SexyJokerLovers:Okay, so this is my attempt to write an awesome Joker fanfic based on Heath Ledger's Joker. So, long story short, he was in Arkham for about three months, and got out recently, but no one knows about it. Now, this is from the point of view of an innocent girl named Jill.

Freedom. That was all I longed for. And now I had it. I was leaving Gotham for good, never to return to it. Ever since I got sought out by the New York times, it felt like a huge weight has been lifted off of my chest. Gotham just had too many memories. Too many wounds that never healed.

I would have left right after college, except, being the procrastinator that I am, put it off until I either had a good enough reason or the money to. For most of my life, I've lived between the middle and lower class of Gotham, which meant that I wasn't poor, but I didn't have money often. When I graduated form high school, I was offered a full scholarship to Gotham University for my excelled grades in math and Writing. Once there, I majored in journalism, and thus began my career as a reporter here.

The pay is decent, and I get to write about all the goings on in Gotham. it always gives me a thrill because I was given the crime section of the paper, and I always had the low down and secret information on criminal activities and mischief. Once I saved up enough money, I planned on hitting the road. I was just going to drive, any place I wanted, just to get away. But, I sat down and thought it out, and determined that I would probably not make it in a new city, with no job, and no where to live. So I kept on waiting for a better opportunity to come along.

Now it's here, and I can't wait to get out of this rat hole. Living here for sixteen years was enough for me. Simply the thought of me, getting out of this place I despise so much, gave me Goosebumps. My heart rapidly began to beat as I deepened the thought. I've never liked Gotham. Ever since I moved here when I was nine, I hated it. The air was polluted, still is, and a large mob scene was located here. I went back to thinking of my new life I was going to start. I tried to determine where I would live, if I should change my appearance or attitude, or if I should become one of those dog-purse people. I decided against the dog thing, and the changing of myself, but I felt content on a place I would live. It would be a more high class place with all the basics, a bedroom, living room, kitchen, bathroom, etc. I envisioned my apartment on a top floor, with a balcony that over looks all of New York. and with the raise I was getting with new job, there's no doubt I'll be able to afford something classy. Anything would be better than the rundown apartment I live in. I can literally hear rats crawling in the walls at night. It used to keep me up all night, but I soon became able to handle it.

I was just given the news about my being recruited earlier this morning, and was given the rest of the day off. I had rushed out of the office completely giddy and excited. I came straight home, not knowing what to do first. I jumped around quite a bit, probably making the guys underneath me question my sanity. I then grabbed a pint of rocky road ice cream, my most favorite in the world, and began to search apartments on my laptop, and have been doing that ever since. I've found some that are perfect, with a great view of the city, and aren't around any crime related areas.

I still have three weeks before they want me in New York, so I bookmark a the few apartments that I fancied, and took myself out to lunch.

I hopped into my blue pries, and drove off to my destination that was unknown to me, After a while of aimlessly driving around in circles, I decided to stop at Hyde park, Gotham's best one, which came equipped with it's own sandwich cart. I find myself often coming here when I don't know what to do. Or I come when I'm starving. They have really good sandwiches. it's probably one of the only things in Gotham that I actually enjoy.

I walked up to Pete, who pushes the cart, and I always talk to. I get my usual B.L.T. We chat a bit, but all we really seem to talk about is the weather, which is beautiful today. Perfect for a long walk.

When I finish my sandwich, I head down the park's cobblestone trail, taking in how beautiful this day was. I jest couldn't get over how beautiful it was! I normally never noticed, but the excitement brought on today has enhanced my senses, making me take in everything I come across in extreme detail.

The grass had never looked greener, the air didn't have it's usual trashy polluted scent, and everyone ii glanced at seemed to have a wide smile on their face. I could see a mom cradling her baby, kids sliding down the slides, and a boy throwing a Frisbee to his dog. They must also had something amazing happen to them.

If I hadn't been so deep in thought about everyone else's day, I would have heard the footsteps that seemed right behind me, or the camera clicks in my ear. I know that since this is a public park, there are bound to be many people walking and taking pictures, but this felt different. Like someone was following me. Once I began to notice it, uneasiness grew around me, and the giant grin plastered on my face diminished.

Every so often, I would stop and glance around, pretending to tie my shoes or stretch, so I could determine whether or not someone was following me. And sure enough, there was. From the occasional glances I got, I could make out a man, wearing gray sweats, even though it's like ninety-five degrees outside, holding a camera. I knew he was following my by the way he stopped whenever I stopped, always kept his distance from me, and would pretend to take pictures of the sky or the trees every time I snuck a peek at him. I could feel his eyes on me, for whatever reason that was. He seemed content on snapping a lot of pictures of me. So, I began walking just a slight faster, into a power walk. Hopefully he wouldn't notice my change in pace. I could hear the mystery man as he began to whistle oh so casually. Typical Hollywood stalker.

I quickly made my way to the end of the park, which was the opposite side of my car. I didn't want to lead the mystery man to my car, for he would definitely either follow me when I leave or jot my license plate number down and come find me afterward. Instead I headed into the many buildings located in this part of the city. These many buildings formed almost a maze, and I've gotten lost in them many times. But since I've been through them a lot, I know my way around every nook and cranny. With any luck, my stalker hasn't been through here as much, and will get lost by the first couple of turns I make.

I quickly dart around every corner my eyes land on. Each one looks the same, and I can hear the mystery man running and grunting to try and find me, I make sure he doesn't, pacing myself. Even though I was paying attention to my surroundings, just the thought of someone following me made me forget everything. I feel so stupid. This might be a life or death situation, and here I go getting myself lost. Luckily, the sounds from the man died off in the distance, and I hope I lost him for good.

I wander around the buildings, trying to catch sight of one that looks recognizable to me. I finally find one that looks familiar to me, and step inside, hopping to find some one that could help me find my way back to the park. It's a restaurant/ bar, that has a very depressing feel to it. It makes me want to leave, but since everyone has already spotted me coming in, it would look weird if I just left, only to get even more lost.

I sat down at their bar counter, and asked the woman who worked there if I could get a mineral water. I had a case of the nerves, and I thought I heard one time on TV. that mineral water helps calm nerves. I hope it does, because my hands are almost shaking violently.

The lady at the counter brings me the glass, curiously watching me as I try to gulp it down. "You okay, sweetie?" She asks me. Must have seen me almost spill the drink from my shaking so bad. I calmly nod my head, and she migrates to the other side of the bar to help out two guys who keep shoving each other. I look around and it seems like everyone in here is rowdy. Shoving and or cursing out one another.

When she comes back around to me, I pay her the one-fifty for the drink, and ask her how to get back to Hyde park. "What you gotta do is go straight down these buildings, make two rights, then a left, and you'll be there." She explain.

"Thank you." I tell her as I head out the door, with everyone's eyes on me. I do as she says, go straight, take two rights, then a left, all while making sure my stalker didn't find me. I grinned as I made my way down through the buildings, coming back to the park. I casually glance around to make sure I wasn't followed, and I give myself the okay to go.

I make my way to the cross walk, when I stumble and almost collapse on the all the familiar man in front of me with sweats and a camera. Luckily, he didn't notice, and started walking ahead. I didn't know what to do, so irrationally I started walking behind him. Hopefully he would keep looking around in front of him, and not look right behind him. if he did, I was dead.

My head began to pound, and my heart started beating rapidly. The adrenaline level increased, and when the mystery man was far enough ahead of me, I spun around to my car, hopped in, and sped off without even thinking. What a rush! Even though the man was stalking me and made me feel uncomfortable, I couldn't escape the rush I got from slipping from his grasp. it seems like every time I'm in a semi-dangerous or dangerous situation and I get away, I always find my crazy self loving the feeling I get.

When I arrived at my apartment, I immediately flopped on my couch, and cracked open my writing journal. My writing journal is my safe haven; I go there when I'm mad, sad, excited, and basically every other emotion a person can feel. It is my passion. I've always had the need to just write a story, even when I was young. I would sometimes get into fights at school when people bullied me because I took my writing journal everywhere I went. I basically write about anything I wanted. My writing has excelled over the years, which is why I guess, from y editors perspective, that I'm such a good writer.

I begin jotting down what had just happened to me, and basically created a full on story out of it. A girl had been stalked for a while, before she was kidnapped and forced into human trafficking. Gruesome, yes. But exciting. I couldn't stop writing about my experience. I was really getting into it, when I look up at the clock, and realize I had spent nearly three hours writing. Well, time flies when you're having fun. it was now six o'clock, and beginning to get dark outside.

I decide to close up shop for the night, and hop in the shower. The feeling of the hot water that soaks my body relaxes my muscles, I didn't really realize how tired I was and wakes me up.

I finish quickly, with only wanting to wash my body. As soon as I get out, I burst out singing any song that comes to my mind. Something I've done since forever. Something about being in a bathroom when no one else is around just makes me want to sings out at the top of my lungs, no matter how bad it sounds. And knowing myself, it will be bad.

I get dressed in my pajamas even though it's only six-twenty. I grab the rest of my rocky road ice cream pint to finish, and plop down onto the couch. I put in a movie, and snuggle into the cushions. I bring my knees into my chest and wrap my arms around them, while eating my ice cream.

I started to doze off at about eight-thirty, so I set down the now empty carton of ice cream, picked up a small blanket I found behind the couch, and snuggled up with it. I was too lazy to get up and go get in my own bed, so I stayed there, slowly drifting of into possibly one of the best nights sleep I've ever had.

I awoke at six-thirty, getting a full ten hours of sleep. I stretch out from being scrunched up on the tiny couch, noticing how relaxed my muscles were, even though they were in an awkward position all night long. it was already light out, and I had to be to work in an hour. And was I thrilled. But only because these were going to be the last days at the paper, before I head off to the New York Times.

I jump up from the couch, and stroll into the kitchen. I grab a bowl out of the cupboard, and went for my usual honey bunches of oats when I stopped dead in my tracks. my eyes widened to the sight of a finely decorated cake sitting atop my kitchen counter. The icing was white with purple flowers all over it, and the writing on the top in red icing is what scared me most of all.

Congrats Jill!

My heart began to pound in my chest, threatening my to throw up. My knees became weak. Someone had broken into my apartment while I was sleeping. Not only that, but the way my name was spelled on the top of the cake frightened me. It was written Jill, short for Jillien, which I was only ever called by from one person, and I haven't seen said person in almost four years.

The thought of that person having broken into my apartment gave me the chills. No, it couldn't be. it had to be someone else. Someone else who called me Jill. I tried to think of someone, anyone who had called that before, but I only thought of the one.

It was definitely that person. As I leaned in, I could smell the deep scent of pineapple. Which is my favorite cake flavor, also only known by that person. And, congrats on what? My new job? Only the guys at the paper know about that. Right?

My heart sank as I glanced at the window behind my couch. it was wide open. They didn't even bother to close it. They wanted me to see how they got in. I waltzed over to the window, trying to regain my composure. I investigated outside, and when I didn't find anything suspicious, I quickly shut the window. Because I knew someone had broke in, just to make sure they weren't still there, I grabbed a small butter knife from the kitchen, and checked around my apartment. I half expected someone to jump out and scare me. I concluded that the person had left, so I went back to the cake. I don't even know what to do with it. I wasn't going to eat it, that's for sure. Knowing said person, it's probably filled with explosives or has been poisoned.

I didn't hesitate when I dumped the cake into the trash. There was no way I was going to die an be kept from this new job. No way.

I poured my bowl of honey bunches of oats and gulped it down, still feeling uneasy. I got dressed, and locked the door and all the windows, hopping nothing like this would ever happen again. I got down to the car, and headed straight for work. I was excited because these were going to be my last weeks at the paper, but fear ripped through my stomach when I thought about the cake.

No, Jillien, just brush it off. But I couldn't. How did they know about the new job? Which I'm assuming is what they were talking about. Don't worry about it. It was nothing. It was nothing. I had to repeat this several times in my head before it got through. and by then I had reached the paper. Hopping my nerves had calmed down, I stepped inside.

As soon as my right foot hit the floor, the weight of the world was no longer on my shoulders. Everyone who I hadn't seen yesterday when I got the news for the job congratulated me now. I made my way to my office, shaking hands with everyone I came in contact with.

When I finally got into my office, my editor, John Benset, shot up out of no where, shoving the newspaper in my face. He was all excited, trying to get me to read it.

"Geez, Benset, calm down." I sprung forward. "I think I would know what's on the front page considering I'm the one who wrote it."

He still shoved it in my face. "No, just read it." Reluctantly, I snatched it out of his hands and peaked at the front. it was not my article on the newly found information on the mob. Instead it read, "Gotham's Own Takes Spot in New York Times Office." With a picture of me, an actual good picture of me, wearing my long brown hair down, my reading glasses, making me look super smart, and a superb interview skirt and jacket.

I couldn't believe I was on the cover. Normally it was my writing, not me, "When did this happen?" I gasped out, leaving my mouth hanging wide open.

"After I released you yesterday. We decided to do a whole article on you and your work." He claimed. I was speechless, I was in shock. I ultimately thought back to the cake, now knowing how the person knew of the job.

With a wide grin, the only thing I could say was, "My article better be front and center tomorrow then." Benset smiled too and nodded. "Of course. We just thought all of Gotham should know just how wonderful our girl is." I thanked him, and he retreated to his office. I sat down in my chair, and read the entire article multiple times. Wow. they really are proud of me here. they mention it about six times. The rest of the article just talks about who I was when I was younger and my love for writing, the articles and stories I've done that were 'exceptional", and what I'm going to be doing in New York.

After I finished looking over the article, I basically spent the whole day at the paper, researching and writing my last article. I didn't have to be in New York for three weeks, but I'm only going to be here for two of them, and they will be used or my last article on a serial killing junkie.

I finished around five o'clock, working two hours longer than I normally do. My fellow reporters along with Benset shanghai me into coming along with them to Linguini's Pizza, to treat me to a congratulations dinner. Linguini's serves, in my opinion, the best pizza in the world. I guess that's another thing I MIGHT miss about Gotham.

I stay only an hour before I leave. Working for eight and a half starts to take it's toll on you. I tell everyone bye and thanks for the pizza, and I head for home. Just beating the rain.

I get home at around six-thirty, and am so tired that I collapse on the floor. The chill of the tile floor makes me jump up soon though. The pizza smell of the pizza mixed with my sweat makes me take to the shower. The water wakes me up for the most part, and I can't help but sing out. I end up singing ABBA's Dancing Queen, because it had been stuck in my head all day, at the top of my lungs. It sounds horrible, and makes me laugh.

I finish washing my hair and step out of the shower. I wrap the towel firmly around my body. I grab my hairbrush and untangle my hair, still singing, before I use it as a microphone. I open the bathroom door to grab my pajamas. I hear a loud laugh, shriek and drop my brush when I see the purple figure sitting on my bed.

What? No, what is he doing here? My pulse increases as he stands up and saunters towards me with his green tinted hair, with and black face, and stretched red lips. It was the clown Prince of Crime, The Joker himself. "Ah, same old Jill." He chuckled.

I was speechless, and couldn't move. I was frozen with fear. "Remember that time I stayed at your house...and you were singing in the shower? That one song I despised so? What was that again?"

I had tried to form the words, but my mouth refused to speak them. I just stood there, awkwardly in my towel, with my heart about to leap out of my chest. "C'mon, Jill. Aren't you going to say anything?" He came closer. "I don't even get a thanks?"

"Thanks...for...what?" I managed to get out between breaths.

"Oh Jill. You know excat-ly what. I may not have seen you in a few years, but I could never forget your undying love for pineapple." I clenched my towel tightly as he crept closer to me. I still didn't know what to say, so I kept quiet as we glared at each other. "You...probably are un-comfort-able. So, why don't you grab somethin and cover up. We have some, catching up to do." He traced his lips with his tongue.

I still looked at him, and never broke my stare as I grabbed some clothes. I tried to find my phone so I could call the police, but the Joker already knew what I was thinking. "Looking... for this?" He held up my phone and doubled over with laughter. Now I couldn't do anything. I quickly tried to figure out something, but the bathroom has no windows to escape out through, and I knew him like the back of my hand. He wasn't going to let me go without a fight.

"Hurry up in there, Jill. Got-ah, some ser-ious stuff to talk about." I quickly composed myself and threw my clothes on. I became angry. I don't understand why he had the nerve to come here and harass me. Did he not forget what he did to me four years ago?

I slowly crept out of the bathroom, only to find him not in my bedroom anymore. I formed my hands into fists, and they began trembling. How dare he come and scare me, then go wander around my apartment. Why was he here? I found myself kicking the door and yelling, trying to take my anger out.

"Whoa. Jill, calm Down. Afraid I would leave without giving ya a goodbye kiss? I'm not...going any-where." I heard his voice come from the living room. Still angry, I dash into the living room, and attempt to push him out the door. "Get out!" I yell as shove him harder. This has no affect on him, because well let's face it, I'm pretty weak. My trying to heave him out must be amusing by the way he tilts his head back and laughs.

When he composes himself, he grabs both of my wrists and shoves me up against the wall. He licks his lips and giggles. "Is that anyway to treat your... best friend?"

This is makes me even angrier. "We are. Not. Best. Friends." I glare at him. "Not anymore Jack." He grabs my left arm, yanking it behind my back, which sends a shooting pain into my elbow.

"I thought I told you... Never. Call. Me. Jack." With each word, he bent my arm back even more.

He let go of me, and I jerked away from him. "What do you want then, Joker?" He chuckled, and tossed me today's paper. Biting the inside of his cheek. "What?" I ask him.

He stepped forward and yanked the paper out of my hands. "What?" He mocks me. "Hm... Let's look shall we. I get the paper this morning... ready to read another brilliant article, written by you of course, on the criminal activities in Gotham." I clench my fists so much that they hurt. "But instead, I see this." He repeatedly jabs his finger at the picture of me. "Not only don't I get to read about how bad our society is... but I get to find out that my, best buddy... is moving to New York."

I nodded my head. "What's it to you?" I snapped, my anger slowly spewing out. He set the paper down, and lunged for me, his hands landing on both sides of my head. "Well... um... I took two hours outta my busy sche-du-el yesterday to make you a cake that showed how happy I was for you. And you thank me, by throwing it in the trash!" He began to yell.

Still pinned against the wall I dared to speak. "It could have been poisoned!" I said as he began to laugh uncontrollably. "God! What is always so damned funny!?" I scream.

"You... actually think.. I would..." Was all he could say in between laughs. "Oh Jill. Don't you know that I would... never hurt my best friend." He slowly calmed down. "Besides. You know I like using knives on my prey. I mean, you should know by all the articles you've written about me."

I couldn't take him anymore. I kneed him in the groin, and pushed him away. "We are not best friends!" I yelled as loud as I could. Hopefully someone would here it and come see what was going on. I tried running out of the apartment, but he was to quick. I had barely reached the doorknob when he grabbed me from behind and held a knife to my throat. A slight whimper came out of my mouth.

"Sh-sh-sh-sh. Oh Jill. You still amuse me so. And... no matter how much you may despise me, you'll always think of me as your friend. Admit it! You still want to believe that I'm still that loser kid you were friends with. Admit... that those where the best fourteen years of your life." I could hear his breath in my ear, and I could feel the rough texture of his scars on my cheek. I tried to break free, but he only chuckled, and held the knife tighter. "Ata-ta-ta. Don't want to... hurt yourself, Jill." I wanted to scream, but as if he knew what I was going to do, he placed his gloved hand over my mouth. "Shush. Now, before I gra-cious-ly take my leave, I'm telling you... that you cannot leave Gotham. If you try, there will be... con-si-quen-ces. And I know, you wont like that."

I couldn't stop my self from asking the question as he removed his hand from my mouth. "Why don't you want me to go?" He spun me around to face him, forcing me to look into his big, brown eyes.

"Because, I'm looking out for you. New York is a very bad place. Way more violence than in Gotham. I don't want to see my girl getting hurt." He chuckled. "And, besides. I'd miss ya too much."

I gave him a look of confusion, before yelling in his face. "Miss me?! How could you possibly miss me?! We haven't seen each other in four years!"

He pulled his arm around my neck in a casual manner, and pulled his face close to mine. "Just because you haven't seen me, doesn't mean I haven't seen you." He pulls out a manila folder from his long purple coat. He pulls out many pictures of me doing various activities. "You're still very photogenic, Jill." He says while laughing.

Before I could think, my hand hit him square in the jaw. This caught him off guard. "You sick... crazy bastard!"

I could see the anger rising within him. He once again pulled out his knife, this time holding it up to my cheek. His tongue slid to the sides of his scars. " I'm not. No, I'm not." He clenched the back of my head with his other hand. "I'm just a man. A man who knows what he wants. And I want... you to stay right here... in Gotham." He pushed me away from him and tossed my phone to me. I just stood there, with my mouth gapping wide open as he climbed up to the window. "Think about what I said. And I'll be seeing you... later." He said before he disappeared out the window and out of my sight.

I quickly shut the window and locked it. There was no use in calling the cops. They wouldn't find him. And he stole my battery. I tried to calm myself down, but his appearance put me on edge. He threatened me not to leave. He is no way my best friend. Not anymore. The only reason I'm taking this job in NY was to get away from the pain and heartbreak he left me with. And I was getting out of Gotham, one way or another.

SexyJokerLovers: So, I hope you liked it. I'm currently trying to write chapter 2. Please review and tell me if I should write more!