Thank you again for all the brilliant reviews - it seems that you're all enjoying it so far. Anyway, here's the next chapter; I'd just like to give a little warning that it is slightly disturbing in some ways, and a bit abstract. It's not excessively violent or anything, just a bit...weird, lol. All will be explained int the next chapter.

Enjoy.

-Sal-

'You're going to do what to Harvey?'

'You're worrying agaaain...'

'Of course I'm bloody worrying – you're going to blow-up my brother!'

Our hushed conversation grew more and more frantic as I whispered through the bars of his jail cell. The Joker seemed to be enjoying himself; sat comfortably on a bench opposite me – a smug grin etched into his face.

'I'm sure Batman might save him...'

'MIGHT?!'

I was awarded with a harsh scowl since I let my voice draw the attention of the attending officers. I half-turned to them and cocked my head in apology.

'Sorry...' I mouthed.

'Miss – if he's not co-operating we can take him into an interview room for you?'

'No, no – it's ok. Just give me a minute and I'll be with you...'

A deep breath and I turned my attention back to him – nearly screaming when I found him towering through the bars.

'Sam – listen to me...d'you really think I'd let your brother get blown-up when there's that pretty little thing the Bat's keen on...?'

I narrowed my eyes warily.

'Yes...'

He hesitated.

'Yeah, I can see why'd you think that...but I'm not going to! There's too much fun to be had with him...!'

My frown darkened as I took-in what he was saying.

'What d'you mean?'

The Joker edged closer, his clammy palms wrapping themselves around mine as I gripped the bars.

'The thing about madness, Sam...it's like gravity...all it takes is a little push...'

Somewhere in the background I heard the heavy prison doors clanking open, but still my eyes were concentrated on him.

'What're you gonna do...?'

The Joker leant his bruised forehead against the bars and gazed down on me.

'I'm gonna push him...'

Our conversation was cut-short and my mind drawn away as the police chief appeared from around the corner.

'Why is she in here?! I thought I told you the shrinks were to be kept back until the interview was over?!'

One of the uniforms took my arm, muttering apologies to Gordon and dragging me away from the cage. My eyes, however, stayed on the convicted.

As I remained skulking in the background, listening to the sickly banter of Gotham's finest, I was the only one who didn't applaud the newly appointed Commissioner; I was too occupied with The Joker's eloquent glance in my direction – one that no one else would see.

The cold prickled over my skin as I hunched in the corner of the bare concrete room, waiting for the second coming. All but a fixed metal table and comparable chairs had been stripped from the glorified torture chamber. It was decorated in a charming beige coat and had the grand total of one window – two-way. The only thing that could better it would be the customary flickering light...

Ha ha ha...the migraine was thus complete.

I lolled in my chair as the interview rumbled on. I had been witness to the strip and search – he had enjoyed every moment of that. Not because it was some sort of gratification for him; he didn't have such simple taste. No; he had enjoyed it because they had not – he had had complete and unyielding power, despite being stripped of his dignity and made to stand naked under a freezing shower. They certainly hadn't laughed at him.

'Not even my wife got me to do things like that...' The Joker chuckled with devilish rebuke as they led him into the room. 'No matter how much I begged...'

The psychiatrist that I had been paired with let the comment breeze over her as she arranged papers on the table. The officer who was handcuffing him in place however, made the mistake of speaking.

'Can't really blame the braud...'

My hands were trembling as I itched at the wig, carefully re-adjusting it. I only looked up to see what caused the grunt of panic.

'You want me to show you how I got these scars...?' He held the officer down by the handcuffs, nails sinking into the cops wrists.

'The prisoner will let go before he is re-isolated...'

The older woman eyed him steadily over her glasses, waiting for him to release the attendant. The Joker blinked his gaze towards her.

'Ha ha...' His tongue ran over unpainted lips '...the prisoner will...' He relaxed his grip and smiled.

I watched the guard back out, clearly shaken but refusing to show it. My lips twitched at the corners, daring me to smile.

'This is Dr Ford, I am Dr Beech; you understand why you are here?'

A pencil was held in readiness over a piece of file paper as the psychiatrist shuffled forward on her seat. My smile was stolen by the man now clad in a white polyester jump-suit.

'I can do a trick with a pencil...want me to show you...?'

'Do you understand why you are here?'

The edges of my mouth were cracking from the layers of make-up I had applied. With thick black eye-liner and lightning-blonde wig, I was barely recognisable even to myself.

'I – want my phone call...I want it... I want my phone call...'

The Joker jangled the metal cuffs against his chair as he played with them absently.

'You can have your phone call; right after you've answered a few of our questions.'

He caught my eyes briefly, before straightening himself in the chair.

'Do you understand why you are here?'

'Oh god – yess...!' He rolled his eyes impatiently. 'Because of that Dent guy...'

The shrink watched calmly as he shifted on the seat.

'You wanna know – why I did it, right?'

'We could start there, yes.'

There was a calculated pause, before his eyes narrowed on her.

'Is that where you want to start?'

'If you'd like to, yes.'

'No...that's not what I asked...'

I watched his tongue flick over his lips again.

'Is that where you want to start...?'

My 'colleague' moved a strand of hair, seemingly unnerved.

'Yes...'

She was rewarded with a grin.

'Ok – but let me tell you about something else, first...'

'And what would that be?' She sighed.

With eyes cast down, The Joker loosened his jaw, and smirked.

'You're just dying to find out how I got these scars, am I right?'

My body had started to crawl with panic.

'I bet you just can't figure how a guy like me, had such a normal life once...but I did – I did...'

He hooked an elbow on the table casually, preparing for his tale.

Uncrossing and re-crossing my legs, I tried to make my discomfort clear to him, yet – of course – he continued steadfast.

I'd heard him tell many a story before, but now, the threat that he might speak the truth scared me. It was my hope that he'd forgotten it – left it behind with Jack's psyche: apparently not. Perhaps then it was I who had left one mind, for another.

'My wife – y'know, the pretty little thing spread across all the papers today? Well she was something else when we first got together – my god was she beautiful!'

It took me a while to swallow away the dryness in my throat as I tried to hide in whatever I was meant to be writing.

'I would have done anything for her – anything...buuut she didn't realise that...'

His voice gave way to an eerie little chuckle.

'No-no no no no – she thought that she had to pleeease me by keeping us both; earning the money...I tried to tell her "Sam-" I'd say, "Sam; you're job isn't to keep me – you should be at home, letting me earn the money..."

Here he broke off, apparently trying to remember how our little arguments had been played-out. My fingers were struggling to hold the pen over the lines of blank paper on my lap. Nausea seethed within me, making me fidget; desperate to get out from this suffocating room.

'Sufficed to say she didn't listen...aaand in the end – resorted to deals with the mob...'

He sucked at his lip, eyes rising again to the silent shrink.

'This is where it gets interesting – sooo, you might wanna listen up...'

Quietly he leant into her.

'One night she comes home...covered in blood. Not just from her face though, where she had been slashed...that was bad enough...'

His eyes rolled onto mine.

'...but from places I just couldn't make out...not at first...'

Tears were hitting my clipboard as I gazed unguarded at my husband, sitting in the metal chair opposite.

'...when she told me she had been pregnant... it was pretty much the last straw...'

Bullets of my mind were striking through age-old memories and hitting me full-force in the chest. Memories that I had thought were dreams; nightmares. Never had I believed that they were true. I had pushed these thoughts of the past away and ignored any hint that they might be real. Until today, I was confident that they weren't.

'...as I left my wife lying in the arms of a nurse I had never met before, her face carved like this...and screaming in agony from our unborn child...I could only think of one way to make things better again – one way that we would always be happy...'

Somewhere in the distance I was aware that several pairs of eyes would be concentrated on me, as I sat and cried unyielding tears in front of a high-security prisoner: nevertheless, I just couldn't stop them.

'I stuck a razor in my mouth and did this...to myself...and so now – I'm always smiling – now, I always see the funny side!'

He threw his head back and howled with insanity.

'Great story, right?'

The Joker eased back in his seat and returned the psychiatrist's avid gaze.

'We should do this again sometime...'

It seemed to take a while for her to blink and refocus. When she did, and she spoke, her voice was somewhat less clear.

'Would you care to share more?'

I could make out the clatter of doors being unlocked from outside this room. The Joker sucked at his teeth and craned his head to look at the Doctor's watch.

'Not right now...'

Dragging a white sleeve across my face I not only removed the tears from my blotched cheeks, but the make-up and foundation, too.

'I don't have time right now...'

'What d'you mean, you don't have time?'

I removed the mobile from my pocket just as the door to the previous metal gates was being unlocked.

'I need to make that phone call...'