Disclaimer: All the characters used in this fic belong to DC Comics and are based on the characters in The Dark Knight. I own absolutely nothing but the plot and my characters.

Chapter 4: Regret

A/N: They're coming more frequently, while I'm still on a roll.

Song: Imagine by A Perfect Circle

What the hell kind of game was the Joker playing? Thus far, he had killed eight men, leaving clues with only two of the bodies. Not only were the murders sporadic and confusing, but the cryptic messages made everything much harder. They had tried everything they could think of to piece the two clues into words, and nothing had worked. Were they wrong with their guesses, or were they simply over-thinking the madman's game?

Gordon hoped to high heaven that it was the latter.

If not, he had no idea what they'd do. It was impossible to stop the killings without knowing the Joker's location and methods, and they couldn't very well find him until he targeted someone else. He waited in agony as his men put out wanted information for the man Gordon had seen in the photograph's background. It wasn't every day that they ran across a passerby on the scene of a murder grinning manically at the camera.

Even in a city like Gotham, things like that just didn't happen by coincidence. There was something fishy going on, and Gordon was determined to figure it out. Even if it meant missing yet another family dinner. Surely, Barbara would wring his neck later that night, but her safety, and that of his children, was far more important. Risking her anger was a far better prospect than letting a lunatic run amok. He could always make it up to her later.

Gordon's eyes lit up as he stared at the two photographs of the clues. All they had to go on were eight murders and two clues. He shuffled through the papers on his desk, grabbing hold of the report on the Napier break-in. According to the report, Anna Sanders had stated that the Joker had kidnapped her daughter, Amy, and taken her to the Napier residence where he had proceeded to interrogate the resident, Richard Napier.

What if two clues wasn't enough? What if there was supposed to be a third murder? And, this was a long-shot, what if Richard Napier was initially meant to be the first victim in the Joker's cryptic game. The Commissioner stood from his desk, marching out into the break room where his men sat drinking coffee.

"Get a team together," he instructed, slamming the papers onto the table, "and find out where Richard Napier is being hospitalized."

One of the men, a rather new addition to the squad, stared at Gordon in shock, his coffee having fallen to the floor. "If I may ask, sir," he said hesitantly, "what's this all about?"

Gordon, his nerves having been shot, trembled with fear and excitement, eager to prove his hunch was right. "We're going to the circus."

6 - 7 - 6 - 7

Being trapped within the hospital was just as horrid as he remembered. The last time Alec had been there was ten years earlier, back when he had come up with the elaborate scheme to slide from the window to the trampoline that he had placed in the driveway. As his mother had said, he bounced right off and wrecked his leg. Even being seven, he should have known better. His mother had made that much clear as she drove him to the hospital.

But this time, his mother wasn't there to scold him for getting involved with Gotham's most-wanted criminal. She wasn't there to protect him from harm, whisper words of love and comfort to him, or even force him back into his hospital bed when he decided to leave.

She hadn't been there for a long time.

He waited until the fussing nurses outside his room began to settle down before making his move. With three broken ribs and multiple fractures, he wasn't sure he'd be able to make a break for it if they spotted him. Despite his doubts, Alec would not be deterred. It was pathetic for him to rely upon doctors and nurses for his health. Besides, they would only care for him until he could walk properly. After that, they'd kick him out due to his lack of payment.

The nurses steadily began making their way to the break room, pagers on hand in the event that they were needed. Alec scowled. They spoke words of self-righteousness, words about wanting to "make a difference," but all they cared about was their damned paychecks. They were just like the rest of Gotham, like the rest of the world: Greedy and self-sustaining. And he refused to be added to the body count because of their lack of compassion.

The door to his room slid open with a soft hiss, startling him. He turned, scanning the dim hallway before running towards the elevator. With a slap, the button lit up, and Alec headed around the corner, refusing to step into the elevator until everyone else, if anyone, had come out. To his relief, the small room was empty, giving him the opening he needed. Once inside, he pulled on his boots and zipped up his jacket before jamming a finger against the control panel.

A bright yellow "4" appeared at the top of the elevator as the doors opened. It would be far easier to take the elevator down a couple floor before taking the back stairs that, undoubtedly, would lead to the alleyway. He snuck down the hall, grabbing an unopened soda can from the counter as he passed. They wouldn't miss it, and he wouldn't have shit to eat after leaving, anyway. As he shoved the can into his jacket pocket, the sound of voices and footsteps reached his ears.

Without enough time to think rationally, Alec sprinted down the hall and into the closest room, quietly closing the door behind himself. The room, like all the others, was dark and bleak with a television hanging on the wall across from the patient's bed. He slipped into the bathroom, prepared to close the door when a voice beckoned him.

"Hey, kid. You got a moment?"

Alec flinched as he stepped out of the bathroom, fearing that the patient would report him. But he complied, stepping around the curtain to stare into the face of a rather solemn-looking man. Alec fought back a laugh, noting that the man was hardly in a position to be in the hospital. From what he could tell, the man had nothing wrong with him. But he could be wrong. He could have easily had a bone-marrow transplant, or even a mental breakdown.

He leaned back on the heels of his boots, hand clinging to the curtain. What was the deal? Was this old man going to stare at him all night, or say something? He didn't have time to waste with the nonsense of fools.

"What the hell do you want?" Alec snarled, yanking the soda out of his pocket. "I've gotta get the hell out of here before they put me back in that damned room."

The man laughed lightly, turning to stare out into the rain that pelted the window. "You ever done something you've seriously regretted?" He paused, turning to stare at Alec again. "I'm not talking about shit like stealing money from a cash register or nothing like that. I mean something serious. Something that ruined lives."

Alec stared incredulously at the man. "Do I look like I'm old enough to have ruined someone's life? I'm only seventeen! What the hell kind of damage could I do, huh? Cause my parents trouble and get myself sent to the detention center? Please..."

What a liar he was. Of course he regretted his actions. He just couldn't bring himself to say what else he wanted to. It would have been so easy to just say, "I fucked up, but it doesn't matter. I don't have any parents... They left me behind, and took my sister with them..." But that would be wrong. A desecration to their memory. Although they were gone, he'd already done more than enough to shame them...

I'm sorry... Mom, Dad... Meghan... I'm just the opposite of what you wanted me to be...

The hypnotic sound of the rain against the window warranted Alec's full attention, leaving him in a peaceful daze. Even as the door opened and shut, he failed to notice, lost amidst the darkened city outside the window. He flinched, clutching his head in pain as he began to fall, a hand catching him by the hair before he hit the ground. Still in shock, he could only watch in confusion as his attacker pushed him closer to the window, ultimately forcing him through the glass and out onto the roof.

The muffled sound of a gunshot in the rain made him wince as the bullet struck his body, plummeting him into the dark.

Cliffhangers. My specialty.