Okay, so I took forever on this chapter and was behind on my outline. I hope this suffices. Thanks to all who follow me on this ride. I'm getting sick at the moment, so reviews make me feel better. I have a speech on Monday, so wish me luck on that as well (FYI).

The night wore over with the vroom of the van over the hillside. Josephine trudged back to the cottage, looking much more like a dragon than ever. She shriveled into her mental ball, hugging herself against the world's treatment of her from that ignorant idiot. She couldn't believe him.

"He's lying. That sack of guts, he's lying through his teeth! Joker hasn't promised him anything. He wouldn't. He couldn't. That's not how he operates. They got to the front door. Josephine thrust it open, the door slamming against the wall followed by a semi moment of strained silence before the echo raced through the house like a gunshot.

"That man deserves to die." She grit. "He thinks he knows everything."

"What the hell's going on here?" asked the henchmen who raced from the kitchen, beans dribbling from his chin. "What're you doing?"

"I hate that man." Josephine glared at the henchmen, causing him to quirk a brow and wave a chicken leg at her.

"No one knows what you're talking about! No one ever knows." He turned to Firetongue. "She's mad. That what she is. Crazy like her father-"

Josephine lunged at him, utter hatred and vice coursing through her veins. She caught his throat, clenching the dilated air valve between her index and thumb. A sneer moved across her face as she thumbed it hard. He tried not to swallow, but he did and more air escaped from him. His breathing lessened.

He wheezed. "Let…me…go…please…..I…sorry….."

"I don't think you're very sorry at all."

The man coughed like a whooper. He hacked, back against the wall like a caged animal.

"Watch me do what I do best," she hissed, still not letting the man go. She was about to see the life escape his eyes when a pair of hands delivered the man from his fate. Josephine fell backwards against a chest and was hauled outside, shutting the door in the process. The hands guided her to the front lawn where it was much darker. She kicked and fought but only halfheartedly. She couldn't undo the hold until she was thrown down. The grass stained her knees as they buckled beneath her, causing a crack from her joints. She winced in pain and looked up to see Firetongue hover over her, a glare across his features. She glared back,

"What's the matter with you?" She asked, evilly.

Quick as he threw her, he began pacing like a wild animal. His stride moved quick and animated, harsh with the conforms of his angular body. He wrung his hands, freshly heated with the blood in his veins.

What is he going to do? What is he planning?

"Planning? He's planning nothing. It's nothing but a farse to distract us. We just have to be smarter."

He flipped directions, staring her in the face. If he catches us, he won't let us go. He'll drag us all to Joker. Then, it's over.

"Everyone overdramatizes everything in Gotham. Every situation doesn't lead to Hell. No matter how much it seems that way. We just have to be smarter."

He growled like a dragon and began filling the meadow with flames. A loud roar of the crackling, dying plants screamed out. The flames ate and ate -hungry for vengeance as their master. Josephine stared at them for a moment. She grasped her roots and tugged, splayed her fingers through her hair and raking her fingers through, mashing down the follicles destructively.

"Ergh, stop it now before you roast us all in this Hell!"

He stopped breathing and watched as the flame ate more and more of the meadow. Soon, it might be baked to high heaven and the earth would be anew, ready for the spring.

"I'm not going to let him win. I'm not. Even if he only thinks that this amount of time is over, it isn't it's only just begun." Her voice lowered in intensity. She stared down the road where the van was. Her eyes lit in emerald. Her breathing was rapid. He's going down. Let him get comfortable. Let him think that everything's okay, that the water is just room temperature. It'll boil at the precise moment." She turned to Firetongue. "I'll be there to drive the blade."

She hurled her knife into the earth. Cling.

A Week Later….

Josephine slept in that morning. She had spent time on the chemistry many more hours than what she had before and was glad to have some rest. Sleep was very welcome in her eyes. There were changes around the woods. The goons were not being quite so idiotic and managed to not kill themselves around the basement when she ordered them to haul the finished formula to the barn outside. She was actually impressed. Not as dumb as they look.

Firetongue was warmed up to the idea of her and the Professor as a couple. He didn't glare at them anymore. The professor could now come downstairs with her, but most of the time he stayed upstairs. She converted the spare room into an office for him, so that he could get out of his room and do something else for a change. The hyperthermia was so much better. His breathing was softer and he was stronger. He didn't need the intrusive rusted fan in his room anymore. When she felt his forehead, it wasn't temperature of the sun. It was 98.8. He was almost as good as new.

The eyesight was a problem.

He was beginning to see, but was frustrated that he still couldn't do anything about it but wait. It was irritating for him, not being able to do anything about it. But, he had Josephine. She would help guide him to his office, where he could feel the sun on his face and enjoy the fresh air form a better standpoint. He could make it on his own, but he enjoyed her company and being with her. She enjoyed him as well. Love changed things. It was different, but good.

Josephine woke up, snuggled in her bed. Her morning greeting was a licking by Chap. He whined for her to play but she resisted. His ears were soft like velvet and she loved to sit and pet him, though he would not sit for long.

Tossing her legs over the side, she went out and into the office. There was the professor, sitting there in a chair in front of an open window. The morning air was full of flowers –sweet and welcoming. The sun threaded through the air in golden dust. Jonathan sat with his eyes closed, breathing deeply. He rocked back and forth.

Josephine approached, sneaking up and slid a hand down his arm. He exhaled loudly. She kissed the corner of his mouth. "Good morning."

"'Morning." He rocked gently.

She knelt by his side. "How are you feeling?"

"Good today. Though I can't say too much about my view of the world around me, but I can hope that it will come back soon."

"Mmm…I know it will. It was nice to sleep in. Good idea."

"You're welcome. You deserve it."

"You know…Christmas is in about a week. What do you want to do about it?"

"Stay inside, Try not to think about it too much."

"Ugh," She slapped him playfully. "No, we are not going to do that. Just because that's how you spent your last Christmas."

"No, I didn't. You came to visit me."

"I did?"

"Yes, you did. It was delightful. You and I worked whilst we drank far too much and feel asleep."

"Then I woke up with a blanket on me. Oh that was you! Even then you couldn't help but be chivalrous!" She kissed him on the cheek. "See, you do have good points. Pining away for me like you did. It was sweet of you. Painful, probably, but sweet."

"You pined for me, so don't you talk."

She shook her head. "I know, I know. Let's get back to the topic at hand. Christmas. Yes or no."

"Yes to what?"

"Oh I don't know, holiday cheer, presents..." She shrugged her shoulders, hands raising simultaneously behind his neck. "Mistletoe…" her lips found his. Her forehead rested against him.

"Hm…tempting. Christmas never was a fuss to me. I didn't bother."

"But you can bother now because I'm here, and I can make your dreams come true." She grinned.

"So ironic, dear, but maybe we should think about other matters."

"Such as?"

"Your friend?"

"My…oh I see….Firetongue."

"I assume he still hasn't come to terms with anything yet."

"Well no," she narrowed her eyes to the corner, "as usual."

"Give him some time. But if he doesn't want to join, he doesn't have to. He can stay."

"That's what I told him, but he doesn't care about it. He likes to mope. Even if he apparently loves me…"

The words were out before she could do anything. "Loves you? Since when?"

"Since…hmm forever, I guess. He only told me a few days ago." Upon seeing the sorrowful gaze wash over his face, "oh now come on. You know I love you. He's my partner, not my lover. I told him to leave me. It's best he stay here."

"He'd better. I'll make him."

She giggled. "I'm liking you jealous. It suits you."

"Ha ha, very funny." He kissed her cheek. "Now, what about the holidays?"

The next morning, Professor Crane rolled out of bed. The wooden floors were more familiar to him than any apartment or hideout he had ever occupied. He could live her forever. The rough unpolished floors sanded away the skin on his feet, imprinting their marks. He stumbled forward, catching himself on the banister. The rug below was rough, but he noticed something different. There was a light there. A spot on the mystifying design. He reached for it. A ray shone from the window, he looked up, wincing. It became more intense as he neared the glass. The morning light greeted him with such affection it was almost religious. The pane was alit in the most vibrant scene he had ever seen.

He paused. Seen.

Trees. Grass. Frost on the ground.

He rubbed his lids and looked again. It was the same. His jaw lowered slightly.

The professor could see again!

Downstairs that same morning, it was quiet. Chemicals were left untouched. Some bubbled questionably in their vats, beckoning their mistress to return to them. But, it was to no avail for their case. She was asleep –strewn on the sofa – brain punctured by fumes and equations. Finally, she collapsed under exhaustion.

Jonathan warily made his way downstairs to find something to eat. His eyes adjusted to the new light. It tinged a bit, but it was welcome. Sensitivity was not going to make him wish for the darkness again. If only Josephine could see. When he spied her on the couch, all curled in her slumber, he couldn't wake her. Abandoning his stomach's wishes, he made his way to her side. Her chest rose and fell delicately with every breath. A tinge of pink colored her cheeks. She must have been into some Merlot left.

He smiled to himself. Watching her was far more enjoyable than the irritations of dealing with henchmen and attempting to find the bat's fear. The bat. The man had eluded him for years. Always, always a separation…a veil to be metaphorical. Never was it easy to catch a bat. Quitting was not the ideal. He was no quitter. His work demanded the absolute dedication from him. But, he looked over Josephine, the light snoring was faint captured his attention in a way nothing had before. He watched her longer. In a while, he noticed that he had been staring at her for nearly five whole minutes without reprieve.

Women. He used to scoff at them. Their feminine wiles used to charm men. Poison Ivy used them. Catwoman abused them. All he knew were perpetrators of his sex. He was constantly at odds and in anger with them.

All except Josephine.

He heard a noise. Turning, he saw Firetongue in the corner. His amber eyes were alit in something. Though, the professor of psychology had an idea what it was.

"You don't like me very much do you?" he asked.

Of course, he got no answer. At least, one that he could read. The professor exhaled through his nose. "Why is it that you don't like me so much? Am I some sort of threat to you? Because I'm a Gotham Rogue, is it? Yes, that's probably it."

Firetongue's eyes flickered to Josephine and to him in a millisecond. Dr. Crane tongued his cheek. "If you think I'm going to give her up, you're wrong."

Firetongue's gaze hardened, his scars becoming more prominent. S nostrils flared. He stepped forward. It was then Jonathan noticed the glint of something in his right hand. "What are you going to do?" he asked blandly.

The fire breather stepped closer, brows together. Jonathan thought quickly and plopped down beside Josephine on the floor. He situated himself between her and he coffee table. He angled so that he had a clear view of her face. His knees rose. Arms wrapped around them. Thumbs twiddled.

"You know, Josephine Quinzel is perhaps the only woman I have ever loved," he began. Firetongue's expression didn't change but the blade went down a little. "She was always there for me. In my beginning I had no one. It was solitary. In my school days, I was unaided. In college, as a professor, a director, the same.

"My life was hard in my younger years. It was something I am both glad and ashamed of. For one, it made me the intellectual I am. I studied. I poured over my books until after college. Even then, I planned and learned all I could to test my theories. In another, I was left without a shred of social skills. I could have gone farther if someone had been by my side, or had spoken to my in any friendly way, but that was impossible. Of course, I was given talks. About my work. 'It was dangerous. The students were afraid.' Good. That was the point. That was all the point. You see," he paused, "There was a great deal about me that the doctors didn't understand. So, I made them understand in my own way." He glared at the boy. "I don't have to tell you how I did that."

He glanced to his sleeping love. Eyes softened, mouth relaxed. "But her…She was different in every facet.

"I was alone before. Everything was different. I thought the world revolved around the toxins. It was easy to get so absorbed. But when she came, it all changed. Since our first meeting, there has always been something different about her than the others. She…cares about me. Honestly, without any type of plan, use or exploitation. This trip made me realize something."

He felt her face, her hair. "I love her more than anything. If staying with her means I will give up my work….then so be it. I won't live without her." He stroked her hair lovingly. Lips pressed again her hair. Inhaled scent.

Firetongue replaced his blade into his pants. Closed eyes. Head turned away. Ashamed.

Later that day, Josephine ate on the sofa, legs curled beneath her. Chap lay loyally at her feet. She tossed some food to him every once in a while. Firetongue came in. Josephine eyed him. He had been gone most of the afternoon. She had not seen the professor either. Was there trouble afoot?

"Where have you been all day?" she asked in good humor.

Out. With Dr. Crane.

Josephine sat straight in surprise. Really? Had he? Jonathan's coming home would be the first step of proof in that. If he didn't, then someone would have to answer for a couple things…

"What were you doing by yourselves?"

He showed me the different herbs growing around here whilst you slept.

"Oh, well that sounds innocent enough." She turned back toward the fire but the fire breather cleared his throat. She turned. "Hm?"

He has a surprise for you later.

"Oh? Really?" She was happy now. I wonder what he –wait, you said he showed you herbs?"

Firetongue nodded. Josephine couldn't suppress the grin on her face.

"Have you worked things out with the professor?"

Firetongue's eyes glinted. Yes.

"Not more talk about him not being "worthy" of me?"

Never.

"Perfect."

The poll is still open on my page if any of you guys want to plug in an answer.

A "whooper" is what I call someone with a whooping cough. It sounds like death.