A/N: Hello, there. This is my first Dark Knight fic, so please, no flames. Or knives.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot and the character of Jeanette.

And here…we…go!


I screamed as loudly as I could, kicking and punching, trying to get the madmen in white coats off of me. Just who did they think they were? God? No, no, they were the opposite. They were Satan.

"No! No! Get OFF ME!" Now they took a piece of white cloth and wrapped it around my torso. What the heck was this supposed to be?

The madmen opened a door in the long gray hall and tossed into a big, white, padded cell. "No!" I shrieked. They closed the door. I managed to stand up and waddle over to the large metal door. Dang it, I was too short to see through the bars. "SCREW YOU!" I screeched at the door. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I curled up in a ball on the floor. My body shook violently with my silent sobs as I mourned my fate.

Hello. My name is Jeanette. And if you're confused about the scene above, I was being sent to Arkham Asylum for reasons I could not comprehend. And I was only nineteen years old.

First, my father died of alcohol poisoning. After that, my scarred mother left me and my brother, Jack, to fend for ourselves. Then Jack went insane. Now I was being accused of being a complete psychopath.

Suddenly, I had a stroke of insight. Now I knew why I was there.

Those ignorant rich people, all holed up in their cozy penthouses all over Gotham—the judges and police commissioners—were afraid. They thought I really would go crazy. They were worried about their precious money and other material items.

Now they had a reason to be.

My brother hadn't been wrong, after all. I just hadn't been able to see his logic. Now I, too, could fight for a good cause! But what would I call myself? Surely not just Jeanette.

Hmm…the Jester of Injustice? No, too mouthy. Just the Jester?

Yes, I liked that. The Jester, who worked alongside her brother the Joker.

Just then, I heard a crash outside. The door opened and I tensed, ready to spring. A man walked in, wearing a suit and a tan sack on his head. He held out his hand. "Come on!" he ordered.

I wiggled in the straightjacket. "A little help?"

The man turned me around and untied to cloth. Then he took my hand and led me out. In the doorway, I saw a security guard on the floor, knocked out cold. The man started to run. As he ran, he dropped metal cylinders onto the floor.

"What's that?" I asked curiously.

"Laughing gas," he answered. Ah; that must have been what knocked the guard out. I was also what prevented anyone from following us.

Cool.

When we were outside, I demanded, "Who are you?"

"Call me the Scarecrow," he replied. He dragged me to a black van and put me in the passenger's seat. He then proceeded to get behind the wheel.

"Why are you getting me out?" I wondered as he sped away.

"The Joker saw you on GCN and got concerned," said the Scarecrow. "I don't know why, thought. Are you a friend of his, or something?"

"You could say that," I grinned. My brother was okay. He was still looking out for me. I had gotten worried about him when he disappeared. A giddy, happy laughter bubbled up inside me and exploded outward. Soon, I was cackling a high-pitched cackle in my glee.

If I could see the Scarecrow's face, I bet he would have been giving me a strange look. "You okay?" he inquired. I just nodded. My laughter was making it impossible to speak.

We drove through Gotham at top speed. It was a good thing it was nighttime and the cops were asleep. Oh, I knew tales of the Batman, but I refused to believe that we would run into him.

The Scarecrow stopped outside an alley beside a bank. "Hurry, get out and run down the alley. You'll find a manhole. Open it, and climb down. You'll find him."

I got out. "Why to I have to—" My question was cut short when I felt a creepy presence in the air. I turned and ran, not looking back. Something told me that the Batman had come.

I found the manhole, just as the Scarecrow had promised. It was plain, nothing special. Please let this be the right one, I prayed. I pushed it back and began to climb down the ladder. Then I reached up and pulled the plate back into its place.

What I saw down there was beyond description. There was purple and green everywhere. I knew this had to be my brother's place. Purple and green had been his favorite color combination when he was around fifteen or so. It was like an underground mansion. Purple sateen fabric hung over green walls. There was also a mishmash of fancy, purple and green furniture. I liked it here.

I walked until I reached an ornately-carved door. I hesitated, wondering if I should go in. Finally, I decided that it would be best, so I pushed the door open and crept inside.

My brother was sitting at a desk in a purple and green room, opposite a bed with a violet coverlet and emerald pillows.

I froze in place, not sure at all what I should do. Part of me wanted to run to him, and part of me wanted to run away from him. I decided on calling to him. "J—Jack?"

He turned and stood. I tried again. "Jack, is that you?"

"It's not Jack," he said. "Jack doesn't exist anymore. It's the Joker now." He chuckled. My knees thawed out and I sprinted toward him, wrapping my thin arms around him in the tightest hug I could manage.

"Oh, Jack," I whispered. "It really is you."


All right. There's Chapter One. A bit of a shortie, but I couldn't help myself.

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