John and Alfred offered to host me as I recovered from my ordeal, and I was very appreciative of that. As the days went on, I adjusted to life inside Wayne Manor and my shoulder was healing quite well despite the trauma of being swept shot at and swept through the ocean.

I was finally able to process everything that happened over the past week: the Joker's memories, my friend's betrayal, the confirmation I was being hunted down… and my mother's voice.

It didn't take me long to piece together that my gift was coming back. For a while, I had managed to subdue the strange energy that pulsed through my body whenever I had contact with others. But it had returned… stronger than ever.

The next few days I spent much of my time exploring the grounds. The manor could feel dark and secluded despite the resident students and staff. But I hadn't felt this comfortable in quite some time.

John and Alfred were in and out of the manor most days. John had been working closely with Lucious Fox, a genius of a man working on technological advancements for Gotham's security systems. Ever since learning that John was an ex cop, I figured most of his business recently was about safety measures pertaining to the Joker's return.

As for Alfred, he was usually on errands or playing golf. For someone in his eighties, he was impressively active.

John had inquired early on about my family, but I decided it wasn't necessary to tell him the details. Most of the memories were horrible. I'd worked so hard to repress them.

What took up most of my time was thinking about my encounter with the Joker. Why was he helping me? The flashback of his childhood was not what I had expected it to be. We were shockingly similar as neither of us had many friends… we didn't want or need them… they wouldn't understand us.

We had both felt removed, different.. For one reason or another. His mother was kind, and like mine, his only tie to a normal upbringing. A part of me wanted to trust him, but then there were the images of the bloodbath. Our true difference was that we had very different ways of dealing with family stress.

On one particular night, I heard a knock at my bedroom door. I was laying in bed listening to rumbles of thunder as a predicted nor'easter rolled in from the west. Opening the door, there stood John, handsome as ever, with a beer in each hand. He was smiling devilishly. Immediately flustered, all I could do was let out a bewildered laugh.

"May I come in?" He asked politely.

"Oh uh… of course" I mumbled, opening the door as he walked in. "This is your house," I added.

"Well, technically it's Bruce Wayne's house. But you're welcome to live here with Alfred and I as long as you want to. It's not like we're short on space..." He handed me a beer and sat on the couch near one painting I was fussing over.

"Anyways, I wanted to toast to your speedy recovery. I'm sure it's been a tough few days for you…" He said, cracking his beer. He held it up in a gesture of cheers. I cracked mine and we both took a sip after clanking cans.

"Not at all", I responded, sitting on the couch next to him, "you saved my life and offered me a place to stay in this beautiful mansion... I haven't felt this comfortable in a long time."

For a moment we were silent, watching the lightning flash. He looked at my unfinished painting.

"Abstract?" He asked.

"Yes… very" I said, laughing.

This particular series was darker than the rest. I could tell my paintings were taking on my inner turmoil. Each day the burden of keeping secrets from John felt heavier and heavier. We lingered on the painting for a few moments.

"Listen.." he said, breaking the silence, "I also wanted to tell you something". He said, leaning over to place his elbows on his thighs, the beer hanging in between his legs. I could see his biceps through his light blue button down.

"You don't have to run from your past, Lucy." He said, turning his head to meet mine. The comment was straightforward.

"What else is there for me to do? It's not like I can take the mob on all by myself." I said, leaning back.

"No, you can't do it by yourself, this is true." he said. "When I joined the police force, I wanted to tackle it all on my own. I had this intuition that pushed me to want to do more than police the streets. Everyone seemed to lag behind my instincts… and then I met Batman" he said, taking another sip of his beer.

"You met him?" I questioned excitedly. He grinned and nodded.

"He taught me that it takes teamwork. It always seemed like he was working alone... but he wasn't. The city helped him. He was never truly alone. He taught me we can find strength in each other… the strength to make real changes happen."

"Sorry if I'm not following… but what does this have to do with me?"

"Well, here's my proposal. If you decide to stay in Gotham… decide to stay here… I think we could make a good team. I could help you."

I sat motionless for a few seconds, thunder rumbling in the distance.

"You're asking me to stay here so you can help me to take down the mob? Are you feeling ok?" I said. But John wasn't smiling. He was serious about this. "Why?"

"If you keep running, you'll never know what it feels like to be free of fear. It's a horrible way to live. Why let something control you when you have the chance to put these men behind bars?" John asked, putting his hand on mine.

The touch of his skin sent those electric pulses through my body instantly. Not again, I thought. Not now. First the Joker, now John.

A flash of his memories went through my body. Now it all made sense.

In that brief second, I knew everything.

"Hey, listen." He said, noticing my change in demeanor, taking his hand off mine, "just think about it. It's just an offer. I have some good combat training under my belt, and I know it would help you feel less vulnerable. Especially if you decide not to stick around…"

Sensing the blood draining from my body, I nodded, forcing myself to smile.

"I'll think about it" I said finally. After a few more quiet moments of listening to the rain pelt against the large window panes that led out to the manor's gardens, I finished my beer as he finished his.

"Well, I'll leave you to it" he said, motioning to my unfinished painting. "I have a few more things to do tonight before I hit the sack."

He held out a hand for my beer, and I gave him the empty can.

"Oh, and one more thing," he said, on his way to the door, "How do you feel about motorcycles?" I laughed at the change of subject.

"It's been awhile."

"Well, if you want. We could go for a ride sometime. You've been here for a week and I'm sure you're feeling pretty cooped up." My heart pounded at the thought of holding onto him. Those muscular arms.

"Yeah… that- that would be nice." I managed to choke out the words. I really hoped I wasn't acting like a total idiot. He smiled and nodded.

"Great, maybe tomorrow night?"

I nodded, "sure… yes. That sounds great. I'll be free… obviously." I could have screamed, why was I so awkward?

"Sounds good," he said smiling, "have a good night, Lucy."

As soon as the door clicked shut and I heard his steps disappear down the hallway, I collapsed on the floor.

"Holy shit." I whispered, gripping the fabric of one of the cushions. I tried to place my excitement: whether I was more shocked about our bike ride date or the fact that I had just learned through telepathy that this was Batman's house… John was Batman's protege. This explains why he was talking about Batman. He's preparing to be Gotham's next vigilante.

"Fuuuuck" I breathed, pressing my palms against my eyes.

As the storm rolled by, I knew I wasn't going to be able to leave this city anytime soon.

After John had left, I sat on the floor for what seemed like hours. That beer had not helped calm my changed everything. Everything.

As I watched the windows rattle and the lightning flash, I realized my legs were falling asleep. I decided I needed to force myself to shower and get some sleep.

I spent a good amount of time imagining the warm water melting everything away, encompassing me in protection. Once I began yawning I knew I had an opportunity to unwind and drift off to sleep for a few hours. I threw on the red silk pajamas Alfred had provided me upon my arrival. I was grateful for them. Walking over to my bed, I shut off the lights and started to pull down my sheets, eyelids heavy with sleep. But a voice startled me.

"Lucky, little… Lucyyy."

I stared wide-eyed into the void. As my eyes adjusted, I spotted the Joker emerging from behind the balcony curtains.

"You survive death and end up here? I'm impressed" he said, walking towards the bed. I inched backwards instinctively.

"How did you get in?" I whispered, astonished.

"A magician never reveals his tricks" he said, sitting down on the bed, and patting the space next to him, "it takes the fun out of things."

I said nothing and hesitantly pulled myself next to him. What other choice did I have? If I ran towards the door, I knew he would be fast behind me. I'd prefer a conversation to another fistfight…. Or a bullet wound.

I was silent as I watched him. He was the same as I remembered. Disheveled hair, that distinctive smell I could only attribute to gasoline and gunpowder.

"You should have stayed in the van," he sang.

"It wasn't safe-"

"You're the safest with me" he growled, sucking on his scar. I could tell it was a recurring tick.

"Why are you helping me?"

"Full of questions, Luce," he said, putting his hands on his knees. "You know, you and I are very similar" he said softly, eying me in the darkness.

It was a strangely intimate moment. I wasn't sure if he was truly sensitive to my past or feigning empathy. How much did he know about me, anyways? Either way, I knew it to be somewhat true.

"I'm shocked you haven't killed me yet."

"Kill you?" he said, stifling a laugh. I felt goosebumps raise on my skin as he brushed my hair back behind my ear. It was such a soft gesture that caught me off guard. "Why would I want to kill you?"

I gulped as he released my face from his grip. Thankfully he was wearing his usual leather gloves. No need for another visit from my telepathy tonight.

"Listen" he said, turning me towards him on the bed, licking his lower lip. His grip was just as strong as I had remembered it. "I want you to know, I have no ill intentions with you. In fact, I swung by especially for you… to clear the air! So…. no hard feelings between us, yeah? I'm sorry I blew yer "friends" brains out… oh, and the other one… it was just as messy of a job…"

I didn't have it in me to respond. I was busy trying to process everything else that was happening. Thankfully he wasn't able to read much of my facial expressions or body language. So he continued.

"Anyways… After pulling a few strings, I know about your little trick. So, just so you know I'm tellin' the truth, I'll let you have another go at me…" he said, readjusting himself on the bed to take off one of his gloves. "If ya really don't trust me yet, just come here and hold my hand…"

I thought about it for a while. If I did, perhaps I could glimpse more of his past… But his memories came at a price. They left me with a lingering obsession to know more. I had to be careful.

On the other hand, I wanted to believe he truly did want to help. I couldn't help feeling a connection with him now.

After a few moments I lowered his hand without touching his skin.

"No… I believe you."

"That's my girl," he said, putting an arm around my shoulder.

I flinched, as his arm wrapped around where the bullet had pierced my skin. He stood abruptly, brushing off his pants and adjusting his suit. Taking a look around the room, he spun back to me as he made his way to the window.

"Well, my dear, I'm glad we're seeing eye to eye about things."

The storm was stronger than ever, but there he stood, entirely unaffected.

"I'll be seeing you, Luce. Reeeeeal soon. I've got plans… and you're going to love emmmm'."

As the thicket of the storm rolled in and another burst of lightning filled the sky, he was gone. The following rumble of thunder would have made me jump if I wasn't already beside myself.

This was going to be another sleepless night.