Boy, you guys are lucky I'm sick and have nothing better to do than post. Here's the next chapter! Enoy!

Third Person POV

A pair of intent eyes watched a slender, blonde figure as it sloshed through the wet parking lot, her high heels clicking against the blacktop. She hastened to her car and fumbled with the keys. The streetlight illuminated her skittish expression as she glanced about. She could feel his eyes on her.

This was his chance. He strolled towards her, from behind the SUV he had been peering. His feet were soundless as he approached her. Oblivious to his presence, she accidentally dropped her keys. He was pleased to see her hands were shaking slightly. Bending down to retrieve them, she let out a small scream when she saw his legs. She shot up, her keys still abandoned, holding a hand to her heart. He could practically hear it leaping out of her chest. It gave him a shiver of delight. Her surprised expression faded as she recognized who it was. "Oh God, it's just you," she said in relief. "I thought I heard someone…"

The man stuffed his hands in his pockets, slouching with easy grace. "Sorry about that," he apologized, without a trace of guilt. "I couldn't stop thinking about you after last night, Tabitha, so I thought maybe I would catch you before you left work to see if you wanted to get a drink or two with me." He took a step forward; so that he was close enough to see the goose bumps on her skin, hear her ragged breathing. It was all so delicious. Of course, not nearly as delicious as her…

Although her expression was friendly, her green eyes betrayed her. There was a certain uneasiness that flickered through them. "I'm sorry, but I really can't. Being a weathergirl means I have a lot of work to do." She laughed, but he could tell it was forced. "Maybe some other time. I'll tell you what. I'll call you, how does that sound?" But he saw through the lie. She wouldn't call him; once people got past his dangerous good looks, they always saw the eerie air he had about him. He crept her out, like he did everyone else. Except her…

Something sinister flashed through those cold eyes. Quicker than she could blink, he had gripped her arm and shoved her against the door of her car, a knife to her throat. He was pleased to see the fear overcome her features. This, he decided, made her more beautiful than she already was. There was something so attractive about that vulnerability of being afraid. It made him want to take it and rip it apart. "Okay then," he hissed and she started trembling. "I have a different idea. Why don't we find out what you're made of? Literally."

Her blood-curdling screams echoed through the parking lot, accompanied by the sickening sounds of flesh being torn. After a minute or two they both stopped, and the man whistled lazily a tune, a tune that reminded him of her. It had been their song.

Don't worry, pet. We'll be together once more.

Back to Cynthia's POV

"Mum and Dad were always so pleased with Harvey. It's always Harvey this and Harvey that! Do they even realize that he only has to deal with the wackjobs for fifteen minutes in the courtroom? Do they think that they simply disappear after that? No! Then I have to deal with them!" the Doctor groaned, still in a rant. The Doctor, Dr. Rebekah Dent, the same girl who had told me about the police needing to see me, was apparently Harvey Dent's sister. And it seems she has a bit of a bone to pick with him.

I surveyed her distraught appearance with an amused expression. My own parents having passed on when I was sixteen and being an only child, I never had to deal with sibling rivalry. "Then let's make a toast." I lifted my glass and she followed suit, sloshing her beer about a bit. It turns out that she got tipsy after only two drinks, while I had a better tolerance for it and was on my third, hardly feeling its affects. "To the crazies we work with. Maybe someday we'll be driven to join them." She added a 'here, here!' and drank deeply. I put my own down without touching it. I wasn't much in the mood for alcohol.

Rebekah had caught me before I left work and asked if I wanted to grab some food and maybe get a few drinks. She said she knew I had just moved here and maybe I wanted a friend. I had agreed, firstly because I genuinely liked the girl, and second because I needed to loosen up. Daniel had been on my mind constantly, and it was starting to affect my work. My slipups with the Joker were becoming more constant. I needed to do something, stop being so tense. And it was almost working. Rebekah was an excellent distraction, for she did most the talking, which suited me fine.

Of course, all my concerns rushed back not a minute later. I had been absently watching the TV screen perched on the wall at the end of the bar. It was just the news, nothing incredible. The sound wasn't even loud enough for me to hear. The bartender, who had been watching, set down the glass he'd been cleaning and went to turn it up. "Weather should start in just a minute," he explained to me, when I saw that I had been observing. "I'm thinking of going up to the lake this weekend. Hopefully it aint gonna rain." The volume shot up so I could hear. I vaguely tuned in to what they were saying, mostly because the guy that was talking was kind of cute.

"…seem to be missing our weathergirl, so we'll bring you over to Donna Happiwoods for this week's forecast. Donna?" The scene changed to show a tall brunette, who wore a huge fake smile. Behind her was a green screen, though nothing was showing on it.

"Thanks Tom. Tomorrow we might be getting some leftover rain from Thursday, but this weekend should be…what?" She pressed her finger to her earpiece before turning to look at the green screen. "Excuse me folks, but we seem to be experiencing a couple technical difficulties. I'm sure we'll be up and running in just a moment…" A few men walked into the picture and started lifting the green screen. "We'll just take you back over to Tom in the meantime…" She stopped mid-sentence to let out a horrifying shriek. I froze at what I saw.

Behind the green screen was a body, so mangled and torn apart that it hardly looked human. The limbs were in awkward positions, splayed almost carelessly. The only way to distinguish that it was female was the mop of long blond hair, which was matted with blood. The 'face' of the victim was bashed in and so distorted that it was a wonder they recognized her. "It's Rayne!" one of the men who had lifted the green screen shouted. "It's our weathergirl! Someone call the police! And turn those cameras off!"

If someone had tried to do so, I would never know because the studio went dark and the TV echoed the screams of many people. The green screen, which had been dropped, flickered to life. My breath caught in my throat. It was a message, which once again was written with a thick red.

HER BLOOD WASN'T AS WONDERFUL AS YOURS, PET

The fear prickled my skin. My fingers went numb. Oh God, it was starting. Tears threatened to fill my eyes, but I forced them back. He wasn't just going to find me and do well…whatever it was that he planned to do with me. No, he was going to taunt me, drive me until I crack, then he would come to pick up the pieces. He was going to play the game before he got the prize. Oh God no…

"How horrible! I wonder who would do something like that?" Rebekah commented, slurring a bit, from beside me. She nudged me, and I flinched away from her touch, "I guess we'll find out eventually eh? No doubt they'll be sending the nutcase over to us." I wasn't even listening, too consumed in my own thoughts. I knew how his mind worked; I had spent months analyzing it. This was only the beginning. He was going to keep killing until he knew that I was completely broken with anxiety and guilt, and then he would move in for the kill. The TV screen switched to nothing but static. I held my head in my hands. The room was starting to spin.

It didn't help matters when Rebekah reached out a comforting hand and laid it on my shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked, genuine concern in her voice. I stuttered on my words; I wasn't allowed to tell anyone that I was connected to Daniel Dew. Luckily, I was saved from both answering and trying to figure out how to get her hand off me when my cell rang. I quickly stood up, her hand dropping to her side, and plucked my phone from my purse.

The bar had suddenly become very loud, what with what had happened on the TV, so I had to press my finger to my other ear to hear. "Hello?"

I immediately recognized the Commissioner's frantic voice. "Dr. Dawn, where are you? Who are you with?"

I bit my lip. "I'm at the Bronco's Bar on Thirty-third Street with a fellow colleague. Why?"

"Did you see the news?" he asked intently. My stomach lurched at the memory.

"Yes," I choked out. I would never forget the mangled body of Tabitha Rayne. Or those words, which were still echoing in my mind: Her blood wasn't as wonderful as yours pet…

"You need to get to your apartment straightaway!" he commanded, but revised a second later. "No, just stay there. I'll have one of my men pick you and your colleague up. Stay put and don't talk to anyone. My officer will be named Hank Davidson. Do not leave with anyone else." I didn't even have time to reply for he had hung up.

After a second or two of trying to absorb the information, I went back over to where Rebekah was still sitting, waiting expectantly. How was I going to explain this one? "What was that all about?" she asked in puzzlement. "Jeez, are you okay Cynthia? You look like shit."

I swallowed hard and tried to appear relaxed. It was difficult. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just…well, my friend works at the station, and he started flipping out over the whole newscast thing, so he's sending one of his buddies to come pick me up. He said he'd take you home as well. He gets paranoid sometimes, you understand; being an officer in a city like Gotham will do that to you."

After a few seconds of suspicion, she seemed to accept that. "Okay, that's fine. I suppose it's for the best. I can't afford to have a hangover at work tomorrow anyways, and I have a feeling I've already crossed my limits." She laughed good-naturedly. I truly liked the woman, even if she did do the comforting touch too much. Somehow, I would have to break her of that habit.

It wasn't ten minutes later when an officer entered the bar and introduced himself as Officer Hank Davidson. He led us out to his police cruiser. The whole way across the parking lot, I felt as if someone was watching me. I attempted to shake off the feeling; surely I was just hyped up. Nevertheless, I lay wide awake all that night; unable to fight off the irrepressible dread that something bad was going to happen.