A/N: Thank you guys again for reading! And a big thank-you to jamcneill680, Fall-Back-Down, and spurton-Q for following this story and/or adding it to their favourite stories list! :D I hope you like this chapter, as this is where the story really starts to begin. So please review to tell me what you think! :)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from The Dark Knight trilogy. All I own is Cora and any other original characters in this story.


I tried not to wince as Dr Faye Donovan peered down at the cut on my head, pulling my hair away gently with her fountain pen as she inspected the two strips of gauze Julie had replaced for me just an hour ago. It had been a lazy morning, spent slowly making my way through a fruit pot for breakfast with a plastic spork and watching early daytime TV. Dr Donovan had stopped by a couple of minutes ago, and it looked certain that I should be able to take enough care of myself at home. Still though, it didn't stop me from starting to bite my lip nervously when she finally leant back and reached so she could take a look at my file. Not even Julie could distract me from the fact that I felt as uneasy in hospitals as much as the next person.

"Well, there's no more signs of any confusion, though you do seem a little drowsy, which is to be expected," she said soothingly. "No problems with vision or balance. The headache will fade, just as long as you keep yourself rested and refrain from engaging in any overly physical activities. You don't play any sports, do you?"

I shook my head. "Not for a while."

"That's good," she nodded. "Until you get yourself better, at least." She smiled kindly. "So, in that case, I think you'll be fine to be discharged. Just be careful what you do the next couple of days, and hopefully all should be well." She got to her feet.

"Thank you so much," I said gratefully, and she waved me off.

"No problem, you take care of yourself," she told me before stepping out into the corridor, closing the door quietly behind her with a click. Leaning back against the pillow for a moment, I let out a deep breath. I was ready now more than ever just to get home and sleep everything off. Plus, I wasn't sure my dad was ever going to let me leave the house again. Typical overprotective fathers.

Chuckling to myself, I lifted the covers so that I could slide out of bed and start getting changed. My clothes from yesterday were sitting in a folded pile on the cabinet. Pulling off that dreadful hospital gown, I carefully stepped into my jeans, still a little shaky. Everything was fine for me to wear again seeing as I hadn't worn them for all that long anyway, and plus asking my dad to bring something from my wardrobe at home would probably have ended in the weirdest combination imaginable. I'd never been the sort of girl who wouldn't be caught dead in the same pair of jeans twice in a row. A couple of my friends, maybe, but not me. I'd be seeing them in a couple of days (my dad had insisted I take at least a day or so off from school, to which Julie had wisely concurred, much to his delight) and I felt myself smile again at the thought of being reunited with them after what would probably feel like a week.

Feeling almost back to normal once I was done, I checked myself in the mirror above the sink, trying to figure out a way to make myself look at least halfway decent before I left. I dabbed some water at my eyes to wake them up a little and gave my hair a brief comb with my fingers, but with nothing I could do about my pasty complexion I soon resigned that I looked presentable at least. Looking around the room once more, I headed out into the hallway, trying not to bump into anybody as I made my way to the exit.

Just then the nightmare from last night entered my mind, remembering pieces of it as I went down the long corridor that was now full of people. I shivered but pushed it out of my mind, shaking my head. It was useless thinking over something that wasn't real, and plus it definitely wasn't the first disconcerting dream I'd had. Everyone had nightmares.

I soon found myself in reception, and headed out of the glass doors to my left and out into the fresh air, blinking a little in the grey, overcast sunshine that streamed through the clouds overhead. Going down the steps, I knew I now had to focus on finding the taxi the hospital had booked. I suddenly caught sight of one that matched the registration number I'd been given, parked further down the road. I headed over, seeing that the driver had his window down and was resting his arm out of it.

"Hello?" I said, causing him to immediately look up at me. "Hi, my name is Cora Garcia, did the hospital book you to take me to …?" I trailed off, just in case I'd got the wrong cab.

I watched as he suddenly inhaled sharply through his nose, looking sick. He glanced around for a moment before stitching a smile onto his face.

"Er, yes, that's right," he said. He nodded to the back of the car. "If you'd like to get in?"

I hesitated for a couple of seconds before finally going over to the back and climbing inside. I sank back into the leather seat, shaking away any doubts. There wasn't anything to worry about, this wasn't just a random cab I'd hailed from the street that you're warned about from the time you're born. As he pulled away from the curb, I felt myself relax a little as I watched the skyline of the city go slowly by through the window, taking in some of the skyscrapers that towered against the clouds. I'd grown up in the middle of all of it, the noise of the traffic and the feeling of being so tiny compared to the buildings that shot up into the sky.

The driver didn't speak at all, though he did clear his throat a few times as if he was about to say something. I wondered whether to spark a conversation, but decided against it, staring for a moment at the beads of sweat that glistened on the back of his neck through the gap between the head rest and the seat.

That was when things began to take a turn for the unexpected.

Staring back out the window again, I guessed I would be back in twenty more minutes, seeing as I lived in the center of the city and Gotham General was uptown. Plus, everyone was usually at work right now in the day, which meant that most cars were off the main streets; it was around five in the evening that everything became hectic as everyone made their way home. I felt a twinge of confusion suddenly when I realized that we were making a detour.

Maybe there'd been an accident, I reasoned, trying to make out if there was any traffic. But yet something told me from the back of my mind that this wasn't what was going on. Just then we pulled up to the curb and I heard the crank of the handbrake.

"We're here," he said.

I could feel my brows pulling together slowly, frowning as I glanced out through the window again. It took a couple of seconds to even realise that we were still in Gotham; the dense mass of skyscrapers and high-risers that personified Midtown were glinting faintly on the horizon. Baffled, I squinted through the windscreen. Dead ahead of us was an elevated highway, and below that was a ground-level road that stretched in the direction of the center of the city.

"Um ... sorry, but, where are we?" I asked hesitantly.

"25th street," he replied, keeping his eyes ahead.

"But ... I live at 68th Street," I murmured, more to myself than to him. I glanced back through the rear view window, as if something outside would miraculously reveal itself as an explanation. It unnerved me how quiet it was.

He gave a shrug. "They paid me to take you here."

Twisting back around, I released my seatbelt. There was nothing I could do; I had no money, no phone. I let out a small sigh as the strap whisked itself back into place. "It must've been a mix-up," I said, but I didn't even believe what I was saying myself. Hospitals didn't just make mistakes with home addresses.

He nodded. "Sorry about that."

I shook my head. "Don't worry about it. Thanks for the ride." I smiled at him gratefully before opening the door and climbing out. Before I could wrench it closed there was a split second where I managed to catch him nodding silently, his eyes focusing down at the dashboard. In less than a moment he had gone, accelerating off into the distance.

Forcing my legs to start carrying me forward, I raised my eyebrows. Had he been okay? I glanced back around for a moment even though I had already seen him disappear, unable to even hear the sound of his engine now.

Shaking my head, I continued walking briskly, not wanting to hang around. It definitely wasn't the smartest idea to wander around the quieter parts of the city by yourself, and right now I was all too aware that I was a very easy target. I glanced up at the highway above that formed the underpass ahead of me. I had driven through here a couple of times before on my way out of town. It took perhaps five seconds to get from one side to the other at moderate speed. On foot, it would take maybe a minute. Stepping into the dull shadow it created, I listened to the sounds of stray cars zooming across the ceiling, deciding absentmindedly to stick close to the wall in case something came past on ground level.

It must have been about twenty seconds of silence in that dark underpass before the faint sound of a blast made a tremor run down my spine. Spinning around in shock, my gaze hurriedly landed on a thick, black plume of smoke that was rising just beyond a row of dilapidated houses in the distance, a cloud of toxic fume soaring up to touch the grey stretch of sky overhead. My pulse was pounding rapidly beneath my temples, eyes wide as I stumbled to find the wall behind me. I could almost hear the crackling and the spitting of the flames as they licked at the source of the molten inferno, feel the intense heat on my cheeks. My trembling hand flew to my jeans pocket before it hit me that I didn't have a phone. All of a sudden, I felt incredibly vulnerable; something in the back of my mind was telling me to get out. To get out right now.

I felt sick as I began to rush, my legs shaking beneath me as I sucked in rapid bouts of stagnant air through my teeth. I focused on trying not to hyperventilate, trying not to panic. I was okay, I just needed to get out of this place, out from this dark underpass. There was a pain in my head where I knew I had hit it from the concussion but I ignored it, pushing the pads of my fingers against it for a second as if the pressure would ease the ache. I could feel the rough fabric of the gauze, the tenderness of the bruise. I hissed a little at the sharp twinge, my vision blurring. I slowed, unable to see, scrunching my eyes shut for a moment as I waited for it to pass.

After a couple of seconds, I peeled them open again, squinting as the light from up ahead gleamed into my retinas. Bringing a hand up to my face, I let out a deep, shaky breath, blinking away the sting as my stiff legs began to tread me back forward steadily, my knees locking and unlocking in place. I was okay. I just needed to keep moving; there wasn't too far to go now.

That was until I saw the shape: something dark and nonchalant stepping into view from around the corner, blocking off some of the light. My feet scratched to a halt, gravel scraping against the soles of my shoes as the sound echoed off the walls. I could vaguely feel my heart starting to pound against my rib cage, something rising in my throat as my brain registered there was a gun in his arms.

I stumbled backwards, almost falling over as cold fear flooded my system. There was a banging in my head and I realised it was the blood being forced around my body, resounding in my ears. That was all I could hear, the sound of adrenaline being pumped through my veins, tensing my muscles and heightening my senses. I was trembling, unable to take my eyes off him until suddenly my spine collided with something solid.

A high-pitched giggle sounded behind me, and I felt a sickening terror instil itself in my stomach. A cloud of warm breath tickled my ear. I shivered, my heart thumping manically in my chest; I didn't want to turn around.

"A little lost-ah, are we, beautiful?"

I let out a shaky breath, slowly turning around to meet a pair of dark eyes that were staring at me with a sadistic glint, lips stretched in a bared, yellow grin. I felt the blood drain from my face as I took in the white, black and red war-paint that was daubed over his face, scars extending from either side of his massacred mouth. It was him: the man that had dominated the media for many weeks now. The murdering psychopath, the Joker, was inches away from me.

The scream that had been building up these past couple of minutes finally ripped out of my throat. "HEL–!"

A hand that felt like steel shot out to seize my arm and before I knew it I was being pushed against the wall, a gloved hand clamping down over my mouth. Breathing heavily, I stared up into his cold, dark eyes that were gazing at me deeply.

"Ah-ta-ta-ta," he scolded huskily, reaching into the pocket of his massive purple coat. "We wouldn't want that, beautiful." My eyes widened as I watched him withdraw a small pocket knife; I jumped beneath his hand when the blade clicked open, feeling a tear finally spill down my cheek. I sensed the grin on his face grow wider. "You might scare somebody."

I couldn't stop the muffled whimper that released itself from behind his leather fingers, the smell of gasoline and sweat filling my nostrils, almost suffocating. I kept my eyes on the blade that was being held next to my cheek as the Joker glanced over at someone to his left. I realised it was one of his cronies who had blocked me off.

"Bring the van around," he growled hastily.

As he turned back to face me, I could vaguely hear his henchman muttering into a walkie-talkie. I felt another hot drop of moisture meet his hand, my insides writhing as he let the knife trace the area just below my eye socket.

"You like it?" he said throatily. "Ya know, it's one of my fav-our-ites. The way it ... it cuts through things. It's so much cleaner than the others. Speaking of which, you wanna know how I got these scars?"

He pointed at them with the end of his knife, turning his head at an angle as if he were posing. I let my eyes flicker down to them for a moment, feeling his gaze burning into my skin, dark orbs twitching with every miniscule movement. He opened his mouth, but the sound of an engine pulling into the gloom captured his attention for a second, his eyes hastily appraising a vehicle that I could not see.

"Looks like our ride's here," he said, turning his head back down to me so that our faces were a hair's width apart. I stared up at him in horror, feeling my breath condensing on his gloved fingers as he slipped the knife back into his pocket. "But it doesn't matter – we'll have plenty of time to talk later."

I felt the cool air burn the back of my throat as he finally took his hand away from my mouth, a bead of sweat dripping down my temple. He gazed down at me for a moment, teeth bared in a mischievous grin, before suddenly I found myself seized by the arm and yanked so that I was staring in the direction of a black van, a stone-like grip digging into my biceps. Pushing me forward, I started to struggle, a whole new sense of terror starting to take hold; he was kidnapping me.

The Joker's goon hurried over to pull open the doors to the van and I screamed, writhing as his hand clapped over my mouth again and his arm wrapped around my waist, grabbing me against his body as he wrestled me inside. Rows of seats were fixed to the left and right walls. Two other people were sitting there in the shadow, both of them shooting me intense stares. The Joker hurled me onto the floor, landing with a clank as someone jumped up behind me. The doors slammed closed, throwing us into semi-darkness.

Still feeling glances from the others, I hurriedly pulled myself up onto the furthest seat away from them all, hearing the Joker leap up into the front. There was a thud as he stomped on the gas pedal, and within seconds we were accelerating out from the underpass, not leaving a trace. I felt sick as the realisation hit me: how would anyone know where I was? How would anyone know where to find me? My stomach sank; I was in trouble – massive trouble.