Celine came to the next morning feeling the most well-rested she'd been in years. It took her a few groggy moments to recall why. When she finally did, she wearily pulled her blanket over her face, feeling a blush come on. Oh willigers, Bruce was going to eviscerate her.

I don't have to tell him.

Her chest tightened in discomfort at this. Bruce was her confidant, her ally, her one unending corner of support. She had to tell him, didn't she?

I'm too tired to accurately answer that.

When she lowered her blanket, she noticed the empty indent next to her. Thank goodness he'd skipped out before she woke up. The consequences of last night wasn't something she was keen on discussing. Not now, perhaps not ever.

Maybe he'll leave it at a quickie. Needed to get it out of his system before he skedaddled off to do what he does best.

Her gut wasn't as convinced.

She exited her bed with a satisfied yawn. The area between her legs was just the right amount of sensitive that rubbing her thighs together felt pleasurable. She couldn't believe he'd actually had the gall to…to…

I need to see Agatha soon, no question about it.

Each run in with Joker had her feeling more and more off kilter. Her intuition was suddenly murky and unreliable. Where once, making decisions for her own well-being was as simple as breathing, now, she couldn't help but feel like she was flirting with a very tangible danger. And though this danger seemed interested in her, to what extent would that interest last? At what point would she become expendable? Would she be ready when the time came?

Upon a perusal of her living room, she noticed her quilt was folded neatly over the back of the couch.

That was…nice of him.

When she investigated her kitchen, she saw her half-full glass and the bottle of fifth by her kitchen sink. She was amazed to find the fifth empty. He didn't strike her as the type to wake up and slam such an amount down. He was much too professional, much too committed to his work to incapacitate himself in such a thoughtless manner.

Which left her with the conclusion that he'd dumped it all down her drain. Why? As a form of apology? So she wouldn't be tempted to give it a go?

When she went to toss the bottle into her trash, she noticed shattered glass. Its appearance combined with her broken handcuffs explained it. He'd used his glass to destroy the chains.

Crafty. For future references, don't leave lying around anything he can use.

She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and grabbed her phone. She'd not checked it since last night's meal.

Her first five messages were courtesy of Aesop.

He's got a locked drawer in his desk. Will try to pick.

-A

Unsuccessful, sorry C. Gotta get out of here before someone notices.

-A

Joker still at yours? Are you okay?

-A

Please be okay. Do you need me to contact Batman?

-A

Boss is back, he's in a scary good mood. Please tell me you're still in one piece. He told me good morning! I dare not ask him why. But Gil – Joker's right-hand man – had us assemble for a briefing last night. J's got something big planned in the coming days. It's all hands-on deck. I like to believe you're still with us. Get back to me as soon as you can. Please be on guard. Our directions were vague. We're supposed to make some deliveries to a few chosen targets. Don't know what packages are or for what purpose.

-A

She hastily texted Aesop back, not wishing to prolong his anxiety.

I'm fine. He escaped during the night. Left me alone, thank goodness.

No one needed to know the specifics of what occurred. Not yet anyway.

Her next message was from Wesley.

Still on for lunch today?

She sent a word of confirmation to meet at 1 while her eyes glanced at the calendar. In less than five days June would be over. It had been a life-rattling month; in some ways she'd aged more over the course of the past few weeks than the last couple of years. Strange how life worked in that regard. The universe sent you someone every now and again to test just how much you really knew about yourself.

Agatha had texted her sometime throughout the night as well, apologizing that her stay would be delayed until the 1st of July. However, as soon as she got back to Gotham, she would let her know. Celine wished her a safe trip back and a reminder that she couldn't wait to see her.

Her final text was from a phone number she didn't recognize. And the number had a photo attachment to it.

She clicked on the message, and then the photo.

Her mouth dropped open.

That motherfucker!

The photo was of her asleep, facing away from the camera. Her pajama bottoms were slid down to her knee and along the curve of her right thigh in purple Sharpie it read:

JOKER WAS HERE

followed by a grotesquely drawn smiley face and a couple of arrows pointing to her private parts.

The message below the photo read:

Talk about blackmail, huh? Talk to ya soon!

She'd never felt such a strong urge to strangle someone. Never.

She sprinted to the half-bath and hesitantly lowered down her pajama bottoms, turning to her right as she did so.

"Son of a bitch!"

He'd actually drawn on her passed out form. IN PERMANENT MARKER. Gods, she didn't have a violent bone in her body, but she was pretty sure his scrawling had instilled one.

She could just imagine him trying to stifle back giggles, tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth. She was honestly surprised she hadn't woken up while he'd done it.

He has my phone number.

Well, that ruled out whatever it is they were doing being no more than a quickie.

As she fumed, Aesop's messages came rushing back to her. She put her irritation on hold to send a text.

Hey Bruce, Aesop gave me a heads up that Joker has something big planned, probably in the next few days. Keep a lookout and be safe.

She hadn't even returned to look at herself in the mirror before he texted back.

Does he have any more specifics?

Only that he and some of the other men have to deliver packages to certain targets. That's all he knew.

When he didn't respond, she let it be. He was no doubt on his way to talk with Commissioner Gordon to see if he'd been privy to any recent activity or information regarding Joker or his men.

The next half hour found Celine beneath a showerhead, scrubbing furiously at the marker on her thigh with a combination of soap, rubbing alcohol, and sheer will. By the time her fingers were pruned up, her skin glowed red. A few faint smudges remained, but for the most part, it had all been scrubbed clean.

After she had toweled herself off and slipped into comfortable clothes, she brewed herself up some extra black coffee and plopped down at the desk in her bedroom, laptop set out before her. It was just shy of eleven-thirty. She had at least an hour to go before she needed to head out to meet Wesley.

She began to work.

By far, Gotham's most popular dating app was one called Moonbeam. It was wildly popular with young and middle-aged adults. The elderly were more than welcome too. 100, if she recalled correctly, was the highest you could set your age as.

She tapped her foot as she worked, lips dancing upward with each stroke of the keyboard. In the background she had GOLD: Greatest Hits by ABBA playing.

Full Name: Joker (JoJo the Clown)

About You: Gotham! I, Joker (AKA JoJo), am in need of a companion. Terrorizing Gotham gets to be so lonely! This is where YOU come in. I am seeking ANYONE in the age range of 30 to 99 (the older the better) to help quell my lonely heart. Beneath the façade of madman, I'm just a sensitive clown in need of some tender loving.

I am thirty-four, I have green hair (don't care), I don't know what toothpaste is (do you eat it?), and I need to find someone who loves Batman just as much as I do. This is a must. If you've never fought Batman, don't even bother messaging.

Occupation: Fighting Batman and blowing stuff up

Interests: Long, romantic strolls through dimly-lit alleyways; Batman; knives; Mariah Carey; lap-dancing (giving); wiener eating competitions; baths with my rubber duckie Dr. Quackie M.D.; picking at scabs, Sephora, My Little Pony, crashing funerals

Dislikes: Scarecrow, mental stability, girl scouts, wazoos, basic hygiene, Commissioner Gordon (especially when he puts me in time out!)

Perfect First Date: You come dressed as Batman, I'm wearing an orange jumpsuit. I throw my drink in your face, you chase me. I wander through alleyways; you don't let up. I hope on top of a dumpster and strip, you throw me $10's and $20's. I hop over you and run, you pursue, I enter an instrument store, you search for me, I grab a bassoon, you grab a trombone, we play "Sweet Caroline" while making bedroom eyes at each other. I stab you with the bassoon, you throw the trombone at me, I evade it, you curse, I run, you follow. I enter a mattress store, so do you, I hop from mattress to mattress, you're not far behind, the floor is lava, you almost get burned, I land on a King, you land on top, we're both panting…I kiss you, you kiss me…we…?

By the time she was finished, Celine was grinning ear to ear. She wouldn't post it. For now. She was aware all that she'd just constructed was a result of agitation in response to his behavior. She didn't like to act from such an aggressive emotion. Better to be level minded.

But still…his profile was funny as shit and it'd be a shame if it never saw the light of day. She'd even chosen a profile photo in which someone captured Batman gut-punching Joker, who was cackling despite the pain. Didn't she promise earlier to make him a dating profile? Yes, and here it was. It was just a matter of time before posting it.

x_X_x_X_x

Wesley was already seated near a babbling brook where dozens of butterflies were weaving along the banks, dipping low to pollinate a seemingly endless row of blue, pink, and orange Hibiscus flowers.

The moment she'd stepped foot in Edenia, Celine's pace had slowed to take everything in. Tropical flowers were sprouted every which way, some she knew like orchids, Hibiscus, and Angel's Trumpets; others she was entirely unfamiliar with. Bumblebees and butterflies flew about, careful to weave between the wicker chairs and wooden tables placed a comfortable distance apart from each other so as to give plants, flowers, and humans space alike. The entrance itself was an arch-shaped vine that had allowed an ivy plant to weave around its entirety.

It was difficult to believe such a serene place could exist in Gotham. She felt like she'd wandered into a fairy tale.

She was careful to watch where she walked in the soft, lush grass so as to avoid accidentally stepping on a butterfly. Sometime before entering the outdoor restaurant, she took off her sandals. Barefoot walking, Agatha had previously mentioned, was one of the best ways to ground yourself. Nothing but feet against Mother Earth; a mutual exchange of energy.

"Hey!" Wesley waved over, setting down his espresso. "So good to see you again."

He stood and wrapped her up in a tight hug, of which she returned.

"Good to see you too, Wes."

They sat at a two-person table. Not shortly after, their waitress set down a water for her as well as a menu.

"What're you going to get?" she asked, perusing the sandwiches.

"I've been staring at this panini since you got here," he said, pointing at the menu. "Been wanting to go here for awhile actually. My sister raved about it for weeks. Then again, it's also where her fiancée proposed to her."

She took another moment to glance around. At most she counted twenty seating options, all of which were full. Intentional, she decided. Any attempt to try to squeeze more into the large green space and they'd be infringing on both plant and animal life.

She turned back to look at Wesley just as a gold and black butterfly landed on the rim of her glass. Its antenneas wiggled as it tip-toed toward her.

When she'd been twelve, her mother had taken her to a butterfly house in North Carolina. It'd been one of the rare trips she'd saved up for from her job at Leo's Diner. Celine had not even been in school two hours before her mother showed up unexpectedly and signed her out for the day. They'd driven along the East Coast, the Atlantic their ever-present companion, stopping at niche gift shops and flea markets along the way.

It was in that butterfly house that Celine first learned the importance of being patient with creatures so much smaller than you. To tread carefully for you shared this Earth with more than just your own two feet. That something so small could carry just as big an impact as you.

She extended her arm toward the glass, not touching it, but letting it linger. Letting the butterfly decide rather than enforcing her will onto it.

The butterfly glanced down at her elongated finger before hopping on to it. Its back legs protruded tiny little hairs that allowed it to grip onto her skin and maintain its position.

Carefully, Celine brought it up to her face, lips splitting into a nostalgic smile.

"Wow," Wesley spoke softly, eyeing the scene. "Our waitress told me the butterflies tend to steer clear of people. Not everyone knows how to be so…calm with them."

"It takes time to learn," she agreed with a soft murmur, watching its wings flutter. "We often forget that just because we're at the top of the animal kingdom doesn't mean we're more important. All species serve a purpose. As the most consciously evolved of them, it's on us to co-exist, not the other way around."

The butterfly seemed to nod at this before shooting off its hind legs and taking off. She watched it, blinking back a few tears that wanted to fall, but she'd not let them. The past could not be returned to, only appreciated for having occurred.

She ended up ordering a spinach, tomato, red onion, and genoa salami sandwich on a toasted brioche bun. And as they ate, they caught up.

Wesley informed her in the time they'd parted he'd become a financial benefactor and teacher at an orphanage in North Gotham. He not only helped keep it run, but updated the orphanage's text books, classroom boards, desks, chairs, and computers (which according to him had yet to catch up to the 21st century).

They wanted to install a plaque at the front of the orphanage with his name on it, to thank him for his generosity, but he'd been, while flattered, extremely uncomfortable with the act. It wasn't for notoriety he'd done it, but to better know Gotham's youth, to educate and inspire despite some of their downtrodden situations. It was one step in the right direction for checking off his bucket list goals, which seemed forever ago he'd whispered into her ear in the basement of St. Genevieve's Parish.

"They uh-." He scratched the back of his head as a bumblebee sailed over his head. "-love hearing the hostage story for some reason. And anytime I tell them what the Joker was like, half are in awe and half are scared witless. I'm some sort of hero to them. It's...bizarre."

Her stomach was in knots as he relayed this. What would happen if they met her and she recounted her own experiences? Would she be hero or villain in their eye?

She took her last bite, licking at her thumb as she did so.

"What about you, Celine? What've you been up to? What's July got in store for you?"

Well, I tied the Joker up in my house and he escaped, slipped into my bed, and fingered me. Besides that, you know, the usual.

She coughed, taking a sip of her water.

"My friend Agatha is coming back on the first, so I'm excited to see her. She um…owns a…kind of a new age shop, but less…pretentious. Sells spell books, crystals, meditation guides, incense, sage, tarot cards…all that jazz. It's for people who practice or are practicing at home. Spirituality tends to get a bad rap. Those who claim to be enlightened can't go two seconds without telling someone about being enlightened. True spirituality is…personal. Between you and your soul. It's a solo journey and I've uh…sorta stalled on mine. I need her to help me get back on track."

"I've never been in one before," he admitted. "What's hers called?"

"House of Intuition. A little…theatrical sounding, but you immediately feel calm when you're inside. Agatha is good at getting people started on their spiritual journey or answering any questions they have. She's eternally patient like that. Like…a second mother."

Wesley smiled at that.

"Well, you've convinced me to at least stop by. I have great reverence for the Dalai Lama and the way he articulates what spirituality means and the importance of cultivating it. Maybe it's about time I stop focusing on admiring figures like him and start trying to be like them."

"That's an idea," she encouraged, leaning back. "I um…I also have my birthday coming up, but not until later in the month."

Wesley sprang up in his seat, eyes wide.

"When?!"

"July 22nd."

He was contemplative for a long moment, chin resting on his intertwined fingers. His eyes then lit up.

"What?" she laughed.

"I know what to get you as a present."

"There's no need. A simple birthday card will suffice."

He shook his head.

"No way! You're friends with Bruce Wayne. Surely, he goes all out."

"He's attempted to," she admitted. "The first year I knew him, he bought me a small private island off the coast of Costa Rica. I politely had it refunded. He knows now to keep it simple."

"But what if…what if it's not just a present for you, but for me too?"

"I'm not following."

He brought his hands up, as if he were expecting her to decline.

"Hear me out. Ever since our whole hostage ordeal, I've been…proactive in doing what I've always wanted to, but never had the courage or confidence to go through on. Life is fleeting, that's what that experience taught me." He leaned forward, though everyone else was too far away to hear. "I was going to hold it off until September, but with it being your birthday soon and with it being, well, you…I couldn't think of a better time, nor companion."

She cocked her head, still not entirely sure what he was talking about.

"I'm going on a three-month excursion around the world. To see what I nearly never got the chance to because I let uncertainty hold me back. Two weeks in South America, two weeks in Europe, three weeks in Asia, three weeks in Africa, a week and five days in Australia and the Oceanic/Pacific Island countries, and two days in Antarctica on a research base my father got me permission to stay at. He'd gone to school with a classmate that's stationed out there." He looked at her expectantly. "Come with me. Start your-how old will you be?"

She answered as if she were lost in a fog.

"Thirty-two."

"Start off your thirty-second unlike any other year of your life," he encouraged. "You're an adventurer, Celine. Just like me. We've been contained to Gotham for so long we not only nearly died but forgotten there's a whole planet for us to see. To explore. People to meet. Cultures to integrate into. Histories to learn. Experiences to be had. I knew I was waiting for something. For someone. You're it. Let this be my birthday gift to you. Come with me."

It took a few seconds to process the gravity of all that he'd said. And was it awful of her that she couldn't find many reasons to say no? All that he'd hit upon…feeling claustrophobic in this city, the yearning to explore on a greater scale, see history, experience more than just what they'd been used to for so long…create memories and embark on adventures…

She had opened her mouth for a reason in that basement. He had poured into her his hopes and dreams, many of which mirrored hers. It was no coincidence they now sat here, him offering her the opportunity of a lifetime. Turning thirty-two…still an age young enough to throw caution to the wind and live life to its fullest while her health remained. She didn't have too many years left where such circumstances would be in her favor.

But it'd all be on such short notice. I mean-within next month! I have to make sure my passport is still up to date. And arrange plans, and plans for those plans just in case an issue comes up with the app. I might have to give up the apartment. I certainly don't plan on paying those three months of rent while I'm away. I need to pack and see my finances and get the proper adapter cords and debit cards. Make sure I'm up to date on all my immunization shots. I'll be away from Agatha and The Cheekbones and John and Bruce and Jac-.

She froze, feeling as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on her.

Wesley noticed her lack of movement. He waved a tentative hand in front of her face.

"I don't know," she finally said, snapping out of it. "It's all on extremely short notice. I can't promise I'll have everything arranged by then. Plus…in mid-August I do an annual road trip back home to Maine for a weekend. See friends and relax at my old house. I'd…hate to miss that."

"Is there any way to postpone it?" he asked hopefully. "Or maybe take it sometime earlier in July?"

"It's…possible."

"And I'll help you with arranging everything. Bruce will help you. He goes above and beyond when it comes to you."

You don't know the half of it.

"Let me ask you something." He brought his hands together, eyeing her seriously. "Do you have any issue packing up all your clothes and sight-seeing the world for three months? Is there anything holding you back in Gotham? Anyone?"

"No," she said slowly, realizing this was the truth. "I'm not native to this city. All the family I've made have been through friends and I know they'll be waiting for me when I get back."

"All the more reason to say yes."

When she didn't answer right away, Wesley leaned back and shook his head.

"Sorry," he said, running a hand through his black hair. "I got a little carried away. I didn't mean to pressure you. It's just that…I don't believe in coincidences. This is going to sound sappy, but we were meant to cross each other's path."

He continued studying her.

"I don't need an answer today. Or tomorrow or next week. Just…think on it." He peered around at the green grass and blue sky with puffs of white clouds sailing by. "I swear…we were put on this planet to explore it. It's only greed and borders that keep us from doing so. I've had the privilege to be born into money, something I am never not aware of. It's a careful balance between giving to others and living for yourself without guilt. Personally, I think you've done more than your fair share of giving. You were willing to risk your own life for me without hesitation. I just…I want to do something for you. Something you could benefit from…if only you'd be willing to take the leap."

She was touched by the words, genuinely on the verge of saying yes.

But it was worth sleeping on. Her emotions were wired and hectic. As she'd experienced earlier in the day, a level mind would help her come to a wiser decision.

"I'll consider it," she promised. "You'll have an answer at least a week ahead of time. When were you planning to take off?"

"Well, I figured I'd let you enjoy your birthday, and we head off the day after."

She nodded.

"Thank you, Wesley. It's…a very thoughtful gift."

"I owe you my life," he said. "Why not make the best of it?"

On the way home Bruce had texted her asking if he could stop by her place. He hadn't given any specifics, which made her slightly nervous. Her night with Joker still weighed heavy in her chest. Should she or shouldn't she say something? Could her friendship endure such secrecy?

He was waiting in his car by the time her taxi arrived.

"You look like hell," she commented as they made their way into her building.

"Feel it," he mentioned beside her, slipping his hands into his pockets. "This Aesop guy…mention anything else?"

"He's been silent. I'm guessing it's too risky to text. Might not be able to until this whole ordeal is over."

He massaged his face as she unlocked her door.

"His intel was sound," he informed, following her in. "Gordon caught one of Joker's trucks. He wasn't there, but eleven of his men were. They were stocked to the brim with AK-47's. They uh…"

He looked down at his feet, shoulders tensing.

"What is it?"

She longed to nibble at her fingernails but didn't care to make him more nervous than he was.

"They killed themselves before police could swarm in. It was…not a pleasant sight."

Her heart stuttered.

"Did you see the bodies?"

He nodded grimly.

"Did any of them have black hair, most likely combed to the side like Elvis Presley? Silver streak through it."

"None," he confirmed, instantly easing her. "They were all younger guys. Gordon said a lot of them were recent prisoners that'd been released. I think…I think he knows we're on to him and that truck was a diversion."

She slumped into her couch, patting the cushion next to her for him to sit. He did so just as tiredly.

They were silent for a long while, staring blankly at the television.

When he glanced at her he noticed tears glistening her cheek.

"Hey." He turned to her, brushing a few loose with his thumb. "We'll figure it out. We've always managed to subdue him in the end."

She shook her head, breaking free of his caress.

"He…was here last night."

He stiffened, hand hovering at her cheek.

"Come again?"

"When I got back home he was waiting for me. I shot him with the taser gun and …restrained him to the fire pole."

He looked at the pole, as if seeing it for the first time.

"Why didn't you call me?"

His tone was thankfully not as accusing as she worried it'd be.

"I wanted to know why he was having me followed. I promise, I planned to hand him over after. He…escaped before I got the chance."

He didn't say anything for a moment.

"Did you find out?"

She shrugged.

"I don't know. He said it was because he wanted to. Offered no explanation beyond that." She hugged herself. "I feel awful. And I'm going to feel worse if he does something that pulls in a high kill count."

He sighed and leaned back into the couch, maintaining his focus on her.

"You and him." She could tell he was searching for the right words. "You're fascinated by one another."

She didn't bother arguing the obvious, missing Bruce's lingering gaze on the newly bloomed hickeys scattered along her neck.

"While I don't condone it, you're also a big girl. And you got out in one piece, so you must have done something right. I wish you would have called, but I get it." He didn't sound happy about it, but such was burden of being her friend. "First Scarecrow, now Joker. You sure know how to pick them."

He was trying to make light of the situation, but all it did was make her feel worse.

Sensing this, he pulled the quilt out from behind them and wrapped it around them. One hand slipped around her side and pulled her into him, letting her head rest on his chest. They stayed that way for close to a half hour, saying nothing, doing nothing, just using the other as a well-needed vessel of support.

"I have to get going soon," he mumbled, peeking down at her. "See if Gordon's picked up anything else."

"Stay safe, please," she murmured. "If this ends up being bigger than you can contain…don't try to go it alone."

She realized she must have sounded like a hypocrite right then. Cautioning him to be wary when she'd been just as careless.

"Do you hate me?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, dreading his response.

"You'll have to try a lot harder than that to get me to hate you."

His smile eased her. She brought him in for a tight hug, not wanting to let go. If she let go, she might never get him back.

"Love you, Bruce."

"Love you too, Celine."

Hours after he'd left, she was practically snoozing on the couch, a stream of drool trickling from the corner of her lip. She'd been glued to the local news channels, waiting for any sort of anomaly to grace the screen. Anything that would give her a heads up as to what was coming.

Her phone dinged, startling her out of her near catatonic state.

The phone number she was coming to recognize as Joker's, sent her another text. She almost wanted to block his number but was worried she'd miss something crucial regarding his intentions.

Watch Channel 5 tomorrow morning ; )
I'll see ya after the fun is over. Keep Sally on ya!

She thought to pester him for more information, but knew it'd be pointless. He shared only as much as he cared to, nothing more nothing less.

With a defeated sigh, she turned off the TV, the lights, and went to her room, fully ready to pass out in hopes of having enough energy to handle what was to come the following day.

Hmmm...let's see what Joker has up his sleeve. And how Celine will handle it!
Thank you for all the lovely reviews, I'm having a lot of fun writing for y'all.