"What's the matter, Princess?" he said after I did not respond to his kiss. I couldn't help it. I just stared. They were the eyes that I had been dying to see, the lips I had wanted to feel so badly. The smirk was so clearly fixed upon his face that I was forced to believe it wasn't just my imagination. His gloved fingers suddenly grasped my chin tightly, but I had become so used to that. I barely even responded to it either. "What's wrong with you?" he said again. It sounded as if he was speaking more to himself than to me. Again, I said nothing, though my lips had parted as if I were going to. I wanted to; I just didn't know what to say. But before I could think of anything, he tossed my face to the side with a frustrated snarl. "Go through all this trouble to save a woman, and I don't even get a thank you."

My head snapped back up. I gritted my teeth. All this trouble to save me? I wondered how much trouble it took him, and wished that it had taken even more. He noticed my reaction finally and approached me again, the same smirk planted across his red lips. For a moment, we just stood there under the fluorescent lights. His face was a cool smirk; mine had turned into a dangerous glare. I waited until his mouth opened, until the red lips moved to form more words. After that, I threw all my weight into my right arm. It instantly shot back and then forward again, a right hook that went straight into the Joker's jaw. It made me even dizzier to do it, but he deserved it. I watched him fall to the ground from the force of my punch, laughing while he did so. And then I got down onto my knees, pressing my right one into his back to keep him on the floor. "Save me!" I cried, finally finding my voice. I grabbed a fistful of the greasy hair and pulled his head up, forcing him to look at me. "You let me rot!" I shouted in his face. "I sat here and took shock treatments and medication that I didn't need!" My voice rose from shouts to shrieks within seconds, until I was almost in tears and screaming in his face. "You let him rape me! For months! I laid in this damned room at night, wishing I would die, that I could kill myself!"

My breathing had increased from my incredible anger, and I picked the Joker's head up even more and then slammed it straight into the tiled floor. There was no response from him whatsoever when I brought it back up. "You went through so much trouble?" I screamed and slammed his forehead down again, until a line of blood began to trace its way down his face. "And you want a thank you?" Again, and the blood increased. So did his smile. So did my anger. "FUCK YOU!"

I thought I was going to kill him. Part of me wanted to do it, and I even began to lift up his head again by the green strands of hair. But the Joker caught me completely off guard and rolled over to the left. I lost my balance, underestimating how strong he was. I had forgotten, and I had probably lost a definite amount of weight while in Arkham. My right knee fell to the floor instead, making me straddle his waist. His hands instantly seized my wrists to keep me from fighting back. The Joker brought my arms down to the floor then, pinning my forearms to the tile with his hands. I was forced down close to him, so that our lips almost touched again. "I'm sure you want to," was all he said. The blood had dripped onto his lips now, and he licked them before laughing right in my face.

I snarled with my jaw clenched tight, fighting to try to bring my arms back up from the floor. But he wouldn't let up. "Let go of me!" I shrieked, pulling left and right to try to loosen his grip. Suddenly, all at once, he let go. I flew backward from trying to pull away so hard and fell onto the floor. Before I could fight him back again, the Joker stood up and wiped the blood from his mouth and side of his face. Looking at the blood on his hands, I saw his eyes move back to me. Without warning, he brought the back of his bloodied hand across my cheek.

He used the same hand to restrain me again, this time by wrapping his fingers around my neck. He clenched it tightly, tighter than he ever had to me before, that I could remember. I reached up and grabbed his wrist, with both of my hands. My fingernails began to dig into it, struggling to get him to let go. But he didn't; he only lifted me up against the wall from the floor. "You want me to let go?" he muttered, dangerously. Like mine, his voice rose quickly, to a furious undertone. "You want to rot here again?" His grip tightened. I had to fight to breathe. "Or do you still want to die?" he continued. "Because I can do that too! I got through it when I thought you were dead, and I can do it again, especially if I know for sure that you're no longer breathing and that it was by my hands, Princess!"

The Joker let go of my neck. I fell, slid right down onto the floor again while I tried to breathe regularly. I coughed loudly, and my ragged breathing continued just as it had when I was angry. Though all of it had mysteriously disappeared. "You thought I was dead?" My voice cracked as I tried to pick myself up off the ground. The medication I had taken a few hours before was fighting against me. If I moved too fast, suddenly there would be two Jokers standing in front of me and coming in and out of focus.

"Well I haven't seen too many people survive a gunshot wound to the gut!" he retorted, facing the doorway and looking out into the hallway. I suspected he was looking for anyone who might be around. "Except Batman." I could sense the eye-roll that he did in the tone of his voice. When he came back, I could see him looking at my awkward stance: leaning against the wall with my head against it to stay steady. "What's the matter with you?"

I was embarrassed, even more so when I saw the blood that continued to flow from the wound in his head. He seemed to not even notice it. It was hard for me to keep my eyes off of it. "They put me on medication," I answered. "To help me sleep. I can barely stand up straight without seeing blurry doubles of everything."

He gave a chuckle and just looked at me. "People are always making things even more difficult," he said, reaching behind him to pull something out. I noticed the gun before he even loaded it and handed it over to me. "Grin and bear it, Princess, and just try to hit what you aim for." I looked at the gun with extreme reluctance. When I didn't move forward, the Joker grabbed my wrist and pressed the pistol into my hand. "You've already killed someone," he said, holding my fingers tightly around it. "Just gets easier from there." My fingers remained wrapped around it as he backed away toward the door again. "You either follow me or use that pistol to kill yourself."

For a moment, I was shocked at what he said. I didn't think he actually wanted me to, but then why say things like that? I looked down at the gun, then around the room. I had the chance to get out. Finally. Glancing back up, I waited for my vision to become clear before pushing off from against the wall. Instantly, a wave of nausea swept over me. The sooner we escaped, the sooner I would be able to rest, I hoped. "Lead the way, then," I muttered, and followed the Joker into the halls of Arkham.

We were on the lowest level. That was all that I knew about the schematics of the asylum from memory. The Joker led the way through several hallways past many of the cells. When we began to make our way to Secure Transit, we had to go through cells that had open bars in them. I nearly ran into the Joker as he suddenly stopped walking, just before going into them. "You know," he said, smirking back at me. "A lot of these guys haven't seen a woman in years." His shoulders shook with laughter as he reloaded his gun. "Don't get caught, Princess."

All the guards that had been on the job were either distracted or dead. We were able to just walk through the entire asylum. I had begun to understand why getting in had been so difficult. Alarms were set to go off in specific places, where traps were set for the guards that came to them. Joker had hacked the entire security system in order to get around it and trick everyone inside. By the time we got to the cells, I would have admitted a little appreciation for the trouble he had gone through.

The patients inside these cells took me aback. Their clothes were ripped and hanging off of them after all the weight loss they had gone through while staying at Arkham. Many of them were filthy and missing teeth and hair. Sure enough, as soon as they saw me, they would go flying toward the bars. Their calloused hands and yellow fingernails would claw for me, trying to rip my clothes or catch my legs as I walked by. If my arms hadn't been tucked behind the Joker's back, I would have aimed the gun at them. But I had to stay close to him, since they seemed to be afraid whenever he let a round of bullets go into the floor by their bare feet.

The door to Secure Transit closed, and I released a breath I had been holding for several seconds. I looked back over my shoulder, feeling the need to do so after walking through the asylum. The gun I had remained tucked into the back of my pants. I felt odd holding it and had been afraid of holding it at Joker's back. Before I could look back around, a strong arm was wrapped around my neck. The Joker pulled me up against him, and I panicked as the barrel of his gun was pressed onto my temple. "Not so sure of ourselves now, are we?"

I would have fought back if I hadn't noticed someone standing right in front of me. Apparently, Batman had gotten the alert that something was happening inside Arkham. The caped crusader stood before me, stock-still. I gasped in a breath. "Let her go," he warned.

"Oh," the Joker's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Right, because I'm just going to do whatever you say." He laughed again. I felt his chest rise and fall against my back. I would have leaned into it had the situation not been what it was. It was always cold inside the asylum, but the Joker was a radiation of warmth, having come from the city outside. For a moment, no one moved or said anything. I was getting impatient. What if Batman made me stay in the asylum? What if the Joker did? What if he made me stay? "Alright," he finally said, and let go of me. Unbeknownst to Batman, Joker pushed me forward, urging me to go. I walked without looking back. I knew what he was doing. And just as I moved to stand behind Batman, I grabbed the gun from behind me. There was a click, and the Bat instantly knew what was behind him.

"Don't move," I ordered him. Of course he tried to protest as Joker moved toward me. "I'm not going back there!" I shouted. "I never belonged there in the first place! And not even Gotham's famous hero came to save me. Instead came the most infamous killer."

"I didn't know what they were doing to you, Rose!" he shouted back. His back was still to me, and he didn't move as the Joker came and stood behind me. "You were Gotham's heroine. Don't betray it!"

My lips curved up as I suddenly laughed. "Like anybody knew I was actually there!" I cried through it. "Gotham betrayed me first! I was helpless, kidnapped, in the hospital, and yet the only person who was there to protect me was the same person who got me sent to Arkham. Go figure!"

He said something else, but I didn't listen any longer. I was fighting the urge to pass out, and the exit was extremely close. Our walk through the asylum turned into a sprint now that we knew Batman had come. Nothing stopped him for good, not even a gun. We had a few seconds of a head start, but it wasn't much. Once out the doors, there were vans that waited for us. There was one road that led from Arkham Island to Gotham City. And in order to make it all the way to the city, we would have to beat the Batmobile's speed across the bridge. "Get going!" Joker ordered to the waiting driver as soon as we were in the back of the large van. It was suddenly moving just as the door barely closed.

I was out of breath from running, and had to lean back against the wall of the van to keep from losing whatever consciousness or stomach contents I had left. I finally got to close my eyes and felt a sense of relief, even though I knew we weren't completely safe yet. The Joker seemed to have finally noticed he was still bleeding. He was wiping the blood off of his face and dabbing at the wound with a rag he had pulled out of the pocket of his suit. The fact that it was already covered in blood made me think it was originally used for cleaning his knives. There were several moments of silence as we drove. Having been a few hours already, I could feel the medication finally starting to wear off. I was drowsy, given that it was the middle of the night. But the nausea and dizziness was leaving. I could see clearly enough, and I finally said something. "Thank you."

xxx

A few miles into Gotham, and there was still no sign that we were being followed. I figured the escape into the van must not have been seen by anyone. But I did wonder why the police had not shown up at Arkham as soon as they got the alert. Were they just that slow? I thought so as soon as a racing GCPD car sped past us on the road. Then again, Joker had apparently done a lot of planning. Maybe he had formed a plan to distract the police with something else, leaving Batman to handle Arkham alone.

The van finally pulled over at a curb next to what I guessed was another abandoned apartment complex. I was wrong. It wasn't abandoned. I was surprised to see that people actually lived there. Names were on the doorbells and mailboxes. What had happened to the half-finished houses and the old apartment buildings? I didn't ask when we got into the elevator, and the man at the main door barely even looked up as the infamous Joker walked past him. It wasn't until we reached the top floor and had gone into an apartment that I got to say anything. The different henchmen went into their own apartments as well. "What happened to the abandoned places?" I finally asked.

The Joker threw his jacket, gun, knives, and bloodied rag onto the table. "They always look in the abandoned places," he said, turning toward me with a growing smirk. "They never look where innocent people are residing. They think I wouldn't be able to resist killing everyone in sight."

I watched as he sat down on the couch. "Would you?"

A few seconds passed where he didn't answer me, only stood up again and went into the next room to the right of us. I followed without thinking, straight into the bedroom that was across from the bathroom. "You know the funny thing about being crazy?" he said, just as I walked in. He had pulled off the purple, latex gloves and was working at unbuttoning the green vest that was over the purple dress shirt. I watched him toss it aside as if it were nothing. "It's that I'm not," he continued after I didn't say anything. I only watched him undo each button on the shirt. "My emotions are perfectly there," he interrupted himself with a laugh. "Well, some of them. I just like to think I'm the best at keeping them hidden."

He approached me, and I almost took a step back. His chest was bare, the dividing lines of his toned stomach moving as he did. The defining muscles of his arms did the same until he trapped me against the wall near the door, pressing his hands against it on either side of my head. "Why are you telling me this?" I finally asked, truly curious.

Another bit of silence, and he moved again. The Joker pushed off the wall and walked past me suddenly. I turned just as he walked into the bathroom and turned on the light. I could see him glaring at himself in the mirror. His eyes shifted to me. "Because you think I'm just as crazy as they do." I jumped as I heard the water suddenly turn on. I had looked away once his eyes turned to me. I feared the ways he could make me feel just by looking at me. "Clean yourself up." I looked up again, between him and the drawn shower curtain. He leaned against the open door. My heart suddenly skipped a beat, and I hesitated, stepping back a bit. "Doc's gone, Princess," he said without moving his position. "You killed him, remember?"

I froze. It was true. He was dead. "I should be more afraid," I said suddenly. "After months of it. Normal women would be."

The Joker laughed at me. I had expected it, but it sounded harsher than I had wanted. "Normal women don't usually get revenge on the one who did it. You shoved a scalpel through his body over thirty times, Princess. That's not normal." The smirk came back. "That's crazy."

I sighed lightly, knowing he was right. Or at least, it sounded right. It was plausible and probable that I was not as affected by the rape as I should have been because I had permanently gotten rid of who did it; something that normal victims did not get the chance to do. Was that why I still wasn't afraid of the Joker? I was too confused and tired to think about it, but I wanted to know. Why wasn't I afraid? "I guess it is," I muttered, sounding defeated. Still, I walked into the bathroom and drew back the curtain a bit to feel the water inside. It was warm, but not hot enough to need to get used to. Hesitating for just a moment, I lifted my hands to the orange buttons of the Arkham shirt I had worn for months. I turned back toward the Joker again, who was watching with the familiar smile on his face. I formed one to match as the top fell to the bathroom floor. "I guess that makes two of us, Jack."