(Hello, Dear Readers! The scenes with Bolton's hearing are going to be almost word-for-word the episode "Lock-Up" from Batman; the Animated Series. I usually try to find a way to tie-in all my Batman fics to some episode from that show because I grew up watching it as a kid and loved it. Also, a bit of a reminder – this story takes place in the Nolan-verse of Batman, so some of the villains that had supernatural powers or special abilities in the comics and various films are going to be a bit altered in this story in order to fit with Christopher Nolan's take on the world of Batman happening in our reality.)

{Granted Requests}

Serena nightingale – wanted mega fluff between Amber and Crane.

Knightrunner – wanted more Crane

Reading-Stories-Only – wanted Bruce Wayne to catch Amber singing 'Crazy Train'.

[Songs suggested & used for Chapter 27]

~ 'Psycho' by Imelda May (I suggest listening to it at the beginning of this chapter)

~ 'The Man' by Aloe Blacc and/or 'Oh, Johnny! Oh, Johnny! Oh!' by The Andrew Sisters (These are rather funny to listen to as the men of the asylum give a certain someone advice about flirting with women and later during the celebration part)

~ 'Anklebiters' by Paramore (I suggest listening to this when Amber has a run in with the reporters)

~ 'Johnny Got A Boom Boom' by Imelda May (could be listened to during the last half of this chapter)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The House That Bolton Built

May 10, 2013

Friday Morning

"For the last time; all of you sit down and stay still for thirty seconds! I need to make a head count!" Amber heaved a sigh and tried again. "Okay; one, two, three, four, fi – Joker, sit your butt down! – Five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven … Where's Amelia Rose?" Eleven fingers pointed towards the asylum's kitchen. Amber heaved what felt like her fortieth sigh within the span of two hours. "Of course she is."

"I'll keep an eye on them, missy," Cash offered.

"Thanks." Amber trudged to the kitchen, leaving her group and a few other patients under the watchful eyes of Officer Cash and twenty other guards. No one else occupied the cafeteria. It was the day of Bolton's review hearing and, because of Amber's key involvement in starting the investigation, she and her patients were being called to give their testimonies.

"Amelia?" Amber called as she pushed open the kitchen door. She heard some noises further back and followed the sound. She found Amelia sitting on the floor, surrounded by several empty pudding cups. She was in the process of tossing an empty container and ripping open another when she finally noticed Amber's presence. She froze. There was a stare off. Then, keeping eye contact with the nurse, Amelia very slowly peeled off the seal and scooped her spoon into the dessert. She carefully brought it to her mouth and slurped it down.

"My pudding," she said, shifting so that her body shielded the cup.

Amber looked at all the empty plastic containers on the floor. "How many did you eat?" she asked, incredulously.

"Puddiiiing!" came the happy response.

Amber pinched the bridge of her nose. "How do you keep getting into the kitchen?"

"Harley showed me."

"Oh, for the love of – Stay there!" Amber turned on her heel and marched out of the kitchen. The instant she spotted Harley, she pointed a stern finger at her. "You! Come here!"

Harley blinked in surprise. "Me?"

"Yes, you! Get over here, right now, young lady!" Forget the fact that, according to records, Harley was twenty-seven and Amber only twenty-two, the tone and authority in it sounded like a much older woman scolding a ten-year-old.

Harley gave Cash a questioning look and he shrugged. "Better do like she says, Miss Quinn," he advised, a bit of his amusement showing through. Harley got up and began to make her way to the awaiting nurse.

"Heh, heh; Harley's in trouble," Harvey sing-songed.

"Shut yer mouth!" Harley snapped, spinning around to face him.

"Hey!" Amber barked. "Keep it moving."

Harley slumped and quickly closed the distance between them. Amber held the door open for her. Once they both were inside, Amber signaled for Harley to follow and power-walked back to where Amelia was sitting.

"Hi-yah, Harley," Amelia greeted.

"She's eating all the puddin'!" Harley whined at the sight of all the empty containers.

"You showed me the secret way inside the kitchen! If you didn't want me to use it then you never should have shown me!"

"Harley," Amber snapped, "Stop showing people!"

"But she wouldn't stop pesterin' me about showing her."

"I don't care! That secret dies with you and leaves when you escape the asylum! – Not that I'm encouraging you to escape!"

"What about escaping?" Amelia asked, her attention finally focused on something other than pudding.

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing – take the pudding cups in your hands and let's go!"

As she led the two patients from the kitchen, Harley leaned over towards Amelia and grumbled, "You bettah not 'ave eaten all the chocolate flav'ad ones."

"Tee hee hee hee."

Back with the others, Amber finally managed to do a complete head-count and slumped into a seat. The trial was at 11 am, but instead of having it at the courthouse, the hearing would take place in the asylum's meeting room. It was about 9:30 am and Amber was already wishing the whole day was over.

While the group waited for the trial to begin, they could walk about but their space limit was clearly outlined by the twenty guards standing in a box-like formation around them. Amelia scanned the area until she spotted Crane sitting in his usual spot at their table. The seat that, if he angled himself just right, allowed him to put his back to the wall and observe everyone. Without hesitation, Amelia got up from her seat and crossed the distance between them, hopping onto the seat next to him. His whole body tensed and he looked at her as if she were something unidentifiable.

"Chocolate or vanilla?" she asked suddenly.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Chocolate or vanilla?"

Crane raised his eyes to look over Amelia's head at Harvey Dent and gave him a questioning lift of his eyebrows. Dent merely shrugged. With no help from him, Crane returned his attention to the diminutive figure beside him. "Um…Vanilla?" he said with an inquisitive tone.

"Psh; of course," the Joker snorted.

"Silence, you!" Crane snipped.

"You're as vanilla as they come, Craney boy!"

Before their argument could continue, Amelia produced a pudding cup, seemingly from thin air, and placed it in Crane's hands. "Here; have a chocolate!"

Crane blinked at the object. "Um…thaaank youuu," he said, drawing out the vowels as he tried to process what was happening. "I – uh, I said vanilla, though."

"I know."

"But this is chocolate."

"Yeah, it's the only flavor I've got."

"Then why did you ask which kind I wanted if the chocolate is the only one you have?"

"So that way I can know which one to swipe next time."

She slid off the seat and gave him a cheerful wave goodbye. Crane sat perfectly still as he watched her go then looked down at the pudding cup. He set it down on the table and continued to look at it. A foreign sensation was flittering around in his stomach. To Harvey Dent's utter surprise, he witnessed a tiny smile curl Crane's mouth. Dent's eyes flew wide open and he stood from his seat to point as a triumphant 'Ha!' escaped him. Crane flinched and the smile instantly vanished.

"What are you going on about, Dent?"

Dent quickly sat back down but this time he occupied the seat right next to Crane which the former psychiatrist did not seem to appreciate judging by the way he pressed his back further against the wall in an effort to put distance between them. "I knew it!" Dent whispered loudly. "I knew you had a thing for her!"

Crane's features were like stone. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do to."

"Do not."

"Do to!"

"Do not!"

"Do to – do to – do to! And I know that you've been smuggling sunflower seeds in the hidden pockets of your uniform because you know she likes them."

"I am merely supplying her with something that keeps her calm. It's better if she's happy than when she's unfocused –"

"Happy wife – happy life!"

"You're acting childish."

"Says the man who refuses to admit he's in love."

Crane's mouth opened and closed several times. "That's absurd!"

"Is it, Crane? Is it!"

"Yes, it is!"

"I bet you're carrying sunflowers seeds right now."

"I most certainly am not!"

"Admit it! You fell for her the second you saw her!"

"Love at first sight?" Crane let out an indignant scoff. "I'm too educated and logical to believe in that sort of nonsense." As if on cue, Amelia calmly walked over to Crane and expectantly held out her palms. Crane flicked his gaze from her hands to Dent a few times until finally, he reluctantly dug inside his pants pocket and deposited a handful of sunflowers seeds into her palms. She gave an adorably happy squeak, thanked him, then swiftly went away. Crane looked at Dent. "I'm doomed."

Dent's grin was so big it would have rivaled the Cheshire Cat. He inhaled – Crane suddenly gripped him by the shirt's collar, jerked him close and gave him a first-class view of his chilling blue eyes. "If you don't want to wake up screaming in sweat-soaked terror for the next four months, then I suggest you skip the 'I told you so's'."

Dent's unmarred skin paled and his grin went away. Crane released his shirt and resumed leaning against the wall. Clearing his throat, Dent asked, "So what do you plan on doing about it?"

"'Doing about it'?" Crane repeated.

"Yeah, about the girl? Which, by the way – can't help but notice the glaringly obvious age difference between you two. How many years is it? Ten? Twelve?"

"Fourteen," Crane mumbled. He'd looked through her file on the first day. He'd even hacked into the hospitable records to make sure the date of birth was right.

Dent whistled. "Robbing the cradle there, aren't you?"

"That's only four more than the age difference between you and Ivy, if I'm not mistaken. How old are you now, Dent? Forty-four? Forty-five?"

"Forty-three," Dent grumbled.

"Hmmm," Crane sounded smugly.

"Shuddup."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence and Crane started to fidget. "Speaking of age," he began. "I've often heard that with age comes experience, haven't you?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Well, seeing as how you're considerably older than me –"

"Watch it, Crane," Dent growled.

"I would assume that given your age, you've had some experience with women, right?"

Dent smirked. "Before my little accident," he gestured at the disfigured side of his face, "I could have my pick of women."

"Is that so?"

"Oh yeah," Dent chuckled.

"Then, perhaps, you might consider sharing some of the insight you've picked up concerning the …" Crane paused and struggled to think of the right words. "The art of wooing the female sex."

Dent furrowed his brow at the man. "…Are you asking me to teach you how to flirt with women?"

Crane spluttered an unconvincing laugh. "Of course not! I'm merely asking for some – some pointers – some ideas to add to my own repertoire."

Dent waited.

Crane deflated. "I could use some help, actually."

"You don't say?"

"Look, I spent all of high school immersed with my studies and finding scholarships to get me through college – I didn't have time for girls then."

"Aaand what about college?"

"I spent all of college immersed with my studies to become a psychiatrist and experimenting my theories on human test subjects – some of whom weren't exactly willing to be tested on – I didn't have time for young women!"

"But now that you're a thirty-two-year-old man, one of Gotham's most notorious criminals, and currently imprisoned in an asylum for the criminally insane, now you've suddenly got time for girls?"

Crane thought a moment, then nodded. "Yes, exactly."

Dent ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily. "Okay, so – obviously, we've got some work to do."

"I am not hopeless, Dent."

"Oh really? Finish this phrase for me; 'roses are red, violets are blue' –"

"Violets are not blue, they are purple – hence the name violet!"

Dent rubbed his temple. "Yeah, we've got a lot of work to do. Oookaaay, Crane. Just do what you do best and observe my interaction with Pamela. Got it?"

"You got a birthday coming up, don't you, missy?" Officer Cash asked.

"Eight more days."

"Got anything special planned?"

Amber shrugged. "I'm scheduled to work that day and I'm pretty beat after a shift, so I doubt I'll be in the mood for much else." At least, that's the excuse she was using. Since working at the asylum, not very many of her college friends seemed willing to make time for her. She figured they were either afraid to be associated with someone who had direct contact with Gotham's Infamous Rogues, or because work called for her to be present so often that they didn't want to bother trying to include her in social events. Either way, Amber had begun to feel pretty lonely lately. At least she'd made friends with Joan and Gatsby.

"Holy snickerdoodles!"

Amber and Cash both turned to see Amelia gaping at something ahead of her. She stood to peer over the wall of men and saw another group of security guards escorting Killer Croc into the cafeteria for his breakfast. On file, his name was Waylon Jones, but Amber doubted anyone ever called him that. The man was born with an extreme genetic condition of epidermolytic hyperkeratosis which gave him scale-like skin and made him look like a crocodile. Tired of all the ridicule he faced while growing up, Waylon embraced the 'Croc' nickname his tormentors had given him and began to enhance his appearance by filing his teeth and nails until they were fangs and talons. His frame filled out and sported muscles that overshadowed Bolton's and he'd developed a taste for the occasional human flesh, much to Aaron Cash's chagrin. All these things Amber knew were the product of the work of a human being and genetics. But to Amelia Rose, A.K.A the Monster Hunter…

"What. Is. That!"

Explaining the truth wasn't going to work. Thinking fast, Amber tried to come up with something plausible enough that might not set the girl off. "A – uh – mmh – zzzaaaah – alien."

Amelia blinked. "…Really?"

"Mmh-hmm."

Amelia turned back to look at Croc and stared for several tense seconds. "…Okay," she replied brightly.

"What – really?"

"Yep."

"You're not going to attack him?"

"I deal with monsters, not E.T."

"Seriously?"

"My uncles told me all about it. We don't deal with aliens. Unless they're possessed."

"I have really got to have a talk with your uncles and figure out why they're not in here with you."

"They already did their time."

"What?"

"Puddiiiing!"

"What the –! How many of those do you have on you?"

"Well, that was a travesty to witness. Unless you were showing me how not to flirt with women, then I must say that was a stellar display."

Dent sagged into the seat next to Crane and buried his face in his arms. "Not my best moment," he mumbled.

"How long has it been since you've actually dated, Dent?"

"…"

"You're just as hopeless as I am, aren't you?"

"Shuddup."

"Make me, old man."

"I'll leave you to your own devices. How about that, Crane? Hmmm?"

Crane gazed across the room at Amelia and said nothing.

"That's what I thought."

Some giggling was heard and both men turned to seek out the source. It was Katherine, sitting rather cozily next to Nigma who had his arm about her shoulders. He whispered something in her ear and she burst into laughter. Nigma grinned. After about five minutes of this, Katherine rose from her seat and approached Nurse Amber to ask for some water. Nigma was left alone.

"You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?" Dent asked Crane.

"That we're both extremely desperate and have limited options?"

"Yep."

"Shall we?"

"Might as well."

They both got up and slid into the seats next to Nigma. "Hiya, Edward," Dent greeted.

Nigma looked them over. "What do you want?"

"Right, let's skip the pleasantries and get right to business," Crane agreed. "We need you to teach me how to flirt with women." Nigma stared at him in silence. Crane cleared his throat. "See, uh –"

"Crane's gone goo-goo-eyed over Amelia," Dent said, bluntly.

Crane raised his eyes to the ceiling and his hands clenched. "Must you phrase it that way?" he asked with extreme exasperation.

"I call it like it is."

"Perhaps you should consult your coin about that," Crane said, tersely. Dent subtly glanced at his coin and considered. "Not now!"

Dent quickly pocketed the coin. "Right; I knew that."

"So," Nigma broke in. "You and the new girl…"

"Yes," Crane answered, embarrassed.

"Katherine is going to flip when she hears about this –"

"Under no circumstance are you to tell her of this!"

"She practically knows already. She started shipping the two of you the moment Amelia came on the scene."

Crane's brows drew together in confusion. "…'Shipping'?"

"Don't ask," Nigma replied, waving away the question.

"Will you help me or not?"

"Why me exactly?"

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"Between the three of us, you're the only one who currently has a girlfriend and consistently had rather attractive female henchwomen in the past."

"Oh…"

"So…will you help us?"

Nigma scratched the back of his head. "Well, um, yes – I – I would. I really would, Jonathan. But, see, the thing is …" He coughed and what sounded like mumbled words could be picked out but not fully understood.

"Come again?" Crane asked.

Nigma repeated the action. Dent frowned. "Spit it out, man!" he ordered.

Nigma sighed. "I'm not exactly an expert when it comes to women, alright."

"But – but – Echo? And Query? All those other henchgirls? They wore biker leathers and fishnets for insanity's sake!" Dent argued.

"Echo, Query, and I all met quite by accident. We were all trying to rob the same place and we sort of hit it off."

"And Katherine?" Crane asked.

"She pursued me first."

Dent shook his head. "Useless," he grumbled.

"Ahem," a female voice interrupted. All three men looked up to see a disgruntled Katherine. She put her hands on her hips. "You're in my seat," she informed Crane.

Crane rose up with as much dignity as he could muster, nodded at Nigma then grabbed a fistful of Dent's uniform sleeve and hauled him along back to their original spots at the other table. "Well, that went brilliantly," he complained.

"We're not completely out of resources, Crane," Dent reminded him.

"Who else could we possibly ask in this room? Caleb and Jervis are a definite 'no', Tommy is doubtful; who else is there?"

"Weeeell…" Dent's eyes trailed away and lingered on another male figure at the far end of the opposite table.

Crane followed his gaze. The instant he recognized who Dent was suggesting, his head snapped back around. "No."

"He's been successful with women –"

"No."

"I know he's not the ideal person to ask –"

"Absolutely not."

"Desperate times –"

"I'm not that desperate!"

"Yet."

"Ever!"

"I hate the Joker's guts too, but the man has got undeniable sex appeal –" Dent paused and gagged. "Hang on, I think I threw up a little when I said that."

"Please, for the love of everything; do not finish that sentence."

"Agreed."

Crane ran his hands through his hair then adjusted his glasses. "Do you honestly think he could help me?"

"Harley Quinn wasn't the first, you know. She's just been the first gal crazy enough to stick around and last. And then there's Nurse Amber –"

Crane's perked up. "Really?"

"I mean, it isn't too obvious, but he's workin' on her sure as the sun rises –"

"Fascinating. And do you think she'll –"

"Nah. At least not for a long while."

"Very fascinating."

"Attention patients," Dr. Arkham's voice called out. "The members who will be overseeing this hearing are on their way. Form an orderly line and –"

"Woohoo! Road trip!" Amelia cried and began to dash towards the front.

Dr. Arkham lifted his hand to signal her to stop and said with exasperation, "Miss Rose, there isn't any road trip –"

"How can you have a road trip without the road trip! What insanity is this?"

"Would you please be on your best behavior?"

"I'll behave when you decide what you want to be, Shifter."

Dr. Arkham tilted his head in confusion. "Huh?"

Amelia narrowed her eyes. "You know what I'm talking about."

Luckily, Amber gave him a pointed nudge and Dr. Arkham took the hint to move on. Once the patients were lining up, Amber was told to go on ahead and wait for them at the meeting room. After about twenty minutes of waiting, she received a text from Cash telling her the delay was due to one of Caleb's 'bat' episodes when he overheard one of the guards mention the Batman stopping a robbery the other night. Cash told her he'd text her again when they had the situation under control and were on their way. Amber tucked away her phone and sat in one of the swivel chairs to wait it out.

"That's her! That's the nurse of those nut jobs!"

Amber's brows knitted together at the sound of a woman's excited voice coming from her right. She turned her head towards the window and let out an alarmed 'yipe!' A smartly dressed woman in her mid-thirties was peering in at her through the glass along with a camera crew. Behind her was an entourage of other reporters with their own crew, all clambering to get a good view.

"Miss Johnson!" the woman called, her microphone held out as if to catch any word Amber might say despite the glass between them. "Miss Johnson! I'm Summer Gleeson with Gotham News! Could I get a few words with you! What is your opinion of Officer Bolton? Do these criminals deserve justice? Is it true you hold a personal grudge against Lyle Bolton because of a recent breakup between you two?"

Amber hadn't known the public was aware of the hearing but judging by the growing number of vans and newscasters outside, it had become very popular.

"Miss Johnson!"

"Nurse Johnson!"

"Do you blame the Wayne Foundation for the abuse of your patients?"

"Do you prefer to be called Amber?"

"Miss Johnson! Miss Johnson!"

Amber scrambled to her feet and dashed towards the windows. She grabbed the turn stick to close the blinds and twisted it as fast as she could. The reporters gave cries of disappointment but realized there were more windows and shuffled to the next. Summer Gleeson pushed, shoved, kicked and elbowed her way to the front. "I will have my exclusive!" she demanded.

Oh no; she's one of those reporters, Amber thought with horror. She doubled her pace at closing the other blinds. She was almost finished when the last blind gave a loud click and the whole thing came crashing down on top of her. She clambered from underneath it and futilely hoped that the cameras hadn't been rolling when it happened. There were no curtains on the windows. She covered her ears in order to hear herself think over all the voices shouting questions.

"Miss Johnson! Over here, Miss Johnson!"

"Have you developed close relationships with any of your patients?"

"Miss Johnson, is it true you were witness to Lyle Bolton's torture sessions?"

"Miss, Johnson! Could you tell us what first tipped you off?"

Amber noticed the white board at the far end of the room. She ran towards it, grabbed hold of one end and wheeled it to the window. "I think she's going to write us a message, guys!" one of the reporters exclaimed gleefully. Amber slowed to a stop, uncapped a black expo marker from the bottom tray, and began to write. Since she was lefthanded she had to angle her arm awkwardly in order to not rub out the words. When she was finished, she pushed the whiteboard as close to the window as possible, effectively blocking any view into the meeting room. The message on the board read, in all-caps, BUZZ OFF!

Flopping into the swivel chair with a sigh, she sent a quick text to Cash alerting him to the presence of reporters outside of the asylum. She pulled out her iPod and stuffed the earbuds into her ears, wanting to drown out the noise behind the glass. After a few seconds into the song, she began to tap her feet in time to the music.

"Mental wounds not healing…" she sang aloud, but barely loud enough to be considered anything other than a whisper. "Life's a bitter shame…" she continued, a little louder this time.

"I gotta admit, I'm looking forward to meeting this Nurse Johnson. From what you tell me, she sounds like quite the character," Bruce Wayne commented as he, Dr. Arkham, and Commissioner Jim Gordon made their way down the hall towards the meeting room.

"Don't get your hopes up too high, Mr. Wayne," Dr. Arkham said. "She usually tries to be professional in front of the people she's just met. You have to catch her off guard in order to witness that personality so soon."

"Well," Bruce began, but paused and tilted his head to the side. "Does anyone else hear someone singing an Ozzy Osbourne song?" All three men listened intently.

"I hear it too," Gordon acknowledged. The group followed the sound and stopped in front of the door to the meeting room.

Bruce cracked a grin and placed his hand on the knob. "Shall we, gentlemen?" he asked. Opening the door, they found the source of the singing. Nurse Amber was jamming out in the center of the room, spinning rapidly in a swivel chair.

"I'm going off the rails on a crazy train!
I'm going off the rails on a crazy train!"

Bruce looked at Dr. Arkham. "I take it this is…?"

Arkham nodded. "It is."

"Wow. Not gonna lie, I actually thought you were exaggerating a little."

"Not one bit."

"I'm going off the rails on a crazy train!"

The chair's circulation slowed down enough for Amber to caught sight of her audience. Her eyes flew open as she came to a dead stop.

Arkham nodded. "Nurse Amber."

Amber returned the nod. "Dr. Arkham," she squeaked.

Bruce watched the exchange with a grin. "I take it this is a regular occurrence?"

"Oh yes. Quite normal," the doctor answered.

Bruce stepped forward, hand extended. "I'm Bruce Wayne."

Just when she thought her mortification had reached its limit, she recognized the tall, dark, and handsome man standing next to her boss before he introduced himself. He stood there with his hand out, waiting to shake hers, and Amber couldn't think of anything to say other than, "I know who you are, Mr. Wayne." As if his first impression of her wasn't bad enough, right?

She cleared her throat as she got up from the chair and walked forward to grasp his hand. "Amber Johnson." There was a flicker – a tiny flicker – of what looked like surprised recognition in his eyes, but it was gone just as quickly as it came, leaving her to wonder if she'd imagined it.

"When I first heard your suspicions about Mr. Bolton, I was so sure there had to be a mistake," Bruce said. "Now with everything that we've uncovered, I'm a bit unnerved that I recommended the man."

"I've been wanting to ask you, Mr. Wayne; who did you hire to track down all that information? Sounds like one heck of a detective to me."

Bruce gave a lazy shrug. "I have my sources."

"Aaah, a mystery. I love those."

"Seems we have that in common." Bruce gave a flirtatious wink that reminded her of his reputation as a playboy.

Commissioner Gordon glanced at his watch. "Mayor Hill should be arriving any moment. I could use a cup of coffee before we get started."

"Me too," Bruce agreed.

"There should be a fresh pot in the break room," Dr. Arkham informed them. "It's just around the corner to your right."

"Thanks, Jeremiah," Bruce said and followed Gordon out of the room.

As soon as the two of them were gone, Amber slumped into a humiliated crouch, much to Dr. Arkham's amusement. "How long were you watching?" she asked.

"About two minutes, I think." Arkham answered. "It was quite the performance."

"Joy. And you didn't think to signal me!"

"In the middle of a chorus?"

"Have you no shame?" Amber moaned and begrudgingly got to her feet. Her phone rang and "Carry on Wayward Son" by Kansas filled the air.

"You've got great taste in music, by the way," Dr. Arkham commented.

"Thanks," she mumbled and hit the answer button. "Hello?"

"We've just got everything settled and we're heading your way again," Officer Cash told her.

"Super."

Less than two minutes later, nearly two dozen guards and orderlies filed into the room with the patients in tow. The first of her charges to enter the room was the Joker. "Hi-ya, peaches," he greeted.

"Best behavior today, got it?" Amber reminded him.

He scoffed and put a hand over his heart. "As if I act otherwise."

After being frisked for weapons again, the security guards had the patients line up against the wall and each were given an assigned seat. Once they were settled, Amber asked if she could have a moment alone with her patients. Dr. Arkham nodded and all but five guards left the room. Amber knew that was as alone as she was going to get so long as they weren't cuffed or behind bars. "Okay, guys. This is it. This is the moment you can finally confess everything Bolton's been doing to you."

"And what makes you think those people actually care if we're suffering," Crane asked, sardonically, jerking his chin towards the windows where the sound of reporters could still be heard.

"Because we wouldn't be here if they didn't."

"Wrong, peaches," the Joker interrupted. "We're here because it looks bad on the asylum and the Wayne Foundation if patient abuse is happening with their knowledge. If it had been any other person to recommend Bolton, the public could care less."

"That's a rather cynical way of looking at it," Amber remarked.

"It's unfortunately true, Nurse Amber," Nigma said.

Amber looked around at all their faces to find expressions mirroring what was being said. None of them thought there was a real chance that they'd be heard not out of concern for their well-being, but out of reluctant duty. "Well, I don't care if that's what got us here," Amber said, heatedly. "So long as you're in this meeting room, you'll be given the chance to be heard and no one can say that they had no idea what was going on. Would you rather Bolton continue what he's doing?"

Several faces turned a shade of white and no one spoke a word.

"Then for goodness sake, speak up when it's your turn. Tell them what's been going on! I will not have that man come back to Arkham Asylum so he can terrorize you and the other patients! Do you understand me?"

The Joker chuffed softly and a small smile curled the corner of his mouth. "Whatever you say, peaches," he said lazily.

Bruce Wayne stealthily slid away from the side of the doorway and made his way back to the breakroom. He'd returned to ask if anyone else wanted coffee, only to find Amber with a handful of guards and the patients in the room instead. He'd overheard everything she'd said and wondered himself; what was the real reason that this hearing was taking place? It was obvious just from listening that Nurse Johnson was one of the few souls left in Gotham to believe in fairness to all people. Even the Rogues. How was it possible that someone who worked at the asylum and encountered them nearly every day, speak with such passion and concern for them?

The gavel rang out and the people in the room quietened down, even the voices outside went silent, no doubt in order to strain their ears to listen. At the front of the room was a long table at which sat, Dr. Arkham, Bruce Wayne, Mayor Hamilton Hill, and Commissioner Gordon. In the center of the room was a smaller table that normally would have been room enough to seat two people but it's current occupant, Lyle Bolton, dwarfed the piece of furniture. Two muscled guards stood behind him.

Dr. Arkham stood from the larger table and announced, "I've called this informal inquest to address certain allegations brought to my attention."

Gordon leaned over and whispered, "Are you sure this hearing was necessary, Wayne?"

"Bolton was brought to Arkham on a Wayne Foundation Grant. With his knowledge of high-tech security systems, I thought he was the perfect man for the job."

Bolton could be seen straining to overhear what Bruce and Gordon were talking about, but he only caught bits and pieces. With a burst of anger, he raised his voice and the veins of his neck could clearly be seen, "If anyone objects to my methods –" He stopped suddenly, thought better of his actions and instantly switched gears. His voice turned reasonable. "Please," he smiled and threaded his fingers together to rest his chin atop his knuckles, "tell me."

"The person who has been the most vocal about your methods, Mr. Bolton, is Nurse Amber Johnson," Dr. Arkham informed him.

"Of course she is," Bolton muttered.

"What was that, Mr. Bolton?"

"I said, 'please, let her speak.'"

"Miss Johnson," Mayor Hill called, "Please come forward." Amber took a deep breath and stood from her seat at the very back and crossed the room to stand a few feet away from Bolton's left. "Please state your name and your position at Arkham Asylum," Mayor Hill requested.

"My name is Amber Johnson. I'll have been working as a nurse at Arkham Asylum for two years this upcoming September."

"And what are your duties here?"

"I've been charged with the responsibility and care of a group of patients mostly consisting of those known as the Gotham Rogues."

"And are all these people seated behind you your patients?"

"They are."

"Would you please state their names, some of them I recognize from the news, but some of them I don't."

Amber smiled. "With all due respect, sirs, as you can see, my group is rather on the large side, so I took the liberty of printing each of you a list with all of my patients' names." Dr. Arkham gave her a subtle nod of approval. She waited a moment for the men to look over the list and make eye contact with her again.

"I assume these other papers here are your allegations against Mr. Bolton, correct?" Commissioner Gordon asked, leafing through the small stack.

"Yes, sir."

"These are pretty serious, Miss Johnson."

"Yes, they are, Commissioner Gordon. I wouldn't have pursued the matter if they hadn't been." Gordon gave a nod of acknowledgment to her words.

"Besides your written testament, is there anything you feel that you must add to your allegations, Miss Johnson?" Mayor Hill asked.

"I would."

"Go ahead then."

Amber cast a quick glance over her shoulder at her charges. "I just wanted to bring something up to bring things in perspective for you, sirs. When I first began to suspect Mr. Bolton of mistreating the patients, I asked them myself if anything was going on. At first, they refused to admit anything. Take a look at those names and faces again, gentlemen."

They all did so.

"Some of the people sitting behind me are considered the most feared criminals in Gotham City. And one of them is possibly the most dangerous man in the country."

"Ah, shucks, Amber," the Joker cooed.

Amber rolled her eyes and continued. "Despite their reputations, all of them were too afraid to speak up about Mr. Bolton's treatment of them. If the Gotham Rogues are afraid of this man – then what is he doing to them?"

"They're in an asylum for the criminally insane," Bolton interrupted. "They'd say anything."

"You completely missed the part about them not saying anything at first, didn't you?" Amber said through gritted teeth.

"Buuuuuurn!" Katlyn cackled.

"That'll be all," Mayor Hill said. "I understand the patients are here to give their own testaments?"

"They are," Dr. Arkham answered.

"Let's hear what they have to say."

"Finally! Alright, now that we've got the introductions out of the way, I'm ready to reside over this trial," Katherine declared as she stood from her seat. She looked around the room. "Where's the judge's chair?"

"Excuse me, Miss – uh…?" Mayor Hill said, staring quizzically at her.

"Katherine. But you can call me Judge Katherine for today. After all, you men did ask me to take the stand and I will. Although, I would much prefer to sit because trials can be long, but so long as I get to wear the wig and robes, I won't complain much."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"As if you don't know!" Her eyes fell on the gavel he held in his hand and she gasped. Putting a hand to her chest and looking thoroughly insulted, she said, "How dare you try to take this job from me! What credentials do you have to be the judge – what experience do you have – how do we know you haven't been bribed –"

Mayor Hill banged the gavel. "That is enough! Be silent!"

"Best listen to him, kitten," Nigma whispered and tugged her back into her seat.

Katherine pointed two fingers at her eyes then at Mayor Hill. "Unworthy," she hissed.

Dr. Arkham was about to speak when movement caught his eye. The last patient had arrived, carried in by the orderly, Mark Griffin. Literally. He hands gripped Amelia under the armpits while her head and legs were tucked in as close as possible to her body. "Mr. Griffin, why are you carrying her like that?"

"She wouldn't move 'cause I told her Mr. Bolton was in here. She said she refused to see the ogre –"

"Ogre?" Bruce repeated.

"She means Bolton, Mr. Wayne," Mark explained. "She calls him the ogre."

"And why is she like this?"

"Well, I started to carry her in and she hollered about how she hates it when her legs dangle and so…" He trailed off and held her up a little higher as if to say, "See?"

Dr. Arkham rubbed his eyelids and sighed. "Very well, Mr. Griffin. Just take her to her seat, please."

Crane kept his face perfectly blank as Mark set her down in the chair next to his. After a moment, Amelia uncurled herself, looked around, saw Crane next to her, gave a happy chirp and settled into her seat. Crane schooled his features to remain neutral. Conceal – don't feel, conceal – don't feel!

"Could Miss Harley Quinn please come forward?" Dr. Arkham asked.

She was roughly lifted from her seat to be carried to a chair with armrests that was situated between the large table and Bolton's table. It was facing out, so that each table was on either side of the sitter. They plopped her into it and she stuck out her tongue at the guards as they walked away.

"Miss Quinn," Dr. Arkham addressed. "Do you have any complaints against Mr. Bolton?"

Harley's blond pigtails moved around as she looked from the board towards Amber. "Go on," Amber mouthed. Harley opened her mouth but made the mistake of meeting Bolton's eyes when she was turning to face the board again. He stared blankly at her then his features morphed into a false smile. She was familiar with that smile. Bad things happened when he made that smile.

Harley settled back in her chair and focused her gaze on the floor. "I got nothin' ta say."

Dr. Arkham gave a start. "But surely you must have something you wish –"

Harley's head snapped up and she glared at him. "You got a hearin' problem or somethin'! No – nadah – ixnay – zero – zilch – bupkis – nothin' – okaaay!"

"Harley," Amber said with dismay.

"She said she's got nothin' to say about me, Nurse Johnson," Bolton said with an infuriating smirk.

Amber looked toward Dr. Arkham, pleading. He gazed back with understanding, but shrugged as if to say, "What can we do?" Aloud, he said, "If we could move on to the next patient, please? Mr. Harvey Dent."

He was brought forward, replacing Harley in the chair. Dent rubbed the surface of his coin and glanced around. "It's alright. I promise you can speak freely here," Dr. Arkham said in a friendly voice.

Dent began to sweat as he snuck a peek at Bolton. Bolton tossed that same smile at him. Dent gulped and turned to answer the board. "Mr. Bolton, he…" he looked at Bolton again and the smile turned cold. "He's a…"

"He's a what, Mr. Dent?" Dr. Arkham encouraged. Bolton narrowed his eyes at Dent.

" – A hard worker!" Dent yelped. "A real stand up guy! No complaints here, chief!"

Bolton sat back in his chair, arms folded and a smug smile on his face. He aimed it towards Amber and it took everything in her not to launch herself at him. He was intimidating her patients! How could the others not see it?

Dr. Arkham stood up and clutched the edge of the table as he spoke. "Professor Crane, you've been sitting here for ten minutes. Don't you have anything to say?"

Crane wouldn't even look up from the floor. "No, sir," he said with a shake of his head. Bruce leaned closer, unable to believe what he was seeing.

"And yet yours was one of the loudest voices in the protest," Bolton taunted, masking his voice to sound curious. "You must have some misgivings about my methods?"

Crane's hands tightened into fists on his knees, but still he didn't look up. "It seems I was mistaken."

Amber paced in the back, drawing Bruce's attention. He watched her as she gave Bolton death-glares and visibly restrained herself from interrupting. Patient after patient was given a chance to speak and each of them said they had no complaints. Bruce was painfully aware that something wasn't right and judging by the looks on the other men's faces, they suspected the same thing. But nothing could be done unless the patients said something here and now!

The final patient sat in the chair. As the Joker lounged in the chair as if it were a lazy-boy, every officer in the room put a hand on their gun and watched him closely. It seemed as if the whole room was holding their breath. If there was anyone who stood a chance against Bolton's intimidation tactics, it was the Joker.

"Mr. Joker," Dr. Arkham began. "This will be you're only chance to speak if you have any complaints against Mr. Bolton."

The Joker smirked at Bolton. "Oh, where do I begin…" Bolton smirked back but his eyes didn't remain locked with the Joker's. They slowly moved to the side, a signal for the Joker to follow his line of sight. Bolton's gaze landed on Amber and stayed.

The Joker's smirk remained fixed but seemed more forced now. Bolton leisurely brought his gaze back to the Joker and his smile held a promise now. The Joker glanced at Amber – who was unaware of the attention –, Bolton, then returned his attention to the board. He flashed them a wide grin. "Can't exactly begin when there's nothing there to start with, now can I?"

Amber's mouth dropped. "What?!" she said loudly enough for all to hear.

"Ar – are you sure, Mr. Joker. May I remind you –"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, doc. Only chance – speak now or forever hold your peace. I got it."

Amber put a hand to her forehead as she watched everything unravel before her eyes. She looked at Bolton. The smirk on his face was infuriating. She couldn't let him get away with this. Moving forward until she stood directly in front of the Joker, Amber said, "He's intimidating them, sir! If we could just remove him from the room –"

"And deny me my right to defend myself against any false allegations?" Bolton interrupted, sounding like the wronged victim.

Amber whirled around and glared daggers at him. "No, merely denying you the opportunity to manipulate their testimonies," she snapped.

The gavel banged on the table. "That is enough!" Mayor Hill declared.

Amber's mouth closed but the glare remained as she and Bolton stared one another down. The Joker's eyes rapidly flicked back and forth between them. Stand down, peaches… He'll rip you apart.

Bruce Wayne decided to take a chance. "Well then," he said, smiling cheerfully as he stood. "Based on today's testimony, I propose extending Mr. Bolton's contract for an additional eighteen months."

An audible gasp was heard from the patients and suddenly they were all on their feet. "No! You can't!" Jervis cried, one hand clutching at his own throat in terror. "You don't know what he's doing to us!"

Dent kicked him in the back of the legs. "Shut up! Don't listen to jerk-face here, he doesn't know what he's saying!"

Harley rammed her elbow into his stomach then grabbed him by the shirt collar. "No – it's all true! If we don't speak up now, we'll never get another chance!"

Amber let out a barely audible, but triumphant hiss of, "Yes," and pumped her fist.

Harley kept going. "He threatens us – takes away our privileges, even when we're good!"

Bolton rose to his full height. "We've heard enough of this nonsense," he growled.

Crane pointed an accusatory finger. "He says scum like us must be kept in line! That's why he chains us down at night and electrifies our doors!"

"He waits until Nurse Amber leaves for the night or has the day off!" Tommy Tetch pipped up.

"He held my coin over a container of corrosive acid, you hear me?! Corrosive acid!" Dent screeched.

"He filled my watering can with a chemical that destroyed my precious roses!" Ivy sobbed. "Then he held me down and poured it on me!"

"He's an animal!" Harley shouted.

"A monster!" Nigma joined in.

"Keep him away!" Ivy hollered.

All the while, Bolton's body had begun to shake with fury and it all came bursting out in a roar. "SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU!" He lunged towards them and the two guards standing by caught him by the arms and restrained him. A third guard hurried over to help when it became apparent that two just wouldn't do. Harley let out a cry of alarm when Bolton kicked the table in their direction and it crashed only inches away. With a surge of strength, Bolton threw off the guards and made to run at the patients again.

Two more officers dashed forward to stop him and Amber, out of protective instinct, moved to join them when she felt a hand grip her wrist like a vice and refuse to let go no matter how hard she pulled. She turned to yell at whoever was keeping her and got a shock. The Joker's impassive face stared back. She stopped struggling and his grasp loosened ever-so-slightly, but only enough so that he wouldn't cut off her blood circulation. "Joker…"

"Hush, peaches." He stood from the chair and pulled her along with him to the wall, as far as possible from the action.

Bolton punched one of the guards in the face with enough force to knock him off his feet and jammed his elbow into the gut of the other guard who tried to come up behind him and put him in a headlock. Winded, the guard could do nothing as Bolton twisted around and hoisted him over his head and threw him as if he weighed nothing! Some of the patients began to back away.

"The ogre has been angered!" Amelia declared.

"Yeah, no duh!" Katherine said.

Amelia lifted a pudding cup. "Attaaaaack!" She threw it and it bounced off Bolton's shoulder. He whirled around and glared, growling like an animal. Amelia's eyes went wide in surprise. "Whoa," she said, a little impressed.

"Oh yeah, that totally worked," Katherine remarked, taking a couple of steps back.

Bolton snarled and charged at them. Nigma and Crane darted forward and grabbed their gals, carrying them away. "Retreeeeeeeat!" Amelia declared, a fist lifted into the air as if she were being carried off by a noble steed instead of a nearly six-foot, thin as a board man in his early thirties.

"You've been working out, haven't you?" Katherine noted, squeezing Nigma's arms as he too hurried along while holding her bridal style. Bolton chased after them. Bruce Wayne calmly stood beside the chair the patients had been occupying and waited. When Lyle was too close to alter his course, Bruce casually lifted his foot and tipped the chair over directly into Bolton's path. His feet tripped over it and he went flying face-first to the floor. Five guards tackled and pinned him to the ground.

Amber tugged her wrist in the Joker's grasp, signaling she wanted to regroup with the other patients. The Joker seemed to consider something, then led the way. He never relinquished his hold on her hand. Amber found she didn't mind at the moment. Of all the people in the room, she felt safer standing close to the Joker. Him; the most dangerous criminal in Gotham! Isn't life funny?

Pulled to his feet, Bolton spat poisonously at the patients huddled together. "You're all scum! You should be beaten within an inch of your misbegotten lives!"

"I've seen enough!" Mayor Hill shouted, bringing down the gavel.

"So have I," Dr. Arkham agreed. "Lyle Bolton, you're dismissed; effective immediately!"

Bolton's attention was drawn from the group as Amber and the Joker joined them. His eyes were snagged by the sight of the Joker's hand wrapped around Amber's wrist. She didn't seem too worried about it. And he didn't appear to be hurting her. Bolton's heaving chest slowed as realization kicked in. All those rumors swirling about the asylum…

"When I first came here," Lyle hissed, turning his attention back to Dr. Arkham. "Arkham was a revolving door for every maniac in Gotham. I kept them in. Me! Now I realize I was wrong to punish those pathetic miscreants!"

"Get him out of here," Commissioner Gordon ordered. The guards obeyed, or at least tried to. Lyle Bolton was determined to have his say and strained to slow the guards' progress of moving him out of the room.

"They're only symptoms! You're the cause! The gutless police – mindless bureaucrats –" his gaze shifted towards Dr. Arkham and Amber, his voice becoming louder with each word " – and coddling doctors! You should all be locked up in a cage without a key!" He dug his heels into the floor just as the guards were pulling him past Amber. "And you," he hissed. "You think you've got him wrapped around your finger, sweetheart? Just you wait. Eventually, he's gonna turn on ya. And I'm gonna be there the day he does. That is if he doesn't get to you before I do."

It came out of nowhere. The Joker's fist slammed into Bolton's face with a sickening crunch and an explosion of blood. Several shouts were heard and two officers pushed the Joker's upper body onto the long table with his arms pinned down.

"Hold him until Bolton's out of the room!" Commissioner Gordon barked.

Through the blood, Bolton's eyes remained fixed on Amber and the Joker. A sly smirk curled his split lips, "I knew it," he chuckled under his breath and finally allowed the guards to drag him out of the room.

They took him to the medical wing first to check if his nose was broken. It was. And they discovered the Joker had knocked two teeth out of his mouth. A third one was dangerously loose. A nurse cleaned the blood off his face as gingerly as possible around the broken nose, put some stiches on his split lips, then the guards chucked him outside of the asylum; the double doors slamming shut behind him. They hadn't even let him clean out his locker or his desk.

"Mr. Bolton!" Summer Gleeson and her entourage jogged towards him, microphones extended. "Any comments about your dismissal and the charges of extreme behavior?" Camera's flashed, more microphones were shoved at his face.

"This city is an open wound begging to be stitched," Bolton replied in a detached voice. Then, without another word, Lyle Bolton walked towards the parking lot, got in his car, and drove away.

"Man, I'm glad that's over," Amber sighed, letting her head lull back as she sat in a swivel chair; her charges were gathered around her. The Joker had been released and now sat in the swivel chair next to hers. He stretched out a long leg and lightly pushed at the side, making her chair spin a little.

"Weee," she cheered tiredly. The Joker's lips quirked ever so slightly. He'd been awfully quiet since Bolton's mental break down. The Joker continued to spin her chair like that for a couple more minutes then stopped when he noticed Bruce Wayne lurking in the door way.

"Rich boy pansy's say 'whaaat'."

"What?" Bruce asked, not sure he'd understood. Some of the patients snickered and the Joker cracked a grin, but it seemed half-hearted to Amber.

"Nurse Johnson, may I speak with you for a moment?" Bruce asked.

"Uh, sssure," she responded, curiously.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Harley joked.

"And what exactly would that be?" Amber retorted good-naturedly as she moved to stand, only to be blocked by the Joker's legs as they plopped onto her lap. He slouched in his chair and looked like he was getting comfy. "Joker," Amber said.

"Hmm?"

"Legs."

"Yes, I know they're nice, but please keep your hands to yourself, 'kay, sweetheart?"

"Joker," Amber said again, a little more sharply.

He sighed. "Alright, alright," he mumbled and retracted his legs from her lap. Bruce watched the interaction with extreme interest. She finally managed to make her way over to Bruce and they stepped aside from the open doorway. Harley noticed the Joker watching them intently.

"I just wanted to say that I really admired what I saw in you today."

Amber's brow wrinkled, but she smiled. "What you saw in me?"

"The dedication you had to making sure your patients were heard. The indignation you expressed when Bolton treated them unfairly. Despite their reputations, you treat them as if they're anyone else."

Amber looked to her left to peer into the room at her charges. They were all gathered together, chatting amicably with each other. A fond smile graced her features. "I don't know when I stopped seeing them as these larger than life icons. Don't get me wrong, I never forget that they're dangerous, but…."

"They seem to have relatively good behavior," Bruce commented.

"GLITTER!" Amelia crowed as she dashed about the room and flung handfuls of it into the air and at the guards faces. She came to a screeching halt in front of Bruce Wayne and looked up at him. "Hey," she said and held up a palm full of glitter. "Bless yourself! Puh!" She blew into her hand and the glitter flew into Bruce's face and all over his suit. Amber stood with her mouth wide open in shock as Amelia ducked back into the room, leaving them alone once more.

"Like I said," Bruce went on, his eyes still closed to keep the tiny particles out. "Relatively good behavior." He blindly fumbled for a handkerchief in his inner suit's pocket and wiped at his face. He gave an amused smile when the 'kerchief came away completely covered in glitter. "Keep up the amazing work, Nurse Johnson. It was nice running into you again." He turned to go.

"Yeah, you too – hey, wait. When did we meet before?" Amber asked, but either he was too far ahead to have heard her of he was choosing to ignore her question.

"You gonna tell us what this is all about, peaches," the Joker asked as he and the others followed Amber to the cafeteria. Lunch time had ended two hours ago, so what was she bringing them here for?

"I know you guys had to miss lunch due to the hearing. Plus, I thought we could have a little celebration now that Bolton's gone."

"We're going to have ice cream?" Amelia asked excitedly.

"She said we're going to celebrate," Katherine clarified.

"Right, ice cream."

"Ce-le-bra-tion," Katherine enunciated.

"Ice-cream," Amelia said back in the same tone.

"How am I being unclear?"

"Celebration – ice cream; same thing, right?"

"If I can find some ice cream, I'll get some for all of you," Amber said with a laugh.

Amelia smiled up at Katherine and stage-whispered, "If you say it enough, eventually, it has to happen, giantess."

"For the last friggin' time – I'm not a giant! You're just really short!"

"How tall are you again, squirt?" the Joker teased.

"Six foot," Katherine mumbled.

"Giantess!" Amelia confirmed, pointing a finger at her.

"Midget!" Katherine responded in the same fashion.

"Children!" Amber called. "If we're done calling each other names, you can all go sit at the table, behave for the nice orderlies, and wait for me to bring you some ice cream. 'Kay?"

As everyone passed her, Katherine pulled two objects, both about the size of a pen, from her back waistband and looked at them with a conniving smirk. "We'll show her, won't we?"

"Kitten, aren't you coming?"

"Be right there!" She hastily tucked them back into her waistband and covered them with her shirt.

Crane knew that if Dent was aware of what he was doing, he'd never hear the end of it. Even after insisting he'd never be so desperate. Yet here he was, observing the Joker. Not for academic purposes, oh no. This was for the purpose of picking up some tips of how to act around women. If he could learn something without actually having to go to the Joker personally, that would be great! Because if there was one person besides Dent who would cling to such a humiliating moment and use it as a weapon, it was the Joker. That was not an option. Ever. Unfortunately, Crane would sometimes become sidetracked with his observations. He noticed a difference in the way the Joker interacted with Harley and Nurse Amber. It fascinated him. He temporarily forgot the reason why he'd begun to observe the Joker and went into professor mode.

Subtle, yet obvious to those who pay attention. He has more patience with Amber. He…plays with her. He tolerates Harley, but nearly tore into Bolton when he hurt her.

But the biggest tell of all…

His eyes constantly seek Amber out. Why? Why does he look for her? Does he enjoy taunting her that much? The other orderlies would be better suited for his taunts if he wants to make them uneasy. Amber doesn't run –

It was like a light bulb clicked on in his head.

"….She doesn't run away from him."

"Who doesn't run?" Katherine asked, suddenly standing next to him. A strangled scream rose out of him as he flinched about four feet away. Katherine's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Geez, Scarecrow, didn't take you for the jumpy sort."

"Find me a man who would stand stock-still in this situation and I will pay you a thousand dollars."

"Where were you?" she asked.

"I've been here the whole time."

"Physically, yes, but mentally you were somewhere else."

"I often am so that I don't have to suffer the tediousness of the lower class and uneducated."

"Snob."

"Shall I find Caleb and start a lively discussion about a certain flying nocturnal mammal?"

Katherine glared.

"That's what I thought," Crane said, smugly.

"I'm starting to wonder why I felt the need to ship you with her instead of letting you be miserable," Katherine grumbled and turned on her heel.

There was that word again. Shipping. Nigma's voice echoed in his head. "She started shipping the two of you the moment Amelia came on the scene."

"What is shipping?" he asked.

Katherine whirled around. "Who told!" she demanded.

"Nigma mentioned something about you shipping me with Amelia and I'm unfamiliar with the term." Another lightbulb clicked on. "Wait, 'shipping'… Does it have anything to do with the word 'relationship'?"

"...Maybe."

"You want Amelia and I to get together?"

"….Maaaybe."

Crane leaped up and grasped her by the arms. "At last! An option that doesn't make me appear too desperate! And the fact that you're a woman makes it even better!" The expression on his face was one Katherine recognized as joy but it looked so foreign on him that it kinda freaked her out a little.

"Explain now or else I'm punching you in the face and running like heck," she warned him.

Crane released her and took a respectable step back. "I would like to pursue Amelia. That is – in the romantic sense of the word and not the stalking kind."

The grin that slowly worked its way onto Katherine's face grew bigger and bigger until it looked unnatural. "My. Ship. Has. SAAAAAAAAIIIIILED!"

Crane cringe at the attention her shout was attracting. He took her by the arm and walked her to a less populated part of the cafeteria. "Would you keep it down, please? I'd prefer to be as discrete as possible."

Katherine clapped giddily and bounced on her feet. "This is going to be epic!" she loudly whispered. "First my Jamber ship begins to get some wind in its sails and now the Cramelia turns out to already have a captain at the helm! Aaah! Happiness!"

Crane blinked as he stared impassively at her. "You lost me."

"Never mind, just give me the details. What steps have you taken to show her you're interested? Was it the sunflower seeds?"

"Why does everyone bring up the sunflower seeds? It's simply the logical thing to do when one notices that a certain food keeps her calm."

"Happy wife, happy life."

"He said the same thing," Crane remarked in bewilderment.

"Who did? Who else brought them up?"

"Dent. He tried to give me some 'pointers' before the hearing."

"Hold on," Katherine said, turning to leave.

"Where are you going?"

"To gather a crew!"

"….What?"

She returned a few minutes later with a confused Dent in tow. "What did you just get me into?" he asked the moment he spotted Crane. The professor held up his hands in a 'I have no idea' gesture.

"Since I am without a proper minion, you'll have to do," Katherine said.

"I'm nobody's minion," Dent growled.

Katherine patted his arm placatingly. "Yes, yes; I'm well aware. But we must make some sacrifices for the sake of our ships."

Crane looked worriedly at Dent. "She's referring to relationships as ships again. Make her stop."

"As if I have the power to stop her level of crazy?" Dent remarked.

"Point made."

"Ahem!" Katherine sounded to get their attention. "Dent and I will be your 'wingmen' for this endeavor."

"Why do I not feel comforted?" Crane mumbled.

"Did you give him any advice, Dent?"

"I – uh – yeah, you could say that," Dent stammered, avoiding Crane's eyes.

"Wow, you must suck."

Dent glared but said nothing.

"Okay, have you tried asking anyone else?"

"We tried Nigma, but –"

"Don't even finish what you're about to say. Obviously, his wise advice was too much for you to keep up with, so you moved on to someone else…" Her brow furrowed in puzzlement. "Actually, no. There's no one else you could have moved on to, is there? Jervis and Tommy and Caleb are just – no. So who else would you have …." She trailed off as the Joker's wild cackling rang out in the cafeteria. Her eyes went wide. "Dear God, please tell me you didn't go to him."

"I didn't go to him," Crane quickly assured her. She sighed with relief. "I've merely been observing the way he interacts with women in order to pick up on some ideas –"

"Are you out of your mind!" Katherine shouted.

Crane gave her a blank stare, pointedly looked around at their location, and said with deep sarcasm. "It's quite possible."

"So much for not being that desperate, eh, Jonathan?" Dent snickered.

"Sweat soaked terror for a month," Crane reminded him in a sing-song tone. Dent instantly went quiet.

Katherine rubbed her forehead. "Why, why, why did you think he was a good choice?"

"Well, I gotta admit, the man has confidence –" Dent began, but Katherine cut him off with a look. "Yes, you're right. It was a terrible, terrible idea. Shame on you, Crane, for even considering it."

Crane made a noise as if he were about to protest but Katherine once again interrupted. "Okay, we gotta start at square one. We'll make it simple. Let's think about stuff you want to say to her. Tell her how she makes you feel."

Crane paled. "Aloud?"

"You could write her a letter," Dent suggested.

"Ooh! That's a good idea," Katherine agreed eagerly. "Letters are good. Chicks like letters." Dent puffed out his chest proudly.

Crane rubbed the back of his neck as he mulled over the idea. "It doesn't sound too bad."

"Great! It's settled!" Katherine and Dent pushed Crane into a chair. "You should get started now."

"And what do you suggest I write this letter on? Hmm? The table?"

"Maybe you could write the first draft in the back pages of that tiny notebook you always carry to write down your observations?" Dent hinted.

Crane looked straight ahead. "I don't know what you're referring to."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. We'll leave you to it," Dent said, placing a hand on Katherine's shoulder and walking away.

"But I want to watch," Katherine whined.

Crane stubbornly waited until they were distracted by the others before he pulled out the tiny notebook – that most definitely did not contain notes about his observations of the patients – and began to write.

Katherine patiently waited for Amelia's attention to drift her way. But after three minutes her patience wore thin and she decided to take matters into her own hands. She'd purposefully walk into Amelia's line of sight, remain there long enough for her to get a brief glimpse of her while she was wearing her black paper mâché horns, then duck behind someone or drop and roll beneath a table and remove the horns so she could pop up and have Amelia catch her without them.

After watching her do this several times and witnessing the confusion on Amelia's face, Nigma couldn't take it anymore and hunkered down to join Katherine under a table. He caught her reattaching the horns and about to crawl out again, but he grabbed her by the ankle. "Wait a moment. Just what are you doing?"

Katherine scoffed. "I thought it was obvious?"

"Kitten, if the Prince of Puzzles himself is asking you what you're up to then it may not be too farfetched to believe that your actions are a bit vague."

"I see your point and I find it valid. Okay," she turned round and her eyes practically shone with devilish mischief, "So, I've gotten tired of Amelia thinking I'm a giant –"

"Giantess," Nigma corrected.

Katherine's eye twitched. "Don't start with me," she threatened.

"…Continue."

"I know she's calling me that because I'm so tall and doesn't think I can be anything cooler. So, I'm going to prove her wrong."

"How?"

"By making her think I'm a demon."

Nigma looked at the horns atop her head. They were rather well done. "And you think that paper mâché horns are going to sell her on the idea?"

"Of course not." She pulled out a pair of fangs. "That's what these are for." Without waiting for a response, she stuck the fangs onto her canines, adjusted her horns, and scrambled out from under the table.

"Oh, there is no way I am missing this!" Nigma quickly followed suit.

"Hey, Crane, want some ice cream?" Amber asked as she passed him at the table. Crane mumbled something that sounded like, "Later," and gave a distracted, yet dismissive wave of his hand without looking up from writing in his notebook. A bit curious as to what had his attention, Amber peered at the book. Once she realized it seemed a bit personal, she started to walk away but stopped as a chill of unease came over her. That handwriting…

Amber backed up until she was standing behind Crane once more and took a longer, more focused look at Crane's writing. The sense of unease began to spiral inside her chest as she realized she definitely recognized Crane's handwriting. She'd been receiving letters from his for months after all…

Sensing her behind him, he turned in his seat, fixing her with an annoyed glare. "Do you mind?"

"It was you."

"Pardon?"

Amber reached overhead and snatched up his notebook. Crane jumped to his feet, indignation clearly evident on his face. "That is an invasion or privacy!"

Amber searched for the tell-tale letter. The unique formation that each of the mysterious letters had, and there it was. The same exact capital 'E'. Slanted, with the middle line crossing through on both sides. Crane had written the letters.

"It was you!" Amber shouted. "You wrote those letters to me, didn't you! Don't even try to deny it! I recognize your handwriting!"

Crane glanced between Amber and the notebook, aware that her outburst was drawing attention and not wanting her to pass the notebook around for others to read. Some of the others were already beginning to gather closer. The Joker was among them. Crane drew himself to his full height, assuming the detached air he always did when he was a professor and adjusted his glasses. "Yes, I did. Although, you can be rest assured that I did not write those letters out of some obsessive adoration towards you. I was performing an experiment."

"…What?"

"I wanted to observe and record the journey into paranoia of a mentally balanced woman who received fairly encouraging letters and how her mental state would fair when, over the course of time, those letters took a turn from secret admirer into a more stalkerish aspect."

Amber stood in dumbfounded shock for a few seconds. Then anger kicked in. Her hand reared back and went flying. It connected with Crane's face with a painfully loud smack! The force of her slap knocked Crane back a few steps. He stumbled and landed on his butt, looking up at her with wide blue eyes. A red handprint glowed on his cheek and stung viciously. A hush fell over the group. Amber's eyes looked dangerously close to tears.

When she spoke, her voice came in a hoarse whisper. "After everything I've done for you…I stood up for you guys. I stood between you and Bolton on a few occasions…and I still got those letters…What is wrong with you!" With savage aim, she threw the notebook at Crane's face, turned on her heel and stormed off.

With subdued murmurs, the group began to disperse and resume the festivities, but the Joker remained. He shook his head and 'tsk'ed'. "Even to a guy like me, that was cold."

"It was merely an experiment to gather research."

The Joker jerked his head in the direction Amber had disappeared. "Well, uh, in case you didn't notice; women don't like to be used as experiments."

"Dually noted," Crane remarked. He picked up his notebook and pen and began to jot something down.

The Joker walked around to take a look. His eyes widened. "Are you actually writing that down?"

Crane blinked up at him, nonplused. "Yes, of course. Why?"

The Joker gave a very exaggerated roll of his eyes and left Crane to his own devices. Somewhere in the room, Amelia could be heard letting out a screech of, "SATAAAAAAAAAN!"

"Knock, knock," the Joker called, rapping his knuckles against the break room door.

Amber glanced over her shoulder, then looked away. "You're not supposed to be in here."

"Never stopped me before."

"You're right. Don't know what I was thinking."

The Joker sauntered into the room, nonchalantly taking in the sights of the break room, then casually bent at the waist to peer sideways at Amber's face. She tried to turn away, but he still managed to see the glistening of tears on her cheeks. She sniffed and gave an annoyed huff. "Go away."

"Well that's gratitude for ya."

Amber scoffed. "Gratitude. I swear, the moment I think I'm making some sort of headway with any of you…," her voice caught and she swallowed. "Than something like this happens and it's like a kick to the gut."

"Why even try?" he asked, curious.

Amber shrugged. "I hate seeing people get mistreated. Even…"

"Even people like us?"

"I didn't mean –"

"I know. You're not like that. I know that much about you."

Amber sniffed again.

"…Want me to go beat him up?" the Joker offered with an eager grin.

Amber chuckled. "If it wasn't for the fact that I know you'd take me seriously, I would have said 'yes'. But I'll have to decline the offer."

The Joker 'tsk'ed in disappointment.

"…Joker?"

"Hm?"

"Earlier today…when you stopped me from going after Bolton…Thanks."

"Should have turned you loose on him. He'd have deserved everything you gave him."

"Amber smash," she joked.

They both chuckled and once again, Amber was struck at how normal a conversation they were having. Here she was with the most dangerous man in the city sitting next to her, cracking jokes and talking like he was any regular guy. How did he freakin' do it?! Amber realized it had gotten quiet and felt the Joker's eyes on her. There was a pregnant lull in the conversation. She could sense he was considering saying something.

"AMBER!"

"Saint Nicholas!" Amber exclaimed in surprise as Amelia dashed screaming into the breakroom. "What is it?"

"I was wrong about the giantess! She's a hybrid! She's a deantess!"

The Joker and Amber stared blankly at her.

"A demon giantess," Amelia explained sardonically.

"Ah," Amber and the Joker replied in unison.

"We must exorcise her and make her bath in a tub of salt water! Let's move it, people!" Amelia took off running out of the room without waiting for them to follow.

The Joker snickered as he slid off the table and headed for the door. "Well, you heard her, peaches. Better get on that salt bath."

Amber watched him go and was struck by something. "When did I stop caring that he calls me 'peaches'?"

(Wow, thirty-seven pages! Dang! That's a new record for this story. I hope this was entertaining for you. I have a question for you, Dear Readers; what song reminds you of Amber and the Joker? What would be their couple's theme song? Personally, my favorite is 'Latch' by Sam Smith and 'Nobody But Me' by Michael Bublé. I have a 'Jamber' playlist that I love to listen to when I write scenes featuring them together. The same question applies to Nigma and Katherine and Crane and Amelia. What would be their song? Please leave a review or PM me! I love to hear from you. Until next time, Dear Readers!)