And so a new chapter is born. I'm not so sure of this chapter though. I've actually been really nervous about this story for the last couple of chapters. I got a lot of complaints in my writing class about how this story started to drag around this chapter. But what I'm trying to do is build up this atmosphere towards chapter 11. Chapter 11 will be a BIG chapter. At least stick around for that and chapter 12.

Anyway, midterms are over here in college world, however, I've recently discovered that my teachers are making us take all these tests and 2nd midterms the week after Spring Break. Which happens to be my birthday week - so if you can imagine, that pisses me off just a little bit. I really don't want to write 4 essays and answer about 100 multiple choice questions on my birthday. (Or the days before or after) Noooooooooo!

So please tell me what you think of this chapter. Ellie is starting to slip a bit, and if she doesn't get out of there soon, she's going to crack completely. Lets see what happens, shall we?

This chapter is dedicated to the Kiyomi half of Banana Rum, here on FanFictionNet. She's incredible - it was her birthday a couple of weeks ago, so one last late (and belated) birthday wish! I hope you enjoyed your special chapter!

CHAPTER NINE [do you know him]

My numbness faded as the van cruised past familiar sights – the old bearded man who sat on his stoop everyday, even after all this time. The graffiti for the "Pope of Dope" that had survived on the wall since the sixties. The entrance to my old apartment building in town that still had some unfortunate lady's begonias growing on the doorstep, despite the "FORECLOSED" sign on the door. The one that I'd shared with Jack.

Even after we'd gone several blocks past my old neighborhood, and deeper into the Narrows, I kept my head turned in its direction. I couldn't help but be stuck in my thoughts about Jack; up until that moment, I'd still thought of Jack living in that same apartment. With the same neighbors. The same furniture. Watching the same programs on TV. Was it my imagination, or had a shadow flitted across the window of our old apartment?

It was like I was finally seeing my memories as a stagnant pond – the same old images and reactions and thoughts. Now, suddenly a pebble was spreading proverbial ripples over my pond, changing everything. All my images of our life together had a suddenly dated look. Now, the possibilities as to where Jack was and what he was doing were endless.

He could be in Paris working as a waiter. In Russia in the army. Or closer to home in San Francisco as a common business man. New York, New York as a small time actor on Broadway. Maybe all that time I'd spent avoiding home - I could have gone back.

Or maybe, he was still in Gotham. Still a construction worker. Just with a different apartment.

Or maybe the Joker had already killed him. I shot a glance at the man himself, but turned away when he returned it. If Jack was still in Gotham, maybe he'd had something to do with my current predicament. Perhaps he was more than a mere employer in all this, maybe even part of Joker's gang. Maybe this was a favor he'd asked of the Big Cheese himself.

My mind was playing fast and loose with reason now, and I wasn't thinking clearly. I knew, inside, that Jack was still presumably alive. But I'd told the Joker that he was dead. Did the clown know something, or someone, that I didn't?

I slid around in Joker's arms so that I could face him with an unusual boldness. Though this was an uncommonly courageous action for me, he didn't' seem surprised. "I want to know." I told him, and then waited for him to reply.

When he didn't, I continued. "I want to know if you knew my husband. Know him." I corrected quickly. "Do you know him?"

Joker backed away marginally, his face again a bright mask over what he was feeling – the eyes too. They were blank as before, once more as expressionless as the eyes of a statue, even as his scars smiled. "What's, uh, what's the mister's name?"

I swallowed. "Napier. Jack Napier."

He was laughing at me again, he was mocking me AGAIN. His whole body was shaking with mirth. His head was thrown back, his hands clutching at the lapels of his shirt, he was laughing so hysterically that he could hardly speak. "Who- who- who," to stop sounding like an owl, he had to tone down his laughter to mere chuckles. "Who are you? James Bond?"

Having finished speaking, his chuckles were once again replaced by great whooping laughs. As before, I felt a great, engulfing anger – a true outrage similar AND compatible to the anger I felt when he suggested that Jack committed suicide to get away from me. Now he was baiting me using my husband – again – quite a sore spot for me.

It was made all the more painful with the thought that maybe, just maybe, Jack was the source of it all. That Jack may have set the dogs on me. That Jack was responsible for all my pain and anxiety in the Joker's care. That my husband had asked the Joker to torture and kidnap me.

Jack. Jock. Joke. Joker.

His name echoed and mutated in my head as I found the strength to push the Joker farther away from me, not using my still injured left arm. I didn't need any more of that pain. Joker stumbled back – for once startled – and he hit the opposite wall of the van.

"I'm asking you if you know my husband." I was now standing up shakily in the van and my voice was so forceful and loud that Justin and Kyle rushed in, leaving Carl to drive.

Joker's laughter faded abruptly as the tension clouded the small, rocking space; thickening and forming a hard crust around the four of us in attendance. Joker seemed as if he knew something, like he had a trump card – an ace in the hole, that would crush me easily. Because of this he loomed over me – a giant shadow, an incredible monster.

I tried to back away from his looming force, and ended up sitting down heavily on the metal bench attached to the side of the van. The cold glass of the windows pressed against my head and the back of my neck, bracing me even as I scrambled to pull my legs closer to my body. Joker wasn't moving – forwards, backwards, sideways, horizontally, emotionally, metaphysically – nothing. But at that moment the dangerous air about him was more tangible to me then ever, and I felt like a rabbit backed to the edge of a cliff by snarling dogs. My back legs were scrambling for purchase at the ledge. One push, one attack and I was gone.

Joker's voice was very, very low -more calm than I'd ever heard him before. Again, even as he was feet away, his voice made me feel like he was everywhere, pressing close to me. "I would know him, Gretchen, if you hadn't already told me he was dead."

My mistake hit me like a ton of bricks. The impact of what I'd done, what I'd revealed...I'd been so caught up in my thoughts, my situations and memories, that I had forgotten to stay in the real world. So careless! I had forgotten to maintain Gretchen and instead I'd let the real Ellie slip through. Now, because of my foolishness and rash actions, he knew at the very least, that I was a liar. That nothing I said could be trusted.

My throat closed up with a more pressing fear, now that I was wondering what he'd do to me for lying to him. "Uh...I....gah...uhhm..." I could hardly speak I was so scared.

Pressing his advantage, Joker rubbed his hands on his thighs to warm them and came to sit next to me. His close proximity made me shake all the more and I felt distress rise like bile in my throat. Again I was the rabbit, too scared to try to run, only now the abyss was calling me and the growling dogs were closer. My utter fear must have shown on my face because the painted man next to me stroked my cheek gently, reassuringly, with one finger.

"Ah, you're nervous." The rest of his hand came around to cup my chin and the longer he spoke, the tighter his grip became. "Don't be nervous Gretch – if that is your real name. Just tell me the truth."

"The truth?" I asked through smashed lips.

Joker smirked, and the expression looked strange with the elongated lines of his smile. "Tell me everything."

"Everything?"

His eyes were swallowed in black, pasty make-up as he leaned forward to place his forehead against mine. "Everything." He removed his hand from my face to make my confession easier.

I knew that it would be even more fatal to reveal more than was absolutely necessary – like my fear of getting too close to fire. It wasn't necessary, but it was part of 'everything'. Yet I didn't want him to be able to use it against me. I swallowed as I realized that I'd have to make him ask me specific questions.

I tilted my head farther down against his so I could look up through my eyelashes at him and I knew that there had to be more white paint smeared on my face. But everything had a price. "What do you want to know?"

Joker pushed my head back with his forehead till my head was pressed against the side of the van, and someone – probably Justin – shifted uncomfortably. "Are you playing with me?" Joker demanded, irritation sparking in the corners of his mouth.

"No." I wasn't going to get away with this.

He put space between us and shook his head like a parent with a wayward child. "Nope, you're still lying." He looked up. "But I'll play along anyway."

His hand shot out to cup the back of my neck and yanked me forward so that our cheeks were pressed together. I was disgusted by it but I got the purpose of it. My mouth was to his ear and his was to mine. "You're name?" He asked me calmly.

"Ellie." I replied.

"Ellie…Napier, right?" He seemed a little more intent to hear what I said this time.

I swallowed again. "Yes." Was I crazy or did a tiny tremor – the tiniest of its kind – shiver through him when I said that? Or had I just imagined it?

His voice didn't sound any different when he posed his next question. "Where do you live Ellie Napier?"

"Buffalo Bluff, Montana."

"Have you ever moved before?"

"Yes."

"And where did you move to?"

"Buffalo Bluff."

"Where did you live before that?"

"Gotham City."

"How long did you live there?"

"Most of my life."

"Why did you leave?"

For the first time I hesitated for a fraction of a second and the pattern was slightly disrupted. "There was some family trouble."

His hand began to massage tiny circles into the back of my neck. "Are you really married?"

"Yes." And the pattern was restored again.

"Where is the lucky duck?"

"I don't know."

"Is he alive?"

"Could be."

"But you don't think so."

"No."

"Why?"

We were getting back to the topic that was a little too painful for me to handle. The utilitarian manner that he'd questioned me with before had helped me to try to reply with equally little emotion, but now even that couldn't do the job. "Because..."

Thank God I never got to finish my sentence. The van jerked to a turbulent stop and everyone within was severely jostled. It didn't even take Carl a second to pop into the back with the rest of us, a perfect imitation of his mortally stricken brother Eddie, once and formerly known as Captain Obvious. Who was probably still lying dead I my room. "We're here boss." He announced.

Joker groaned.

END OF CHAPTER

As always, I'd like to thank my reviewer(s) - RubyWaters, who was the ONLY one to review the last chapter. Either way, thank you so much! I love your Joker story, so its an honor to have you read mine.

In other news, where is everyone else? Hello? Hellooooooo?

Either way, how about a general update? College is going well, I'm about to declare myself a History major, but I'm still not sure if I want to minor in French. I've got to see how this semester in French 4 goes. I've gotten to 60,000 (SIXTY THOUSAND) words with my historical romance novel, which is set in WW2. There is an excerpt from it somewhere on my LiveJournal that you can read. Or message/email me! I love to share. In addition to this, I've rebooted a short story set in 38 AD, under Caesar Caligula's reign. He meets a woman that puzzles and so he becomes obsessed with finding and speaking to her. You can message me for this as well, or request that it goes up on LiveJournal too.

So .... read? (all three?) Review?