It took a couple of weeks before life returned to a semblance of normalcy for Celine. The City Council scandal was being milked for all it was worth, so when Bruce dropped her off at home – a former firehouse station that'd been remodeled to house eight apartments – she was relieved to find there were zero reporters lingering about.
As a precaution, any time she chose to step out and wander the city she did so tucked beneath a black, non-descript baseball cap, a pair of rectangular sunglasses, and a dark blue sweatshirt. She resembled the common Gotham citizen, and was hardly spared a second glance.
While at Bruce's, she had begun brainstorming the outline for a new essay currently in its rough draft stage. She was ideally hoping to submit it to an academic journal at GIT. Despite her shameful exit from the school, her success with her app reignited a relationship between her and the Dean – a stern, no nonsense woman named Gwyneth Hass. She would occasionally ask Celine to come be a guest speaker during entrepreneur-based events, paying handsomely as a result. It's how a bulk of her rent and extra-curricular expenses were paid.
They were in the tail end of June and Gotham was simmering beneath a sweltering heat wave. This allowed Celine to take advantage of her friendship with a motel owner a couple of blocks from her house – Arash. She would begin her mornings writing, spend noon grabbing a bite to eat, pop by Arash's motel during the hottest time of the day, take a dip, clear her head, then return home to write; finishing off the evening with a late meal while watching whatever caught her interest on TV.
At some point during these two weeks she had begun to suspect she was being watched. Her shoulders would suddenly tense up, as if someone was running their fingernails along them, and her eyes would discretely peruse her environment. She never caught anyone overtly staring, but her hand would tighten around the taser gun in her holster each time it happened until the feeling dispersed.
Bruce had taken to texting her daily just to make sure she was doing okay. She appreciated the gesture though it felt much like having an overprotective babysitter. Sometimes she would turn off her phone just to have some peace.
Speaking of, she'd texted John's burner phone asking if he'd be willing to meet. She wanted to express in person her gratitude for his help. For doing the right thing even if it meant pissing off Joker. She had also gotten him a gift- one of the original editions of Myth & Meaning by anthropologist Claude Levi-Strauss, autographed by him personally. Prior to her introduction of the book to his arsenal, John had been law-abidingly skeptical when it came to mythology. If it could not be proven it held no credibility. Levi-Strauss's approach seemed to have broadened his views to the necessities of myths as a means of understanding ourselves and our place in the world.
She was a little worried when he never texted back. She guessed he was laying low what with a target being painted on his back both by Joker and Batman.
Her next order of business was to see Agatha again. Unfortunately, she was out of town visiting family and wouldn't be back until the end of June. She couldn't wait to see the woman. The encounter with Joker had dislodged her spiritually somewhat. It was difficult to put into words, but something...something felt out of balance internally.
On top of being owner of her store – House of Intuition – Agatha also did tarot card readings in the back of her shop. Due to their tight acquaintance, her readings were free, though she made it a point to make purchases in the store as well. Its presence in Gotham was invaluable, and she was happy to support Agatha.
The main thing she really wanted to know was if she and Joker would cross paths again. With the feeling of being watched only growing stronger by the day, she needed to be prepared.
Nearly three weeks after her rescue and Celine was arriving at the community theatre near her home. It was just past seven in the evening and the first round of improv games were set to begin. The group that hosted these – The Cheekbone Factory – were comprised of eleven non-classically trained actors, some of whom did stand-up comedy on the side. The general public was invited to participate, and tonight the turn out was healthy. She counted at least thirty-seven people.
It was the first time she'd set foot in the theatre since her captivity and she was immediately swarmed by the main members of the group as well as a few regulars.
"You're looking decent for someone that was held hostage by that madman," Sam, one of the founding members, noted.
She accepted a series of hugs. For just under a year she'd been acquainted with the group and by now they felt like extended family.
With that said, she was a little overwhelmed by their somber expressions. It was as if they were gathering for a funeral rather than an evening of games and laughs.
Very nearly could've been. Let's start this night out right. What is it Joker famously asks everyone?
"You guys ah-." Her voice descended into a scratchy tone. She shook her head a little, setting loose a few strands of hair. "-wanna know how I got my scar?"
The looks she received nearly made her question her own sanity. But she kept composure, offering them a crooked grin and a few bats of the eyelids.
"Sure!" someone answered, a little too enthusiastically.
Celine lifted her sleeve to display the healing cut she'd received during their spar. It looked like it wouldn't be disappearing anytime soon. She'd have this reminder for most her life that she tangoed with the Joker and lived to tell about it.
"Sexy," Stephanie - a long-time regular - noted. "The Gotham Inquirer said he kept you as a hostage because secretly you're his lover."
She rolled her eyes as a few chuckles rang out. Slowly but surely, gaiety was refilling the theatre again.
"They've gotta have sore arms over there with all the reaching they do for a story." She held up an index finger. "They're also lucky I don't take things personally enough to sue them for libel. I doubt they could survive another lawsuit."
"You underestimate the stupidity of Gotham's citizens," Anton, a Swedish export, added. "They feel entitled to your experience, with little care if it comes from your mouth or not. Staying silent is an invitation for them."
"My experience was pretty lackluster," she reassured, deliberately choosing not to linger on her more...provocative encounters with Joker. "But if you guys want an exclusive, I'll dish it. Yes, God yes! He is my lover and I am his." She emitted a breathy sigh, bringing her hands together and sliding them beneath her cheek. "Secretly he's a big ole softy. He's also bipolar. When he commits crimes, it's his alter ego. Oh, and also...he has a nine-inch cock. It's why he struts around like he owns Gotham. Man is packing heat in more ways than one."
Everyone stared at her as if she were telling the truth. It made her bite down on the inside of her cheeks.
Gullible. Nearly as bad as the guys at Inquirer.
"You're pretty damn weird," Anton finally spoke up. "It wouldn't surprise me."
Before anyone else could chime in, she snapped her fingers three times.
"Let's get this show on the road before I call him to come bomb this place. With you all in it."
This had the intended effect.
They made their way to the center stage beneath a beaming spotlight. Five hundred seats surrounded them in a semi-circle, including a balcony section. The feeling of being watched returned, but Celine chose to shake it off. She was among friends. Even if her suspicions were correct they would never get the chance to get close enough to try something.
Hopefully.
They all formed one massive circle and got to work on some exercises. Two hours later and Celine was nearly in tears.
Anton and Sam started out with a skit in which Anton was interviewing Sam's character for a news segment. Sam delved into a story in which a gang of eleven owls grabbed his father by the shoulders and flew away with him, never to be seen again. He burst into heaving sobs by the end of it, manically crying "Papaw, papaw, I still don' look for you in the night skies!"
Anton upped the ante by revealing it was he who had commanded the owls to take his Papaw because Sam's Papaw was also his and he figured Sam had had enough time with him. They ended the segment with a one-legged fight. Literally, they could only stand on one leg as they attempted to throw a series of increasingly wild punches at each other.
What made Celine nearly keel over from laughter was a skit involving herself and Stephanie. They were two women who'd not seen each other since high school graduation and chose to get some coffee at a café to catch up.
Celine launched into the story of how she'd dropped out of college to become an actress, but all she could get were minor adult film rolls. In particular she recalled being credited as Chinese Delivery Worker in a film called Mass Orgy 6: The Pussy Strikes Back. She explained she started off the film delivering Chinese food to an extravagant mansion a la Bruce Wayne's. She liked to get into character for the role so asked the director what specifically she was delivering to the orgy. You know, for accuracy purposes.
The director had only responded with "Seventeen eggrolls." No rice, no chicken, no stir fry. Seventeen eggrolls. Their purpose made her wonder which hole they were meant to be inserted into.
She struggled to get that line out with a straight face. Around her she could hear palm-covered snickers.
Stephanie asked her how many were in attendance for the orgy.
"Well, it's sorta like the Human Centipede films," she recalled. "They're always trying to upstage the previous film. This time I think it was...a hundred and seven."
She went on to say that no one answered the door when she knocked, so she tossed the delivery box down beneath a nearby window, jumped on top, and peeked in.
"Now lemme tell ya something," she shook her head vehemently, eyes alight. "When you're witnessin' a hundred and seven people having sex with each other, your gaze sorta ping pongs around. You don't know what to take in, there's so much happening at once. It was Circus du Soleil up in the motherfucker. Acrobatics and contortionists and shit. And ya feel...ya feel...I was the only one hired who wasn't participating. Ya feel left out, truthfully. Am I not attractive enough? Did I piss off the director? Maybe I can...wiggle my way in when no one's paying attention and get in on the action. It was a blow to the Ego, I won't lie."
Stephanie was notoriously brilliant at maintaining a straight face, but even she was having a hard time. On a couple occasions, the muscles in her face started twitching without permission.
"What about you?" Celine asked. "What've you been up to?"
"Well, I'm sure yah noo-tice the black eye." She'd settled on a brash Sheffield accent, briefly pointing at her socket. "Got in a bit of a tiff with me mate Shereen. Police got 'nvolved, we were both required to attend an-gah management classes."
"Oh? What ever on Earth happened?"
"Well," she twirled her hand, "'er Mum and me Da' 'ooked up. Then Da cheated on 'er. Shereen was a bit miffed 'n one evenin' we we're 'avin' a night out at the poob, snortin' some powdered sugar in the loo, 'n she was gabbin' like she does when she gets fooked up. 'Ccusin' my Da of ruinin' her Mum's life. 'Nd I tried t'a be nice 'bout it, but she was yammerin' and cursin' and lookin' to pick a fight. Finally, she said somethin' that really set me off. 'N I was wearin' a skirt without any knickers, 'avin' just started me period. So, I reach in between me legs, yank out me tampon like I'm fookin' rippin' out Excalibur, and toss it at 'er. Hit her right in her gabbin' mouth, blood sprayin' 'er like a fookin' 'ose."
Celine tried to discretely hide her mouth behind her hand, not trusting herself to submit to the fit of giggles pressing against the back of her throat. God, she missed this.
"'Nd then she sorta screamed like a banshee 'n flung 'erself at me, poppin' me square in the eye with 'er ring fingah. Took five grown men t'a pry her off meh. Couldn't help it tho. She was pushin' me over the fookin' line. Girl's gotta make a point."
Her bottom lip was wobbling. Stephanie's eyes were urging her to break character despite wearing a stoic frown.
"I'd say you made it," she answered, just barely composing herself. "I'd have killed ya 'n dumped your body in the Thames."
"It'da been worth it."
Someone finally succumbed to a fit of giggles, though, it came from the balcony above. She peered up into the darkness, but everyone else's laughter soon drowned out the phantom's.
Where do I know that voice from?
It wasn't Joker's. When she'd tickled him, his laughter came out unhinged, like the shrieking conductor of a train named MANIA.
No, this was much richer, straight from the bottom of the belly.
As their group slowly began to disperse for the night, Celine lingered back, taking her time saying goodbye. Nights like these made her so grateful to have the freedom and friends she did. She'd actually tried a handful of times to get Bruce to come to one of these meetings. Sometimes, he took himself much too seriously.
His response was to humor her with a polite smile and an evasive "maybe".
When the last of the Cheekbone members had left, she stood still at the center of the stage, staring up at the balcony.
"I know you're there," she stated, voice echoing off the walls. "I know you've been watching me. And I indirectly know Batman. Either show yourself or risk pissing me off. You. Don't. Want. To. Piss. Me. Off."
She said this with way more confidence than she felt. That she was being observed and not the observer was never a feeling she was fully comfortable with. Perhaps it was her animal instincts kicking in? Recognizing herself to be in a moment of uncertainty, of sightlessness to what gazed at her; it was a deep-seeded response to make herself into more of a threat than she actually was.
It seemed to take forever before she heard footsteps approach the staircase. By the time the figure had fully descended them, she had her taser gun extended, safety disengaged.
Out from the shadows stepped Aesop, wearing a sheepish grin and throwing her a wave.
Her brows knitted together. Slowly, she lowered the weapon.
"What are you doing here?"
He stopped a healthy distance away, eyes flicking down to her weapon.
"Uh...I was in the neighborhood?"
She arched a brow.
"Pretty convenient neighborhood."
He shrugged, wiping at the back of his neck.
"That was really good," he deflected, gesturing toward the stage. "You guys should be performing for a larger audience instead of these bullshit musicals Gotham is eating up."
She mirrored his shrug.
"Our humor isn't for everyone." She cocked her head. "You've been watching me."
He seemed to debate whether to argue it or not. A grave sigh exited him.
"Not by choice," he admitted. "Um...Joker appointed me the task of following you."
Upon noticing her widened eyes, he elaborated.
"Nothing invasive like breaking into your apartment. Long-distance recon. Where you go. What you do. Who you interact with."
She frowned.
"Why?"
"I can't tell you. I've been wondering myself. He's been...weird lately. Well, weirder. Less prone to anger, which is weird for him. He chose me I think because he knows I'd never slip up and hurt you. Though, he also told me to keep my dick inside my pants otherwise he'll cut it off and feed it to me."
She snorted, lips twitching at the image of Joker dangling Aesop's sliced pecker over his mouth.
"What I'm doing constitutes as stalking, I know," he said. "I don't feel good about it. But I'd also like to stay alive. If this is what I have to do, so be it."
She re-holstered her taser gun and ran a hand through her hair.
"Do you think he's planning to kidnap me again?"
"I can't say."
"Do you think he's planning to hurt me?"
"I hope not."
"Find out. Please?"
At his hesitance, Celine approached him, pausing only when she was an arm's distance to him.
"Please, Aesop. I- I get why you couldn't help me when I was a hostage. You would have signed your death warrant. But not knowing what he has planned...it's the closest to fear I'm capable of feeling. He's not like you or I. His reasoning does not come from a place of logic. I need to be prepared."
His nod was tentative.
"Take a stand." She reached out and softly grasped his shoulder. "You are under no obligation to be this man anymore. This...coward Joker's molded. You have a choice. I'm here to remind you you're still human. You can still find your way back."
His smile wavered. He set his palm overtop her hand.
"You make it all sound so easy."
She tilted her head.
"It's easier than you think."
Huffing, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone.
"Pop your digits in," he said. "I'll see what I can find out and text you when I have the chance."
She accepted the phone with a grateful smile. Upon opening the main screen, her mouth dropped open.
"You filmed us?"
He laughed a little.
"Well...I texted Joker that you had this tonight and he demanded that I do. But like I said earlier, you guys were really funny. Your friend Stephanie I think you guys called her? She single at all?"
"I'm afraid to say yes."
"Was just wondering."
He was terrible at playing coy.
"I have a friend who published an app earlier this year," she said. "I'm going to download it onto your phone. It's coded in such a way that it actually moonlights as a house and landscaping app. Something subtle that doesn't catch the eye; neutral so either gender would have it. Special links hide your contacts...he actually created it to help victims of domestic violence. Consider it a fail safe just in case Joker gets suspicious and searches your phone."
"Good thinking. Thank you." He was silent as she went to the app store. "I uh...I like your app by the way. Had the chance to download it after I had some downtime at the new headquarters. I wish I would have had something like it when I was younger."
"Exactly why I created it," she admitted.
After the app was downloaded, she went in and entered her number.
"My messages will be sent to you as software update reminders."
He nodded, accepting back his phone.
"I still...have to follow you," he said awkwardly. "Just to maintain credibility."
"It's okay. There's worse people to be stalked by. Your boss hovers at the top of that list."
She frowned.
"By chance, have you heard anything about Jonathan Crane? He's not answered any of my texts. Has Joker-?"
"Not that I'm aware of. Crane's been dead silent. Either he's deep underground for the time being or he's working on his serum."
"Thank you." She shifted in place. "I...I know I'm asking a lot out of you. Betraying your allegiance, lying, snooping. I know the risk you run should Joker find out. And it only makes me all the more appreciative. Thank you, Aesop."
She offered him a hug of which he accepted, his chin coming to rest on her head. It wasn't until the physical embrace did he realize he hadn't been touched in years. He forgot how good it felt. How soothing.
"Be careful," she murmured into his chest.
"You too," was his soft answer back.
x_X_x_X_x
Two days passed of silence on Aesop's end. She could still detect she was being watched, but the same apprehension from before was nowhere to be found. Instead, it felt like she had a guardian angel off in the distance, keeping tabs on her.
She'd made the poor decision to tell Bruce about her encounter with Aesop. In the time she'd known him she'd never seen his eye twitch in such a violent manner. She was glad she chose a crowded pizzeria at the height of rush hour. The patrons were the only things keeping him from having a more...dramatic response.
"This isn't good, Celine."
"Oh, did you think I was telling you this information because I'm thrilled?" she whispered back with a stormy look. "I know it's not good. But I handled it as well as I could've. And we have Aesop on our side."
"What makes you think you can even trust him?"
"The same way I know I can trust you. There's good in him. I'm slowly bringing it out."
He wearily massaged his face, shaking his head.
"Come stay with me."
"I can handle myself," she assured. "I have protection and I have you as a protecter."
"You'd be protected much better where I can keep an eye on you."
She sighed, no longer hungry for their deep dish.
"I know Rachel's death hit you hard." He flinched at the acknowledgement. "And losing Harvey to Arkham jaded you. I know you're holding on to me so tight because you have a history of losing people to him. Friends, lovers, colleagues. I'm blessed that you hold me in such high regards, but I'm not afraid of him. Uneasy, unnerved, yes, but not afraid. I don't intend to let him take me a second time around. He responds favorably to those who aren't afraid. A lack of fear is probably why he didn't kill me. Why he likes having you as a playmate so much. I can handle myself, I promise."
His shoulders slumped in resignation. He knew she was right but wasn't keen on admitting it.
"Let me meet this Aesop," he said, not sounding happy about it. "If we're putting your life in his hands, I need to make sure they won't strangle you when you're least expecting."
"Is my word not enough for you?"
She was just a little offended.
"You know I'm stubborn," was his smirking defense.
She grumbled back a response he chose not to ask her to repeat.
Regaining a bit of her appetite – clashing with Bruce always seemed to work up one – she chewed her slice of pizza thoughtfully.
"I know you don't like me talking about him and our uh...association," she started out, glancing at him from beneath her lashes. "But have you gotten word as to John's whereabouts?"
She almost regretted asking. It was no secret how Bruce felt about the Scarecrow. She suspected it was less that he was a villain bent on terrorizing Gotham but more that he'd successfully made Bruce truly afraid down to his core via his serum. Few were capable of such a task.
She'd tried to explain to him numerous times the nature of their relationship. He he had the decency to listen all the way through, keeping his displeasure to a minimum.
She also suspected this most recent encounter with him – the divulgement of her location so he could save her – had ever so slightly lessened his detest of him.
"He's gone MIA and it makes me nervous," he admitted. "He can't go a week without plotting something."
She nodded, unhappy with the news. If Joker had somehow gotten his hands on him she might snap and kill him out of sorrow. She liked to think she'd show restraint, mercy, but you never truly knew until you were in the moment how you would respond to the death of a loved one.
After they had gotten takeout boxes, she followed Bruce to his car and got in.
"Just...be careful," he reiterated, starting the engine. "I know I sound like a broken record but you're one of the few people I have left. If...if anything should happen please don't hesitate to call me."
She reached out her hand and offered it to him. He grasped it softly.
"I will."
He released her before pulling onto the street.
"You know," he said after a moment, "I should check your building for apartment vacancies. If you won't come to me, I'll come to you. We'll be building buddies."
"One, terrible joke. And two, don't ever say "building buddies" ever again."
His deep chuckle produced a reluctant smile from her.
Thank you all for your continued support. Sorry my sense of humor is like this :'D