Celine was a master at playing dumb and playing dumb is exactly what she did the next morning when the nurse walked into her room with breakfast. She first stared at the hole in the door, then the discarded handle on the floor, before eventually resting her – bless her soul – perplexed gaze on the chocolate pudding stain on the wall.

"I have no idea," she input before the nurse could inquire. "I woke up to this. Your guess is as good as mine."

"Didn't the officer see something?"

From the crack in the door, she was able to glimpse the same police officer who had monitored her room pre-Joker's interference. That he was still alive eased her considerably. She hadn't put it past Joker not to kill him. Then again, he probably didn't want to arouse any suspicion what with Gordon being so adamant in catching him.

"There was a different one last night," she replied. "I was out like a light by ten. Sorry."

Her nod was slow.

"Dr. Ensinger will be by shortly with your discharge papers."

She sat the tray on her lap and gently took her right arm, sliding the IV needle out of her vein.

Just before she went to leave, her eyes roved overtop Celine's head. Having just woken up recently herself, she hadn't had the chance to scoop up the halo of dahlias Joker christened her with.

She's going to be stumped on this one for a while, poor dear.

Thankfully, she didn't comment; merely shaking her head, picking up the door handle, and exiting the room.

Celine slid the tray off her and slipped out of bed to grab her phone. That's what had pulled her out of slumber to begin with. Her text tone had dinged three times in a row.

When she read the number assaulting her so early with messages, she sighed and stared hopelessly up at the ceiling.

He didn't get enough of me last night? Sheeeeeesh, I'd have thought he'd wait a few days at LEAST.

Sighing, she returned to the bed and focused on her breakfast. His messages could wait. Today would prove to be a taxing day, she could feel it already in her bones. She deserved at least a few moments of bliss before having it disrupted, didn't she?

It was only when she had a banana left on her tray to eat that she finally bit the bullet and pulled up Joker's messages.

The first one read:

Mooooorning gorgeous! How about a joke?
What do you call a cheap circumcision?

Her brows drew together.

Half off snip and clip?

The second message was the punchline:

A rip off!

She involuntarily snorted. For as foreign and difficult to grasp as he was, he was still a man. And men, no matter the age, would always find dick jokes funny.

The last message was a video with one sentence attached.

I wasn't the only one to have a BLAST last night!

She opened the video and played it.

He must have recorded it sometime after leaving the hospital. It was still night and he was crouched kitty corner from a four-door black Buick parked off the street of an expensive looking condo. The car's trunk was open, but Joker's hand shook so erratically that it took her some time to realize it was stuffed with moving boxes.

"C'mon, c'moooon," Joker was muttering under his breath, visibly excited.

Which most likely meant she wasn't going to like what would happen next.

Her heart lurched at seeing James Silverra exit his home and deposit one final box into the trunk before slamming it shut. He casted a last-minute glance at the condo before making his way to the driver's side. She was shaking her head frantically as he got in and put his key into the ignition. The second he tried to start the car, it erupted into flames; shards of metal flying every which way. A plume of smoke and fire tore through the sky like an angered dragon.

Joker zoomed in on the fire and the former councilman seat-belted inside, flesh and bone rapidly eroding away. He then turned the camera to focus on himself, speaking into it diagonally.

"Can't save everyone, sweets. I'd ah consider him fired, how about you?"

The last ten seconds of the video was just him cackling in response to his own joke, before the video went dead.

She shakily set the phone down, pressing both palms together.

"God damn it."

Should she send the video to someone? Would it help? Would it matter? No doubt the media had already covered the event to its potential. It didn't take too much brain power to conclude who the culprit was.

Why would he send me the video? To brag? To remind me that going against him is pointless?

Her musings were disrupted by Dr. Ensinger's arrival.

"And how are we feeling today? Still stiffness in the right-hand fingers?"

"I've been doing some of the exercises you showed me. I think it's helping; they move a little easier. I'm still a bit sore, but it isn't so bad that I can't focus on anything else."

"That's encouraging to hear." He handed her a file. "I've got your discharge slips in here. Your prescription is already called in and ready for you to pick up. Just as a reminder, in six to eight weeks' time I'll need you to come back so I can remove the stitches. Monitor it in that time period and call if you suspect it's either infected or the stitches tore."

The request knocked loose something she'd been meaning to ask.

"There's a chance I might be out of the country the tail end of July and all of August and September."

"Ah." He straightened. "In that case inform your health care provider and make sure if you do travel, you have your insurance card on you. Where are you going if I may ask?"

Her lips twitched.

"Everywhere. All seven continents."

His brows rose.

"How exciting, plan to hit every country or just a chosen handful?"

"That…I don't know."

"Well, if you happen to stop by in the Bavaria part of Germany, I'd recommend going on a tour of the Neuschwanstein Castle. I have family there and that castle in particular has always been one of my favorites. There's also…well, I ah…my colleagues would laugh at me if I told them…but the wife is a huge rabbit lover. We've got eight and counting. While we were in Japan, we ferried over to Okunoshima island-."

"Bunny island!" she exclaimed, eyes growing wide. "Yes! I've heard of that place…is it really as populated with them as I've read?"

"Certain areas, yes. You can't step down without having one of those critters beneath you. It was quite therapeutic to hold and pet them. Though…my wife was tempted to stay there, so I nearly went home divorced."

She joined in on his chuckling, mentally tucking away the two locations for a later discussion with Wesley. It was the first time she genuinely looked forward to her expedition. And perhaps that's what she needed to be doing…assembling a list. Comparing her desired locales with Wesley's. Considering the hecticness of the past few days, it might be beneficial to her own health to focus on something that served as a reward of sorts. Survive the lawsuit, survive Joker just for a few more weeks and then hopefully smooth sailing overseas.

She exchanged a final goodbye with Dr. Ensinger before getting to work on rounding up all the flower vases and setting them near the door.

Bruce swung by just as she set down vase number thirty-four.

"We're taking all of them?!"

"Um…yeah?"

He offered her a cup of coffee, staring down at the flowers.

"They're already on their way to wilting…"

She shrugged.

"Even after they've decomposed, flowers don't stop being beautiful to me. Sorry Bruce, pitfalls of being friends with a hippie."

He grumbled something she didn't catch.

It took them four trips to deposit all the vases in Bruce's backseat. Her coffee was halfway chugged by the time she slipped into the passenger side of his vehicle.

"Picking up your prescription first or-?"

"I need a shower," she stated. "I feel ghastly."

He set off to her apartment, occasionally glancing in the backseat to make sure the vases wouldn't tip over. It was probably unusual for him to be driving so carefully.

"Did you hear about Councilman Silverra?"

She pursed her lips and looked out the window.

"Yeah."

"Gordon suspects it was Joker."

"It was. He filmed it and sent me the video."

Bruce's head shot to her.

"You're serious?"

"Unfortunately."

His hands tightened around the wheel. She was too nervous to tell him about last night's rendezvous. Most of what Joker said would need to be edited out so it didn't sound like she had a delusional stalker on her hands…even though that's exactly what she had.

One priority at a time. Today's errands supersede anything else.

"Why send that to you?" he finally asked.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

They got to her apartment by eleven, and the flowers were inside and watered by eleven-thirty.

Bruce occupied himself with watching TV as she took her first shower in nearly a week. She did her best to keep her bandaged hand dry, washing and shampooing herself with her left. Because of this, she wasn't fully cleaned and dressed until nearly twelve-thirty.

Her outfit was much more conservative than what she normally wore – khakis and a fitted, long-sleeved, white dress shirt. For once, she opted for a little bit of mascara, blush, and a light coating of a plum-colored lipstick. Lastly, she scooped up a portion of her hair and bobby pinned it up in a 1940's puff. One of the black dahlias that'd managed to survive unblemished, was also bobby pinned to the side of the puff. She figured it'd help to look somewhat approachable, namely when speaking with Martha Graves.

Before they left, she took her antidepressants and grabbed a granola bar from the kitchen. Their first meeting would be with Dr. Suarez, and then immediately after they were to head downtown to touch base with their lawyers. She wasn't sure how long it would take, or whether they'd have the chance to get some grub along the way.

Bruce stopped at the pharmacy nearest to her home first, allowing her to pick up her prescriptions, some white bandages, a week's worth of dress film, and some hair dye that was just a pinch darker than her natural color. As he headed out in the direction of Arkham State Hospital, she worked on re-dressing and re-wrapping her hand like Dr. Ensinger taught her, trashing the soiled ones in a spare plastic bag.

Prior to covering the wound back up, Celine spent a few moments examining the spot where her pinky used to be. It was a little swollen, but the stitches were doing their job and already, she could see the area attempting to regenerate and seal over the hole. Regrettably, she couldn't keep it uncovered for long as the AC in the car made her grit her teeth in discomfort.

They parked at the hospital just shy of one-thirty, Bruce leading the way inside. The desk clerk recognized them both from their frequent stop bys, and apparently had been given a heads up about their meeting.

"Dr. Suarez is with a patient currently; he should be finished at two o'clock. He said you're more than welcome to wait for him in his office."

"Thank you," she said, turning to Bruce. "I don't know about you, but I could use another cup of coffee. I'm going to stop by the cafeteria and grab a cup, want one?"

"Something tells me I'll be needing it," came his moody response.

They parted ways at the elevator, her promising to meet him shortly.

The cafeteria was bare save for a few guards on break. She walked over to where the coffee pots were situated and poured Bruce and herself a healthy portion each.

Just as she turned around, a woman bounded over to her.

"Excuse me," she said, stopping only when she was an arm's distance away. "You're Celine Harlow, aren't you? The one Joker held as a hostage last month?"

Celine cautiously examined the woman. She couldn't have been much younger than her and was quite pretty. Bleach blonde hair was tucked back in a slick ponytail. Black-framed glasses held in them vibrant blue eyes. Her makeup was lightly and meticulously applied. Seeing her in the white coat all of the psychiatrists wore eased her considerably. She didn't appear to be a pesky reporter.

"I am," she said slowly, offering her a shaky smile.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to corner you like this." Her smile was radiant, revealing perfect, straight white teeth. "I'm Dr. Harleen Quinzel."

She extended a manicured hand. Celine shook it, surprised by the grip on the woman.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable either," she added when they lowered their hands. "I just…didn't expect to run into you here. I've been putting together a psych evaluation for the police department on Joker for just under half a year. When I realized it was you, I was hoping maybe I could ask you some questions seeing as you witnessed him firsthand. It's my dream to diagnose him on a one on one basis, but I'm new here and he's evaded capture for eight months now. His victims…those rare few still alive…are the next best thing."

"Have you tried talking to Harvey Dent?"

Her smile slipped.

"He becomes physical anytime I try mentioning him. That speaks for itself I suppose."

She didn't let this information inhibit her chipper mood.

"Only if you can spare the time," she followed up. "I apologize if I'm keeping you from something."

She glanced at the clock, seeing she had at least fifteen minutes before Dr. Suarez was due back.

"Do you think what I have to say will help at all?"

Harleen's eyes widened.

"Without question. I've got a few pages worth of former doctors' notes when he was a resident here last. It's helpful, but I got the impression he was pulling a fast one on them so they would lower his threat level and keep less guards on him. He's a dangerous case no doubt, but I believe anyone can be treated with a mixture of medicine and compassion."

Celine hid her grimace. The word naïve flashed through her mind. She didn't think Dr. Quinzel to be a stupid woman; she wouldn't be in her position if she were. But the idea of extending compassion to someone as empathy-lacking as Joker? From personal experience, it wasn't wise. He would chew her up and spit her out.

"The medicine part I agree with you on," she relayed as Harleen brought out a small notepad and pen from her pocket. "Compassion…is…a stretch. All living beings deserve it, certainly, but some are too far gone for it to do anything for."

She was already scratching down notes.

"And you consider Joker beyond help?"

"There isn't a pill in the world to cure him, only sedate his more psychopathic tendencies. He doesn't have morals, but he does have personal ideologies that have shaped and emboldened him. You could schedule an appointment with him every day for ten years and he wouldn't change. He knows what he's doing. He relishes in what he's doing. He answers to no one but himself."

Harleen's hand was scribbling away, tongue peeking out from the corner of her mouth.

"His treatment of you-." She momentarily peeked up, frowning a little. "-what prompted the violent outbursts? Was there anything you noticed that seemed to set him off? A trigger?"

It took her a moment to register Harleen's insinuation.

"Oh this?" She gestured at her bruised face. "Attempted mugging. Not him."

She didn't bother hiding her surprise.

"Oh…I…I'm so sorry. I just assumed…um, did he hurt you at all?"

How much do I tell her? And will she write a book about this in the future?

"He challenged me to a knife fight to the death. Picked up a few scrapes and a broken nose, but nothing serious."

"But…you're both still alive," she concluded. "So…what made him keep from killing you? I assume he won; that's been a reoccurring trait I've noted from those who've faced him and lived to tell about it. He's a master in all forms of combat."

She could feel her cheeks heating up.

"I…I don't know. At one point I got the upper hand and he tried provoking me into killing him. I…didn't have the guts to end another human life, even his. I ended up passing out just after."

Harleen tapped the pen against her bottom lip, squinting thoughtfully. Celine got the impression the psychiatrist didn't fully believe her.

"You must have had frequent encounters with him to have such a…vivid analysis of his character."

She shrugged.

"I've always been an observer, even from a distance. This is all subjective, I could be entirely off."

"Oh no I think what you've said lines up with my growing profile." She tilted her head, ponytail swinging at the motion. "Why do you think he kept you but returned the other hostages? And why did he not kill you? Not that I'm advocating for your death here, it's just that…his one-on-one victims tend not to last very long."

"I don't know, Dr. Quinzel. I'm just lucky to be alive."

Nodding, she jotted down a few more notes.

"May I be frank with you, Celine?"

"Go ahead."

Her lips quirked up, but there was hesitation in her eyes.

"I don't think you're telling me everything. Your…observations of him are too intimate not to hint at some form of an established relationship. This isn't uncommon between captive and captee. As you most likely saw this morning, Councilman Silverra was killed in a car bombing last night. I have no doubt in my mind Joker is responsible. If he wants your head, he'll get it one way or another. You, on the other hand, have seemingly been spared this fate. I know you've only just met me, and I don't envy having to evade reporters looking to make a name for themselves…but…perhaps it might be beneficial to talk it out with someone. Not just for my sake, but for yours too."

She scanned the cafeteria once before taking a step closer to her.

"I promise that what you tell me will stay between us. Should I publish an essay in a few years, you will remain anonymous. Your safety will be prioritized above all else, I guarantee it."

When she looked into Harleen's eyes, she saw a near indistinguishable mix of genuineness and drive. Yes, she would protect her to the best of her ability, but she would also do whatever possible to complete her analysis. The pretty face wasn't to be underestimated.

"Help me out," she tried a final time, "and I'll help you out with whatever it is you need, to the best of my ability."

Her instinctive response was to once again play dumb. Discourage the doctor so she didn't bite off more than she could chew.

But at that exact moment John's face popped into her mind. She'd vowed to help him return to stability. To the brilliant doctor he was. Harleen, pained as she was to admit it, was a blessing in disguise.

There's no way I can tell her everything that occurred between us. I can barely come to terms with some of it myself.

Her phone dinged, interrupting her thought process.

Dr. Suarez is back.

She stared at the message for a few seconds before lifting her head up.

"Dr. Quinzel-."

"Harleen, please."

"Harleen…maybe there is something you could do for me…but it might put your position here in jeopardy."

"Name it and I'll see it done."

Celine frowned. She hoped Harleen never actually got the chance to psychoanalyze Joker one-on-one. There was no way she'd be able to hide her fascination with him. He would pick up on it within a meeting.

"I have a friend," she began, lowering her voice as a guard passed by, "that needs medication, but refuses to step foot in here again. He…wasn't treated all that humanely in his residency. He's gotten worse as of late…and I don't know how else to help him other than with medicine."

"What does he need?"

"Six hundred milligrams of Clyzomene. Twenty-four hundred of lithium."

She jotted this down, nodding as she did so.

"How long a stretch we talking?"

If I'm really going to go through on this trip with Wesley, I need to make sure John is taken care of in my absence.

"Three months' worth at least?" she ventured. "If that's asking too much-."

"I'll find a way," Harleen assured, offering her a comforting smile. "It's not like you're asking me to hurt someone. If this medication will help your friend, I'm happy to be an indirect source to that healing. I don't know how long you plan to hang around today, but I can have everything ready by seven this evening."

Her heart swelled at the thought of relieving the bags under John's eyes and getting her friend back once and for all.

"I have to run a few errands but can return later. What is it you want exactly? An off the record interview? Just so I know what to prepare myself for."

Harleen pocketed her notebook and pen.

"Have you ever been to therapy?"

"I have."

She nodded.

"What I want isn't too dissimilar. You're not under scrutiny nor do I have any intention of laying judgment upon you. I'm going to ask you a series of questions and just want your perspective of Joker and what occurred between you two in the time you were his captive. It will help me so much, you have no idea. Should he ever see the inside of Arkham again, I'll be better equipped to know how to keep him here and what sort of practices to bring to our sessions together."

"Provided you get him as a patient."

Harleen's smile was confident.

"Dr. Arkham has all but promised him to me in the event he's captured. Which is why your help will be so instrumental."

Another buzz from her phone forced her eyes down to the device.

You okay?

Sighing, Celine shook her head. This was without question one of the most uncomfortable alliances she'd ever forged. It's not that she didn't want Dr. Quinzel to finish her profile and succeed. The woman was accommodating and full of drive. Had they met under differing circumstances; she'd have probably scouted her for her app.

But the intensity of her hyperfixation…especially from a position where she was encouraged to remain as objective as possible…she couldn't help but feel she was leading a mouse into a wolf's den.

"Okay," she agreed. "One session, I'll tell you everything I know."

Her blue eyes brightened.

"Excellent!" She extended a hand. "Shake on it and it's a deal."

They shook hands; Celine forcing herself to focus on the outcome. John would have access to medicine again. She would not lose him to Scarecrow.

"I have to get going," she said. "Do you want me to find your office when I come back this evening?"

"That'll be perfect. I'll give the desk clerk a heads up you'll be stopping by again. Thank you so much, Celine. You…you have no idea how many lives we're going to save when this is all over and done with."

She didn't feel nearly as optimistic as Harleen but matched her smile anyway.

Bruce and Dr. Suarez were deep in conversation by the time she arrived. She handed Bruce his coffee and shook hands with the doctor.

"I wish we were meeting under better circumstances," he commented, lowering his hand and picking up a file. "This here is the entirety of my conversations with Miss Graves over the course of six months. I uh…I neglected to mention…I gave her my work number and we did talk twice over the phone. Unfortunately, I don't have any documentation of those conversations. If I had…I'm afraid I probably could have helped our case a little bit more."

She flipped open the file; Bruce coming to stand over her shoulder so he could read.

"How's that?" she asked.

Dr. Suarez took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"It was only over the phone that Miss Graves revealed to me from the ages of eight to eleven she was sexually abused by her mother's then boyfriend. Her mother didn't believe her until she walked in on him attempting to perform oral sex on her. She never received therapy for this."

Bruce looked up.

"Is there any way to get proof of the abuse? I guarantee this Graves woman won't let the court know that detail."

"Unfortunately, besides her mother, I was the only other person she'd confided this too. You would have to have-."

Her phone dinged once. She peeked at the number, momentarily tuning out of the conversation.

Watcha doing at the looney bin? Finally take the plunge and decide to commit Wayne?

Rolling her eyes, she pocketed her phone.

She and Bruce got to work reading every word of the fifty-some pages of chat log data. Not even halfway through and her phone dinged again. She ignored it.

It dinged several more times before Bruce tore his gaze from the pages and looked at her.

"You're fine to respond, it won't hurt my feelings any."

"It's nothing important."

No sooner than she said this her phone began to ring. She internally groaned, half-tempted to shut it off entirely. But the thought of Aesop suffering because of her dissuaded the idea.

"I'm so sorry, I have to get this. I'll be right back."

The second she stepped out into the hallway; she answered the call.

"What?"

"Well someone's got a case of the grum-ps."

She lowered her voice and took a few breaths.

"Blowing up someone's phone will do that to you. Unless what you have to say is a matter of life or death, I'm hanging up."

"Mmm…I wouldn't do that sweets. Not unless you wanna see me flay Aesop alive. I could make him into a quilt for ya if you'd like. We can cuddle in it."

She started to pace, willing her aggravation away. It wouldn't do negotiating with him while wound up.

"Okay, you have my attention," she said. "What is it you want?"

"Just wanted to see what my girl was up to. Did ya like my video?"

Frowning, she paused in front of a wall.

"It was unnecessary. He was resigning and leaving the city. You would have gotten what you wanted."

"Mmm…not quite. He was getting off way too easy. Why should he skirt by with his life when his fellow constituents didn't get that luxury? I was tying up a loose end."

"How thoughtful of you," she muttered.

"I thought so too!"

Suppressing a groan, she ran a hand through her hair.

"I really have to get going," she told him, glancing at Dr. Suarez's door. "Today…isn't a good day."

"And uhh why's that?"

"Work related stuff."

"What sorta work related stuff?"

"Stuff that relates to work."

"Hmpf…you're being evasive. I'm gonna find out one way or another, so why not save me the trouble and tell me, hm?"

"Save you the trouble? Have you met me?"

His boisterous cackle had her smiling into the phone. Why did making him laugh make her stomach feel all tingly?

Maybe I oughta hunt down Dr. Quinzel and put her on the phone.

"Such a sharp little tongue. Ya know there are better uses for it…I have a few suggestions."

She looked up when Bruce opened the door to the office. Joker was still babbling as she brought the phone to her chest.

"Sorry, just a friend checking in. We haven't spoken in a while. I'm nearly finished."

"Dr. Suarez has a staff meeting in a little bit. He wanted to go over Elle's mental state prior to her suicide."

"I'll be right in."

He returned to the office, leaving the door parted a little.

"I really can't talk anymore," she said. "Sorry."

"Ahh Dr. Suarez…I once killed his parakeet. Notice how he's got a bird cage in his office but no birdie? Ask him about it…I'm sure he looooves recounting that story."

"Goodbye Jack."

She flinched at using his name. The more they interacted, the more human he seemed. What were humans without their name?

"Fiiiiine. No use talking to ya when you're being such a grouch."

"Thank you. I'll talk to you la-I mean um…catch you later…alligator."

She stared up at the ceiling, mouth forming around a silent scream. How was he able to reduce her to such an awkward, rambling mess?

He was dead silent, prompting her to think she'd stunned him into silence. If only it were that easy.

"Mmm…I bet you're blushing up a storm right now. Looking like a cute little tomato that I just wanna squish in my hand and run my tongue along-."

"Goodbye."

She hung up and took a moment to compose herself (and yes, rub the redness out of her cheeks too). When sufficiently collected, she returned to the office.

"I'm really sorry about that, Dr. Suarez. I know how valuable your time is."

"We all have busy lives, Miss Harlow. I understand."

Her eyes shot to the empty bird cage by his desk. She quickly averted her gaze and cleared her throat.

"Miss Graves' behavior up until the week before her death," he began, "was fairly consistent. I would receive her messages the same time each Wednesday. Having a routine gave her security; she didn't cope well with change. Knowing this about her, a variety of factors may have played a part in her death. It is obvious one of her triggers was set off…perhaps she was in an intimate situation or she may have been touched, even a brush on the shoulder, without permission. I only know that the week before she died, there was an undercurrent of hysteria in her messages. She was very insistent on scheduling an official appointment with me. I attempted – as you'll note in the transcripts – to ask numerous times if there was something wrong. Her response was…peculiar."

Celine glanced at the papers in Bruce's hand. He was one step ahead of her, skimming the very last page.

"I saw the most awful thing on television," she read, brows furrowing. "Did she specify what it was?"

"I'm afraid not. It is possible she was flipping through the channels, put it on something, and a scene depicting sexual abuse came on. There really is no knowing for sure. I…ahem…I do know that I very much wish she was still with us. She was a gentle soul and her time on this Earth was far too brief."

He blinked a few times, staring at the floor.

"If the judge doesn't toss out the lawsuit," Bruce input after a moment of silence, "you'll be called on to testify. Is that feasible for you to do?"

"I've spoken with Dr. Arkham about potentially taking some time off. Not just for the trial, but in general. I'll admit…this one is going to be on my conscience for a while. I…may want a break from participating in Oz as well."

"Take all the time you need off," she encouraged. "None of this is on you…I hope you know that. From the sounds of it her mother had more of a role in her suicide than anyone else. I'm not going to let her smear your reputation because of her negligence."

Dr. Suarez's nod was timid. She thought back to her mental and emotional state following Cathy's suicide.

"You…you always think you could have said more," she recalled. "If I had had the words, maybe I could have…healed them…just a little bit anyway. Enough for them to still be around. Elie Weisel's grandson said it best…if I love you more, will you suffer less? The reality guts you…you can't make up for the love someone else lacks. You can only hold their hand and help them try to love themselves. I know it's tempting in the aftermath to burden yourself with what ifs, but that only prolongs our grief. I…would choose to focus on the good. That girl…she had no one to pour her trauma into. She sat with it for years…she watched it shape her. My only regret is that you two didn't encounter each other sooner. If you had, there's no doubt in my mind she would still be around."

"I-that's very kind of you, Miss Harlow." He readjusted his glasses. "Thank you."

"Do you want me to send out a message to Oz's patients that you'll be taking a leave of absence?"

He shook his head.

"I'll tell the ones I've been helping from the beginning, personally. And recommend a doctor on the app with a similar specialty as mine so they don't feel abandoned."

"May we hold on to these?" Bruce asked, clutching the file of papers.

"Please do. I…don't need them to sit around as a reminder." He glanced at the clock. "I'm afraid I need to get going shortly…if there is anything else I can do for either of you, give my personal cell a ring. And let me know how the claim goes tomorrow…I can't imagine her getting far with the lawsuit when you had such specific provisions in place to protect yourselves."

"Let's hope the court sees it that way too," Bruce agreed. "Thank you for your time, doctor."

They exchanged a final set of handshakes before following Dr. Suarez to the elevators. He parted from them on the sixth floor; they were silent on their way down to the front desk.

"Are you feeling any better about this?" he asked.

"Not as overwhelmed as I was yesterday," she admitted. "Elle's trigger…if we find out what it was, it'll guarantee the lawsuit gets tossed. I can feel that's the answer to all this."

He nodded beside her.

"And physically…how are you holding up?"

"The pain is dull…I need to keep moving and not let myself focus on it. What time are we meeting with the lawyers?"

He looked down at his watch as she opened the entrance door for him.

"In about an hour. Did you want to grab something to eat quick?"

They continued to the parking lot side by side.

"Heck yes. Your choice seeing as you've been bending over backwards for me these past few days. And I don't care how much you protest, I'm paying."

"No protests from me," he said, raising his hands in a defensive pose. "What was it you thought I was before you got to know me? A "pampered, willfully ignorant pickled loaf of bread?" Everything else was true, but I never understood the pickled loaf part."

She giggled at his puzzled face.

"It's one of my least favorite deli meats…my mom loved to splurge when she had the money for it. I remember getting home from a party one night, cross faded as anything, and going through an entire pound of it. Vomited for three hours straight. Gagged for a full year anytime I smelled anything pickled. It's one of the worst things I could compare you to."

Bruce snorted, opening the passenger door for her.

"What an honor."

Just as he went to start the car, she got another ding from her phone.

To any entity invested in maintaining my sanity, please let me survive this day without losing it.

Aww aren't you two just looking cozy as ever

She huffed. This would descend quickly into an argument if she didn't nip it in the butt right away.

When in doubt, weird them out.

The last time she took this advice, she ended up tickled into unconsciousness. Perhaps it wasn't wise…

Her fingers were typing before she could convince them otherwise.

I'm cozier with you ; )

God, did she just send that? Yes…she really did.

He, thankfully, never responded. She was sure she had him stumped and felt all the better for it. Their meal would at least be peaceful.

I realize I write Bruce as the best friend I never had. Ten for you, Bruce Coco. Happy Coronapacolypse everyone! I'm considered "essential" personnel at my shitty minimum wage job and I just LOVE it. But it's not so bad really...I at least have a means of income and a roof over my head and whenever I have downtime at work, I'm working on chapters for this because my boss is laid back and so long as you get your work done, you can do whatever. This prompts a lot of customers to ask me what I'm working on...describing fanfiction to a sixty-some year old is a trip. I get all tongue-tied when they refer to it as my book because fanfiction is such a freeform of expression...I don't consider what I write novel-esque...novels are serious, ya know? Fun fact, the characterization for Gil was based off a real customer experience I had...I'm in tune with my intuition and everything told me this guy was not only unstable, but evil. I never in my life got such a feeling of impending doom and discomfort from someone...we also close at midnight, sometimes later, and I work that closing shift by myself...sooooo I got into the habit of bringing my machete to work and keeping it under the counter as well as a big ass can of ant/wasp spray with a little nozzle for precise aiming *pew pew*...I was ready for him should he have snapped.
He ended up getting arrested for beating the crap out of his disabled girlfriend...we then found out he had a warrant out for his arrest from Ohio (can't y'all just chill?). He wasn't supposed to leave the state because he was on parole for serving time for beating ANOTHER girlfriend nearly to death with a tire iron. Trust your vibes people! (Also, quarantine Ohio).
I hope you're all safe and together with your loved ones and take this free time to recuperate from the stresses of work and get some much needed rest in.