Thank you all for the reviews! I really am starting to love this story!

After that day, they all paid more attention to me, the curvy, mousy doctor that held no real sway amongst them. I drifted through the nightmarish play that was my current predicament, and they followed my actions, their curious and malicious eyes watching each step I took, each move I made. Every word I spoke, they listened to, but never questioned. If they respected me, or even liked me, they did so in silence. It seemed as though I was the only one with a voice, as though I could say words without fear, without retribution. The act of caring for their men, I wondered, seemed to raise their opinions of me. Perhaps they gossiped over why I would help them willingly. Perhaps they argued about my motives. Who knows, they kept to themselves, in the end. I tried to talk to them, asking simple things, never daring to ask about the terms of my freedom, or their plans for me and the scientist, and they would have the courtesy to answer my questions, talk to me about idle issues, but we both avoided the real concern. I was their hostage, and they had to assert their control over me.

Which was why, when evening fell on the first night, I began to grow nervous. Most of them by this point had started to drink, gamble, and if any of them did any drugs, they never did it around me. I tried to keep myself busy by attending to the wounded clowns, and occasionally checking in on Mr. Derby, changing the damp cloth I had placed on his forehead, checking his temperature, and so on, but there came a point when I realised that I would have to sleep somewhere and I would not sleep in Derby's tent, not with his arm, still twitching as he slept, filling me with nightmares.

At some point during the evening, they had turned on the overhead lights, and I had emerged from the tent, blinking in the bright lights, to find myself kneeling before some clowns. It seemed that Rugby, the clown that had prepared me the stainless steel table before, was leading this little team.

I shivered before them, hoping, praying, that they weren't going to grab me suddenly, duck behind some foul smelling crates and take me. I could see on the clowns' faces that they would love to do some really nasty things to me, but held back due to the all too real fear of being punished by the Joker.

I stood up as Rugby spoke softly, "We did you a bed."

It sounds really Oxford of me, but I was stumped by his grammar for a few seconds.

"Sorry?" My heartbeat was pounding in my ears.

"The lads and I found you a bed you could use." He said, jabbing his thumb behind him. "We done it up some, so you can sleep right."

I smiled genuinely. "Thank you, that's very nice of you. I could do with some rest, but let me just check on your friends before I retire."

Rugby nodded, and they began to talk amongst themselves as I checked on the injured clowns. Earlier that day, someone had handed me some needles and thread, and I had sloppily managed to stitch up some of the more serious injuries, but most of them hadn't needed it. Whoever Batman was, he knew how to injure men without seriously harming them. He knew how to handle his weapons. I had gathered some information from the injured clowns as I was attending to them, and as far as I could tell, they had been on some rooftop across from the bank, and Batman snuck up on them, taking away their knives and managed to cut his way through the group, disabling a few without much effort, but someone pulled a gun and narrowly missed shooting Batman in the arm, and he soon left. It seemed that for a man who could deal a lot of damage, he couldn't take it. I once had the fortune of assisting Batman in one of his … missions? I'm not sure what he would call it, it was some unusual task and he wanted my opinion on some criminal he was up against. I remember forwarding him my notes on one of the super criminals onto his PDA, and he had seemed gruff and impersonal, though, to be honest, it wasn't really the time for 'Hello, how are you?'

I was quickly withdrawn from my thoughts of Batman by Rugby, who was impatient to show me my 'bed'. I followed his little team to the tea room that Rugby and I had raided before, and smiled as I realised that they had done more than make me a bed, they had hastily and clumsily cleaned up the dusty tea room to make me a bedroom. Truthfully, it could hardly be called a bedroom. One of them had pushed all of the boxes, crates and other large items to the other side of the room, which left long trails of dust-free floor, while another had pulled one of the couches into the room and thrown a few soggy cushions and a moth eaten blanket onto it. To me, though, it looked like heaven.

"Thank you!" I said, beaming. "This is wonderful."

Rugby grinned. "Hoped you like it."

I nodded sadly as I realised that I mean the next two words I would speak. "I do."

The other men awkwardly smiled at me when I looked at them, and they soon shuffled out of the large, empty room. I looked around me, staring at every inch in silence. Every word I wanted to scream, every second that I couldn't truly have to myself, every tear I could not shed anymore, filled the room and choked me. I choked on the silence, the endless time, the unbearable feeling that I might never escape.

I was not supposed to smile and beam at them. I was not supposed to be doing this. I needed to stop.

I crawled onto the couch, and pulled the blanket up around me. I wrinkled my face at the smell of lime that the cloth produced, and slowly fiddled with it, creating a long thin shape with it, and hugged it, pretending that it was an arm. I fell asleep, knees drawn up to my chest, hugging the arm blanket, trying to hate the men stood outside my door, laughing amongst themselves, and dreamt of shadows, twitching bloodied smiles, and the colour green.

There was screams. That was definitely true. It was misty and foggy in my dream, there was no definite shapes or colours, but there was screaming. It was a man's voice, someone that I knew, and I found myself screaming along with the man, holding my hands over my ears.

"Dr. Addly!"

I was still screaming. Hands grabbed me around my shoulders, and I found myself looking up into the eyes of Rugby.

"I…" I was tearing up, my eyes blurry as he gently shook me.

"Dr. Derby needs you. He's screaming his head off. He won't let anyone near him, and says he'll only talk to you." Rugby gushed, bringing me to my feet.

"Yes, I'll see to him." I cried, realising that my nightmare had merged with real life.

I fixed my hair, strands of my red hair falling out of my bun, and adjusted my pencil suit. Rugby guided me over to the tent, cradling my elbow in his hand, and we heard a salacious and deadly voice ring out,

"Paging Dr. Addly!"

Rugby and I approached the Joker, who was stood outside Derby's Tent. Our eyes met, and he licked his lips distastefully, jittering about as he fidgeted with some knife in his hands.

"Pleasant dreams, Doc?" He asked, grinning. He wanted me to know that he knew I had screamed in my sleep.

"Fine, thank you." I said, pausing to address him.

I could Rugby tense beside me as the Joker's eyes drifted down to where his hand held my elbow carefully, but I kept my gaze on the Joker's face, determined to win this round of chicken.

"Making friends I see." He said, our eyes reconnecting. His hands twitched, and I flinched inwardly.

"Yes." I said, trying hard not to cry, as light reflected off of the knives he held, into my eyes.

"You must be cold, you're shivering so much!" He cackled, leaning forward.

I hadn't realised that I was trembling. So much for self control. I heard whimpers and moans emerge from the tent, and it swiftly built up my bravery.

"Do you want me to help this man or do you just want to torture me?" I asked, in a sudden burst of courage, desperate to help Dr. Derby.

"Oooh, Choices." He laughed giddily, bouncing from one step to another. "Unusual choice of words too!"

Of all of the things I could have said, I regretted saying that the most. I gritted my teeth as another muffled whimper surfaced from the tent.

"From the sounds of it," I commented, pausing for effect, "He sounds like he's in real pain, and I will need to treat him as soon as possible, or he'll be useless to you. Or you could keep me here, and pointlessly annoy me. Your choice."

He raised an eyebrow. "My choice? Reminds me of something. A real funny something. You wanna hear a story? You wanna hear how I got my scars-"

I held up one hand to stop him. "Do we have the time?"

He licked his lips, and held up one knife to my face. "We will when I carve you a new face."

I held very still, watching his face as my lips quivering. His eyes, I noticed, were a dark mix of amber and green, which flashed angrily before me. His eyes followed his knife, which drew itself against my full, pink lips, and he began the trace the edges of my lips with his knife, his eyes focused on them. I watched as his pupils shrank to pinpoints, and was about to question this in my head, but they went back to their normal size, and his pulled himself away.

"Nah, wouldn't be fun." He said, twirling the knife around his fingers. "You look like you'd enjoy it."

I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant, but he grabbed my shoulder and pushed me down onto my hands and knees. He walked around my body, viewing it happily, as though I was an interesting piece of art, and placed his boot on my skirt. He cackled, and pushed me into the tent.

I knelt inside the tent, beside the drifting flaps of the tent that formed the entrance, and pulled a face as I tried to figure out what exactly the Joker had meant throughout that little charade, but was quickly distracted by the sight of Dr. Derby waving his arm in the arm, clutching onto the boneless remains of his pale white arm.