There was a knock on his cell door, and it opened a few seconds later. Two guards awaited him outside.

"C'mon, clown, you'll be late for your appointment," one guard said, jingling a set of handcuffs.

The Joker opened his eyes without bothering to lift his head from the cool wall. His scarred mouth twisted up into an amused grin. "We wouldn't want-ah that now, would we?" He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of his bed, holding out his wrists for the guard to handcuff him.

The guard attached the handcuffs to a thick leather belt around the Joker's waist, and he led him out. The Joker went willingly, his eyes darting about the corridors of Arkham like he was expecting someone. He looked slightly disappointed as the guards brought him to the door to the interview room, but he openly beamed when he saw his doctor waiting at the table already.

"Maybe I am late," the Joker chuckled. "Sorry 'bout that-ah, Har-ley." One of the guards gave him a warning smack in the back of his head.

"Don't do that, Carl," Harleen said. "He's just being funny."

The guard didn't look amused, but he brought the Joker over to the table, sitting him down before leaving the room.

The Joker placed his handcuffed hands on the desk and grinned at his psychologist. "So, Doc, how've yah been since I last saw yah?"

She gave him a serious look, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm fine," she replied, tartly.

He winced. "Someone bother you today, Doc?"

"No, not someone, some-thing." He tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. "I've heard from security that you attacked a guard this morning."

"I didn't attack him. I was defending myself."

"That's not what the report states," Harleen said, slipping a piece of paper from his manila folder. She set it down on top of the folder and folded her hands on it. "You had a knife, J."

"Got it from the guard," the Joker replied.

"Guards aren't allowed to carry knives."

"This one," he said, leaning forward, "Had it hid-den in his boot."

"Do you really consider cutting his ear off self-defense?" she asked seriously.

He shrugged, carelessly. "Maybe I went a lit-tle overboard," he murmured.

"What was he doing to you that made you feel that you had to defend yourself?"

The Joker licked his bottom lip, gazing into her eyes. He didn't give a reply to that.

"You know silence isn't going to help your case, J. It just hurts your claim of feeling the need to defend yourself. And it definitely doesn't help the reason why you were headed into a section you weren't allowed in."

"Why aren't I allowed there?" he asked, slyly, lowering his head and looking at her from under his brow.

Harleen swallowed, slightly disturbed by the look. "We can't just let anyone wander Arkham for both their safety and for Arkham's staff's safety."

"When was the last time I hurt someone because I felt like it?" the Joker asked, leaning back in his seat.

"If you can't give a reason why you needed self-defense, then your last time was this morning."

The Joker scoffed. "All right, he was threatening me, pulled the knife on me."

"Did you intimidate him?" she asked, intently.

"Me? In-tim-idate him?" He leaned forward, widening his eyes. "Do I look like guy who intimidates people, Doc?"

Her mouth twitched, and she covered it with a hand, obviously smiling behind her hand. He leaned back with a satisfied grin. "C'mon, Har-ley. You know me bet-ter than that."

"They're not going to believe that," Harleen told him. "It would be the guard's word against yours."

"But I'm a man of my word-ah," he protested. "Always have been." Then, he perked up, a thought popping into his head. "Did they catch it on camera?"

"What?"

"Yah know, all the cameras they have around this place," the Joker explained, waving his hands to demonstrate, but the effect was lost because of the limit of the handcuffs attached to the thick belt. "Surely they got footage of it."

"The cameras were malfunctioning in that hall."

His eyes widened as his mouth dropped, placing his hands on the table. "What? I can't use that as evidence?"

"No. They still have those guards to witness against you for your reaction after you 'defended' yourself."

"You don't believe me, do yah, Har-leen," he said, glumly as he slouched in his chair, hanging his head.

"No, I do," Harleen insisted, reaching over and resting a hand on his. He raised his head slightly at the sudden touch, narrowing his eyes. "There's just so…little evidence that would support your story, Mistah J."

He looked up, realizing she had just used her 'caring' voice, using a softer tone to her usual 'psychiatrist' voice. A small smile stretched across his lips. "Maybe the guard will tell the truth," he suggested.

She blinked. "Why? No one purposely gets themselves into trouble."

"You're sitting across from one such per-son," he giggled. He turned his hand over, clasping hers. It amazed him how small her hand was, too small to fit perfectly. His smile faltered, as he thought of one hand that he knew was the perfect size. "Maybe you could talk to him," he said, lifting his gaze to meet hers. "You're convincing. You've convinced me before." He flashed her a charming smile – the scars almost ruining the effect – but she caught it, blushing slightly.

Then, he pulled his hand away as the door opened behind him. "Time's up, Doc," he exclaimed. "It was nice talking to yah! I already look forward to our next chat!"

After the guards had taken the Joker away, Harleen looked down into her hand, seeing a one-hundred dollar bill. She knew what he wanted her to do: go convince the guard to tell the "truth".

The Joker grinned as he was placed back in his cell. He knew Harleen would understand; she seemed to have the same ability as Peter did. He laughed out loud, thinking himself clever, but he shut himself up.

He lifted his hand, the one Harleen had touched, and a pang of longing passed through him. The smile faded from his face as his hand fell. It didn't matter how much he wanted her back; he couldn't help her while they were both in Arkham.

But what did he have to wait for? Until her memory returned or one of them got released? No one was going to release him. Why were they holding her here? It had nothing to do with her mental health; it was only because of her ability.

The Joker narrowed his eyes, remembering the image of her, chained, like a dog, to her guard and to the newly installed bar in the hallways. His hands clenched. Sure, he knew that's all the staff of Arkham could think of to stop her from shadowing, but why would she, if she didn't even remember?

Someone knocked on his cell door, but he didn't look up this time, waiting for them to enter. "You know, clown, someone's going to tell."

"As if that worries me," the Joker growled. "Is the camera off?"

"Lyle's frozen the picture on you, and the sound's off, yes."

"Where is she?"

"Heading down to the showers." The intern shifted his weight uneasily. "You're not gonna-."

"No!" the Joker snapped, lifting his head and glaring at the man. "Who do you think I am?" The intern stammered, but the Joker continued. "Don't answer that. She's not who I'm after."

"Then who-?"

The Joker stared at the man, silencing him. He turned his head and stared at the wall for a moment, his tongue tracing his bottom lip. Who was he after? Ignoring the uneasy intern, he looked at his hands, returning to the thought he was having before the intern inter-rupted him.

Who was responsible for placing Shadow in chains, treating her like she was an animal? It made the Joker angry that someone in Arkham would allow some callous doctor do that to a patient who wasn't really a patient. Callous doctor…

"Who's Shadow's doctor?" the Joker asked.

"Um, Shadow?"

He glared at the man. "Sorry, I meant Ms. McKinley's doctor." He recognized the name as one of Shadow's aliases over the years of her criminal life, but why didn't she remember her real name? It was probably the most recent one that she's used, before she came to Gotham only four months ago.

"Um, Dr. Keaton," the intern said, hesitantly.

"Yeah, that's him," the Joker said, grinning. He rubbed his hands together and said, "I have a need to, ah, to speak with him." He stood up and sauntered toward the intern. "You've done your job. Now, for me to pay you…" The intern's eyes widened, and he turned to run out of the cell. The Joker was faster, grabbing him by the back of his white coat and pulling him back into the cell, slamming his head against the wall. He dropped the unconscious intern on the floor and crouched beside him, tilting his head as he played with his mouth. "You don't have to worry ah-bout losing your internship here, Larry."

He giggled and then left his cell.


Hot water ran over my face as I rinsed my hair, turning my head this way and that, running my hands through the wet strands to be rid of the shampoo. It was generous of the Arkham staff to allow patients to shower either every other day or every three days. To be honest, it was the only thing I had to look forward to, those ten minutes under running water. I could ignore the fact that there was a female guard waiting right outside the stall. It was an escape from my cell, from the loneliness, from the screams I could hear.

I could even escape from my personal hatred and fury from not knowing who I was.

I finished rinsing my hair and simply stood there, letting the water run over my body, allowing me to relax. I purposely finished with two minutes left to enjoy this solitude, this peace from my troubling thoughts. It was like my mediating moment, thinking of nothing, letting my mind be free, detaching from my emotions.

Unfortunately, I didn't have enough time to detach for long. The female guard – Penny, her name was – rapped on the shower door, and I sighed. "What?"

"I'm sorry, McKinley, but we have to cut your shower short." At that exact moment, the water shut off, and again, I sighed.

I stepped out onto the mat and dried myself off before dressing in the clean clothes Penny handed me. She stood nearby, her eyes averted as I dressed, and when I was ready, I cleared my throat.

"Sorry about this, McKinley," she said, attaching my handcuffs and collar to her belt.

"Don't be," I said, "It's just my doctor's idea. I don't like it, but I can't refuse when I don't know his reasoning."

Penny nodded and led me out into the hallway, attaching my other chain to the sidebar. We proceeded down the hall, only to stop when two male guards came around the corner, calling for Penny to stop.

"Where has she been?" one of the guards demanded, glancing at me with hostility.

"With me," Penny retorted, sharply. "I'm bringing her back to her cell. What happened, Lyle? I got a call to bring her back early."

"One of the patients escaped from his cell," the guard answered, still watching me closely, like he didn't trust me. Of course, why would anyone if I was dangerous? How did I know I was dangerous, why else did you think they put chains and handcuffs on me?

Penny hesitated, and then spoke in a whisper. I tried leaning in to hear, but the male guard, Lyle, glared at me so I busied myself with trying to adjust the handcuffs. I saw the other guard nod at what Penny had said, and she stiffened.

"What has he done?" Penny asked, quietly, but not in the whisper so I could hear her.

"Went to Dr. Keaton's office and stabbed him with his pen," Lyle replied in a normal volume. I stiffened, eyes widening slightly. Did they think I had done that to Dr. Keaton? With difficulty, I kept the smile from reaching my face. Sounded like someone else had something against Dr. Keaton.

"Is my doctor okay?" I asked, my voice small in the attempt to hide my secret joy.

"Unfortunately, no," the other guard replied. "Too many stab wounds."

I lowered my eyebrows, frowning. "Who did it?" I asked, my voice suddenly hard. Not that I cared, but I wanted to know who I can thank later.

The three guards looked at one another, uncertainly. "Some psychotic," Lyle said. "He's in lock-up now."

I hung my head. "Poor Doctor Keaton," I said, quietly. I looked up shyly – all part of the act. "Who'll be my doctor now?"

"They'll find someone for you, Ms. McKinley," Penny said, turning and putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. It shocked me, the sudden show of concern, but I didn't let my surprise show.

"Get her to her cell," Lyle told Penny. "I'm sure they'll have a doctor for you soon," he added to me, a bit kinder than before. I narrowed my eyes slightly, suspicious of his sudden change. I didn't think it was just Penny's show of sympathy.

Penny started down the hallway again, me behind her, but I kept my eyes on Lyle until he was out of view. He just grinned at me before turning away.

I sat in my cell for half an hour before someone came to get me. I was brought to the interview room for the second time that day, where I was again chained to the table with just my handcuffs. Who I assumed was my new doctor was already waiting for me.

It was a woman, named Dr. Young. She must have been in her middle twenties, her black hair pulled back into a bun. She had my manila folder on the table, but it was closed and off to the side. When I had entered the room, she gave me a warm smile, and I narrowed my eyes, distrusting the affection beginning. Dr. Keaton had done the same thing, looked nice and pleasant before turning cold on me.

My guard stood just behind me, and Dr. Young looked up at him. "You may leave us," she said.

"Are you sure?" the guard asked.

"We're fine. Aren't we, Jane?" She looked at me expectantly, and I blinked.

"Um, sure," I said, uncertainly. No one had called me by my first name; it was always 'Ms. McKinley'. Dr. Young had caught me by surprise.

"All right, I'll be just outside if you need anything," my guard said before leaving the room.

"Jane, I'm going to be your new doctor. My name's Dr. Young."

"I could tell by the nametag," I stated, simply. "Will you be different from Dr. Keaton, is what I'm wondering."

"All the doctors here have their own method of curing a patient."

"I'm not suffering from some mental problem, Dr. Young," I said. "I just have a lack of memories prior to my waking up in the hospital."

She arched an eyebrow. "Is that all you know, Jane?"

I chewed on my lower lip. "Dr. Keaton didn't tell me anything about what he – or Arkham, for that matter – knew. I know a few things, like my name, age, what happened, and where I am, but that's about it."

"He was using his method of letting you remember on your own. The method never works unless the subject is prompted." Dr. Young finally told my folder and opened it. "I'll start with the basics that we have, that you know before I go into what you don't know. I won't go into detail. This is just to see if it will trigger anything for you. Just tell me the first thing that comes to mind when I saw something." She scanned the information, looking for the first bit. "Jane McKinley."

"My name," I said.

"Twenty-four."

"My age."

"Bat."

"Hit by a metal bat."

"Criminal."

"I guess that's why I'm handcuffed," I said, frowning.

"Four."

Without thinking, I said, "Years…"

Dr. Young looked up at me. "Years, Jane?" she asked.

"Four years…it means something." I frowned, intently trying to think of what it meant. "I can think of three words that go with it. Four years, age four, and four percent."

Dr. Young blinked with surprise. "Do you know your medical record?"

I shook my head. "I've heard 'four percent' being said a number of times. I don't know what it means, but it sounded bad."

"How do you know?"

"The doctors saying it sounded very concerned when they said it." I met her gaze and asked, "Is that bad?"

"It was," she replied, leaning forward. "You weren't awake for most of it, but the hospital had said that you only had a four percent chance of living after what had happened to you." My mouth dropped open slightly. "It was a miracle that you managed to pull through, when your percentage of survival had been decreasing so rapidly…"

She stopped, seeing the expression on my face. "Are you feeling all right, Jane? You're looking pale."

Nervously, I licked my lips, wetting them. "No, I'm okay, Doctor. It's just…strange to have someone explain things to me."

She smiled gently, her eyes warm. "I'm your doctor now, Jane. It must be an emotional strain on you to not know who you are and to have no memories. I don't mean to speak about my…colleague this way, but he wasn't using the correct method for you."

"Not to mention being unsympathetic," I murmured.

"I'm here for you now, Jane. I will try my best to understand what you're going through, and I promise to help you, to the best of my ability."

After the interview, I lied on my cot, facing the wall and sliding my finger along the little tracks the cement blocks made. I really did have to find out who got rid of Dr. Keaton and thank him. Sure, it wasn't really the right thing, but I didn't feel sympathetic for the doctor who did nothing for me. I liked Dr. Young…so far. I wasn't going to trust her with everything just yet; I've only had my first interview with her. But if anyone is going to help me, as far as I know, it'd be Dr. Young.


The Joker sat in lock-up, still wearing the straitjacket. He leaned against the wall, his eyes darting about the very dull room. He didn't know how long he was going to stay in here this time, but he had the sense that it was worth it. Shadow might have it easier now. Hopefully, Dr. Arkham was smart enough to switch it up and give her a better doctor, or once he got out of lock-up, the Joker would have to go for a visit to Jeremiah Arkham.

For the time being, he rested, closing his eyes and simply thinking. It was his only way to avoid boredom in lock-up since he had to be quiet or stay in there longer. Either way, he was content. And with any luck, Shadow was too.


Lordlink13: Aw, he cares about her. I think it's cute, I don't know about the rest of you. So this is chapter two, uploaded on a week from the first. I'm going to keep that up, like the first book, so don't rush me. I'm still trying to figure out what's going on in the story, but I'll figure it out, don't you doubt me. I hope you enjoyed this and really hope you review before you get back to your regular life schedule.