Surprise! This is what I like to call the Woden's Day Special, where I give you a short chapter midweek while also updating the following Saturday. Now, I don't think I will do this too often, but I felt like this chapter was a good length to start this. I hope you guys had a Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, and/or Kwanzaa.

Thank you to 9aza and forgetmenotflowers for reviewing the last chapter.

And, off to the races!

High tops of Gotham's tallest skyscrapers were the perfect places for meditation. Josephine's mind wandered over the shining silver stories over which the moon was now reflecting, to the pinpricks in the stormy blanket above. Damp shingles wet her pants through as she sat in the shadowed parts of buildings where the water collected from the afternoon shower.

So, she thought, Joker's found himself another favorite? Not just that, a boy to boot. Hm, how to deal with that.

It was not a hidden fact that their relationship had waned over the past few months; her mother's absence had only strengthened the tension, reinforcing the brackets of the boundaries between the two. Since Harley Quinn was in a coma, she was unaware of the world around her, or of the quarrel going on between the two she loved best.

She played with the hem of her jacket, zipping the zipping up and down, up and down, until the sound reverberated in her memory. She stopped. There was a rustling. Whether bird or Bird, she wasn't taking the chances. She bounded over the flattop and rushed until her limbs were bursting with adrenaline when she leapt off the building and rolled headfirst onto the next, making sure to somersault to prevent injuries. She did not stop. She kept running until she leapt onto the fire escape of the next building, a shabby little thing, not belonging to the righteous business area of Gotham. Her fingers pinched in grief over the rusted railings while she climbed to the top. Her pale fingers were a russet red when she ranged to the top and peered over the edge of the city.

There was a time when she would sit atop this tower, or one of the like and watch over the city for her father's gang, such as only a week ago with the men she just slau-…took care of.

She was the lookout, the watchman. But, the kinky thing about it all was that she was not Josephine Quinzel when she was doing it. No, when she was the watchman, Josephine Quinzel was far away, stealing or beating the shit out of some hooligans who tried to best the Joker. No, she was known as Billy McKean, a rather thin, girlish henchman of the Joker meant to snoop out the traitors and keep a general eye on the horde of men under her father's payroll.

She remembered months ago before the tension grew and her other was in a coma. Before the accident, and before she started to care about Jonathan Crane…

"To me, men, to me!" Shouted Big 'n Burly.

"What're ya doing? You're not in the army anymore, ya flippin' idiot. No one really cares about that crap anymore. Besides, wouldn't you want to be away from all that standards and rules talk? This is Gotham, damn it! You don't get by on rules anymore! You're stealing and killing for Christ's sake!"

Big 'n Burly was none too happy with the outcome of his troop he had to lead to secure the premises for the Joker to operate on. The bank was a tough one but they had managed to keep low until they got the signal from the Clown Princess when they were to infiltrate. For now, it was only a matter of time.

"Keep it up, men, and you'll end up sliced to ribbons by Josephine," said Josephine aka Billy. She spoke in a Scottish rogue, quite out of place for Gotham, but she found that henchmen came in all sorts of nationalities.

"She's right. We need to keep our voices low. Do we need to attract all of Gotham?"

The rest grumbled to themselves and squandered time by doing pushups and showing off their "manly" muscles. Josephine couldn't help but roll her eyes under her bowler cap. These bunch of losers were really the bottom of the barrel. But keeping them in line was part of the job; the other part was to filter out the gossip and the lying cheats.

"So, Burly, is it?"

Big 'n Burly nodded his head, showing off a bad history of dentistry.

"What have you heard on the streets, I mean, you know, the bars and the others. I haven't been meself in the past, oh I don't know, couple of weeks. You know the pay for someone; say I don't know, The Penguin?"

"Penguin? I don't know nothing about the Emperor Penguin. People says he's rich and pays good. Well, I heard other. He ain't so grand a person and pays terrible." She shook his head to confirm it.

"I heard that too," shot up gangly. "He ain't worth it. And he's stabbed his people with his umbrella right in front of him to show off. Down dead, they says. Who wants that?"

"Oh and the Joker don't do that?" asked Wiley. "He kill ya as soon as ya screw up his plans. You know that. It's a deathtrap workin' for 'im."

This one intrigued Josephine. "So why work for 'im if he's so bad a boss?"

"Pays okay. Besides, I get to get a good look at Harley. You know, she's probably bored all cooped up in that hideout of Joker's. Might be a good idea to show her a good time."

Josephine shuttered. She hated that part of the job. There were a good many scoundrels amongst the lots that always made comments on her mother's…looks. It was sickening. The really bad part was that she had to play along, or else they might suspect something. Strange thing that was what they'd catch you on, unless you wanted to fake being gay. Then, they'd just stone you or kill you. Very low tolerance for that in the henching business, unfortunately.

"Yeah, she might be worth it," was all she added to it. Always the minimum for that sort of talk. "But enough about pretty women, I'd better go scope out again. See if there's any miscreants running around."

"Ya know Billy; you never really do anything else."

"I know, but this is all I can do, what with my delicate nature and all," she sneered. "Besides, someone had to make sure you losers won't be blindsided, am I right?"

"You little-"

"You said yourself, I 'ent very good at fighting. Not strong like you all. Alls I got to do to earn my pay. Besides, I won't be working for the Joker much longer."

Some were actually agape. Others nodded comprehensively. "Billy, going out?"

"Yeah, I figure I might cash my check and get the hell out. The clown's dangerous business. Any of you boys comin' too?"

There was a little silence. Some didn't know what they were going to do after the job, others knew but weren't planning on saying it aloud. She decided to encourage them further.

"You know mates, there's a serious quiet rule here." She held a finger to her lips and smiled. "I don't think anyone here would snitch, right boys? I know I won't. I'll be hittin' Metropolis by the time Joker's thrown in Arkham again."

"Well of course I'm leavin'." Said Wiley. "Even Harley's sweet ass couldn't keep me from stickin' around her boyfriend and listening to him cackle. I'm with Billy on this one."

A couple of others concurred.

Billy stared at Wiley. He would be the first in the darkness.

West. Gotham's west was a pinnacle of even taller, majestic sights, but the one Josephine craved was that of her favorite thinking place. She could just make out the steeple from beyond the museum. She ran for it and sought the opportunity.

St. Andrews Church was one Josephine found less than appropriate for her wanderings, but all the same, a safe asylum for herself. It was very rare, if impossible to see another henchman, villain, or Gotham ghoul in a religious place at all, let alone a Catholic cathedral during confession hours.

She bounded onto the roof from the steeple and slid down the slippery shingles to where she could hang upside down and curl herself under the gutter, placing a hand against a lose piece of stained Jesus Christ face glass to push aside and move onto the upper balcony inside.

An overwhelming scent of musk overcame the Clown Princess as she stood on the decades old church balcony. Behind her, varnished wooden pews sat, disturbed only by the bibles laid on their sticky sides atop the deteriorating puce cloth seats. She moved quietly among the emptiness and down the stairs, holding her breath as she did so every time she visited, knowing that a sound might give her away.

It was about eight at night as the ancient grandfather clock read downstairs. Josephine was on her guard the whole period. She did not remove her knife, however, harsh the consequences may be. She had some humility. A church was not the place for bloodshed, however, ironic the phrase probably sounded. She was relieved with the position of the confessional. It was, unfortunately, downstairs, behind all the pews, but the location was in the corner and for a great time, a great comfort for her in her hour of need. There were, to her happiness, no others in line to speak to the priest on duty.

Without another word, she spread the curtain aside. Feet first, as always, she stepped inside.

The chair was harsh against her back, and she couldn't help but ponder what those did that had no support in their back. Those with spinal injuries, osteoporosis, or arthritis probably struggled for the minutes or hours they stayed in the little compartment confessing their sins. Josephine did not make it a habit whatsoever to confess herself. She wasn't even sure she believed in religion. It always seemed very farfetched, but she couldn't disagree that speaking a stranger about your life sometimes had its advantages.

Other habits die hard. She never spoke the beginning words you are supposed to say before confession. There used to be a little "ahem," but not anymore. The priest knew her in the silence, but he did not know her identity.

"Bless you child," he began in a voice Josephine deemed calm and low, once whose effect on her was increasingly soothing, "what is it you want to discuss today?"

"It rained today."

"Yes, it did," said the Father. He was also used to the unique ways Josephine started a conversation.

"I missed it, I was asleep."

"A shame. I like to watch the rain. Have you watched it, ever?"

"Sometimes. It's dreary on days like this. It was so bright this morning."

"Yes, but sometimes there are things we can't help, such as the weather. We need the rain as much as the sun. It's what makes the world work."

"Hm," Josephine sighed.

"Was there something special you wish to discuss today, my child?"

"I…don't wish to take up too much of your time today, Father."

"You may take up as much as you wish. There are no others outside."

"Not when I came in."

"Then you have no time limit. You may feel free to discuss anything on your chest. This is a sacred confidence."

She hesitated. "Yes, I know. I wish to ask you something, Father. Is there a law declaring that one should always love their daughters, no matter what the circumstances?"

"I should hope that one would, without conditions, or consequences. As in the first commandment, Thou Shalt Honor Thy Mother and Father, I feel the parent should, in turn, love their son, or daughter."

"I think that may not register with all."

"I believe that it is something that should, even without religion. It is nature for a guardian to care for a child."

Josephine exhaled. "Nature. And…the ones who…defy nature?"

The Priest didn't answer immediately. "They are those who do not deserve to take care of such a child who honors and loves them."

Josephine was silent.

"But, know this, if it is a father you seek, you may look to the Lord, for He is good and loves all. I know you don't particularly care to hear that, but it's the truth. It can also be a comfort during the times of doubt."

"Thank you Father," she said, not knowing how to reply. Again, she did not really understand about religion and all its requirements.

"It is fine, child. I only hope that you can find what you seek in the world. Is that all for tonight?"

"I think so, but may I ask for your opinion on something?"

"Anything."

Josephine breathed deeply again and asked the question she feared most. "Is someone who commits terrible crimes past redemption?"

The priest did not answer swiftly, again. They sat for the long interval of three moments before he said, "no, anyone who gives penitence for their crimes are granted the divine amnesty."

"Thank you, Father…That is all for tonight."

"Very well, I'll allow you to leave first."

Josephine stood and exited quickly. Her footfalls sounded as she let herself out of the sacristy. As she did so, the priest stepped out and viewed the back of her head as the door closed behind her.

"Peace be with you, Josephine Quinzel."

A/N: I would just like to state that I am not Catholic. The inspiration for the priest comes from Peter Clifford in the tv series Ballykissangel.