"Thank you, Alex." Quinn pulled me into a tight embrace, her arms a lifeline in a place intent on swallowing all warmth. She held me just a moment longer before letting go, but her gaze stayed with me. "This was the best holiday of my life," she said, her voice surprisingly steady.

I laughed softly. "Even though you spent it in a mental hospital?"

Her smile brightened, a flash of mischief crossing her features. "That makes it even better. This place is twisted, sure—but I guess it's the kind of twisted I can call home. At least, for now. Still…" She screwed up her nose, glancing around the bleak hallway. "I can't wait to get out of this disgusting hole!"

I grinned, meeting her look with a raised eyebrow. "You do realize you just contradicted yourself, right?"

She shrugged with a little laugh, and in that moment, none of it seemed to matter. We let the silence hold us before she nudged me with her shoulder, as if signaling it was time. Our parting kiss was passionate—more solace than farewell. Then, with a last squeeze of her hand, I stepped back past the heavy doors, leaving behind the cacophony of voices and the ceaseless hum of institutional despair. Not just metaphorically, either. I'd left a small surprise for the Joker—one he wouldn't expect—but I held no desire to face him today. Some goodbyes, even I couldn't stomach.

Outside, the city felt shockingly alive. My next destination had already cast its spell in my mind: the restaurant Quiet Backwater, a place that had become a kind of sanctuary. Madame Alexandra would have anticipated everything—she always did, her organizational rigor something both legendary and a little daunting.

Sure enough, as soon as I reached the threshold, I was enveloped in the scent of warm honey-vanilla, melting into notes of nut syrup and smoky caramel. It was impossible to feel anything but comforted. The tables were masterpieces in themselves: a riot of pastries, cakes, desserts, and, of course, chocolates in every possible shape and size, arranged so artfully you'd think a mad chocolatier had staged an edible symphony. There was an undertone to everything here—a dash of creative madness, just enough to make you doubt if you were awake or in some generous dream.

"Alex, you've finally arrived." Madame Alexandra's voice cut clear through the room, stern as ever but tinged with her special brand of affection. She fixed me with a sharp look, arms crossed. "You start the party, then dump the entire organizational nightmare on me. Shameful, truly shameful, young man."

I shot her a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry. I had a lot to take care of—and it's not what you think."

She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Not what I think? Please, just don't tell me you spent the whole day chasing after your girls." She huffed. "Three, wasn't it? I've seen you—Alex, take a word of advice from someone with a lifetime more experience than you: pick one, stick with her. All this running from one heart to another—it never ends well. The truth will come out, and when it does, you'll wish you'd found calmer waters."

I lifted my hands in surrender. "I'll keep that in mind, Madame. But my situation's… a bit special."

"How so?" she pressed, but before I could formulate an answer, another voice cut in—light, teasing, familiar. Victoria and Silver appeared, their dresses a swirl of color and style, each effortlessly beautiful, each making a beeline for me. Without hesitation, they pressed close, linking their arms through mine and kissing my cheeks in perfect synchrony.

"That's what makes my situation 'special,'" I said helplessly, glancing at Madame Alexandra's wide-eyed shock. For a heartbeat, she stood frozen in bewilderment, then, gathering her composure, simply shook her head and retreated to her duties. Some mysteries, it seemed, were too much even for her.

It occurred to me how deeply she'd woven herself into my world in such a short time. Her stern guidance, the comfort she offered—it reminded me of family, or the memory of it. Maybe she saw something in me that echoed her son; maybe that's why it felt like guilt sometimes to accept all her care.

By then, the restaurant had filled with color and movement. Barbara and Heather swept in, their outfits worthy of any fairy tale ball. Paul Diaz, our ever-reliable manager, arrived with his effervescent sister. Next, Detectives Renee Montoya and Harvey Bullock pushed through, their cop eyes scanning every face, though their expressions softened—just a little—in the festival's warmth. Even Commissioner Gordon received an invite, though duty called him elsewhere. The music came alive as Dazzler led our house band onstage, her voice the spark at the center of it all, and she'd brought Vivian, and our recent hires Jackson and Gaga, who blended seamlessly into the friendly chaos.

The spirit in the air was contagious—cheerful and relaxed, a sanctuary where everyone's rough edges could find comfort, even if just for tonight. With so many friends and colleagues gathered, laughter ran freely. But then, the entrance darkened with the arrival of Kavito Rao and Pamela. They were unmistakably late, scientists to the bone, pulled from their labs by force of will. An electric tension followed them inside. Detective Montoya fixed Pamela—a.k.a. Poison Ivy—with a glare. Even Bullock stiffened, memory of old battles flaring up. Trust, I knew, was not easily remade.

Sensing the shift, I sidled up to the detectives, throwing an arm around each. "Come on, you two—tonight, everyone here's a friend. No scores to settle under this roof. I promise, nobody's getting hurt."

Bullock snorted. "Easy for you to say, kid. You vouch for her?"

"I do. You're my guests, aren't you?" I let my voice go firm, inviting no argument. "Tonight, just relax."

That seemed to set them at ease, tension thinning in the wake of reassurances.

As the celebratory mood peaked, I took up the microphone, rapping it gently for attention. The room simmered down to a pleasant murmur, eyes turning my way.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" I began, projecting warmth and excitement. "I'll keep it brief—this isn't the night for long speeches. We're here, all of us, because we love sweets and good company. On World Sweets Day, let's honor those delights, discover new flavors, and return, even for a little while, to that childhood joy of simple pleasures. And remember—moderation is its own kind of wisdom. Celebrate, indulge, but don't lose your balance." I raised a cupcake in salute. "To all the passionate sweet tooths in the room—happy holiday!"

A chorus echoed back—"Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!"—punctuated by the joyful clinking of cakes and pastries held high.

As the festivities wound to a gentle close, I felt the finality of the moment settle over me. It was time to share the news weighing on my heart. I waited for a lull, then cleared my throat. "There's something I need to tell all of you. I'll be leaving Gotham—just for a while, half a month at most. Some of you know where I'm headed, but for others"—I looked meaningfully at Detective Montoya, whose eyes widened—"this might come as a surprise."

Anxiety flickered on a few familiar faces. Vicki and Silver knew the destination—Arctic cold, secret as the shadows. But I wasn't about to pile extra worry on their shoulders. "I promise, I'll be back in plenty of time for Halloween. You know I couldn't miss that."

Whispers broke out, parting sadness and good wishes mixed together. What truly surprised me was how much my leaving hurt my friends—some of whom I'd only recently drawn into my orbit. Perhaps that's what connection feels like: a network of invisible threads, each tugging softly, reminding you you're not alone.

The night ended on a boisterous note, with Vika, Silver, and Barbara locked in an unexpectedly intense debate about who would see me off. The "discussion" nearly laid waste to half the desserts before they reached a truce—pulling me by the collar, in fits of laughter, toward my apartment. Let's just say it was the perfect farewell. Sometimes, the universe gives you just what you need.

***********************

[Airport, 9:00 AM.]

The city was barely awake, fog curling in the distance, baggage carts trundling along the glistening floor. I exhaled, feeling the tingle of the coming adventure.

"Smell that, Sasha?" I said, pretending gravity didn't exist.

"Are we really heading to the Arctic?" she asked, a tinge of excitement in her eyes.

"Not quite yet," I replied, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "First stop: New York. There's a philanthropist with a flashlight in his chest I need to meet. Once we're done there, then we can chase the cold wilds."

She grinned, standing slightly taller. "Wherever you go, Alex, I've got your back."

I grinned. "I know. Shall we?"

.........

200PS= 1 extra chapter

Hello all, thanks for reading, tell me if you see any problem in the chapter.

I just made a discord, so join if you want to. I'll drop the link in the comment.

If you want to copy the link, then just open the book in web and from the synopsis you can copy it.

Btw, I just started something, today one of my patron asked me if I can write a short 1500 words story for him and told me the direction and I really enjoyed it, so tell me if any of you would like the same. If the story makes my humour tingle, then I'll write it.