AN: 'Fear of deep water'. Perfectly rational, if you ask me-who knows what the hell's down there. I'm sorry, but I've seen plenty of documentaries. I KNOW THINGS. (Nobody in their right mind goes swimming anywhere but an indoor pool in Gotham, by the way-Croc could be in there with you.)

Recommended listening: Ludo's 'Lake Pontchartrain'.

McStaken-He appreciates nothing! Nothing, I tell you! I save his furniture from the flippy bird, I bring him booze, I feed his damn birds when he's away, what thanks do I get? ZILCH. I'm only alive because I have the spare e-mail passwords, I KNOW IT.-Dove

Forbidden Moons-I'm inclined to suspect stress, medications, and a predisposition to a complete breakdown...Arkham's not a healthy environment. As for the Penguin...somehow, I'm not overly concerned.

The water surrounding Gotham is…well, it's just as gray and likely-to-be-filled-with-corpses as the rest of the city. The area by the east docks is the worst. This is probably because it's a prime meeting spot for…unsavory…activities. Everybody knows that if you see anyone there after six PM, they're doing something illegal, turn around and leave while you still can.

It smells. Jonathan's personal theory is that it's a hang-on from all the bodies that end up here. That's thing, with all the criminal activity. Tempers run high, somebody doesn't get their money, and BAM!, there's a corpse in the water.

"He's late." Kitty grouses, looking at her phone. The light's brighter than it probably should be. "This is ridiculous."

"Mm." What time is it, anyway…after midnight. He didn't leave work early for this! If their contact isn't here in the next fifteen minutes, he's going to have a brand-new test subject. (New formula, it's lasting longer than it was, but it brings with it seemingly permanent amnesia-nobody's remembered anything at all and it's frustrating.) "Maybe something's happened to him."

"Serves him right." She yawns and leans her head on him, eyes fluttering closed. "You're warm."

"I'm warmed by irritation."

"Tha's good."

He slumps against her and they fall into a companionable silence, watching the dark, choppy waters. They're saying a shark was sighted out there last week, a big one. Jonathan would normally scoff, but Cobblepot's become decidedly interested and that…that makes him wonder. Penguin's a rational man, usually. Why in the world he wants a shark is a mystery, but…

Maybe the shark ate their correspondent.

If Jonathan's being very honest with himself-and why not, he's bored-he's not…overly fond…of water. Never has been. To be fair, there's been a couple of incidents that didn't help, but even as a very little boy, he was never one to get too close to the water's edge. Guster's Pond, back in Arlen, was deeper than it looked, and there were grasping weeds down there that caused more than one drowning. Gotham? He's not getting near anything that's not well-lit and sanitized. Who knows what's in it.

"What's that?"

Kitty, unfortunately, has no such common sense.

"What."

She points. He looks, sees nothing because it's dark and it's raining and nobody can see anything in that water anyway.

"There's something out there."

"Helpful."

"C'mon, maybe it's our…friend."

He hopes so. If they leave in the next half-hour, they can stop by that Chinese place that's open 'til two and grab dinner.

Mm…wontons.

They shuffle towards the edge of the docks. Yeah, there's…nothing whatsoever. No contact, no nothing.

Ugh.

"Well?"

"I thought I saw…" She shrugs. "Nothing, I guess."

"Do you need to borrow my glasses?" She flicks him, barely noticeable with all the layers. He smirks at her and deadpans, "Oh, the agony."

If she's got a comeback, she doesn't get to say it-an arm bobs to the surface. That's nothing special. Distasteful, but nothing special-

CHOMP!

They're running away from the edge before the water stops churning.

"The hell-"

"No idea-"

"-you see-"

A thick, scaly hand pops up and grips the dock and you know what, never mind about the contact, they'll reschedule.

They're in the car and driving away before whatever the hand belongs to can haul itself up.

"Next time, we meet in a building."

"Agreed."

THE END