4:30 pm

It had been a standard day at Wayne Enterprises. So standard, that Bruce had decided to leave early. He wanted to head back to Wayne Manor and check-in with Tim and Barbara before preparing for that night's patrol. As soon as he stepped into the waiting limousine, his cell phone rang.

"Something last minute from Mr. Fox, sir?" Alfred asked from the driver's seat.

Bruce pulled his phone from his pocket, looked at the number and frowned. "No," he answered. "It's Stephanie." He answered the call. "What is it?"

"Bruce, I just got a call from Ellie, Nigma's daughter. She said that some guys from Arkham came in a van and took him!"

"What!?" Bruce asked, clenching the phone in his hand. "Where is the girl now?"

"She's at Nigma's. She said she was going to call Selina to take her home. Bruce, I don't think she's making this up. She sounded terrified."

"I believe you," he said. Thinking about it, it made a terrible kind of sense. Edward had been through another intense ordeal, and now that Dr. Young was no longer working with him, he was without a vital source of emotional support. According to what Selina had told him, he wasn't handling the situation well, which made him vulnerable to an attack from Strange. "Call Oracle. Tell her to alert Commissioner Gordon and Dr. Joan Leland, and then to hack into the communication feeds at Arkham Asylum."

"Ok. What are you going to do?"

"I'm heading to Arkham now. I'll check in when I get more information. Batman out." Bruce hung up the phone and looked towards Alfred. "Head North. We're going to Arkham."

"So I gathered," Alfred quipped, turning the limousine right, towards the downtown freeway interchange. "May I inquire as to what's going on?"

"Hugo Strange has executed City Ordinance 352," Bruce explained. "He's ordered Edward Nigma to be taken to Arkham Asylum."

"Good Lord," Alfred murmured. "Is he attempting to have him re-committed?"

"I think it's worse than that," Bruce responded. Edward's reform was like a tightrope. One false move and he'd fall into the abyss. One false move, or one sharp shove. "I think Strange is attempting to trigger a relapse."

"I see," Alfred said in a grave tone. "We'd best hurry. Will you be needing any of your equipment, Master Bruce?"

"No," Bruce said. "If Edward's close to the edge, Batman will only make the situation worse. Bruce Wayne will have to be enough."

"Very well. What about Dr. Young? Should we inform her?"

Bruce considered it, then shook his head. As much as Edward needed support, if Dr. Young arrived at Arkham to attempt to help him, that could play right into Strange's hands. Edward would want her to be safe, and the further away she was from Arkham, the safer she'd be. "Gordon or Dr. Leland will let her know. Hopefully, I'll be able to get Edward out of Arkham by then."

"Hopefully, sir." Now that they were on the freeway heading North, Alfred stepped on the gas. They were twenty minutes away from the Arkham Island exit. Given the convoluted new security checkpoints, it could take upwards of ninety minutes for Bruce to make it into the Asylum. Plenty of time for Strange to sink his teeth into Edward's fragile psyche. Whatever Strange says to you Edward, Bruce thought. No matter how much you hate me, think about Dr. Young. Think about your daughter. Don't let him win.

Little did Bruce know, Penelope was already well aware of the situation.

Fifteen Minutes Earlier

That Monday was the first day that Penelope had spent working with her day-to-day patients since she'd gone into hiding with Edward. It had been less than two weeks ago, yet after everything that had happened between them, it seemed like months had passed. She was at her desk, looking over her notes from the day, writing out prescription refills, keeping her mind focused solely on her work. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the light red and white carnations Edward had sent her. The flowers, though still vibrant in color, had finally begun to droop. She should get rid of them. She'd come close to throwing them out several times that day, but every time she'd reached for them, she thought of the man who'd sent them, the man she cared about, the man she-and she'd left them alone.

Penelope dropped her pen mid-scribble and brought her hand to her forehead. She couldn't keep doing this to herself. She needed to make a clean break if she was ever going to get past this. Wasn't that what she recommended to her patients? But how could she? Even on the most base, self-serving level, Edward was far too valuable an investigative partner to just cut loose. She cringed even thinking like that. Besides, if all Edward was to her at this point was an investigative partner, would she be in this position? No. She'd crossed the line with him at some point, long before the incident with Bane. It had probably been the incidents with Goodman, with Jones, where he'd proven that not only was he capable of truly caring for other people but just how deep his capacity for caring was. Admittingly, it was a low standard, but it had been enough for her to relax her guard around him, to lower her walls. She should never have done it. She should have maintained stronger boundaries, but she hadn't, and now here she was, wanting something she couldn't have and not knowing what to do about it. She sighed. What on Earth was she going to do?

A knock at her office door almost made her jump out of her chair. She looked at her clock. It was well after four. She had no more appointments scheduled for the day, and she had no plans to see anyone else. She looked at the flowers on her desk, and her heart leaped up. Could it be...? Another knock, and she was on her feet. "Yes!" she called out. "Come in!" She smoothed down her grey blouse. She'd told him that she would reach out when she was ready, but there wasn't anyone else she wanted to see more than him. The door opened to reveal her caller and at the sight of him, Penelope's blood ran cold. "You!" She said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Hugo Strange stood in her doorway, considering her with his cold, dark eyes. "Dr. Young," he said, nodding towards her slightly. He didn't wait for her to speak before he fully entered her office, shutting the door behind him. "I presume I am not interrupting anything?"

Penelope's heart hammered in her chest and she found it difficult to speak. She swallowed and fixed the man with her best glare. "What are you doing here?"

If Strange was offended by her demeanor towards him, he didn't show it. His face was blank as he moved further into the room. "You have been through quite an experience recently," he spoke in that deep voice. "The Mayor was very concerned about your welfare."

Penelope stayed behind her desk, keeping it as a barrier between her and the Warden of Arkham Asylum. What was he doing here? Was this a show of intimidation, or was he after something? She decided to proceed as if it was the former. If it was the latter, he'd tip his hand sooner or later. She folded her arms across her chest. "I appreciate Mayor Sharp's concern," she said in as level a tone as she could manage. "But as you can see, I'm quite alright." She narrowed her eyes. "How inconvenient for you."

Strange dared to chuckle. "My dear girl," he said in a voice that dripped with condescension. "Despite whatever feelings you have towards me, and how...misguided I believe your actions to be, I want you to know that I have never held any personal animosity towards you."

"No?" Penelope asked. "Forgive me if I find that hard to believe." More than anything, she wanted to confront him about Bane, about Bolton, but she stayed her tongue.

Strange chuckled again, then directed his gaze towards where she had her diplomas hung up on the left wall. "On the contrary, I find that there is much to admire about you. You have two Master's degrees, do you not? Psychology and Biochemistry? An impressive achievement. You were also if I recall correctly, the youngest director of research in Arkham's history. That is no small feat." He turned his gaze towards her. "When I first met you, after your little...mishap let's say, with the TITAN, I wondered what would become of you. A lesser person would have broken, would have faded into obscurity, but look at where you are today. You have risen again, like a phoenix from the ashes." Penelope thought she saw a flash of irritation in his eyes as they bored into her, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared. Instead, Strange shook his head. "You truly are quite intriguing. It is a pity then, that despite all of your accomplishments, you seem determined to follow in the footsteps of Harleen Quinzel."

Penelope took a sharp breath. "I am nothing like Harleen Quinzel!"

Strange smiled. "True, there are few outward similarities. On a second glance, however..." he trailed off as his eyes moved to her desk. Penelope realized with horror that he was looking at the bouquet. "Carnations, aren't they? How charming." Strange took a step closer and reached his hand out to the flower petals. "I wonder, who sent them to you?"

Penelope reacted in an instant. "Don't touch that!" She snapped. Strange pulled his hand back and looked directly into her eyes. He looked triumphant as if he'd caught her in a lie, and a chill ran down her spine. Penelope lowered her arms and clenched her fists at her sides. "What do you want, Strange?"

Strange shook his head. "I merely want to understand you, Dr. Young. I want to understand how a woman of your background, of your experiences, would come to oppose what the Mayor is trying to accomplish."

"What the Mayor is trying to accomplish, or what you're trying to accomplish?"

Stange smiled. "I serve at the pleasure of the Mayor, Dr. Our goals are the same. To bring crime down and make Gotham City safe again."

"By demonizing the mentally ill?" Penelope asked. "By denying the most vulnerable people their humanity and dignity? Who exactly, are you keeping safe? You're a psychiatrist, Strange. You took an oath to do no harm, just like I did. We were meant to treat people, not lock them away forever!"

"This from the woman who experimented on Bane?" Strange asked, raising an eyebrow. "Interesting. I do not recall you exhibiting this level of compassion at any time during your tenure at Arkham. Was it born out of the guilt of what you did with the Joker?" Penelope clenched her fists again but did not rise to the taunt. "Or maybe," Strange continued. "It was another man who inspired these feelings in you. That is a riddle, isn't it, Dr. Young?" Penelope felt faint. He knew. The bastard knew about her and Edward. She kept silent. Anything she said, even a denial would be twisted against her, against Edward. "Do you think I don't remember that it was you who kept me from him last year? Do you think that I haven't noticed, how entwined the two of you have become? How when one is in danger, the other one is not far behind?" He was still in front of her desk, but if Strange wanted to, he could reach over and grab her wrist. Penelope fought to stay still and calm. She'd faced down Bane only a week before. She would not give Strange the pleasure of seeing her afraid. "I can understand the attraction," he continued, speaking confidentially. "He is clever, if not as intelligent as he would have the world believe. He is gregarious. He might even be handsome, from a certain point of view." He looked into her eyes, expecting her to respond.

"Is there a point to this, Strange?" Penelope asked, forcing herself to sound bored.

Strange chuckled again, and she knew that he'd seen through her. "He's told the world that he is a new man, that he will never commit a crime again. Has he told that to you as well? Even after what you experienced with the Joker, you would believe a word he says?"

"What I believe isn't relevant," Penelope forced herself to say. "I've seen for myself that he's not the man he was when he was the Riddler."

"Isn't he?" Strange asked. "Perhaps he's not leaving riddles anymore, but we both know the coma did not wash everything away. He is still compulsive, still an obsessive. He has merely redirected those impulses elsewhere." He then gave her a look that on another man, may look like pity but on him, looked insincere. "And he is still a narcissist. No matter what he may say or do, he is fundamentally incapable of caring about anyone other than himself. You may amuse him, for a time. He will tire of you eventually though and discard you, just as he has with everyone else in his life."

So, Strange was trying to drive a wedge between them by making her doubt Edward. A year ago, it may have worked. Now though? After what she'd seen? Knowing about Ellen, Professor Crane, Selina, Vance, Damfino, and even herself? Penelope could see this for the pathetic attempt it was. "Is that what you believe Strange?" she asked. Then she smirked. "Or is that what you want to believe? No, you need to believe it. After all, if Edward Nigma can genuinely reform, without the draconian measures you enforce at Arkham, then perhaps the other Rogues can be rehabilitated." Strange's face was expressionless, but his dark eyes were thunderous. Penelope pressed on. "And if the other Rogues can be rehabilitated, then so can the other patients. And if they can be, then what need is there for you?"

When Strange said nothing, Penelope allowed herself to feel victorious. That feeling was dashed to pieces when Strange smiled again. "You have faith in Mr. Nigma, do you?" he asked. "Tell me: when was the last time you spoke with him?"

Penelope froze. Strange knew that she'd called off their partnership. She took a breath. "My relationship with Edward Nigma is of no concern to you, Strange. And I would have opposed you regardless of whatever relationship I have with him."

"Perhaps you would have, perhaps not," Strange said. He folded his hands in front of his chest and examined her. Penelope wanted to recoil but stayed still. "I have a question for you, Dr. If you had to choose between the continued success of your so-called commission and the safety of Edward Nigma, what would you choose?"

Penelope brought her hands down hard on top of her desk and all but snarled at the man. "If you're threatening him-"

Stange simply smiled beatifically at her. "Merely a hypothetical Dr. I can see from your reaction however, what your answer would be. You truly do desire to reform Arkham Asylum, perhaps Gotham City while you're at it. That much is obvious." He leaned in closer to her so that his face was only inches from hers. "But you desire him more. It frightens you, doesn't it? A woman as committed to your work as you are, to be so enthralled with a man who three years ago, was little better than the Joker. That's why you haven't been in contact with him, isn't it? No doubt you've convinced yourself that you're protecting him by keeping him your distance. Really though, you are trying to protect yourself from the knowledge that you would throw everything away on the chance that he may love you."

Penelope could feel her face flush with rage. Finally, she withdrew her hands from her desk and stood straight up. "He is not the Joker," she said in a voice as cold as ice. "And I am not Harley Quinn, no matter how much you want me to be. I will never stop opposing you. If there's nothing else, you can see yourself out. I have work to do."

Strange nodded. "Of course." He looked ready to go to the door before he looked back. "There was one more thing I required."

Penelope was back on edge. "And what would that be?"

Strange looked to her desk. "I recall that you kept a journal of your sessions with the more notorious inmates at Arkham. I would like to have it. It may be valuable for an upcoming session."

Penelope narrowed her eyes. "Anything I wrote in that journal about my patients is included in the files I left at the Asylum, Why do you need-" A new wave of fear swept through Penelope. "Wait. Who are you having a session with?"

Strange's smile told her all she needed to know. "Your journal, if you please, Dr. Young. I'm sure it will make for interesting reading."

Penelope felt revulsion roiling her stomach. "You can't," she said. "You have no right-"

"Do not presume to tell me what I can or cannot do, Dr. Young. I am well within my rights under City Ordinance 352 to bring any former inmate to Arkham for a session-"

"He's been reformed for over two years!" Penelope shouted, no longer caring what she was giving away. "He's not included in that ordinance and you know it! This is an overreach!"

"He is a former Rogue," Strange said coldly. "No matter how long his 'reformation' may last, Edward Nigma will always be a former Rogue. It is in the public's best interest that he be kept in check." Penelope glared at him, her breath coming in ragged. She reached for her cell phone, only for Strange to chuckle. "It is no use to try to warn him, Dr. As we speak, he is en route to Arkham Asylum. Did you think you could keep him from me forever?" He smirked at her, cold and cruel. "Besides, if he is as changed a man as you believe him to be, then what harm can one session do?"

Penelope had never hated anyone more than Hugo Strange than she did at that moment. "You unimaginable bastard," she said through clenched teeth.

"These dramatics are getting tedious, Dr. Your journal. Now."

Penelope reached towards her right desk drawer, never taking her eyes off of Strange. She opened the drawer and pulled out the old journal she'd kept from Arkham, the one that Edward had 'borrowed' over a year ago. Strange could go ahead and take it. Her private journal, the one with her notes and thoughts on everything that had happened in the last year, was safe on her apartment coffee table. "Take it," she said, all but throwing it at the man. "Take it and get out!"

Strange caught the journal, then gave her a nod. "Thank you for your cooperation, Dr. Young." He turned to walk out of her office, but not before he threw one last barb. "It is a pity you haven't spoken with Mr. Nigma recently. This could be the beginning of the end for him."

"No," Penelope said, soft and deadly. "It's the beginning of the end for you, Professor Strange." Strange narrowed his eyes at her, then continued out of her office, shutting the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, Penelope collapsed into her chair, reached for her cell phone and dialed a number. It was too late to warn him, but if she could just talk to Edward-

"This is Edward Nigma, Private Investigator. I'm either with a client or otherwise preoccupied. Please leave your name and number and I'll get back to you."

As soon as the voicemail message beeped, Penelope began to speak. "Edward," she said, in a shaky tone of voice. "Hugo Strange was at my office. He told me what's happening. I'm sorry, I never meant to leave you open like this," she paused, taking a breath to call down. "Whatever he says to you, whatever he does to make you feel vulnerable, don't believe him. We both know what he's trying to do, but I know you're stronger than he thinks you are." Penelope wet her lower lip. "Edward. I want you to know that just because I walked away from our partnership, that doesn't mean I stopped caring about you. I want you to know that I-" the voicemail recording cut off with a loud beep. Penelope lowered the phone from her ear but didn't let go. "I love you," she said to no one. She shut her eyes. "I love you, Edward." Then she opened them. Strange had been here to break her and now he was off to break Edward. She wouldn't let him. She got out of her chair, dashed to her office door and began to dial Joan's number. Strange would not win.

4:45 pm

"You sure you want to be let out here, kid?"

Ellen rolled her eyes. That was the fourth time this stupid cab driver had asked her that question. "You want your hundred bucks or not? Shut the fuck up and let me out." The cab driver muttered something under his breath, then unlocked the cab's back door. Ellen shoved the crumpled bills at him before she got out of the cab. She took a look around. She was at the last major intersection in North Gotham before the road veered off left. She looked ahead and gulped. To her left was a sign that read 'CAUTION. Arkham Island. 2 Miles ahead. Authorized vehicles and approved visitors only. Be prepared to stop and show identification.' She'd gotten a text from Batgirl about twenty minutes earlier that said that they were sending a 'friend' to help her Dad. Did she need to be here? Was she really going to do this? Break onto Arkham Island? Behind her, Ellen could hear the cab drive off. Well, only one way to go now. She took a deep breath and began to walk down the narrow road. "I'm coming Pops," she whispered, clutching her backpack straps so tight her fingers hurt. "I'm coming."