-From your POV-

It had been about a week since I taunted J with questions of his commitment. The topic hadn't been brought up since then. I kind of wanted to talk about it more, but considering that I could hear screams from the basement, I knew that now was not the time.

I rolled my eyes and slammed down my magazine in frustration as I realized reading- or at least trying to- was useless while J was having a play date with whatever poor soul was screaming their lungs out in the basement. I decided that I might as well be productive, so I went into the closet and threw on some jeans and a hoodie. I felt that as luxurious and fabulous as I was, I wanted to blend into the common folk of Gotham today. Once I was dressed, I trotted back out into the hallway, where I crossed paths with J who was wiping sweat off his forehead and pulling some rubber gloves off. "Doll! I want to show you a new toy the boys brought to me this week! It's used in electroshock therapy- well, right now it's used for torture- but it's so fun!" he squeals out like a small excited child. I smile at him.

"Sweets I would love nothing more than to watch you giggle like a little girl why you electrocute someone, but I have some business down in Gotham to run but as soon as I come back," I explain to him softly tapping the end of his nose (because doing small puppy things like that to a crime boss is fun for whatever reason). "I promise you can tell me all about it and I will gladly watch. Pray that I don't run into Batboy." I say grabbing my keys off the rack near the door. We exchange a few more words and then some goodbyes before I leave and he returned to his torture session.

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"Word on the street was that you rolled up in Arkham last week. The underworld has been buzzing about it; a lot of people thought you were either far from Gotham, not in business anymore, or dead." my father explained to me. My lips parted and the straw lightly slid out.

"Dead?? Do I seem like the person to not escape death time and time again?" I ask in confusion. He shrugs and takes a sip of his own drink.

"Zsazs' never die. I tell them this all the time." he retorts. We both lightly chuckle for a moment before he swirls his straw around and gets slightly more serious. "So, how's the clown doing?" he asks. I widen my eyes and raise my eyebrows as I let out a sigh.

"That's a loaded question. He's doing as well as I maniacal clown prince does." I answer.

"Is he your boyfriend yet or-" he starts but stops when I choke on my drink.

"Um- well, it's complicated. But let me tell you how awkward getting stuck in the same cell as his ex-girlfriend was."

"No way." his eyes widen in amusement. I nod my head.

"Oh yes way." I retort. I go through all the events leading up to me getting stuck in Gotham and he laughs at my recalling of how I literally had to bunk with the Harley Quinn, AKA J's ex, and he got a kick out of it. We finished our meal at the restaurant and left a tip for the waitress before getting straight up and walking out.

"Ma'am! Sir! You have to pay for your meal!" one of the workers called out as we were making our way for the door. We both giggled and turned around at the same time.

"No, we don't." we say in unison as we walk out.

We were taking a short cut through one alley when I felt a cold woosh past my shoulder. I stopped in my tracks and grabbed my dad's arm, stopping him too. "What? What is it?" he asks me. My eyebrows furrow as I look at a puddle on the ground for the reflection. In the blink of an eye, I spin around and pull a handgun from my waist band, holding it upwards at the top of the building as I see Batman standing on top of the building. I fire off a handful of shots, two of them nailing his shoulder, before he tackled me to the ground. The gun was knocked from my hand, causing a struggle to break out. My father wasted no time in taking the gun into his hands and cocking it. Before he could nail the Bat, he got off of me and began a fight with my father. I try to get to my feet, but I feel my eyelids get heavier and heavier and then blackness.

I woke up and felt cold metal around my ankles, restraining me. I groaned out in annoyance as I begin to recognize the smell and the feel of the infirmary bed below me. "Oh my Godddddd. Again??" I groan out.

"Yes, again." the voice of the same nurse from last time rings out. "You seem to like it here." she says as she comes over, recording something on a clipboard.

"Mhm the food is to die for." I say sarcastically as she checks my eyes with a light before quickly scribbling something on her clipboard.

"Hm. Well, something interesting has happened since the last time you were here." she says. I just close my eyes and wait for her to explain.

"Mhm, go on." I hum out.

"Well, every time a repeat offender is sent here, we do a CT scan to check on their brain activity. We have records of your last brain scan and of yours from today. Right now, you're suffering from a moderate concussion but over that, something has significantly changed the electrical signal and pressure of your brain." she says. I open my eyes widely at this explanation.

"So it's counteracting-" before I can even finish my question, she answers.

"Yes. Meaning it's not permanent and depending on how your head heels, you might be able to live out a somewhat normal life and be declared sane." she says. My eyes widen as she nods. Before I had any more time for questions, some guards came in and wheeled me to a special solitaire cell that was dark so my brain could heel or whatever.

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Every day, nurses would come by with pain medicine and occasionally doctors would come in and check my eyes and other senses before recording them.

I had been there for just under a week when I heard the door clinking, signalling it was checkpoint time for a doctor or nurse. I rolled over in my bed so I could face them, even though my eyes were half open from fatigue. "I have no complaints so far." I mumble out lazily.

"Wouldn't think so, doll." my eyes snap wide open as I stare at the nurse who has stepped in. Speaking from personal experience, I have never seen a female nurse that's almost 6 feet tall and oddly muscular. I nearly throw up from laughing as I realize J has literally put on one of the female nurse uniforms and some weird ass auburn wig and a face mask. He tugs off the face mask and glares at me.

Around 5 minutes of cackling, he breaks it up. "You done yet?" he asks. I clutch at my abdomen and wipe my eyes.

"Oh I'll never be done." I say, pushing out another breathy laugh.

"I'll leave you here." he says back coldly. I barely manage to come to my feet, my knees still weak, and make my way over to where he's standing. I place my hand on his shoulder to stable myself while I finish cackling. I catch my breath and clear my eyes.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, let's go." I say.

"Yeah yeah yeah." he says, pulling the face mask back on and guiding me out to where he had a straight jacket and a wheelchair waiting outside.

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Once we were outside and in the back of one of his armored trucks, he tossed off the ridiculous wig and nurse hat and the face mask. I sat, still giggling and sore in the stomach, while he slid the rest of the uniform over his head. "If my arms weren't confined right now, I would be covering my eyes." I giggle. His eyes flick up to me as his hands untangle one of his white muscle shirts.

"Nothing you haven't seen before." he says back flatly. I giggle and he rolls his eyes.

"Hmm who knows. Maybe you have a girlfriend." I tease, causing him to glare at me. I wink at his glare and then he slides his shirt on and sweatpants. He pulls me up and seats me in his lap while he works away at unfastening the straight jacket.

Once it was off, it dropped to the floor and I stayed in his lap and tossed my arms around his neck. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and then pulled back to look at him. One of his hands held onto my thigh and the other snaked up my back, running over my tattooed scar, causing me to shiver. Something inside me knows that if I don't tell him the truth, I'm never going to get the commitment from him that I want. I look back to him and he turns to me so we're now making eye contact. With his hand still resting on my scarred shoulder blade, I ask him: "Wanna know how I got these scars?"