Their meeting with the three lawyers who had helped word the clauses in her app's terms and conditions lasted roughly two hours. They all needed to be in court at nine o'clock the next morning and were currently being prompted on potential questions the judge might ask regarding who was liable for Elle Graves's death.

She was reassured numerous times that the lawsuit didn't have strong enough legs to stand on and would get tossed, but she couldn't tell if they truly believed this or were just trying to comfort her.

In the midst of hour two, she could feel some of the pain start to return in both her hand and bottom lip. Joker had, after all, practically sliced it open with his teeth. The pain made her want to take just a short little rest so she could get her mind off it.

Their lawyers had all the evidence they needed to make a solid defense and after a few more last-minute questions, they all promised to see each other the next morning at the courthouse.

As Celine exited the law firm, a nauseating wave of dizziness struck her. Her vision momentarily went blurry as her knees crumbled.

A few seconds later Bruce was helping her off the sidewalk, staring down at her in concern; brushing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes.

"You're not okay," he stated.

She shook her head.

"Just need to take my medicine is all. I'm fine, really."

"Celine-."

"Bruce…I'll have all the time in the world to rest tonight. I just need to make it through these next few hours. I got it, promise."

He pursed his lips before guiding her back to her feet with an arm around her back. She stayed glued against his side, tipping forward slightly so she could bury her face in his chest.

I should ask Jack what cologne he was wearing and get it for Bruce for his birthday.

She was too mentally exhausted to question the coherency of such a thought. Could anyone encounter Joker without going a little mad? Why couldn't she stop referring to him by his real name?

"Do you want me to carry you?"

His chest rumbled as he spoke. She looked up at him with an arched brow.

"Seriously?"

His lips quivered. In an instant, he was bent on one knee, gesturing his head backwards.

"Hop on, mademoiselle. Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?"

She giggled into her hand, eyeing him with a tilt of the head.

"Is that the only French you know?"

"It's the only French that's been relevant enough to remember."

Ignoring the stares they were receiving – from an outsider's point of view it very nearly looked like Bruce was getting ready to propose to her – she slung both arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his muscular torso.

"Comfy?"

"Mmm…very."

He stood as if she weighed nothing and began their journey to the parking garage half a block away. She relaxed against him, chin coming to rest on his shoulder.

Her animal instincts alerted her she, specifically, was being watched. It was similar to having had Aesop trailing her. However, she was too content in her position to trouble herself any further over it. Maybe if he gave piggyback rides instead of blowing politicians up for fun, she might be a little more receptive to his advances. The thought made her chortle into Bruce's back.

It was nearing six o'clock by the time they made it back to the car. Once inside she took her medicine and practiced some hand exercises as Bruce drove them across town to meet with Martha Graves and extend her condolences. Elle's viewing had been earlier in the day and she hoped to catch the woman on her own so she could speak, one on one, from the heart.

The closer they got to the funeral home the quieter Bruce got.

"I'll wait in the car," he reconfirmed, pulling into the parking lot. "Unless you need my help-."

"I'll be fine," she assured. "Wish me luck."

He grimaced.

"You'll need it," was all he said.

The funeral home was located in a more residential area just on the outskirts of the city. There weren't many cars in the lot – four others if she excluded Bruce. The idea of Elle dying with so few people to mourn her had her heart swollen with agony.

She followed a hallway laden at the sides with bouquets of dark-toned flowers. The lighting was dim and from a distance she could hear an organ playing Frederic Chopin's "Funeral March".

Upon entering the room where the viewing was taking place, she frowned. Besides the organ player the room was empty save for a woman bent down on both knees in front of the casket. Her head was cast down, and she was mumbling quickly under her breath.

As Celine got closer, the words became more intelligible.

"-though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me; Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me-."

She'd had the good fortune to only attend three funerals in her life (relatively light compared to the average Gotham citizen). Technically it would have been five, but she couldn't muster the courage to attend either Cathy's or her mom's. She hadn't had the strength. But from the three she had attended; she recognized the funeral prayer Martha Graves was muttering. 23rd Psalm. Though areligious, this prayer had always been one to comfort her. It reminded her death was only a stage in the journey. It was only the end if you assumed the story was about you. Something about the removal of self and life still going on regardless…it eased her.

Just as Martha was ready to re-launch into the beginning of the prayer, she cleared her throat, hands hovering awkwardly at her sides.

The woman froze. She was heavier-set, though not obese. Her legs and calves were lean and muscular while her upper torso was bulkier. Brown hair that looked like it was naturally curly had been straightened and pinned out of her face by two butterfly barrettes. Her dress was a monochromatic black ending just below the ankle and most of her face was obscured by a mourning veil.

Her eyes traveled from Martha to Elle. Having glimpsed only the back of her in her dream, it was nice to finally examine the front.

"How did you know my angel?"

She didn't once turn around as she asked this. Her voice sounded like she'd been crying all day.

"I…through a mutual friend. I'm so, so sorry for your loss. Nothing I say will help ease the pain, but I do hope it eases…"

Martha brought a hand up to her eyes. It was clutching a damp Kleenex. She dabbed away her tears.

"Thank you," she said softly. "It's been…difficult seeing her like this all day. I keep expecting her to open her eyes and wake back up. But…it's better I suppose than seeing her when I found her."

Unsure of what to do, she settled on comforting the woman. One hand went to rest on her shoulder.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She sniffled and shook her head.

I don't know that I should even bring up the app at this point. It's clear she's devastated. Maybe I'm just meant to be here with her, so she at least has someone.

They stayed like that for a solid five minutes, neither speaking nor moving. It was only when Martha was trying to stand up that she finally dropped her hand from the woman's shoulder and backed a step away, so she had room to breathe.

The second Martha's amber-colored eyes landed on her; it was like a light switch had been flipped.

"You!"

She voiced this with such venom Celine ended up taking another step back, staring back and forth between the finger pointed at her and the suddenly hostile expression being aimed at her.

"You-you're that-that reprehensible woman! You're the reason my baby lost her life."

Dumbfounded, she tried to say something. Anything. But her brain was buffering like the world's slowest loading screen.

Martha covered the distance between them, reached her right hand back and smacked her soundly across the cheek.

"False hope! That's what you gave her. Nothing but lies and empty words. May the Devil punish you to the fullest extent possible."

She jumped upon feeling something wet strike her right below the eye.

Did she just spit at me?

"M-miss Graves-," she stuttered, wiping the saliva off her, "-I promise I only came here to check on you and make sure you're doing okay. If it's an apology you need, I have no issue providing it. It was never…never my intention to make your daughter's situation worse. I swear all I wanted was an outlet for people like her…like me who had no one at a time when they needed someone most-."

"And you're saying I wasn't there for her?" she demanded, hands swinging through the air. "You're saying some online sham of a doctor could help her better than her own mother?"

Yes, was resting on the tip of her tongue, but she didn't want to make the woman lose it.

"Of course not…I just-if we could sit down to talk some time I can show you how the app works and you can meet Dr. Suarez who cared about your daughter so very much-."

"OUT!" she screeched, throwing a hand toward the door. "Get out! You thieves! I implore you to be obedient like Jesus Christ, who obeyed his heavenly Father unto the cross. And to stand without moving out of my sight, in the name of the Trinity, I command you by the power of God and the incarnation of Jesus Christ not to move out of my sight, like Jesus Christ stood on Jordan's stormy banks to be baptized by John-."

Her voice boomed through the room. The organ player had long ago abandoned Chopin. Celine's heart was beating so hard she thought it was going to accelerate out of her chest.

When Martha finally ran out of oxygen from her half-crazed praying, she tried to extend the olive branch one last time.

"I know you're hurting. I know exactly how you're hurting. Please…if there's anything I can do to ease that pain, tell me. That's all I want to do."

Martha worked on regaining her breaths, the hostility making way for an expression devoid of any emotion.

"I-." She re-adjusted her veil and straightened up. "I wish it had been you and not her."

Her body jerked.

"I'll see you tomorrow in court. You will face judgment, one way or another," she declared before turning around and dropping back down to her knees beside the casket.

She could only watch the woman with a parted mouth. The organ player slowly began to play again.

The walk to Bruce's car felt like she was moving in slow motion. There were certain events that occurred where the surrealness was so overwhelming you didn't really have the chance to process any of it. All you could do was rewind and replay it.

Bruce was on the phone when she entered the car. One look at her face and he was muttering a hasty goodbye to the person.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing out of his mouth.

She shook her head, staring down at her knees.

"You tried to warn me," she answered. "I thought…I can get along with almost any sort of person. But she…oh god…poor, poor Elle."

He rested a hand on her back, rubbing soothing patterns into it. She turned to him.

"Did she slap and spit at you too?"

His smile was wry.

"I got the spit treatment, but not the slapping, which is unusual for me."

The lightness in his tone had her relaxing a little. Her eyes shot to the clock.

"Shit," she murmured. "I've got a favor to ask. Could you drop me off at Arkham? I'll take the bus back home. I met a new doctor when I went to get us coffee and I kind of wanted to squeeze in an interview with her, especially now that Dr. Suarez might be out of commission."

"Are you sure?" he followed up, studying her carefully. "Today's been a lot. For anyone. I'm honestly amazed you still have the energy to do anything else."

"I just need to finish this up. After that I'm calling it a day."

He considered this, thumb tapping against his steering wheel.

"What if I wait for you in the parking lot? I feel…wrong letting you overexert yourself, especially after taking that spill."

"I don't know how long the interview will last and you've already done so much for me already. You'll need your rest too for tomorrow."

His sigh was deep and drawn out.

"Alright. But if you have something similar happen again, call me. I'll come get you."

"Will do, thanks Bruce."

On their way to the hospital Celine made an announcement. Her brain was sick of harping on Martha Graves. It looked to peachier horizons.

"I'm going to go with Wesley on his trip. If he hadn't told you yet, we leave the day after my birthday."

Bruce smiled and glanced at her.

"I'm glad to hear that. Really glad. I'm almost tempted to join you both. I don't know how I'll get by without my daily dose of Celine."

She shrugged.

"I explicitly warned you addiction was possible. No better time to wean yourself off. And I'll text daily, depending on what country I'm in. Cool photos, surly men that remind me of you, the usual landmarks….and maybe some unusual. Dr. Ensinger recommended a castle in Germany and an island comprised of bunnies in Japan."

"Okunoshima?"

Her mouth dropped.

"You know it?"

His shrug was casual.

"I may have read up on it. One of those nights I couldn't sleep, and you start on one Wikipedia article and end up clicking on thirty different side links. It sounds…fun."

She watched him through narrowed eyelids.

"I'll send you pictures."

"Pet them for me too. Or don't. I could care less."

He was trying so hard to maintain his macho nonchalance, but all it did was make her stifle down a laugh.

"A bat and a bunny walk into a bar," she tried out. "They both have rabies and bite all the patrons. Everyone goes insane together."

"Is that what would happen?"

"More or less." She leaned back in the seat. "Also, if I survive this coming week intact, I'm going back to Maine for six days. One of these times you'll have to come with me. See my childhood home. The school I went to. The diner my mom and I worked at. Meet my living relatives and old friends."

"They'll assume I'm your boyfriend."

"Pfft…let them assume whatever the hell they want."

His grin was wicked.

"If that's the case, I'll tell them I'm your sugar daddy."

She choked on her own inhale.

"Please…dear god please don't do that. They will without question believe you. And you…fuck you sorta are." She tapped a few fingers against her chin. "But I also pay for some of your stuff too…so…does that make me your sugar daughter? What are the exact qualifications to be considered a 'sugar' something? How much sugar do you have to have? A whole bag? Just a few grains? If you get a sugar loan from the bank, does that count? Is there a manual on this I can rent out from the library? A Dummy's Guide to Sugar Daddies?"

"I know what to get you for your birthday," came his murmur.

They made some more small talk along the way. It was five to seven when Bruce's vehicle pulled into the parking lot.

"Good luck and call me if you're not feeling like making that trip home," he told her through an open window.

She had all of her supplies earlier from the pharmacy, contained in a plastic bag slung off her elbow.

"Will do. Thank you again for setting everything up and being my chauffeur. I'll see you tomorrow morning bright and early."

She blew him a playful kiss, of which he caught in his hand and smothered against his chest.

Just as he tore out of the parking lot, she headed inside, fingers typing out a text.

I'm picking up your medications right now. Can you meet me later this evening?

His response was near instantaneous.

I see…would you prefer your apartment or-?

She considered this on the way up the elevator.

Yeah, stop on by. You know where the spare key is. I'll be home in about an hour, give or take.

She'd not given this "therapy session" much thought since Harleen first suggested it. Her mind had been so focused on getting John his medication that she hadn't decided on what to edit out and what to keep in, so the psychiatrist felt like she'd learned something new about her subject. So risking termination from her job was worth it.

Omit anything sexual on my part. If he initiated it, that's a reflection of him, not me. Harleen is here to study him, not me. Keep that in mind.

Releasing a lengthy sigh, she paused outside of Dr. Quinzel's office and gave the door a few heavy knocks.

x_X_x_X_x

She was dozing off when the bus hit a deceivingly shallow speed bump. Her skull struck the window, effectively waking her back up.

"Damn it," she mumbled, wincing as her fingers prodded at her temple.

One quick glance around informed her she did indeed pass out sometime after getting on. Fifteen other people had been crowded in with her. Now it was just her, the bus driver, and someone a few seats behind her hidden beneath a gray hoodie. She'd have returned her attention back to getting some more rest in, but her eyes wandered back to the person behind her. They weren't looking in her direction, but she got a very distinct feeling of eyes on her.

She pushed herself up and maneuvered into the aisle, taking slow, cautious steps toward the figure. They refused to react no matter how close she got, reclined in the same half-hunch; face tilted toward the window.

This is how you piss off crackheads. I should go back to my seat and mind my business.

Her hand had other ideas. Tentatively, she reached out and wrapped her fingers around the man's shoulder. They still didn't move. She tried giving him a light push. His body swayed slightly before returning to its position.

No shit! Leave it to me to find a dead guy on the ride home.

Just as she was about to turn and talk to the bus driver, the figure shot at her with fully extended arms. She tripped over her feet and fell backwards, landing flat on her ass. As she groaned, giggles erupted above her.

"Oh god damn it," she groused, working on picking herself up.

Joker pulled down his hoodie, his makeup exactly as it had been last night. No reds or blacks, just a white sheen that made him look like a diabolical poltergeist.

"Ooh hoo hoo…you shoulda seen your face! Ah ah ahhhh!"

He mimicked her fall backwards, arms sprawling wildly.

Maybe it was the exhaustion of the day or being cursed out by a grief-ridden nut, but Celine just didn't give any fucks about thinking first, acting later.

She lunged at Joker, one hand aiming for his hair, the other for the throat. He seemed legitimately taken aback by the assault; allowing her momentarily to get the upper hand.

One hand wrapped around his throat – tight enough that she could feel every time he swallowed. The other hand managed to weave into his dirty blonde locks, grasping the strands until she could control what angle to tilt his head. One knee sat on the outside of his, the other between his thighs just above his crotch. A warning. A threat.

Joker wasn't nearly as intimidated as she had hoped he'd be. He kept licking at the sides of his mouth, eyes practically teeming with pleasure. There was no doubt he could reverse the power structure seeing as his hands were completely free, but it was clear he was studying her movements and reactions. It was the first time she'd physically lashed out at him. For him, it was like monitoring a science experiment.

She kept the pressure on his throat as the hand formerly in his hair, slid down the length of his torso. He shivered a little under the deliberate touch, eyes fluttering a couple of times; deep breaths puffing out from his nose. She stored that away for later. He did not get consensually touched very often.

When her hand found what she was looking for, she quickly extracted the knife from his hoodie pocket, flipped open the blade, and brought the tip to his jugular.

"Please…please leave me alone. Go blow up a building. Set fire to a graveyard. Terrorize the mob. Hell, get Batman's attention. Just…please…leave me b-."

He snatched the blade out of her hand in the blink of an eye. She attempted to scramble off him, but he was too quick and his movements too fluid. Both of his arms hooked under her thighs and spread them out. With a rough tug forward, he now had her pelvis to pelvis, sitting on his lap, knees on either side of his waist; his large, calloused hands keeping a tight grip on each one of her butt cheeks.

She tried to move off him, but one of his hands squeezed her cheek while the other moved up and wrapped an arm around her back, pulling her further against him. One hand dug into his shoulder, attempting to keep their bodies from coming together.

"There," he stated, grinning crookedly at her. "Much better seating arrangements, don't ya think?"

"Let me go or I'll scream."

"Uhhh no and be my guest." He raised his voice, peeking behind her. "Didn't have to pay Ronnie much to buy his silence, did I? For someone who's essential in getting Gothamites around, he sure isn't paid all that much."

Her teeth ground against each other.

"Whatever he's paying you," she yelled, still stuck in place, "I'll double it. Stop the bus at an ATM and I'll draw out the amount right now!"

The bus slowed ever so slightly.

"Oh no no no no," Joker called up. "Ronnie, if you stop the bus, I'll blow your brains out all over the windshield. Brain matter is soooo tedious to clean up, take my word for it."

The bus sped back up to its normal speed.

Her body slumped into his; thoroughly defeated.

Joker applied pressure to her lower back until she was laying against his chest, head tucked just beneath his chin. She sniffed him a few times, nose brushing against his pulse point. She swore she heard him purr, but it got stifled in his chest.

"You're not wearing the cologne from last night," she murmured against his throat.

"Fan of that, were you? I'll uh keep that in mind."

She didn't say anything, eyes flickering. She didn't put it past herself not to pass out on him. That's how tired she was.

"You were a busy little bunny today, weren't you?" he said, thumb stroking her back. "Been trying to piece it all together…the looney bin…lawyers…funeral homes…what's the punchline? You're terminal. No, no, no…Wayne is. I could always put him out of his misery early if you'd like."

"Don't you dare," she mumbled sleepily. "Or I'll have your balls."

"Why wait? You're more than welcome to have them now."

She weakly slapped his opposite shoulder.

"Behave. I'm not getting arrested for indecent exposure."

"Nothing indecent about what I'm exposing."

He rolled his hips once; already half hard against her. She bit down into his shoulder. The downside with khakis was they were made from a considerably thinner material than denim. Which meant each time Joker rubbed his cock against her, it felt like he could penetrate her if he so wished. The spread-out position of her thighs only heightened the sensitivity between her legs.

Joker's fingers on her butt cheek dug deep into the flesh, kneading it playfully before landing a firm spank on the area. She muffled the sounds coming from her throat against his zip-up. Her body had somehow become putty in his hands and he was taking full advantage.

She leaned back a little, pulling away her crotch from his cock. He immediately tried to yank her back onto him, but she held fast, blinking wearily at him.

"I'm so tired. Tomorrows a big day. I need rest."

"Mmm…and what's happening tomorrow?"

She pretended not to notice how his grip tightened around her.

"More work-related stuff. Need sleep. Don't care if it's on you or in my bed. Fair warning, I do drool. And kick. And maybe bite, but only if I'm having a dream about food. I once bit into a section of my pillow. It was mostly feathers. Much more delicious in my dream."

"I ate a neighbor's pet scorpion."

She cocked a brow.

"As a dare?"

He shrugged.

"Bored."

She snorted, averting her gaze. Something that stole the air from her lungs briefly resided in Joker's eyes. A…she didn't know what to identify it as. It wasn't softness, nor tenderness. But it was warm…warmer than his usual mocking or psychotic expressions. And it was genuine. Boy oh boy was it. She was too afraid to let him know she picked up on it for fear of never seeing it again.

"You have to stop stalking me," she told him, resting her temple against his shoulder. "Don't you have havoc to wreak?"

"What you consider stalking, I consider…observing…from a distance. Told ya, you're much too dangerous to be left unsupervised. Can't have ya going and ruining another one of my grand productions."

"Hire a P.I."

"So you can seduce him into being good? Your fan club's big enough as it is."

"Hire a female P.I."

He didn't answer her on this one.

"It's creepy is all I'm saying," she whispered against him. "When it was Aesop, yes, still creepy, but I felt a sense of…safety, oddly enough. I knew he wouldn't let harm befall me. You on the other hand…I don't trust you not to snap and kill me because you don't like who I'm with or what I'm doing. That's the root of it, I think. I don't trust you not to kill me. And so long as I don't trust you, I won't meet you halfway."

He was silent for so long she ended up bringing a palm up to his mouth to make sure he was still breathing.

"I was going to kill you," he admitted so quietly she could barely hear him. "The night I broke free of my handcuffs in your apartment. It ah…would have been a quick death; you're not one of those I want to prolong the suffering of."

She reclined off him to study his eyes.

Oh, he's dead serious.

"Why didn't you?" she asked, voice remaining firm despite the apprehension paralyzing her body.

He offered her a half-shrug.

"You opened your eyes. Wasn't-ah expecting that."

Ever so gently, she detangled herself from him. He put up a bit of a fight to keep her on his lap, but her persistence finally made him loosen his grip. One hand shot out and grabbed her chin. He peered into her eyes; analyzing her.

"You're scared of me."

"I forgot who you were for a moment," came her answer. "Thank you for reminding me."

This seemed not the thing to say. Just as he made to leap at her, she shot out her right arm, the bony interior of her wrist striking him square in the nose. He went to cup his nostrils with a hand. She shot out her knee and struck him in the crotch a second later.

As he worked on recovering, she sprinted to her original seat, gathered everything up as quick as she was able, and then pulled on the cord to stop the bus. Ronnie, thankfully, complied. She was out the doors the moment they were open and inside a taxi in under ten seconds.

Refusing to look back, she stared ahead as the cabbie sped them away. No more falling asleep in public transit. Lesson, among others, learned.

I know I've received some complaints that Celine won't give in to Joker...here's the thing...realistically...if I suspected a mass murderer and psychopath dug me...I would have reservations for a long, long time. Not just the ethical ones that come with being with someone who can murder another person without blinking an eye, but the self-preservation ones...will they end up killing me if I upset them or they grow bored with me? Celine enjoys being alive, Joker isn't someone she's willing to risk going all in for...not unless she has a good enough reason. It's a fine line she treads...and tread it carefully does she.