Samantha Carson was a good cop and, to say the least, multi-talented. She had grown up with her mother, father and three brothers. Her mother was a nurse, her father a cop, the oldest boy had been a mechanic, the second oldest a gun nut gone military as an EOD specialist, and the younger boy a proficient computer hacker. Samantha had learned all she could from each before joining the police force, including basic fighting which was refined in her training.

Sam had medium red hair (refer to Willow from Buffy) and deep green eyes. She was tall and slender with average muscle tone, due to years of gymnastics. When she joined the Gotham Police she gained muscle due to training and constant personal work. After having proved herself a more than capable officer she was transferred by personal request. Duty placed her in Arkham Asylum as a guard in one of the most dangerous cell blocks. The block she was assigned to was the current home of the recently apprehended Joker. The newly appointed commissioner, Jim Gordon, had found her capable of the task. It was overnight shifts which should have been easy enough to handle.

This was before she was discovered missing and presumed dead after a prison break, resulting in Joker's escape. Our story begins here. Arkham Asylum, one month after The Joker's apprehension.

"Arkham is more than just it's own island, Sam. It's like it's own little world. Isolated from the city by two rocky coasts and the only natural harbors available are separated by thirty miles and only light craft can make the trip due to the... Wildlife. Dropping someone into Arkham has been the equivalent in this town to kicking them out of the city, and existence for those who never come back." Jim Gordon had known this girl for years. Watched her grow up. Heck, she was as much his daughter as she was his old partner's. "I've had my say on how I feel about this assignment, but it went through. You will report for duty next Friday. I recommend getting out there at least once to get a feel for the place, make sure you can do the job. You've got a lot of training in you. More than you might realize. I have faith in your talents to get you back from that sinkhole. Do us all proud, girl."

Having the safety of his closed off office, the only place she would ever treat him as anything other than the commissioner. "I understand what I'm up against, sir. I'm ready to take this by the horns." she paused for a second. "Thanks for the chance, Uncle Jim." a small smile touched her lips.

This was the scene that replayed in her head as the boat reached the island. She climbed out, thanked its captain and headed to the building described in her assignment. When she reached the guards she showed her badge. "Officer Samantha Carson, newly assigned. I need to speak with your C.O."

"That'd be Warden Barlin, ma'am." The guard was obviously at her chest from behind the card. Then, he smiled widely and handed the card back. "Welcome aboard, Samantha."

She took back her badge. "Mind retrieving him for me? Might as well make yourself useful since you have so much time to stare."

That made him blush and he scratched his neck and chuckled. "Sorry, ma'am. Couldn't help it. I'll get you a ride up to the facility." He spent about half a minute on his radio. "Should be here in a few minutes. Can I offer you some water while we wait?"

"No thank you. Think I've had my fill just getting out here."

"No kidding." He looked her over again, this time not so much sexually, but as someone getting a feel for how dangerous someone felt. "If you didn't have that little smirk, you could be pretty scary."

"I hope a lesson learned before making unprofessional actions."

"Hey, low-blow. Guess I kinda had it coming, though. How'd you like academy? GCPD still go to the paintball match before graduation?"

She grinned. "Was similar to BMT, from how my brother described it. And yes, they still go. I graduated some time ago, but they still do it."

He nodded as some headlights appeared. "I got away with the worst of it my year. This is you, though. Be careful with this one. Miller can be a pain at times. Sorry about, well, you know. Earlier."

She nodded. "Keep your head on straight. Thanks for the help." She went to the vehicle, got in and allowed introductions and idle chatter during the ride. The sooner she finished with the guards the better. She just wanted to report to Barlin and get to work. This was the biggest assignment she'd been given, she didn't want to let down the commissioner nor her father. In a few minutes, she stood outside the warden's office. His secretary, a peppy blonde, had phoned him and his thin frame came up to the glass.

"Ah, there's Miss Carson." He held out a hand to her. "How'd you like the trip out? Gotham Bay isn't too choppy tonight, is it? I hardly get to leave."

She took his hand. "Not too bad, sir. Enough to shake someone who isn't used to boating." She carried her hat under her left arm as she spoke.

"Well, come on, I'll give you a tour of the place." And he did. From the guard towers to the cells, she had been shown all the ins and outs of the compound. Then it was back to the administrative area to get her in the system. She knew she's need to know everything about the island. The tour was a good start, but should anything happen... well, she wanted to be prepared. She waited patiently for her in processing to finish. Her badge was finally handed to her as was her assignment, which that night was easy. She walked the block, making sure everyone was sleeping. At the very least quiet. As she passed each cell she took a moment to take in appearances, she'd go through bio files later. She finally peered in on Joker. Matted green hair, long scars on his face. This was the serial killer no one wanted her around back in Gotham. It was a dangerous case a month or two ago. Poor dent, all those officers and civilians. She wouldn't end up like them. She turned and started off down the rest of the block. At one door, the inmate threw up, some of it splattering on her uniform.

She paused briefly before moving on. Meeting with one of the other guards she asked "He sick or just problematic?" as she attempted to clean off her uniform. The smell was horrid, but she managed to remove most of it.

"Depends on who you ask. If I had to eat the gruel they serve here, personally, I'd puke it up all the time too." He gestured in a direction. "They have spare uniforms in the locker rooms."

"Thanks. Cover me a minute." She hurried off to change. To her distaste, the only available uniform was a little tight. It fit, to her curves, but it was clean. She went back to her post. On the way back, she'd receive a number of cat-calls and lewd propositions from the inmates. One in particular stood out to her, because it wasn't rude.

It was Joker's voice that stood apart. "I liked the other look. Personally, a girl should leave something to surprise me with."

She continues on, her baring never wavered. However, Joker's remark had intrigued her. Either he was being genuine or mocking her, she didn't know. But she had to be careful around him. When she reached her post, she noticed the guards eying her. "Stop staring, and not a god damned word."

The rest of the shift went by with little incident, as none of the other guards seemed to want her to come to harm. Her relief in the morning, however, was an hour late. The late release didn't bother her. Since she couldn't leave the island, work and research would be probably the only thing to keep her mostly sane. Joker, noticing that she wasn't as droll as the usual guard that came through here, decided she'd be one to watch.

Once finally off duty, she instantly washed her uniform. The lingering smell of puke wasn't her most favorite of smells. From there, she did some geological research on the island before finally turning in to be fresh for the next night's shift. She'd find that much of the island was hard stone, and a network of caverns and sewers that interconnected. No maps would be open to the public, naturally, but she may be able to find something in the asylum archives.

The next night she was up, dressed, and doing a sweep 20 minutes before her shift was to start. She wanted to see what she'd need to finish what the previous guard may have failed to do. The cell block was a hair's width from anarchy. The guard was hanging out in one of the cells, while the inmates were doing as they pleased. The only one sitting calmly was the one with the scared over ear to ear grin. She walked over to the guard, kicked the chair out from under him and overturned the table. "Ya got some fucking nerve." A Jersey accent appeared in her voice. She turned to the inmates, a flame in her eyes." Get back where ya belong! All a ya!" She turned back to the floored guard. "I got half a mind ta report ya. But I don't think somethin' like this'll happen again, will it?"

"Definitely one to watch." Joker's grin doubled as he watched the guard on the floor plead like the finger of God was flicking him off. Sam supervised the "clean up" as all the inmates settled down. She walked the block once, noticing Joker's good behavior, she continued on and logged in for her shift.

Over the next several months, things went normally. Well, as normal as they can be for an asylum. Joker had something new to say to her almost everyday. He hardly said much of anything, but he always spoke to her. She wouldn't give him the benefit of a response, but after quite some time, she was starting to quiver. Her faith in the justice system was failing. It was December, and Sam was prepared for leave. She had arranged as soon as she got there to be able to go home for Christmas. The day could not have gone worse. The inmates were worse than usual, and the guards were in a foul mood. Many of them were staying on the island, some of them haven't been home in quite a while. She was walking the block before lights out when she passed by a disgruntled Joker. He hadn't seen nor heard her coming. He was talking to himself and Sam managed to hear him say "Sometimes I just want to lock them all in and burn the place down."

As she passed she answered with, "You're not the only one." It was the only response he'd ever gotten from her. Before he could say anything back, she was already down the hall.

"So," he thought. "She was listening all along." The next day, she was gone.

A few weeks later she'd finally return. Joker hadn't seen her yet but was ready to see her again. She was interesting, a like mind he could possibly relate to, if not mold to his will. That evening, he sat there sharpening a pencil in his cell. He only looked up when he heard mayhem start up. He hadn't set up anything, so naturally he got up to see what was going on. Full blown chaos had erupted. Guards were trying to take control of the situation but seemed unable to control the mass riot of inmates. Moments later, his door opened. Samantha was standing there in uniform, completely unharmed. "C'mon, we gotta go." She knew they had some time to spare, the riot was all throughout the asylum. However, she didn't want to waste time. The sooner they left, the better.

He grabbed her, pulled her close and held the razor he was sharpening his pencil with to the corner of her mouth. "Hello," He paused. "Beautiful. Wanna know how I got these scars?" Sure she'd let him out, and she was interesting enough. But he was free now. What did he need her for?

She stared at him, eyes locked on his, her face serious. "You can tell me later, we ain't got time for this."

He blinked. "Oh, well. Let me get my things." He grabbed his pencil and followed her out. "You were planning a later?" She didn't answer as they fought their way through the riot. Anyone that got in their way they killed so no one could tell what happened.

She led him through tunnels and caves, across the bay and into dry clothes. She'd had scuba gear stowed and ready just for this. But why? Guiding him through Gotham's slithering underbelly, they arrive at the warehouse district. She take shim down a side street and to a back door. She enters and waits for him to enter, then closes the door behind him. Light filled the room with sudden force. Once his eyes adjusted, he was able to see a picture window overseeing an old club. The room was now recognizable as an office furnished like the kitchenette and living room of an apartment. Sam tossed her hat and coat to the side and plopped onto the couch, crossing her legs. "Dere's food, first aid and enough ammunition to supply a small platoon in Iraq for months. And it's all completely under the radar."

"You're worth keeping around. I just decided."

"Well, that's good news for me." She grinned. "So, about those scars."

"How about show and tell? You can go first." He absently chewed on his cheek.

"Well in that case, this might take a while."

She went on to point out and explain various scars. Gun shots, knives, glass, dogs, tazers, riots, shootouts, the list went on. At one scar on the side of her ribcage he stopped her. "Didn't I give that one to you?"

"Yea. Third week in. Was forced off duty for a few weeks." The scar was almost a foot long and half a centimeter across. "There's a few others, but they're from rough and tumble when I was a kid. Nothing interesting." She almost had to fully strip just to show all her battle marks from her service with GCPD.

"Playin hard to get with those, hm? Well be that way." He goes to show her all of his own, save the ones hidden by the boxers he wasn't wearing, those he left unexplained. "So, what's on the T.V.?"

"It's basic cable, so not much I'm sure. The news might be on."

"Well then, let's tap into the misinformation super highway." He flipped through three separate "skinimax" channels before hitting the nightly news. It took a few days before anything came up about the Arkham riot. "Hey, Mistah Jay. They're talkin' about the riot at Arkham." The news cast went on to mention that Joker was on the loose and a guard had gone missing and is pressumed dead. Sam's face came up on the screen. "The family is planning the service for a week from tomorrow in Samantha's memory."

"Aww. How predictably sweet. Wanna crash your own funeral?"

"Would be best if I didn't. They'll all want to know how I escaped, etc. They'll know I helped ya then. I couldn't put them through that along with fakin' my own death. What good am I to ya in jail?"

"I'm beginning to wonder what good you could be for me where ever. Because right now, you're like me. Tabula Rasa, blank slate. No history but the one you choose for yourself. Question is, 'Who do you want to be'?"

"At this point, Mistah Jay, I think the real question is 'who can't I be anymore'? Then followed by 'who can I be'? Want is a luxury in my current state of death."

"Well put. Get back to me when you get it figured out."