A/N: Sorry about this late update. I had some big assessments at school last week, needed to focus. I've tried to make this chapter revolve a lot more around Warren and Shirley, hopefully you will enjoy. Thank you to my few reviewers, you keep me motivated. To my readers, thanks for reading. It's really cool to see in the traffic for this story where all the hits and visitors are coming from! Thanks Monkey. Read and Review.

No one found the line? Tut-tut. This was the line:

"Dr. Gibbs, any criminal that comes here, is meant to be here, whether they are a murderer, rapist or neither."

Disclaimer: DC Universe, belongs to, surprisingly, DC.

If Shirley had a favourite patient, it would be Mrs. Jane Thomson. Favourite though, was perhaps not the best word to use. Tolerable? Yes, but still not the right word. Shirley couldn't put her finger on it. Mrs. Thomson was the only other patient, besides from Mr. Walker, that was not a murderer or rapist. Also, she was eighty-five. The woman, whilst sweet and endearing, was completely insane. Her crimes were in most peoples' views, strange. To put it simply, she made incriminating patch worked quilts, with visual or sometimes worded messages, directed usually at liars or cheaters. It had become quite clear and quite quickly that she was an old-fashioned woman who valued the sacredness of marriage and honesty highly. These quilts would usually be placed on the bed, tucked in neatly. In the last few years (she had been a hard bugger to be found by the police), she had taken to using animal blood in her crimes. Then she'd taken to using human blood. And right now, their interview was drawing to a close.

"Dear-" Mrs. Thomson started, with a soft, motherly voice.

"Dr. Gibbs," Shirley corrected her, scribbling down notes, as usual.

"Dear Dr. Gibbs, would you be a sweet pie and get me my sewing set? I'm afraid I've left it at home."

"Mrs. Thomson, we have discussed this, your sewing set is gone."

"Now who would steal it?"

"Mrs. Thomson, please answer my question."

"A pushy one aren't you? Well no matter. Quilting has always been a joy of mine. You know I've been lucky to win many awards in my time!" It was a challenge for Shirley to keep Mrs. Thomson on topic, she rattled on so much. Sometimes it was hard to imagine the crimes she had committed. She was as sweet, if not sweeter than Shirley's own grandmother on her father's side. But what did a murderer look like?

"Mrs. Thomson, I'll be seeing you next week."

"Have a good day now dear won't you? I'd hate for something to happen to you." The old woman went off in to some other topic, not really talking to anyone in particular. Well talk at people. Moving over to her desk she placed Mrs. Thomson's file and notepad in her 'to sort' container. It didn't stay full for long. Sighing, she realized that she was in need of another cup of coffee. She'd tried to see if she could buy a small coffee maker in to her office but the human resources and safety department said it would be far too much of a hazard. Groaning quietly, she knew that she'd have to go to the staffroom. She needed her cup of coffee before doing White's interview.

Trailing in to the staffroom, she tried to be as invisible as humanly possible. It was and would best if she kept her encounters with Dr. Quinnzel to a minimum. The same could also be said for Dickens, Greg. When he was on his breaks, he actually went looking for her. Not just if he saw her in the corridors or staffroom, but looking. Luckily the majority of the time his break would be over before he found her. This meant that her office was a danger zone. Same for the staffroom. She had to be creative. But right now, she was being quite predictable.

"Dr. Gibbs!" Right on cue.

"Dickens."

"I was just walking past and I saw you! Small world eh?" He smiled, like she was giving him Goddamn lollies! It was sickening how positively happy he got in her presence. She didn't want to fathom why.

"Considering that we have the same breaks, not really," came Shirley's cold and short reply. She turned her back to him as she filled her mug up from the coffee machine.

"I'd still say that's pretty lucky!" He's an idiot, she groaned mentally.

"Dickens, aren't you meant to be with Mr. White right now?" She sighed, stirring some milk in to her mug. Dickens wasn't fazed.

"Yeah, only in like five minutes. Anyway-"

"Dickens I have to get back to my office and prepare for the interview."

"Oh yeah, I guess I should go to White then…" He trailed off, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his guard jacket. She merely nodded and left him there.

The walk back to her office was peaceful, peaceful for an asylum. In the first few weeks of working at the asylum, Shirley had had long periods of time where she would be starved of work. She'd walk around each facility, the edifices, memorizing the intricate paths in to her mind. Thinking about White, she got that nauseous feeling in her abdomen again. Unknown to Shirley, Dr. Quinnzel was running to get to her appointment with the Joker, which she would be late for in approximately twenty minutes. Neither were paying attention to their surroundings. Dr. Quinnzel slammed in to the oblivious Shirley, both crashed to the floor amongst fluttering sheets of paper. Shirley jumped up, as quickly as she could though she wasn't nearly as fit as the gymnast on the floor grabbing her papers roughly. Shirley groaned, now she was dizzy and slightly nauseous. All before White's interview. Quinnzel didn't even drop an apology before she went bolting off again. Rubbing her hip, Shirley's eye caught a few stray pieces of paper on the floor. Quinnzel must have left them behind in her hast. Bending down carefully she picked them up and nearly dropped them. One had a drawing of the Joker, not with any great skill and the other sheet was blank.

The picture itself was most disturbing in the manner it had been drawn. The lines were sketchy but worked. The drawing was a portrait; nothing overall distinguished about it, spare the subject being Joker. Shirley couldn't get over how worked it was. It could have taken the duration of an entire interview to start, let alone to do the shading. Art classes at high school had been interesting enough for Shirley. The history rather had been more interesting then the practical work. At any rate she had still learnt enough of the basics of the popular mediums. Running her fingers over the lines of the clown's face she shuddered. Quinnzel had been working on this, working on this in her own time. Sighing, she had almost forgotten that she had an interview. Almost.

Walking as fast as she could, Shirley made her way to her office. Naturally, Dickens was already there. He smiled and went to say hello but Shirley just pushed past him. Opening the door, Shirley went in. Professionally. She hoped. Sitting herself down on her chair, folding her left leg over her right thigh and went to get White's notebook. Damn! She yelled mentally, the notebook was on her desk. Looking up at White he was smiling, creepier than usual.

"Why Shirley, you scarcely cross your left leg over your right thigh," He remarked, his gaze directed at her eyes.

"Dr. Gibbs. Why would you say that Mr. White?"

"Well, you only cross your left leg over her right when you are nervous," He finished darkly. For a moment she couldn't say a word, couldn't think; she was in oblivion. Snapping out of her trance she walked over to her desk, ignoring what White had said. How could she respond? She was meant to be making observations like that about White! But there he was, observing her. Walker would be better! He didn't keep such a fastidious eye on her. Grabbing White's notebook off her desk she sat back down in her chair and looked back up at White. She crossed neither of her legs.

"Mr. White-"

"Call me Warren, I insist." The last word came out like a hiss, not in a malicious manner though.

"Mr. White, I would as-"

"You're such a polite one, Shirley-" God, why did he have to say her name like that? She didn't, couldn't cower in front of him but she be damned if she couldn't internally. How Quinnzel could sit there and draw the Joker was beyond her. Who wanted to relive interviews like this?

"Mr. White, it's Dr. Gibbs. Now, before the end of our last session you failed to answer a question."

"I wouldn't say that Gibbs darling, it was just incidental that the interview came to an end just when you asked me."

"Would you enlighten me on what I asked you," Shirley asked officiously, trying to annoy White. She had no such luck.

"Of course, how could I deny you? You asked me why I chose the insanity plea." He replied in a falsely charming voice, appearing to be a punctilious patient. Deceiving bastard. She wasn't stupid, unlike Quinnzel.

"Yes. It would have seemed that you were oblivious to Arkham's reputation. After arriving here, what was your initial reaction?" Shirley wasn't sure if this was a sensitive area or not. She had come down to two views, or feelings that White would have on the subject. One would be pure animosity towards her for asking a question and the other would be, well, humour. He would re-tell the events as if it was one big comical story.

"Initially, fear. But hey, everyone is uneasy in a new environment, are they not? I mean, look at me now!"

"Yes, you would appear to be at ease," She replied awkwardly.

"But look at you, the new fish, eventually you should be fine." Should be? She would be. God, she had to be.

"This fear you had-"

"Gibbs, you can't honestly tell me that Arkham is a walk in the park. I'd be crazy if it didn't strike some fear in me."

"That much would be expected. Arkham would scare you, you were vulnerable-"

"It had nothing to do with me being vulnerable!" He snapped. A silent pause followed, both people were shocked. Shirley smiled deviously and scribbled done countless notes, even some diagrams. White, for the first time had exhibited some form of vulnerability. And Shirley would be damned if she wasn't going to exploit that fact.

"I've read that you had much difficulty fitting in, what do you feel was the cause of this?" Shirley for the first time in weeks had got a lead on White. Something to use against him, make him crack. She wasn't up for the bullshit the doctors put out in the media about these maniac villains getting the best medical attention. They were hardened, insane criminals. You needed to be hard with to show your worth, otherwise they'd use you like a puppet. And Shirley was not going to be a puppet; no way in hell. She wished that her fire were that strong but in honesty, White still scared her. Thankfully though, with this new knowledge she would finally have some kind of leverage against him.

"Wouldn't it be obvious, doctor?"

"To myself, obviously. But we are not here to converse about what I know." Imperative

"Fair point Shirley, nevertheless I would still love to hear what you think," He smiled and leaned back in to his chair. His physique was something that she had tried to avoid. Just looking at the mere transmogrify between Warren White to the Great White was chilling enough. His personality devious and controlling, as was his stance. Thus this was why she focused on his face. was

"Mr. White, I have asked you a question. To further my knowledge and understanding I need you to elaborate," She hadn't meant to sound so venomous. She had no trouble being professional with all her patients; she didn't need to think about it. With White she had to constantly remind herself not to lash out at him. For the first time, he rolled his eyes. Oh the small things, she chuckled mentally.

"Had a company, embezzled money from pensioners, got a few people hit up and landed myself here," He rushed with a bored tone, looking away from Shirley.

"That is all very well and done Mr. White, but yet again you have failed to answer my question."

"And I'm afraid doctor that you really are getting too talkative," He said, not in the usual, annoyingly charming, smooth-talk voice. She wanted to give herself a little cheer; she'd hit a nerve.

"Mr. White maybe it would be a good time to-"

"It's not a good time Shirley, not a good time at all," He hissed, his head snapping to Shirley's direction.

"Mr. White your obduracy is making this difficult."

"Obduracy? Now there's a word you don't hear often."

"Maybe it would be better, I think I'll call-'

"Could we discuss another topic?" He looked back to her. Shirley really wanted to continue to ask him about his early experiences at Arkham; his vulnerabilities.

"Very well. What would you think a sufficient topic?"

"One of the lovely old clichés. My childhood, you never did dive too deep in to that. Or perhaps a tale about one of my lovers."

"One of your lovers?" Romance was something that Shirley was not good at. She understood the science of it, what people supposedly felt for each other, in a quite removed manner though. Love honestly was a rare thing in the world, a fact that Shirley was happy with. Over the years when she had been at college, she dated two guys. Never went anywhere. For some odd reason, they had both wanted more of an 'emotional' factor in the relationship. Apparently just sleeping with them hadn't been enough. After those two failed relationships, college became everything, more than it had been before.

"I've had many of them," he replied slowly

"Both genders?"

"Just the ladies Dr. Gibbs," he replied with a lusty smile and his gaze running over her seated figure. Shirley shifted uncomfortably in the chair, not at all pleased with the progress of this interview. He leaned forward in his seat and moved his arms to rest loosely on his knees. The whole situation had changed. Within a scarce amount of time the control, 'upper hand' had switched from Shirley to White once more.

"Are you still in a relationship Mr. White?" He looked at her with a lusty gaze again.

"Was, but she ran off to the arms of Bruce Wayne, that playboy, C.E.O. of –"

"Yes Mr. White, I am quite aware of his identity. Now what was her name?" Shirley cut in, not caring to hear about some playboy idiot.

"Jealous are we?"

"Hardly, I just want to know who we are talking about."

"It's nice to know you care." Shirley wanted to make a sharp comeback but she also wanted to remain calm and in control. Waiting for him to continue, she fiddled idly with her pen. "Raven Clawson, that was her name. Always sounded like a courtesan's name to me, what do you think?"

"My opinion has no importance on such a topic, but I thank you for the name," She replied duly, scribbling down the name. Mentally, she did for once agree with White.

"Pleasure." And yet again, the interview proved to being a raving success. For another half hour Shirley got to listen to White tell her about the tales of his lovers. It was painful. At that moment, for one moment, Shirley believed in God. Why? Because only God could think of such a cruel torture.

When it came high time for White to be collected, she practically thrust White at Greg. Rubbing her face she groaned. It would be long day, she just knew it would.


Bouncing on the spot, Shirley fiddled with her keys at the front door of her apartment. Blast the coffee! She yelled in her head. The coffee had not done its job and aided her with White's interview. Now the useless coffee had come back. Finally opening the door, she ran in, dropping her bags and ran to the toilet. After finally being relieved (traffic is never good after 5 pm) she had a quick shower and dressed in to some comfy, baggy pajamas.

After reviewing her notes from White's interview one of her patients had thrown a fit in the food court and demanded that he see justice from the jellyfish queen, at once! Suffice to say it had taken a lot longer to convince him that no, there were no yellow ducks coming. To this he continually replied that of course they weren't coming, not today. Finally he gave some sign of obeisance to the jellyfish queen, to Shirley. Never in her life did she think that she would hear such things. Now though, she was returning to the world of the sane. Tonight she had decided that she would catch up on some much-missed reading. The crime book that she been reading on and off for the last few weeks by Thomas Harris, which itself was odd. His words had somehow lost its hold on her, but she knew that King was there to save the day. Walking over to her computer she caught up on the latest headlines. Sometimes she had to remind herself that no, these headlines were not from an awful story off the Internet, that yes they were actually real. Looking through her RSS feed updates and finally her e-mail for any notifications about the World War II history books she had ordered, sadly she was met with none. Only another e-mail from Gotham City College. Surprising even herself, she opened it.

Another bloody open night. This time it was the astronomy night.

Shirley loved many subjects and areas of study, but astronomy was definitely not one of them. It was showcasing some of the high achieving PhD students. Rolling her eyes she deleted the e-mail; her life was far too important to her for it be wasted at such an event. Seating herself on her couch, she read some good old Stephen King, Four Past Midnight. He never failed to pull her in. Hours later, the phone rang. Shirley jumped from her spot on the couch and grasped the phone. Shakily she answered, her anti-social manner settling in.

"Hello," She said with the no inflection at the end.

"Darling! Guess what I've just gotten in the mail," Her mother's cheery voice rang out, rattling Shirley's eardrums.

"The bills."

"No, no, my subscription to Gotham City College magazine!" Her mother chatted back.

"Why did you even sign up for that useless thing? You know they only talk to those young doctors who don't know a thing about the human physiology, not to mention those artists with pathetic excuses for artworks," Shirley ground back, instantly annoyed at the thought of those artists.

"Honey, Jonathon was a good man and you let him go with your insufferable anti-social behaviour. He is a great artist with beautiful paintings."

"Mum, children paint better than he does. Screw the concept and ideas behind his works."

"Stop that! Now listen to me," Her high voice scolded.

"I'm still on the phone aren't I?"

Ignoring her daughter's rude replies she continued. "There is an astronomy night coming up and I instantly thought of you. I know you like that stuff so I thought, we should go together! What do you say?"

"What about Dad?" If she was going to go such an abomination, she wanted her Dad there.

"You know your father is in no condition."

"He just needs to get out, staying in that house can lead to-"Shirley went to say but was again cut off by her mother.

"No examining your father like one of your patients! I will not have it!" Her mother shrieked, sounding like she was on the verge of hysterics. "Now will you let me continue?" She breathed, calming herself.

"Go on."

"I thought that you and I could do some catching up and this event is just the place. What do you saying darling?"

"When is it?" She sighed; her mother would eventually get her way.

"Next Friday night, starting at six! I'll see you at the entrance all right? Good, love you!" Before Shirley could decline, the line was dead. Deep down, Shirley knew that her mother meant the best. She was an idiot sometimes though, these being one of those times. Wistfully she placed the phone back down on the hook and dragged herself back to the couch. Hopefully King's words could relieve her of the begrudging events coming up in the next week.