I felt pretty inspired after posting the last chapter, so this one came out pretty quickly and I decided to post it early. It's mostly set-up for the next action-y things that are going to happen.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs. The Joker and Bruce Wayne/Batman are property of DC Comics.

Chapter 10

The Joker stood in the elevator, staring at his reflection in the mirrored doors as he waited to arrive at the penthouse. He had time to turn the corners of his mouth down in distaste at the gnarled, red scars on his cheeks before the doors slid open with a soft ding, revealing the dimly lit foyer of the little bird's apartment.

He stepped in and quietly stole through the dark rooms until he reached her bedroom, flicking a lamp on in the living room along the way to create some light. The door was open a crack. He pushed it open further and slipped inside, leaving it open enough for a dim shaft of light to filter through from the lamp in the living room.

He settled into the velvet armchair near her bed. Her head was turned towards him, her face sweet and blank in sleep. He was getting used to seeing it bare, after only seeing her with her mask on for so long. She lay on her stomach wearing an oversized white t-shirt, with her arms tucked up underneath her and one hand nestled under her chin. The duvet was pulled up to her waist and her hair, which he had noticed was getting darker as time passed, spilled out behind her head on the pillow.

The little bird thought he just hadn't shown up since the first day he had sought her out here. What she didn't know was that he had been here every night since then. It was a place to have some peace, away from the streets and the warehouse and his goons. Here, alone with the little bird in her nest, he could rest and relax and think- maybe even sleep a little, if he was lucky. He so rarely got to sleep.

He had felt a chord of temptation to stay with her after he'd surprised her in her bath earlier. He knew that was what she wanted. He knew that even now, she wouldn't push him away if he climbed into her bed with her, but he remained in the chair, just the same. The Joker didn't sleep next to someone.

The Joker also didn't watch someone sleep- at least not in a way that wasn't insidious. But he overlooked that. The little bird wasn't just someone. That much had become abundantly clear. But if she knew he was doing this, she would read too much into it. She would start asking him questions about his "feelings". He couldn't let that happen.

He leaned his head back against the soft chair and closed his eyes. In a few hours it would be sunrise and he would be back in the warehouse, back to being the soulless killing machine everyone knew him to be.

But for now, he was no one, and he let sleep take him.

Salomé stood in her closet clad in her bra and underwear, staring at the hanging clothes and trying to decide what to wear. She scanned a row of dresses, her eyes settling on a cognac-colored crepe fit-and-flare minidress with a tied v-neck, sailor-girl style. It had long, slightly puffy sleeves that were cinched at the wrists. She plucked it off its hanger and pulled it on over her head, reaching back to pull the zipper up. She slipped her feet into a pair of chic black leather loafers with an almond toe and a chunky three-inch heel. Then she moved from her closet to the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Her face was all healed up, and she was returning to work today after ten days of recovery. She hadn't seen the Joker since that night in the bath, and she had been going crazy with cabin fever. She could barely contain her excitement at finally being able to get out of her apartment and interact with the outside world. She put some mascara on and pinned the front sections of her hair back behind her head. Then she spritzed some perfume on, grabbed her Chanel quilted chain-strap bag with her wallet, phone, and keys in it, and pressed the button for the elevator.

A thought struck her as she waited for the doors to ding open, and she jogged to her office, grabbing Casey McMahon's file off her desk and dashing back just in time to slip into the elevator. Now that she was healed, she could start watching him.

She stepped out of the elevator at the ground level and strode through the foyer. She could see Edwin waiting in the car outside. She stepped across the sidewalk and opened the car door, dropping into the backseat.

"Morning, Edwin," she said, grinning at him in the rearview mirror.

"Mornin'," he replied. "Feeling better?"

"Much, thanks," she said.

He pulled away from the curb and they set off towards the office.

They drove past Martha's apartment building as they went, and Salomé thought about what a neglectful friend she'd been lately. She just hadn't felt the same about being around people after everything that had happened. But Martha and Chloe were her best friends, and she missed them. She pulled her phone out of her purse and typed out a group text.

Salomé Rowe: are you guys free for lunch today? I could order us something and we could sit in my office and catch up.

Salomé Rowe: i feel horrible for being such a shitty friend lately and i miss you :(

A few moments went by and she was starting to think she had messed things up with her friends worse than she thought, when Martha finally replied.

Martha Fortune: i'm free! and don't worry about it, things have been crazy for you lately. miss you too babe.

Chloe Horowitz: i had lunch plans with my parents but i'll cancel them. us catching up is more important!

Chloe Horowitz: what time should we come?

Chloe Horowitz: martha, I can pick you up on the way

Salomé Rowe: love you guys so fucking much

Salomé Rowe: maybe like 1:30?

Salomé Rowe: what do you feel like eating? Tsunami is super close to the office, idk if you guys feel like sushi though

Martha Fortune: sushi is good! i love that place

Chloe Horowitz: fine by me!

Salomé Rowe: do you guys just want your usual?

Martha Fortune: yep, with extra ginger for me

Chloe Horowitz: yes pls

Salomé Rowe: kk, see you guys at 1:30!

She dropped her phone back into her bag just as Edwin pulled up in front of the building.

"Thanks, Ed. See you at six?"

"I'll be here," he said, turning in his seat to flash her a smile. She grinned back warmly as she opened the door and stepped out on to the sidewalk.

She headed for the executive department first, knocking on her mother's door when she reached the end of the hall.

"Yes!"

She opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind her before moving to her mother's desk and sitting down.

"How are you feeling, trésor?"

"Much better. Thanks, mom."

"I spent some time in the design department looking at what you've done so far for next season. It's quite different from the other collections you've designed. I'm impressed."

Salomé felt warmth balloon in her chest. That was a big compliment coming from her mother. "Aw, thanks, mom, that means so much. Yeah, I guess I've been going through a lot of, ah, personal growth, and I wanted the collection to reflect that. It's not done yet, obviously, but I'm glad you like what you see so far." She grinned.

"Looking forward to seeing the rest."

"In that case, let me get to it. I'll catch up with you this afternoon." She stood and walked around the desk to give her mother a kiss on the cheek, then exited the office and crossed to her domain on the other side of the top floor, the design department. She stopped at Claudia's desk on her way to her office.

"Morning, Salomé," Claudia smiled.

"Morning, babe. Listen, Martha and Chloe are coming for lunch around 1:30. I wanted to order from Tsunami for us, but I'm thinking let's just order for the entire office since you guys have been working so hard. Can you sort it out? I'll send out an email to the whole office about it, and they can tell you what they want, and I'll also send you what me, Martha, and Chloe want."

"Yeah, sounds good, thanks Salomé! I love Tsunami."

Salomé smiled. "I'm gonna hole up in my office and work through the morning until the girls get here since we'll probably be catching up for a few hours. No calls unless it's urgent."

She continued to her office, shutting the door behind her and tossing her purse to its usual spot on the couch.

She laid Casey McMahon's file on the corner of her desk, pressed the power button on her computer, and pulled out her drawing tablet. She typed out the email about lunch to her team, then sent Claudia the orders for herself and her two friends. Finally, she got to work.

She had been drawing nonstop for three hours when her office phone rang. She slapped her stylus down onto her desk in irritation and snatched the phone out of its cradle.

"I said no calls, Claudia. I'm almost done, whatever it is can wait another half hour."

"No, I know, Salomé, but Bruce Wayne is here to see you."

Salomé sat in her chair, dumbstruck. She must've misheard.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Uh, Bruce Wayne… He's here to see you. Like, at my desk."

"Umm…. okay. Okay, send him in," she muttered. She hung up and sighed in disdain. What the fucking hell is Bruce doing here?

A few seconds later, a sharp knock sounded at her door and then it opened to reveal the tall, suited figure of Bruce Wayne. Salome stood and came around her desk.

"Bruce," she acknowledged in as friendly a tone as she could muster. "What a pleasant surprise."

"Looking lovely as always, Salomé," he said smoothly. He smiled his usual cocky smile, and she could see from the amusement in his eyes that he saw right through her show of friendliness.

She gestured towards one of the chairs across from her desk.

"Please, sit." He did, crossing an ankle over his knee. She settled into her own chair. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I actually just wanted to drop off an invitation to a party I'm having. I left it with your mother, but I figured I'd say hi just the same."

"Well, that's sweet of you, but I think I've probably reached my quota for your parties after the last one." She wanted him to stop inviting her to things, and she wanted him to get out of her office.

He laughed. "Don't be silly. I'd love to have you there. You and your parents."

She smiled tightly, not bothering to make it look genuine. "I'll do my best to make it," she said.

He stood. "That's all I ask. I won't keep you. I left my date out with your assistant and I should probably go rescue her." He had a smug look on his face.

She continued to smile, now with thinly veiled disgust. "Probably a good idea. Thanks for stopping by." She walked him to the door and lingered a moment as he sidled over to Claudia's desk, where a very young-looking blond girl wearing short white shorts, a flouncy white top, and wedge sandals was waiting. He wrapped an arm around her waist and nodded at Claudia as they headed towards the elevators.

Salomé narrowed her eyes. If ever there was someone in a position to take advantage of girls, it would be him, she thought. He's got power, resources, a mansion outside the city… that girl looked like a teenager. I wonder if he's coercing any of them. It was a well-known fact that he was a womanizer. She crossed to the floor-to-ceiling window in her office just in time to see Bruce helping his date into his car. She made up her mind to watch him for a few days and make sure he wasn't up to anything bad.

"Okay, what in the royal fuck was Bruce Wayne doing here?"

Salomé turned to see Martha and Chloe standing in the doorway, and skipped across her office to throw an arm around each of them.

"So happy to see you guys!" she squealed.

"Yeah, me too," Martha said, patting Salomé's back sarcastically, "but I repeat, what in the royal fuck was Bruce Wayne doing here?" She moved Salomé's bag to the table and flopped down on the couch.

"Oh, he was just inviting me to some dumb party," Salomé said, rolling her eyes.

Chloe snorted as she took the spot on the couch next to Martha. "I guess he just didn't get enough of you last time."

"Shut up," Salomé said, kicking her leg out towards Chloe playfully as she settled into one of the comfy chairs across from the couch. "Did you see that child he was with? He's so disgusting."

Claudia knocked on the doorframe and entered with two large brown bags.

"Here's your food, guys," she said.

"Thanks, Claud," Martha said.

"Can you shut the door on your way out, babe?" Salomé called as she exited.

"Yeah, I don't know where he finds these girls, honestly," Martha said, slumping back into the couch and examining the ends of her blonde hair as Claudia shut the door. "I've dreamt of having a date with him ever since the first party I saw him at when I was fourteen, and here he is with some teenager wearing cork wedge sandals." She finished with her voice dripping in disgust. Chloe and Salomé laughed.

"Pretty offensive," Chloe mockingly agreed.

The sushi was delicious, and they passed the rest of the afternoon laughing together and catching up. After so many days of total isolation, it felt amazing to be with her friends in such a normal way. She was getting too used to her encounters with the Joker, which were anything but normal. She realized that she did miss this old, good side of herself. She may not have had the wild freedom she felt now, but she was happy when the good side was all she was.

Now, things were more complicated. She supposed that things were always bound to be more complicated when you had to hide half of your life away from everyone around you. The entire afternoon with Chloe and Martha, they had been filling her in on everything they'd been doing in the last months. But she had to lie and pretend that all she'd been doing was working. How could she ever tell them that in the last few months she'd killed a man, adopted a vigilante identity, and fallen in love with the Joker? She thought of the Batman. During the day, he was just another Gotham citizen. She wondered how he dealt with his double life. Maybe she would ask him the next time they ran into each other.

She was sad to see Chloe and Martha go when five-thirty rolled around and she had to wrap up her workday.

But her sadness was short-lived, because then she remembered that tonight she would stake out Casey McMahon for the first time.

Salomé had mulled over her plans for Casey McMahon in the car as Edwin drove her home. She realized that it was a different situation from that of Larry Perkins. It wasn't like he routinely molested children at home on a daily basis, so she couldn't watch and wait for something to happen like she had with Perkins. That could take months.

No, she would have to do some of her own detective work to find out what really happened when his wife accused him of molesting their children. And if and when she was absolutely certain he was guilty, she would confront him. She checked her watch. It was only six-twenty. Still plenty early enough to make a house call to McMahon's ex wife.

"See you Monday, Ed. Have a nice weekend," she said as she got out of the car.

Her thoughts turned to the Joker as she rode up in the elevator. She wondered if he would be watching her tonight, if she would see him. She hoped so. She'd missed him the last few days. She had thought back a million times to how he had affectionately caressed her neck in the bath that night. She wanted him to touch her like that again.

The elevator doors dinged open, pulling her out of her thoughts. She had to get moving now. She bounded through her apartment to her closet, dropping her bag on the little island couch there and flicking on the light. She needed to find her most professional looking outfit.

After much rifling through her clothes, she picked out a classic Chanel black and white tweed pencil skirt and jacket combo and a white button-down to wear underneath. She slipped her feet into some black Louboutin pumps and crossed to her bathroom to sit at her vanity.

She swept her hair up in to a chic high bun. But she felt she needed one more thing to complete her disguise. Something that would make her look bookish and serious.

She marched back to her closet and rifled through some drawers until she found a pair of black-framed fake spectacles, left over from when wearing glasses was a trend in 2009. She put them on, slung her chain strap bag over her shoulder, and grabbed McMahon's file. She checked herself in her bedroom mirror and snorted at her reflection. I look like such a professional, she thought amusedly. She swept out of her bedroom to the elevator, stopping in her office along the way to grab a notepad and a pen. Then she rode the elevator down to the garage.

She slid into the driver's seat and leafed through McMahon's file, searching for his wife's address. She tapped it into the GPS in her car. Twenty-five minute drive, she thought. She put the Audi in gear and set off.

McMahon's wife lived in a little townhouse a ways outside of the Diamond District, in a neighborhood that wasn't sketchy by any means, but wasn't ritzy either. Salomé found street parking a couple of blocks away. Leafing through the file one last time, Salomé saw that Mrs. McMahon and her husband hadn't officially divorced, but were separated. She took a deep breath before stepping out of the car, locking up, and walking briskly towards the townhouse.

She mounted the steps to the front door and rang the doorbell.

A moment passed before she heard the locks turning, and then the door opened to reveal a thin middle-aged woman with mousy brown hair and a world-weary expression.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Mrs. McMahon, good evening. I'm so sorry to bother you at home like this. My name is Bridgitte Marsden, I'm from the district attorney's office. I just wanted to ask you some follow-up questions about your husband's case, if you have a moment to spare."

"Why are you asking questions about that? I thought the case was closed," she said, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

"Officially, yes, it is. But I feel that it was handled incorrectly, so I'm trying to have it reopened. I specialize in these types of cases, so I might have a better take on things. And our new DA, Harvey Dent, is very proactive."

Mrs. McMahon stared at her suspiciously a moment longer before stepping aside and gesturing for Salomé to come in. She led her to a small sitting room with a couch and a couple of armchairs and sat down, motioning for Salomé to do the same. Salomé sat on the sofa across from her.

"Ask away," Mrs. McMahon said.

"Well, since I wasn't with the DA's office when your case was handled, I was wondering if you could just walk me through what happened, and how you came to accuse your husband."

"What happened was I caught him in the act. I woke up in the middle of the night and he wasn't in bed next to me. I walked down the hall to use the bathroom and I heard rustling in my daughter's room. When I opened the door, he was on top of her." She wore a sickened look on her face. "His pants down… you know." She looked down at her hands and sniffed. "She was only six at the time."

A lump of disgust rose in Salomé's throat. "I'm so sorry. What happened next?"

"I screamed. He jumped off her, and tried to play it off like it wasn't what it seemed. But what else could it have been? I mean, what other occasion is there for a man to be in between someone's legs with his pants down?" She shook her head. "I grabbed Katie and my son and locked us in our room. I started asking her questions, like how long this had been going on. She said since her birthday, which was almost a year before that. She said he told her that it was the way a daddy showed he loved his daughter." She let out a choked sob as her last words left her.

Salomé felt rage swelling inside her. She leaned forward and took Mrs. McMahon's hands in hers. "I'm going to make sure he never does this to Katie or any other little girl ever again. I can promise you that." She gave her hands a squeeze and then let go.

"I still have the tape from when the police therapist interviewed Katie. I asked for it after they closed the case. I could give it to you if it would help."

"Thank you, I think it really would."

Mrs. McMahon left the room for a moment. Salomé took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the tears that were starting to prickle them. Six years old, she thought. That fucking bastard.

His wife returned with a VHS tape a couple minutes later.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. McMahon. This will be really helpful. I'm going to get to work on it straightaway." She stood and regarded Mrs. McMahon. "You and your daughter are very strong."

Then she turned and headed for the door, opening it and slipping out into the warm night air.

She tried to stamp down her rage and come up with a plan as she drove back home. She would watch that tape, to start with. She realized she didn't have a VHS player at home and made a detour towards the office. She would have to use the A/V room.

She parked in her spot and badged into the elevator, stepping out on the deserted eighteenth floor, where the audiovisual department was. She badged into the A/V room and shut the door behind her.

She pushed the tape into the VCR player and turned on the accompanying TV. The image popped up onto the screen. She could see the back of a man's head, and a little girl with light brown hair.

"Katie," the man said. "Can you tell me about your daddy?"

"He loves me," Katie said, fiddling with some blocks on the table in front of her.

"What sorts of things do you do together?" the man asked.

"We play games."

"What's his favorite game?"

Katie was silent for a long moment.

"Katie? Can you answer my question?"

"The one where he comes in my room."

Salomé sucked in a deep breath and shook her head.

"What are the rules of that game?" the man asked.

"I have to lie still and be quiet."

"Mhmm?"

"And then he takes his pants off."

"And then what?" the man asked gently.

"And then he-" Salomé turned the TV off and pressed the "eject" button. She couldn't watch anymore. She felt the rage welling up inside her again.

She slipped out of the A/V room and rode the elevator back down to her car. As she drove home, she formulated a plan. She would observe McMahon for a couple days to learn his habits. And then she would confront him. She would make sure he knew that if he ever went near another child again, there would be hell to pay.

She immediately changed into her Nightmoth outfit when she got home, and then walked right back out the door. She got behind the wheel of the Audi and set off for Casey McMahon's house.

He lived in a shabby little house in a seedy neighborhood on the outskirts of town. It took Salomé nearly forty minutes to drive there. She parked her car a ways down the street and walked towards the house. All of the lights were off, and there was no car in the driveway.

She walked around the side of the house to the back door and jiggled the handle. Locked. She moved towards a screened window to the left of the door and gingerly pried the screen off with her knife, then tried the window. It slid open.

She hoisted herself up and climbed through, landing on her feet in the kitchen. She paused and listened, in case someone was here after all. Her knife was still wrapped in her fist. She exited the kitchen and moved down the hall. She opened a door to her left and found a half bathroom. Behind another door to her right was a small office-type space with a computer. She crept in and hit the space bar, and the screen came to life directly to the desktop. No password. What an idiot, she thought. She quickly opened a browser window and checked his history. Nothing. Hmm.

She pulled open one of the drawers of the desk, then another. The third drawer she opened contained a laptop. Bingo, she thought. Slipping her knife back in its holster, she pulled the laptop out and perched on the chair with it in her lap. She opened it up. It, too, had no password. She opened a browser window and checked the history. It was full of what looked like kiddie porn sites. She found one link that looked like a chat room, and clicked on it. It took her to a kiddie porn chat site. She looked at the first chat in the history and found hundreds of messages between McMahon and another man, discussing how they wanted to find a little girl to snatch, and what they would do to her if they did. She shuddered in revulsion.

She searched through his files, finding the one that contained all his images. About a hundred photos of little girls in various states of undress leered back at her.

She exited out of all windows and slammed the laptop shut, placing it back in the drawer. Then she crept back the way she'd come and climbed out of the window. As far as she was concerned, she had all the proof she needed.

She replaced the screen and then looked both ways to make sure no one was around before jogging back to her car. She was going to watch and wait to see when he would get home.

Her heart did a flip in her chest and she stopped short when she saw the painted face staring at her through the windshield.

She sighed exasperatedly and slid into the driver's seat.

"Did you have someone drop you off here just so you could creep up on me? Are they waiting nearby, or are you going to ask me for a ride home after our date?"

The Joker smirked.

"I won't even bother asking how you got in my car."

"You're learning," he drawled. "What did this one do?" He nodded towards McMahon's house.

"He molested his daughter."

He made a noise deep in his throat. It wasn't disapproval, but sounded more like fascination.

She snuck a glance at him through her lashes, and plucked up her courage.

"I'm glad to see you," she said shyly. "Creepy sneakiness aside."

He raised his eyebrows at her. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes.

"So, what do you have in store for Mr. Child Molester?" he asked sardonically.

She shrugged. "I'm just going to confront him. Make sure he knows he's being watched, and not to try anything."

"Not going to give him the same fate as your wife beater?"

"I didn't want to give the wife beater that fate."

"That's debatable, but either way, you sure liked it."

"I didn't like it."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Tell that to my fingers, dollface."

"Maybe- maybe I acted out afterwards. I had a lot of energy and emotions that I needed an outlet for. And maybe I liked what I did with you. I mean, I did like what I did with you. But I didn't enjoy killing him. I didn't," she ended with conviction. She realized how childish she sounded.

His eyebrow rose even higher. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, little bird."

They sat in silence for nearly an hour, watching. Finally, a beat up old car came tearing around the corner and swerved into McMahon's driveway. Salomé checked the time on her car's console. Eleven-thirty. She waited until McMahon was inside his house.

"I'll be right back." She opened her door and jogged towards McMahon's car, wanting to get a closer look. It was a Toyota Camry that must've been from the nineties. She glanced at the license plate, taking note of the first three letters, then turned to jog back to her car.

The Joker was gone.

She sighed in disappointment as she got behind the wheel and turned over the engine. That was still, like, forty minutes longer than he usually stays, she thought to herself.

Her thoughts returned to McMahon. I should watch him for a couple more days, just to see if he gets home around the same time every night.

She peeled away from the curb and set off towards home.

Like I said, it's mostly setup, but I hope you liked it just the same. Action coming up next chapter! Stay tuned :)

xo nightmoth