#so i might as well check out what they had in the psychology adjacent sections & they had a few things im interested in giving a quick read

[nerdie-faerie]

Just finished 3 and half hours of research for my presentation and there isn't much more I can do at the library without internet but it's raining so I decided to treat myself to some psychology related reading so naturally I granned the dsm5

[fordarkisthesuede]

At the Brink of Midnight - Chapter 11

IT’S FINALLY HERE! REJOICE!!!

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Important Spoiler Tags:  past suicide attempt (mention), death (mention)

(Read on Ao3 or Continue Below:)

Chapter 11:  A Laughing Matter

The ride to Jackie Lant’s apartment was fast and quiet. Bruce wasn’t sure why, as John had a tendency to talk a lot when they were riding around before, and would talk about almost anything.

John was mulling over something, and when asked, John had shrugged and said “just some things”.

Like Bruce couldn’t worry over a response like that. He figured it had to have been what happened at the Main Street Diner. John’s street make-up was back on, and done just as impeccably this time, but with the addition of heavy black eyeliner, so it wasn’t as if he’d left in a rush.

Jackie’s apartment was high up in a building that had definitely seen better days. The neighborhood wasn’t one of the best, either – Bruce had visited it many times, always late at night, and he was sure he’d been on the other side of the apartment building on a case long, long ago.

They entered through the rooftop door, which it seemed no one had bothered to lock. (Not that Bruce was surprised – he was the only one in the city who made a habit of flying roof-to-roof, and anyone who walked up to any building’s roof at night was up to nothing good ninety-five percent of the time. Raids by blimp or helicopter were few and far between, thankfully.)

“Kind of reminds me of Arkham,” John (no, Joker, they were outside together) commented in a hushed voice as he shook the rainwater off his borrowed fedora. The stairwell was vaguely reminiscent of the asylum’s, but rather than white-washed brick, it was bare and aged, and it didn’t have the large glowing florescent lights hanging on the walls. There was just a small light in the middle of the staircase leading down.

“Her place is just on the fourth floor,” Bruce said, leading the way with light steps. He was always careful about stairs; he never knew if someone was sitting below a set.

The metal door leading into the hallway was lighter than it looked. Peeling red wallpaper greeted them, and the dark wooden floor had seen better days, but it wasn’t the worst apartment building Bruce had ever set foot in. It’d be a four out of ten, if he was feeling generous… The water stains on the ceiling certainly detracted from that generosity.

“If I hadn’t been spoiled by your place, I’d say this was pretty nice,” John muttered, grinning over at Bruce.

Bruce bit back the comment that it was only because John had no decent standard of living, and gave a very small smile in return. He remembered the little place John had made for himself back at the Old Five Points – the Ha-Hacienda, as he had called it. He’d taken what was a run-down little shack and thrown his heart into it, putting up pictures and lights like it was a real home.

He’d tried going back there the day after John had fallen off the bridge, but John had somehow managed to smuggle most of his things out of there to one of his friend’s places, and now they were impossible to find. It hurt to think about.

Jackie Lant had the corner apartment, overlooking the back. Working the lock-picks in the door took so little time Bruce found himself thinking he should find a way to pressure someone into making a policy that apartment managers had to upgrade their client’s locks every few years.

The beam of light stretching in from the hallway cast his shadow over the place, but he could already see it was much homier than Dr. Crane’s, despite it being smaller than Bruce’s master bedroom.

He stepped inside, John (Joker) following him and immediately making a line for the dresser. Bruce decided to look elsewhere.

Posters were plastered and pinned all over the walls, most of which were for movies or famous plays. There were also over a dozen flyers mixed in, like those handed out for amateur gigs, and they all seemed to be for copyright-infringing shows at Gotham University or South End High School; the dates were in line with Jackie’s educational attendance.

There was a cheap wire shelving unit holding all matter of things – books, DVDs, and bits of décor that almost all looked like they came right out of the Halloween section of a D.I.Y. store. Casting a look over at the bed (it didn’t have a frame, it was just two mattresses piled on top of one another, but was a bed) told him it wasn’t just a seasonal thing, either; there were two different pumpkin-shaped cushions and the blanket on top was patterned with smiling jack-o-lantern faces.

At least she had a variety of different tastes:  romance, fantasy, popular YA literature, used psychology textbooks… There were some horror novels in the mix, but it looked more…pulpy than anything. Her little movie collection had a few of the same titles as Crane’s, too, but they looked to be either from the more popular franchises or cheesy b-movies.

Bruce cast a look at the kitchen unit – nothing spectacular, but he should go through the cupboards, just in case she’d hidden anything in there…

“Bats,” Joker called, frowning at the strung-up photos in front of the desk on the back wall, “can your gadgets scan faces?”

“Something like that,” Bruce answered, stepping towards him. Some photographs were placed directly above the desk, adjacent to the window surrounded by string lights with jack-o-lantern faces. They were hung up by laundry clips on wire wrapped around a combination of nails and tiny peel-and-stick hooks. Looking at them made Bruce think of John’s photos, all arranged in a smiley-face wherever he went.

The pictures were all group photos, varying in age, and it didn’t take a genius to notice that the last several pictures all held the same people, but dwindling in number. Bruce clicked a button on his visor, and waited as the Batcomputer scanned the faces he honed in on and ran through its database of connections to news and GCPD files. Jackie Lant was easily recognizable, due to her curly red hair, but in a few pictures she was very young. The oldest photo was just of her and another little girl, looking up into the camera with the sort of wide-eyed innocence that only children could really have.

He checked his gauntlet, and decided to go from the bottom to the top.

Richard Seed, deceased.

Zoe Smith, deceased.

Angela Maynard, deceased.

Deceased, deceased, deceased. It was just one after another, two of which happened one month apart, and half of the death records were pulled from the GCPD – car accidents, crossfire shootings, muggings gone wrong... The earliest death was almost fifteen years ago, when a missing girl was found wrapped in a rug by a dumpster.

Bruce cast a look back at the photo of the seven-or-eight-year-old Jackie Lant, and remembered her mention of how the formative years played a lot into one’s psyche.

The only people left alive came from the middle bunch of photos:  Dean Norton, who still lived in Gotham, and Veronica O’Reilly, who hadn’t lived there for a little over a decade. Dean showed up in only one photo near the end of the bunch, too, where he was with three other people who had passed away within the last four years.

Bruce thought back to the list of contacts she had on her FriendBook. He didn’t remember seeing any R.I.P. posts or anything like it in her timeline, but he’d checked out the people she contacted most on there, and none of them were dead… “Have you seen any other photos?”

“Just two on her dresser – pretty sure it’s her parents and… I dunno, an older guy, so maybe an uncle?”

“I’m beginning to think you were right,” Bruce grumbled, clicking off the scanning feature in his cowl, “Jackie Lant’s current friends might not really be friends. Almost all the people shown here are dead.”

“Yikes,” Joker winced, “and I thought I had it bad, with most of mine in jail…”

“Did you find anything in the dresser?”

“A few spare bullets and a box of condoms. You know, the essentials,” he joked.

Bruce cast a look down at the desk. A laptop and a tray of loose papers. “Check the closet. If she hid Crane’s stuff here, the only spot left is there or the kitchen.”

“On it,” Joker said confidently, swinging open the flimsy panel doors behind them. “Though I would think I’d scatter them all over the place… You know, put the drive in a bag and tape it inside the toilet tank. That kind of thing.”

Bruce flicked through the pile of paper – mostly the bills for rent, insurance, and student loans, at least two of the latter bearing ‘OVERDUE’ stamps. “Then check there, too. Follow your instinct.”

“Ha ha, okaaayyyy,” John drew out quietly, shifting through a pile of clothes. Jackie seemed to prefer yellows and reds; Bruce remembered her work clothes looking rather nice, and wondered if she hadn’t spent more money on them than anything else.

Bruce opened the laptop on her desk, mindful of the speakers she had plugged into it knocking over the well-loved stuffed cat sitting there. The lock-screen was password-protected and the hint was “check the handbook”.

Handbook…? Hadn’t he seen something with that?

Bruce returned to the shelf – The Handbook for the Recently Deceased sat next to an empty candlestick holder molded in the shape of a raven.

Sure enough, it was a blank journal with a list of contact information (birthdays and death dates were listed, too, much to Bruce’s surprise) and passwords to different sites – banks, her social media, and even a bloggr account – with the laptop’s password written on a sticky note in the front:  Pumpk1nPr1nc355.

“Hey, Batman, I found somethiiing,” Joker called, tugging out a heavy-looking lock-box. “Hidden right under the loose floorboard, how cliché… Ooh, you looking into her laptop?”

“I figured it might give an insight into her, if she didn’t have Crane’s work copied onto it.”

“Right. You look at that, I’m going to poke around her bathroom for a key to this thing.”

Bruce wanted to question that, but Joker left without another word, a confident smile on his lips.

Jackie Lant’s laptop hummed to life. It seemed it had been in hibernation mode – her browser was still open to her email.

Bruce read through the headers:

New post from Batman Watch

New post from Gotham-Sucks

[!] Application for job #P283451

[!] Application for job #E7990S2

We’re sorry to inform you that your…

New post from Gotham-Sucks

RE:  St. Mary’s Mental Ward Position...

RE:  Hopkins Mental Clinic application

BatmanChick96 replied to your post

[!] Application for job #8714E03

Bruce could deduce without even opening any of them that the application notifications were rejections. Judging by the bloggr notifications, she was likely trying to leave the city. Scrolling down further and seeing the list of rejected applications amidst the odd bank statement and old blog notifications told him she’d been trying to do leave Gotham for months.

That explained why she wanted to steal Crane’s work – she must have figured that she could take it and run out of the city, publish it with her name attached, and make something out of it. In her mind, he supposed, she had bills to pay and not much to lose.

He opened her file browser; thankfully it looked like she was the type to keep all her files fairly organized. There was what looked like a folder for her old school documents, a folder for her Arkham internship-employment, tax folders… A quick search said the only thing with Crane’s name in it was a term paper on Working Through Grief and some copies of his work, though they weren’t opened in over a year.

Looking under her recent files, she had a video labeled with a date from several days ago, and she did have a webcam… Maybe she was the type to vlog.

“Whelp, nothing in there… What’d you find?” Joker asked, coming to stand behind Bruce and lean on the back of the rolling office chair.

“Hopefully, a video log.”

“Well press play, then! Maybe she’ll just tell us where she stashed Crane’s stuff. I’m going to be mad if it’s not in that safe…”

Bruce double-clicked the video dated several days ago.

Jackie Lant sat in front of the desk, pushing back the laptop screen until she was entirely in view. She threaded her fingers together under her chin, on level with her hair, and and gazed right at the camera with an intense focus as she breathed deep.

“Normally, I try not to talk too openly in these sessions, in case I have one of those Agents monitoring me like everyone seems to think we do, but just in case I fail miserably, or Professor Crane decides to bury me in his backyard, I want to say something. I’m probably going to regret this video later… Then again, if everything works out, I’m going to delete this and pretend it never happened anyway.”

Jackie shrugged, folding her arms on top of her desk.

“There’s…no going back for me, now. I had to keep telling myself that if I did… If I did, then I might as well just throw myself off of the bridge tomorrow. I’m in too deep. I know too much. I’ve…seen too much.”

The young woman scowled slightly down at her hands.

“I can’t pretend that I’m not going to regret anything. I already regret a lot. I don’t think I’d be at this point if I’d chosen a theater major,” she said with a slight hint at a smile. “But in case something happens, I just really want to say – I’m the one who tried to kill Dr. Jonathan Crane, and stole all of the research that would’ve given evidence pertaining to his unethical experiments at Arkham Asylum. I’m hoping someone will find his bloated corpse floating around the docks or face-down in a pool of his own blood in the street,” she continued with a nasty curl of her lip that lasted all but a couple of seconds. “If not, then I failed, and I’m probably dead already, either by Dr. Crane himself, or Bruce Wayne, for taking advantage of him like I am tonight. I wouldn’t blame him for it, honestly…” She looked down, regret flashing in her eyes. “He and I both have mobster blood in us, I’d be surprised if he didn’t want to kill me for letting his friend get hurt and not doing anything to stop it… It’s what Great-Uncle Finger would do.”

Jackie looked back up at the camera, sincerity peeking through a steely gaze.

“But I am sorry to whoever might get caught in the middle. I hope there’s none, but… If I could see the future, then I would’ve swallowed that bottle of ibuprophen years ago.”

The video cut out after a moment, and Joker immediately leaned over Bruce to click through the video folder, his eyes shining in the light of the bright screen. “She’s got to have more. Something,” he muttered, and promptly played a video dated nearly six weeks ago in a folder marked “personal vlogs”.

The first thing Bruce noticed was that Jackie still had her long ponytail, giving credit to the date on the filename. The second detail was that she looked rather conflicted, even as she just sat there hugging herself in her jack-o-lantern blanket.

“I had…an epiphany, last night. I normally would’ve done this when I got home, but… I couldn’t. I was too… I’m not sure. Not scared… Bewildered, I guess is the right word. Dr. Crane invited me over to his house again, yesterday. I thought, ‘yeah, last time was nice, despite the talk about death in the middle, why not’? It was okay, at first. You know, home-made pumpkin spice lattes, catch-up about how I’m doing, gossiping about patients’ sessions I have to sit in on… And then we got onto the topic of Gotham, somehow. I think I asked him why he stayed here, since he had the means to leave, and he just…”

She was half looking into the camera with general disbelief.

“He said he liked it. He thinks all the general misery is fun to study. I didn’t know what else to say to that, so I tried to change the subject, and asked what he thought of Batman, because…I mean, what normal person doesn’t like him, right? And he thinks he’s fascinating. Or…really, he thinks the effect Batman has on the city is fascinating. He thinks the way criminals fear him is interesting. So… I just said, ‘yeah, that makes sense, you like studying human behavior around fear, don’t you?’”

She got quiet, but stared dead at the camera.

“He lit up at that. Like, the happiest I think I’ve ever seen him. He actually smiled a little,” she pressed, leaning forward to emphasize her point before sitting there with her arms on the table. “So, I figured that had to be good. We talked about his work for a really long time - I still remember going through bits of it at school, and I did genuinely like his stuff, so he walked me through his last one, and I guess I said something right, because… He said he was testing something special for his current research, and he asked what my worst fear was.”

She paused and sat up straight, crossing her arms again.

“I mean, I’m not stupid enough to ask why. I can guess why. So I told him my old one so it’d be believable. And he just looks at me and says ‘So imagine I can manifest those roaches before your eyes. What would you do?’” She phrased in a fairly good imitation of Crane’s pitch, “I said I didn’t know; probably squish as many as possible while screaming my head off, and he…he just said, ‘Yes, that’d be interesting, wouldn’t it?’”

She stared down at the surface of the desk, almost in awe.

“And I just… I just realized, right there, that he was making something to do that to patients. I never asked him about what he did in sessions, but… I’m allowed to peek at almost everyone’s notes to look at the progress of certain patients, and it just…hit me. He’s why some of them are regressing.”

She was quiet for a minute, only shifting to get comfortable again, and staring out the window by the desk.

“And I couldn’t help but think, ‘that IS interesting’. I thought that, and I meant it, and I hate that I thought it at all. And… I know that secret, now. I have to carry it around with everything else.”

Jackie stared a little longer, first out the window, then at her desk, and then she swiveled the chair and moved to click the mouse with an irritated scowl.

“Fuck it.”

That was certainly enlightening… Bruce had wondered how Jackie had developed the idea to steal his research – she’d apparently known for weeks already, before she’d reached out to him days ago and asked for his help. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it was her who had prevented him from seeing John, solely to drum up his suspicion and get him invested in her idea of helping her steal Crane’s files.

(Though he couldn’t see her knowing everything else in-between. There was no way she knew he stole Crane’s fake drugs from the lab, or that they would walk right by John that day, or that John would break out of his cell at all.)

John was already clicking to another video, a determined frown on his long face.

“Joker, that’s enough,” Bruce said, moving to stop him, but Joker was just fast enough to start a new one, dated almost four weeks ago, and it caught his attention enough that he let John’s hand go.

Jackie Lant faced the webcam with her head in her hand, taking deep breaths, and on the third, she turned her gaze to the window to her side.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I really, really, don’t.”

The look in her eyes was furious, despite her relatively flat expression.

“I hate it when people say it’s ‘the little things in life’ – they always mean ‘oh, life’s not so bad, just look at this fucking rainbow’, like that will make everything better for you,” she grumbled, turning to look at the camera. “It’s like, ‘hey, you ever see a guy get stabbed in the middle of the road? Just fucking stabbed? And you’re in your car, you have to keep driving, because you’ll be penalized for being late to work, and if you go out there and try to do something about it, you’ll be stabbed, too. And you have to just…pretend like you didn’t see anything. That everything is perfectly fine. It’s just…a little thing,’” Jackie finishes, a lopsided smile tugging on the corner of her mouth for a moment, and then it faded into a flat line. “I tried texting Dean about it, since he was there when Michelle got killed, and he just… He said ‘that’s how life is around here, you gotta be tough’.”

Jackie stared at the table, her eyes glistening slightly, the anger never leaving them.

“Four years… Four years, and that’s what seeing her die in the fucking street has reduced that to. Just another part of life in Gotham.”

She blinked away the tears threatening to fall, taking the sleeve of her hoodie to wipe at her face properly for a moment.

“I tried telling Ver’ about it, too – not directly, just, ‘hey I’m feeling super awful and I hate my life.’ And all she said was, ‘Look on the bright side! It’s the little things that make life worth living!’” she paraphrased in a falsetto sort of voice, her brows furrowing. “Fuck her. Just…fuck her. She can come live in Gotham for a day, see if she can look on the fucking bright side…”

Jackie grunted to herself, rubbing her face into her hands for a moment, and when she reappeared, she had a steady gaze.

“I just have to shove all this down, I guess. Like I don’t already do that all the time.” She stared right at the screen, as if watching herself, and her face grew soft and contemplative. “I’ll just put it next to the thoughts of how I threw my dreams down the gutter, or how much I’d rather risk taking the train to East End than having to work at Arkham one more day,” she added spitefully, despite the glint of humor that crossed over her expression. “I guess I just have to…” She smiled a little wistfully at the camera, even as her eyes dulled. “Smile, though your heart is breaking,” she half-sang.

Bruce heard John snort heavily, as if trying to stifle a laugh, and turned to look just as a loud cackle burst out of him.

John doubled over, clearly trying to stifle his own raucous laugh as he held his stomach like it was the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

Bruce almost wanted to punch him, but held himself steady, clenching his fists as John turned away from him, giggling uncontrollably.

Half a year in Arkham wasn’t going to change him. He was always going to find this sort of thing entertaining. Bruce never quite forgot the conversation they had during Harvey Dent’s speech about hunting down the Children of Arkham; John had grinned wide and joked about it all like it wasn’t actually happening, even though they both knew it was. That same man was right there, throwing open the window and laughing like a damn hyena.

John stuck his head out into the pouring rain, letting the water drown out some of the noise as brown hair dye and make-up started to wash away.

“What are you doing?!” Batman’s voice growled out as Bruce shot up and yanked him back out by the collar, angry at him for laughing at all, for doing something so stupid as showing his face, for further washing away the only thing really keeping him safe-

“I-I’m sorry,” John managed, still chuckling to himself as he tried to steady himself upright using Bruce’s shoulder. “It-it’s funny, but I just… I just can’t – hee hee – be-believe… I’m…” He tried to breathe, a grin still plastered on his face, make-up running terribly in what almost looked like tear-tracks on his cheeks as his laughter slowed. The sound of the video continuing on low volume as rain hit the brick and pavement outside was almost loud enough to prevent Bruce from properly hearing him. “I’m sympathizing with her!” He finished, letting out another little burst of laughter.

That was sympathy…?

“I just – oh, geez, that hurts,” John breathed, a slight giggle coming out as he clutched part of the cape draped over Bruce’s shoulder. “When she was threatening you, back at Arkham, I just thought she was like Crane; a weird, more emotional version of him, but… I hated her for it! And it turns out we - we not only having something in common, but she’s like you,” he emphasized, looking up at the white lenses with a bright-eyed look. It made Bruce feel like he was stuck to the floor. “You both just shove your real feelings down so far even I can’t see them! You both just put on your public faces and pretend!”

Bruce was tempted to wipe some of the run make-up away, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the knowing glint in the green eyes that stared up at him, or if was because he just wanted to distract the man from continuing to hit Bruce right in a sore spot.

“I still don’t like her,” he said, “but I don’t hate her anymore. And that’s so ridiculous, because I loathe anyone who even thinks about hurting you, Bruce,” he finished with a laugh, caressing Bruce’s arm through the batsuit.

He didn’t know what to say. What could he even do, in a place like this? In a situation like this? He felt guilt and warmth pile up on one another, and he wanted to tell him he was sorry, and he wanted to reach out and cup his face and get rid of all the color until there was nothing but John left, and he knew what John said wasn’t exactly healthy but it still sent a rush through him and he just wanted to…

It wasn’t the time or place for anything like that. He was Batman. John was Joker. They were supposed to be investigating Jackie Lant so they could get a lead on Crane.

Batman was sturdy. Bruce was sturdy.

“Joker,” he started, forcing himself to maintain eye contact even as John’s pupils dilated slightly in response, “Go wash the rest of that stuff off. I’ll copy over the rest of Jackie’s vlog files.”

“My face looks that bad, huh?”

“A little.”

Joker tore himself away, letting his fingers slide over the armored bicep as he passed by. He couldn’t feel the touch at all, but the gesture was more than enough to give him a pleasant little jolt.

Bruce copied a compressed version of her vlog files to the USB stick he carried in his belt. They might be useful, or they might not. A quick scroll through of the rest of her documents showed nothing nefarious, no hidden files, no detailed plans - not so much as a crude map of the asylum. Her browsing history was pretty normal, though he did see some bookmarks to particular blogs she followed, such as Batman Watch, Gotham’s-Dark-Knight, and Gotham Gazette Official.

Bruce was sure he could reason with her. Jackie Lant was stubborn, but she seemed desperate for someone to talk to, and relied only on herself for everything; she either had a backup plan memorized for if things went south, or she was making it up as she went along. She clearly internalized a lot of pain, and not having an outlet for it besides talking to herself seemed to be the final straw in what drove her to desperate measures of escape.

She would probably be thrown in a jail cell for assault and conspiracy to murder, but Bruce was fairly positive she needed some mental help. If he managed to talk her down, he could likely fix it so she wasn’t thrown with the rest of the wolves in Black Gate. Perhaps he could even transfer her out of Gotham entirely.

The files had almost finished downloading when Bruce heard a metallic clink ringing against tile followed by a muttered curse.

He rushed to the small, dimly-lit bathroom, and was greeted with John standing on the rim of the built-in tub, rubbing his head with one hand and holding what looked like part of the shower-head in the other.

“No need to worry, Bats,” Joker said without even turning around. “Just hit myself a bit on this,” he explained, holding up the outer piece to the shower attachment. “Good news though, I found the key to the safe!”

Joker hopped down, stooped, and picked up a key from the base of the tub, turning to face Bruce with a proud grin. “I knew it must have been in here!”

His face was mostly clear, now. His eyelids were still fairly dark, but it was a lot of make-up to wash away, and it couldn’t have been easy for such a fast job. His eyebrows were back to being green, and there were even chunks of color showing under the temporary hair dye.

Bruce forced himself to focus on the task at hand. “How did you think to look in the showerhead?”

“Jackie’s a super-secretive girl, and I would put a key to a safe holding what I was working my life towards in a place no one would think to loo… And the toilet tank was empty.” He dangled the key in front of their faces. “You want to do the honors, Batman?”

Bruce took the invitation. He dropped the lock-box onto the desk, minding the laptop, and turned the key, pushing away the tiny concerned thought about a potential bomb.

He pushed aside the academic papers Crane had written on top of the pile, and found a stack of Arkham patient notes that Bruce knew he’d comb through later, despite it likely not holding much more information than he already knew. And then, under all that, was Crane’s hard drive.

“See if you can find some plastic bags,” Bruce suggested, leafing through the papers to make sure everything was accounted for.

“No need to look, Batsy,” Joker grinned, and yanked an orange bag from the trench coat’s ticket pocket as if he were pulling out a line of scarves. “Ta-dah!”

“That’ll do,” Bruce answered, unable to stop the minute smile from spreading on his face.

He’d all but tied the handles together and passed it to Joker for safe-keeping when the head-set in his cowl rang obnoxiously in his ear.

“Hello?” He asked in his normal voice.

“It’s just me, Batman,” Tiffany answered, sounding somewhat drained; John mouthed ‘who is it’ as he stepped a little closer. “I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. I’m just having trouble wrapping my head around…everything.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Yeah, well… I also wanted to tell you I got a signal from one of Maroni’s thug’s phones. I’ll send you the coordinates. Is he with you?”

“…yes.”

“Figures… I’ll…discuss that with you another time. Just…be careful out there.”

“Always am.”

“No you’re not,” Tiffany countered with a light-hearted scoff before hanging up.

Notes:  Blargggh, my brain failed me at a critical time, and then today my stomach acted up for about 2 hours, which impeded me further!! Something must have really wanted me to just wrap up this chapter here… That, or they wanted you guys to wait this long. I certainly didn’t!! (T^T)

As always, thank you SO SO much to everyone that comments, reblogs, likes, kudos, bookmarks, or subscribes!!! I said it before and I'll say it again - I love you guys!!! You guys are awesome!!!! (ෆˊ͈ ु꒳ ूˋ͈ෆ) I'm gearing up for some good times comin' soon... REAL good times. Stay tuned next weekend...