Hi guys! So this is another PLL/The Dark Knight crossover. It's probably the last two things you'd think of combining, but it's worked surprisingly well for me! This idea came to me while I was in the middle of writing my other story (which you all should check out), and it might even be a stronger story than the other one. As I was thinking about how the Joker's dynamic with each of the four PLL girls, Hanna's turned out to be the most fun and intriguing, because of how they have similar senses of humor and how opposite their personalities are at the same time. With all of Hanna's problems with her dad, stepmom and stepsister on the TV show, she was perfect for this story! The story takes place a week after the PLLs find out that Mona is A. Hopefully this isn't too similar to the other Joker-has-a-daughter stories out there. If you haven't watched the show before, some of the stuff in here might not make sense so you might want to look up Hanna Marin on wikipedia first, but if so, I hope you like it! Reviews and suggestions are always welcome!

Note: I don't own The Dark Knight or Pretty Little Liars!

"I still don't understand why you couldn't tell me all this, Hanna," my mom, Ashley, shakes her head as we sip coffee in our kitchen. "I would've done everything to protect you."

"It was too dangerous," I insist. "Mona would've gone after you, too, and that was the last thing I wanted."

"We could've gone to the cops," she said. "They would've taken care of her a long time ago."

No, they wouldn't have, I want to tell my mom. I'm willing to bet that Mona paid them all to not do anything if any of us went to them. Wilden was in on it, for sure; I bet Garrett was, too. I'm so glad he's behind bars now. But if we went to the cops – any of us – Mona probably would've killed us in our sleep or something afterwards.

"I don't know," I shrug, not knowing what else to say without giving too much away. Even with Mona gone, I still feel like there's someone else still out there, waiting.

It amazes me, honestly, how Mona managed to hit me with a car the night of her birthday party – her "glamping" party, she called it – and not feel sorry about it at all! I feel sick now thinking about when she visited me at the hospital afterward, acting like she was my friend. Not to mention she tricked Caleb into making out with her! I trusted that bitch, and she betrayed me! It makes me wonder if she was ever really my friend, or if our friendship was just her way of getting revenge.

"Tom called about half an hour ago," my mom continues after a few moments of silence. "He's worried about you."

"So you're calling him Tom now?" I raise my eyebrows, with a small smile. I'm still upset with him; he treats Kate like his daughter now, instead of me.

"Well, he's not exactly your father," my mom takes a sip from her white coffee mug.

"He definitely hasn't been acting like one," I agree. It took her this long to finally admit that to herself?

"That's not what I meant," she looks at me directly with a serious face.

I look up at her, surprised by her response. "What's that supposed to mean?"

My mom purses her lips together, licks them, and takes a deep breath, like she always does whenever she's about to tell me something big. What is it now, Isabel's eggo is preggo?

"Tom was never really your father to begin with."

I nearly spit out my coffee right after she said that. "WHAT?"

My mom's facial expression changes, and she looks really sad all of a sudden. "I'm sorry." Her voice was barely a whisper.

Anger boils inside me now. I can't even begin to describe how much I hate my dad for choosing Isabel and Kate over Mom and I, and now I'm starting to hate her too. First she lies about the money she stole from a poor lady's bank account, and now she tells me she lied about my own father! Now my entire life has been a lie. And I thought things would be better without A breathing down my back.

"Why?" I ask, doing everything I can not to yell at her.

She doesn't answer.

"My whole life feels like a lie now, thanks to you, you know that?" I'm almost yelling, but I don't care at this point. I've been through enough shit to the point where I'm this close to not caring about anything!

She still doesn't say anything, so I put my cup and saucer into the sink and leave. "You know what? Fine. Don't tell me. I don't even want to know anymore." That was a fat lie, and we both knew it, but I don't want to say anything I'll regret later.

I storm into my room, crying. I've been holding back for this past week since finding out that one of my best friends turned out to be the one that's been torturing me this entire fucking year, but I can't hold it in any longer. I can only imagine how Emily's holding up; Mona probably killed Maya, too. Aria and Spencer have called and/or texted me asking how I'm doing, since they know I was closest to Mona, but I haven't answered. I think they understand; they probably do. They were there for me when Mona wasn't, and especially when Ali wasn't.

I walk over to my side table, and a picture of Mona and I making silly faces last summer before junior year sits there, looking right at me. It's a pretty frame too, a simple white frame with a Coco Chanel symbol right in the center on top. I carefully slip out the picture and rip it in half, ripping Mona's half into pieces before tossing it in my trash bin. I hang my half on my mannequin next to an old picture of our group with Alison; our last group picture that was taken a few weeks before she died. I smile at that bittersweet memory.

Knock, knock.

"Hanna?"

My mom.

"I don't wanna talk right now," I sniffle, grabbing a Kleenex from my vanity and wiping my eyes away.

She comes in anyway. Of course.

She sits on my bed with her hands folded neatly in her lap, waiting for me to join her. I sigh and do so, crossing my arms.

"That probably wasn't the best time for me to break the news to you," she finally said. "But either way, your reaction would've been more or less the same."

I nod. She's definitely right about that. "So," I begin, "If…Tom…isn't my dad, then who is?"

"I suppose I should start from the beginning," my mom said, still in that same, quiet voice she uses when she's telling me a sad story. "I grew up and lived in Gotham City my entire life, up until I was your age. I lived in the tougher part of town, near the Narrows."

"The Narrows?" I ask, confused.

"It was a very scary neighborhood," she explained. "Arkham Asylum – where the most dangerous criminals are held – was only three blocks from where I lived. You couldn't be out once the sun went down; that's when all the crime bosses came out. I saw every day I survived without a scratch as a blessing; I learned the value of life that way. Anyway, I met your father when we were six. His name was Jack. Jack Napier. There were some bullies on the playground at school picking on him, calling him a freak because he didn't talk much and kept to himself a lot. I felt sorry for him, and I invited him to help me finish my sandcastle." She pauses to smile for a minute. "Later that day, I discovered he lived next door, and we became close friends. We were inseparable. As I got to know him better, I learned that he had a very tough life; his father would beat his mother every day in front of him, and he'd throw empty glass bottles at him, too. Every day, he had a new story to tell me. He came over to our house a lot to get away; he was practically part of the family."

"What about his mom?" I ask.

"He loved his mom very, very much," she said. "She was the most important woman in his life, besides me. Our friendship eventually became a relationship when we were fifteen. Then one day, we decided to have sex. It was the first time for both of us, and it ended up being a very special moment. Everything was normal afterwards until about two weeks later. I started feeling sick every morning, and I'd start throwing up randomly. I found out the next day that I was pregnant after being tested at school. Being your age at the time, I was far too scared to tell my mother. I was devastated, but I decided right then and there I was going to keep you. Many people tried to talk me out of it, but I stood my ground. I went over to Jack's later that day to meet his parents, like we'd planned a few days before, and I'd also planned to tell him about my being pregnant. But suddenly, everything that could've possibly gone wrong went wrong before my very eyes.

"His father – this huge, bulky man that looked like a sumo wrestler – was holding him against the refrigerator, with a knife in his mouth, slowly cutting back and forth in his mouth. His mother lay dead on the floor, with blood bleeding out of her head. Jack had this fearful, yet crazed look in his eye as his father grabbed him by his hair and cut back and forth on the other side, too. I wanted to help so badly, but I was too horrified to say or do anything; I don't think he even knew I was there. Then, the weirdest, most bizarre thing happened right as I turned. Jack laughed. This crazed, maniacal cackle. While his father was shocked at him, he took the knife and stabbed him. His own father. Jack stabbed him repeatedly in the chest and neck before jamming it into his heart."

I stare at my mom in disbelief. "He killed his own dad? And laughed about it?" And I thought Mona was bad.

"What he did was wrong," my mom said, "absolutely, but I wasn't surprised, with everything he'd gone through. He just cracked. It just made me sad to see him come to that and go to that extreme. By the time he finished laughing, he noticed me standing in the doorway, and his face changed, like he suddenly felt awful for what he did. 'Ashley, I can explain,' he said, but his voice…wasn't his. It was like he was a whole different person. Everything I knew about him – or thought I knew – just went down the drain right then and there. I was scared for my life, and for yours, too. I turned and ran, without looking back and hopped on the first train that passed through the Gotham train station, and I eventually ended up here in Rosewood."

I suddenly feel bad for everything I said about Tom, Isabel, or even Kate; I even regret breaking up their wedding. After hearing Mom's story about my real father, I realize now I could've had it way worse. "Mom…I'm so sorry." I lean over to give her a hug.

"It was hard for awhile, dealing with my best friend turning into what he did. He was put into Arkham for the next ten years before escaping. But once he escaped, he wasn't Jack anymore."

My mom stops again to take a deep breath. "He was…"

"The Joker," I finish for her.

So should I continue? Sorry if some things are unclear. I will give more background in the next chapter. I have some great ideas for this, but I want to hear your thoughts first!