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Chapter 12

"Dad?" My voice trembled as I unlocked the door and shoved it open. I was greeted by the familiar smells of cigar smoke, musky dog, and even the odor of microwavable dinners coming from the kitchen.

Home.

I heard someone come barreling around the corner and caught a glimpse of a furry black and carmel colored head rounding the bend in the hallway. Forgetting all the discipline I was meant to drill into my canine, I dropped to the floor and splayed my arms out wide.

"Baby!"

Brody knocked me flat on my back and a face bath ensued. Laughing, I pushed him off when I heard a cough come from the doorway.

My father was standing by the entrance to the kitchen. Dressed in his normal leather montage, he leaned against the wall. Clad in a leather jacket, he regarded me with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. His tooth necklace dangled from a chain around his neck and his dark hair was slicked back with gel, as it usually was.

"Hey dad," I whispered.

"Kid," he breathed.

I gave him a hg, which he awkwardly returned. He immediately checked my arms and legs for scratches, along with checking my face for bruises.

"You not too hurt," he mumbled.

"No, I was checked out already by the ambulance." I decided not to tell him the real reason why I had close to no bruises on my face.

"You have dinner, kid?" His gaze raked my emaciated form as I studied his face. Worry wrinkles had embedded themselves in the creases of his eyes.

"Dad please," I snorted. "I'll get dinner started."

Instead of microwavable dinners, although there were quite a few of them hiding in the freezer, I miraculously found a couple bags of pasta which I mixed with herbs and a jar of tomato sauce.

My father was surprised as I hungrily tucked in, shoveling forkfuls of pasta down my throat. Dad refused to mention anything having to do with him.

"He's in jail y'know," I said between mouthfuls of food.

He stopped eating. "Ya kid. But for how long?"

I frowned and looked down. "I don't know."

I lay on my bed, I staring up at the dark ceiling. Brody had abandoned his dog bed and was now situated next to me on the mattress. Hours passed and my eyes started to droop closed.

A noise made me jolt awake. I sat straight up in bed, heart hammering in my chest, looking all around the room for a painted white face against the dark.

Nothing was there. It was our shutters banging against the windowpane.

Then why did I get excited instead of afraid? Why were there butterflies instead of knots in my stomach?

"No," I growled into my pillow. "I hate him."

But the hammering in my chest proved otherwise as I wondered just how fast he would break out of jail this time.

Grabbing onto Brody, I buried my face in the ruff of his neck.

"Bordy," I groaned. "I'm so confused!"

The Joker sat on the dirty bench in his cell, hands in his lap. Twiddling his callused thumbs, he leered at all the men in his cell, rolling his eyes at the fat one grabbing onto the bars. The fat man would come in handy, he just had to remember not to strangle him for the constant complaining.

is makeup was smeared and his body hurt all over. He hadn't planned to take the fall for Laurel. It just happened. His body reacted impulsively. The bruises that rightfully belonged to her now speckled his arms and chest under his blue office shirt and patterned green vest. His sleeves were rolled up, showing a few of the dark purple tinted splotches.

Red spots of anger clouded his vision as he wondered why he wanted to keep her safe. She's whiny, outspoken and irritable. Why is she so important? He should've just killed her early on.

He half-listened to the mayor's conversation with Gordon. He was promoting him. The Joker added in his own enthusiastic clap as everyone applauded the new Commissioner Gordon's success. Their eyes met for a split second as the Joker stared him down with a sadistic sneer.

All he had to do was wait. He'd be out soon. And among everyone else, he owed Laurel a special visit.

"Why can't I go?" I complained.

"Dangerous. Go to Sal's and stay with Isabella."

"But dad," I surprised myself with the constant whining. "The Joker took me out on dangerous assignments all the time!"

Dad's face went stone cold. "You not mention his name. Ever."

"So, I can't go?" I brushed off his obvious anger.

"No," he replied with one last look and the slam of our rickety front door.

All he was going to do was meet drug lords. If I could handle outings with the Joker, I could definitely handle that!

Grabbing Brody's collar, I harrumphed my way out of the house, slamming the same door shut. I was not going to Sal's. I missed him and Izzy, but I needed to vent to Bruce.

I didn't bother putting a dress on or anything. I didn't have any money for a cab, and I was most definitely not walking to Bruce's penthouse in a fancy dress.

Albert let me in. Brody trailed behind me as I walked into the kitchen.

"Master Wayne isn't home at the moment. Are you staying, Miss Laurel?"

I smiled. "Alfred. Seriously? Could we please cut out the 'miss' stuff?"

"Laurel," the old butler grinned.

"Much better," I grinned back. "So, where's Bruce?"

"Patrolling the city," Alfred frowned.

"What?" My brows furrowed in confusion. "I thought that he wouldn't have much to do now that the Joker's in jail."

Alfred shook his head. "The station needed him. That criminal is being questioned. Master Wayne is taking part in said questioning."

I tried to keep a straight face as I imagined Bruce slamming the Joker into walls and banging him around to get answers out of him. I hoped my emotions wouldn't betray me as I nonchalantly looked down to gather myself.

Bringing my gaze back up, I gave Alfred a reassuring smile. He timidly smiled back, as if he could see right through my emotional facade.

Avoiding the topic of conversation, Alfred asked, "Would you like to tuck into some grilled cheese with me and watch the telly?"

I smiled at him. "Alfred, with all the things I've had to deal with lately, that sounds perfect."