Physics and Economics being done, I say my week is pretty nice so far. Thank you to everyone who is taking time out of their busy lives to reach this far in my story. Hats off to you, my lovelies. Time is nice when you are allowed to lose track of it once in a while. That's why I like writing. Time is relative to only your mind. I've spent many an hour working on this one and had not known the difference. That's how much I love you guys.

Anyway, thanks to all who read and review. My stats make me smile after a long day. Go hug someone. Make someone's day. Live long and prosper.

P.S. – Hooray for more Josephine/Jonathan interaction again. I know it's been TWO whole chapters. Can you forgive me?

When they rushed out, Josephine's anger allowed the doors she so hated to bite her palm in the same place as it had earlier that evening. She made a squeak and clenched the hand together trying to hold back any further noise. She hated to show weakness, especially after the ordeals having been through that night but at that moment, she honestly wanted to cry and cradle the hand to her. It hurt so badly.

Chaplin walked beside her, happily wagging his tail and nuzzling her sore hand, which she allowed him to lick. It felt so nice to have her good old pet back. He was the pup of the original hyenas Bud and Lou –well not so much Lou, as Lucy, when they found out he/she was a girl when she gave birth. Chaplin was christened Josephine's, and hers he stayed.

They walked another few blocks. The Narrows was not far. There were no buses out and about tonight.

Firetongue was ahead of her, solemn as always. He was several feet ahead for no practical reason other than to avoid her. He had no idea where Scarecrow's apartment was. He had no right to lead the way. She said nothing about this, but hurried to catch up with him. Trying to calm the waters was a good opportunity to stop all this bad feeling.

"'tongue, the apartment is down another couple of blocks. There's a turn up there."

He kept walking to the beat of his own drum. Was that it? Was he to be that same way throughout her journey? If it was about the damn kiss, he could go to hell and back. She didn't give a damn about Jack, and spat on him not once - but twice, whilst in his presence. What else could he ask for in symbols of her revulsion?

"You know, I did say to have an iota of faith in me whilst accompanying me on my trip. It would be nice to extend that pleasure to me now. And know that I don't care one scrap about that son of a bitch." She spat on the ground to prove her point. "Is that for some ungodly reason, the point you wanted me to make, because I'm tired of this silent treatment. It's childish."

A smile cracked over Firetongue's lips, but vanished as it appeared. I know, but you must agree with me about the henchmen. I have my doubts.

"You're wrong about the henchmen. I know for a fact they've been elsewhere."

He whipped around on her.

How long have you been in contact with him?

"Long enough to know him."

Her eyes pierced his. Green and amber in an angry uproar. He sucked in and blew steam, like a smoker exhaling his nightly drag.

"Jack isn't going to win," she said in an attempt to convert the subject. It was a hateful one, but she preferred that to arguing about the professor. She looked to the clouds. Her eyes moved back and forth with uncertainty. "He isn't the heir. It's too soon for that. Maybe very soon he might. Joker is impulsive but not a fool. Jack is too green for such a position." Her gaze dropped. "He can't beat me in experience. I'm the sole proprietor of Joker's lineage. There is nothing that can change that."

He still did not respond, choosing his always silent nature than to expose himself. She didn't expect much response from it. The monologue was more for her own peace of mind.

"Firetongue," he did not turn around. She breathed a troubling sigh, then set her jaw light, eyes piercing ahead as they walked. "Firetongue," she stated again, this time with more force. His walking slowed some, just enough for him to show he was listening. "Thank you…for what you did."

His grip on the strap tightened, turning his knuckles white. He did not face her, perhaps rightly so. She did not feel slighted when the smallest glimpse of an answer did not wash over. Chaplin bounded down the streets, eager for an evening stretch. She walked ahead, guided by only her intuition and faith that the professor was waiting for her.

The apartment was already crowded with supplies and men when the two broke in. At first, two sweating jerks in their wife beaters stopped them and almost butchered them, but all Josephine had to do was introduce herself and they were on their merry way downstairs.

The steps were creaking as usual. The air was wrought in the odor of men who probably hadn't bathed or thought of a shower in ages. Most of whom were probably unmarried or without a caring lover to tell them otherwise. The smell thinned out when their feet padded across the concrete floor.

The lab was still in its place. Only this time, the professor was storing containers of nitrogen into shipping boxes that were not stamped Falcone all over. Hooray for brilliance. Yet again, the professor knew what he was doing and things were beginning to look up. Well, at least look like they were going according to plan.

However, he was not downstairs as she'd hoped. She asked one man, "where's your boss? I need to talk to him."

The man stared at her, blinking wildly when the notion clicked. "He's…he's up there, in his room."

"Thanks." She said none too excitedly. The man watched them go, no doubt awestruck to have met none other than the Clown Princess of Crime. He set about whispering to his buddies.

The two went upstairs again and to the office, which was closed.

She knocked.

"Get busy and make sure everything's in order you fools. We can't let the bat catch onto us." Came the muffled answer from beyond the wood.

"Bat's a bit tied up at the moment, but never fear, Josephine is here."

The door swung open, revealing her boss in his scarecrow garb as he usually did when around his men, minus the mask. He squinted at her, and eyes lowered to the plants.

"Ah," he took a pot.

"Oh he ahs the plant but not me." She smirked at him, but he didn't respond. She sighed, waiting for his approval of the choice.

Crane took no notice and spun the plant around for inspection. The pot had a large crack in it, but the roots seemed to be still intact. It would suffice. Besides, his assistant did go to considerable trouble to steal from the plant woman. The loyalty was indeed a reward this time, but he was happy to see her back safe and sound, if not a little testy.

"Thank you, Josephine," he glanced back up at her to meet her gaze. "I could not have done this without you."

She shrugged. Her glance followed the men traveling in and out of the apartment. "I see you've held up your end of the bargain."

He was hesitant. "Yes, I have. But," he eyed Firetongue, whose eyes were staring straight into his soul, "who is this?"

"Firetongue. You know him. He's one of my men."

"I thought they were in Blackgate."

"Now they're not."

"There were two."

"Well he's the only one along for the ride. Anymore questions?" Her eyes bore into his, brows furrowed. What had he done? He nodded his head, frowning.

A henchman walked up, "Hey Boss. We done here?"

"Yes, we will leave soon. Josephine," he glanced at her. She did not look at him. He shook his head. "Go and hustle the rest of the help up they all need to be ready to go shortly."

"Yes, master," she set off, 'tongue following closely at her heels, leaving the good doctor feeling even more confused. He didn't like it. But perhaps it was the air she needed. Females needed that sort of thing for health, yes?

No matter, he thought, she will be fine soon.

Dr. Crane replaced the masked on his head and set out of the apartment, watching Josephine as she barked orders at the unwilling henchmen.

"If you don't hurry up and get the stash in the vans, I'm going to knife you. Now that ain't gonna be a grand thing is it?" She held the object in question out, flipping it in her fingers as a harmless butter knife, spinning it like a baton.

"You don't give the orders around here. The Boss does. You aren't even his bitch." One brave idiot announced quirking an eyebrow at one of his friends, lips turned up in a smug leer. No sooner had he uttered the question than Josephine had launched herself at the man and slit his throat. It was a shallow cut, but one that hurt all the same. As soon as she'd done so, the blood began to trickle down his spongy neck and he gurgled for breath. It was to be a very slow death for the man who couldn't keep his adjectives in line. She leaned in close, so that even in his darkest hour, he and the rest could hear her sermon.

"Now listen here Bucko," she hissed, "I'm not one for speeches but I sure as Hell have one for you. I'm not one for labels, got it?" She grabbed the thinning hair and yanked it, causing more raucous from the bloodthirsty men. "I'm not anyone's bitch. Got it? Not a whore, or a slut or even a lover, eh? Not a girl, not a woman, not even a criminal. I'm my own person. And you? You're nothing to me. You ain't even worth the dirt under these fingernails. See that? Not even a little speck of dust. Look around, look at your mates; they're not even jumping in to save you. Pathetic, eh? Really bad for you. I'd feel sorry but like I said, I'm not one for labels. You're just nobody. As for me, well if there were a label I'd call myself, it would be your murderer," she leaned in so close her breath heated his ear canal, "because that ain't a label. That's a fact." She lifted her knife, but was stopped when a hand held her back.

She froze. Her voice kept its murderous tone. "Let me go."

"No, I think he's had his share. Besides, this fate may be better than the one you were about to give him." Crane gestured to the man wiggling pathetically on the floor. Josephine remained where she was, arm still poised with Crane's hand on her forearm, not quite holding her back, but resting, like a comfort. "No more, Josephine. He's done for." He turned to the crowd. "Enough gawking. You've all seen a dead man before. Now get these vans fired up. We're leaving."

The men looked at the wiggler and back at their boss and decided to shake a leg. They jumped for their seats in the hot vans, buckling up. Soon, the rumble of engines firing up sounded clear around the small dilapidated buildings. No one came out. Anyone who heard such a chorus of vehicles knew they were up to no good and no one came out to see them off. No one that is, except for one.

One especially uninvited guest showed up.

She whipped around some of the men, two actually of the thirty under the Scarecrow's employment. They were soon knocked out and sleeping peacefully like grimy little overgrown babies.

Josephine loaded herself into the same van as Crane, seating herself in the back with him, whilst Firetongue took shotgun in another van opposite a nameless henchman.

"Drive," commanded Crane, still masked.

"Yeah Boss," the engine fired up and they were on their way.

No sooner had they started than there was a road block. One of their vans on its side, men under the cloak of night fighting a mysterious perpetrator.

"What the hell? Go around them!"

"There ain't any room boss! I can't get around em.' There's a hold up!"

"Drive you idiot. Let us see what this little disturbance is."

"But boss, I can't –"

Bang. Drop

The man slunk into his seat, eyes rolled back, a gorged hole bleeding profusely in his head. Scarecrow did not shutter at the event or sight. Dead men were eaten like feasts by rats in the street. It was a common sight in the Narrows. One may never forget it, but be desensitized whenever they saw a dead body. He shrugged it out of the driver's seat and into the road, opening and shutting the door to the night air.

"Thank you Josephine."

"You're welcome," she replied quickly as the professor took his place as driver.

"Now, let's see what all the commotion's about, shall we?"

The van tore down the road, where the roadblock was. The clouds hung heavily in the streets, blocking views of henchmen being thrown around like bean bags, showing only their silhouettes in the darkness. The fog was not thinning anytime soon and the Scarecrow drove slowly. The monster of a van could barrel down something in his path, but God forbid it be one of his nitrogen tanks. Not good.

Josephine fingered her weapon as the incoherent shouts grew stronger around them. It was chaos. She didn't want to roll down her window in case one henchman was to try to attack for some reason. She couldn't see the danger. She was not in control. And that was not the violence she liked.

Then! She heard that distinct sound. Crack!

"Catwoman," she announced, "she's here, patrolling."

The professor nodded behind his mask. "We will take a detour."

It turned out, the roadblock was nothing but a scuffle of angry henchmen and Catwoman exacting her justice and taking them out one by one with her whip. They didn't stand a chance.

It may have worked out if not for the other six vans being parked in the middle of the street and their occupants either rushing –or dragged – out of their compartment to match the feline fighter. Josephine had to roll her eyes. The evening clouds had lifted; henchmen were all over the place looking up, down and every which ways. The sight was abhorred. They were clueless. Henchmen only came in one flavor: dumb. Oh God, she really wished she could just take them all out right now. Cretins.

"Stop the van; we might have to deal with this personally." She said.

Scarecrow parked the van in three seconds and leapt out; grabbing a small container of some fear gas he'd saved for these types of occasions. It never hurt to be prepared.

He went into the middle of the fray, where some of the men seemed to have calmed down a bit. There was no sign of the cat. He and Josephine scanned for her, but still didn't see. He ordered the men back to their vans –well, the men who were still conscience. Most lay sprawled on the concrete, still as death. Again, Josephine could not contain her eye rolling. Henchmen were a lowly breed.

Only about ten of the original thirty were still able to drive. There were enough to drive the trucks but Scarecrow decided to place all of the cargo into one van and take on three vans. That way, if Catwoman had any notion to steal any, she wouldn't know which to pick. A highway robbery wasn't really her style. Might mess up her pretty little nails. All piled into the three remaining vans. Four each were in the spare vans, two in the same as the cargo alone with Scarecrow and Josephine. No way was the Master of Fear about to let his supplies out of his sight. No way was the Clown Princess of Crime about to lose it for him.

She briefly wondered where Firetongue was. He was not among the dumb. She placed it out of mind. He would find her again.

They left the lot rotting in their graves when the police –or the rats –came to get their men. The vans headed down an unmarked alley. Wheels rocked over week's old garbage behind a putrid smelling bar, dumpsters overflowing with the alcohol and peanut shells. Josephine's mouth watered with the scent of vomit and decay. The Narrows was a blackened pit of deadness.

Josephine's fingers kept curled around the knife, waiting any moment when the cat might strike. Yes, she was a friend of her mother's. Yes, she somewhat spoke to her on occasion. Yes, she was someone friendly to her –on occasion. But war was war. And she as not about to lose this battle for Professor Crane. She needed to prove herself a bit more. He'd hardly ever seen her in action. If now was the opportunity, now was the opportunity.

The van shuddered more as it began its decent out of the Narrows. For once, Josephine may have felt like she caught a break. But she didn't deny the sense of disappointment. She had wanted to leave Catwoman tied up for the authorities to find. That would have been fun. It was a once in a lifetime event, too. Maybe her father might have even seen it. Jack definitely couldn't do something like that. No! She was thinking about that disgusting pig again. She tried to put him out. Vacation. That's all I want, vacation. I'll deal with you as soon as I can, you half –witted, bulging son of a bitch –

"–Boss we got company!"

No sooner had she thought her last profanity about the clown boy than a figure over the rooftops came into view, then vanished. Her insides warmed with adrenaline. Fingers itched around the blade, sharp against her palm. Her stress toll had increased with each hour tonight. The threads protecting her sanity were slipping with each passing moment. She was ready, oh she was ready to kick some ass tonight, and she didn't care whose it was.

"Boss, what you want me to do to the kitty? Run 'er over? Shoot her?"

"Whatever seems necessary. I don't have time for games."

A small ball formed in her stomach. Was he not going to let her have a chance? No, he was going to watch her accomplish something helpful tonight whether he liked it or not. For once, he would see her on the job. She'd be the hero of the hour. Her night has been one fricking problem after the next. Now, it was her turn to fight back. Let's do this.

"I'm going after her if she gets within three yards of this van." She declared. Her eyes bore into the window beside her. Focusing directly on the rooftop where the shadow was spotted. Professor Crane shifted beside her.

"It may not be best to handle it with hand to hand combat at the moment –"

"No, I'm going after her. Come along if you want professor, but I'm tired of sitting by the sidelines tonight. The kitty crossed my line." Josephine exited the van.

Dr. Crane tried to grab hold of her arm but the act was futile. She was too determined. He had to make a choice. He wasn't going to just leave her there, open to the Catwoman. Yes, he knew she was well armed in combat, hearing about the several instances of her own raids and slaughters. But…he couldn't help but worry. It wasn't the sad bastards she was killing that he had pity for it was her; needless to say, the Master of Fear had come to like the girl. Care? Of course. He couldn't prevent it. Two years and this is what naturally happened. He hated it, but it happened. He only hoped that she wouldn't do something stupid. There was a way to make sure of it.

"Park. Get out. We're following her. If she's going to do something reckless, we might as well want to witness it."

Josephine scuttled over the rooftop like she had the other several times that evening. Her anger only built more and more, coupled with her genetic tendencies to flip out when uncontrolled, it spelled out bad news for kitty cat. She grinned wildly whilst she chased her. The wolf was coming for its prey. Here Kitty Kitty!

Her energy high was at its pinnacle. Delirium must be the word to describe it. Intense, sensational…insane. Assignments, assignments, nothing else would matter once she got the cat.

Catwoman wasn't there anymore. She was nothing but a shadow in the night. Josephine should have expected that. She did. It didn't stop her frustration as she bounded over yet another roof, pealing her knife from its sheath, being quiet and lowering onto the ground. Stealth. Her training flooded back: Hunt, knives are your friend, a small cut, it is finished. Soon, she would be here. She knew. Catwoman might retrace her steps to get what she wanted. She didn't give up easily.

Her thoughts were rewarded.

One minute…two minutes…four minutes…eight….and she showed up. Leaning over the ledge gracefully, the cat burglar slipped a slender leg over the niche. Cold air breathed over Josephine as she watched the femme fatale sauntered over the roof and make towards the other side of the roof.

"Evening, Catwoman," said Josephine, easily comforted with her presence, slipping out of her hiding spot.

Selina Kyle stiffened, only for a moment, and then turned on her heel to face Josephine.

"Ah, Josie, so nice to see you out tonight. I have to admit, I didn't think you would be…patrolling this particular area. Speaking of which, why are you?"

Josephine tutted at her, crossing a drunken leg over the over, leaning slightly in her tipsy persona. She smiled widely. "Oh Selina. Tonight was not a good night to work against the Scarecrow."

Catwoman could not hide her surprise. "Why should you care what I have to do with Jonathan Crane?"

"We have a little arrangement. What else do you really need to know? All I know is that you're messing with him and it bothers me. You might want to rethink your strategy. You're not stealing anything from him tonight." Her face hardened into a deep frown, her eyes cold.

"Josephine what are you doing getting involved with that man? I thought your daddy would be angry to know about that."

Josephine remained silent.

"Ah, I see!" Catwoman smirked. "A little job on the side. Mmm, might be a clever idea. Joker doesn't like to keep the same people around all the time, including family. But I would be careful with who you throw your lot in. You might be better off alone." She turned serious. "And you know what he did to you mother."

Yes, like Ivy, Catwoman lived under the illusion that Harley Quinn was under comatose by someone else's hand. A deeper and deeper pit was forming right around her.

"Maybe and maybe not. Maybe my father did it. You never know how things really go on unless you really know, Selina. Like Batman's identity. You'd know a lot about that wouldn't you?" She eyed her mischievously.

Selina only shrugged and started to circle Josephine. "Sometimes things don't need to be mentioned again, do they?"

"That all depends on how this is going to go down. Do you really have to pursue Dr. Crane? What need do you have of his stock?"

"Batman can't do everything on his own. He needs my help all the time. What's a girl to do when her man calls uncle?"

Josephine eyed her. "Nothing but lies tonight, Selina? It's your style, but I would have thought you would tell me the truth, given our history, that is."

Catwoman cocked her head at her and smiled. "Hmm, you do know me. Well, if you want to know the truth: Money. The black market sells anything. But you," she paused for perfect eye contact, "might know about that. All those guns and weapons just disappearing like that? Suspicious, Josephine. Might not be a good idea to do all that for the Joker."

"Since when are you such a critic? I may never have touched the weaponry in the Upperstate division. Ever think to ask me? Might have been another pest looking for a break into fame."

"No one's crazy enough for that besides the Joker. And I think he has enough prominence in Gotham as it is. He has ambition, though. Maybe enough to spill over to you."

"Don't turn this on me. Besides, we're getting off topic. You're going after Professor Crane and now you're going to pay." She revealed her knife.

"Bickering, threatening, taking too long to do anything…my God, you're becoming you're father."

Josephine launched herself at Catwoman. Selina cartwheeled behind her, driving an elbow between her shoulder blades. She cried out, stumbling forward.

"I don't want to do this, Josie."

"Stop calling me that. I'm not a child anymore."

She went again and was dodged, this time; Selina swung a leg at 360, but was caught and thrown a few feet away. She landed in a squatting position. "You're going to regret this."

"No, I don't think I will."

Catwoman defended herself again and again against the eighteen-year-old attacks, not harming her but not allowing harm to come to herself. It was a much more trying activity than she assumed. Joker and Harley had trained her well. She was fit and ready.

When Josephine tried a final hit, Selina captured her in a headlock, not being aggressive but holding her firm. "Stop it. Stop, stay still for a moment, Josephine. I'm going to ask you a question, and you need to answer it."

"I'm not telling you anything. Why should I?"

"Because I'm close to your mother and you may owe me to look out for your best interests. Yes, I'm not the influence that Ivy is, but listen to me. Why do you work for the Scarecrow? What do you have to gain?"

"I have to gain nothing. I have my reasons for everything I do." Josephine triedto tear herself out of grasp, but Selina held tight.

"Why did you go tearing after me like you did? Yes, I watched you while you waited. You aren't as clever as you think sometimes. You have much to learn. You have more to learn about men. They like to control you, warp your emotions. You know they can. You've seen it."

Josephine stopped struggling. She hung there in Catwoman's arms. Hands sleeping on the smooth black latex of her suit. Dr. Crane wasn't her father. Not by a long shot.

"Who says he does that to me? He doesn't. Maybe that's why I like him."

"Josephine, I care because you are strong and brilliant in many ways. I can only suppose that you make choices because you think through them. Answer me a question."

"No," Josephine wanted away. She didn't want to be near that woman anymore, she was making her feel uncomfortable. She was right; she wasn't like Ivy at all.

"If you answer me this question, I may not go after you. Now, listen," she pleaded as Josephine continued to struggle. "Answer this one question: Do you love him?"

Josephine took time. The question was so simple but so complicated at the same time. She cared so much for Dr. Crane that if anything ever happened to him, she felt like she would be alone. For the past two years, she worked for him for a reason. He saved her from a terrible fate at Arkham. He must care. He wasn't like her father. He did care. She cared. She might even…

"I don't know. Don't…don't ask me that. I don't want to talk to you anymore." She relaxed in her arms. "Just….leave me alone."

Catwoman was not giving up. She brushed some strand out of her face, trying to be as maternal as possible, which was, in fact, a difficult feat for her. "If you love him, go with him. I'll leave. I'll leave him alone, for good. If he's worth your affection, then I'll go."

Josephine slunk in her arms, wondering whether to cry or scream or do nothing but all she knew was that Dr. Crane had not come and she was glad, but it was also breaking her heart. This strong affection, this liking had changed into something powerful and lasting in her very self. What was wrong with her? Could she just give up and go back to her father? Was it that hard to kill Jack and move on? Couldn't she just leave the professor high and dry as her father did with her mother since she was in the hospital or how she had with so many of her henchmen? What was it that made this man, this academic, brilliant, man so important, so alive in her eyes?

She had no other option. It was there, in her heart. All she had to do was acknowledge it. She took the plunge. She nodded.

"Say it."

"I love him."

"Catwoman released her. "The hearts wants what the heart wants. Believe me."

Josephine backed away from her, confused by her own answer. She had done it, admitted it. Her ultimate feelings. Tonight was a whirlwind of emotion. She looked over the horizon and saw a glint of light. The sunrise came.

When she looked back, Catwoman was gone.

Josephine returned to the van's set up but what she found was not what she expected at all. Two vans were aflame. Eight of their remaining men were on the ground moaning or completely unconscious. Some had burns across their faces. Two of them stood over a man on the ground although they blocked her view.

Where was the professor?

In a panic, she hurried forward, pushing the two aside to find Jonathan Crane on the ground, mask- less. Hands covered his face, as he told the henchmen to back off.

"Professor it's me." She knelt by his side, trying to pry his hands away from his face, particularly his eyes."Shh," she calmed him. She reveled in this unique ability. The henchmen watched with curiosity. He was like a child, unwilling to let anyone see his wound. She could only pray that it wasn't as bad as his refutations sounded.

"No, I don't want you to see this. Don't –"

But it was too late.

A/N: So much Rhetoric! Question marks galore! Click the Review Button if you want to tell me what you think. I love ya'll's comments!