A/N: Sorry this is kinda short, but I wanted to get something out. I'll be at a writing thing for a couple weeks, but I'll try to keep writing. I probably won't get anything published but I'll probably get a few chapters out when I come back.
And I just realized a few days ago that I intended this to be humor. It's kind of more dark though, isn't it? I'll change it after I publish this.

And I know everyone says this, but really, I want to know how well I'm doing with the Joker. That was my main worry with writing a Joker story. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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Chapter Four: Thoughts

The police took her statement, but they didn't take the memory of that poor girl's face. They gave her three men to guard her, but no one would ever give her absolution.

She knew her hero complex was spiraling out of control, but she also knew she could've tried something. She could've-- should've tried something, but she didn't. She even let him touch her.

The lady-- Fiona Carpenter-- was in the hospital. She'd tried killing herself in her dead daughter's bedroom. Sam's uncle was recovering, if slowly, but Sam could tell he was scared.

Everyone was scared. And she hadn't even told anyone but the police that he knew her name! She knew it'd probably get out eventually. She didn't know whether the press would be interested in it, but even if they weren't her family could get it. The press knew the police were rotting from all angles (outwards, downwards, backwards, and probably even diagonally and in zig-zags.) and her family had a few friends in the police force.

Sam was going insane with cabin fever. No one had wanted her to leave the house, but it had been a few days and she was sick of caring what other people wanted.

"I'm leaving!" Sam yelled, grabbing her purse and walking through her mom's apartment. "The guards'll be with me."

Sam didn't wait to hear her mom's protests. She ran.

-

The three guards ran behind her, of course. Only one of them didn't know the plan that would start in exactly two days.

-

Sam ran to the park she'd been so peaceful in only weeks before. She knew it was hopeless to try to get that feeling of relaxation again. No. Not when the calm memories of see-sawing with her dad and swinging to touch the tree's leaves had been replaced with a new memory. The memory of ice running through her veins as she heard those words. "He's had a heart attack," Sam muttered, scoffing her tennis shoes against the picnic table's bench.

Sam traced the star on her knee like she had been practically obsessively for the past few days. It felt like she'd drawn it eons ago, but the calendar looming over her bed at home told her she was insane.

She laid back on the table, staring at the clouds. It was a normal day. Children were playing, falling, yelling. Parents were watching, smiling, talking.

Sam was just drifting off when her cell phone started ringing. Her eyes widened and she searched through her purse frantically, wondering if this park was bad luck.

"Mom? Are you okay?"

Sam's mom sounded cross. "Of course I'm not, with you runnin' off like that! You got mail, though. From a J. Smith. Looks interesting."

Sam sighed. "Of course, Mom. I'll be home before dinner."

"I'm not making dinner, can't you remember anything? I'm off to see Louis. Take care." The line was dead before Sam's mouth had even opened. She dropped the phone dejectedly before returning to her thoughts.

After a few hours of all sorts of thoughts, Sam was interrupted by one of the officers. She'd noticed the other two whispered a lot and figured he was the new guy.

Sympathy or empathy or pity or some stupid emotion. That's what she would tell herself, later, that made her let him sit next to her.

"Evan Whitmoore," the man said, sticking his hand out and smiling earnestly. "The other guys seemed eager to talk about somethin' private, so I decided to take my break."

Sam smiled a little and shook his hand. "Are they really good friends or something?"

"Brothers, they told me. But they look mighty different to me. Ain't my business, though."

Sam smiled a little more this time, hearing her dad's country accent eerily through this man. "I guess every family has a black sheep."

Evan grinned widely. "Ain't that the truth."

Sam was about to respond when she realized how dark it was getting. "Oh, man. We'd better get moving."

And another day without him was gone.

-

Compared to the average Gothamite (but what Gothamite was average?), Sam was sad. Compared to the average human, Sam was counting the days with a bit of depression. Compared to the Joker, however, Sam was completely suicidal.

In fact, while Sam was walking home and going to sleep, the Joker was hopping around his office, gleefully shooting holes in the wall and knocking over stacks of paper left by the late previous tenant. (In fact, the Joker jumped on him a few times, but was disappointed with the differences between his stomach and a trampoline.)

He'd just come up with a brilliant idea. Hostage situations were getting so, uh, dull. And although dull knives were fun sometimes, dull times were just unacceptable!

Abruptly, the Joker stopped jumping and cackling and started licking his lips and thinking again. There were a few more situations to consider before things started rolling.

First, he'd need a background check. Then, an insider to torture.

Oh, yes. Yes, this would be fun.