We're All Mad Here - Part 7

Tim stopped heaving over the toilet and with trembling hands dropped the lid with a clatter. She leaned against it for a moment before slumping forward to flush away the evidence of her turmoil.

She hadn't been able to keep anything down since it had happened. Guilt gnawed at her, turning her stomach and making it almost impossible for her to keep anything in her. Even the plain porridge - nothing but oats and water (recommended by Ducky when he had noticed her lack of color and aversion to food) - had bounced straight back up, burning her throat the whole way.

She had killed a man. And not in self-defense. She could live with that. She was sure she could. But this was different…

Leaning against the toilet lid she climbed to her feet, her limbs shivering as though her thermostat wasn't as high as it could go. Her teeth chittering slightly until she clenched her jaw.

The phone begin to ring as she reached to turn the bathroom light off. She paused for a second and looked towards her flashing handset as she flicked the light switch.

She didn't want to talk to anyone. She hadn't wanted to talk to anyone since it had happened. So, instead of heading for her phone she went to her bedroom and slumped onto her mattress, curling in on herself.

She concentrated on her breathing as the phone continued to ring. They would give up soon enough and then it would just be her in the silent apartment. Her and her guilt. Her self doubt.

There had been a gun. Hadn't there?

Her answering machine clicked on. Expecting it to be a sales call she was surprised as she listened to her full 'You have reached-' message and a long beep sounded.

"Pick up now!" she recognized the voice - it was hard not to, "Three days and you have everyone in a tizzy. I mean it. Pick up or I am calling your work. Some sexy red head head isn't it. Weed-lady will be jealous. I wonder what she would think of m-"

Tim staggered from her bed before her caller could finish voicing his thoughts, scrambling to snag the handset from its dock.

"I'm here," was her greeting as she collapsed onto her sofa.

"Ah, there you are you little minx," the serious tone of the message was gone, replaced with the slightly unhinged high notes she was used to, "Three days of no calls. Naughty, naughty. Everyone will be so disappointed we will have to cancel the break out," the was a pause, "Who am I kidding. We'll make it a celebratory breakout instead of the rescue we had planned,"

Tears began to leak from her tightly closed eyes, a smile struggling to stay on her trembling lips.

"Rescue?" she struggled to make her voice strong, to hide the tears.

"Well, you're as bad as - what's his name, fixates on clocks and stuff…? - anyway, him. Regular as Batsy's nightly petrol,"

"Oh," she scrubbed her hand across her face. It didn't help. She reached for the cushion next to her and hugged it close.

"Sooo where have you been?" the serious note was back.

Silence fell as she fought to keep her breathing steady. If she wasn't careful she would turn into a sobbing mess. She had turned him serious. He was never serious. Well…not the kind of serious normal people were used to.

"Kid?"

She managed a squeak but had to go back to breathing as she felt her control waver, her throat vibrating with the effort to keep her tears at bay.

"That's it. The rescue is back on, we-"

"No," she gasped.

"Spill, kiddo,"

"I…I…shot someone,"

"Pfffff," a raspberry was blown from the other side of the line, "You're a FED," he said the word like it was something dirty, "It was bound to happen,"

"No. I shot a cop,"

"I do it all the time. Welcome to the family business. Although, I thought you were on the other team, but hey welcome to the dark side," there was a giggle and she felt her stomach roll again.

What was she expecting. She was talking to a psychopath.

"I killed a cop!" she finally shrieked into the phone, the tears coming in full force now as she clutched the cushion all the tighter.

There was nothing but the sound of breathing and then all she heard was him shouting for the guard and saying something about a 'code red' and Harley.

As Tim sobbed she was aware of the clinking of doors and whining of hinges on the other side of the line.

"Code red," she heard someone - the guard probably- mutter.

"Hey Little Puddin'," the voice was soft, not as high as she was used to hearing.

Great, she had broken two of them.

Tim sobbed all the harder. She was doing nothing but screwing up. She should have stayed home. Should have never got it into her head to go into law enforcement. But she had wanted to protect people. To prove that those who thought she couldn't do it were wrong.

She scrunched her eyes shut.

Look where that had got her.

"Hey Frank!"

Tim sighed as the phone was handed over to Frank. The conversation that had just ended had calmed her a lot. She still felt sick to her stomach. And a heavy weight still felt as though it was pressing down on her chest but she had stopped crying and got control of herself.

Now the phone was being trundled back to her initial caller.

She uncurled from the sofa and stood, leaving the phone on the chair - it would be a few minutes before it was put into the hands of her caller anyway. She would make herself a hot drink and climb into bed and hope sleep found her.

She shivered. Suddenly aware of a draft and she began to turn.

That was funny. She hadn't opened the win-

Standing right next to the now wide open window were two people she had hopped never to see again for as long as she lived.

Tim struggled - uselessly she knew - against the superhuman grip on her shoulders, and tried to wriggle from the restraints that kept her arms pined to her sides. The coiled bands glowed gold.

She glared at the woman in front of her, tears of guilt having long ago been replaced with tears of frustration.

She wouldn't answer the question. She shouldn't have to. Not for these self righteous, sanctimonious…

The buzzing began at the back of her head as she fought the compulsion to answer the question she had already answered before they pounced on her.

"Did you purposefully gun down a police officer?"

She was aware of a warmth traveling from her nose to run along the top of her lip.

She could taste the blood and she was forced to breath through her mouth.

Tim wouldn't give then the satisfaction of answering. She wouldn't. The buzzing and pressure in her head grew louder, stronger, more painful.

"Let the girl go," she looked away from the woman.

A figure all in black stood at the window.

Tim had never been so glad to see someone in her life.

Tim sagged to the floor as the grip on her shoulders vanished and the tight restraint about her arms and middle loosened and then too vanished.

She struggled to get her breathing even while wiping the blood from her nose with the back of her hand.

The trembling started somewhere in the base of her spine and radiated out until her teeth felt as though they would vibrate right out of her head.

"You had no right!" her rescuer's deep voice growled as she felt herself being lifted from the floor.

"We-"

"Get out," she could feel the growl go though her from where she was leaning against him.

He placed her on the sofa and she felt something warm being placed over her shaking frame.

"She is a risk!" the woman snapped and Tim flinched slightly.

"You would like to think that, wouldn't you," the dark figure responded, "Leave!"

There was a silence.

"We will speak of this later," the woman huffed.

Tim forced her eyes open.

They were gone. Leaving nothing but blood and the open window behind them.

"Lift up this handset now! You hear me. Now!"

Tim was aware of a small voice shouting through the silence that now filled the apartment.

She looked about in some confusion. Where was the voice coming fro-

Oh.

She reached for the phone and after a try or two reined in her shakes enough to lift the handset.

"I…I have to go Papa," she whimpered, her voice small even to her own ears, hardly even noticing the old name she had slipped into calling him in her distress. It had been years since she had used that term.

She looked up at the dark man in her living room. She felt dirty. Stained. They had come into her apartment and just…just…

"Pass me onto your visitor,"

"But-"

"I'll be good," he groused.

She did as she was told. Too tired to put up any sort of argument.

"I believe we had a conversation some years ago, Batsy," he spat.

"Jo-"

"No, you don't need to say anything. Your little 'super-group' just stepped over a line they would have been better of knowing was never there,"

"I got here as fast as I could,"

"But not fast enough,"

"I didn't-"

"What? Didn't know?" bit back the voice only to continue thoughtfully, "I have a date in Matropolis. You are going to look after her Batsy. Or the games end. You won't like me without my jokes.

In a cell in a building many liked to forget even existed a green haired man stood from his chair. He had a date in Matropolis.

A man walked into his office and paused in well hidden shock to find his chair occupied. He knew who by. The green hair and purple suit was a giveaway even if the crazy grin wasn't enough.

"What do you want?" he snarled.

"Lexxie, my favorite megalomaniac, how are we this evening? A little chilly for the time of year don't you think?"

Lex Luther had heard enough from the clown and reached for the speaker by the door, he pressed the red button that patched him through to the front desk.

"Security to my-" he stopped.

The clown was holding something in his pale hand. Something glowing. Something green. Something more valuable than gold to Lex Luther.

"Mr Luther," a slightly panicked voice sounded tinny from the speaker.

"Never mind. Its nothing,"

He walked wearily towards his desk.

"I'm listening,"

The clowns smile grew impossibly wider.

"What do you want?"

"Oh, Lexxie, the same thing as you," the clown looked at the glowing stone and back to him, "to see Superboy in agony,"

Hi everyone.

So my batman/McGirl world is a bit of a mixture of the movies and the animated series (if you haven't had the chance to check it out I can't recommend it enough. Great fun!). And in the series Joker shows he can be serious and not so 'manic' when it comes to some things. So not entirely out of character here I don't think. I am not a fan of the whole 'Justice League' thing (they threw Batman out!). Batman is (as you can probably figure out) my favorite and Wonder Woman (high five to anyone who guessed the woman was her) and Superman are right next to Captain America on my list of most disliked characters (well…I might come round to Wonder Woman, but at the moment…Nah).

Anyhoo, I hope you are enjoying this quite random collection. It will all come together at some point - pinkie swear ;)

Take care everyone.

:)

PS - For those who don't know yet I have the fourth collection (non-Batmany) running alongside this one at the moment. It will be under my stories if you head on over to my profile. :)