Disclaimer: Batman, all his associated worlds and the characters within them are not mine.

Warnings: Violence, swearing, slash, rape and the Joker are in this fic.

Chapter 2

He ran. He ran as fast as he could and as far as he could before his legs gave way and he crashed to the pavement panting for breath. He felt like his insides were burning, the pain in his legs from running only making it worse. The rain was heavy and it beat down on him just like the showers had. His long hair stuck to his face and his clothes felt like they were made of lead. He curled up into a ball and stayed where he'd fallen. It was like he'd crashed. His eyes stayed open but glazed over, not really seeing anything. He was a broken, pathetic shell of a human lying in the dirt where he belonged. He lay there was god knows how long, not moving and barely breathing while the rain continued to beat down.

"You can't stay there my boy," A deep, gentle voice and a lack of rain on his head made his eyes refocus. He suddenly realised how cold he was and he shivered violently. A familiar man was crouched beside him holding an umbrella. The bearded man took hold of his arm and dragged him up, placing a large black coat around his shoulders and leading him away.

His eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright. Then a searing pain in his head made him groan and lie back down. Back in the infirmary. How had he gotten here this time?

"You're finally awake," Jonathan recognised the Joker's voice and remained still "I thought I'd be kicked out before you woke up," Jonathan rose again, slower this time, to see the Joker sitting in the bed across from him sporting a few stitches on his cheekbone and a black eye. Jonathan groaned again. Just what he needed. Another 'friendly' chat what a murdering, psychotic clown. "I beat up the guy who punched you. You're knocked out really easily you know," The Joker grinned, seemingly un-caring of any pain caused by his stitches "And you were all twitchy when you were unconscious," The Joker hopped out of bed and crossed the room, kneeling beside Jonathan's bed "Like a dog dreaming," He rested his arms on the bed "But maybe you were... remembering something. Funny thing, the unconscious mind, isn't it Doctor?" He emphasised the last word.

"Very," There was no point lying to the Joker. Jonathan knew he wouldn't back down and would get the information he wanted anyway he could. Maybe he could use that, if he was co-operative the Joker would be much less likely to hurt him.

"Well?"

"I lay down on the sidewalk in the rain then someone picked me up and took me away," Confusion flickered across the Joker's face.

"Why did you lie on the sidewalk?"

"I was running and I fell. Then I just stayed,"

"What were you running from?"

"Water. It's something to do with water. The sound of water in my head made me almost kill Snaggletooth," The Joker's face was unreadable for a moment then he smiled.

"Isn't it nice to tell the truth to nurse Joker? Do you know who picked you up from your stupid sidewalk nap?"

"It was a man with a beard," Jonathan sighed, trying not to mentally picture the Joker in a nurse's uniform. The Joker laughed.

"Now we're getting somewhere, did you know the bearded man?"

"He seemed familiar,"

"Uncle, neighbour, Daddy?"

"It was someone I trusted,"

"So no one in your family. Is this all you can remember?"

"Yes, is that enough?"

"Oh plenty for now," The Joker stood up. He walked to the empty nurse's desk and grabbed the beaker of water before returning to Jonathan's bed. Jonathan tried to get up but he'd been strapped to the bed. The Joker got on the bed and straddled him, grabbing him by the hair with his free hand and forcing his scarred mouth onto Jonathan's lips, tipping the beaker of water over Jonathan's head as he did so. He pulled away and rammed Jonathan's head back against metal bed post, sending him into darkness once again.

"Hey Jonathina!" Urg he hated Gym. Especially running. It was just another way for the stupid dick head jocks to taunt him. He kept his head down and continued running, ignoring the four figures surrounding him.

"You run like a girl,"

"You look like a girl,"

"You are a girl,"

"Jonathina!"

If Jonathan hadn't heard these same four jibes from the same four jocks he might have been offended. The jock to his right made an unsuccessful attempt to trip him then all four ran ahead laughing. Jonathan saw one of them look back over their shoulder and he avoided eye contact.

Jonathan always tried his best to avoid showering at school. Yes it was disgusting and he always showered first thing when he got home but there's no way in hell he'd give the meat head jocks anymore ammunition against him. This was why he was hiding a toilet cubicle, standing on the toilet seat so coach wouldn't see his feet when he checked around to see if everyone had left. Coach had just been by five minutes ago and Jonathan couldn't hear anyone in the changing rooms. He slowly placed his feet on the ground and pushed the cubicle door open as quietly as he could. He looked around before leaving the cubicle and creeping silently through the changing rooms. He reached his gym locker and breathed a sigh of relief.

The absence of sound and people in the normally crowded and shout filled changing room had freaked him out the first time he'd hidden to avoid showering but by now the quiet just calmed him. He'd always end up going home late after gym but his parents didn't notice if he wasn't home anyway so it hardly mattered.

Jonathan pulled open his locker and cursed the mirror fixed to the inside of the door. He hated when he forgot it was there and he couldn't avoid looking at himself. His mother said he looked like an angel. His father said he looked like a fag. He cursed his feminine features, especially his stupid bush baby eyes courtesy of his mother's side of the family. Maybe the long hair was his own fault but he wasn't going to get it cut if it meant going to the psychopath of a barber his father loved so much. He sighed and pulled his gym shirt over his head. If he was ever going to get home he'd have to get changed.

When he was on the verge of stuffing the shirt into his locker he caught sight of something other than his own reflection in the mirror. He'd seen a person. He immediately thought of coach as his head snapped towards the now approaching figure. His heart rate increased as he realised it was one of the jocks from earlier. Jonathan recalled that this one was called Will Carter, he was tall, blonde, muscular and had some bubble head blonde cheerleader for a girlfriend. He was the perfect jock. A whole stereotype epitomised in one guy. He was the jock that had looked back as the others ran off. Jonathan stood frozen to the spot. How had he not heard Carter? Why was that asshole still here? And why was he only wearing a towel? Jonathan's mouth dropped open as he fully registered that last point and he took a shaky step back as Carter stood right in front of him. He suddenly felt very exposed by his lack of shirt.

"You're a naughty little freak Jonathina," Carter grinned as he looked down at Jonathan "You know coach orders us to shower after gym. But you hide in the toilets so you don't have to," He grabbed Jonathan's head and rammed him against the lockers, holding him against them so his face was pressed to the cold metal. "You shouldn't have the fucking nerve to disobey coach!" Carter shouted, twisting his fingers into Jonathan's long hair with one hand and grabbing one of his wrists in a vice like grip with the other. He began dragging Jonathan across the room "I'll make you shower," Carter's smug grin returned. Carter was strong, even though Jonathan struggled with all his strength it did nothing to halt their progress towards the showers. When they were just outside the showers Carter pushed Jonathan against the wall, fixing one hand around his neck and squeezing tightly. Jonathan struggled to breathe and thought that Carter might just kill him here. But when Jonathan brought his own hands limply to the hand choking him Carter wrenched Jonathan's pants and underwear off in one swift motion. Jonathan would have gasped if he had the breath, his eyes bugging out as the niggling worry that Carter would do... this, the voice he'd pushed to the back of his mind for even suggesting that Carter wanted to do anything than force him under the water or drown him, came screaming into the for front of his mind. He's going to fucking rape you! It screamed over and over as Carter dragged him into the showers and hit the button to turn on the water. Jonathan closed his eyes as tightly as he could and wished his mind could leave his body. Carter pressed him face first against the shower wall and Jonathan yelped as Carter's skin made contact with his. His finger nails scratched the tiles as the balled up his fists and Carter's fingers gripped into his hair. Carter groaned in his ear, barely audible over the crashing water, "You're a pretty girl," Jonathan felt like his brain shut down as he tried to block it all out. He knew he was pressed against the shower wall being completely violated but he closed his mind off, anything but acknowledge what was happening to his body.

Carter mustn't have left too long ago as the water was still running. Jonathan numbly stumbled to his feet, somehow walking back to his locker and pulling on his clothes without thinking or instructing his body to do so.

"Hey! What are you still doing here?" Jonathan's mind snapped back into place as he heard the angry male voice shout at him. His body flooded with fear and adrenalin and he ran as fast as he could from the locker rooms.

He ran. He had no idea how long he ran before his legs gave way and he crashed to the ground. The rain thundered down on his body and he finally noticed how much pain he was in. His every muscle throbbed and he was filled with an intense burning. His thoughts were a horrible jumble of screaming, semi-coherent voices and horrible images. He lay in the dirt, not daring to move and letting his mind shut down once again, a haze settling over him this time, more like a blanket muffling his thoughts than the complete absence he'd achieved earlier. He just lay, eyes wide and unfocused as the rain drenched him through.

"You can't stay there my boy," the deep gentle voice broke through Jonathan's self inflicted mind fog and his eyes re-focused. The familiar bearded man held an umbrella over his body, which at some point had curled into the foetal position. The man gently pulled Jonathan to his feet and placed his large black coat over Jonathan's skinny shoulders, leading him away. "If the janitor hadn't seen you and contacted me I might not have found you,"

"Thank you Professor Strange," Jonathan mumbled lifelessly.

"It's quite alright boy," Strange smiled sadly. "Now I'm going to take you to my home because you look like you'll freeze to death if you don't warm up soon. Is that okay?" Jonathan nodded and wrapped his arms around himself as he shivered.

Strange lived in a large, fancy house but Jonathan wasn't really admiring the decor as Strange steered him towards a fireplace. He lit the fire and got the shivering Jonathan to sit in front of it.

"I'll see if I can find you some different clothes," Strange began to leave the room but a question had processed through Jonathan's numb mind.

"Did the janitor know why I was there?" he asked. Strange turned to face him.

"No, he just thought you were loitering,"

"Do you...?" Jonathan trailed off, shivering again and looking at the carpet. He heard Strange sigh and the man came back to the fireplace and knelt beside him.

"I can guess my dear boy, from your injuries, where the janitor saw you and his report that you looked wet and terrified," Jonathan continued to look at the floor in front of him, his vision blurred without his glasses, watching the water drip from his head and sink into the thick carpet. Strange lightly patted his back, took something from his pocket, placed it beside him and left the room. Jonathan slowly turned his head to see what Strange had left. A handkerchief. He brought his hands to his face and felt the tears roll down his cheeks. He hadn't even noticed, with all the other water... He picked up the handkerchief and pressed it against his eyes, his breaths coming out in wretched sobs. He was truly pathetic.

Jonathan stood in Strange's bathroom, glowering at his reflection in the mirror. He was mostly dry by now although the ends of his hair were still damp. His stupid, long, girly hair. When he'd changed into the clothes Strange had given him he'd found he was covered in bruises and small cuts. And he had what looked horrifically like bite marks ingrained deeply in his shoulder. He shuddered and swallowed the pain killers Strange had hidden amongst the clothes. His borrowed clothes were far too big for him, the long sleeved dark brown t-shirt hung off his skinny frame and he'd had to put an extra hole in the belt to hold up the baggy black pants.

He picked up the scissors he'd borrowed, or took while Strange wasn't looking, and took one last look at his hair. As he held the scissors hundreds of images flickered through his head, he could ram the blades through his hand, cut through the baggy clothes or carve patterns into the walls, so many options, but he shook his head to clear it and began snipping at his hair. He cut away until it was much shorter. It wasn't the most professional cut ever but his stupid, long, girly hair was gone and that was all that mattered.

When he exited the bathroom he found Strange waiting on the other side of the door. He looked at Jonathan's new haircut and gave him a calculating look.

"Is that all you used the scissors for?" Jonathan nodded and handed them back to Strange, who let out a sigh of relief, evidently relieved Jonathan hadn't tried to kill himself with them.

"Thank you for everything Professor, I think I should go home now," Jonathan still ached all over despite the pain killers and he felt like going to sleep.

"Of course, your mother will be worried. Do you want me to escort you?"

"No thanks, I'll be fine Professor,"

"Okay my boy, if you're sure," Strange smiled and reached into his pocket, pulling out Jonathan's glasses and handing them to him. Jonathan put them on and was momentarily elated by the clarity of his vision before he remembered that he'd left these in his gym locker at school. He looked up at Strange, confused. "I got the janitor to bring your things, he's an old associate of mine who was happy to help. He still doesn't suspect anything, no need to worry," Strange answered his un-asked question and led him down the hall.

Jonathan opened the front door as quietly as he could but he needn't have bothered as his mother was standing beside the door to use the phone. Her large blue eyes, the ones Jonathan had inherited, looked momentarily shocked before relief flooded her face.

"Jonathan? Oh Jonathan!" She flung her arms around him. He stiffened and hissed as she inadvertently pressed down on bruises and cuts. She noticed and loosened her hold, still keeping her arms around him. She looked at him with her face filled with worry and concern. She looked older than she really was when she was worried. "Where have you been? Are you okay? I was just about to phone the school..."

"I'm fine," Jonathan lied, looking down into his mother's face. He did look a lot like her, though his features were stronger and he was already taller than her. As she looked up at him something seemed to click.

"You've cut your hair..." she reached up to touch the messily cut strands "and these aren't your clothes,"

"I'm fine," he repeated, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing as his eyes prickled dangerously. She didn't say or do anything for a moment then she hugged him again, gently this time, and spoke quietly.

"It's okay," She let go of him and let him go to his room.

Jonathan turned off his lights and crawled completely under his bed sheets, curling up, wrapping his arms around his legs and tucking his chin into his knees. He lay motionless, sleep not coming, in that cosy position. After a while he heard his door softly click open then close again. He pulled the covers off his head to look at the door and saw a sandwich and a glass of water resting on the floor.

"Thanks mom," he whispered into the darkness.

A/N: Thank you to Sarah for letting me constantly bother her with this ;) Also thanks to Jaime Snyder for reviewing and the people who have this on story alert. Hopefully I won't be too long with the next chapter. Remember to review.