A/N- Thanks for all those wonderful reviews on the last chapter! I'm really excited to be writing this one, which is a chapter that I've been looking forward to since chapter 1. I hope you all enjoy it too.

Chapter 10- Dance with the Devil

Dawn had never noticed just how much they all stared at her. But, as she passed out tray after tray the next night at Arkham, she saw how every single pair of eyes of each inmate was glued to her. Every so often they did drift, but it was only to scan her form. The guard that followed her around did not seem to notice, and, if he did, he must have thought that it was only the fact that a pretty girl was feeding them. Finally, when all the trays had been handed out—save for those who were having their recreational time, meaning that someone else would feed them once they had been brought back—Dawn sighed. At least the Joker had been one of those out on recreational time. Necessary or not, she was just not ready to face him again. Not yet.

She dropped the tray bus off at the asylum kitchen and made her way to the orderly station at the front of the asylum. Dawn reached back, tightening her ponytail back into place. It was a long night, and she had only gotten in three hours ago. She fought down a yawn, finding it ill-placed because she had gotten plenty of sleep the day before. She reached up and gingerly touched her fingertips to the underneath of each of her eyes, checking for bags. When she found none, she let out a little sigh of relief. Apparently, it was not getting to her as badly as she thought it was.

"Five more to go," she said as she checked her watch upon reaching the desk, the man sitting behind it—Steve—looking up to smile at her.

She chuckled as she shrugged. "Sorry," she muttered.

But Steve shook his head. "Hey, we all feel it. Consider counting the hours until go time your official initiation into working here, kiddo."

"Yay," Dawn deadpanned, twirling one index finger in the air.

Steve laughed again, standing. He muttered a "catch you later" as he grabbed up a paperwork-filled clipboard and took off in the opposite direction from which Dawn had just come. She sighed, leaning her back against the front desk.

The halls were spotless, the inmates that were in their cells were fed, and all the proper paperwork had been filled out. Until further notice, Dawn had jack left to do. She would have never guessed this to be the job to want to bring a book to, but she was seriously considering it for her next shift. She groaned, leaning her head way back so that only the ceiling occupied her line of sight.

In truth, she could have been putting this time to better use. She could be talking with a few more of the inmates, trying to see how they felt about a glowing girl serving them their dinner, or she could have been looking for a way to access any of the Joker's blood samples in the lab. But Dawn only stood there, continuing to stare up at the ceiling. She had always been the type to make gut decisions, do what felt right, and, right now, none of those options felt like the one she ought to go with. After all, what would her employers do if they caught her talking about glowing to the inmates? Or stealing from the lab? The termination of her employment, in either situation, would be the best that she could hope for.

At that moment, the familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking on the freshly-dried floors echoed in the air. Dawn brought her eyes back down to Earth in time to see Alisha fighting with her purse, presumably trying to get her keys out. Nice to know that other people had that problem too.

"Dawn, oh, thank God," she said, skidding to a halt amongst a storm of her own blonde curls. "I was hoping I would run into someone I could trust."

Dawn lifted a brow. What had she done to deserve that little compliment? But Alisha did not seem to notice the younger woman's confusion, instead fumbling with the keys that she had finally recovered.

"I've got to head out; family emergency. I only got the call a few minutes ago. Anyway, I was in the middle of helping the guards transport the patients from the Rec Room back to the cells. I hate to ask someone who's only be here for a such a short time to do this—as you know—but you did so well on your own last time. Could you go fill in for me?"

The familiar tugging feeling in the bottom of Dawn's stomach alerted her to the fact that, apparently, she felt that this was a good idea. Trying hard to not smile in a self-appreciative way, she nodded.

"I'm on it," she said, laying a sympathetic hand on her superior's shoulder. "I hope everything works out with your family emergency."

Alisha spread her crimson lips into a grateful smile. "Me too. But we both better go. See you tomorrow night… you do work then, yeah?"

"Yeah. Bye," Dawn said.

She began to move past her, and stopped. Turning, Dawn eyed the retreating figure of Alisha as she made her exit out of Arkham. Her gut was telling her something else now… that something was not right. But Alisha was gone, and Dawn shook the feeling from her body. After all, this was a rare opportunity. She turned and jogged up the distance of hallway up the east corridor, coming to a stop only when she spotted the mass of guards in the doorway of the Rec Room. She slowed her pace, tightening her swaying ponytail once more, and approached the closest guard.

"E-excuse me," she said, turning her head away for a moment to try and see past the mob of security officers. When this yielded nothing, she turned her attention back upon the seasoned guard—the scars showing his experience—adding, "Miss… um, Alisha sent me."

Why had it just now occurred to her that she had never learned Alisha's last name? It was odd, but try as she might, she could not even recall catching it on the laminate that all Arkham orderlies were made to wear. But the guard seemed to know who she spoke of, nodding when he spoke next.

"I don't know why. This is too dangerous for orderlies, but you're here and we'll put you to good use. Right now, we're just trying to get them all sorted out."

Dawn pursed her lips, careful not say the many things that passed through her mind. Some of the guards were so arrogant about their positions on the Arkham staff, as if being an orderly here was easy. But, sometimes, it was best to keep quiet, so Dawn merely stepped away and watched as the guards began to "sort out" the inmates. One by one, a guard, with an inmate in hand, would leave the barricade of armed officers. A few of the patients she recognized from her feeding rounds, and every single one of them gave her a lingering stare as they were led out past her. She tried her best to look like she did not notice this. Seven guard-inmate pairs later, it was only two guards—one of whom was the guard Dawn had spoken with—and herself. The guard who had spoken to her darted forth, taking Poison Ivy into his custody. The plant woman's eyes widened as she glided past Dawn, her mouth making words that were either too low to hear or too high. The guard that remained stood firmly in the doorway of the Rec Room and shook his head.

"You're very popular with them," he said, a chuckle hidden in his voice. Dawn did not find it all that funny.

She could see now what the guard had meant by "sorting them out." Apparently the patients had been arranged into a single-file line, marching up one by one to a designated guard. An inmate that Dawn recognized from her work alone stepped up the last guard, who turned and spared Dawn a worried look. Brow arched, she leaned around to see the familiar, ever-grinning visage of the Joker staring back at her—the only inmate left within the room. Lifting his handcuffed hands, he did the "finger-wiggle" wave at her, winking.

"Honey, I can switch with you. You can take Mr. Evans here back to his cell, and I can take the Joker," the guard offered.

Apparently the anxiety that Dawn was feeling was all-too clear on her face. For half a moment, she almost accepted the offer. But that was when common sense had kicked in. Hadn't she taken this job to get closer to the Joker, to get his blood? Walking him back to his cell was one of those rare opportunities of being alone with the madman. Straightening herself, Dawn swallowed down all her fear.

After all, he was only human. Or, at least, that was what she kept telling herself.

"No, that's fine. I can handle him," she said, stepping forward.

The guard did not look too convinced, but he nodded nonetheless.

"You have a set of keys?" he asked.

Dawn patted her scrubs' right pants pocket. "All orderlies do, just in case."

"And you know the procedure for this?"

"Oh, don't worry, Frankie. If she doesn't, I'll be kind enough to fill her in," Joker said, followed by a minute of chuckling.

"Shut it, clown," Frankie said before turning back to Dawn. "Do you?"

She nodded emphatically. "I do. I've seen Alisha do it a million times."

That seemed to placate Frankie as he nodded and muttered, "Stay close to me." He turned, leading his inmate up the hall as Dawn, in what she might possibly reflect back on one day as the boldest move of her life, strode up to the Joker, grasped his arm, and began to follow after Frankie the guard.

"Well, aren't you the little minx," Joker said, his voice low enough to keep the conversation between himself and Dawn.

Joker's steps were heavy and slow, no matter how hard Dawn tried to tug him along. Frankie and his inmate were already several feet ahead of them.

"Quiet," Dawn muttered, trying her best to regain their lost speed.

"Yes, quite the minx. I mean, you're being so rough with me… and that stunt you pulled the other night… giving me the ol' double-cross. And I fell for it! I'll tell you something, Dawnie, you're a girl after my own heart."

No matter how fast she walked, or how tight her grip on Joker's arm was, Frankie was getting farther and farther away. Dawn took a deep breath that let itself loose in the form of a huff. Something was off. Something was way off.

"Don't call me that," Dawn said, casting a sideways glance at Joker.

He was staring right at her, his smile stretched even farther across his face—if that was possible—than what was normal. She fought a shudder and turned her focus back on the hallway.

"Aw, what's the matter, kiddo? I think Dawnie's a cute name," he said, a mad cackle of laughter escaping his ruby lips.

She chose not to reply this time, her eyes locked on Frankie's back. Any moment he was going to round a corner, and then it would just be her and the clown. Her lips parted, about to cry out for him to wait for her, but decided against it in the last minute. After all, she didn't want to seem childish… and wasn't "alone with the Joker" exactly what she needed?

But her skin was crawling, and her stomach was doing summersaults. The world was off balance, and she couldn't figure out why.

"So, tell me, what brings a pretty young thing like yourself here to dismal Arkham to work? Money trouble? Boy troubles? Mob troubles?" Joker laughed, his steps so slow now that they were almost at a dead stop.

"That's none of your business, now come on," Dawn said, jerking him forward a few steps.

He laughed, shaking his head. "So forceful. I usually don't like that in a chick, but for you… I think I'd make an exception. After all, it's not every day that a guy meets a gal that actually glows."

Dawn's throat suddenly felt like she was trying to swallow gravel. Any second, Frankie would be gone, and here she was with the Clown Prince of Crime, talking about the one subject that she—at the moment—was trying to avoid. And he knew it. His grin was sly, his eyes now locked on her from out of the corner.

"It's not my problem, the things that you see. It's my problem when it concerns getting you back to your cell," Dawn hissed.

Joker wasn't even walking anymore. They were stopped right in the middle of the deserted corridor, no matter how hard Dawn tried to urge the madman forward. And Frankie with his inmate was a distant memory.

Alone, utterly and completely, the Joker leaned himself, causally, against the nearest wall, chuckling at the all-too-plain apprehension on her face. He lifted his wrists, pushing and pulling the chain of the handcuffs, as if testing their resistance. Dawn let go of him, her eyes drifting, for a moment, up at the security camera. There was always somebody watching them. So, she wasn't really alone with him. And he wouldn't dare try anything.

But, then again, how often had he escaped in the past.

"Let's talk, Dawnie-Dawn. You know, I like to talk with people… usually all I get in return is screaming, but c'est la vie."

"You need to be back in your cell, Joker," Dawn said, putting every ounce of strength that she could behind those words.

"Heh, yeah, right. Kiddo, you haven't been completely straight with me."

"I told you, you're seeing things."

Joker waved his cuffed hands dismissively. "No, no, no. That's only part of it, cutie-pie."

"Stop calling me that. Stop calling me pet names. I'm not your 'cutie-pie' or your 'toots' or your anything."

He was getting to her, unnerving her. She knew that, and, worst of all, he knew it. Lazily, he pushed himself off the wall, leaning ever-so-slightly into her. Every fiber of Dawn's body screamed at her to step back, to get away, but pure stubbornness refused to move her feet. Less than a foot apart, the Key and the Clown locked eyes in an unconscious battle of the wills.

"It's not just me that you haven't been straightforward with, and you know that. I know a person with a personal agenda when I see one. And you might as well be wearing a neon sign for it. Problem is: I can't figure out what it is you want. You seem to have your own little fascination with me—which, is mutual, toots—but I just don't know why."

Dawn pursed her lips, thinking hard. Was now the time? Was this her moment? Maybe, if she spilled all to the Joker, it would catch him off-guard. And then, it would just be a matter of getting what she came for. But she maintained her silence, crossing her arms across her chest. She would play this one cool.

"And if I did?" she said, voice low. "Have a personal agenda, that is."

Joker's lips spread into his widest smile. "Oh, you're going to be fun."

Dawn heard the click a second too late. She had only a moment to register the Joker's hand—free of its cuffs—raise up to her arm before an electric pain shot throughout her body. It lasted the length of a single breath, and then her world was black.

…

Dawn's mind awoke before the rest of her did. The earth was hard beneath her, and it felt cold, even through her scrubs. She was moving too, and for one foggy moment, she thought she was in the middle of an earthquake. The next to catch up with her mind was her ears, noticing the familiar noises of passing traffic and a running engine. Finally, her eyes blinked open. Her vision was blurred, and every part of her ached. Her arms were behind her, and she tried her best to pull them forward, only to find her efforts impeded. It was another moment before she figured out that both her arms were bound by a very rough and itchy rope, and that her feet—at her ankles—were in a similar predicament. She tried a deep breath, her lungs feeling hot and empty, only to find that air would not come through her mouth. Noting that it was duct-taped shut, she then changed her breathing tactics to "nose only" and found—to her relief—that nothing was wrong in that department.

Where was she? What truck had hit her? Dawn tried her best to recall her last moments of consciousness as she began to take in her surroundings.

She was in a truck… a very empty delivery truck by the looks of it. Random loose articles bounced and thudded against the truck's empty bay alongside her. Finally, she found the front of the vehicle—only two chairs for driver and one passenger—and immediately recognized the green hair and pale blue uniform of Arkham. Cackling madly, the Joker was the truck's sole other occupant.

She groaned, low, as she let her head fall back against the cool metal flooring. A joy buzzer… had that really been what had knocked her out? How could he had possibly had gotten it? And when? … And was her stove on at her apartment?

She shook her head. Totally not important at the moment. Sighing, she realized that she had gotten what she wanted… she was completely alone with the Joker with no hopes of being interrupted. But maybe trying to get his blood as his hostage was not the best situation. She really needed a plan B.

Extending her neck to catch a glimpse behind her she saw that she was fairly close to the back doors of the truck where a silver latch gleamed in the passing moonlight that shone from the windshield. She cast a cautious glance in the Joker's direction. He seemed rather preoccupied with… something. Slowly, as slowly as she could possibly manage, she began to slide herself towards the latch. Maybe, just maybe, if she could get over to it, maybe she could knock the doors open. Sure, rolling out of a speeding truck was going to hurt like hell… but it had to better than the alternative.

Careful not to hit any of the loose items, Dawn wiggled herself back a little bit. She cast her eyes back upon the Joker. Having still taken no notice of her, she wiggled back a little more. Suddenly, Joker slammed his foot down on the breaks, yanking the steering wheel to the left before straightening it out once more. Dawn squealed through her duct tape as she slammed into the left wall, and then into the two seats at the front. She heard the clown shift the vehicle into park just before he turned to grin back at her.

"You're awake finally," he said, jumping over her, just to crouch down beside her.

Dawn groaned, feeling a bit woozy from the impact she had just suffered. With a chuckle, the clown reached out a gloved hand and yanked the tape from her mouth, causing her to give a tiny yip of pain.

She took a deep breath as she Joker shook his head, shaking the tape from his hand.

"You won't get away with this," Dawn hissed.

Sure, it was clichéd. More importantly, however, it was probably wrong. After all, only one person truly knew where she was at, and by the time Giles figured out she was missing… well, it might be too late. Two Summers girls taking the big checkout across an ocean from one another… lovely.

Joker laughed, moving to sit, cross-legged, beside her, patting her shoulder like they were old friends.

"I don't make it a habit to take hostages. Well, not hostages like you. No, I like my hostages to be big names, people that will be quickly missed."

Injury, consider insult added.

"But," Joker continued, "you're interesting, Dawnie. In fact, you're one of the most interesting people I've met in a long time. Like I said, you glow. And I get the feeling that it has a bigger purpose other than looking pretty. And don't lay there and try to deny it again. That'll only make me angry."

He playfully beeped her nose, gazing expectantly down upon her.

"You're right," she said. "I do glow."

In for a penny, in for pound. After all this mess, a little truth couldn't possibly hurt her.

"Yes, but why? That's what I want to know. And why is it that it was only my fellow Arkhamites and I that could see it?"

He leaned in, like he was watching a suspenseful moment in a favorite television program. Sitting up, he leaned over her, face mere inches away as he pinned her between his arms.

"What are you, Dawn?" he whispered, his hot breath hitting her right in her face.

"I'm a Key, Joker. I'm a mystical Key, and that's all I really know," she said, for some unfathomable reason, whispering back at him.

"A key?"

"Uh-huh."

He wasn't moving, and she was distinctly uncomfortable with his closeness. She wiggled, as if that would remind the clown of his positioning, but he only continued to stare down at her, his frozen smile emblazing itself in her mind.

"I have friends and family. Powerful friends and family that will miss me. And believe you me, you don't want to be the one they come after," Dawn said, a moment of true bravery welling up inside of her.

"Is that so?" he whispered.

She nodded.

Chuckling, he pulled back from her, leaping to his feet.

"You want to know the funny thing about keys, Dawnie?"

He was back in the driver's seat just as Dawn said, "What?"

Adjusting his rearview mirror so that he could see her, he grinned into it.

"They just always seem to get… misplaced."

Her voice caught in her throat, no Buffy-esque reply coming to her as the truck roared back onto the road, filled with the sound of Joker's laughter.

End Notes: A happy belated holidays for those of us who celebrate. And for those of you that don't, I still hope you found happiness and joy in the past few days—and maybe continue to find it. How did we like this one? I'll go ahead and tell you, this originally had a different chapter title—a more humorous one. However, as I was shuffling through my music, the particular song that this title is inspired by came up, and it just so fit the mood that I decided to change it. On that note, would anyone like it if, maybe, I made a playlist of these songs and linked to it on my profile? Just throwing that out there. Also, and this is less happy news, I'm catching up to where my outline ends—not the story, just the outline. So it's going to be a little while before we see chapter 11. I want to make sure I stay several outlined chapters ahead of myself. Who knows, maybe when you see chapter 11 I'll have the entire story outlined. It could happen. I know what happens, generally, in this one, but I have a couple of the finer details to work out. Rest assured, this plot is always at the forefront of my mind, so I won't abandon this. Please review!

Fun Note: The last chapter's title was inspired by "Little Lies" by Fleetwood Mac.

Fun Note 2: So, for Christmas, one of my gifts was the PS3 version of Batman: Arkham Asylum… I put a little shout-out to that game in here. Did anyone catch it?