Author's Note: Hello all. Thank you for your kind words, thoughts follows, and favorites. It makes me feel amazing. I wanted to let everyone know I will be doing a massive update to all current chapters. In all honesty, I read through, and I found a ton of things that need some fixing. I'm sure I will still miss many things, but it will make me feel better. So, I apologize if you get a thousand e-mail notifications. I know that's annoying.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter. Let me know your thoughts below :)

"I will not let you do this." Gordon didn't attempt to mask his frustration. His usual kind face had hardened during our conversation, agitated by my resolve to do the unexpected.

"What alternative is there? Running? How are you going to protect me? The Joker knows where I live. Is your friend, the Batman willing to keep me safe because I'm not willing to go into hiding for the rest of my life."

Gordon meant well; anyone could see that. That's why I bolted to the police station at first light to find him. Unable to wait for our scheduled meeting, I burst into the police station, demanding to speak to Jim Gordon. The combination of many sleepless nights and my jittery demeanor from an entire pot of coffee caught attention. Thankfully, Jim escorted me into the privacy of his small office quickly.

"Natalie, this is your life. This isn't a game."

I frowned, "It is a game, though. The Joker's made sure of that."

"What do you think you can accomplish here?" Attempting to prove his point further, he threw open his desk drawer. Tossing a mound of thick, overflowing files on top, he pointed at the pile, eyeing my reaction. "This is every known account the Joker is responsible for in Gotham. If you need any more reason to not go to Arkham, I suggest you glance through it. Go ahead; I won't stop you."

After the Joker's impromptu visit last night, I stayed up, imagining how this conversation with Gordon would play out. Judging by Gordon's pained expression, it was going as well as can be expected.

"Tell me what's happened since the last time we met. Because the girl I saw a few days ago was too terrified and full of regret to do anything like this. "

Leaning back in my chair, I shook my head back and forth. "I can't tell you unless I have some guarantee."

"Natalie, the type of guarantee you're looking is hard to come by. It would take considerable effort to convince our District Attorney that's a deal worth making. The Joker's track record of escaping Arkham won't be in your favor."

Ordinarily, if a person ranted about my inability to make a sound decision, I would have stormed out of the room, or held my own. But I bit my tongue. Because as I watched Gordon list the multitude of reasons I should drop the story, I recognized the signs of someone who cared deeply about my life.

"Gordon, this isn't just about him," I confessed softly. Leaning against the desk, I thumbed the edge of the file. "I think someone is going to reintroduce drugs to the orphanage. I don't see that I have a choice here. Even if I did, I don't think I can walk away knowing that information."

His voice remained firm and unwilling to budge on the issue, "You're too close to the situation to make the right call."

Determined to make him understand, I conceded and recounted the night at the club, leaving nothing to chance. I ran through the events, describing the man who tried to make a deal with the Joker. Gordon even jotted down details as I spoke. But when I got to the end of the story, his mouth formed into a thin line, "He shot him, Gordon. He shot him in front of me. I've witnessed a fucking murder. And I don't think it will be the only crime I'm witness too."

"You won't be witness to anything else, Natalie. I'm not going to let you go. You're not equipped to deal with this."

Raising up, I nodded in agreeance. "I know you're right. I also know I won't let the conditions of the orphanage return to what they were. I worked to the brink of exhaustion to get the living conditions publicized. So, I'm doing this. Maybe I'll find out who's behind it. Regardless I will be going to Arkham, just like he wants." As I spoke and rambled on about my life, my conviction grew, and Gordon's waned.

Swiveling in his chair, Gordon stared out the sole window. He pulled off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose, "You're not a police officer. You're not a detective. What you are is stubborn, and it's going to get you killed."

Skipping past his comment, I tried bringing the point home, "What do you think the Joker's planning?"

Refusing to look at me, Gordon gestured at the stack of papers. "If any of that is an indication of what that maniac wants, then there is no telling what might happen."

Seizing the opportunity, I let my train of thought be known, "Well, what do you think happens if you prevent me from going to Arkham? I think he will find me, he will kill me, and then another person will go in my place. At least, with me, you know. Isn't that better than nothing?"

Gordon opened his mouth to say something but instead produced a long, and tired sigh. Facing me, I watched his brow furrow, and eyes droop, "Go home. You won't be alone when you're at Arkham. I promise you that much."

Rising out of his chair, he motioned toward the door. Our conversation was over. I would say I won, but I knew this wasn't a victory. Grabbing my arm, he issued the warning, "Natalie, you know it was no coincidence what happened the other night, don't you?

Confused but too tired to question, I nodded in response and left quickly. Keeping my head down, I exited the station. There was still plenty of light left in the day, so I walked, mulling over Gordon's words. Yes, the Joker arranged that meeting on purpose. Sure, I admitted the idea had been a form of torture, flaunting my past like dirty laundry. But I hadn't considered it a ploy. Did the Joker expect the knowledge to be my motivation? I shuddered at the thought. If that were true, the Joker orchestrated events far past what I could see. How much of my life was he in control of now?

Ambling through the streets, I weighed the possibilities. All in all, I suppose it didn't matter. I had officially crossed off the possibility of running. The flight response wasn't an option. Honestly it probably never was an option.

Shoving my hands in my coat pockets, I focused on my thudding footsteps against the concrete sidewalk. I buried the bottom of my face in the collar, breathing against the fabric. Strolling through the streets of Gotham, I pretended to be an everyday boring citizen. Unfortunately, I arrived at my apartment, longing for that sense of a normal monotonous life to continue. Instead, the ding of an e-mail floating into my inbox brought me back to my hellish reality.

Arkham Interview

Natalie, your interview is with Dr. Jeremiah Crane. Before you ask, yes, he is related to the infamous Jonathan Crane. (Don't address this unless he openly discusses it). This assignment is a simple dive into his new method of "curing" the criminally insane at Arkham.

Security has been informed of your visit. Take two forms of ID with you when you go. They will issue you a visitor's badge, and Dr. Crane will meet you at the Visitor's Center. He's given us half an hour of his time.

The remainder of Joel's e-mail contained one or two questions he would like me to address. He even listed directions to Arkham Island before giving thanks again on my willingness to take the piece.

Dropping my coat on the floor, I shuffled over to the dresser rereading the details of the e-mail carefully. Grabbing a notebook, I scribbled down the things Joel wanted as well as a few questions to ask the good doctor myself. My evening now required dedicated research into the background of Dr. Jeremiah Crane.

Crawling onto my bed, I reached for the two cards resting on my bedside table. The two Jokers danced and laughed gleefully. Did the Joker consider Dr. Crane, a friend? Flipping them over, I studied the front and back in search of a meaning. I hadn't told Gordon about these, about assuming the role of the Joker's messenger. I reasoned it didn't matter because tomorrow, I would find out who these belonged too. Tomorrow, I would go to Arkham Asylum.