Hey guys! So I kind of had a family emergency and wasn't able to post this as soon as I would have liked :/ . SO I'm trying to make up for it by writing a lot! Once again, reviews made my day. If I could hug you all I most definitely would! So basically I'm missing the Joker even after one chapter… he makes things so fun! Back to Lacey for now, but I promise our favorite criminally insane clown is coming back soon…

I waited in the interrogation room for another thirty minutes before I heard raised voices coming from outside the door. I couldn't make out all of the words, but I clearly heard, "Since when had it been procedure to put a kidnapping victim in an interrogation room?" I allowed myself a small smile- apparently someone wasn't too happy with Detective Foreman.

The door opened seconds later and in walked none other than James Gordon. I had grown up hearing his name often in the papers- years ago as an outstanding cop, and lately one of the best detectives of the force. He had an eternally tired look on his face, like he knew that there was never going to be enough good in Gotham but he was going to try to fix it anyway.

"Hi, I'm Lieutenant Gordon. You're Lacey Grey, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," was my intelligent response. Wow. I really needed some sleep.

"Come with me. I don't know what Foreman was thinking, keeping you in here. Let's go to my office. Would you like some water? From what I hear we're going to be talking for a while. I'm sorry that you had to spend all of that time in the interrogation room. Foreman… sometimes he's…."

"Ok?" I guessed. He let out a chuckle.

"Yes, he says that a lot doesn't he?"

I immediately liked Gordon. Anyone who wasn't a fan of that rent-a-cop Foreman was a good person in my book. I followed Gordon through a busy room full of people frantically running from desk to desk, comparing notes and making phone calls. I guessed that the Joker's murder of the doorman and his appearance at Wayne's party had MCU working overtime. We finally arrived in his office, and I was finally able to sit in a comfortable chair and have a drink of water for the first time in hours.

"So, first off, I just want to tell you that Foreman filled me in and gave me your statement. However, knowing him, it might not be the full story. How about you start from the beginning and tell me what you know."

So I did. I told him everything that had happened to me since I had walked down the alley all those days ago and added more details than before, but left out the same parts I had when I told my story earlier to Detective Foreman. I realized that I would never tell anyone I had killed a man or who my parents were. That would involve too many questions that needed answers I didn't have.

A few more hours later, and I was done in MCU. I had finished telling my story to Gordon, and a lady had led me to what looked like a school nurse's office to clean me up and inspect my wounds. My "J" wound had begun to heal, but she insisted on pulling out the Joker's stitches and doing them over again. Then she asked the question I knew would be coming soon.

"Now sweetie, remember you are safe here. Did the Joker do anything to you that made you feel uncomfortable? Did he invade your space in any way? You can tell me if he did anything to you." She said in a sweet voice. It was a little too sweet. I shook my head no. In truth, the Joker hadn't done anything like that- except for the kiss. And it had hardly made me feel uncomfortable- quite the opposite, actually.

Another lady had drawn out a pretty accurate rendition of both Norgard and Stanton with my description. I couldn't remember any other faces besides those two, and they already had a pretty accurate description of the Joker: crazy guy with a scarred smile and makeup. Not many criminals could manage to fit that description.

I sat in the waiting room for the MCU with a cup of coffee and a magazine I wasn't really reading in my lap. Gordon had called for a police car to escort me home and take the night shift for watching my apartment. I had told Gordon that the Joker knew where I lived, and while we both thought he would lay low for a while, Gordon still insisted on having a police car parked outside during the night.

By now it was morning. I could see the sun rising through the windows, partially blocked by the massive Wayne Tower. I realized I hadn't seen Bruce Wayne at Dent's fundraiser- not before or after the Joker's entrance. I hadn't even seen the man himself- Harvey Dent. So where was he?

My questions were suddenly answered when a police man walked in escorting Dent. I tried not to stare but I couldn't help it. My father, my real father, was right in front of me. I studied his features, trying to connect them to my own. I had obviously missed the blonde hair gene, but we had the same eyes. He caught me staring at him, so I blushed and tried to look interested in the magazine. I could feel his eyes burning into me, and I realized that he recognized me. Somehow, he realized he had seen me before. And I had an idea where he recognized me from.

When Dent arrived, all of the people stopped working and began swarming him, asking questions and requesting fingerprints and whatnot. This gave me the perfect opportunity to head to a nearby desk that was abandoned and test my theory. I quickly typed in "Diana Maroni" in a search bar and hit the enter key. A criminal record popped up first, just some misdemeanors from twenty years ago and a quick note that she was married to a drug lord. Then the picture popped up. It was the one in the arrest records from her misdemeanor all those years ago, and she looked to be around my age, give or take a few years. It was her face that shocked me. It looked exactly like mine- same nose, same skin that was a little on the tan side, and same long, chocolate brown curls. The only feature we didn't share was my eye color. I knew then that Dent knew I was his daughter- there was only one way I could look that much like the woman he had fathered a baby with so long ago.

I returned to my seat and tried to look at Dent through the crowd. He was talking to Gordon and another man, but he was looking for me across the office. I saw him point my way and ask something to Gordon, and even though I was far away I could distinctly hear "Oh, her? That's Lacey Grey."

A few policemen entered the building and distracted me.

"Lacey Grey? I'm Officer Barnes, and this is Officer Stevens. We're here to escort you home today," said a short, chubby man with a handlebar mustache. I half expected him to have a southern accent. Officer Stevens was tall, handsome, and thankfully mustache-less, but he seemed a little young to be an officer and kept on looking around nervously, like he expected the waiting room to blow up any minute. I figured that being a police officer in Gotham, it wasn't all that stupid to expect something like that.

I tried to get one last look at Dent as they escorted me through the room, but his face was lost in the busy office. They led me outside, where the sun was a little bit higher in the sky now, but not high enough to warm the air just yet. I shivered in my MCU- issued jacket, but I still was only wearing a thin evening gown under it. The younger cop, Stevens, opened the door to a police car for me, and I tried to smile at him through my chattering teeth. We all climbed into the car and we were off, heading towards the bad part of Gotham city.

Officer Barnes, who obviously had seniority over Stevens, tried to make polite conversation with me, but I could tell he was the type of man who didn't like conversing with people younger than forty. I tried to answer his typical questions (Where do you go to school? What's your favorite class?) but after a while he ran out of things to say, so he resorted to uncomfortable silence. A few minutes later Stevens reached out apprehensively to turn on the radio to an alternative rock station. Barnes snorted in disbelief and switched to a country station. As the two men sat bickering and switching the station in the front seats, I let my mind wonder.

I thought about Vinny, who I hadn't seen in who knows how many days. Was he worried about me? Did he miss me? I had tried calling him from MCU earlier, but it had gone straight to voicemail. I didn't really expect him to be up that late, but it still would have been nice to hear his voice. I was a little scared that he might hit me for being so stupid and getting myself kidnapped, but then again I figured that maybe this time he would be so relieved to see me that he wouldn't get so angry.

We arrived a few minutes later at the apartment. The street was silent at this time of morning, but even in the light it looked dark and scary.

"Officer Stevens will be back tonight to watch the house. If there's anything you're worried about, just call us and we'll be right over. Now Stevens will walk you in," said Officer Barnes. I thanked him for everything and waited until Stevens got out of the car to hurry up to the main door. Stevens was a gentleman and held it open for me.

"You've been through a lot tonight, haven't you?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah…" I trailed off, not really knowing how to respond.

"Well, you're safe now, and that's all anyone in Gotham can ask for. Now go home and watch some old reruns of Scooby-Doo. It's good for the nerves," he laughed.

I allowed myself a small smile as I imagined the entire Gotham police force watching Scooby-Doo in their Snuggies at home.

"It takes a real man to admit that he watches Scooby-Doo as an adult," I said as we climbed the stairs.

Stevens smiled and began to answer back, stopped dead in his tracks and pulled out his gun as we reached my floor. I peered over his shoulder and realized that the door to the apartment was open ever so slightly. A few small pieces of splintered wood were on the floor, and I realized that someone had broken into the apartment.

"Stay here," said Stevens. He walked forward with his gun held out in front of him, then pushed open the door all the way. I didn't listen to him and followed behind him. I looked under his outstretched arm, and what I saw made me gasp out loud. On the opposite wall, written in distinctive handwriting that I recognized, were four words written in blood.

YOU ARE MINE NOW

I remembered the Joker saying something like this long ago when I had first mention that Vinny sometimes hit me. Then I looked down. Vinny lay dead on the floor, his face disfigured with a carved smile. He was covered in blood, and my stomach turned when I realized his hands were missing. That was when my eyes finally rolled back and I fell into the waiting arms of Officer Stevens. I could vaguely hear him call for backup on his radio as I fainted, but one voice seemed louder to me.

The Joker's voice was in my head, telling me over and over again: "You. Are. Mine. Now."