a nagging voice in the back of my head said; But then you wouldn't be around Riddler and Crane anymore. Not able to see where all of this with them will end up, they are two of the few that fit most of your wants. You want to be here and you can't deny it. You LIKE all of this, you crave it. I shook my head and with a sinking feeling I knew that that was completely right. I don't want to leave the C wing, unless I can get out of Arkham completely and I don't see that in the near future. I sighed and rubbed my temples and lay on my bed hoping to get some sleep before the next meal.

With a small gasp of realization I realized that I've hardly eaten a bite of food (If it can even be called that) since I arrived here. "Maybe I can choke my way through a few bites so that I at least don't die of starvation." I whispered to myself before I let the sweet relief of sleep claim me.

"Dad!" I called skipping down the stairs quickly I reached the bottom and saw my dad with his head sticking in the fridge. "I'm going out, I'm going to pick Megan from her house and we are going to go hangout with Emily." I snatched my keys from the kitchen island where I dumped them earlier.

"Did you ever think that I might not let you go?" He asked and came out of the fridge with a glass of water and a large sandwich.

"Oh come on dad, please." I said leaning over the counter and giving him a pleading look. "I haven't seen either of them in the last two days!"

"Alright, fine. But, make sure that you bring your pepper spray and that taser I got you for christmas." He gave me a stern look. When I gave the pleading look he caved instantly, unless the situation was serious.

"The taser?" I groaned "Isn't the pepper spray enough?"

"If you don't bring the taser then you can't go. And no, pepper spray is not enough, especially in Gotham. I'd give you a gun if I could." He took a larger bite out of his sandwich, looking at me with his steely eyes.

"Ok, ok fine. I'll take the taser." I reluctantly agreed, grabbing my purse and taking the taser out of one of the drawers in the kitchen. "Bye, dad. See you later."

"Bridgette, be careful ok? I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you." He looked at me and his face showed the rare tenderness that he usually keeps inside.

"I will, dad. I always do, you taught me to be almost as paranoid as you."

"Better paranoid than dead in an alley." He grumbled

"Thanks dad. Great note to leave on." I rolled my eyes and slipped out of the door and into my black Ford with the windows tinted as much as was legal. I pulled out of the driveway and sped towards Megan's house, making sure to slow down when I was possible to be seen coming down the road. Megan's mother was so protective that if she saw how I really drove Megan would be banned from ever being in a car with me.

I drove up and honked the horn twice to signal that I was there. Megan came rushing out of the house with her bag trailing after her and her black heeled boots pounding the pavement. She wore dark wash jeans tucked into the boots and a stylish embroidered brown shirt to match her cute vintage bag. She slid into the car and as soon as the door slammed I drove away from her house.

Megan took in my outfit and said "Geez, its like 10 degrees out there and you're wearing that? I'm surprised didn't send you back to your room to change."

"Ya, so am I," I replied speeding up because we were out of her neighborhood weaving my black car around all the cars that were too slow. I was wearing well worn light colored jean shorts that came just above mid-thigh (One of my longer pair. It is cold outside) my favorite pair of black ankle boots, and a long sleeved loose black shirt with a silk tie to accent my waist and a scooped neckline.

"So, what have you been up to these last two lovely Gotham days?" Megan asked holding onto her seat for dear life. She hated the way I drove, always telling me she was surprised that we were still alive or not in jail.

"Oh, you know the usual. Helping the GCPD try and stop the endless crime that festers everywhere." I said off handedly. I gave some of my developing skills a use by helping the police with whatever was needed at the time. Filing, examining evidence, to even getting everyone donuts.

"Yep, typical." Megan told me with a smile. "How could I have figured that you were doing anything else?"

I don't know." I said with a wondering look. "And I suppose you were taking your coffee getting and occasionally writing a small article internship to the next level?"

"You know it!" She said brightly. After she said those words I slid into a tight spot outside of the building that Emily lived in, effectively cutting off another car that was trying to get into the spot as well. Megan gave me 'the look'

"What!?" I asked "If I didn't do it it would have taken forever to find another spot that is not at least a mile from here." Megan sighed but got out of the car.

We went to the door and buzzed Emily's apartment, she has her own but it was right across from her parents apartment. The door buzzed open after her staticy voice called out "Its open! I'm in the middle of a shower so I won't be out for a few minutes!"

I took the stairs two at a time to hurry to her apartment. Even in buildings here it was dangerous, I burst into the door and was met with the sounds of the Gotham news. It was covering a story about two big time criminals that were caught robbing one of Gotham's larger banks, and how it was so rare that two were found working together.

Megan burst in seconds later, slamming the door behind her and giving me a pout. "You don't have to run!" She exclaimed

"I wasn't running!" I protested "I was speed walking"

"It was running" She grumbled and went to Emily's kitchen to get a glass of water.

I sat at the couch in front of the TV and payed attention to the screen; "The two criminals caught today were the notorious Scarecrow and Riddler, otherwise known and Jonathan Crane and Edward Nygma. They were using their combined knowledge of the bank to break into the vault and steal the money hidden inside. But, before they could make off with the money Batman and Robin stopped them, foiling their plot."

"Dang," I said over the sound of the running shower and the continuing report "If I ever saw any good looking criminals it's those two."

Megan plopped down beside me and gave me a perplexed look with a gentle swat on the arm. "Those two are murderers and thieves! You hardly think anyone is good looking, and now you're saying how hot they are. You need help in the guy department." She said the last sentence with extreme seriousness that she rarely has.

In the background the shower shut off and we waited a few minutes and the door opened to reveal Emily and right away she said. "There are some things that I need to talk to you guys about." She looked dead serious and a tad bit nervous.

I woke up breathing heavily and the sound of crackling was heard and the smell of burning fabric reached my nose. I sat up quickly and batted out the small flame that started where my hand previously was. How did that happen!?

"Alright prisoners you know the drill let's go, you all know what time it is so lets get this over with. I want to get home early, so hop to it!" The now familiar yell of one of the guards said cutting through my thoughts of trying to figure out how a small fire had started on my blanket.

The shouting had pierced through my sleepy fog and I sat up on my bed groggily. Sleep weighed down my eyes and I blinked around my cell drearily. The smell of smoke made it's way to my nose and I cringed. Oh please tell me that this was a sleep-induced delusion. The smell of smoke has always been unpleasant to me. Unless it was the wonderful aroma of wood burning, I disliked it. Birthday parties have always had a slight twinge of unhappiness, because as soon as I blew out the candles strong grey smoke was set free to swirl around the room. I'd have to wrinkle my nose and pretend to be happy while everyone breaks out in applause. Putting on a fake smile is natural to me, so at least the discomfort isn't too bad. Don't even get me started on cigarettes, though...

There was a loud beep and my cell door swung open. Sleepily, my eyes roved over to see Goldilocks standing there. Automatically the memory of Bridgette's "File" filled my head and a slight giggle slipped out of my lips. "Whaz goin' on?" I slurred.

His silver eyes blinked and he shot a glance back into the white hallway. "The smoke detectors picked up a fire," he answered me disinterestedly. Same as earlier, he seemed dreadfully tired. At least I could sympathize with him on that level.

"Awl righty then," I drawled and swung my legs over. "Next time though," I yawned, "could you please press the snooze button?"

Tiredly I sashayed out of my cell, running a hand through my rustled hair.

"Wait a sec," he placed a hand on my shoulder, spinning me around. On one finger hung a pair of silver handcuffs, and he blinked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Aw," I pouted with a roll of my eyes. "Honestly, I'm not going to escape or try anything. I'm exhausted. This is a double espresso kind of tired."

Something seemed to flicker in him then. "I know..." he said slowly. At that something tightened in him again. "It's policy though." And before I knew it, once again chains binding my wrists together.

Redness was starting to encircle my wrists where the jumpsuit didn't cover my skin. Faintly, I could feel a pain where my skin was going raw. Quietly I sighed and looked to the side, honestly annoyed, when there was a shout.

"Hey, get your hands off of me!" Bridgette shouted and I gasped just as she was being shoved out her cell. Her body went flying across the hallway and was slammed helplessly into a wall, where she painfully slid down with a groan. Before I could so much as scream, a humongous guard came out barrelling after her like a freight train. Just as she was starting to lift up her head, a large meaty hand clasped some of her long hair and slammed her face into the ground.

That cut it.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" I screeched and tore after the guard. My hands were awkwardly clasped in front of me, but I displayed them like brutal weapons. I've never fought anyone before, but the rage and the passion was so strong inside of me that it hardly mattered. I was going to rip that guard's eyes out and serve it to him as breakfast, then-

Suddenly there was a hand on my arm and I was thrown to the side, slammed against a wall. "Let go of me!" I bellowed, but arms pressed me against me firmly, restricting my movements.

"Don't do anything you'd regret," Goldilocks advised and by the tone of his voice, it was obvious that he really thought he was helping me out.

Ugh, could people be any more ignorant!? This loser was definitely going to get a big helping of a la mode eyeballs for breakfast tomorrow!

Screaming out infuriated complaints, I squirmed around painfully, managing to turn my head to my right cheek and watch my best friend helplessly. The disgusting guard got down low and pressed one of his knees against her spine, twisting back her arms at an almost impossible angle to cuff them. I could see Bridgette's face, twisted, as she kept herself from crying out in pain.

The fury was so strong, so passionate, that my teeth started to chatter. How dare they do this to her!? She didn't deserve it! Not only was she thrown to rot in rathole like this, but now they were...assaulting her! UGH, don't they see that there are more pressing criminals to be dealing with here!? People who actually deserve this torment?

"Let. Me. Go," I seethed furiously, not able to tear my eyes away from poor Bridgette.

"Not yet," the guard quietly whispered and then more loudly announced, "Hey Joe, what's going on here?"

"I came in her cell to get her out for the drill, only to find that her blanket was on fire," Joe growled and yanked Bridgette up to stand.

"So that automatically justifies you hurling her around like a rag doll!?" I screamed at him, although I was honestly shocked. A fire...in Bridgette's cell? I honestly didn't know what to think of that, it must've been so terrifying for her to wake up to it though. Poor Bridge, I thought to myself, mourning from the drama she's just recently endured.

Mr. Enormous Handsy Man flashed his eyes over to me to give me an acidic glare. I glowered back at him, wishing that my eyes could be lasers that bored into his thick-headed skull. The freak. The monster. He has serious anger management issues and he finds himself to be worthy, walking down the halls freely, whistling as he swung a baton in his hand!?

"I'm 'hurling her around like a rag doll' because she obviously set the fire. She intended to start this drill," he snapped angrily.

"Oh my God, so you're accusing her of being a pyromaniac?" I barked at him. "You idiot! You can't grasp the freak that you see anytime you look in a mirror, so you decide to try and find it in others! If you really want to see someone who deserves this, just let me at you and I'll-"

Goldilocks dug an elbow into me, cueing my overactive mouth that it was time to shut up. Ugh, this was just so exasperating! I was fixing to ignore Mr. Prince Charming here and go on grilling the monster guard when Bridgette made a violent shake of her head. Don't, she mouthed.

There it was: the parade of my revenge, suddenly cut off in the middle of it's furious march.

The rolling ball of fury halted in my head and I clamped my mouth shut into a thin line. Angrily I panted and glared at the floor, hating this, hating everything, when it suddenly clicked. I started shaking. Wait a second...I've never felt this angry before in my life. Ever. Not when Billy Benson went around telling everyone that I was dating him, an immature act that didn't belong in the eighth grade. Not when some nastily jealous people spread around a terrible rumor about Cam, almost making it impossible for him to graduate. Not when She went selfishly went prancing around, corroding everything that I once held dear, leaving so suddenly that I felt the most empty I ever have in my life. But not only was this anger...rage so fiercely strong, but I felt violent with it too. Like I wanted to not only kill the guard but draw out his torture in a gruesome fashion, revel in his screams, all for the sake of him daring to lay a hand on my friend. In a second I became...murderous. Graphic images were still flitting around through my head, tainted with blood, quivering with enragement.

Oh my gosh... I blinked in absolute horror. What am I becoming?

A wave of disgust washed through me and I felt... I didn't even know what I was feeling. What Joe did was terrible, awful. He's an absolutely despicable human being and this new hatred that I know possesed was directed solely onto him. But...but what I was thinking was...even more terrifying. It was as if I wasn't myself.

Goldilocks seemed to sense my shock and his arms loosened. Loudly he announced, "Okay. I see your point." My shoulders stiffened as more waves of anger pummelled through me. Shuddering, I closed my eyes and bit down on my lower lip until I could taste blood. Usually the taste of rusty metal on my tongue was revolting, but this was what I wanted, wasn't it? I was only getting what I sadistically craved. "But can't you let her go now? Was there even anything in there that she could've used to set the fire?"

Tenseness stiffened the air as Joe considered this. "No, but it had to be-"

"I just searched her room," a new voice announced and I opened my eyes to see a new guard exit from Bridgette's cell. "There was nothing in there that could've possibly started the fire."

My body loosened in relief. I knew that she wasn't guilty, I just knew it. I could feel it in my bones. Shakily, I smiled, trying to hide the pain of witnessing the guard attack Bridge.

"Oh so what?" Joe quipped. "Are you suggesting that there was just a spontaneous combustion?"

New guard shrugged in nonchalance, honestly seeming the slightest bit bored with the whole ordeal. "Stranger things have happened here."

Joe's black eyes widened as he heard that. Angrily, he threw his gaze to the side and embarrassment flanked his face. Anger still tensed every visible muscle in his body, but know it was no longer justified. He had just needlessly raged on an innocent young girl, and the disturbing truth must be settling in.

"Fine," he said thickly under his breath. "But all of you," he wheeled his attention to all of us, moving a roving finger to each of our unblinking heads, "are now on probation. Until we get to the bottom of this, there's no Rec time, no going outside, and no showers. You'll shuffle your miserable selves out of your cells, straight to the cafeteria, and straight back. Understood?"

My jaw tensed as I slowly nodded. The rest of the Rogues blinked back at him with stoic expressions, the most emotions they showed was wrinkling their noses or furrowing their eyebrows. They weren't pleased with this either. Definitely weren't going to take this well.

"But, uh, Joe," Joker raised his hand with a wicked grin spreading on his face. "What if we need to take care of some business?" He darkly chuckled.

Joe's eyes widened and the right corner of his upper lips twitched. "That's it," he snapped. "I'm done with the C-Wingers!" With a contorted face, he marched off through the hallway, everything shaking in his wake.

"We'll uh miss you Joe!" Joker chortled and waved him off. With an innocent expression, he turned to Harley and shrugged. "I was only asking if I could to the restroom. Can't imagine how he'd react to the actual business I'd usually conduct!"

The tenseness in Harley's face dissolved and she let out a giggle. "Aw, don't take it so personally puddin'! He must be havin' some problems at home."

"It's a shame. Never your personal life affect business, I say!" Joker responded merrily.

Everyone else stared after the rampaging Joe for a moment until his large figure finally rounded around a white corner and disappeared. Part of me visibly relaxed and I let out a sigh of relief, all the murderous urges leaving me in one breath. Good...that was close. I was actually beginning to think that I belonged here.

The guards calmed everyone down and ushered them back to the orderly line, trying to sustain some normalcy in the recently developed chaos. Bridgette though stood in the middle of the hallway, blankly staring off in the distance, her expression far away. Something unrecognizable flickered across her face for the slightest second, before she frowned and shuffled off to follow the others. Guess it was my cue. Loosening my fingers, I started to take a step towards them but was suddenly stopped when I was still held back by arms.

"Um..." I said quietly. "You can let go now Goldilocks."

A blush consumed his face and he stepped back immediately. Running his hand through his hair, he looked away from me. "Ah...sorry," he apologized awkwardly.

I blinked up after him for a moment, part of me vaguely amused before I soon found myself bored with his face. Sighing slightly, I turned around and made my way over to Bridgette, creating a spot next to her.

I was totally clueless on what to say. And that's so absolutely rare for me. But I mean, what do you tell your friend after they've been attacked? What words could soothe over that drama? How could you assure them that nothing would ever happen like that again when you yourself were worried?

Bridgette started down at her toes, as silent as a mute. I watched her brokenly, barely recognizing my best friend. Running a tongue over my bottom lip, I softly nudged her. "Hey," I whispered quietly. She ignored me, hazel eyes downcast. Everything about her was completely unreadable, I was unsure on what to do. She was just a blank, white page and I was the person left with trying to read the story's inscribed on it. "Bridge," I told her softly, throwing out her nickname like it was a lifeline. Taking the bait, she softly exhaled and slowly rolled her eyes up to look at me. In her eyes I could see the pain, the humiliation, all the course emotions running through her head from what she'd just been through. Pain ricocheted through my heart, yet another emotion that I rarely allow myself to have. My poor best friend... A surge of defensiveness rushed through me as I desperately ached to throw an arm around her, pull her in for a hug. I had failed to protect her... Voice cracking, I shook my head with a hoarse voice and said, "I'm so sorry."

It was lame. It was pathetic. After what Bridgette had just gone through, words as measly as that wasn't going to help her out. But nothing else came to mind. I was truly sorry for her.

Bridgette took me in and I could tell those gears of hers was spinning wildly around in her head, regardless of how numb she was trying to make herself be. After a few seconds of silence, she quietly replied, "I know," and looked back down to her feet, "me too."

Thousands of sentences sprinted through my head, and I severely wanted to say something else. It was my job to make her smile. It was a skill that I usually easily possessed. But now, all that I could do, was reach out and squeeze her fingers with mine. Something seemed to flicker in her then from the kind touch, but it was quickly extinguished. I feel like I've lost her.

Something was called out and before I knew it, the line was moving. Barely looking at me, Bridgette slipped her fingers out of mine and trudged away, leaving me to stare unclearly at her back. My bottom lip trembled and I started down a the ground, warding away the tears that I actually refused to shed nestled down at the pit of my stomach. I will not cry. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry. Because that would be myself admitting that things were bad, it would be accepting the horror. And I absolutely would not do that.

Gratefully the hand of salvation reached out to me and scooped me up in its loving arms. A giggle rose up from inside me, spilling out of my lips chaotically. Soon my laughing crescendoed and caused people to stop and look back at me in wonder, unbelief etched in their wide eyes.

But I didn't care at all. Throwing my head back, I laughed at the cold ceiling, feeling for the moment as though I was rising up when the truth was that I was sinking even further down...

A flood. It's something that's tragic, something that's devastating. It could wipe everything clean with it's roaring waters, washing everything away in a horrified instant. But devastations like this don't happen with an automatic downpour. No, the heavens don't release their waters all at once, shedding their tears in a solid sheet of devastating rain.

Instead, it all starts with just the slightest trickle...