(A/N: Daaaaang, Cerulean! Back at it again with a new chappie! Lol, I'm back you guys and I bring to you a new chapter containing the one and only Joker, as promised. Please enjoy!)

Part Nine: All Smiles

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is Tippy's face surrounded by an almost heavenly glow. Tears dot the corner of her hazel eyes but her smile is relieved.

"Rose! You're awake!" she beams. Some of the tears drop from her eyes and land on my face. The liquid warmth splashing against my cold skin further helps me to shake out of my deep slumber. I blink and fight back a yawn. I feel so tired, like I've been asleep for days, no, months. I try to stretch my arms and back a bit but Tippy gently pushes my arms back down so that they rest beside my body.

"Careful, you'll pull out your IV," she warns.

IV? What is she talking about?

I twist my neck a bit and gaze down at my arm. Sure enough, there's a needle wedged into the soft flesh at the crook of my elbow, with a tube leading up into an IV bag filled with a clear liquid. Even more horrifying than the sharp object digging into me is the small, pink scratches decorating parts of my arms.

Noticing my confused look, Tippy explains. "Scratches from broken glasses and beer bottles those creeps smashed on you."

I flop back in bed and stare up at the ceiling of my hospital room. "So that crazy night did happen, huh," I murmur, feeling more like I'm in a daze than awake right now.

Tippy's brow furrows. "Yeah, it did. I swear upon everything that I am, when I find that creep who took you to that club and set you up, I will end up in prison."

I force out a laugh, but it hurts my throat so much that I have to cut it short and cough instead. "We both will," I say, only half-joking. As the events of that night of the club come crashing back down, my resolve to let Tippy do whatever she pleases to the creep known as Kole increases.

Kissing.

Touching.

Laughter.

Flashing.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

"Rose, your pulse rate is going up," Tippy notes. I look up at my heart monitor and see that the little green lines have picked up in speed and grown closer together. I take a deep breath to try and calm myself. Successful in pushing away the unpleasant memories for now, my mind turns to someone else I desperately need to see. I glance around the tiny hospital room and look back to Tippy.

"Where's Bane?" I ask.

Tippy nods her head towards the door. "He's explaining some things to the GCPD with that cute detective dude," she explains. "That detective is a pretty good guy. I think Bane won't get into any trouble with him there."

Blake is here, thank goodness. She's right; if Blake's around, Bane might just get out of going to prison.

I cough again and groan when a sharp pain shoots around my head like an out of control bottle rocket.

Tippy frowns and climbs to her feet. I notice she's still in the same outfit she wore when she came to rescue me from the club.

"I'll go get you some light food and water and send a doctor in here," she offers. Her small hand goes to my forehead and she smiles. "I'm glad you're okay, Rosey."

I return her smile with a weak one of my own and watch as she exits my room. I settle back in my bed, nursing the massive hangover that came with having a huge amount of alcohol forcefully poured down your throat.

Those freaking creeps.

I roll over on my side and chew on my lip. I'm not going to think about them and I'm not going to cry. But just a flicker of a memory, just an inkling of the image of those creeps with their hands all over me and all of those people snapping pictures of me, and no one coming to help…. It makes me want to throw up.

I gag and quickly slap my hands over my mouth. I hear my heart monitor's beeping pick back up, its loud noises intertwining with my ragged breathing.

I'm okay now. Tippy and Bane saved me. I'm alright.

Suddenly, the door to my room swings open and in strolls the doctor that Tippy promised me. I roll back over so that I'm lying on my back again and watch the doctor enter.

Something about this doctor is…off. For one, his hair looks very unkempt. There's no way that mop of yellowish green hair passed the dress code when he came walking into work today. He's wearing a surgical mask over his face, so I can't really make out his features, but I can tell that he's wearing make-up. Not light make-up, either, but a bunch of gunky, costume make-up. The top of his face is covered in cheap, white face paint while his eyes are circled and smudged with something black. Humming and completely ignoring me, the dirty doctor begins going through the cabinets near my bed. Just by watching him, I know that he's not familiar with this room or the medical instruments and their locations. He's flinging stuff, sharp stuff I should add, left and right, as careless as can be. I watch as he pulls out needle after needle, scalpels, drills, and other scary instruments.

I can only swallow and watch as he lays each of his chosen tools on the little rolling table beside me. The light from above makes each instrument wink and grin mischievously at me. My eyes bounce from the tools to the doctor, who is still humming his unrecognizable tune.

"Um, ah…," I whisper at the doctor. My voice still isn't strong enough to rise much above a whisper. I don't really want to force myself either since my head is still hurting like crazy and I have a feeling that loud noises won't help. "Are you my doctor…?"

The doctor finally stops messing with the cabinets and just stands there. With two sharp movements, he shuts the cabinets and spins around to face me. His eyes dance with some sort of hidden amusement, like someone told a hilarious joke but he's the only one who understood it.

"Hi," he drawls. His voice is low and scratchy, almost like he's growling at me. I can tell that he's smiling at me from behind that flimsy mask, but knowing that doesn't make me feel any better. The smell of cheap cologne and low quality booze floods up my nose as the man leans a bit closer to my bed. There's something off-putting about his eyes, almost as though he's plotting something as he watches my face, and I'm pretty sure it's not my prescription.

If I wasn't sure about it before, I'm almost one hundred percent positive now: this guy isn't my doctor.

"Who are you?" I ask.

The doctor laughs and it's so unlike his voice, it startles me. It's a high-pitched, clustered burst of giggles and its loudness is very much unfitting of our quiet conversation.

"Why, I'm your doctor, silly," he teases. Another quick movement and he's picked up the scalpel and put it under my nose. "See? I've got my tools and everything."

I eye the scalpel that's near my face, swallow, and then turn my attention back to the make-up wearing intruder. Seeing that I'm not buying his lies, the "doctor's" smile droops somewhat. The scalpel vanishes into his pocket. He tugs at the collar of his long, white coat, seeming a bit miffed.

"All of those years at medical school and still no one believes I'm certified," he mumbles, more to himself than to me.

Okay, I have no idea who this guy is, but I want this crazy out of here, now. The only thing certified about him may be that he is certifiably insane.

I scoot up in bed, trying to make myself appear a bit taller and as formidable as a girl in a hospital gown can be. "If you don't leave my room, now," I croak, my voice breaking as it slowly increases in volume, "I'll call for—"

"Who? Your beefed-up roomie?" The fake doctor giggles. "Sorry, party-girl, but he's a little tied up with the nice police right now."

"I-I was going to say the real doctors," I stammer. I don't know why, but I feel embarrassed that this guy thinks that Bane is my knight in shining armor or something. I don't know why I'm embarrassed—heck, I don't even know who this man is! "Since the police are here in the hospital, I think they might be interested in an intruder sneaking into patients' rooms and pretending to be a doctor."

Another giggle. "Ooooh, you are sharp, babysitter!" he sings. His grin is wide, manic behind the mask. "You'd think that someone as clever as you wouldn't be in a situation like this, hm?"

I flinch at his words and sag a little more heavily against the bed. I pull the covers up to my chin and glare up at the make-up wearing intruder. "It wasn't my fault," I hiss.

"I don't know about you," the man croons, "but I feel like seeing what the masses are up to today." Without asking, he snatches up the TV remote that's near me and points it at the television that's mounted on the stark-white wall. The dark screen flashes on and all at once, I'm greeted with various photos of Kole groping me.

My jaw just about hits the floor. I shake my head from side to side, muttering, "no" over and over. Tears are threatening to spill out of my eyes as picture after picture flashes across the screen. The media has those photos? How?

Candace Weaver sits in front of the derogative pictures, her pretty, pink lips marred by a disgusted grimace.

"Is this the type of person we want in charge of such a sensitive case like the Bane case? One who parties to the point that she winds up in the hospital? One that abandons her post as caretaker for a night of pleasure at such a despicable place as Club Gothix? This girl is not suited for the job; that much is clear. Already, there are dozens of others stepping up, offering to take over her job as the caretaker of Bane. I, for one, think that anyone besides this young woman should be considered for that post. Let's not forget, a vote from Candace Weaver is not one to be taken lightly, folks."

"You precocious, spoiled, little…." My fingers dig into my sheets as the tears begin to flow. I immediately feel guilty for talking badly about the disgruntled news reporter: she didn't take those pictures. Sure, her opinion of me sucks, but she's not to blame. She's just thinking what everyone else is going to think once they see this broadcast.

I glare up at my pictures, half-embarrassed, half-angry. "Everyone's going to see this!" I wail at my pretend doctor. "My family, my friends… Bane."

Bane.

Oh my gosh.

I bury my wet, burning face into my hands and start to sob. "They're going to take him away from me," I whisper. "Because of my stupidity."

After a few more moments of crying, I hear the man in the room give a bored sigh.

"Have you finished with the theatrics yet?" I look up and find him giving me an expectant look, one brow raised. I wipe my face with the back of my hands, gathering up the tears and sliminess and force a small nod.

"Yes? Good." The man rubs his hands together and proceeds to sit down on the edge of my bed, without my permission. He takes in a breath, preparing to speak, but I quickly jump in with my own question, much to his annoyance.

"Who the heck are you?"

Another annoyed sigh. "Listen, sweetheart. Do you want my help or not? Because I'm a very busy man," he quips, while dusting off his arms.

Help? Why would this stranger want to help me? I stare at the fidgeting man dressed in doctor's clothing and topped off with greasy, stringy hair. He stares back, awaiting my answer with eager eyes.

I'm sure, in normal circumstances, I would have already hit the "call" button on the side of my bed and summoned the real doctors to come and get this fake out of here. But these aren't normal circumstances and I'm feeling desperate enough to hear this man out, even if he doesn't seem like anything more than a crazy who stole some poor doctor's lab coat.

A few more moments of doubt before I finally cave in under my curiosity. "…How can you help me?"

The man giggles, delighted with my answer. "See, I like you," he hums. "Straight to the point, my kind of gal. You're in good hands, believe me. I'm—"

"I haven't agreed to anything yet," I remind him in a blunt voice, causing his face to fall. "I just want to know how you think you can help me."

"Simple." He holds up two latex-clad fingers so that his face and mine dance in the space between them. "I'm offering to make those little, ah, dirty photos of you disappear…poof!" He throws his fingers outwards, miming hand-sized fireworks. I try not to give a reaction to his words, but my shocked intake of air can't be helped.

I hear him lick at his lips and then he continues. "As an added bonus, I'll even make little, let's call them 'accidents', happen to the people you want them to happen to most." He leans in so close that I can feel and smell his breath, and it's not pleasant.

"Those people who sent the media your photos and set you up last night," he finishes.

I hang my head and glare at my hands, which are folded neatly atop the white pool of fabric gathered in my lap.

"Kole, Trevor, and Marcy…." I murmur, saying out loud the names that have been gnawing at my brain since I regained consciousness. Just saying their names leaves a horrible, lingering taste on my tongue. An "accident" doesn't sound too bad. They deserve it after what they did to me, right?

I blanch and squeeze my eyes shut again, hoping the vengeful images dancing behind my eyelids will disintegrate by the time they open again.

I can feel the doctor's eyes on me, gauging the reaction I give to his words. I force my eyes open and find that he is indeed staring at me. The look in his dark eyes is impatient yet excited.

"So, what do you say, Valencia G. Paisley? Do we have ourselves a deal?"

Immediately, I feel my safeguards snap back into place.

"How do you know my name?" I ask.

The doctor picks up a clipboard from the counter near the medical cabinets. He flips his clipboard around so that I can see what papers are pinned there. The first thing I see is a photo of me. In the photo, I was flying a kite on the golden shores of Daytona Beach. One of my hands was clutching onto my sunhat, keeping it from flying upwards and joining my colorful kite in the sky. I was laughing so hard that day because my kite had the tendency to land in people's picnics and on sunbathers. Each time it landed, the target got worse and even more hilarious. My family and I were in hysterics. I have that same very photo pasted on the wall in my bedroom. As far as I know, it's a one of a kind photo that was taken by one of those old-fashioned instant print cameras. There's no way this guy could have a copy!

But that's not even the most disturbing thing I see on the clipboard. There's all sorts of files there, including a copy of my birth certificate (which has my real name right across the top of it) and essays I wrote for my Creative Writing class. There's more photos of me, but I weren't even aware these existed. They were photos of Bane and I hanging out at the beach in Orlando, walking to our hotel room, and fudge, even one of us hugging. To someone who doesn't know our relationship, these could look, well... romantic! Who took these pictures?!

My jaw is literally on the ground. I snap out of my awe and make a wild grab for the clipboard, which the doctor hastily pulls out of my reach.

"Where did you get all of that?!" I shout. The force I put in my voice causes me to cough a few times. Once I've recovered, I jab a finger towards him and wheeze out, "That's private stuff!"

"Apparently not, since it's in my hands," the man teases. When he sees that I don't find him or this situation amusing in the least, he sighs and sits back down on the bed.

"Valencia…"

"It's Rose!" I correct him. Having someone like him call me by my real name just makes me feel disgusted.

"Right, Rose," he consents. His eyes fall back to his clipboard. "Where'd you pick up that nickname, anyway? I don't remember reading anything in your files about you being a flower aficionado…?"

I make another mad grab for my files, but once again fail. The man falls into a mad fit of giggles at my outburst.

"Ahh, another favor done for you by your masked pet? I thought so." He wags his finger at me and clucks his tongue in a disapproving manner. "You know, for a babysitter, it seems like he's the one doing most of the sitting, don't you? He's already saved your skin…twice, hm? Three times? I've lost count. Maybe the blonde on television was on to something when she said there should be someone else taking care of him."

I feel myself bristling at his words. "You don't know what you're talking about," I whisper. "We look out for each other." As much as I want to believe what I say, I know that what he said holds some truth to it.

"That's why he's being interrogated by the police right now, isn't it?" the doctor counters.

His words drive the painful stake he's wedged into my heart even deeper. I'm not a good babysitter; not at all. I get us into all sorts of trouble. Maybe he's right. Maybe Bane should have someone else taking care of him, someone who is more capable than I am, someone who won't hinder the program to reenter him into society. At this rate, he'll never get to live a normal life. I'm holding him back with all of the problems I cause.

I slump forward, unable to counter his verbal attacks. Mustering up what little confidence in myself I have left, I meet his eyes. "Why are you here?" I ask.

He laughs, like this is the most obvious question in the world. "I said I wanted to make a deal! I'm pretty good at magic tricks; I know how to make your buddies disappear, without so much as a trace. All you have to do in return is relinquish your prized position as Bane's caretaker." His voice has dipped into a deep, scratchy growl by the end of his sentence. He leans towards me, excitement bouncing around in those wild eyes of his.

"Do we have ourselves a deal?" he finishes.

I look up at the television, where my photos are still on full display, before slowly lowering my gaze back to the make-up wearing impostor in front of me. Bane's always protecting me; it's time to start doing the same for him.

I shake my head. "Don't mess with the people from the club," I state, my voice more firm than it's been in a long time. "Violence is the last thing I want right now. If anything were to happen to those people, they would immediately blame Bane and I don't want that to happen."

The man seems ready to protest but I hold up a finger, successfully lulling him back into silence.

"But I'll do the other thing you asked anyway," I say. "I'll stop being Bane's caretaker."

The gleeful expression on the man's face almost makes me rethink my decision.

"Smart move, Valencia," he sings, while taking notes on his clipboard. "You won't regret this. Probably," He adds with a dismissive shrug.

"It's Rose," I correct him. "And, remember: don't hurt any of the people from the club."

"Noted," he says, without looking up from his clipboard. With a final, punctual click of his pen, he looks at me. His hand snakes up to his mask and, in a single motion, he pulls it down.

I nearly gasp at the sight of his marred face. His lips are smothered in bright red lipstick and twisted up into the most maniacal smile I've ever seen. The corners of his mouth seem to have migrated up to the apples of his cheeks, a Glasgow grin of disturbing proportions.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Valenicia, dear," he purrs. "Get well soon."

With that, the clown slips out of my room as quietly as he entered. As soon as he's gone, I bury my face back into my hands and I'm fighting back sobs.

I can't believe I'm saying this but… letting Bane go is the last thing I want to do. I've become so spoiled. I don't know how I'll get along without my surly roommate. I'll miss our bickering and playful bantering over board games like Scrabble. I'll miss our training sessions on the roof, where we fight until the sun goes down and then talk next to the stars until I nearly fall asleep with my head on his shoulder. I'll miss his little one-word responses when I get home from work and complain about my day.

Darn it, I'll miss him. I really hate admitting that, but it's true. Life is going to be kind of lonely without him. Really lonely. But I want him to have a shot of having a normal life. Living with someone as weak and pitiful as me, he'll never get that chance because he'll have to constantly keep putting himself in the limelight to save my weak butt. A million training sessions wouldn't change the fact that I'm still a kid compared to him, a weak one at that. He needs someone who is mature, strong, and capable. Basically, he needs the opposite of me.

Man, that hurts. I feel the wetness on my hands before I even realize that I'm crying. I sit in my hospital room, crying and listening to the hateful messages against me blare from the television for a long time before the door to my room opens again.

I force myself out of the comfortable, wet darkness I was hiding in and look up at my latest visitor.

It's Bane.

Moving as fast as I can, I wipe away my tears, grab the TV remote, and shut off the television. The last thing I want Bane to see is those photos. It's like a slap in the face to him. He warned me about that silly dress and thanks to it, half of my "goods" were on display for the whole world to see.

After swiping away the last of my tears with my sheets and putting on a forced grin, I say, "Hi, Bane."

I wanted my voice to sound chipper but I sound sort of like a toad on the verge of belting out its very last croak. I grab at my throat, embarrassed. I see Bane's eyes crinkle at the embarrassed look on my face. Seeing his amused smile, I can't help but to smile back.

Bane enters my room and pulls up a chair beside my bed. I expect him to start talking, but he doesn't. Instead, he just stares at me, which is a thousand times worse than him berating me. I expected him to come in here with a vengeance, listing out everything I did wrong last night. This silence and this staring, it's worse. Much, much worse. I find myself avoiding his steely glare at all costs, as though one look at him will cause my head to melt off.

Finally, I can't take it anymore. "Okay, okay!" I growl. I fold my arms and sit back in the bed, still refusing to look him in the eye. "I know what you want to say but apparently, your mask has decided to malfunction. I made a total mess of last night, alright? I was stupid, I shouldn't have fallen for Kole and his stupid good look and pretty eyes! I should have been more careful…. I should have known better, I should have-!"

"How are you feeling?" Bane carefully cuts into my rant with a single, solitary statement. I hadn't noticed it before, but somehow, during my speech, Bane moved his hand to my forehead and let it rest there.

I immediately feel my face grow warm. Well, if he was checking for a fever or something, he might think I have one now.

I squirm beneath his hand a bit and cough. "I'm fine," I mumble. Bane lifts a brow, apparently, not believing me. I cough again and then sigh. "My head feels like it's going to split open and maybe my throat hurts, just a little. It feels kind of raw."

Bane moves his hand away from my forehead, taking its heat with it. He goes over to the sink, where he fills a small, plastic cup with cold water from the tap and then returns to his seat. He holds the cup out to me. Feeling shy after my outburst, I take the cup from his hand and swallow down a few sips. The cold water instantly soothes my aching throat, like ice to a burn.

I set the cup down on my table and fiddle with my hair, still unable to meet his eyes. "Thank you," I say, my voice coming out much clearer this time.

I can feel Bane watching me. This is proved when he asks, in a voice that seems to crawl through the air, "Why are you averting your eyes from me?"

"I'm not…!" I protest. I force myself to look at him and bite down hard on the inside of my lower lip so that I stay focused.

But when I look into his eyes, all I imagine is how disappointed and disgusted he must be of me after what he witnessed at the club.

I drop my eyes again and shrug. "I'm just…tired."

"Then you should rest for now. The police have informed me that you will be released from the hospital as soon as they have spoken with you, which won't be for a few more hours."

Bane stands up and begins to head for the door. I start to panic as he gets closer to leaving the door. I don't want to leave things like this, especially…especially if this is going to be the last time I see him.

"Thank you!" I cry.

Bane stops in his tracks and slowly turns to face me. His dark eyes flash.

"Why are you thanking me?" he questions. He ventures closer to the bed when I fidget instead of immediately answering him.

I play more furiously with my tangled hair. "Thank you for coming in there and rescuing me last night," I murmur. "You and Tippy saved me from something that could have gotten really, really bad." I frown at the memory of the men rubbing their disgusting hands over my thighs. I shake away the memory and try to focus on the present. "You're always saving me, even when I'm the idiot who caused the problem," I continue with a small laugh. "I've never had someone like you in my life before and I…. Well, I'm grateful. I wish I could pay you back for everything that you've done for me."

Bane looks thoughtful at my words. He takes a seat again, using his knees as balancing boards for his big arms.

"Your presence and well-being," he breathes, "is thanks enough, young Rose."

I finally look him in the eyes and smile. "You're so sweet, sometimes," I tease. "I sometimes doubt that you've never had a girlfriend."

I reach over and take one of his huge hands in both of my small ones. I rest my cheek against his hand, close my eyes, and exhale. Bane tenses a bit, maybe surprised by my actions, but he doesn't pull away. I just want to treasure his presence and well-being right now, just for a little bit.

"You know, you never gave me a chance all of those weeks ago to tell you my real name," I say to my best friend.

Bane remains silent, waiting for me to proceed.

"It's Valencia Gale Paisley."

"A beautiful name," comes Bane's soft reply.

I smile at his words. "Thanks. But keep calling me Rose, okay? I like it."

After a few moments pass, I snap out of the comfortable spell we seemed to have fallen under. I sit up with a gasp and yank Bane's hand towards my collarbone.

"Oh!" I cry. "What did the police say? You're not going to get into any trouble, are you? It was all my fault, you were just protecting me!"

"Calm yourself," Bane orders. I take a deep breath and lower Bane's hand to my lap with a nod of my head, steeling myself in anticipation of his answer. Bane eyes his hand's position for a moment and then raises his gaze to me again. "They're going to overlook the situation for now."

My chest nearly explodes with relief as I allow air to start flowing through my lungs again. "Blake?" I ask.

Bane nods.

Thank the Lord above for Detective Blake. I don't know how he does it, but he's always able to get Bane and I out of sticky situations. Situations that might not have happened if I weren't involved.

Another pang of guilt rocks me. I lower my head and make myself smile.

"He's a good guy," I mutter. What if I got him fired? It's becoming clearer by the second that I need to extract myself from Bane's life.

Bane nods. "A good man, yes, but there's only so much one good man can do. They're going to continue their investigation of last night's events. His fellow policeman are determined to see me locked away due to the belief that you are unable to 'keep an eye on me'."

Here comes more of that lovely guilt.

"How shallow can those cops get?" I cry, feeling myself grow angry. "Anyone there can attest to the fact that those guys meant me harm. If you and Tippy wouldn't have showed up when you did, I might have been…!"

I feel Bane's hand tighten around mine. He knows exactly what I wanted to say but couldn't bring myself to say it because of how close it came to happening. If anyone there had a shred of humanity in their hearts, they would come forward and tell the cops exactly what happened and clear Bane's name.

Seething, I turn to face Bane. "Can you send Blake in here? I need to talk to him."

Bane nods and climbs to his feet again. Once more, he begins to head for the door, and once more, I feel as though I don't want him to leave. He can't leave yet, not until I've gotten the chance to say goodbye.

Shakily, I move my legs off of the side of the bed and stand to my feet. Dizziness hits me and hits me hard. I have to grab on to my bed to keep from tipping over. But, once I regain my composure, I start to wobble after Bane, taking my IV bag with me.

"Bane, wait…" I cry hoarsely.

Bane turns around to face me and I immediately dive into his arms. I wrap my arms around his back and pull myself as close as I can get to him. As usual, Bane hesitates when returning the hug and only uses one of his arms, but that's more than enough for me.

I don't say anything as we hug; I listen to his heart beating next to my ear and cherish the warmth and safety I feel in his arms.

I'm going to miss this. I'm going to miss him. But it's what's best.

Bane stays silent as our hug lingers on, his hand pressed lightly against the small of my back. He ends up being the one to pull away first.

Quickly, I try to dip my head away but Bane catches my chin and forces me to look at him.

"Why are you crying, Rose?" he wishes to know.

I blink away my tears and try to smile. "I'm just… just really happy you're okay!"

Bane doesn't buy it. His eyes scour over my face, searching for the truth behind my tears. Becoming exasperated, I pull away.

"I'm fine, Bane!" I assure him. "See this big, happy smile? I'm fine!"

Bane still doesn't look as though he believes me but he doesn't push it any further. Instead, he nods at me and breezes out of the room. I stare at the door for a long time after he leaves, indecisiveness battling away in my brain.

By the time Blake bursts into my room, full of questions regarding my health and last night, my mind is made up. I've decided.

"Detective Blake," I say, interrupting him mid-question.

The detective stops talking. For the first time since he's entered the room, he's noticed my tears.

"Rose, what's wrong?" he asks, alarmed.

I smile as the tears begin to roll down my face, one after the other.

"I don't want to be in charge of Bane any longer."

Cerulean: O...M...GEE.

Guys, this story has a mind of its own, lol! I have started rewriting chapters like crazy and changing the plot around a bunch (this is in future chapters)! I'm very excited with where this story is going! I know there wasn't a lot of action going on in this chapter but I hope you enjoyed a little, teensy bit of Banose! Balencia? (coupling name?) and the Joker!

To those who reviewed the last chapter...

harleyquinn87: Thank you so much for all of the sweet reviews! You're too kind :D

WWEKanesNumberOneFan: Kole's a loser and a jerk. Unfortunately, this won't be the last we see of him! He plays a role a little further down the story too :o Yup, Rose is learning a lot from her time as Bane's caretaker! She's got a ways to go though lol

RJ: *sets up Kole punching bag* Feel free, lol! Sorry it took me a bit to update but I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter! :DD

Dem0nLight: Whaaaat, I didn't know about that! *heads to Google in a hurry* And I love the Scarecrow! That's so sad! Yup yup, lots of trouble on the horizon for these two!

LoveBane: Lol! Yes, he was too good to be true, sadly D: It's good to have a cell phone with a bestie on the other side in situations like those! And yayyy! Hope you liked reading about our favorite clown-faced villain! :)

Next time, we have a lonely Rose, a startling realization, and a brutal kidnapping! (and it's not Rose in trouble this time, whaaaa?) It's Rose to the rescue in the next chapter and someone finally, finally starts to admit their feelings! See you next time! :) *blows kisses to readers!*