Tuesday 9:15 AM

As soon as the noise from the gallery had quieted down, Ward cleared his throat. "Will the witness state their name for the record, please?"

Penelope heard, more than saw her friend's response. "Dr. Joan Leland, psychiatrist." Joan sat in the witness chair, facing the commission members with a perfect, professional poise. Greene and Roberts looked less than interested in her, while Bolton regarded her with a cold smirk.

"And how did you become involved in last year's incident with Victor Goodman?"

"I was his doctor when he was incarcerated in Arkham Asylum, ten years ago. When he became active again, I was asked to consult given that I had a past history with him."

Ward nodded. "Very well. Please describe your involvement in detail."

Penelope steeled herself as she watched this unfold. She couldn't afford to have another outburst. Today, she needed to pay as much attention to the manner in which the commission members conducted themselves as she did the questions they asked. She'd need as much 'ammunition' as Edward would call it as she could get for her own testimony. She wouldn't be caught in a trap like the GCPD officers had been. Just as yesterday, Wayne was sitting to her left, watching Joan's testimony with her. She felt him gently nudge her shoulder. "Joan hasn't been employed by Arkham Asylum for almost five years. What do they gain by throwing her under the bus?"

"Joan told me that she approved Goodman being paroled from Arkham," Penelope whispered. "They'll probably use that to justify stricter policies at the Asylum regarding releases." Not to mention that there was a past history between Strange and Leland as well. Strange wasn't above using proceedings like this to settle old scores. She turned her attention back to the commission members. Bolton was a thug, but he was an idiot. He only had as much power as Sharp and Strange allowed him to have. Roberts was a non-entity. Greene was sharp, but she was also a grand-stander. The best way to neutralize her was to show her up. That left Ward as the biggest threat. Penelope watched him as he paid attention to Joan's testimony. His black eyes were beady and narrowed as he focused in on her. Penelope's own eyes narrowed.

"Thank you, Dr. Leland," Ward said as Joan finished her account of the incident. "Now, I'd like to ask you questions regarding your treatment of Goodman at Arkham."

"Very well," Joan answered, her tone collected and cool. "What would you like to know?"

"How long was Victor Goodman your patient in Arkham?"

"Two years, from the time he was first admitted to when he was released."

"And what was his demeanor during that time? Was he violent?"

Joan shook her head. "No. Actually, he was one of our more well-behaved patients among the Rogues."

"And yet, he was kept in isolation, wasn't he?"

Joan hesitated before answering. "For the first year of his incarceration, yes. It was felt by Dr. Arkham that it was necessary to keep him isolated from Edward Nigma as much as possible."

Ward leaned forward slightly. "Because Goodman was a threat to Nigma?"

"No, it was the other way around. There was some concern that Nigma would goad Goodman into attacking him, or otherwise would compromise Goodman's treatment."

"I see," Ward said. Then he asked, "And Goodman responded to treatment?"

"Yes, he did. After a few months of regular sessions and a daily regiment of medication to treat his mental break, he was lucid and calm. He was, as I said, a model patient."

"Which is why you recommended that he be released," Ward said. "Did you think that two years was a sufficient sentence for two murders, an attempted murder, kidnapping, and maiming?"

And now it began. Joan at least, responded much more calmly to Ward's provocation than Bullock or Montoya had. "With all due respect Warden Ward, but what I thought about Goodman's sentence wasn't relevant."

"Not relevant?" Greene repeated. "Really?"

"Yes," Joan continued in her conversational tone. "Goodman's sentence was at the discretion of Gotham's Criminal Justice system. His attorney, the district attorney, and a judge all agreed that he was not competent to stand trial and sent him to Arkham to serve out his sentence. As a psychiatrist employed by Arkham at the time, my job was to treat Goodman to the best of my ability, not debate how fair his sentence was. It is imperative that a doctor, any doctor, but especially a doctor employed by Arkham, maintain their objectivity during treatment."

Greene sniffed, then looked back down at her notes. Penelope felt a small smile come to her face. It wasn't going to be that easy to discredit Joan.

"Going back to Goodman's release," Ward continued. "Based on his, as you put it, 'model behavior' in Arkham, you felt it was appropriate that Goodman be released?"

"At the time, yes. Goodman had satisfied the conditions that Arkham Asylum had for parole at the time. He was to keep to his medication regimen and regularly keep up his therapy, but otherwise, he felt that he'd gone as far as he could in Arkham."

"So he was released and then proceeded to murder five more people. Do you have any regrets, Dr. Leland?" Greene asked snidely. Penelope was coming to greatly despise that woman.

"There were eight years between the time of his release and his relapse, Ms. Greene," Joan said in a voice of cold steel. "At the time, we had no way of knowing-"

"No way of knowing?" Greene interrupted. "The man was a mass murderer! How couldn't you at least suspect that he might kill again?"

There was a pause before Joan answered. "Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Ms. Greene. Goodman had fulfilled his treatment requirements. We couldn't justify keeping him in Arkham permanently. We simply didn't have the resources for that and that wasn't the purpose of Arkham Asylum."

Greene frowned. "The purpose of Arkham Asylum isn't to keep dangerous criminals like Goodman off the streets?"

"No. The purpose of Arkham Asylum, at least at the point in time, was to treat the mentally ill. It was never intended to be a prison. Clearly, there's a fundamental disagreement about how Arkham should be run, and this isn't the time or place to get into that."

"No, it's not," Ward said gruffly before Greene could interject again. "Now, Dr. Leland, if you stand by Goodman's treatment in Arkham Asylum, how then, do you explain his most recent rampage?"

From her spot in the gallery, Penelope could just barely detect Joan's shoulders sag. "In my opinion? At some point during the eight years between his release and his latest crimes, Goodman stopped his treatment. His parole officer should have been keeping a closer eye on him, but-"

"We all know how that turned out. And he's since lost his position. Did you not keep in contact with Goodman either?"

"No," Joan admitted. "My professional obligations first at Arkham and then with my private practice prevented me from keeping in contact with him. That, I do regret." She shook her head slightly. "I believe that in addition to Goodman stopping his treatment, his terminal cancer diagnosis combined with his resentment over Edward Nigma's successful reform pushed him to relapse. If either one of those instances hadn't happened, I don't think we would be here today discussing this."

For the first time since the commission began, Bolton leaned forward and spoke into his microphone. "Interesting. So, you think Nigma being reformed caused this?"

Penelope dug her nails into her palm. "I didn't say that," Joan said. "I said that Goodman's resentment over Nigma's reform was a contributing factor to his relapse, as well as his terminal cancer diagnosis. Goodman ultimately is the person responsible for the choices he made."

"But you said that he might not have made those choices if Nigma was still the Riddler," Bolton said, still with a smirk on his face. "So really, isn't Nigma doing more harm than good trying to play Good Guy?"

There was a pause before Joan spoke again. "I'm sorry, but are we here to discuss Victor Goodman's actions, or Edward Nigma's? I was told the former."

"Nigma's not on trial here," Ward clarified, shooting Bolton an annoyed look. Penelope took note of that. There was friction between two of the commission members most closely connected to Sharp, and by extension, Strange. She could exploit that. "Let's move on, shall we?"

Bolton shrugged. "Just one more thing, Doc. You treated Goodman at Arkham and thought he was cured-"

"No, not cured. He'd completed treatment at Arkham. He still needed therapy and medication-"

"You thought he was well enough to be released," Bolton interrupted, the smirk dropping from his face. He rose from his chair and pointed a meaty finger at Joan. "You thought he wouldn't kill again and you were wrong. You treated Nigma after he woke up too, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did. What does that have to do with-"

"You said that he wasn't a threat anymore?"

"He wasn't-he's not-"

"That's what you said about Goodman! And you were wrong then! Why should we believe you're right about Nigma? How long until he starts up his games again?"

"That's enough!" Ward shouted. "Bolton, this line of questioning is over!"

Bolton glared at Ward and for a moment, Penelope thought he might strike the other man. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Wayne with his eyes narrowed, his posture coiled like he was getting ready to move. Finally, Bolton smirked and sat back down. "I'm just saying Warden," he said in an oily voice. "You can't be too careful with these maniacs. You can't coddle them, or treat them like actual people."

"Those 'maniacs' as you refer to them are people, Bolton," Joan seethed. It was the angriest Penelope had ever heard her. "They have rights too. They can't simply be locked away without any chance of rehabilitation."

"Oh no?" Bolton asked. "We let Goodman back out into the world and look what happened. Once a Rogue, always a Rogue. You can't cure them. You can only contain them."

"All you care about, all you've ever cared about, is beating Batman and being the smartest person in Gotham and making sure the whole world knows it. And if that's the case, then it's not a matter of if you'll relapse. It's a matter of when."

Penelope's blood ran cold as she recalled the words she'd said to Edward in her office last year. If Bolton believed that, Sharp and Strange must too. And they had the power to enforce that opinion. She almost didn't hear Joan's response. "And just how well has that attitude toward the patients been working out, Bolton? If we completely abandon the idea of actually rehabilitating the patients at Arkham, then why do we still have Arkham?"

Ward got out of his chair, his face red. "That is quite enough!" he shouted. The room, at a low buzz with the excitement of Joan and Bolton's exchange, went silent. Ward then cleared his throat. "We'll take a half hour break. Dr. Leland, you're excused." Ward then walked off the stage, glaring at Bolton as he passed. Greene and Roberts swiftly followed him, finally Bolton. Joan sat still for a moment, then got out of her chair and made her way back towards the bench she and Penelope had shared the previous day. Penelope waved her over.

"Are you alright?" she asked as soon as she saw Joan's face. The older woman looked ashen.

"I'm fine," she said. She shook her head. "Jesus. I always knew Bolton was a hard case, but the way he spoke about the patients like they're animals-"

"I know. Ward seemed disgusted too," Penelope added. "Or at least, irritated that Bolton went down that road."

"If they're Strange's creatures, they aren't all following the same playbook," Joan added. She looked to Penelope's left with a look of confusion. "Where's Bruce?"

Penelope looked behind her and saw that Wayne's spot was empty.

As soon as Ward had called for a break, Bruce took the opportunity to slip outside and head towards the private holding room behind the City Council's main chamber. He'd been by earlier in the morning, before the sun had risen, to install a bug in the room. He picked a secluded spot by the only door to the room and pulled out his radio sequencer. To anyone passing by, it would look as if he was fooling around on his cellular phone. Time to see if he could pick up anything interesting. At first, he heard only faint noises. He frowned. Then, he heard Ward's voice. "Give us the room."

Bruce ducked around the corner just in time for Greene and Roberts to avoid spotting him as they exited the room and walked down the hall. As soon as they were out of his line of vision, Bruce stepped back out and continued to listen in.

"What were you thinking!?" He heard Ward shout. It had to be Bolton. No one else was likely in that room.

Bruce's suspicion was confirmed when he heard Bolton smugly answer. "Mayor Sharp wanted to make sure that his feelings about the Riddle Boy were made perfectly clear. Just in case he's here."

"Then he's just as big an idiot as you are!" Ward shouted back. "What if Nigma was here and he starts nosing around to retaliate? We can't risk losing everything before it even begins because Quincy wants to pick a public fight with a former Rogue!"

"Nigma's a wimp. He's less than nothing. If he makes trouble, I'll take care of him."

Bruce's eyes narrowed. So Edward was being targeted by Mayor Sharp. Ward's words rang clear on the audio link. "Nigma's more useful to us alive as a weapon we can use against Gordon and Batman. Stick to the plan and for God's sake, don't say anything else!"

Bruce's eyes widened a bit. Gordon he'd guessed was being targeted, but he was too? Why? Him, Jim, Edward, Dr. Leland...what was Strange working on that he thought they were a potential threat to? He sighed. Whatever it was, it was nothing good. It looked like he'd need to start his own digging into Hugo Strange. He just hoped for his own sake, Edward was far away from City Hall.

6:00 PM

In the short time since he'd made her acquaintance, Edward had discovered that Ellen was many things. Outgoing, artistic, friendly, confident, stubborn, bratty, obnoxious and completely lacking in proper respect for authority figures. One thing she wasn't though, was shy. And yet, as she stood in Edward's living room, looking at her feet and not at the two women giving her the once over, that was exactly what she was.

"Nina, Deirdre," Edward announced with a great theatrical flourish. "May I present, my daughter, Ellen Diane Dixon. Ellen, this is Deirdre Vance and Nina Damfino, formerly known as Query and Echo and my two oldest friends." Ellen continued to stare at her feet. Edward cleared his throat. "Now now, Ellen, don't be rude. Say Hello."

Ellen looked up then and her face was even redder than her hair. "Hi," she squeaked. Edward almost thought it was adorable. "I'm Ellen," she said, giving the two women still sitting on the couch a small wave. "Nice to meet you."

Nina was the first to get off the sofa and come closer, almost inspecting Ellen. Deirdre followed closely behind. Once they'd finished. Deirdre shot Edward a look. "Really, Boss? You needed a DNA test to tell you that that's your kid?"

"Oh really, Deirdre! Did you have to go there?" Edward protested.

Nina in the meantime started cooing over Ellen. "Oh my God, Eddie! She's like a mini-you! She's adorable!" Edward thought he heard Ellen let out another little squeak. Nina gently took her by the hand and led her back to the couch. "Come on. Tell Auntie Nina all about yourself!"

"'Kay," Ellen said. She looked like Christmas and her Birthday had come at once as she was sat down between Nina and Deirdre, leaving Edward to sit in his old armchair. "What do you want to know?"

"How old are you?" Nina asked. "What grade are you in?"

"I told you that already-" Edward started, only to be hushed by Deirdre. Edward huffed a bit.

"Fifteen," Ellen said. "I'm a sophomore at Chesterfield High. I'll be sixteen in July."

Deirdre grinned. "That's a fun age. Just wait kiddo, we'll throw you the mother of all Sweet Sixteen parties."

"Which I'll be paying for no doubt," Edward groused.

"You missed her first fifteen birthdays, Eddie. You owe her," Nina said dismissively. Edward looked down at his feet a bit, suitably chastened. To be fair, he already had a few ideas for what he wanted to do to make it up to Ellen. He just wasn't sure he wanted to know what the girls had in mind.

"What do you like to do for fun?" Deirdre asked Ellen.

Ellen let out her (and his) trademark grin. "I'm an artist! I brought my sketchbook with me if you wanna see."

The girls looked eagerly as Ellen pulled her sketchbook out of her backpack. They leaned over her shoulders and looked at her sketches. Deirdre let out a low whistle. "Not bad," she said.

"Not bad?" Nina said. "They're beautiful!" Nina looked up at Edward. "Eddie, you weren't kidding! She's a natural!"

Ellen looked up at Edward then. "You think I'm a natural? Really?"

Edward shrugged. "I wouldn't have said it if I didn't believe it. I never lie, I merely-"

"-coat the truth in an enigma, wrap it in a riddle, and stuff the whole thing into a Chinese puzzle box." The three women on the couch finished, then laughed.

"I knew I'd regret this," Edward said, shaking his head, failing to hide his own smile. "Now it's three against one!"

"Five," Ellen said. "Don't forget Selina and Doc Young!"

Edward raised his hand dramatically. "I'm done for!"

Nina snickered again. "Just wait until we show Ellen our old photos."

Edward felt a small chill go down his spine. "Nina, Deirdre, you wouldn't dare."

Deirdre grinned. "We would." She reached onto the coffee table and pulled up a scrapbook. She opened a page and pointed at something on it. "What do you think of this, Ellen?"

Ellen looked over, then gave her father an almost sad look. "White spandex and green rhinestones? Really, Pops?"

"Girls," Edward whined. "Why must you subject me to this? What have I ever done to you?"

"You made us dress up like ducks," Deirdre said darkly.

Ellen let out a laugh. "Ducks? Really?"

"Is it OK if we tell her some stories, Eddie?" Nina asked.

Edward considered this for a moment, then waved his hand a bit. "A few. The more age appropriate ones. And please, try to keep my fashion sense out of it as much as possible."

Nina nodded and began to tell Ellen a story of a long-ago exploit that Edward couldn't remember. Ellen's eyes and smiled were wide as she heard it, and Edward had to smile as well. He knew Nina and Deirdre would take to Ellen as soon as they met her. Judging from the fond looks on their faces as they spoke to her, they probably already were making plans to steal her away. Judging from the look on Ellen's face, she probably wouldn't mind. He chuckled a bit. He needed an evening like this. It helped keep his mind off of the commission, and off of the session he'd have with Dr. Leland tomorrow. He shook his head. He wouldn't worry about that tonight. Tonight, he'd enjoy his time with his girls.