I'm a broken record over here, but thanks for all the reviews and for everyone reading along. You're awesome!

(x)

Lee arched her neck to look over Madeline's shoulder at the case notes, as they both rested against the black metal railing by Jim and Harvey's desks at the GCPD. She brought Madeline up to speed. "They each recreated the scene of their original trauma."

Madeline hmmed a thoughtful noise and asked, "How is the drug able to do that?"

"I sent over a sample and consulted with a neurologist working at Gotham University. The drug hits the adrenal glands but also the amygdala, where our memories are stored. It makes whoever is under the influence of the drug recreate the scene, we think, in order to give the trauma a different ending."

Madeline crossed her own arms and shivered just slightly. "That's pretty messed up."

"Yeah, you're not kidding," Lee remarked. "They experience everyone around them as an immediate threat while they're at it."

She leaned back in thought. "But they don't experience themselves as helpless."

Lee nodded and added. "They take on the role of their attacker. Though we're not sure entirely why the drug makes them do that."

She shrugged. "PTSD is all about memory, and repeating is a way of remembering."

Harvey rolled his eyes before he looked up overtop of his reading glasses. He picked up his phone as he said, "All right, ladies. We appreciate the debriefing, but I think we've had enough of Trauma 101 for the day."

Lee glanced surreptitiously over at Jim. He didn't say anything and kept his head down, because he was smart. But Lee detected the slightest hint of a smirk rising onto his face.

Madeline faced Harvey and said with more than a touch of attitude to her tone, "I'm sorry. Is our collective knowledge of the forensics of your case interrupting you?"

Harvey held the phone to his ear when he said, "What's that? I-I can't hear you." He pointed to the receiver and turned away. "I'm on a call."

Lee tried to stop herself from smiling, but found she couldn't help herself. She asked the doctor, "Madeline, do you mind sharing with us how that made you feel?"

Madeline stood up straight, as if to say 'I'm so glad you asked Lee.' "Actually, I'm feeling generally reserved, though a lesser person might feel a little hostile."

Harvey muttered something about how she'd know hostile when she saw it.

(x)

Madeline followed Lee's lead, and they moved away from the two detectives. She'd found herself drawn to the M.E. almost immediately, no doubt because they were both in the same line of work. But also because Lee was just one of those women. Whether you were male or female, you couldn't not look at her, couldn't not speculate about her.

Lee looked to her with a smile. "When you work in a building full of alpha males, you find yourself on the losing end of the exclusion game from time to time. I found the best way to deal with it is to play it cool."

Madeline smiled slightly. "I'm sure you've had to navigate that more than once here. But no matter what social setting you're in whether it's a dinner party, fifth grade, or the inner workings of a police station, you've gotta learn to pick your battles, negotiate relationships..." She looked back at Harvey and sighed. "Pretend to like people we don't, pretend not to like people we do."

Lee said, "It's the high school cafeteria all over again. Just with more guns."

She and Madeline walked back towards the M. E. lab. Madeline spoke softly so no one would overhear, "Oh, I hear congratulations are in order."

"Thank you." She touched her stomach self-consciously. "We're both very excited."

Madeline asked, "Got any names in mind?"

"No," she said. "Not yet."

"You've still got plenty of time," she said. "You and Jim make a cute couple. You'll have cute kids."

Lee's smile widened at the compliment, and then she said, "By the way, I know you're seeing Jim for therapy, and I know everything is completely confidential. So I don't want you to worry about me asking questions about anything you talk about."

Madeline said gratefully. "I appreciate it."

"Though …" Lee said. "I was wondering. Do you think it might help if I were to attend one of his sessions sometime?"

She drew in a thoughtful breath before she said, "Well. I'll tell you what. Let Jim know that you're interested in that, and tell him to bring it up at our next session."

Lee gave her a look. "You know, Dr. Scott, I did study psychology in med school."

"Oh," she said sheepishly. "Well, then you see what I just did there."

Lee said, "I know he's mandated to attend. It's a good strategy to at least give him some control over who's there and who's not."

Madeline shrugged and said, "Still, I meant what I said. Ask him. Can't hurt." The moment passed, and she asked, "By the way, has it been confirmed that this Paycheck Pharmacist is only targeting people who have recently been seeking treatment for PTSD?"

Lee answered, "That's what we're seeing."

"And only those being seen at Veteran's Services?"

Lee nodded. "That's the pattern so far. Frankly, I hope the pattern stops there."

"Me too." Madeline mused on that. "Me too." She looked up and said, "Would you mind if I excuse myself for a moment? I just realized that I need to make a phone call."

"Sure," Lee said. "Thanks for the consult."

"Likewise," she said as she began to walk away.

Madeline hurried briskly back up to the conference room where her files, laptop, and paperwork remained. She sorted through the notes in her briefcase, found the number, and dialed.

The crisp British-accented voice of Alfred Pennyworth answered, "Good evening, you've reached Wayne Manor. To whom am I speaking?"

"Hello, Mr. Pennyworth. This is Madeline Scott."

Any brightness left his tone and he said, "I'm sorry, doctor. Master Wayne is deposed at the moment-"

"Please don't hang up." The touch of desperation in her voice no doubt gave Alfred pause and Madeline said, "Look, I'm not even sure that I have the authority to call you with this. But it's come to my attention that the police are working a case where clients who are newly diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder are being targeted."

"And why should that concern Master Bruce?"

"Because I just diagnosed him with PTSD yesterday. All my notes are entered electronically on a secure network. I'm currently not sharing my case notes with anyone inside or outside of Gotham. There's no reason anyone should know except myself and you, his guardian. But I …" I just can't lose another one. "But, I just want to make sure every precaution is taken."

His voice darkened and he went straight to business. "How are they being targeted?"

"There's a drug being sent through the mail. It's a powder attached to checks. It's absorbed through the skin. Please don't have Bruce touch any piece of mail that comes into that house until after they've caught whoever is doing this."

There was a long pause on the line. For a moment, Madeline wondered if the call had been dropped. Then Alfred said, "I can assure you any mail that comes into this home will be thoroughly inspected. If any tampered mail is sent to him, it'll have to get past me first."

She breathed a little easier. She wondered … No, no, if she dug deep down, she knew a huge part of what she'd done had been for her own piece of mind as well as for Bruce's well-being. "I'm just realizing that I should have asked you to keep this matter as private as possible, before I told you."

"Yes," he said. "I imagine this is just the sort of thing the officials would not like to see plastered all over the evening news, especially due to a leak from inside their own system."

So somehow Alfred knew that she worked at the station. That told her a number of things about his level of perception, his reach, and his dedication in protecting Bruce. "Yes, you'd think I would have considered that."

For the first time since she'd spoken to him, he didn't sound like he wanted to rip her counseling license to shreds. "Not to worry, Doctor. I shall be discretion himself."

"Thank you," she said, trying to keep the surprise she felt out of her voice.

"And you." With that, they hung up.

Madeline walked outside of the conference room on the second floor and looked down upon the gritty bustle of the police station. From the far end of the station's main floor, Harvey Bullock jumped up from his chair and grabbed up his leather jacket and hat. Jim Gordon followed after him, keeping pace alongside Harvey.

Just then some movement caught Madeline's eye, and she saw Lee standing just outside of the bullpen, watching Jim and Harvey take off from the station. On the sidelines, Lee pursed her lips and lightly held her right hand against her stomach.

Madeline turned her gaze back to the front door of the station. A frown of concern settled upon her face as the two detectives left her sight altogether. She leaned her forearms against the railing and whispered, "Be careful out there."