"This lucky fellow and the previous victim are both part of the same phobia support group," Harvey reported back at the precinct as Essen looked through the folder Harvey compiled shortly after their return to the precinct. "Pigs? Go figure. How is he?" Essen asked. "He's at Gotham General scared half to death. The medics had to sedate him," Jim answered. "The man you shot, was he in this group too?" Essen inquired. "Nope. No I.D. as of yet. We're running his prints," Jim shook his head. "So, is he our man or are we still looking for someone else?" Essen questioned. While Jim admitted it was hard to say at this point, Harvey seemed thoroughly convinced the masked pig was the one responsible.

"These sort of wackos work alone. I'm gonna run by the support group and tell them it's been settled," Harvey insisted. "Hey, we don't know that yet!" Jim reminded. "You need to be more optimistic," his partner responded as he walked out. "You do. You need to be more optimistic," Essen admitted to Jim. "We have a perp," "The post-mortem incision on the first victim is weird. The killer was after something. I want to know what. I'm gonna ask Nygma to take a look," Jim stated.

"No, he's been suspended," Essen informed him, claiming he had the report from the M.E. "The same M.E. who said my last witness stabbed himself to death in the back with an ice pick?" Jim recalled. "No. No, thanks. Nygma-" "Is not the medical examiner. I like him too, but there's nothing I can do, not with the way things are," Essen cut in. When Jim asked what she meant by that, Essen explained that she was glad they took down Flass, but said there are people you go after and people you don't, and now everything they did from that point on was being watched. "You got the bad guy, let it go," Essen advised. "I'm sorry you got dragged into it," Jim apologized. "Don't be, it felt good," Essen slightly smiled.

~~~~~~~~~

While time seemed to go by slower than a snail on that Wednesday school day, all Holly could do was walk in with a smile and a pep in her step. The art contest was the following Saturday, and the opportunity to have her work presented at the Gotham Art Museum was at the other side of the tunnel. But the second Holly and Cara entered their art class, the entire room went silent. "Why are they staring like that?" Holly whispered. "I don't know, maybe they heard about Natasha?" Cara whispered back as they approached their seats. Even Mrs. Scherer was looking at them like they were a pile of dog poop at the bottom of her shoe.

"Ms. Gordon, Ms. Whitstock, come to my desk, please," Mrs. Scherer motioned them forward. Holly could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. She rarely got called to the teacher's desk, and as she looked back to Cara, she was just as nervous. "I am very disappointed in both of you," Mrs. Scherer stated. "It's come to my attention that Natasha Greenfield has dropped out of the art contest. And I've been informed that you and Ms. Whitstock bullied her into dropping out. Can you explain this?" Holly's eyes widened. Bullied? I never bullied her! "Mrs. Scherer, I can assure you, we did no such thing," Holly tried to stay calm under such serious accusations.

"We did speak with Natasha, but we did not bully her!" Cara agreed. "I find that very hard to believe," Mrs. Scherer scowled. "Considering I have multiple witnesses who have testified to witnessing your behavior towards Natasha. And not to mention, she dropped off a note at my desk earlier today," Mrs. Scherer opened and reached into one of her drawers, pulling out a scrap of notebook paper that had hurried and scribbled writing in a black sharpie. And while the girls didn't have long to read the note, Holly was able to read the majority.

Dear Mrs. Scherer,

I regret to inform you that I will no longer be participating in this year's art contest due to reasons I do not wish to get into at this time. But I thank you for this incredible opportunity, and I appreciate being a part of this art program for the past few years. You're an incredible teacher, and I hope our paths will cross again one day.

Sincerely,

Natasha Greenfield

This note seems perfectly normal to me! She just didn't want to talk about everything going on with her parents, and frankly, I don't blame her! Holly looked up at Mrs. Scherer as she folded the note and put it back in her desk. "How is this note proof of the bullying we're being accused of?" Cara questioned. "As I said, multiple students claimed they saw you two with her at lunch and claimed they saw her crying and you flipping through her sketchbook," Mrs. Scherer detailed. "Sounds like a case of textbook bullying to me,"

Textbook bullying, my ass! Holly wanted to raise her voice, continuing to plead her and Cara's innocence, but she knew that the more someone raised their voice at such claims, the more they looked like the guilty party. It was such hogwash; how could the teacher think she was capable of inflicting trauma on a vulnerable girl? "Mrs. Scherer, I may have been at this school for a few months, but if you look at my record, not once have I ever resorted to bullying another student," Holly slowly took a deep breath. "And what about when you hit Thomas Elliot in the face?" Mrs. Scherer questioned. "That was self-defense!" Holly reminded her.

"Let's be honest, Mrs. Scherer. Most of the kids here are gossiping stuck-up pieces of shit who do nothing but gossip and spread rumors to ruin the reputations of people they don't like!" Cara snapped. The whole class gasped and murmured to each other as Cara continued to go off, much to Holly's chagrin and pleas for her to stop and that she wasn't helping. "That's enough, Ms. Whitstock! Go, get out of my class!" Mrs. Scherer gestured to the door. "Fine!" Cara rolled her eyes, slamming the door shut behind her. The room went silent again as Holly still stood at the desk. "Listen, Ms. Gordon. I want to believe you, I really do," Mrs. Scherer whispered, her cold stare softening. "Please, Mrs. Scherer. I'm not what everyone is claiming I am," Holly said.

"Look, if you can provide some proof that you and Ms. Whitstock weren't bullying Natasha, I'll believe you. But in the meantime, I have no choice but to disqualify you," Holly's heart sank to the bottom of her stomach. Part of her understood why, but at the same time, it still felt unfair to her. With every step Holly took back to her seat, all she could do was think of a way to clear her name and get back into the art competition.

But how?

~~~~~~~~~~

The wheels in Holly's head continued to turn as she tried to solve her little kerfuffle, and even as the hours passed, she found herself going nowhere. As much as it was tempting to ask her father for guidance, she didn't want him to get involved in her drama, fearing it'd only make it worse. She had to fix this on her own. "Hey Hols, can you come in here for a second?" Jim called into the hallway from the bedroom. "Coming!" Holly called back, setting down her homework as she went to see what he needed. "What's up?" She asked.

"I'm going out with Lee tonight, and I was thinking I could get your opinion," Jim explained. "That depends. What kind of date is it? Coffee? Nice restaurant?" Holly inquired. Jim reached into his half of the closet, pulling out two suits as he explained they were going to a nice restaurant. One was charcoal black and was more on the formal side, while the other was a dark navy blue, still formal, but with more of a classier approach. "Which one are you thinking?" He questioned as Holly debated between the two. "I like the blue," She finally answered. "I think black should be for something more upscale. Like one of those expensive places Mom's always gushing about,"

"Perfect, thanks!" Jim nodded appreciatively as Holly walked out of the room and back to her homework. And just as she returned to the couch, she saw she had three missed calls and five texts from Cara. I don't have long. Florence heard what happened in art and I'm losing my phone. One text read. Any ideas yet? Another one read. As Holly skimmed through the text messages, it seemed like Cara was just as clueless as she was. But when she reached the final text, a lightbulb went off. What if there's video proof somewhere? Maybe that'll help us!

It may have been a long shot to get the footage from that day in the cafeteria, but it was a risk Holly was willing to take. "Alright, Holly. I'm heading out now. I'll call you when I'm coming back, okay?" Jim said as he grabbed his jacket, his free hand clutching a small folder. "What's that?" Holly pointed to the folder. "Just some information regarding the investigation," Jim explained. "Dad..." Holly sighed, shaking her head. "What? What's wrong with that?" Jim looked confused. "When people go on dates, they typically don't talk about work. That's a huge turn-off," She explained.

"How do you know what a turn-off is?" Jim questioned. "I heard it from people at school. The point is, if you want to impress Lee, maybe don't talk about work until after the dinner," Holly advised. "But wouldn't it be easier to just rip the Band-Aid and get it over with?" Jim asked. "Well, considering most of your cases are gory in detail, I think Lee would lose her appetite," Holly said. "Fair enough," Jim nodded. "Just... if you absolutely have to ask for her help, just wait until after," Holly repeated.

"Alright, I'll figure something out. Be good, don't let anybody in. I'll see you later," Jim waved, locking the penthouse door behind him.

~~~~~~~~~

As Jim sat at the mostly occupied restaurant, he straightened his tie and adjusted the folder resting at the corner of the table. It was getting closer to the time Lee said she'd be there. Jim wouldn't admit it, but he was nervous. He hadn't been on a first in over fourteen years, and he felt like the nervous early twenties army guy all over again, with no experience in women or dating. But this was different. This was a new start for him. A rough one, yes, but a new start nonetheless. "Hi!" Lee smiled as she walked over to Jim's table, her curled dark hair bouncing with every step. She looked breathtaking in her dark green and black dress. "Hi, thank you for coming," Jim nervously swallowed, pulling her chair back as she went to sit down.

"I was glad to get your call," Lee blushed. "How are things at Arkham?" Jim asked. "A little less interesting since you left. How are things at the precinct?" Lee answered. "Uh... well actually, that was what I was hoping you could help me with," Jim reached for the folder and opened it. "We've got this case, and I can't understand what the perp was doing. And our medical examiner is kinda a clown," Lee's face fell the more he talked about his case. And as Jim looked up to meet her gaze, he could see her disappointment. "Is something wrong?" Jim inquired. "No, not at all," Lee shook her head. "Only last time we met, you were very passionate. So, when you called me, I thought..." Lee paused for a moment as he realized Holly had been right all along. Talking about work on a date was a huge turn-off.

"Well, whatever, I put on lipstick, and you wanted forensic advice. You're very confusing," Lee stated. "I don't mean to be. The case is a pretext. I just wanted to see you," Jim said. "Then why didn't you say that?" Lee asked. "I should have. I haven't done this in a while. I'm a little rusty, sorry," Jim apologized. Lee chuckled as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "All right. Well, good. I don't like to put on lipstick by mistake. So, what's the issue?" Jim tried to pull the folder away, saying they should forget about the case, but Lee placed her on top of it, assuring she was interested.

Just as they were about to get into the case, Jim's phone started ringing, and he excused himself from the table as he went to answer it. "Gordon. When? Uh, yeah, okay. Take his statement. I'll be right there," Of course. Right as Jim was about to settle down and have dinner with the woman who healed his broken heart, duty called. "I'm sorry, I have to go," Jim returned to the table, looking very guilty about having to cut their date short. "I'm fine," Lee promised. "You sure?" Jim double-checked. "Yes, I'll bring this back to you," Lee nodded. Jim smiled, pressing a kiss to her lips before he reached for his phone and dialed Harvey. But as it went to voicemail, Jim explained the second victim woke up, saying he was abducted by two men and that the ones responsible were out there.

Across the city, Harvey was busy with his conversation with Ms. Mullens as they walked into the phobia support group. "It's kind of you to come here and tell us what happened," Her hand brushed up against Harvey's shoulder. "No problem. I just didn't want you worrying, so..." Harvey trailed off before finding the right words. "To be honest, you don't strike me as the fraidy cat type," Ms. Mullens looked surprised by that comment. "Phobics are not fraidy-cats," she stated. "I know. It's just, you seem like a strong lady, is all," Harvey clarified. "I am strong," Ms. Mullens insisted. "I just happen to be terrified of swimming pools," She admitted.

"You're kidding," Harvey looked surprised. "Well, I can see how that might be a thing," "Nearly everyone has a thing. I'm sure that if you dig deep enough, you would have issues that you need to confront," Miss Mullens explained. "I'm a cop. The only thing I'm scared of is decaf coffee," Harvey joked. "Really? I've always found that the best and bravest people are the ones that willingly acknowledge their fears," Scottie quirked a brow. "Maybe you've just been hanging out with too many timid and whiny people," Harvey said, making Ms. Mullens scoff. "You are so bad," she shook her head in disbelief.

Harvey leaned in a little closer, his voice turning into a quiet whisper. "I'm scared all the time. And it's something I'd be willing to share with the group if you think it might be helpful," "Yes. Yes, thank you. I think it would," Scottie nodded before excusing herself to join the group upstairs. Feeling his stomach grumble with hunger, Harvey walked up to the pink cloth-covered table as he made himself a cup of coffee, sneaking in a donut or two. "First time?" A man with short and messy blonde hair asked as he joined him at the table. "Yeah, you?" Harvey returned the question. "No, I'm a regular," the man answered as he and Harvey walked up the stairs.

The two didn't make that much small talk, but from their brief encounter, Harvey couldn't deny something was off about this man.