Alrighty then, sorry for the delay, but I really didn't want to rush like I accidentely did on the last two chapters... :) Enjoy!

(Oh, it's Melanie's perspective again... )

I head back inside the penthouse pondering Batman's words. I wander into the bathroom, and decide that a shower would probably be number one on my list of priorities. I start the water, and find a towel in a drawer under the sink. I am about to get undressed when I decide that it is probably a good idea to lock the bedroom door. I know I'm protected here, but I don't want anyone walking in while I'm in the shower.

I try to remember the last time I actually took a shower, and am repulsed to realize it was before the Joker kidnapped me.

I lock the door, and head back to the bathroom. Before getting in, I look at myself in the mirror. My reflection is almost unrecognizable. My hair is matted, and bushy. My once bright brown eyes now have dark circles under them from both lack of sleep and stress.

I reach up to feel the line of stiches in my neck. Sharp twinges of pain answer every time my fingertip brushes a stitch. The soon to be scar starts below my right ear and continues in a jagged line until it's under the center of my chin.

I'm pretty sure that someone once told me that if you put vitamin E on a scar, it fades faster. Mr. Wayne surely has some somewhere wouldn't he? Maybe I could ask to use some. He would understand my reasoning wouldn't he?

I see small patches of white paint in my hair, and feel nauseated. Yet another reason I need this shower. I want to get rid of the past once and for all.

I shower quickly, and wash my hair twice. I feel a little obsessive compulsive thinking that I might have missed a speck of paint or dirt, and want it all completely before I go and meet Mr. Wayne.

He probably already has stereotyped me as some junkie girl from the Narrows that got into some trouble, and I need to show him that it's not true.

I get out of the shower, and sigh. I guess I just have to put on my smelly dirty clothes again, but at least my hair is clean. I get dressed and try my best to brush my hair with my fingers. After a few minutes of trying however, I just give up and look in the mirror again.

Well, I'm certainly not perfect looking, but it will have to do. My hair is about half as matted as when I started, and my eyes look a little lighter without all of the grease and dirt around them. I must admit that I do feel better, and am glad I could clean up a little bit.

I walk out of the bathroom, and back to the bedroom door. I hesitate before turning the handle, and have to remind myself that I am not being held captive anymore and that I can open a door if I want too.

I turn the knob and open the door, reminding myself again that it's not wrong. I poke my head out and look in both directions. The room I am in is almost in the middle of a long hallway, and there are several other doors on both sides. I'm not sure exactly where to go, but figure looking around is a lot better than just standing here like an idiot, so I decide to go to the right.

As I walk, I notice that there are no pictures on the walls whatsoever. It doesn't detract from the overall impression, but I've never been in someone's home that doesn't have pictures somewhere on its walls.

I get to the end of the hallway, and turn a corner. I am now in a large living area, and when I say large, I mean huge. The room itself is at least two stories high, and small hanging lights are hung everywhere. Two walls are actually windows from floor to ceiling, and the view of Gotham is spectacular. There are two ivory couches against one wall, and a mini bar set up against the other.

I figure that this must be the room that Mr. Wayne has his parties in. I've seen pictures at work of his front page worthy parties, and it seems to match. I can't guarantee it though, because it's usually full of people, not just me.

"Impressed?" A slightly British voice asks behind me.

I jump, and turn around quickly. An older man in a tuxedo is standing on the edge of the room. I have no idea who he is, and he definitely isn't Bruce Wayne.

I just stand there, silent. I'm unsure of what to say to this stranger, because I don't know how he got in here, or why he is talking to me.

"My sincere apologies madam. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Alfred Pennyworth. I am Mr. Wayne's butler." He bows slightly, and walks toward me.

"I'm... Melanie Ryder." I say, a little awkward.

"Yes. Well it is a pleasure to meet you Miss Ryder. If you need anything at all while you are here, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Umm, okay. Thank you." I say.

"Are you hungry?"

"A little." I say. In all honesty, I'm starving, but I'm still nervous and that's what comes out.

"Well what sounds good?"

"A PB and J?" It's the first thing that pops into my head, and it makes Alfred laugh.

"Ahh, yes. I believe that we do in fact have everything in order to make a... PB and J. I'll be back in a minute."

He then turns, and walks smoothly out of the room, leaving me alone again. I turn back to the room and am in shock. I've never had anyone outside of a restaurant make me food like that. Well, besides my parents when I was a kid, but that's different.

I walk across the room slowly, and close my eyes. I try to imagine being in heels, with a flowing dress around me. A live band is playing soft music, and I sway to the rhythm. I'm surrounded my friends and even people that don't know me. They have all come to celebrate. Cameras flash as they laugh and toast to each other's success. The scene makes me smile as I spin.

I am lost in this moment of perfection when I see a man walking toward me through the crowd. He has dark eyes and hair, and is very handsome. He is smirking about something, and he is looking at me, so I look down to see if I've spilled something on my dress.

But I'm not wearing a dress. I'm wearing torn jeans and a blue shirt. I look back up and my surroundings melt around me, leaving me alone with none other than Mr. Bruce Wayne standing in front of me. I just stare at him for a moment with my mouth slightly open when I realize that my hands are still in the air. I drop them quickly and look at the ground, blushing deeply.

"Sorry." I mumble.

I'm answered my a light laugh. "Sorry?" He asks. "What are you sorry about? Believe me, you are not the first, nor the last person to dream in here. I've even done it."

"What? Why?"

"Oh you know. The same reason you did. To try and escape reality for just a few moments, and just imagine perfection."

"But isn't that your life all the time? Your Bruce Wayne right?"

"Please. Call me Bruce." He smiles and extends his hand, and I shake his hand slowly. "And, yes, this may be my life, but hey. I'm only human."

"That's true." I say, looking around.

"So do you remember why you've been brought here?"

"Something along the lines of protecting me right? Because my apartment isn't safe, and I'm some sort of a target?"

"Yes. And my friend at the hospital told me that this is one of the last places that The Joker would look. So please, while your here, make yourself at home."

I shudder convulsively as Bruce's words echo the Joker's.

"Think of how happy it would make me if you could call my place home!"

Bruce sees me shudder, and his eyes cloud with concern.

"Are you alright?" He asks, "Did I say something wrong?"

"Yes. It's just that when-"

"Here you are madam." Alfred says walking into the room. "A peanut butter and jelly sandwich."

"Ah," Bruce says, "I see you have met Alfred."

"Yeah. A few minutes ago." I say quietly, trying to get the Joker's voice out of my head.

"Enjoy." Alfred says as he walks over to me, and hands me the silver plate.

"Thank you Alfred." I say, taking the plate.

I'm answered with a slight bow, and then he swiftly leaves the room.

"Melanie," Bruce says, "You were saying something about..."

He is interrupted by his cell phone buzzing in his pocket. He pulls it out, and after reading something, looks at me.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go now. It appears I had forgotten about a meeting with someone. Please make yourself... comfortable, and I will be back in a half hour."

He then turns, and is out of the room before I have the chance to say anything.

With no Alfred, and no Bruce Wayne, I decide to walk around again. I'm not really sure what else to do, and it seems like a good enough option to me. I find a door on the other side of the room and open it quietly.

Poking my head in, I can see that it is an extravagant kitchen with too many appliances to name. It's fantastic to look at, and is one of those sights that you would only think existed somewhere on TV on a cooking show.

I sit down on a tall chair at a granite-topped island, and eat my sandwich. I've never really enjoyed being by myself places, especially in other people's homes, but strangely, I feel comfortable here.

I finish in a few minutes, and walk over to the sink. I rinse off my plate, and don't see a dishwasher, so I just set the plate on the counter. I feel awkward leaving it there, so I leave quickly. I walk past the grand room, and down a new hallway. My curiosity gets the best of me as I peek into every room I pass.

I find several bathrooms, three guest rooms, several closets and the ornate door at the end of the hall is locked. A silver keypad is next to the door, and I'm guessing that it is Mr. Wayne's bedroom.

I get to the end of the hall, and the last door is open slightly. I am about to poke my head in, when I hear voices coming from the other side. Still curious, I lean closer and listen.

"Did anything go wrong?" I hear Mr. Wayne ask.

"Well," A man's voice answers, "He cut seven officer's tongues out at the station."

Bruce curses softly and continues, "Was he looking for..."

"Yes. Apparently he told them they were being rude to their guest and because they weren't giving her location, he said he needed to teach them manners."

I shiver lightly. I really hope they aren't talking about me. But how many psycho's are looking for women hidden by GPD today? I can only think of one.

I edge closer to the door to try to see who Mr. Wayne is talking to. At first, I only see Bruce, but after a moment, the other man shifts and enters my view. He looks like he is in his mid-fifties, with dark hair and square glasses. A salt-and-pepper mustache also covers part of his mouth. I recognize him from the newspaper. I think his name is Lieutenant Gordon. I don't remember his first name.

All I remember about him is that obviously he works at the police station, but I think that I saw a story about him faking his death to catch the Joker about a year ago.

"Well he's going to learn some himself one of these days." Bruce says darkly.

"Well I sure hope so." Gordon responds.

"Did he follow you here?"

"I can't be positive, but I'm pretty sure he did."

"Good. Well it seems Batman was smart with his plan. He should be able to grab Joker very easily while he is distracted by the chance to get her back."

"Oh yes. I'm sure his plan will work. I just hope she isn't hurt more in the process."

I can't believe it! I'm another pawn! When will I ever just be allowed to live the rest of my life? Why can't I seem to get out of this trap?

I turn around angrily, and retrace my steps back to the room I woke up in. Why can't I just make my own decisions anymore? I throw myself on the bed and grab a pillow. I bury my face in it and try to figure something out.

First, I make a list of what I know.

-The Joker is hunting me.

-I was 'rescued' by Batman.

-Batman has set a trap and I'm the bait.

-The Joker hurt officers and is somewhere outside the building looking for me.

Now that I have a solid list, I need a plan. If I wait here, I will be caught for sure. Gordon thinks I'm going to get hurt in the process. Sure Batman is probably somewhere close, but it's no guarantee that he won't be busy with a robbery or a mugging when Joker makes his move. No, it's too dangerous to stay. I need to leave.

The only question left is to figure out how.

What do you think she's gonna do? Is it even going to work? :)