Chapter 12

April 9, 2001 – Monday

Dear Diary,

Life is wonderful!

Today began delightfully, waking up in my own bed, in my own apartment, and this time without any random men rampaging through it. I got up, had some coffee, got dressed, and had a very nice bus ride to work, even if I was dripping wet when I got there. Because it was raining, you know, but such a pretty rain!

I spent two hours of the morning reorganizing Mr. Joker's office (because frankly, doing anything else was completely impossible, with him showing up at my desk every two minutes so I could find something for him), and then I spent another half-hour re-reorganizing it, because I did it wrong the first time.

It's been a while, so it took me some time to remember the right way.

After that, I ran into Danielle in the halls, and she implored me in a whisper to go reorganize the filing system, since Joker had been putting things in the wrong places for the last three weeks, and no one could find anything.

It's so nice to know that you're needed!

Even though it would have been rather nice to get to some of the massive pile of real work that Mr. Joker has apparently been leaving on my desk for the past three weeks.

Groan. So much for time to sleep this week. It'll all go into over-time, just to catch up with all of this work.

For heaven sakes, you'd think the man would have the common sense to—no, I said I was going to appreciate my life, instead of complaining now that it's finally back to its old rhythms of normalcy.

You know, diary dear, one thing still makes me wonder: was Mr. Joker serious when he said that he would like me to model my silly new frilly pink maid dress? Because I was very tempted to bring it to work with me, but I don't know if he meant it, or if he just said it to distract me from breaking something in Mr. Bone's hideout.

And, of course, I couldn't outright ask him!

Being so direct; that just isn't done! Unthinkable, to just walk in and calmly ask him, "Mr. Joker, did you mean it when you said you wanted to see me prance around like a walking maid fetish?" And then he would answer yes, and I would be happy but a little nervous, or he would answer no, and I would be sad but a little relieved. But either way, I wouldn't be wondering anymore!

Well, the problem with that, diary dear, is that wondering and agonizing is half the fun!

Um. Not a very good game, now that I think about it. And after all, Mr. Joker is very reasonable about these things. He's said before that if I ever have a question, I should ask about it right away, instead of doing things wrong because I don't want to bother him with silly inquiries.

Still, I'm sure Sylvie and Julie's hair would both turn white, if they found out that I was even thinking about violating The Code.

And so, I won't. I'll just return to my account of my Very Wonderful Day.

After I reorganized the filing system again (which took a good, long while, as Mr. Joker really is hopeless when it comes to putting things back where they belong), he gave me one of my "little extra projects", which I normally cringe at a little, as they usually involve using "dirty tricks", which, in addition to involving a lot of meticulous work to cover my dirty little tracks, always gives me the uncomfortable feeling of being in an entirely different line of work that involves miniskirts and late nights on the streets in bad parts of town.

But this time it wasn't so horrid, and I didn't have to use any dirty tricks and feel as though I ought to be wearing fishnets. I only had to transfer a lot of Mr. Joker's tiny, cramped, barely readable notes from dozens of Post-Its to computer, and then organize them into some vaguely coherent body of text.

Really, I'm beginning to worry about Mr. Gentleman's health, what with all these mentions of "transferring his personality to another so that we never need be without him." I thought he was feeling better than he had been earlier this year, after he accidentally rolled his wheelchair down a flight of stairs.

Of course, there was the small matter of his going temporarily mad and agreeing to let Joker make me a field agent, but I had put that small matter up to his twisted sense of humour.

Well, he's the only person I know (besides Drake) who finds Saturday Night Live uproariously funny. Of course, it is mildly amusing from time to time, but a steady diet would be nothing short of annoying. Silly American trash. That's what Mr. Joker calls it, you know. But he doesn't tell Mr. Gentleman that. He doesn't like to disagree with him on these things. Or anything else.

If only he could have recalled that a few weeks ago and sensibly agreed that me as a field agent was simply begging for disaster!

Oh, well. It's all over, and I'm home now. And I hope that nothing out of the ordinary happens again for a long, long time. If it doesn't, maybe I'll actually get my desk back in order some time this month, instead of having to peek miserably out at people from behind two gigantic stacks of work!

Unless "something out of the ordinary" involves Mr. Joker having a spare key to my flat and sneaking in someday to do something fun and impetuous that involves our clothes being flung carelessly about.

Oh, dear; the ink is running again. I had managed to avoid that for a while.

And in addition, the telephone is ringing.

Perhaps I ought to go answer it.

Right; off I go, then.

Oh, my.

Giggle-giggle, blush-blush.

That was Mr. Joker on the phone just now. And, as it happens, a Mr. Joker who was very much in earnest when he said he wanted to see the maid outfit.

But not, he emphasized, at work. That would, it seems, be silly and unprofessional. And, it follows, someone else might see, and like it, and he really didn't want to have to kill half his own staff. Elias, he said, had been treading a fine line lately.

Honestly, I do NOT want to know. Is there a normal man around that place?

Still, I am losing focus on the important part: Mr. Joker is going to stop by later, especially to see my new frilly pink maid outfit! I rather wish he hadn't added the bit about his appointment elsewhere being cancelled, and his thus having nothing better to do this evening, but that isn't terribly important.

It seems that Mr. Bone was good for something, after all, God rest his soul.

Oh, I'm so excited! I'm going to change, right now!

Of course, I'm not particularly thrilled about being back in that idiotic outfit, but I am very much looking forward to the possibility of some Fun developing.

Luckily, I thought to wash the silly thing last night in between bouts of being Very Tired.

I wonder if I ought to wear my frivolous, impractical undies with the silly dress.

Hmm. Could've done without the nervousness, honestly.

Alright; I'm going to change, right now.

Your faithful (and very nervous and excited) servant,

Wendy.

April 10, 2001 – Tuesday

Dear Diary,

I'm going to wake up any second now. Life is just too wonderful right now to be real, and the only possible explanation is that it is not real, and I am having a lovely dream, the sort that makes the ink run a lot.

It is currently so late that I have dated this entry as tomorrow, and I'm writing this in bed, by the light of my side-table lamp. Joker, who has requested that I leave off the "Mr." in private henceforth as "it is a little creepy, you know", is already asleep, and looking so nice and peaceful that it's keeping me from acting on the urge to wake him up and try to coax him to…erm, "play" again.

Giggle-giggle…

I suppose I ought to explain what has happened to end this evening with my boss in my bed. It isn't a terribly intuitive leap to assume it, but…well, I want to write it down, to look back on it on bad days!

He came by at about eight-thirty, and he seemed a little surprised that I had the silly dress on already, although I don't think he minded.

At least, judging from the number of times he dropped his keys and waited for me to pick them up for him, while he went around behind me to give me space.

Seemed a little funny, and even through my slightly muddled thoughts at that point, I could tell that it was put on; usually, randomly dropping things is my department.

I thought it was an honest mistake the third time, though (as he had finally gotten the hang of being convincing), so when I straightened up, I turned right around and crashed into him. Hard enough, unfortunately or fortunately, to send us both to the floor, since he was a little off-balance because he hadn't finished straightening up, and he grabbed onto me for support, when I was a little off-balance, too.

I don't know what my neighbours must have thought. I suppose they're used to the series of mysterious thumps drifting from "that silly Wendy girl's" flat.

So, we stayed there for a minute. I think he maybe wanted to get up, but I was too busy snuggling to let him, and before long, he just let me snuggle, and sort of patted my back.

And then he tried to be subtle about his other hand moving toward the bottom of my skirt, which was absolutely adorable! I suppose he doesn't know that it's usually very obvious to a girl when a man has his hand up her dress.

Unless the man is doing it wrong.

Which he very definitely wasn't.

I must have been looking at him oddly, because he gave me this very cute smile that I think was supposed to be seductive, and said he'd thought that, as long as we were down here, we might as well take advantage of it.

And now, dear diary, here we are.

Of course, some things happened in between then and now (quite my favourite part of the evening, to be honest), but this is not THAT sort of diary, and thus I shall refrain from going into full, delicious detail.

At some point, we did move from the floor of my living room, down the hall, to my bedroom, though; that seems innocuous enough a little detail. And I suppose I could describe the kissing – go on for pages about soft lips and warm, mingling breath and such – but I did not go through all those years of schooling to learn how to write romance novels!

Oh, he also thought it necessary to kindly explain to me…ahem…after, that he didn't really have a "maid thing" – that asking me to wear the outfit was really all a ruse, because he thought it was becoming far more distracting to deal with trying to ignore our interest than to act on it.

Honestly, I had figured out all by myself that it was a ruse, and not a symptom of his maid fetish, which, as he explained, doesn't actually exist. If I hadn't, I'd have likely slapped him several times by now upon being told to go fetch the feather duster and get back to work. Instead of cuddling a lot.

There's a bit of a difference between slapping and cuddling, after all.

Again, unless a person is cuddling entirely the wrong way.

And really, I meant to ask him exactly where he got the impression that I had ever tried to ignore my interest. Of course, I did not exactly shout to the skies that I had broken every single rule in the book and fallen for my boss instead of that nice Steve boy on the janitorial staff as any sensible girl would've done, but I didn't try to deny it, and I recall making it decently obvious to anyone paying attention.

Of course, this was partly because I thought he wasn't paying attention.

Until he began letting little hints slip, too. I had honestly thought this was intentional, to see if I was. Paying attention, that is.

Was incredibly surprised to learn that it was not.

Intentional, that is.

I have the oddest feeling that I ought to be uncomfortable with this – I know, academically, that becoming involved with one's boss is the kiss of death to all professionalism. But, honestly, I don't see why, if you don't behave like a complete fool. After all, I won't be silly enough to behave any differently at work. He simply wouldn't tolerate it.

After all, he said that one of the main reasons he finally did something was because it was becoming far too distracting to try to ignore it.

If I were just a little sillier, it might offend me that maintaining professionalism was his strongest motive, instead of my natural beauty and charm and overall irresistibility.

As it is, this all makes perfect sense to me.

Not only this, but I have just noticed him cuddling his pillow, and am now too busy melting into an adoring puddle to be offended by anything in the world.

And now, as I was apparently rather too loud a puddle, I have just been told sleepily to turn off the light and get some sleep.

As I do not want to risk a third man making throwing-out-a-window attempts on my diary, am going to comply.

Your faithful servant,

Wendy

April 11, 2001 – Wednesday

Dear Diary,

Well, the first day has been got through, and no one seems to have noticed anything different.

Am, of course, referring to the newly-begun romantic entanglement with my boss, which I have apparently begun because I am insane.

Yes, that was Julie's professional opinion when she telephoned earlier this evening, and apparently I was in such a good mood that "SOMETHING had to be different!"

Honestly, I like to think that I sound in a decently good mood most of the time, but perhaps I am merely fooling myself.

At any rate, I tried fervently to deny it, but she is as good as I am at finding out things she shouldn't know, and before long, and without any idea how, I had admitted to her that I did, indeed, have Joker over for a "sleepover" last night.

Complete with a pillow-fight, and everything.

Ahem.

So, it follows from this that I am insane, because any sane female would have dealt with their handsome, kind, and wonderful boss's advances by scurrying around the room, shrieking loudly about sexual harassment.

I wonder if she has any idea that I was the one who as good as jumped him, rather than the other way around.

I wonder if I should have told her.

Would've shut her up in a hurry, I think.

Definitely should have told her; there isn't much that can shut Julie up, and the novelty alone would have made it enjoyable

At any rate, aside from the fact that I am insane, and that Julie is going to have Sylvie telephone to knock some sense into me (over the phone – impressive, no?), today was a relatively good one.

As I've said, no one around the Library has guessed that anything has changed, although they could just be keeping quiet for fear that, if angered, I will continue to let Joker file things back himself, just to show them.

That would be quite a punishment, for everyone around there. Myself included, when I finally had to set aside my childish little fit and set the filing stations back to rights myself.

Am glad to report that, due to Joker's having been able to keep his office relatively tidy since yesterday, I was able to get started on the massive pile of work waiting for me on my desk with a wickedly grotesque grin.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Although, by seven this evening, I was sleepy enough that inanimate objects did seem to be randomly making faces at me.

Which eventually led to my running at top speed down the hallway to Joker's office to collect some things I had left there.

Oh, alright, so it was a ruse! I really wanted to be around him, so that he could protect me if the inanimate objects did begin randomly attacking.

Save me, Mr. Joker! Save me from the wrath of the printer! Or I'll save you from the wrath of the printer. Or something.

Still, he was busy, so I stayed long enough to collect my things, and my scattered wits, and then left him in peace.

Then I remembered that just because I wasn't going to start behaving any differently around him now that we are periodically doing Fun Things together, didn't mean I was going to act any differently in the other direction, and completely neglect his well-being in favour of professionalism.

Or something.

Either way, I marched right back into his office and threatened to throw something at him if he didn't go home and get some proper sleep.

Harrumph. He didn't have to laugh quite so heartily at that.

Still, at least he did leave, and even offered me a ride home, looking so altogether hopeful that I felt nearly bad about reminding him that I had brought my own car today. Professionalism, you know. Keep this relationship as hidden as we can keep it.

So, we compromised by going somewhere for dinner.

During which we talked a bit about last night, or at least alluded to it amid a lot of blushing in my case and a slightly embarrassed, but not ill-pleased smile in his, and a lot about what I'd learned in the process of being a field agent for those disastrous three weeks I desperately wish there was some way to strike from my memory.

I wonder why Joker got such a funny expression when I told him that, though…

All in all, the only things I was able to tell him I'd learned for certain is that there are a lot of madmen out there (which I had already known – you don't spend each and every day around some of the people I work with without learning THAT), that I have no natural ability for show-shoeing (which could not possibly matter less to me), and that you apparently don't have to understand a word your date is saying to have a pleasant evening (the nice French man, you know – and as for me, the only thing I know how to say in French is 'yes', which makes me a very agreeable, but not a terribly riveting date).

And I think I can figure out why this gave Joker a slightly strange expression. A different sort of strange. A strange that seemed to imply a hatred of the French, curiously enough.

Giggle-giggle-blush-blush.

And so, dear diary, I am now back at home, and with half of my mind am singing and dancing crazily about in sheer jubilation, while the other half of my mind smarts under the sting of Julie's not-so-nice-to-say-to-your-friend words, not to mention the fact that, as Joker ended up driving me home after all, I am going to be taking the bus tomorrow, and likely arriving to find a parking violation ticket pinned to my windshield for leaving the vehicle there overnight.

Well, having sorted all of this out, I think I shall make my merry way to bed, as it is rather late, as Julie found it necessary to keep me on the phone for rather a long time to properly explain to me all of the reasons that I am stupid for not doing exactly as she would in this situation.

Grr. Stupid friends.

Your faithful servant,

Wendy


End Notes: Shippiness at last! I only hope it wasn't too much. Oh, right; and this is the second-last chapter. But I'm seriously considering a sequel surrounding the events of ROD the TV. Would anyone out there smack me really hard if I decided to do that:op