Greetings! Thanks to you all! Chapter fourteen…we're really getting on with it aren't we? This is a shocking chapter, well, I think so, anyway. Enjoy.

Four days later…

: One week since arrival

Josephine's work finally showed for something. Almost half the samples of nitrogen, belladonna, and other supplies had vanished under careful concentrations provided by her chemical mastery. She was quite proud of herself, if she did say so. There could be about three large canister of toxin for it. She was unsure what the toxin could be for. Perhaps it would be for some group of police officers or government investigators snooping too close to business. Vision of screeching men, cowering under her, witnessing the deaths and destruction of everything around her aroused her excitement. She grinned at the prospect.

But, Professor Crane was not quite well enough to leave. His eyesight, having not returned, he would not be much help in the experiments. Yes, she could take the notes and enjoy the sight of writhing patients, but Crane being absent was an upset. Besides, they didn't have a flat to return to. She heard word that the police had confiscated the apartment. Everything in there could be considered lost. They would have to find other lodgings. She was not prepared to beg from other rogues for a place to stay. Perhaps Penguin might have something, but still. Her pride was intact. She didn't want to risk it. This was a nice little cottage, and here they would stay.

Sunlight streamed through the small, split window near the ceiling. It was a lovely orange color, nothing like what the city offered. It would be a nice day. Somehow, she felt at peace in this wood. No one chasing after them all the time, being safe, and feeling it was something she had rarely come across in her eighteen years. A week of solitude was perhaps what she needed.

Feeling accomplished, she headed out the door for walk. It would be nice to get out alone. The gorillas were pounding away at whatever barbaric acts they were doing and she did not feel like cursing them again.

It felt nice to clear her head of those fumes. The morning sun warmed her instantly. She wore only a tank top and jeans this morning. Without her chemical gear, she felt naked, but swooned under the morning's beauty. Ivy was right. Nature was bountiful as well as beautiful. The ground was covered in low heath, but had a tree every few yards. Beech trees mostly. All standing tall overlooking her as she wandered away from the house.

She felt like something was calling her.

Some kind of voice whispered to her through the trees. She looked up. The wind nestled itself overhead and flew through the branches. No one was there. Her hair blew in the breeze. She kept following wherever this was leading her.

Deeper and deeper into the forest, she found a grove. Flowers grew wildly everywhere. Dandelions, violets, poppies, roses...they were everywhere. She was amazed at it. All sorts of flora flocked here. It was a winder none grew near the house.

There was a hush. She leant over the flowers. They swayed lightly. A circle formed around them. Josephine didn't know what to do. The flowers had come to life. Well, they were already alive, but not cognitive. The daisies gathered and began to spell words out. The voice accompanied them.

"Josephine…"

It was a woman's voice, but not that…Aunt Ivy's…

"Josephine…I am leaving…away to somewhere else…"

"Ivy? How can you be-?"

"Messages through flowers are one of my accomplishments with the floral world…now; I need to say to you…I'm leaving, forever…Never again…there isn't anything else I want to do…after Batman came, he wrecked my babies and escaped….I was gone but I could feel their agonizing pain as I boarded the ship…"

The flowers quaked under the emotion –their stems swaying back and forth under her empathic influence.

"But…it is not without reward….I….acquired….a helper….he will assist me on my journey south…"

Josephine quirked an eyebrow. "Is it -?"

"…the boy wonder...perhaps so…the formula has taken toll…were you expecting something far worse from me?"

"No, I just thought you would give Gotham one final farewell. Unmasking the boy would be fun."

"Yes, well…I had no interest in it….I wanted to get away from here…"

There was a pang in Josephine's heart. She felt the presence grow slimmer with every word. Soon, she would be gone. She may already be. A tear slid down her cheek, though she tried to hide it.

"My darling…farewell…I will miss you…I wish you only happiness and safety….visit me if you can…love, Ivy…"

"Wait, Ivy! Where are you going? Is it to the Amazon?"

"…goodbye…."

Josephine felt her presence drift off. She as alone in the forest once more, wondering where in the world she could fit in now with Ivy gone, and soon –she would be free of her father…

She walked back to the cottage, feeling loneliness take its toll. But she did have the professor…

That evening, Josephine sat in the living area on the couch, lying there with nothing but her thoughts, a blanket and a fire. She had dismissed the men to go get more wood as they were low. They had grumbled about it being cold outside, but Josephine showed them her knife, and they gladly gave in.

Fire tongue came into the room. His scares barely showed with the fireplace as the only light source. He still wore the rags he came in –he always wore them. She wondered about it momentarily.

"'tongue, if you want, you can change into something else. There are spare clothes in the chests upstairs."

Will it please you for me to do so?

Josephine squinted at him. She considered the question. "I don't know what you mean, but it might be nice for you to change clothes once in a while. Might smell better too…"

An uproar crossed his features. The gaze nearly made sound himself. I do bathe. I do wash my clothes. Pardon me, Madame.

He started to walk upstairs, body rigid. Josephine did not expect such a reaction from him. It was only a suggestion. "Wait, Firetongue!"

He stood on the stairs, and looked back at her, face solemn.

"I'm sorry. Please come back. I didn't mean to say that. I wasn't…thinking. Please come back down here with me."

He lingered on the step for a couple more seconds, and quietly returned to his seat in the chair opposite her. She smiled again. Her gaze went to the fire, flickering away. The flames entranced her, producing her next question. "Firetongue, does fire make you happy?"

His lingering anger gripped the chair arms. His fingernails dug into the plush seating, but he sat there watching her. He beheld the fire.

"Do you talk to it? Back in the alley, when you were playing with it in your hands, it was almost like you were talking to it like it was alive."

Fire isn't alive. It is a force. But it does not live, or breathe. It requires oxygen to survive, but other than that, nothing. He paused, attentively reaching for more to convey. Sometimes, it can make me happy. Sometimes, not very much.

"If I may ask, is it because…you…cannot speak?"

He shuffled in his seat, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. Josephine immediately regretted asking it. He would surely go downstairs and shut the door.

Yes, it is. He looked into her eyes. But you understand me.

Josephine lowered her gaze. She wasn't expecting that. When she looked back at him, his eyes intensely stared at her. It made the Clown Princess uncomfortable. She rubbed her hands together, trying to distract herself from the stare. He did, somehow, care in a way she never thought any of the henchmen would, or hoped they would. It was very disconcerting. He was hired help, not a… Josephine Quinzel was not any person walking on the street. She was…to her dismay, she still felt the pride of it –The Clown Prince's daughter! She was important. And he…she wanted to leave the room, go upstairs –think about all of this.

In her silence, Firetongue was kneeling at her feet. Josephine shook with shock, itching away from him but he took her hands and held them firm. Her green forcedly looked in his. She struggled but he held her firm.

Josephine, you have to know.

"No, don't…I don't want to hear it-"

The fire does not burn for anyone but you. Ever since you spotted us in the Circus….started training us... I always watched you, always stayed by your side. Ink thought about leaving, but I told him no…

"He wanted to abandon me? That dirty little slime-"

No! Don't tell him I said that. I wasn't his fault. It was your father. He didn't want to be tied to him, but I made him stay because of you. I didn't want to leave you.

He settled by her feet, a tear dropping by her foot. Josephine did not know how to react, but he wasn't finished yet.

I know that you most likely do not feel the same about me. I never have had the courage to tell you what I thought, hoping that it would shock you so much you would understand what I am going to warn you. I have to say it now –especially now. I only wish that Dr. Crane treats you well. I still don't trust him completely.

She made to object but held her silence.

I know how you feel about him. I saw you earlier with him, asleep on the bed together.

Josephine shrunk in the couch a bit. The feeling of someone's eyes roving over her and the professor was a feeling she didn't like. The horror.

That was why I attacked him before. I thought he was using you and deceived you. The very thought made me furious.

"I already forgave you for that. Stop talking about it." Being reminded of the event was not very suitable for this situation.

If he does not love you like you love him then he doesn't deserve you!

Josephine held her heart, because it was beating so loudly. As terribly romantic as this whole interview was, she couldn't help but start breathing heavily under his looks. She gazed at him, for the first time, not wanting to hurt his feelings. She would wound him. A hand went to her forehead, closing her eyes. She sighed, massaging her temples.

"Firetongue, don't make me choose. You won't like it."

I don't ask for a choice. I'm asking one question. Does he love you like you do him?

He cared. She knew that –more than any of the other male rogues. Why shouldn't he love her? What was more –why didn't she know for certain the extent of his feelings?

"I don't know."

All of her royal Gotham pride was stripped down by a mere henchmen. This was what happened when you were too close. Her status as a rogue was starting to tip. The momentary pride she felt as Joker's relation diminishing. Firetongue took the liberty to crawl onto the seat beside her. His fingers still massaged her palms. She felt rough calluses she had not thought about before.

Maybe you should ask him. That is all I want. I don't want you abandoned, or worse, captured because of some type of betrayal. Your father is not always a forgiving man.

That was true. He most certainly was not. But she wouldn't take orders from him no matter how heartfelt it may sound. Jonathan wouldn't give her up. He wouldn't do anything of the kind. She had sacrificed too much.

"Listen to me. I forgave you for what you didn't, but you have to trust me. Stop questioning everything I do. You say you love me, but you don't trust my decisions. Just because my affections may be elsewhere does not give you the right to sit and tell me this. If you want proof, I'll get it. But I won't. My private life only affects you for as long as you want it to. Stop telling me about everything I should be doing and just follow." She turned towards the fire. "Just…stop…"

Firetongue sat back in the couch, slouching over lips pursed. He picked himself up and headed down to the basement. Josephine did not feel any sense of pain in what she said. He made a bargain and he would keep it. Everything was fine.

A henchman stuck his head in the door.

"Having a conversation with yourself, Princess?"

She flipped out her knife.

"Okay, okay…" He backed outside. She overheard the murmurs. "Got to get more wood, she's being pissy." She rolled her eyes and leaned her head back.

Everything was going to be fine. But, she couldn't shake the feeling that it wouldn't be.

The next day –at lunchtime, Josephine brought up her specialty to the professor –chicken noodle and grilled cheese. At least she felt like she could do something creative when she took care of him. Cooking was about it out here. With all the science involved in the toxin, it was nice to get away and have some relief. She had gotten up early and strived for more completion. So far, they had enough to take out a large college classroom –but that wouldn't be enough to sustain for long. If they were going to take out something vast –say a police department –it would have to be larger quantities.

She balanced the tray carefully as she walked up the stairs. The yellow liquid sloshed when she wavered on each step, she blew on it as she went, trying to col it before she got to his bedroom. Luckily, his was closest to the stairwell, and she went into his room without spilling too much. The professor was awake. Sitting upright in his bed. He had taken to sleeping in most mornings since his unfortunate accident. He was not too happy with the situation but with a giant fan blowing and constant doses of Aspirin, he was getting much better. Josephine set the tray on his lap.

"Morning Professor."

"You already saw me."

"I know, and I'm saying it again." She sat on the end on the bed, setting everything up with napkins so he wouldn't spill anything on himself. He usually liked to feed himself anyhow. He could do it since their main food was sandwiches or something simple, but today might be a challenge.

"What is it? It smells delicious."

"Guess."

He closed his unseeing eyes and inhaled deeply, using that chemist nose that could probably detect anything with practice. "Mmm, soup is it? It smells like garlic and broth. A hint of vegetables?"

"You forgot the chicken."

"Ah, so it is chicken noodle then?"

"Yes," she folded a napkin and gave it to him to place on his lap. He did so, reaching for the spoon. She placed his hand on the handle, shivering slightly at the touch and pulling away once the metal touched his finger pad.

He brought the spoon forward, leaning towards it. It would be comical if not for the situation. Her father would laugh, but then he would laugh at almost anything that mocked the professor. He and Nigma were the two that he loved to tease the most, labeling them the nerds of Arkham. At least they were brilliant –Crane the most.

"No lunch for you?" He broke her reverie.

"Oh, yes, I've already eaten, Professor. Thank you."

He nodded, reached the spoon forward and sipping on the liquid. He taste it and said, "very tangy. Very good."

She smiled and thanked him quietly. Firetongue's words were beginning to sink in, though she tried to dissuade herself from letting it happen. She tossed and turned last night, wondering about it. Her subconscious would not let it go. Then, she thought of a sneaky way to find his feelings. Perhaps he would be interested in her dreams…

"Professor?"

"Yes?" He drank more of the soup, absorbing the carrots and chicken. He licked his lips.

"I've been having a dream recently, about a woman. I wonder if you could help me."

"I would be delighted to try, my dear."

There it was again. She shivered. "Yes, well, there is a woman sitting on a fence. It's white picket fence if it makes any difference. There she sits for the longest time but can't get off. I don't know why. On one side is a man, on the other, something blocking her view. It's like, like, a veil. She can't see past it it, though she can hear something vaguely on the other side. Well, the man she sees keeps calling her and calling, at first kindly, then harshly his voice grows more and more aggressive with every word. She shirks from it but does not move. She knows he is getting closer, but cannot do anything. Do you know what that means?"

Dr. Crane sat for a moment, replacing the plate onto the tray. He inhaled deeply. "How long have you been having this dream?"

"Only recently, actually," she said shyly, "I don't know what to do about it. It won't go away."

Her gaze wandered from him, sure that he might understand her meaning. He sat there, puzzled at the concept. She twisted her hands in her lap, unable to hide her distress. "Professor, I'm not quite sure about anything anymore."

"About the dream? It obviously suggests you are in some state of-"

"Forget about the damn dream!" She declared louder than she thought. Her head recoiled in guilt. "I'm sorry professor, but I can't…" She couldn't say it. Why? Damn it! Why? How could she not be brave enough for this?

"Josephine?"

Dream concept aside, she had an idea. It was little, but she may as well try it. She had nothing so far to lose, except him. But she would take that chance.

"Professor, can I try something?"

"What is it?"

"I want to give you some of my gratitude for taking me this far –allowing me to stay with you on this trip…even under the circumstances…."

"It was not a problem I took too long to decide on, Josephine. You may know that I do care for your well-being beyond what may be deemed typical of an employer."

"Honestly?" she whispered.

He stiffened. "Yes."

"I still want to do something…" Josephine didn't know how to go about it, but she climbed closer to him. She was nearly sitting beside him; knees near his side, her breath touched his cheek. She leant forward, mustering her bravery and chastely pressed her lips to his.

At first, she was met with surprise, his body stiffened against hers. But, he relaxed after a couple of seconds. Their breath quickened and he responded, placing pressure against her mouth. It was meant to be a chaste kiss, but Josephine found herself wanting to touch his face, wanting him to wrap his arms around her. Before any of that could happen, she pulled away for breath.

She remained only an inch away from his face, her eyes closed. She leant her forehead against his. "Jonathan…"

His hands raised, he moved the forward in search of her face. She lightly guided them to her cheeks. He found her temples and began to massage them with his thumbs. "Josephine…I-"

"Professor, please don't shatter this for me," she said, eyes till closed.

"Josephine, what does this mean to you?" He asked softly. "Does it mean something more than just gratitude?"

She swallowed. "Yes, it does. Please don't take it away from me. I've risked so much. I don't want to go back."

His hands moved to her cheeks, resting there. Their warmth made her cheeks blush. She felt her breath catch. "You know better than most what I am." His voice went cold. "I've offered others the chance I've offered you," he pulled away, "but they refused." He inhaled loudly, a strong wave of emotion overcame him. His voice was mottled with choked sobs.

"Please don't talk about that girl, Professor. Not here. I'm not her." Tears streaked down her face as her eyes pinched shut, trying to stop the flow. She didn't want any mention of Becky Albright tonight. Plucky Becky. Brave Becky. Josephine was braver than her by thousands!

"She despised me, called me a monster. I'm not a monster Josephine. Never ever call me that. I'm not." He was nearly crying now. The heartbreak was stronger than she thought and she was weeping too. She hoped he would stop it, stop referring to the past love. It was breaking her heart to hear him speak about her, even if it wasn't in an affectionate tone.

"You're not a monster. I want to be with you. I choose to be with you, always. I want to be by your side. You treat me so well, unlike anyone else. Professor, please…don't…"

"Josephine, I love saying your name," his breath was low and wondrous, as if discovering something for the first time, "ever since Arkham, ever since you came back. I had thought you wanted to repay your debt, but there was something more when you first told me you would be with me. I had always hoped…hoped that you would be…mine."

She started to stroke his face, wiping the tears away. She kissed his forehead tenderly.

"Promise me you won't abandon me. I don't know if I could take that again. Don't tease me."

"I promise I will never let you go as long as I live. Without your say-so, you are mine, Jonathan Crane, until the end of time. You always will be."

Another tear dripped down his face. "My Josephine," he kissed her cheek. Then with a wild grin he shouted, "My Josephine!" He pushed her against the sheets, he atop her. She laughed as he covered her cheeks in kisses, occasionally kissing her neck. Then, with his tip, he guided his index finger over her chin and her lips, letting it linger there. She pursed her lips against it. He held her jaw, and lowered his lips to hers. It was much less chaste that time. She wrapped her arms around him, bringing him closer.

He lay beside her, nuzzling her tresses. She touched his auburn hair lovingly. "You want to know a secret?" His hand found her thigh and began to massage it lightly. Goosebumps spread over her legs and she brought her legs closer to herself and hugged them, snuggling closer to him.

"Yes, Jonathan?" His breath tickled her neck. She couldn't get enough of his tenderness. This sort of physical touch she had never experienced before, especially from him.

"I love you Josephine Quinzel."