Disclaimer: I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight/ Suicide Squad characters. All other characters are mine.

The next few chapters will feature a special guest, keep an eye out for updates ;)

Hi everyone still reading, I love you! This has been a 40,000 word journey, and while I still have a few chapters to go, I just want to say thank you for getting this far with me, I've loved every moment. So much time and effort goes into these stories, and it's your attention that makes it all worthwhile

Stay amazing, and not too serious! XOXOXO -Improbable Dreamer

(P.S If you haven't seen Suicide Squad and aren't sure who Napier is/will become, feel free to google 'Jack Napier' and feel conflicted emotions for what this means. :) )

Yvonne closed the consultation room door, the portrait still in her grasp and a hint of a smile playing at her lips. It was progress, on all accounts, Cat Morgan was definitely blossoming before her very eyes into a healthier and happier person. And still, something about everything left a sour taste in her mouth; a month ago Yvonne never would have been happy to receive a gift from a serial killer, and here she was, slightly giddy, because Caterina had drawn her face on a crappy office notepad. Yvonne might be pulling Morgan towards the surface, but at the same time she was beginning to drown herself.

She shook the thought from her head. It was desensitising, that's all, all this talk of murder meant that Yvonne wasn't as disgusted by it, it didn't mean she didn't care anymore, right?

Yvonne's route back to her office was unexpectedly interrupted, when two burly security guards stepped out before her.

"Excuse me." She tried to side-step them, only to have them move around her to form a human-cage.

"Miss Huntley." The taller man before her drawled, his posh British accent contradicting his butch appearance. "Warden wants a word." And the two of them half-shoved, half-guided Huntley back up the building.

Warden Jaidev's office was at the end of a long, grey corridor. Medals and certificates of service lined the walls, and framed photographs were hung up every 3 feet. Jaidev's stern expression stared at her from each frame, his balding head, thick moustache, and stout stature made him appear quite accurately as a bad-tempered walrus.

The two policemen paused outside the deep mahogany door, turning to stand guard beside its blurred square window.

Yvonne, confused and slightly afraid, pulled the door open and entered the Warden's office. It was the same colour as the corridor, a horrid and dull grey with dark brown furniture and the same walrus man staring at her from behind a large desk.

"Afternoon Huntley." Jaidev droned, his monotonous voice echoing around the small room. He lifted a hand, indicating for her to take one of the leather sitting chairs.

"A-afternoon." Yvonne stammered and sat quickly, her heart was racing as she imagined what could possibly force an audience with the asylum's Warden. He netted his hands together, and regarded her with an expression of mild dislike.

"I'm just gonna cut straight to the chase," Jaidev leaned his elbows on the desk. "Next month, you're gonna take some sick-leave."

She raised her eyebrows incredulously, short laughs of disbelief escaping her.

"Am I? I feel fine."

"Don't be cute with me." He scowled, his moustache trembling in an almost hypnotic way.

"You're gonna spend some quality time with your husband, and we're cancelling your sessions with Caterina Morgan."

"With all due respect," Yvonne almost spat, leaning forwards to rest her own elbows on his mahogany desk. "My wife's out of town, and I believe that more time is required for Morgan."

Jaidev seemed taken back slightly, he had never received such aggression from his officers before, it was almost refreshing.

"Ha!" He shook his head, laughing. "Why are stiffs always so sensitive."

"Its kinda my job to be."

"Ah well, there's not much use lying to you now, is there?"

"No sir." The two of them leaned back into their own chairs, the tension had been broken and some level of respect had been established.

"Here it is," Jaidev placed his palms flat on the desk. "Morgan's a killer, she's a serial killer for Christ sake, we can't ignore the facts."

"Which are?"

"Thirteen bodies, five of which were cops. I think if there is a line, she crossed it by a mile."

"Right," Yvonne said slowly, a puzzled frown on her face. "But I think you have to allow consideration for the kidnapping and mild torture."

"That evidence isn't clear anymore," Jaidev pointed a finger at her, accusingly. "In every report filed, Caterina Morgan was an accomplice to that Joker. And, might I add, there is strong suggestion that they had…certain affairs, to put it gently."

She didn't understand a word of what he was saying, the anger and judgement, she also didn't understand why she was so quick to jump to Cat's defence.

"Just, don't come into work next month, let my boys offer payment."

"Payment?" Yvonne jumped up from her chair in outrage, sending it skidding madly over the polished floorboards. "I think a double life sentence in this shit-hole is payment enough. Don't even pretend that you don't know what your 'officers' do to Morgan, far as I'm concerned, she's almost got reason for killing scum like you."

The words left her mouth before she could stop them, and they were slicing through the air like white-hot knives. She brought her head into her hands, breathing heavily against the palms.

"I-I mean." Yvonne shrunk back into the seat, her face a mask of regret.

"How many criminals do you reckon have walked these halls?" Jaidev asked, his voice oddly calm.

She could only shrug in response.

"Hundreds," He pulled a fountain pen out of its holder, twiddling it between his thumbs as he went on. "And how many of those were murderers? Psychopaths? A lot goes on down here that you don't know about. And yes, every now and again, we come across someone who needs to be justly dealt with, I send my boys, a criminal goes missing, the streets are safer for it."

Yvonne swallowed, a new horrific light was shining on the man before her. Warden Jaidev was running a slaughterhouse, and Morgan was the prized pheasant he'd been waiting for.

"It'll be quick," He reassured her with a sympathetic smile. "We just can't afford her breaking out onto Gotham's streets. Washington contacted, they're sending Joker over in a month to be held and trialled in Gotham. It seems even the FBI want to send that monster far away, and after the last incident in Arkham we can't afford to let two psychopaths meet. So, we gotta take this into our own hands."

"How?"

The question seemed to surprise him, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he pointedly avoided her gaze.

"We, uh, can't risk the medical team tracing this back to an organised killing. It will be as it always is, an accident, a lethal beatdown for shit-talking an officer. Hell, Morgan's gotten two beatdowns today so it's not incomprehensible. Until then we'll have someone else take her daily sessions."

"Good." Yvonne sat back, suddenly relieved. "Another therapist will agree with me, anyone who talks with Morgan will agree that she is worth more than some beatdown."

Jaidev laughed coldly, an unwelcome sound that sent her heart skidding like a car on a wet road.

"Dr Crane?" He shook his balding head. "He's not one to sympathise. In fact, I predict he'll destroy her. But he did send out a request for a month of consultation, and I figured that it couldn't do more harm. What some psycho does with a serial killer doesn't concern me."

Yvonne couldn't hear anymore, she couldn't resist clocking Jaidev in the moustache every time he opened his fat mouth. Wordlessly she sniffed, stood up from her chair, and made a hasty retreat for the door.

"Oh, and Huntley?"

She turned, slowly, brushing red curls behind her ears.

"You let Morgan in on this, we're gonna have a problem."

"O-Of course, sir." Yvonne stammered, her file of notes clutched tightly to her chest. He nodded one final time, before she closed the door on his office and on the horrible fate that awaited Caterina Morgan.

She was permitted to see Cat for two more sessions, and with her mouth forced shut on the terrible truth, it was torture.

"Yvonne!" Morgan greeted her the next morning, eyes bright and scars faded. The most frustrating part of it all was the word 'almost'. Yvonne almost saved her. Caterina almost lived.

She could tell Morgan was nearing the end of her story; all the fantastical car chases and romantic moments were boiling down to the sour and stagnant truth: Caterina Morgan was arrested and brought to live in torment in Arkham Asylum.

At midnight, more rigged explosives were going to grace the streets of Gotham. This time however, Joker couldn't avoid including his own dramatic flair, and thus a little social experiment was born.

Two boats, both leaving Gotham harbour to seek refuge elsewhere. One sardine-packing Gotham's underbelly and criminals, the other full of comfortable and cowardly civilians wishing to run from Joker's tyranny. While they both were rigged with enough explosives to send them into the sky, the detonator for each was given to the opposing boat, to seal the fate of a stranger. If neither was destroyed by midnight, Joker would blow them both up and kill 50 people. How he managed to organise the rigging in the boats and the hospital was beyond Cat, it seemed that he had either a very organised and dedicated list of employees, or was relying on other factors in his little games.

Caterina yawned, deeply, and tried not to think about the sun-rise nor her lack of sleep. Maps and blueprints covered the king-sized bed, scattered over the sheets and hiding it entirely. The hotel was 3 blocks away from the Prewitt building, and after a night of studying, Cat knew every inch of the damn place.

"Why do we have to break in again?" She whined, and brought the caffeinated drink to her lips to devour the final drop.

"Sweetheart, stay with me," Joker paced the beige carpet, tinkering with a small device. "I've explained how the Prewitt is a giant image processor, sending and receiving communications over the city. With all that traffic, it's blocking the sensors on the boat's explosives. We break in, we shut down the system, we're back in business."

"Why can't we just blow up the place." She grumbled again and was clearly not justified with his response.

"So bloodthirsty." He laughed. "Told you, you shouldn't've had that fourth coffee. That building emits a signal in distress, like a suicide bomber, it would completely shut my operation down. So, lucky us, we play Tom Cruise for the evening."

"I hate Tom Cruise." But despite her clear unwillingness, Joker went ahead and planned the heist in meticulous detail. It was lucky, she thought, that the Prewitt building was hosting a grand party in the lower floors to celebrate Gotham's 210th birthday. Joker laughed when she voiced this, saying with a knowing look that he didn't believe in luck.

"I have a lot of friends." He grinned. "And when I want a distraction, I get it."

The plan seemed relatively simple; enter the party, cause a diversion, shut down the security systems, take the elevator to the top floor, and install a virus into the system, giving them 20 seconds to blow the boats before it repaired itself.

With the added complications of the armed guards and the slim timeframe, disabling the system at precisely twelve wasn't going to be a simple feat.

"Right," Cat rolled over to her side, feeling maps crunch beneath her. "What about the diversion."

"Aha!" Joker pointed at her excitedly. "A good magician knows the importance of smoke and mirrors when it comes to the perfect trick."

Cat stared at him, blankly.

"You will be my smoke and mirrors." He held his thumbs and forefingers before his eyes, framing her in his hands as a photographer would.

"I can't go in alone, and you're a bit infamous to waltz into a crowded party."

The answer, it seemed, was to travel down to the hotel's restaurant and meet a friend for breakfast. Thanks to the highly unreasonable time, the round white tables and velvet chairs were unoccupied, save for a single party beside the back wall.

The men guarding it weren't Joker's usual thugs and misguided criminals, with cheap masks and even cheaper personalities. Instead, they wore expensive gold jewellery, pressed silk and cashmere suits and stylised handguns. They nodded at Joker, an invitation to sit down, and the pair of them took a seat to face their host.

He held a glossy black cane with an impressive diamond head, though his appearance made it clear it was merely a decorative item. The man had dark hair, with short sides and a longer, slicked back top, a fairly modern hairstyle. His face was sunken in slightly, exaggerating his cheekbones, and his eyes were large and unsettlingly beautiful in their infinite greyness. A gold chain sparkled from his neck, and his fingers were laden with spiked rings.

Cat was sitting before a high-end gangster, a class she thought was complete fiction.

"Napier!" Joker greeted with a friendly smile, he extended a hand but was given a mere nod of respect in return.

"We ready?" Napier raised an eyebrow in question, and flashed silver caps on his teeth as he spoke. "Where's the girl?"

Joker turned to Cat beside him, and threw his hands out proudly. "Ta-da!"

Napier leaned forward and assessed Cat with his steely gaze, she saw hints of tattoos peaking above his green button-down. After a moment of assessing her, he leaned back with a dubious expression.

"Mister Joker." Napier's voice was odd and he slurred his words, almost as if speaking from the back of his throat. "I need a diamond, you've brought me coal."

Cat's mouth fell open in disbelief, she glanced quickly at Joker to see if he would defend her. Apart from a subtle lip curl, he showed no signs of discomfort.

"Trust me, we get her in a dress, throw her under those dazzling chandeliers, she'll blind everyone." He responded without hesitation, under the table he squeezed her thigh in reassurance, and as a warning to keep her cool.

Napier shrugged a toned shoulder, rolling the diamond of his cane around his palm.

"Whatever. My men get paid, we don't have a problem."

Cat raised an eyebrow at Joker incredulously.

"Oh," He shook his head as if remembering an important detail. "Cat this is Jack Napier, my man in Gotham's underbelly. He's been building a rep for the Joker name for the past few months, he's also been helping me tear Gotham apart, one mob-leader at a time. Napier this is Caterina Morgan, I'm sure she doesn't need much of an introduction. You two will be playing the party guests tonight.

"Him?" She laughed in disbelief, jabbing a thumb at the gangster. "He's just a kid."

"He's the same age as you."

"I wear it better."

Napier shrugged off the insults, and grabbed Morgan's unsuspecting hand.

"My dear." He carried the 'r' in his lips with a haunting smile. "I'm so sorry if I upset you. Let's be friends."

She watched, still immensely confused, as he brought her hand to his lips and pecked a kiss upon it.

"Thanks."

But he wasn't done, eyeing Joker smugly, almost as a challenge, he turned her hand and began to trail kisses up her wrist and forearm.

"Ahem!" Joker cleared his throat, hiding a glare behind his cough, and Napier looked up at him from Caterina's arm.

"Sweetheart," Joker's voice was low and verging on a growl. "We're getting distracted."

Napier released her with a sultry smile, and pulled his arms behind his head, casually showing off his biceps. "I look forward to working with you, my dear."

Despite herself, a blush crept over her cheeks and she felt her stomach churn with pesky, flirtatious butterflies. It was these damn criminal-types, they seemed to be the drug she craved.

Soon after that intimate and slightly exhilarating moment, Joker left the group with Cat held roughly at his side. All the way back up to their room, she felt silver eyes boring into her back.