Disclaimer:/ I don't own anything having to do with chris nolan or batman :]

Her eyes opened and she sucked in a quick breath. She was in a sitting position.

The last thing she remembered was...nothing. She stared across the room at the empty chair. The room had walls filled with double sided mirrors. Her head ached, as did her hands. She looked at her hands and gasped. Cuts, bruises, it looked like a few of her knuckles were broken. Her eyes made their way to her left wrist and tears instantly starting forming. There was dried blood down to her elbow, and a really botched stitching job on her "across the street"-like gash. When her sob, like a hot cup of coffee, finally burned it's way out of her mouth she couldn't stop. She cried in her hands for what seemed like forever until she heard a loud 'click'.

"Hello?" she asked, her voice sounded small, distant.

Nothing answered her. Maybe someone was on the other side of the mirrors. She attempted to grab the wall to help her stand up but the pain was to much. After letting out a loud pain filled cry she finally lifted herself up and leaned against the wall using the back of her arms to hold her steady. Why was she in what looked to be an interrogation room? She looked across the room and caught her own gaze staring back at her. Her hair, long, a deep red color was matted and a mess. She had no make up on. Her right eye was black, her bottom lip busted. That explains the headache, she thought to herself. She noticed her clothes were a mess. She was wearing a tank top, some ripped up muddy yoga pants, and muddy shoes.

"Where am I?" she thought aloud. She heard another click and lights started to turn on. She shielded her eyes and groaned. "Hello?" she yelled. Everything in the room looked rusty. The walls were a white brick lay of some sort and they were encrusted with dirt and years of filth. Like it hadn't been used in a really long time. After taking a few steps away from the wall she finally caught her balance and walked over to the chair. As she began to sit down, the door on the opposite side of the room started to open. Someone starting stepping into the room, she saw his indigo pants first, Stopping at his hands which were at his sides. They were dirty, covered with white costume makeup and a grey powdery looking substance. She made her way up to his green vest, and purple button down underneath. When she stopped on his face she tried as hard as she could not to suck in her breath in a noticeable manner.

His hair was golden and pulled back, like he ran his hands through it constantly. Greasy, messy, dirty? She didn't know. She knew who he was but couldn't remember just exactly his name. His face, well his face was a different story. Or rather, a few different stories. It looked like it has just been washed of the makeup his hands were stained with. His eyes though, they showed strength. They were fierce, emotionless black pits. Before she looked further she noticed a few scratched on his cheeks and one right below his right eye. She made her way slowly down to his nose and settled on his lips. Was he smiling? She couldn't tell, her head was still fuzzy from the lights and her eyes hadn't completely refocused. As he stepped toward her she realized he wasn't smiling, they were scars. Gruesome, horribly stitched scars. She held in a gasp. The left side had been curved upward, the ridges deeper than the right. Instinctively she brought her own hand up to examine her own handy work. When she looked up he was finally in front of her.

"Well hello beautiful," he giggled a little and it sent a chill throughout her body.

"Where am I?" she asked slowly, not taking her eyes off of his face for a second.

"Don't worry about thatuh." he exhaled a long breath and held his hand out to her. "Do you know who I am?"

"I... I don't remember who...I even am..." She trailed feeling helpless and ignoring the extended hand. He laughed again, this giggle a little more obnoxious, just as creepy. " Stop that." she whispered and his palm came up to cup her face slowly, only to turn into a vice grip that made her eyes tear up.

"You... there was something aboutuh... you. Evangeline." He growled, only tightening the grip he made on her jaw.

Reality hit her quickly and some of her pain dissipated while she realized where she was, who she was, and who he was. Eve Saccaro. The old mental asylum. A couple days before she was beaten and kidnapped while jogging late at night in one of Gothams city parks. Who kidnapped her? Eve looked dead into his eyes .

"Joker."

"HehehAHA..." He cackled and let go of her face. Turning his back to her. "You remember me? How... touching." His voice got low, eerily low.

"Wha-" She stopped to look at her hands again before continuing. "What happened to me?" Eve felt the tears coming back, pulled her legs onto the chair and into her chest wrapping her arms around them.

Joker spun around on his heels and bent down to her level. "As you know, you went a little crazzzy. See?" He pointed to his own, unmade up face, with the cuts and bruises and licked his lips. "So I had to, show you where you could be. Anduh, after being so close to death sweets," he pulled a knife out of his pocket ,flicked it open , and grabbed her left arm with great force. "I still don'tuh think you want life that bad." He slipped the tiny tip of the blade under one of her stitches and bit his bottom lip. She was shivering, but trying as hard as possible not to move. " I need to show you what you're really worth huh?" and with that he pulled the blade ripping one of her stitches out.