A/N: Thank you for the reviews, I've been really lucky to get such lovely reviews. And lastly, no excuse for how late this is. Read and review. Jaz

Disclaimer: DC characters and such, is owned by DC, original plot and OCs are mine.

Batman had been right. Shirley felt so haggard and drained from the police's questioning she barely got through work. The following morning after being kidnapped by the Joker, she woke up in the arms of Lewis. For a brief moment, as the haziness of a deep sleep ebbed away, Shirley felt some peace. As the realization dawned on her, she felt trapped within Lewis's arms. They were almost suffocating. And with that thought, Shirley went in to a fit. It wasn't until she was on the floor, into a corner, that she started to break down in to fits of tears. Within seconds, he was in front of her, trying to counsel her.

"Shirley, baby, please," he begged, his voice hinting that he was also near tears. Raising her head from her arms, she saw Lewis's red eyes. They held a teary gaze for a moment before Lewis pulled her in to his arms once again. She wished and pleaded with herself that his embrace would bring her contentment. It did not.

Despite her state, she wished to go back to work. Lewis wouldn't hear of it. He did not let her return for a week.

Shirley was lost within her fear of being taken again, mixed with the thoughts of her father and Warren. She was wrought with confusing feelings. Guilt. Apprehension. The twisting mess of her thoughts and feelings made her feel sick. Whilst the police had been all over her, by some lucky turn of fate, the media were lost to her identity. Oh they talked about the kidnapping however. It was a mystery, one that Shirley was thankful for.

After that one week, she couldn't stand being at home anymore. Lewis didn't want her anywhere near Arkham.

"I can't beli- I can't comprehend that you would willingly put yourself back there!" Lewis stated throwing his arms up to emphasize the point. After Shirley had found some of her normal composure once again, the insatiable drive for her to return to work also returned.

"Despite what you may think Lewis, I need to work. Money isn't something I have landing in my lap," she clipped in reply, merely making Lewis shake his head further in confusion. Easing herself down on to the couch, she tried to get comfortable. Her back was beginning to ache constantly.

"Get another job, you have the qualifications." Shirley resisted a chuckle. Even though she was angry and upset, just like Lewis, laughing at him would be too cruel.

"Specialized in criminology," she replied, trying to calm her tone. Breathing in, she found her chest resisted growing in full expansion to take a deep breath.

"A clinic would be an improvement, you could be closer, the stress-" He suggested. His tone indicated that he too, was tiring of this argument. Walking around the couch, he sat down next to her but made no move to touch her.

"A clinic? A clinic, Lewis?" Turning to him, looking at him sternly he knew that once again, he had lost. Her pride would not allow her to work below her current profession. He let out a breath that he was unaware that he had been holding.

"I want the best for you, Shirley. I want you to succeed. I want you to achieve your dreams. But not at the cost of your health." His defeated tone made Shirley feel waves of guilt. Everything was so infuriatingly complicated. And messy. With great hesitancy, she grasped his hand.

"It won't happen again," she reassured Lewis, trailing her thumb along his hand. Silence followed for a time. Shirley didn't know whether Lewis was appeased with her words or not. Anxiousness grew. Since she had taken Lewis's hand, he had not recoiled. Neither had he returned any grip.

"But it might, you cannot deny that." His voice suddenly broke the silence. Shirley had never heard him so intently serious before. The finality in his voice left her flustered.

"I -" With a quick motion, he dropped her hand and was in front of her. Looking up at him, she felt her heart ache at the sight of his tears.

"I love you, Shirley. I think you forget this. And your selfish actions affect more then just yourself!"

Commencing her work at Arkham again brought an uneasy comfort to her. If it was the only comfort she was going to get, then was going to take it. So on a Friday evening, at her desk, Shirley asked herself a question that lately, had been swimming in her mind. Bringing it to words was something she didn't want to do however. It made her want to slap herself, make her laugh – make her cry at the blunt reality.

Was it worth it?

Her work was so consuming. This goal, that felt so high, so above her, was constantly slamming her down. And it wasn't just time that was being eaten away at. Lewis's words kept flashing through her mind. The moment these thoughts eroded in to her, the harsher they got, she would immerse herself even further in her work, drowning them out. When she regained some balance again, she would chide herself with a forced chuckle. And when she recovered, there was another motivation that made itself known, every time she looked up.

Dr. Young had taken the liberty of taking Shirley's interview sessions with Warren whilst she was away. Also in to her first week back. Though she was still at work, Arkham had declared that she only take sessions with the low level patients. There was no other way around it. Shirley was furious! It was a good thing that she had the morning off to read up on all of Young's notes. It perplexed Shirley, her raging anger. Of course there was the factor that Warren was her prized patient, the one that she spent so many extra hours on. But there was something else. Jealousy.

Knock-knock.

Raising her head up, she saw the door peak open and Warren slithered in to the room smoothly. Quietly the door shut behind him, the person shutting it ever so making their presence known outside the door. When Warren's brown eyes to snapped to her stare, the whole air in the room changed. Remaining at her desk, she watched him as he leisurely made his way over to her. There was something especially demanding about the intensity of the gaze. Shirley was almost afraid to drop her eyes. Lost in the trance, she didn't realize how close Warren had gotten. The desk served as a reminder, pulling her out of his hold. She expected him to smirk, chuckle or even just make a comment.

He didn't.

Even with his somewhat variable personality, Shirley felt a new wave of confusion as Warren continued his strong glare and unmoving stance. Maybe it was just her. It wasn't like she hadn't been going through some heavy circumstances of late – right? Assurances like that didn't still Shirley's calculating mind though. Whilst Shirley tried to come up with something, anything to do next, Warren made the decision for her.

"Back so soon?" His voice also seemed to lack it's charming undertones. The bluntness in his tone left her uncomfortably perplexed. Shirley took this moment to break away from his eyes, down to her desk. It must have looked like an act of submission, because that's what it felt like. How could she push herself through an interview, making up things as she went along if she couldn't manage her own life? The bitterness she felt seep from her chest on to the tip of tongue at the thought of Dr. Young being more organized – making progress kept her alert however. "Darling?"

Flashing her eyes to his, she felt some shame in her next action. She looked for warmth. Sincerity. Warmth was not something she expected to find, and she didn't, there was some sincerity however.

"You must feel drained, my golden girl, why not relocate to your chair?" The offer was somehow enticing. Warren made sitting down in a chair sound like getting lost in the great comforts cushions of silk could provide – something that the armchair couldn't. Maybe it was because she really did feel drained, maybe it was because of Warren's alluring words. These thoughts all paled when Shirley raised her eyes to his again, to see them once again ablaze with his charm again.

Seated next to Warren on the couch, rather then just the armchair, the tenseness in her muscles didn't dissipate. Warren however seemed to be at complete ease. Arms raised behind his head, his head resting on his arms and his legs lazily stretched out. Tightness spread from her neck slowly down to her chest and the next thing she knew, her breaths were short and unfulfilling.

"Hey, hey doll, be calm," Warren said, trying to sooth Shirley's short breaths. Why was this happening? Shirley's head was buzzing, on top of her heart. Suddenly Warren grabbed her, making her cry out. Warren shushed her slowly and ran his right disfigured hand down her cheek. The pressure and stress of the current situation was licking dangerously at her already breaking composure.

"Can we please just stop?" She gasped, after taking in another short breath. His hand paused momentarily however Shirley wasn't at ease yet. His hand returned to trace her face with a light touch. It reminded Shirley of when she had woken up as a child at a school camp, with a large, hairy, black spider crawling down her face. She shuddered at the memory and it's likeness to Warren's touch. He grasped her chin weakly, trying to turn her head. Shirley couldn't let her resolve dissolve that much.

"Resistance? Now out of all things I expect from you, that has not been one for quite some time, darling," he chuckled and let his hand drop from her chin to rest on her thigh. Nervously, Shirley's eyes flashed around the room. With a hot flash though, Shirley eyes stopped moving around. Warren's hand crept up her thigh. Amongst her panicked thoughts, she blessed herself for wearing pants. However, Shirley would not succumb to this kind of abuse…embarrassment. It was degrading. With a large swing, she found herself with her hand burning after a loud slap. Warren's head was turned to the side and he seemed to let it remain so. Shirley scrambled out of his lap and crawled pathetically across the floor to the door. Turning back around as quickly as her body would let her, she pushed herself hardly against the wall near the door. Warren was looking at her with smirk and a growing red mark on the left side of his face. Seeing warmth in his skin was not something she was accustomed to. It made him strangely human.

As she looked at her patient, this man who was her key to everything she had ever dreamed of, aspired to achieving. There he sat though, lounging on the armchair, proudly wearing her slap with his sinister smile. Where had it gone wrong? When had this – this all happened? With a smooth stride that harshly contrasted his deformed appearance, Warren made his way over to her. Her heart hammered so strongly, she was sure Warren could hear it. If he did hear it, it didn't seem to affect him. Slowly, he stopped in front of her and pulled up her chin. Shivering, he urged her to stand silently. It didn't matter if she wanted to fight him. His presence was seductively commanding. It was how she found herself rising before the gravity of the statement had been processed. Now at her full height, her eyes dropped to their feet.

"My darling, darling golden girl." His voice slithered around her. She just wanted to cry. For the first time in over a decade, she wanted her mother to hold her. Seven. That's how old she had been. Not being fond of dogs – or really any pets, Shirley had never felt a desire to have a pet. As her mother came to notice, her daughter had isolated herself in school. Worried for her well-being, Shirley's mother had bought a kitten. It had been white with a mixed brown coat on it's back. Being in charge of such a small life, that could fit in to her hands had scared Shirley. So eventually, her mother had ended up being the caretaker. Shirley did come to hold affection for the little being though. When shielded away from the eyes of her father and especially her father, she would pet and play with the kitten, now cat. Then, it had all happened so quickly for her, the cat had gotten sick and passed. Shirley had tried to ward of the tears but failed, her face splotchy, flushed and teary. Her mother had held her for so long, time had become a lost concept to her. That's what Shirley wanted right now, to be held.

"Tears?" A cold finger graced her face, making her refocus again. It was not wise to loose focus like that; she scolded herself the lapse in her attention. Warren's two hands held her face, forcing her to look in to his eyes. His eyes held her there, locked in to place. She couldn't be sure what she saw in his eyes. That was something she was coming to realize. He was a master at keeping his true feelings hidden. Shirley would see what Warren wanted her to see. And right now, she couldn't even guess what he wanted her to see. Maybe he wanted to confuse her.

Leaning down with care, he rested his forehead against hers, still holding her face. However, she noted his eyes were shut. Something that was uncharacteristic of his behavior. His eyes were part of his personality, how he used them and what he chose to reveal with them.

"You never speak to me anymore," he whispered. His tone revealed vulnerability, she couldn't be sure of him though. There was nothing about him that she could be sure with. Letting her eyes trace the form of his face, she attempted to grasp on to anything to reveal something to what he was feeling or thinking. Like a flash, his eyes opened, demanding her once again to look. This time, she could determine his gaze. It was dark and possessive. He wasn't hiding anything. Everything he was feeling at the precise moment was swirling in his eyes. It was terrifying. No one had ever looked at her with such a gaze before. It was everything unspoken about the gaze that terrified her. He didn't need to say a thing to have falling whim to him. "Say my name."

"What?" Her fear had such a hold of her now, it's tendrils wrapped around her muscles in her body, making her tremble. And this fear reveled under Warren's attention.

"Shirley, now is not time for stupidity."

"Warren White." She licked her lips anxiously, waiting for his reaction.

"Louder."

"Warren White." His head moved away from her forehead and moved so his mouth was touching her ear.

"Louder."

"Warren White!" A pressure grew swiftly in her chest and she new it was a new wave of tears. One that she knew she could not hold off for long. Shirley felt Warren's forehead return to her own and she trembled.

He was smiling. She could see it in the corners of his eyes when he took her gaze once again. Slowly, he shut his eyes and lent his face down further to give another of his 'kisses'. Shirley did not fight him as she felt the tingling sensation of his tongue down her neck. It was hard enough to keep her tears contained. To also be resistant would cause her to break. This was also what she repeated in her head, to keep her resolve strong of course. Stay strong and don't break. Don't break.

During the following day after Warren's interview, Shirley found herself in front of her computer. With no notes and a lack of any idea of what to write, a blank document mocked her. Looking away from the monitor, she peered at her office. Her desk, as usual, was in disarray and left her feeling uncomfortable at the reflection of it within herself. Absently, her hand found her mug but shuddered at the coolness of it. Another cup of coffee wasted.

Taking her mug and a clipboard, more out of habit, she started walking to the kitchen. Tired, Shirley did not notice someone walking in her direction that was also unaware to their surroundings. The grip on her mug was only strong enough to keep it within her hand and bumping in the other person caused it to fall from her fingers. It was the loud shatter of the mug that woke Shirley slightly.

"Dr. Gibbs!" Dr. Young. Of all the people, of anyone and everyone, Shirley would find herself with her? Etched on to her brow swiftly, Shirley looked up at Dr. Young with a deep scowl. Lifting herself back up to her full height with her clipboard in hand, Dr. Young recoiled from Shirley's intensity. "I am so sorry, so sorry – my mind was um, elsewhere. Elsewhere."

"It's alright Dr. Young, my mug hasn't seen much usage of late," Shirley explained flatly, pushing the largest piece of the mug around on the floor. Shirley took in Dr. Young appearance. Her bun was messy. For Dr. Young it was; the woman was immaculate. Her appearance was shabby, her coat stained with – Shirley preferred not to dwindle on that thought.

"Are you well Dr. Gibbs?"

"I am fine." Shirley cared not to ask Dr. Young. The woman had crossed the line. Interviewing her patient. Warren was far from needing constant therapy, especially when his personal doctor, Shirley, would not even be away two weeks. It infuriated Shirley. For the first time since the incident with Joker, Shirley felt a shred of her determination invigorate her. Even if she was still tired as hell.

"Good, good – Warren seems to be going," Dr. Young babbled, pausing at a choice for words, "-well." Shirley resisted the urge to say 'of course'. Her silence would be all Dr. Young would receive. Leaving the shattered mug at the disheveled doctor's shoes, Shirley made her way onwards to the kitchen. She was going to need that coffee.

With Shirley's mood somewhat improved, Lewis relished in it. Shirley, at the lounge with her laptop, was typing up reports. There was no time to dwell on the shallowness of them. The lines of truth of fabrication were merging together. Shirley was having trouble telling the difference. Before she could think more on it, Lewis slammed the door open.

"I can't believe it! Tomorrow night!" Lewis exasperated with energy, dropping his backpack with a thud on the floor. Making his way over to Shirley, he missed her blank look. Shirley raced through her mind, what was happening tomorrow night? Pushing her laptop out of the way, with some care of course, he pulled Shirley up. His mouth latched on to her's with a force that she couldn't help but smile from. His arms tightened around her waist and one of his hands latched in to her curls, guiding her head. Pushing him back, with a need for air, her smile remained.

"What?" Shirley questioned, her hands resting on his shoulders. Lewis hid the flash of hurt well. His lips returned to her face, leaving butterfly kisses along the left side of her face. "Lewis what is happening?"

Lewis did not want to seem to comply with a response, as he fell on to the couch with Shirley on his lap. His hand slithered down from her hair to the hem of her t-shirt as he kissed her neck with the same intensity as when he had kissed her. Anything she had been thinking about before was long gone from her mind, hidden within the haze of Lewis's affections. Her murmured something against her neck.

"Funding from the city." And then that, Shirley sighed. Neither of them was gifted with romance, but with a lingering smile, Lewis had almost fooled her tonight.

"Funding from the city for what?" Shirley asked, wanting him to continue. Softly pulling her down closer to him, she rested her head underneath his chin.

"You know that project I've been working on for a while with my mates from college?"

"Yes."

"Well, alongside other teams from our college and fellow colleges, we have the chance to win some funding. We are representing the Astronomy facility for Gotham City College!" The excitement in his voice so immense, she could feel it lending itself unto her. "You can come right?"

"To the presentation? When is it?" Unease settled in her chest. There was still a lot of work to catch up on. Even now, she should be back to those reports. One week away from work measured up in reading. And Dr. Young's reports needed another reading.

"It would start at five, I wouldn't be presenting with the team until six though." Cutting it fine. Shirley would rather work through to half past six, with no interruptions from her last interview for the day. What she could do was bring Dr. Young's paperwork in.

"Ten to six, I'll find my own seat." Lewis gently lifted her face so he could look at her. The sincerity and love in his gaze still made Shirley feel bad. She still had not told him she loved him. If she did, she wasn't sure. What she did know was that she did hold great feelings for him. Right now, with her father, work and Warren, she couldn't say those three words. Not in this state. When his lips met her's, for a small moment she was in blissful peace.

"Dr. Gibbs?" By this point in time, there weren't many people that talked to her directly in the cafeteria. Being in a rush this morning, Shirley hadn't gotten to eat breakfast, nor lunch. So now she was having the combination of a late lunch and early dinner. The kitchen only supplied basic refreshments, except if you had brought your own lunch along with you. Which left the cafeteria. It was Mr. Gallo. Rocco.

"Rocco?" In her most recent sessions with Warren, Rocco had been even more silent then before. Outside of those sessions, she hadn't seen him. Taking one of the unoccupied seats in front of her, he stretched his back and arms out.

"Mist is worse then usual today," he pondered, shutting his eyes. She knew he was nothing but alert. "Did you hear about Croc? In transit this evening."

"This evening?"

"Yep, Dr. Whistler had another session with him. I heard she was attempting a new approach," Rocco continued to explain, pulling his chair closer to the table but continuing to have a relaxed composure. Shirley wanted to take another bit of her pasta, however Rocco seemed to be waiting.

"Why are you here Mr. Gallo?" She asked, trying her best to sound disinterested. Taking another bite from her fork, she met Rocco's eyes.

"Shirley, would you let me accompany you to the Warden?" This was not the answer she had been expecting. Though she was not sure rightly what she had expected. Warren. No.

"What does he wish?" She continued to eat her meal. Her muffin would have to wait until later it seemed.

"Just a brief meeting."

"I am sure a phone call would have sufficed to tell me this information." To her knowledge, Rocco was not working within that facility. Perhaps that was why she had not seen him of late. Maybe he had been promoted? The thought that a new guard had taken up his position and not introduced himself – that she had not been informed did not sit well with her.

"Well, it may have, had you been in your office. The Warden did not want to make you feel uneasy by getting me to call different parts of the asylum," he replied rising from his seat. Yes, that would be embarrassing. With another bite from her late lunch, she stuffed the muffin in to her pocket and followed Rocco. Glancing at her watch, she saw it was already five. She needed to get back to her office and grab those notes before heading out for the day.

"Did the Warden say what he wanted?"

"No, just that he wanted to see you." Shirley couldn't keep up with Rocco's pace. It unnerved that her that he increased his pace so he was in front of her just a bit, enough to annoy her. Maybe Warden Sharp was unhappy with her work? Or perhaps he was worried about – recent events and it's impact on her thus the asylum. Which upset her more, she didn't know.

"So are we going to the Mansion? This is –" Abruptly, Rocco stopped. Taking a few steps away from her, he pulled out a phone. To her knowledge, guards were not allowed personal phones. The feeling of unease continued to grow. With Rocco giving her no clear reason why Warden Sharp wished to see her, her uncertainty lead away from herself to Rocco. He was withholding something.

"Miss. Gibbs," he drawled, his conversation on his phone now apparently over. Shirley stepped back. A new position, a phone on duty – something was amiss. She remembered her evening with Rocco and his friends. This only supported her uncertainties, turning in to fears. What was his purpose here? "Miss. Gibbs, that was the Warden."

"Why did he not wish to speak with me directly, it would save us both time." His lie was obvious and she knew that he knew he was not fooling her. Tension was cutting through the air between them.

"Because it was not about you – well not completely. There was been a fire, an explosion." She looked around, standing on the path between the Medical Facility – where her office was and the Penitentiary, she saw no damage. By this point in her life, she also knew that an explosion was…loud.

"Here at Arkham? I assure you, Mr. Gallo, an explosion is something that would not go unnoticed," she relied, her tone dripping with her displeasure of the situation. Still, she did want to hear what he had to say. Whether it truthful or not.

"No, no, not here. At Blackgate Penitentiary."

"How does this affect us?" This was not something she had ever thought about. Originally, she had been offered a position at Blackgate. The opportunity however, to work with patients here at Arkham was a much more desirable position for her.

"As of now, they are being moved here, to Arkham Aslyum for temporary holding," he replied, his charming tone now dissipated.

"Warden Sharp has other matters to attend to, I will take my leave." She had heard enough. What she needed to do right now was get back to her office, get her notes and leave. Being here when inmates of Blackgate arrived would only mean she wouldn't be allowed to leave until everything was secure. With the figures she had heard about the prison, Intensive Treatment will have a lot of processing to do. Turning her back on Rocco, she started to walk away. He did not let her get far, with his hand on her upper arm. His grip was not strong, not often to hold her. It was enough to affirm his position in the situation.

"Wait, Miss. Gibbs-" Rocco started, still keeping his indifference intact.

"Dr. Gibbs, Mr. Gallo," she correctly him, taking her arm from his hand and continuing on her way.

"Of course, doctor. There is one other thing I need to tell you." Shirley did not stop walking.

"If I leave now, I'm sure I can avoid lockdown," she pointed out. If he continued to talk, that might not be the case anymore. Tonight she could not disappoint Lewis.

"Gotham City Hall, there was an attack." This was enough to stop her. Before Rocco continued, she knew it was Joker. "Mayor held hostage by the Joker and some college students were hurt, there was apparently some function on."

"Yes? What else?" She snapped, turning around. Her fingers clenched her clipboard, nothing of importance attached to it. Rocco took his time to reply, making his over to her with a swagger.

"The Batman intercepted. He's on his way here now, with the Joker in tow." Rocco continued until he was inches away from her. Shirley could not deny that she felt his intimidation. This man was no Arkham guard. A man with no clear obligation to the law of Arkham Asylum was frightening.

"And the Warden told you all this?" Rocco was now the one that appeared to be anything but amused. Right before her, she saw a whole façade crumple away. She made a movement to run.

"Shirley, come with me."

"Mr. Gallo, I am returning to my office. I suggest you return to your post." It was lost. Shirley had no idea what Rocco, if that was even his name, wanted from her. She was just a doctor. Just a doctor.

"And I insist I accompany you." Shirley started to step backwards, stumbling a bit with her unsteady steps. Rocco only followed her, with grace.

"Mr. Gallo, return to your post!" She yelled, now starting to run. With her poor fitness and height, she did not get far. Rocco quickly wrapped his arms around her waist and shoulders. Why was no one noticing what was happening? Where the hell was security! She struggled, attempting to wiggle her way from his grasp. Rocco may not be Arkham security, but he strong and fit. His grip did not waver.

"Miss. Gibbs, I must inform you, I do not take orders from you," he stated in her ear, causing her to slacken with a creeping fear. He began to walk backwards, not caring if Shirley had a firm step. Suddenly, all that lit up their surroundings was the green mist. "But Miss. Gibbs, you will take orders from me."

Then the alarms started.