(AN: I'm sorry for the long delay between chapters. I've been extremely busy with school. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy the chapter! Thanks as always for the reviews, favourites, and follows; they mean so much! Thanks to Anna10473, Daydreamer003, Kyokkou, Jokerfan14, and kykyxstandler for your lovely reviews of the last chapter :))

"I want you to prove it."

I shifted uncomfortably, the kitchen table digging into my back.

"What do you mean?"

His eyes rolled up, as if he was thinking.

"I want you to do me another favour."

He was so close to me now that his thighs pressed against the front of mine and I knew he could feel my legs trembling. I tried to still myself, but it was fruitless.

"What kind of favour?"

I felt beads of sweat trickle down the small of my back. The heat radiating off of his body felt like it was burning me. I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, imagining all the "favours" he had in store for me while praying for some space.

"I want you to work for me, from the inside."

I furrowed my brow in confusion.

"I don't know what you mean."

He smiled, amusedly.

"Let me lay it out for ya, toots." I frowned at the pet name. "You work at GCN, right?"

"Kind of but-" he cut me off.

"So you, lowly little Andy, will go back into work. It's gonna take a few days at least, but you're gonna go back to flying under the radar. A nobody in the station."

I silently watched him go on, incredulous.

"And then you're gonna wait for my call, or maybe I'll make another visit." He winked and my stomach turned.

"I need somebody in the station. Somebody no one's gonna suspect."

I shifted uncomfortably.

"Nobody's gonna think poor Andy, so traumatized from her run in with the Joker, would ever be working with him!" He snorted at his own thought before dipping his head in even closer "And there's just something about you I like."

Trying to ignore his last statement, I stared into the black pits that were his eyes and cleared my throat, "And if I refuse?"

He smiled shrewdly and took a small step backward, giving me breathing room, "If you have any sense kid, you won't."

What the fuck…How does he know I won't just go to the cops?

As if he read my mind, he again moved toward me, crawling back into my personal space like a predator toying with its prey.

"But, as we now know…" He licked his lips and stared down at me, "You're a feisty one. SO…" He reached into the right hand pocket of his purple suit jacket, revealing a small, sharp looking blade, "are you gonna need some convincing?"

My breath caught in my throat and my eyes followed the shifting blade clasped in his purple-gloved fingers.

"No."

"Good," he patted me on the cheek, "now don't say a wooord or I'll come back when you're cozy in your bed with your 18 pretty little pillows and suffocate you with one of them while you sleep."

I felt like I had been punched in the gut and my gaze fell toward my feet.

"We got a deal?"

I couldn't find my voice and my eyes remained locked on the curling and stained linoleum tile floor under my shaky feet. I felt him grow annoyed with my lack of response and he moved forward again, slinking into my space. His hand slithered up to my cheeks and he pushed my attention back toward him.

"Do we have a deal?" He growled, his hot breath billowed into my face and assaulted my senses.

"Yes." I resigned.

He smiled in response, but the smile never met his eyes.

"In that case," he said in a cheerful tone, "I think we are allllll done here!"

He took a step back and worked at readjusting his suit after our close encounter. As I watched, a sense of relief filled my belly at the realization that he seemed to be making his exit.

"Oh and by the way…" He paused dramatically, again pulling for my attention. "My ol' pal Officer Lerner gave me a heads up about your, uh, living situation." My face instantly fell and he feigned a concerned look, "Oh, don't look so surprised doll face. The cops in this city aren't as loyal as you might think."

I suppose, like everyone in the city, I knew about the corruption in the Gotham Police Department, but not to what extent. Now, thanks to the Joker, I had my first real taste of it.

"Should I go to the window and give him a little wave? He knows I'm here." He continued.

I felt anger bubbling inside of me, ready to spill over. I scoffed and looked away, furious. I felt stupid, and not only because he was clearly trying to make me feel that way, but because I had placed any blind trust in that cop.

With my back turned to him, I listened as he finally started making his way toward the door, further and further away from me. My eyes nearly burned holes into the painting of a sunset hung on my wall as I strained my ears to translate his movements.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn't leave without any parting comments. "Andy, sugar…"
I felt him turn toward my direction, "I'll know when you leave in the morning, when you come home in the afternoon, when you go to sleep at night and when you have that guilty late night snack." He stated everything in a singsong voice that somehow seemed to alleviate the terror. Nonetheless, goosebumps violently erupted over my skin at his words.

"So believe me when I tell ya it really is in your best interest to cooperate."

I couldn't physically give him a response, and he knew that. I listened to him shuffle around for a few moments longer, and then suddenly, he was gone.

When the door finally shut with a click, I stood in the same spot, unable to find the courage to lift my heavy legs. It was only when I finally felt my legs start to give out that I resolved to move toward the sofa. I thought about locking the apartment door, but then thought fuck it, instead. I felt my body collapse onto the loveseat and sat in silence on its prickly cushions. I listened to a mélange of the leaky faucet in the kitchen repetitively drip into the empty sink and the harsh sound of sirens blaring from the Gotham city streets below.

With nothing to distract me, I replayed the interaction over and over in my mind. When I thought about seeing him again. my stomach turned and I felt nauseous. I bent over, cradling my arms over my stomach, my hair cascading over my face like a curtain in my crumpled position. Drawing on a tip from my old therapy sessions, I closed my eyes and tried to take slow, long breaths.

Startled, I awoke in the fetal position on the couch, the city's nighttime light streaming in through the window and bathing the room in an eerie orange glow. I had barely unfurled myself before I was hit with a barrage of the day's memories. I sat on the edge of the sofa, feeling like shit and sick to my stomach. I wondered if maybe my body's reaction to emotional trauma had been sleep, a kind of self-induced coma.

Pushing myself up off of the couch, I slunk toward the apartment door and locked it anyways. In passing, I glanced at the digital clock on the oven. It read 1:30 am.

I slept longer than I thought…

Slowly I made my way down the narrow hallway toward my bedroom. I flicked on the bedroom light and glanced around the room, half expecting him to be there. I shut the bedroom door and locked it behind me, shuffled toward my dresser and pulled out an oversized t-shirt to sleep comfortably in. Sluggishly, I pulled off the clothes from the day, hoping my anxieties would go with it. I pulled the soft shirt on and pulled back the blankets of my bed, moving some of the many pillows covering the comforter in the process. Suddenly I remembered his comments about my bed, about my pillows. He had been in here. I felt violated and in a burst of manic energy I ripped all of the pillows off of my bed, nearly screaming in the process as angry tears streamed from my eyes. The pillows scattered all over the floor and I slammed off the lights. Quickly crawling into bed, I covered my head in the blankets in an attempt to block everything out.

For an indeterminate amount of time I laid awake in unease, convinced every noise echoing through the apartment, however small, was him. I clenched my eyes shut and begged for sleep, and despite my earlier reprieve, it never came.