Never in my life would I have though that I would be here, gripping onto a sliver of hope-literally. My knuckles were turning white as I painfully held onto the edge of an expensive balcony, the city busy under my terrified body. The cars went on, people continued walking, oblivious to what was happening right above them. Maybe, if one of them saw me, just barely holding onto life, I would have a chance. Or maybe, they are all the same, just like the Joker claimed. "Everyone is evil under the pretty layers, no one truly loves. Love is a joke, just like me and you." Maybe the world was truly hideous, just painted carefully with the most expensive of makeup to hide it's true colors, I thought as my fingers turned numb. The only hope that Gothom City still had was somewhere far away, the Batman, who was a mystery to everyone, wasn't here to save me, just like the Joker had said. Perhaps, the only things in this world that are really true, are the evil things. I was having trouble believing in good at the moment.

Those were my last thoughts, as my hands finally gave way, exhausted and numb from the winter chill. I closed my eyes and waited for the pain, but all I felt was the cold air on my skin and everything went black.

I woke up with legs tangled in silk sheets, my head resting on the side of a warm bed, pillows thrown around on the floor and end of the bed. This is most certainly not Heaven, I thought as I looked around. As wonderful as the room was, I doubted that my head would hurt this bad if it were truly Heaven, and judging by the lack of fire...no, not Hell.

The room was nicely furnished, art hung on the wall and knick-knacks that looked to be from another country stood proudly on a wooden shelf. Very homey, I thought as I stretched my aching limbs, but far too expensive to be truly comfortable to live in. I stood and tested the waters, not trusting my wobbly legs quite yet. I wrapped the smaller of the two quilts around myself and took a nervous peek out of the window. Where am I?

It was dreary outside, but it seemed fitting. Clouds hung low and the windowpane was wet with raindrops of different sizes. If I didn't know any better, I would swear I had been transported from Gothom City to England. All I saw was land, rolling hills and green grass. A garden was placed in the corner of the vast land, flowers peeking out happily despite the weather. Bats flew overhead, seeming comfortable here and clashing with the cheery garden. Darkness and light, I thought. Whoever owned this place seemed to enjoy clashing. There was definitely no woman's touch here, other than the garden, but even it seemed to display a classy flair, not so feminine with it's stone statues and other decorations.

Walking away from the window, I pushed the curtain back to hide the sky from my sight. A set of clothes had been set out on a dresser, brand new with tags hanging and all in my size. I refrained from looking in the mirror above the dresser, knowing I probably looked like a homeless person as opposed to a young and fiery college student. The Joker had his ways of taking smiles off of people's faces and replacing them with cloudy eyes and frowns.

Taking a deep breath, I took a step outside and gasped at what I saw. Somehow, it seemed that I landed myself in a castle. The walls were covered in a light tan color, big windows with patterned curtains and plush couches. On the other side, there were several classy white doorways, chandeliers hanging over me. The tile was cold on my barefeet and I found myself wondering where my shoes went.

"Ah! Madam, so happy to see you awake!" A British voice said, I turned around and saw an older man walking briskly towards me, a warm smile on his face. "Hello?" My voice wasn't as strong as I had hoped for, but my throat was so sore. "Oh, pardon my manners. It's been so long since we've had a guest! I'm Alfred, Alfred Pennyworth. I'm the butler here at Wayne Manor." Wayne Manor? How did I get here, of all places?

"H-how did I get here? All I remember was falling, and then..." I trailed off, not sure what had truly happened after I had finally let go.

"The Batman, he saved you. He and Master Wayne know each other rather well and he knew that this would be the safest place." He nodded to himself, taking my arm in his gently and smiling. "I'm sure you are worried about the Joker and his , all of them are gone." He said wistfully, turning a corner and opening an elegant door as a frown decorated his face. He seemed sad, talking about the deaths, although I couldn't understand why.

"Gone?"

"Well, Batman has made a vow to never kill anyone, but I believe the majority ended up dying from injuries from the Joker's abuse. As for the man in charge, however, well, the Joker killed himself. Batman left him hanging, right where he found you. The SWAT team found him but before they could take him to Arkham, he had broken his own neck." I cast my eyes downward, picturing the evil man dead. It felt too good to be true, freedom was at my fingers but I was too terrified to truly do anything about it. He deserved the death, especially after killing so many innocent people and leaving me to die along with the other captives.

I thought on Alfred's words as we continued the long trek through the mansion in silence and finally, it seemed as if we had arrived to our destination. "I'm sure Master Wayne would like to see you awake and bright-eyed, he was quite worried when you first came in." At the thought of meeting the Bruce Wayne, I grew nervous. I looked like a drowned rat and felt like one, too, but I had to thank him. After all, he did take me into his home at a short notice.

"Alfred, before we do that...how long have I been asleep?" Smirking, he opened the door and let out a laugh. "Well, you've been out of the loop for two days, although you have been holding full conversations so we aren't quite sure how rested you truly are." Great. One of the most famous and rich people in the world got to hear my insane ramblings in my sleep. Just what I wanted. I had hoped-in vain, apparently-that my exhaustion would keep me from the annoying sleep habit but I wasn't so lucky, it proved.

The worry over my sleep patterns flew away as Bruce Wayne turned around and let out a sigh, a smile taking over his face. "Good to see you up, we were worried." His voice was gruff and low, an accent just barely there. I had heard that he was born and raised in Gothom City, but his accent nearly matched Alfred's. Perhaps his butler had rubbed off on him.

"Thank you for everything, I can't imagine how much I've put you both out and I appreciate the kindness so much. I just wish I could find the Batman and thank him as well." I let out a nervous laugh, peeking at the large grand piano that Bruce stood next to. "Don't worry about that, it was no problem. As for Batman..I'll pass the word along." Bruce said, a humored smirk growing on his face.

"Sir, I believe I'll start lunch. Any requests?" Alfred had been so quiet and his voice startled me, apparently the Joker experience had made me more fidgety than I had thought.

"Make whatever is easiest." He replied. "And what about you, Miss?" Realizing he was now speaking to me, I shook my head. "Oh, no. I should leave soon, I don't want to be a bother."

Bruce sat at the piano, rolling his eyes. "You've been sleeping in a room by yourself for two days, you haven't been a bother. Besides, I'm sure you're hungry. Stay for a little while and let yourself heal from everything. We had to get a doctor out to stitch a few cuts on your stomach and he said that you need to take it easy for awhile, you need to relax."

As much as I wanted to argue, I knew he was right. I had been out on my own for almost ten years and I didn't like relying on people, especially people who I barely know, and I felt uncomfortable just staying for lunch, but I had my doubts about my physcial and emotional capability. My legs were still aching and apparently, I have several injuries that I hadn't noticed yet. Perhaps it would be better to hang low for awhile. Besides, I was still worried over who could be out there...the news may report that everyone is dead, but I felt sick just thinking about the potential of more villains lurking around unseen.

I had just looked death in the eye two days ago, I had been brave and I had survived, but it wasn't something that I wanted to do again.

"If you insist, Mr. Wayne."

Lunch was a quiet affair, much different than I had expected but nice nonetheless. We all sat around a small table in the large kitchen, apparently something that was rarely used. Mr. Wayne sat at the head and Alfred next to him, while I sat in the middle of the left side. I wasn't part of the family and I wasn't even a friend, just someone that was there, and I didn't want to intrude. Despite both of the men's reassurances and insistence, I still felt like I was in the way and

I was eager to return to normal life outside of the drama. Maybe I'd go on a vacation, somewhere far, far, far away from Gothom City and all of it's crime.

Alfred and Mr. Wayne kept the table from being awkward and overly silent, though. Their conversations hardly ever strayed from business, but I saw that they had a tight relationship and guessed that they were more like father and son than butler and boss. Mr. Wayne never seemed to ask much of him, and even stood to do the dishes himself and let Alfred take a break. Once Alfred left the room, I jumped up to help with the simple chore. For a few moments, we worked in silence. He washed and I dried. Every so often, he asked me something regarding the capture and near death, obviously trying to ease into the conversation, which I was glad for. It wasn't something I wanted to jump into.

"The Joker...his henchmen, they really are gone, right?" I asked slowly, fearing the answer. I honestly don't know what I would do after this if even one of them were still alive.

"I promise," He started, taking the towel from my hands. "They are all gone, I've personally seen them. They are going to be buried very soon. You don't have to worry anymore." He hung the towel on a hook above the sink and picked the dry dishes up from the sink drain, going from cabinet to cabinet until all of the dishes were in their place. He, like Alfred, seemed disheartened at the fact that they died, and before long, I couldn't stand my curiosity and had to ask.

"You seem upset about the deaths, not to sound heartless...but didn't they deserve death after what they put people through?" Mr. Wayne let out a breath and pushed up on the counter, folding his hands and rubbing a thumb over part of a small scar. "They deserved it, but I would rather them rot in prison, have the chance to think about what they did...maybe it wouldn't make a difference." He paused, seeming to think on his words. "Death seems to be an easy way out. It was done the second they took their last breath, I'm sure they aren't happy in Hell right now though." He laughed emptily and looked at me carefully, searching my eyes until I diverted my attention to something else other than him.

"All I care about is knowing that they are gone and can't hurt anyone anymore. That's the important thing, right?" Apparently finished with his speech, he hopped off of the counter and threw me a crooked smile. "I've never liked clowns, anyways."

I spent the rest of the day talking to Mr. Wayne, who had apparently taken the day off from work. He was surprisingly easy to get along with and didn't seem as self-centered and rude as the tabloids made him out to be. I had almost expected him to follow along with his playboy persona and go party that night, honestly...it is Saturday night, but he seemed content on the couch with a book in his hands and someone to converse with. I most certainly wasn't like his typical female company. I wasn't hideous by any means, but compared to the models that he kept around, I was below average.

So far, I had seen no proof of him being a playboy or even a rude person. He was quiet, seemingly humble and down-to-earth. Even his home displayed the simpleness that he seemed to radiate from inside. The manor was gorgeous and obviously expensive, decorated in the finest things, but throughout the house, there were pictures of his deceased family, sticky notes placed on the refridgerator and various books placed around. He was dressed casually, barefeet propped up on the coffee table before him and his black t-shirt straining against his muscular arms as he crossed them. Outside of the manor, he displayed himself as a proper, rich man who spent his time with fancy women and expensive cars, but on the inside, he seemed to be a normal person. Either he hid his true colors from me extremely well, or he was hiding himself from the world in a rather extravagant way. I was determined to figure out who Bruce Wayne truly was inside of his built-up exterior.

But as the night went on, he seemed to grow tense and was constantly taking peeks outside of the window and pacing, Alfred made a joke about him ruining the floor with his pacing, but Mr. Wayne paid him no mind. Finally, unable to take it any longer, I stood from my place on the couch and walked next to him. "Perhaps I should call a cab now and go home, I can tell something's wrong and I don't want to be a bother." Crossing his arms, he turned to me and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just have a few things on my mind. You don't need to call a cab, I can drive you home if you feel alright to be alone. I don't want you to leave unless you know you can handle it." And with that, he loosened his posture and uncrossed his arms, shuffling his feet.

"I'd appreciate the ride. I'm sure I'll be fine, I need to get back into my normal life again and put this in the past." But truthfully, I was scared to death of being alone again.

With a nod, he excused himself and walked upstairs to go get his keys and shoes. I looked down at my barefeet with disdain and sighed. "Alfred, do you know what happened to the rest of my clothing?" I asked curiously, not even sure if I wanted to know the answer.

"Your shoes were gone when Batman caught you, I expect that they fell to the street as you let go of the banister. According to the police, there were several articles of bloodstained and cut up shirts and pants in a secluded part of the basement that you and the others were in, but they were taken away for evidence."

At the mention of the basement, I held back a shiver. We were kept in a small, dark basement for what seemed like forever. Water dripped from the tiny window until someone came in and placed bricks inside of the slot, taking away our last bit of hope of an escape. It was cold, and the henchmen seemed to enjoy watching us freeze half to death, and took away articles of clothing each day until we were in tears from the cold air. Mr. Wayne walked back down, two sets of keys in his large hands. "Ferrari or Porsche?" He said wryly, holding them both up with a smile.

And there's the Bruce Wayne I heard about...

We ended up in the Porsche, driving recklessly fast until I told him to slow down if he didn't want me to puke all over the creamy leather seats. Classical music played quietly in the background, filling the car with a peaceful ambiance as the street lights lightened the small car. We pulled into the city and I realized that I had to actually give him the address. My home wasn't something I was proud of, and if it were at all possible, I would've told him to drop me off somewhere before we got to my actual destination, but walking through the Narrows at night wasn't exactly something I wanted to do.

I told him the address and noticed him tense up, but he kept driving, albeit much silently. We had managed to hold up several conversations from everything to cars to his surprising music choice-Beethoven wasn't exactly something that I expected from playboy, billionaire, philanthropist Bruce Wayne-but after that, he bit his lip and said nothing, obviously uncomfortable, although if it was just from the shear fact that he was in the Narrows or if he didn't want to drop a woman off here, was beyond me.

"It's really not that bad." I lied through my teeth, trying to comfort him. "I live in the nicer area." Another lie, and I knew he could see through it. "No, Sarah. It is that bad. I've been in the Narrows, I've known people to die here, get mugged here, I've almost been mugged here. I'll drop you off, but I won't be happy about it. I just helped you from one bad situation and I feel like I'm putting you right back in another one." I kept quiet after that, unwilling to argue even more. I had no choice. I had a job, but not a very good one. I gave music lessons to children, and it paid, just not well. Once I finished up my college degree, maybe I could escape from my small apartment, but until then, I was stuck.

We finally got to my apartment building and I put a hand on the door, ready to open it until Bruce locked it back. "Here, take this. Call me anytime if you need me for any reason." He wrote a number on the back of a business card, red pen ink marking the obviously expensive card. "This is my business number," He pointed to the front where a fax and office number was written next to the Wayne Enterprise logo. "And this is my cellphone, you can reach me quicker on the cell. Like I said, anytime, wake me up or interrupt a meeting, I don't care."

"Thanks for everything, I can't even begin to express how much it means to me." He unlocked the car door, hopping out before I had a chance to even leave my seat and opened my door. "Stay safe, no more clowns, right?" His tone was light, but I knew there was a deeper meaning to it. "No more, I don't really like them, either."

If I could help it, I would never see another clown again.

I woke up in a cold sweat, hair drenched as if I had just taken a shower. I jolted up and threw my legs over the bed, turning my light on and sighing. Another sleepless night...

My eyes were framed with dark circles, looking like I had coated them with dark eyeshadow. They had once been a bright, shining blue, but the Joker had stolen that. Now, they seemed so dull and lifeless. On the outside, I looked normal, but on the inside, I was a ticking time bomb, just waiting to blow up. I hadn't slept a full 8 hours in a week, since I was at Wayne Manor and apparently slept for two whole days. I had contemplated therapy, but I knew I couldn't talk about what happened, not yet, after my friend Stacy had tried to mention it and I went into a panic attack. I needed help desperately, someone to stay with me and calm my nerves, but the only friend I had in Gothom City was Stacy and she already worked long hours at the hospital. I couldn't ask her to sacrifice more sleep just so I could get a couple hours of it. My only help was coffee, which I needed desperately right now. Might as well start my day, I thought as I took a peek at the clock next to my bed. 9 in the morning, a nice time to wake up if you weren't constantly tossing and turning during the night.

I walked to the kitchen and fixed a pot of coffee, making sure it was extra strong. I had a job interview to go to, and I still had work this afternoon. Five kids, two different instruments. It would be an interesting day, to say the least. As I sipped from my large mug, I crossed the small room and picked up my cellphone, planning to call Stacy and see if she wanted to meet up for breakfast, when it started ringing. Unknown caller...that was how the stalking from the Joker started. I knew that if I didn't answer, it would continue...if it was something bad. So, I took a deep breathe and accepted the call, closing my eyes and waiting for the inevitable.

As soon as I heard the warm voice, I sank onto my couch and let a tear run down. The Joker may have been dead, but he was still ruling my life.

"Sarah? Are you okay?" It was Bruce, which surprised me. I didn't remember giving him my number, nor did I think he would ever even think of me again. After all, he was the Prince of Gothom and I was some poor girl living in the Narrows.

"I'm fine, sorry. How did you get my number?" I collected myself and stood back up, dumping the rest of the coffee in the sink. I was antsy enough as it is, I doubted the caffeine would help as much as I would've hoped.

"I have my ways." He said with a laugh. "I was wondering if you'd like to get some breakfast or something, I'd like to ask you a few questions about what happened with the Joker if you would be okay with that. Plus, Commissioner Gordon found your wallet in the bag of stuff for evidence, figured you'd want to pick that up and I thought I'd save you some money from the vultures that are cab drivers."

"That sounds nice. I have to be at a job interview at 3, when could you be here?" I could hear a door closing in the background and he h'mmed quietly. "Give me 30 minutes?"

"That's fine with me. Thanks again." He hung up and I ran to me room, thoughts of a breakfast with Stacy completely forgotten. What on earth do you wear to breakfast with a billionaire? Not that I had many choices...

I threw open my closet door, snickering at the stomps from the floor above me as it hit my wall loudly. Mr. Piney, a grumpy old man who lived to yell at kids and, apparently, me, continued the hissy fit for another second but I shrugged it off, pulling a blouse off of a bright pink hanger and grabbing a pair of jeans that were folded on my dresser from laundry a couple nights ago. I didn't want to dress overly fancy, but I didn't want to look like, well, a hobo. I was thankful that I took a shower yesterday.

I pulled on a pair of brown boots once I was done dressing, grimacing at my wild hair. Not much could be done with my blonde curls, something that I quite unhappily inherited from my mother. I had always envied my sister's straight and easy to deal with hair. She had become the spitting-image of our father, who died five years ago just blocks away from my small apartment. His murder had been the most popular news story within thousands of miles quickly, but his murderer was never found. Our life had turned upside down, and we struggled for so long to get a sense of normalcy back. It seemed that just when my lfie took a good turn, it became haywire and dangerous once more. If only Batman had been around five years ago...

My thoughts were interrupted by the doorbell. In typical Narrows fashion, it was old, cheap and broken, resulting in a whiny ring throughout the small place I had grown to call home.

I finished up my makeup, managing to accidentally smudge my eyeliner right before I left the room. I grabbed a tissue out of the bathroom and hurriedly fixed my mistake, running to the door quicker as he rang the doorbell again.

"Mr. Wayne! Sorry I took so long." I said as I opened the door, revealing a much nicer dressed man than I had seen in the manor. He wore a pair of black slacks and a white button up, sleeves pushed up to his elbows to reveal muscular arms covered in various scars. Interesting, I thought as I took a slightly longer peek at them. "Sarah, I told you-call me Bruce."

"Right, sorry again." I laughed nervously, trying to get comfortable in his presence again. It was much easier to feel at home next to the casual Bruce as opposed to the completely business man version. "Let me go grab my purse."