One word that could be used to describe Arkham Asylum in the late summer was unstable. Bills continued to pile up on Jonathan's desk, resembling a paper Mount Everest. The asylum had exceeded its capacity limit and some inmates were being forced to share rooms with three or four others. Escape attempts became common and were expected at least once a week.

To make matters worse, the air conditioner broke. The air in the asylum was now stinky and sweltering.

"How soon can you have it fixed?" Jonathan demanded to the repairman.

The repairman scratched his head. "That thing's unfixable. You're gonna need a new system, sir."

"And how much will that cost?"

"To have the whole thing repaired? I'd say a couple thousand dollars…"

Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose. They didn't have a couple thousand dollars to spend on air conditioning. They would have to go without it.

The repairman left and Jonathan checked in with the secretary, picking up some more bills and sticky notes with phone numbers to call. As he flipped through the notes, he popped open a button on his shirt. Beads of sweat were dripping down his back.

The doctors he walked past were rolling up their sleeves and fanning themselves with their clipboards. Some stopped and asked when the AC would be fixed. Jonathan replied by telling them to worry about more important things.

Ever since his unexpected encounter with Brynn Kiley a few nights before, Jonathan's mood had veered and gone south. What was she doing back in Gotham? Why was she back in Gotham? Jonathan had expected to never see her again. Or at least, not in this city. Hadn't that been her excuse when she ran off? That the city was making her sick?

He tried not to think about it. Whenever he did, a bitter taste invited itself into his mouth. It had taken him far too long to get over her. Now he didn't want her back here to destroy what he'd worked so hard to fix. To distract himself, he dove into his work.

After a therapy session with a man who believed he was a Monarch butterfly, Jonathan left and headed for the elevators. His heart leaped with excitement, thrilled to be heading to the basement. A select few had access to that forgotten section of the asylum. Jonathan pulled the elevator key out of his dress pants and jingled them.

A few months before, a mysterious man by the name of Ra's al Ghul had contacted Jonathan. Accompanying a vague note was a box of some of the rarest flowers in the world—when ingested, one would hallucinate and imagine the things they feared.

You seem like the man for the job, Ra's had written to Jonathan. I am aware of your interest in how the brain reacts to fear. You understand the instinct better than anyone else in your field. With that being said, I believe you can help me with something…

They had contacted one another several times since then. Jonathan had learned a few things about the man each time: he worked for a secret group called the League of Shadows; he wanted Gotham to fall to its knees; and he wanted Jonathan to help him take control of Gotham with him.

At first, Jonathan had been hesitant about working with the terrorist. What would happen if the operation went south and they were caught? Jonathan was quickly ascending up the ladder and he believed he was capable of achieving grander things.

His doubt in Ra's al Ghul was short-lived. Jonathan soon came to realize that this man was an expert and the best candidate for the job. He trusted al Ghul to succeed in taking over Gotham and Jonathan very much wanted to be a part of it. This city was a hell hole and the people in it were maggots. How many times had they stomped and spat on him?

Now it was Jonathan's turn to step on them. He would bring this city to its knees and the people would beg for mercy. He would show them…

Jonathan waited for the elevator doors to slide open. His fingers twitched excitedly, eager to get down to the basement and work with the flowers. The doors opened and he stepped inside.

"Dr. Crane!" a woman called out to him.

Jonathan bit the inside of his mouth when he saw Dr. Joan Leland. Behind her, a young girl followed, looking anxious. He caught the door just as it was closing and stepped out. The basement would have to wait.

"Yes, Dr. Leland?" he asked, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

She walked up to him and motioned to the girl standing behind her. "This is our new intern, Miss Harleen Quinzel."

She stepped forward and stuck her hand out. "Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to intern here, Dr. Crane. I don't know if you remember this but you gave a lecture to my Psychology class at GU on the topic of fight or flight."

Jonathan stared at the young girl for several seconds. She looked like the type of girl that belonged at a frat party. Her honey blonde hair looked like it had come out of a bottle and she had taken a curling iron to it. The spirals cascaded down her body and nearly reached her hips. Her hazel eyes were smudged with black liner and were wide and eager to please. He wondered how many professors she'd slept with.

When it became clear he wasn't going to shake her hand, Harleen brought hers back and looked at Dr. Leland nervously.

"Miss Quinzel," Jonathan said in a low voice. "Have you heard of Jervis Tetch, also known as the 'Mad Hatter'?"

Harleen nodded quickly. "I believe so."

"And you know how he picked his victims?"

"He went for blonde haired, blue eyed girls…because they reminded him of Alice from Alice in Wonderland."

"Very good. Mr. Tetch resides in this asylum. We can't allow any of our blonde nurses near him because of an incident that occurred to another nurse. Would you like to know what happened?"

Harleen swallowed. "Sure."

"She, like yourself, was blonde and made the mistake of coming to work with her hair down. Mr. Tetch believed she was Alice up until she angered him during a therapy session. He attacked her and yanked several fistfuls of hair out."

Harleen had cast her eyes to the floor and her face burned red. Jonathan took a step closer to her and stared down his nose at her. "If you are to intern in my asylum, I expect you to follow dress code rules like anyone else. Your hair is to be secured in a bun. Your face needs to be free of makeup and your nails free of polish." He looked down at her exposed knees and short skirt. "You are to wear slacks and no dresses or skirts. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," she said quietly, her eyes still downcast. Next to her, Dr. Leland stared at him in disbelief.

"I expect you to be presentable tomorrow. Since you are not in presentable attire today, I'm afraid I'll have to send you home."

"Dr. Crane, it's her first day. She made a mistake and I don't think she will make it again," Dr. Leland interrupted.

Jonathan focused his laser-like eyes on her. "If she is to intern here, she will follow the rules like everyone else. She should have asked prior to coming today what is considered appropriate workplace attire. We will see you tomorrow, Miss Quinzel."

Hurriedly, she turned away and disappeared down the hallway. Jonathan moved to leave but Leland stopped him.

"I'll be shocked if she's back tomorrow," she snapped. "She made a simple mistake—couldn't you have let it go?"

"If she's to work here," Jonathan slowly said, emphasizing each syllable. "She will follow the rules. The last thing we need is another Mad Hatter incident. The rules are for her own benefit. Outside the asylum, she may wear whatever she wishes. Inside, she wears what the rest of us wear."

Leland opened her mouth to argue but Jonathan held up his hand. "Do not question my authority, Dr. Leland. Consider this strike one. Three strikes, you're out."

Jonathan pivoted on his heel and left the angered woman to fume. He stepped inside the elevator and pushed in the key that would take him to basement. He had work to do.

. . .

For several hours, Jonathan worked tirelessly. He studied the rare flowers under microscopes and took notes as he worked. By the time he was finished, his eyes hurt from observing them for so long.

After clocking out, he walked out of the asylum and to his car in the parking lot. His phone began to ring as he started the engine.

"Jonathan Crane," he said exasperatedly.

"Jonathan, it's George."

He rubbed his eyes wearily. The last thing he wanted was to talk right now. All he wanted to do was go home, kick his feet up, and finish the book he was reading.

"How can I help you?"

"I have a favor to ask you…" George trailed off. "Would you mind meeting me for lunch tomorrow?"

Jonathan suppressed the urge to groan. There was too much work at the asylum that needed to be completed. "I have a meeting at noon and don't know if I'd be out in time for lunch…"

"Dinner, then?"

George sounded anxious. Whatever he wanted to talk about must have been important.

As much as he wanted to say no, Jonathan agreed to meet the older man for dinner. Before he could question him and ask about the favor, George hung up.

The meeting was forgotten about as Jonathan drove through the city. His mind was occupied by thoughts of flowers and fear.

. . .

At seven o'clock the next day, Jonathan was seated at the restaurant he and George had agreed to meet at. His eyes scrolled over the menu; everything sounded unappetizing and inspired outrage within him when he glanced at the prices.

He grumbled to himself and laid the menu on the table. He spotted George enter the building and shook the man's hand when he reached the table. After inquiring how the other was, they sat down.

"So I understand you have something to ask me." Jonathan went straight to the point, wanting this meeting to be over with as soon as possible. He had an impressive stack of paperwork at his apartment that needed to be filled out.

"Yes, we'll get to that in a moment," George told him. He ordered a glass of wine then studied the menu for several minutes. Jonathan sat there patiently while the man stalled.

After they ordered their meals, George exhaled and closed his eyes. He sat like that for some time and his age caught up to him. The crow's feet under his eyes were pronounced and his hair had completely turned gray. From the way he was savoring the moment, Jonathan guessed this was the first time in a long time that he had been able to slow down and take a break.

When he finally opened his eyes, he began to speak. "This favor I have to ask you is very important. Do you promise to help me out?"

"I can't promise anything but I will listen to what you have to say," Jonathan replied. He picked up his wine and took a sip. His eyes went over the man's body. The calmness had been short-lived and he was back to being fidgety and tense.

"As you know, Brynn's back in town," George began.

Jonathan automatically lowered his glass to the table.

"Yes, I know. What does this have to do with her?"

"The favor's about Brynn."

"About Brynn? Please explain."

George pinched the bridge of his nose. "Brynn has us all…concerned…for her mentality."

Jonathan narrowed his eyes. "Her mentality?"

"Yes. She's no longer who she used to be—"

"People change over time, George."

"As in she's unstable," George explained. "I've seen her more in the last week than I have in the last six years and from those encounters, I can tell there's something wrong with her. Psychologically wrong."

The conversation came to a brief pause when the waiter came with their food. Jonathan stared at George while the waiter set their plates in front of them. So that's why he had refused to tell him what he wanted until dinner. He wanted to have him cornered when he told him.

"Anyway," George muttered once the man was gone. "She's not herself. She can't be still for more than a few minutes and is constantly changing places—she claims to have lived in over twenty different countries in the last six years. Her mind is always elsewhere and when she thinks no one is looking, she appears disturbed. Brynn is borderline alcoholic, as well."

"That's hardly enough to be considered unstable," Jonathan said flatly, angered that the man was wasting his time.

"Those are the minor things," George said. "The list goes on and on. When Madelynn and I visited her apartment the other day, I couldn't help but notice all the prescription bottles she has in her bathroom. There were dozens of bottles, Jonathan, everything ranging from sleeping pills to anti-depressants."

George's mouth tightened and he lowered his voice. Jonathan had to lean forward to hear him. "She refused to get therapy after what happened. We had some psychiatrists come to the house once she was released from the hospital; she didn't say a word to any of them. She'd just sit and stare at them for hours. You can't walk away from something like that and not get therapy."

Jonathan's hands tightened under the table. Along with not thinking about Brynn since she'd left, he had avoided thoughts of her kidnapping. The two months she'd been gone had been torturous enough.

"You still haven't told me what you want from me," Jonathan said even though he had an idea of where this was going.

"I need you to examine her. I need to know if she needs treatment and how we can help."

Jonathan leaned back in his seat. "You said it yourself: she refuses to talk to psychiatrists."

"Which is why I don't want you to tell her you're examining her. I need you to hang out with her and observe her. If she doesn't know she's being watched, she'll do the things I told you about and you can diagnose her."

"So you want me to spy on her?"

"I wouldn't call it spying."

"It is spying. I'm sorry, George, but I can't. I'm in over my head with work right now. I wouldn't have time to hang out with her and figure out what's going on. It could take months to diagnose her."

"I'll sell the asylum drugs for half the usual price if you do this," George bargained with him.

Jonathan's eyes widened to an unnatural size. Half the price? George went on before he could respond.

"Amadeus told me about Arkham's financial problems before he died. From the sound of it, you guys won't last six months in the shape you're in. Do this for me and I'll relieve some of the pressure."

Jonathan's face burned red. He didn't want George's pity nor did he want to take the easy way out. It was humiliating that he knew about the asylum's unsteadiness. However, he was right. If they didn't get help fast, the asylum would shut down in no time.

Jonathan clenched his jaw. "Fine. I want this written up in a contract."

"No problem," George promised happily. He leaned back and took a sip of his wine. His eyes spotted someone behind Jonathan. "Do me a favor and pretend we never had this conversation."

Before Jonathan could ask him why, he heard the clicking sound of shoes coming towards them. They abruptly halted. Jonathan didn't have to turn around to know who was standing behind him

You sly dog, Jonathan thought bitterly.

"Glad you could make it, Brynn," George said to his daughter, acting as though they hadn't spent the last hour talking about her.

"Dad," Brynn said tightly with a forced smile on her face. She looked down at Jonathan. "Hi, Jonathan."

"Brynn," he greeted her coolly. He turned away and imagined himself jumping up and kneeing George in the groin.

Brynn turned her back to Jonathan and whispered to her father, "I thought it was just going to be the two of us?"

"Jonathan and I were just finishing up a meeting," he explained as he pulled the chair next to Jonathan out. Brynn looked at it uncertainly before sitting. "If you'll excuse me for a second, I need to use the restroom."

The two of them watched the man leave in disbelief. An awkward silence fell over them and Jonathan inspected his silverware.

"If I didn't know him any better, I'd say he did that on purpose," Brynn joked. The smile on her face didn't look as forced but she still seemed nervous. Her fingers fidgeted with rings stacked on her fingers and her eyes practically begged him to say something.

Jonathan snorted and nodded in agreement. The only way to make this work was to play along. Do it for the drugs, the psychiatrist within him chanted. "He's probably run out through the kitchen door by now."

The two of them laughed politely and looked away. The tension was melting away slowly. Jonathan's grip on the chair had loosened. He no longer believed he would bolt.

"Sorry to have intruded on your dinner," Jonathan apologized. "I hadn't realized the two of you were meeting up."

Brynn waved her hand. "It's no problem. I couldn't stay that long anyway. I'm meeting up with a friend after this."

The waiter stopped at their table and Brynn ordered a glass of wine. When he returned, Brynn took several hearty gulps of the liquid, nearly draining it. Once the alcohol was in her system, she visibly relaxed.

"So you and Georgie are buds now? He always liked you."

"He's been very helpful. I owe my career to him."

Brynn chuckled and stared into her wine glass. "I swear he would have swapped me to have you for a son. Another doctor in the family."

Jonathan looked around, unsure of where this conversation was headed and where George had disappeared to. He had a hundred things he'd like to say to the man, all of which would shock even the most rugged thug in Gotham.

He didn't want to be in the same room as Brynn and he could tell she felt the same way. There was too much history between them and it was better if the end of their story stayed on that rainy April day. There was no point in a future between them. Jonathan would find another way to support the asylum. He wasn't going to snoop around like a spy.

He opened his mouth to dismiss himself right as Brynn began to speak. They interrupted each other several times before Jonathan motioned for her to go first.

Her cheeks turned pink and Jonathan noticed the tiny, white scar on her forehead for the first time. He remembered a thick Band-Aid being secured over the spot six years ago. Jonathan swallowed and chased the thought away.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Brynn finally choked out. She was spinning her fork around and looked ready to bolt. "For leaving."

Jonathan stared at her and withheld all the things he wanted to say. You should be sorry. You were so selfish.

"I was sick," Brynn told him, using the same excuse as last time. "I needed to get out of there."

"Who could blame you?" Jonathan forced himself to say, knowing it was something Brynn would like to hear. She could never stand criticism. "What happened to you was traumatizing."

Her eyes were in a distant place and time. The spinning of the fork stopped and Brynn sat still, lost in her thoughts. She snapped out of it and smiled. "I'm better…and I'm glad you're still here."

His mouth twitched up in the corners, forming what would hopefully pass as a smile. The action wasn't one Jonathan was familiar with and he hadn't done it in quite some time.

"I should get going." She stood and pushed the chair in behind her. "Tell Georgie I'm sorry to have left."

She started to leave then paused. Brynn turned and looked down at Jonathan. "This is weird but would you like to have lunch tomorrow? I was hoping we could catch up."

"Lunch would be…nice," Jonathan surprised himself by saying.

"Great. Come over to my place around noon." She fished around for a pen and notepad in her purse then scribbled the address on the page. She tore it out and handed it to Jonathan. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She left Jonathan alone at the table. He stared at the note with her scribbled hand writing and was surprised to see that she was living at the Gotham Ritz-Carlton, one of the most expensive places in the city to live in. What surprised him more was that he had agreed to lunch with her.

For the asylum, he promised himself. Get in and get out.

It wouldn't be as simple as that.

. . .

Around one in the morning, Brynn pushed past sweaty bodies and made it out of the club. She sighed in relief when she inhaled the fresh night air and stretched her arms out. The valet left to fetch her car and Brynn was left alone on the sidewalk with the muffled bass music pouring out of the club.

Farther down the street, a black van was parked in front of a sushi restaurant. Brynn studied it out of the corner of her eye; it had been there since she had arrived at the club earlier.

The valet returned with her Mercedes and looked at her hopefully. Brynn gave the young man a twenty dollar tip and drove off. It wasn't long before she saw a black van behind her.

Adele must have known she was here.

Brynn led them deeper into the city, pretending that she hadn't noticed them. She went a few miles over the speed limit, something she'd typically do, and slowed down for j-walkers. Organization headquarters were about fifteen minutes away.

Brynn studied the van in her mirror. If she went to headquarters, she risked exposing the Organization and Adele could send more of her people in that direction. The last thing they needed was a battle in the streets of Gotham.

At the intersection where she should have turned right, she went left. The van had to wait as oncoming traffic approached. Brynn used the opportunity to pull out her phone and call James.

"What's up?" he answered groggily after several rings.

"I'm being tailed by Adele's people."

James swore under his breath. "Are you sure it's them?"

"Positive."

There was rustling on the other end. Brynn glanced in her mirror and saw the van approaching from behind, weaving in and out of traffic to reach her.

"Where are you right now?"

Brynn gave him her location and waited. She made a few more left turns and ended up back in the intersection where she had been earlier. By now, the van had to know she was on to them.

"Turn right on Jefferson," James commanded. Brynn sped up and cut off a pickup truck, receiving the finger and angry honks. She went right on Jefferson and sped up.

He directed her to turn on three more streets, each one more crowded than the last. Brynn swore when she got stuck at a light behind five other cars. "Got a faster route I can take?"

"You need to get somewhere congested," James explained. "I highly doubt they'll harm you in a crowded area. Turn left up on Quaker Street."

The van was struggling to keep up. When Brynn looked back again, they were gone. "I don't see them anymore, James."

"Drive around for a few more minutes just in case."

Brynn rolled her eyes at his paranoia. "I'm heading home—"

Suddenly, the van came roaring down the street in the opposite lane. The driver jerked the car to the left so half the vehicle was in her lane. At the last second, Brynn jerked her steering wheel and the car crashed into a telephone pole.

"Son of a bitch!" Brynn exclaimed. Smoke was rising from under the hood and people were looking at her curiously. Quickly, Brynn swiveled around in her seat to get a glimpse of the van. It had turned down an alleyway and disappeared from sight.

"Motherfuckers," she hissed.

She heard a tiny voice frantically calling out for her. Brynn searched around the floor with her feet and found her phone. "I'm fine," she barked out.

"What just happened?" James demanded. "It sounded like an explosion."

"That fucker ran me off the road," Brynn snapped. She flexed her muscles to make sure nothing was broken. Everything seemed fine other than some soreness in her back and neck. "I crashed my car."

She tried to open the door but it wouldn't budge. After a string of swear words, Brynn leaned back in her seat and sighed. In the distance, she heard sirens. "Cops are here. What do I say?"

"You lost control of the car," James instructed her. "I'll be down there with backup soon in case they're still lingering around."

He hung up. Brynn continued to unsuccessfully wrestle with the door handle. She shouldn't have let them out of her sight. Adele's henchmen were probably laughing hysterically right now. Wait until Adele heard that Brynn couldn't drive a car…

It took a half hour for the firefighters to cut the piece of scrap metal that was once a door from her car. Once they had pulled her out and inspected her for signs of a concussion, some not-so-friendly cops made her perform several sobriety tests. Not once did they ask her about a van. The blame was pinned on her and Brynn left with a very expensive ticket and a sore tailbone.

Adele would be hearing from her soon about this…

. . .

Jonathan walked down the busy sidewalk. It was around one o'clock on Wednesday afternoon. People hurried back to their offices after their lunch breaks. Some spoke on their cell phones while others tried to finish the sandwiches and yogurts they had purchased. Jonathan pushed past them. He was on his way to his first "session" with Brynn Kiley.

He supposed he couldn't refer to it as a session. Brynn assumed they were getting together for a late lunch to catch up. She had no idea her father had asked Jonathan to report back to him what was going on inside his daughter's head.

Jonathan still couldn't believe he had allowed George to talk him into it. He had better things to be doing than playing "friend" to some spoiled heiress who was making headlines left and right with her bad behavior. The picture from the Gotham Tribune he had seen earlier that morning came back to him. What was he getting himself into?

Then again, it was the least he could do. George had promised to sell the asylum drugs at a cheaper price and they needed the medicine.

How bad could it be? Jonathan would have lunch with her this one time and would be on his way, never having to think of the woman again.

The doorman held the door open for him and he walked into the Gotham Ritz-Carlton, taking the elevator to the eleventh floor. The doors slid open and spit him out and Jonathan walked down a long hallway with plush carpeting and gilded mirrors. Brynn's room was at the end of the hall. Bronze numbers hanging on the door marked her room. 1121.

Jonathan knocked twice and stepped back, inspecting the area around him. On the other side of the door, there was a loud clamor followed by a string of curses. The door swung open.

Jonathan fought the urge to step back in shock. Somehow, he managed to maintain his composure.

Only Brynn Kiley would answer the door in a bathrobe.

She casually leaned against the doorframe, inspecting the young doctor. Her hair had been piled on top of her head and accessorized with a red bandana. The black, silk robe loosely hung off her body and exposed her collar bones. Her eyebrows quirked up and she said, "What's up, Doc?"

He cleared his throat once, twice, three times. His voice seemed to have hidden in the deep recesses of his esophagus. "Brynn," he managed to squeak out. He cleared his throat again. "I hadn't realized you weren't…um…dressed. I can wait while you get ready—"

"I wasn't expecting you for another half hour," Brynn replied. There was a twinkle in her dark eyes. She knew she had broken his armor and made him uncomfortable.

Jonathan checked his watch again. It was exactly one o'clock. "I'm on time."

She shook her head. "No one ever shows up on time. It's unfashionable."

He stood there, dumbly, unsure of what to say. What was wrong with him? No one ever left him speechless and uncomfortable like this.

Brynn looked him up and down. "Are you planning on coming inside? Or are you going to stand in the hall all day?"

"I suppose I'll come inside," Jonathan replied through clenched teeth.

Brynn's lips pursed as she tried to suppress a smirk. "Wonderful."

She stood back and allowed him to enter, closing the door behind him. "I haven't ordered lunch yet so I'll call down. Make yourself comfortable."

She disappeared down a hallway. Jonathan walked through the foyer and into a large living room. Moving boxes occupied every corner of the room and clutter was spread out on the floor. Sunlight shone through the two windows on the far side of the wall; between the windows were floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, already crammed with art, photography, and fiction books, candles, artifacts, and a stereo. Framed paintings and enlarged photographs were stashed under the glass coffee table waiting to be hung on the white walls. Two white couches faced one another in the middle of the room.

"I think the white was a mistake," Brynn announced as she came into the room. She stood next to Jonathan and stared at her couches. "I've already spilled wine on one of them. I should have gone with brown leather."

Jonathan looked down at her and was relieved to see she had changed out of her bathrobe and now wore a white V-neck and gray jeans. "Wine would stain leather as well. You might as well cover your couches with plastic."

"Or not have them at all. Enough about furniture. Sit, sit! I want to hear all about you."

Maybe not everything, Jonathan thought. Some things in his life were best left unsaid…

"Do you want anything to drink?" she asked as he sat down on the couch. "I've got beer, wine, scotch—"

"Water would be fine."

She nodded and disappeared through a doorframe. "So," she called from the kitchen. "Georgie told me you snatched up the title of head psychiatrist over at Arkham. How's that going?"

He took note of the pet name she used when referring to her father. She had never referred to him as such before.

"It's fine," he told her, not wanting to get into details. The last thing he wanted was to admit he was up to his eyeballs with paperwork trying to keep the asylum afloat. "And what are you doing?"

She came back to the room with a water bottle and handed it to him. "I'm working at a gallery down on Brown Street."

"You're still taking pictures?"

"Selling pictures," she corrected him. "But I get my camera out every now and then."

Her bare feet padded against the hardwood floor and she sat on the couch across from him. They inspected each other for a moment, noticing how much the other had changed since the last time they had seen one another. Jonathan noted that she was much more calmed down than she had been the first night they met. No waiters had been knocked over yet.

She was staring at his face, the ghost of smile on her lips. "What?" Jonathan asked, not liking the intense way she was staring at him. Her black eyes made him feel exposed, like she could learn every one of his secrets just by looking at him.

Brynn shook her head. "It's just…I don't know, it's weird seeing you like this. Last time I saw you, you were eighteen and now you're a grown up. I guess it's strange to me because I didn't watch you age and transform. To me, it's as though you went from eighteen to twenty-three without being nineteen, twenty, and so on. You know what I mean?"

"I understand." Jonathan wouldn't admit it but he was experiencing the same thing. It was strange to see Brynn as a grown up. He had to keep reminding himself that she was no longer twenty.

A knock on the door interrupted them. "That must be the food," Brynn announced as she jumped off the couch.

A hotel employee rolled a cart loaded with food into the room. Jonathan stared wide-eyed. "You ordered all of this?"

"I wasn't sure what you wanted." She shrugged. "I'll send back whatever we don't eat."

"You can't send the food back, Brynn."

"Oh. More for me then." She thanked the employee and grabbed a plate of pasta salad and a bottle of white wine from the cart.

Jonathan snorted. "Isn't it a bit early to start drinking?"

"It's never too early," she replied and poured herself a glass. The image Jonathan had seen from the paper flashed back to him.

"I heard about your accident," Jonathan nonchalantly confessed as he sat down. He speared a leaf of lettuce. "Are you alright?"

Brynn groaned. "I was waiting for you to bring it up."

He patiently waited for an answer. Brynn took a long sip of wine and said, "To answer the first question on your mind, no, I was not drunk when I wrapped my car around that telephone pole. And yes, I'm okay. Just sore."

"What happened?" he pressed.

"I lost control of the car. Of course the police didn't believe me when I told them my story. I seem to have acquired a 'bad reputation' ever since I got back in town. The first thing they did after cutting me out of my car was breathalyze me."

Jonathan knew all about her bad reputation. Everyone knew about it. That was part of the reason why George had pleaded with Jonathan to visit Brynn. He needed to know what was going on in her head and why she acted like such an idiot. Her reputation was making the family look bad.

"Bad reputation?" Jonathan pretended not to know all about her shenanigans.

"Oh, you know." Brynn rolled her eyes. "Late night partying. Excessive drinking. Having a new guy on my arm every week. I swear this town's being run by stuffy grandparents. They've outlawed fun."

"They need someone to bash and make them feel superior. Unfortunately, you seem to be the new target."

"Let them bitch," Brynn said. She shrugged. "I find the stories they come up with entertaining. At least they're keeping themselves busy with something."

"So their words don't hurt you?"

"They amuse me," she giggled.

Jonathan leaned forward. "You get a kick out of it?"

"Of course," she replied. "It just goes to show how pathetic they are to be so obsessed with the choices I make and not the choices they make."

She had changed in the last six years. The old Brynn he knew worried about what other people thought of her. Their opinions had always mattered to her. Now she brushed them off like bread crumbs on her shirt.

"I've been meaning to ask you," Brynn interrupted his thoughts, "about that woman you brought to the ball the other night."

He cocked his head to the side. "About her?"

"Yeah," Brynn said. "What was her name again? Janet? Jeanie?"

"Jane. Jane Pike." Jonathan had completely forgotten that Brynn had met Jane the other night. Come to think of it, they hadn't really met. Brynn had just spilled her drink all over her. They had never officially been introduced.

"Is she still upset about…?" Brynn trailed off.

"You spilling your drink all over her? She was pretty upset about it," Jonathan confessed. "I think she's gotten over it."

"How long have you been together?"

Jonathan choked on his water. "Um, we're not really together."

"Friends?"

"No, not really—"

"Friends with benefits?"

Jonathan's face turned bright red. "We're on a…break, I guess you could say. We've been on and off for a while." He assumed they were on a break. After the ball, he had felt obliged to invite her back to his place and she denied his request. The two of them hadn't spoken since. It was no great loss to Jonathan. Knowing how the two of them worked, they'd be back at it again in a month.

"Ah," was her reply.

Of all the awkward conversations one could have with their ex-girlfriend…

But then again, they had never officially declared their relationship. Brynn left before that could have occurred.

He pushed the memory from his mind. He wasn't there to reminisce on the past and things that could have been; he was there to help George and collect as much information as possible.

Brynn was nibbling on a pastry she had snatched from the cart. She had casually placed her feet on the coffee table, a habit she had done in college to annoy Jonathan. Something on the bottom of her foot caught his eye.

"Since when do you have a tattoo?" Jonathan asked. He squinted at the black symbol printed on the bottom of her foot. "Is that Chinese?"

"Uh, Japanese," she said. Brynn took her feet off the table, hiding the symbol from his sight. "I got it on one of my trips."

"What does it mean?" Jonathan inquired.

Brynn shrugged. "Beats me. I think love or something."

A shrill ringing interrupted their conversation. Brynn reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Immediately, her face darkened.

"It's my boss from the gallery. It might take a while," she apologized.

Jonathan stood. "No worries. I should be getting back to the asylum."

Brynn smiled. "It was great seeing you. We should have lunch again some other time."

Jonathan nodded in agreement and thanked her for the meal. As he walked out the door, he heard her answer the phone in a low, urgent voice.

Once outside the hotel, Jonathan dialed George's number. He answered on the second ring.

"All seems to be well with her," Jonathan informed the older man. "She has a drinking problem, that's pretty obvious."

"Anything else?" George sighed.

"She doesn't seem to care about morals or what others think of her."

"It's from spending all that time in Europe," he muttered.

Jonathan shrugged. "She's invited me to have lunch again. I can collect more information on her and see what she's up to."

George agreed that that would be a good idea. They hung up and Jonathan hailed a taxi to take him back to Arkham. Brynn was the least of his problems. George would deal with her, maybe send her off to rehab and that would be the end of it.

Or so he thought.

. . .

A/N: A plus for me for updating so fast! That hardly ever happens. Hopefully I'll get another chapter up before vacation.

SO MANY REVIEWS AND I LOVE YOU ALL! Pretty sure you guys make the world go round. Thank you to JasmineScarthing, KaeBear, Dawn's Edge, areosmithlover, maddQueen, dEnIsE tHe StRaNgE, Guest (1), Guest (2), YoursAnnie, and Elena! Thanks for always putting up with my slow updates and writer's block and for actually reading this. I went back yesterday and reread the first 15 chapters—honestly, if I was you, I would have stopped reading. That shit was rough. Yikes, I don't even want to think about it. I thank you to the moon and back for somehow liking it and giving it a chance.

Not my favorite chapter but elements of the story have been established. Harley Quinn is in the story! I know it seems like Jonathan's super sexist but he's not, he just doesn't take her seriously at all. She'll prove him wrong as the story develops, you just wait and see. In no time, Harley will be Jonathan's right hand woman. Adele will also be making an appearance in the next chapter. That's going to be interesting…

Right now, Jonathan and Brynn are slowly becoming less awkward with each other. There's definitely still tension—Jonathan hasn't forgiven Brynn for leaving and thought she was selfish for doing so (he's not the most understanding person in the world). Brynn is better around him but she's still in shock that he's in Gotham. She hadn't prepared herself to face him again while she was with the Organization. She had always assumed he would just move away and start a new life.

One of my readers asked what I imagined the other characters to look like so here's how I usually picture them: Madelynn – Madeleine Stowe (I'm so original at making up names…), George – Henry Czerny (pretty sure I've mentioned this before but PoN was partially inspired by Revenge so when I started writing it, I always imagined the actors from the show as Brynn's family. Leave me alone, I can do what I want), Hanna – Lucy Liu, Heather – Jennifer Lawrence, James – James McAvoy (again, so creative), Adele – Jessica Lange (she's not my ideal choice for Adele. The whole time I've been writing this, I always imagined Charlize Theron as Adele but she's way too young to be her. I had to find a replacement), Isaac Beckman – Jamie Foxx, Cadence – Allison Williams, Conrad – Chris Messina, Harleen – Emma Roberts, Jamal Ekko (who will be introduced next chapter) – Columbus Short. I'm probably forgetting people. And, as we all know, Jonathan – Cillian Murphy, Brynn – Isla Fisher.

I'll try my hardest to update soon. Read and review!