I sat up slowly, putting all my weight onto my uninjured arm. At first I thought I was in a hospital. However, as my eyes adjusted to the light, I was met by a dimly lit, disheveled bedroom. It was obvious where I was. The scent of floral air freshener was a sad attempt at covering up the smell of wet dog.

On cue, the bedroom door creaked open. A lump of green hair came into view, followed by eyes, then the rest of his body.

It was Garfield. The Beast Boy… the liar.

"Hey…" he said hesitantly. I glared at him.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't beat the shit out of you".

"I'm really sorry-"

"So when did you get the call from Bruce? Was it before or after I left Gotham?"

Garfield walked into the room shutting the door behind him. He was holding a plate with some kind of sandwich on it.

"Well, after… He personally asked me to look after you-"

" Look after me !?" I scoffed, "I can take care of myself!"

Garfield said nothing but cleared his throat, eyeing my bandaged and bloodied shoulder.

"Let me re-dress that," he said, trying to change the subject.

"I don't want any more of your help . I want you to take me back to my… to Bruce's apartment. You lied to me!"

He walked over with the sandwich.

"I understand you're mad. I totally get it and I promise I'll take you home… but please eat something first. You've lost a lot of blood… I'm sorry I lied to you, I was going to tell you… eventually…"

The events of the last few hours were coming back to me… the diary, the armed men, Garfield's transformation...

I took the sandwich from the plate, which turned out to be plain peanut butter and jelly, and managed a few bites. He sat beside me while I chewed, looking off into a pile of unfolded clothes.

"Your mom's diary is on the table next to you... I'll leave you be, after you eat," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic, like he had been forced into this, like this was against his sincere, caring nature. But, it didn't matter to me. I couldn't empathize with him, nor did I want to.

"...and I'm sorry… again", he continued, "I wish we could have met under better circumstances, I'd really like to be your f-"

"-Don't." I interjected.

He sighed and nodded. After I had finished the sandwich, he took the empty plate and left the room, glancing back as he closed the door gently.

. . . . . . . . . .

"Hello commissioner" The Joker's voice purred through the camera.

Only the lower part of his face was visible as he adjusted the shot, focusing in on a fresh coat of white and red paint that only enhanced his deformities.

When he was satisfied with the position of the camera, the Joker stepped backward to reveal the inside of a small van. Sitting next to him was his next unlucky victim: a sweaty, middle aged man dressed as Santa Claus. His mouth had been gagged over a fake white beard, the rest of his body bound in rope.

"I hope you enjoyed my latest exhibition outside of Gotham's Muni-ci-ple Courthouse… I always like to… recycle materials for my works of art. As they say, one man's trash is another man's treasure…"

The Joker licked his lips and grabbed onto the man's shoulders, keeping eye contact with the camera.

"Speak of the devil, I'd like to introduce you to my pal here."

The man blinked, his eyes expressing a terror that was discernible despite the gage wrapped tightly around his mouth.

"I'm not gunna kill him. No, not yet. That comes later…"

John's hands were clenched so hard he was beginning to lose feeling in them. All he could think of was bashing in every single part of that painted, deformed face.

"As we all know, the holidays are juuuust around the corner… " the Joker said, swaying the man from side to side to echo the melodic nature of his voice.

The grown man whimpered softly as the joker adjusted his red cap. He shushed the man, patting the side of his face.

"Now, I know that going down the chimney is the fat man's job… but it just so happens that he's a little tied up this year."

With that, the Joker shoved the man to the floor of the van, away from the view of the camera.

"So, how about we give Batman the job?"

Coming closely once again to the lens of the camera, the Joker held onto its frame, licking his scars.

"Don't let death fool you, Commissionerrrr. There truly is a ghost of Christmas past… and if he doesn't show his face on national television during Gotham's Christmas Day parade, people will die… Oh! And I wouldn't cancel the parade if I were you… unless you're a fan of my art…"

It was a frightening moment for both John and Jim Gordon. Without another word, the video ended.

Gordon rewound the video, pausing the frame on the hostage's desperate face.

"The last thing I want is another bloodbath," he said, hunching in the backseat of the van, hands clasped between his knees. John could tell that Gordon was at a loss for words.

"Batman is gone. We saw him detonate that bomb. I'm not sure what the Joker's getting at... It's just us this time around."

Perhaps Gordon hadn't seen the stealth helicopter flying over the Italian American club the night Bruce had saved him and Lucy… To Gotham, Batman was dead. Bruce was gone. But not to the Joker. The Joker knew too much. The Joker knew about Nightwing, Falcone's secret… perhaps even the identity of Batman. He could and would ruin everything if they didn't play his game.

John scratched the back of his head, thinking about his options. Bruce was adamant that he had retired Batman after that night.

"What about utilizing Nightwing?" John asked.

"Are you out of your mind, Blake? We don't need anymore civilians running around thinking they can be Batman. That's never gone over well."

John looked down at the floor, trying not to show his disappointment. It was going to take a lot for Nightwing to gain Gordon's trust.

"Well, what's our plan, then? Wait around for the Joker to make his next move?"

"I'll have the video analyzed. We'll know soon enough who his next victim is. In the meantime, we follow up on all leads, keep a strong police presence on the parade route…. We have two days to catch the Joker. I promised Barbara a vacation this year- this isn't going to be pretty."

John reached into his pocket as his cell phone began buzzing. Looking at the caller ID, he stood abruptly.

"I've got to take this call, Jim, I'm sorry, I'll be back soon. Keep me posted."

Gordon nodded absentmindedly, rewinding the footage to view the Joker's demands once more.

. . . . . . . .

I wanted to read the diary then and there, but I knew better. This was something that needed to be done in privacy, not in Beast Boy's messy bedroom.

I looked around for my phone, only to realize it was probably lying on the ground somewhere in that old post office. Damnit.

I ground my teeth together, deep in thought. I didn't want a constant protector. I could take care of myself. I went from being entirely on my own in September to feeling like a caged animal only a season later.

Pulling myself up and out of bed, Garth knocked once more at the door.

"Sorry to bother you, Lucy, I just-" Peeking his head in, his eyes widened. "Why are you standing?"

"Drive me back to my apartment".

"But you-"

"NOW."

He was clearly feeling torn about the entire situation, brow furrowed in thought.

"Don't you think you should rest up a bit?"

"You can't keep me here. A lot has happened today and I'd like to recover in my own space. Alone… with no man-birds looking into my bedroom at night."

"Again… I'm sorry Lucy-"

"I could have found that damn diary myself. And any chance at a so-called friendship was ruined the moment you invaded my privacy. Take me back. Now."

Garth opened his mouth but slowly shut it. Looking at my tiny form, he couldn't possibly see the resolve I had. But then again, being a supernatural being himself, maybe he could.

"Alright. But will you promise to call Bruce? He will explain everything."

I stared at him a good long while but finally nodded.

. . .

After a ten minute silent car ride back to my apartment, he slowly pulled up to the front of the building in his jeep. Thankfully my purse and keys were still in his car from before the post office incident. I grabbed my purse and placed my keys and mother's diary inside.

"Again.. I'm really sorry Lucy-"

I got out quickly.

"I'll call Bruce when I'm ready. I don't ever want to see your face again."

Not waiting for a response, I closed the door behind me, storming into my apartment building. I could still hear his car idling as I entered through automated glass doors.

I walked briskly into the lobby, making a b-line for the elevator. Despite wanting to avoid any unwanted attention, I was halted by the receptionist.

"Ms. Lucy?"

I cursed inwardly. It was one of the newer, younger hires who had taken the job a week or so ago. Whenever I heard her small voice, I felt as though she was on the verge of shattering into a million pieces.

"You um…. had a package delivered earlier from… a private postal carrier. I forgot what they said their name was… I'm, sorry…"

As I walked towards her, she handed me a red and green wrapped gift box with a yellow bow. No return address, just a tag with my name and address on it. Hesitantly taking it, I couldn't be sure what it was. It felt light for such a large box and rattled when I shook it.

"Early Christmas present?" she asked in an attempt to make conversation.

"Unlikely" I said curtly, but thanked her as I made my way to the elevator.

It was late enough that I took the elevator up without any company. I exhaled, glancing under the sweatshirt I had begrudgingly accepted from Garfield to hide my bloodied bandages. The pain was unbearable but comparable to the mental strain I'd taken on in the last 12 hours. I'd had no time to unpack the fact that I had found my mother's diary, been betrayed by the people closest to me, saw a grown man turn into a tiger, and gotten shot at…again.

Waiting to reach my floor I inspected the package. In comparison to my mother's diary, it held little interest for me. Probably an early Christmas gift from Bruce or John… or an immediate attempt at an apology.

As the elevator doors opened, I dragged myself down the hall towards my apartment. The first thing I did after plopping my things on the kitchen island was close and lock all the windows and doors. No more peeping man-birds.

After triple checking everything to ensure my privacy, I walked into the bathroom and turned on the bathtub. Stripping off my clothes, carefully avoiding contact with my gunshot wound, I waited for the tub to fill up with water. I inhaled in the steam as I sat on the edge of the porcelain tub, subduing the anger and frustration lingering within me.

Why was it that no one could trust me to take care of myself? Everyone had secrets to keep from me… did I seem that fragile? That unable to take care of myself? I had made it this far, hadn't I? My mother, John, Bruce… as much as I cared for them in one way or another, they had all found ways to hide truths and shelter me from the world, against my wishes.

There had only ever been one person who had never attempted to sugar coat things for me…

I deposited myself into the tub, making sure to keep my bandages above water. Breathe I thought, just breathe. Don't think about him.

I started to let the events of the day sink in as my body adjusted to the hot water. Who were those mercenaries who had followed us? What had my mother been so afraid of? What was she running from?

The fear I felt after touching her diary was indescribable. The emotions were so raw and immediate. And yet, the actual memories were still sealed within the pages of the diary. I wasn't sure whether or not I had the strength to handle it again, but I couldn't sleep until I read through each and every page.

After drying myself off and redressing the bullet hole, I threw on a t-shirt and some pajama pants and headed back to the kitchen island. As I flipped on the lights, I realized I had forgotten about the unmarked present sitting next to my purse. After a moment of indecision, I decided to quickly open the present to get it over with.

Ripping open the wrapping paper and removing the lid from a plain, cardboard box, I found yet another decoratively wrapped cardboard box.

My hands began to shake.

Neither Bruce nor John would do something like this , I thought. Hesitantly, I unwrapped it again. Another box .

My intuition told me to stop at this point…but I had already gone this far.

After unwrapping 3 more boxes, I was finally met with a paper bag. Inside was a singular gray nokia phone and a stack of 100 dollar bills. No note, no explanation.

I placed the wad of cash on the table and picked up the flip phone. Opening it, I found it to be fully charged with two notifications: one missed call… and one voicemail.

I took a deep breath as I scrolled down and clicked on the voicemail message. Slowly bringing the phone to my ear, I was met with that familiar growl.

"Helloooo Lucyyyyy..."

…

As Gar was driving back to his apt, he kept going over and over the whole scenario.

"Nice going Gar," he cursed under his breath.

Maybe he should have just followed her from a distance… let her find the diary on her own. From what Bruce had told him about Lucy, she would have found it on her own. Eventually. But ever since he saw her through her bedroom window, he couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted to protect her. He wanted to meet her. It had been a selfish move to walk up to her at the beach, and ultimately a futile one. What had gotten to him the most was how she had been able to just…read him. So easily. Not even Raven, his closest friend, had such a keen ability. Shaking his head again, he wondered if she'd even call Bruce...

Wait… shit.

He swerved towards the nearest exit on the highway, dodging a few angry drivers blaring their horns.

She didn't have her cellphone .

"FUCK" he yelled aloud, slamming his hands on the steering wheel. He had to go back.

. . . .

Hearing the Joker's voice come through the tiny nokia phone shot sparks of energy throughout my body. It was as if he was whispering directly into my ear. The boundary I had tried so desperately to create between him and I had dissipated in seconds. He was still very much a part of my life. No longer just haunting my dreams.

"Listen, doll -face, I'll cut to the chase." his voice sounded distracted, as if he was fidgeting with something. Sure enough there was a muffle thud on his end of the line.

I held the phone up to my ear, leaning against the kitchen island for support.

"Not that I need to spell it out for ya, but Cal-E-forniahh isn't where you belong. You're homesick Luce... I know you are… and you're hungry for an excuse to come back. Thankfully I am in need of favor from my favorite little bunny…Come see me Christmas Eve. You know where to find me."

With that, it went silent. I stared off into the distance, still clutching the phone to my ear.

Putting the emergency lights on, Gar ran through the automatic glass door of the front entrance of the complex. He was about to enter the elevators when the receptionist stopped him.

"E-Excuse me, sure! You need to check in!"

He grunted and dragged himself over to the front desk.

"Listen, my friend Lucy forgot her phone when I dropped her off like a half hour ago. I just want to return it to her."

"Oh…Unfortunately…. you just missed her."

"She…went out?"

The receptionist nodded, "Checked out. "

His stomach lurched. Oh no.

"Checked out as in… not coming back"

She nodded once again, her brows now furrowing in suspicion.

"Can I ask who you are?"

Lost in thought, Gar took a few steps away and started towards the door.

Uh… ok, thanks," he said, quickly walking back to his car.

Of course she was gone... Bruce was going to kill him.

Moving his car to the parking lot adjacent to the building, he decided that he'd search her flat before calling Bruce. Maybe she had left a note, a clue… anything.

Running around to the back of the building, he stripped behind a dumpster and morphed once more into a bird.

Flying upwards, the lights to the apartment were off, windows and doors shut, blinds and curtains down. Figures . Landing on the balcony, he morphed back to his human form and went to open the sliding doors. Locked… and this time he had nothing to pick it with.

Sighing, he inspected the door hinges. Unfortunately the only way in was with brute force. Shaking his head and praying to god there wasn't a security system, he morphed into a large gorilla. With one swift motion, he grabbed both sides of the sliding door and ripped it off its hinges, cracking the glass in the process. He winced inwardly, placing the door carefully against the side of the balcony. Stepping in, he morphed back into his human form once again.

The place looked like it had been abandoned quickly; bed unmade, clothes strewn about the room. Was she really in that much of a rush to leave? Walking around in the dark, he finally found a note on the kitchen counter.

Bruce,

Don't look for me.

-Lucy

He put the note down and looked around the apt. Where could she have gone?

In her private bathroom he found bloodied bandages discarded in the trash, along with lingering bubbles popping along the rim of the bathtub drain. He had literally just missed her.

Walking back into the bedroom to do one more sweep, he opened the drawer of her bedside table. Nothing. Closing it, he opened the second.

Bingo.

Inside was a single polaroid picture. Picking it up, he could make out the vague outline of a purple gloved hand holding a gemstone necklace. Turning it over, a horrible realization swept over him. He knew where she was going:

Miss you already. Come home soon. -J

The airport was packed with people making their way home for the holidays. The gaudy decorations strung around the airport were so outdated that they were practically back in style. The large dangling tinsel and shiny silver, red and green ornaments hanging throughout the terminals filled me with nostalgia for Gotham. Gaudy and outdated was the epitome of each of the cities' major holiday celebrations.

I had hurriedly packed up what I could fit into my backpack, making sure to keep the diary on top for the plane ride home. I was determined to read the whole thing within the 6 hours of flight time allotted to me.

This was an impulsive decision for sure. I caved into my weakness with a single request. No mention of my mother's necklace, nothing. Just the promise of a reunion.

I kept telling myself as I walked towards the front desk of the airline that I wanted to go back home anyways. It wasn't just for him. There was a small part of me that wanted to go back to Wayne Manor and warn John and Bruce about the potential danger I was about to put them in. That was the angel on my shoulder, my mother's ruminants within me.

Albeit I'm certain even the devil could have told me that nothing good would come from going back to Gotham for the Joker. Deep down I knew that despite the indescribable urge to see him again, it would most likely end in disaster.

I hoped that by the time I read through my Mother's diary, I would be able to make a more informed decision. Or change my mind altogether.

As I approached check-in, I imagined that most of the flights would be completely booked anyway. Small chance I could actually be home by tomorrow… by Christmas Eve.

The lady at the front desk seemed nice enough. A beautiful dark skinned attendant whose hair was slicked back in intricate braids.

"What can I do for you?" she asked with a polite smile.

"Hi, are there any flights to Gotham City tonight? One way."

She glanced down at her computer, clicking away, eyes moving left to right in rapid motion. I held my breath.

"Unfortunately… There are only first class seats on the 8:55 flight. It departs soon.. All other flights are all booked-"

"Great. That's perfect. How much?"

As she read me the price and I fished out the cash from my pocket. Eying me suspiciously, she took the money and counted it.

"I uh… have a lot of cash tips from my job."

Oh my god what was I saying.

She smirked, knowingly.

"We've all been there honey. You gotta do what you gotta do".

Oh my god she thinks I'm a … or even a….

"Have a nice holiday and enjoy your flight" she said, printing a ticket and handing it to me with a wink.

"Hah.. uh. Yeah, thanks… you too… thanks."

After an awkward stammer, I quickly took the ticket and made my way towards security, blushing furiously.

John was in the middle of briefing Bruce on the situation outside the courthouse when he heard the buzz of a cell phone come from the billionaire's pocket.

John eyed Bruce suspiciously as he took the call. Who else would have his private number besides Alfred an himself? To the rest of the world, he was a dead man.

"Yes?"

There was a long pause as Bruce rose from one of the many armchairs decorating the grand hall of Wayne Manor.

"I see. I'll take care of it. Thanks."

Bruce hung up the phone and after another brief moment of silence turned towards John.

"I haven't been completely honest with you."

John's eyes met Bruce's. After everything that had happened, why would Bruce still be hiding things? This was the second ping of disappointment John had felt that day.

After another long pause, it finally hit him. John stood abruptly, with a sudden awareness.

"What happened? Where's Lucy?"

I found my seat at the front of the plane. My own private space. Although it felt uncomfortable using the Joker's money to make the trip home, there was no way I wanted Bruce or John to track my every move. Of course, that's what the Joker wanted as well.

It was a sofa seat, entirely too luxurious, but perfect for the journey I was about to embark on: a six hour red-eye flight back to Gotham. Once on the ground, I would need to have a plan ready.

Opening up my backpack, I took out the cloth covered diary as passengers were being ushered in. The initial energy that surrounded the object had dissipated, and yet I was still hesitant to crack it open.

"Miss, would you like a refreshment?"

I jumped, not noticing a stewardess had peaked her head into my compartment.

"Oh, uh- no thank you. I'll be fine for awhile" I said, smiling meekly.

She smiled and nodded, ducking back out. After a brief announcement from the captain that we would be taking off shortly, I took a deep breath. Unwrapping the leather bound diary, I opened to the first page.