(A/N: So this chapter was actually completed almost a month ago, but rather than post it then, I took some time to edit old chapters and bring them up to snuff with my current standards. Hopefully I won't need to do this again for a while. The main changes I made were transferring 3rd person sections to 1st person and fixing blatant errors.)

Chapter 17: Alibi

*February 17*

I opened the door of the apartment to see my boyfriend and capable therapist. "You're usually never late." I kissed Jonathan's lips, walking out of the apartment with my purse in hand. "Therapy was supposed to start a half an hour ago." I reminded him as I locked the door. Tonight would be another driving session on the city outskirts. It was quite an ordeal, learning how to drive while fearing every jarring movement. But things were improving at an astounding rate, or so Dr. Crane said.

"Yes, well, something came up at the house." Jonathan said vaguely before elaborating. "The kitchen faucet refused to stop running water and by the time I utilized the shut off valve, the whole floor was flooded. It took a while to clean up." He explained while walking with me to the elevator.

"Did you schedule repairs?" I asked. "Or is it something you can handle?"

"No, I'm not much of a handyman." He admitted. "Sunday evening is the earliest they have and I took them up on the offer. I have to be at home between the hours of twelve and five."

"So I can still expect you for a movie that night?" I slipped the invitation into our conversation.

He nodded his head. "I should be able to squeeze a movie in after our Sunday session. As long as your choice in movie is acceptable." Jonathan said with a smile.

"Yes, I was recommended a horror film by a coworker who shall remain nameless along with the title of the feature." I wanted to keep the selection a secret from my boyfriend.

"Now my mind will be thoroughly occupied all weekend." He joked.

XXXXX

*February 19*

At around one o'clock, I left the house. I had stayed the first hour to be sure Mireille didn't stop by to keep me company during the appointment window. After all, it would be hard to explain my absence once I had fabricating the convincing lie about my sink being in need of repair. If she showed up between now and five, I had the excuse that the repairman came early and had finished the job, so I had gone grocery shopping.

Now that the alibi was taken care of, it was time to get to work.

It was expected when I filed for the Joker to be placed in solitary confinement mere days after he'd been returned to a standard cell. If anything, the orderlies in charge of transferring the clown were puzzled at how it had taken the lunatic so long to get penalized with a visit to one of those cold, desolate chambers.

Two weeks in solitary was all I was given with the psychopath, but I had to be patient. I obviously could not confront the man the instant he was moved, even the maniac would suspect something if he were assaulted so soon after injuring an employee. No, this couldn't look like the sweet vengeance it actually was. It needed to appear like run of the mill torturing brought on by the so called 'nightmare incarnate' that roamed solitary.

Needless to say, no two nightmarish experiences were alike in those halls, and this was not solely because the inmates each had their own fears. Rather than give the whole cell block similar features to describe to their respective psychologists after their stay, I switched between over twenty vastly different mask. Most were made of burlap and similar fabrics, others were carved from wood, and I even had a few store bought ones to round out the bunch. There was nothing to tie back to a common tormentor, everyone just suffered from their own delusions. The Joker would be no different.

Finally, on the clown's last day in isolation, I would confront him during the mid-afternoon lull. This was when most guards were eating lunches of their own and patients waited inside their cells for an hour until meeting in the recreational room with their fellow inmates.

I'd slowly been working my way over to the Clown Prince of Crime during the past week, letting him hear the faint cries of his neighboring cell mates through the open food slot in his door as I edged nearer to his own chamber day after day. Most of the time, I would clock out with my card before doubling back to make my way to solitary or take advantages of these weekend lulls to perform my experiments. Mireille had gone home by herself or spent those nights alone without asking questions. Since my girlfriend started taking care of Jolie, I'd received a lot of leeway with skipping out on time together after work. So, while Mireille pampered and trained the new puppy, I dealt with more complex animals.

Using gardening gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints, I tugged the ghoulish mask over my head and set down my briefcase. After a short costume change, there was no remaining feature tying my appearance in solitary back to the law abiding Dr. Jonathan Crane. With that knowledge in mind, I made my way over to the Joker's cell, scraping a three pronged hand rake along the metal doors as I went. The resulting high pitched sound may have caused other's bodies to cringe, but I'd grown numb to the noise.

Although the soundproof cells took care of voices from traveling, it did little for the vibrations transferred through the metal. Therefore after I'd scraped over the solid doors, the cell's inhabitants replied by pounding on them like wild gorillas. That is, until I reached his cell. From the clown, there was no response.

Undoing the many locks on his high security cell door, I dug the metal prongs of my tool into the small gap and pried his door open slowly, to make a more dramatic entrance. Once it was ajar enough to cast a sliver of light on the previously pitch black cell, I saw the Joker lying on the cot, his heavily dilated eyes darting over what he could see of me as they contracted into pinpricks.

"I've heard of you." He remarked in his manic voice. "Well, your work anyway." The madman laughed, his feet kicking in an outward expression his amusement. "Hard to ignore all that screaming at nighttime or the gossip in the regular cells." The Joker leaned forward with little aid from his bound hands. "'An inmate who got loose or an employee trying to join us'. That's the current debate. Though there are others who swear otherwise, 'a demon', they say." The Joker let out a chuckle. "But they're wrong, aren't they?"

"You'll just have to see for yourself." I approached him, a high dose of my toxin resting inside the syringe I had hidden behind my back.

"Are we going to have fun then?" Joker sat up, anticipating a beating or some sort of physical torture.

"I am, you aren't." With that I lunged forward and injected the toxin into his forearm before backing off. I paused for a moment, watching him touch the injection site with his pale fingertips. "What do you see?" I asked once his gaze returned to me.

"A garden decoration who's missing from his post. What's wrong? Forget where the corn field is?" He laughed, at his joke and my own supposed incompetence. It didn't make sense though, the toxin should have worked. I'd even tested the same batch on a rodent before coming here. "Heh, you sure leave a guy hanging, what'd I get a placebo or something? How's about you go to the wizard, get some brains, and then come back with an actual drug." The Joker lounged on the cot, as if there was no imminent threat. "I guess we all can't be skilled chemists capable of concocting an effective drug. Go home and study valence electrons and chemical bonds, idiot."

It was one thing to mock my appearance, but an attack on my intellect would not be overlooked. Besides, I still needed revenge.

XXXXX

*Later that night*

After our regularly scheduled therapy session, Jonathan drove me back home and pulled a box of popcorn packets out of his trunk. "After the repairs were made, I did some shopping. I figured you might have run out of popcorn by now, we've seen movies here often enough."

I accepted the gift, but Jonathan was chivalrous enough to insist upon carrying it up to the apartment for me.

Once we were settled on the couch with a bowl of freshly made popcorn, myself seated between Jonathan and Jolie, I pressed play on tonight's movie. When the title flashed on screen, I heard a brief chuckle from Jonathan, but assumed it was for the name of the feature, not its contents.

Things started off well enough: a creepy figure looming in the mist, a few grisly murders discovered the next day. But then things got weird. Not in the sense that suddenly everything was bright, shiny, and all was right with the world. But due to the couple now on screen doing more than just kiss in the moonlit forest.

My eyes switched between looking at the film and Jonathan, who was sitting there with a smug smile as he watched my reactions. This was what normally happened just before a gorey or shock inducing scene, my boyfriend would look at me for genuine reactions. But now, now the two were panting and moaning as they undressed each other. I was waiting for the gun to fire, a chainsaw to cut one of their legs off, but it didn't arrive, and well positioned cameras started alluding to something more happening between the couple.

In a frenzy, the hands I had previously laced over my eyes darted for the eject button on the remote. The screen turned blue while my face burned red and the disc tray opened up.

"You lasted longer than I thought." Jonathan clapped momentarily. "That movie has quite a few similar scenes that ultimately end poorly for the pair involved. A lot of slashers actually do. It helps make up for their lack of story." He stood up to retrieve the disc, placing it back in it's case under the assumption the film had been shelved for the night. My boyfriend turned around and I looked toward Jolie instead, taking comfort in petting the puppy's soft fur. "Is this embarrassment because of me, or the movie? For example, would you have watched the scene if I weren't here?" Dr. Crane attempted to analyze me for the second time this evening.

"Probably not." I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't watch that kind of stuff. There's always, erm, books, but I don't delve into the video version. It's so dirty and lacks an air of romance." I didn't look toward him, self-conscious about what I'd admitted to.

He sat down beside me. "That's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'd be more concerned for the both of us if you were completely ignorant on the subject." Jonathan wrapped an arm around my shoulder and kissed my forehead when I still refused to look his way. "Can I get a few titles?" My boyfriend asked, amused by the prospect of me reading trashy romance novels in my spare time.

"They're in French. That way, if anyone asks, I can say I'm reading a science fiction or fantasy novel." I told him the trick to my discretion. "And no, I will not give you any recommendations."

XXXXX

*February 20*

Joker was released from isolation this morning, however he didn't return in a better condition than that he left in. The man was decorated with injuries as minimal as a split lip and as severe as a gashed torso. I saw him wheeled into the medical facility and immediately tagged onto the team of medical doctors already working on him. We set up a blood transfusion to make up for the loss and started cleaning wounds he couldn't tend to properly in his bound state.

His own form of medial attention was crude, but effective. Using the plastic covered pillow in the cell to his advantage, the Joker lay on his stomach with the cushion pressed against the bloody wound to both apply pressure and halt the bleeding. In a similar manner, he pressed the palm of his hand to the underside of the pillow and used his good one to hold the back of it to prevent his gaping wounds from gushing too badly. However, there was still a lot of blood on his sheets and pillow.

The once white gown was torn and drenched with the vital fluid. By the time he made it to our operating table, the Joker was unconscious from blood loss and had a fever. After removing the gown, the other doctors and I gasped at three parallel gouges running from his chest to his abdomen. Thankfully nothing was punctured, however his costal cartilage was scraped from the ordeal. It looked like a giant set of talons mauled him, but we all knew that was very unlikely. Checking the wound for fragments, we then set out on sanitizing the area and stitching it shut. "He's not safe in solitary or his cell, what are we going to do?" I asked Drs. Chen and Jessop.

"Putting him back in isolated care is hardly an option, the Joker needs to interact with others, especially after being apart from his fellow inmates for so long." Dr. Jessop spoke as she pulled a loop of thread taut. "Besides, I don't feel like spending any more of my weekends here, even it is considered overtime."

"I know." I sighed, " But to be singled out and assaulted like this, it's hard to overlook."

"We'll review the records of those who have clearance to access solitary. If anyone has been there within the past few weeks we will know." Dr. Chen assured me as he analyzed the Joker's contusions.

"It's a good step forward." I mumbled. "Hopefully they'll catch the maniac."

XXXXX

It was over. Thankfully there didn't appear to be any infections, but the two circular stab wounds on his hand were cause for concern. The punctures went through to the other side, but delved between his metacarpals rather than destructively traverse through them. I spent a long time reconnecting muscles and nerves in his hand while my peers focused on stitching the gashes. By the time I was done, they'd both gone to work on other patients.

I was alone in the room with him. It was weird, seeing the Joker defenseless, drained, the previously porcelain skin now deathly white. "You're smart, half a day's worth of bleeding and you managed to think of a way to survive." I spoke to my presumably unconscious patient. "You could be dead."

"And miss seeing your lovely face again?" Joker grumbled. "Like hell." He opened his eyes to look at me, delivering a smirk. "Haven't seen you in more than a month. Did I bore you? Never had that issue with a gal."

"Too much excitement actually. But you're in good hands." I told him, wrapping up the wounded hand as I spoke. "And your's should be fine in a few weeks. Try not to strain it." I stood up, ready to leave.

"And what about the French lessons teach? I can't homeschool myself." He referred to our weekend activity before I stopped seeing him.

"There are plenty of books in the library, you only need to ask and someone will retrieve a French language one for you." I checked the restraints one last time and eyed the blood bag before deciding I should delegate monitoring the Joker to another doctor.

"Mademoiselle, s'il vous plaît donnez-moi le livre." Joker uttered the simple phrase with little difficulty, his accent not bad for a beginner.

I smiled at my former student, simply responding. "D'accord, Monsieur J."

XXXXX

*February 27*

I was on my lunch break in the botanical gardens. The place was usually quiet this time of day with a majority of the inmates also dining on their scheduled meal. However, this was also when more renowned patients visited the gardens. Warden Sharp arranged things this way to ensure those 'untreatable' didn't mingle with patients who had a shot at recovery.

I was sitting down on a wood bench, listening to the crackly, looped, nature ambiance being pumped through rock shaped speakers as I enjoyed my sandwich and a good book. Then, I heard the shuffling of shackles accompanied by the stomping of two guards approach me. Looking up, I saw one of my patients.

"Edward, good afternoon." I greeted him, gesturing to the place beside me. "There's an open seat if you would care to join me."

"That sounds lovely." He remarked. The guards looked at each other before nodding their heads and roughly pushing him toward the bench. I held out a hand in case he fell, but the Riddler managed to maintain his stability. Using the five inches of give between his chained ankles, Edward took a dozen more steps forward and sat in the proffered seat. "What brings you here?" He asked, it had been the first time we'd met under these circumstances.

"Lunch, I typically have it in the aviary, but my usual bench was broken in a skirmish last week so I'm attempting to locate a replacement. This one seems fine but it is terribly close to those speakers." I tilted my head toward the hole riddled rock beside us. "How are you," I asked. "It must be nice to have the cast off, but at the same time a bit weird. I hope the orderlies aren't being too rough with the skin on your arm, it can be very sensitive after remaining trapped under a cast for so long."

"My arm is fine." He replied, "Just a little weak, but the physical therapy you scheduled should fix that up."

I nodded in agreement. "Well, if you feel something is off, be sure to let me know."

"Riddle me this-" The security guards raised their nightsticks in preparation for a psychotic fit. "- what is a device that nearly everyone has, that can freeze anyone it sees?" The pair lowered the weapons and rolled their eyes, diverting their attentions to converse with one another.

It took a moment before I scrounged up the answer. "A camera."

Edward nodded his head, gesturing toward the upper left corner of the room. "Indeed." I looked up where he directed and saw a rotating security camera. The new piece of tech was still shining, not yet covered by even a thin layer of dust.

"When did-" I was cut off.

"What do people make that nobody can ever see?" He said this riddle quickly, as if time was of the essence.

I was about to say 'noise' when I got the hint, the cameras had audio recording capabilities. Mouthing the word instead, to let Edward know I understood, I sat up straighter in the bench, suddenly much more aware of my presence in the room. "Well, I'll see you at our next appointment."

"See you then." Edward stood up, tilted his head in a small bow, and shuffled away with the guards in tow.

XXXXX

I don't suspect Jonathan was given the same warning as myself, as his typical advances toward me were by no means dampened by the weekend installation of those hundreds of cameras. However, I also decided to give him the benefit of the doubt by assuming he hadn't noticed them due to another restless night of sleep, something I thought he had worked past. Back to back appointments were to blame for my own ignorance on the matter.

I felt guilty for not being able to contact Jonathan throughout the day to inform him why I was behaving so coldly. However, since there was a camera in my office, a phone tap was not unbelievable.

A few hours after lunch, we crossed paths for the first time in the hall. In his usual manner, Jonathan tugged lightly on the wrist of my lab coat as he passed by, nodding toward a vacant room we could canoodle in. But, when I shook my head slightly, he made a very blatant U-Turn in the otherwise empty hall.

"Mireille." He addressed me.

"Dr. Crane, how are you doing." I snapped around, as if prepared for idle chitchat. "Have you heard about the skirmish that occurred in the extreme patients corridor this weekend? Zsasz attempted to kill another inmate with a ceramic tile shard and wound up cutting his hand in two places because of the jagged edges. They're both alive and received medical attention, but Zsasz currently has two victims to make up for and is in a horrible state. He tried to attack poor Dr. Chen when he was being bandaged up, must be the reason they installed those new cameras, pretty nifty right?" The whole spiel was fast paced and some words slurred together, but with the way Jonathan started to reach toward me, as if to touch me in comfort, I needed to get it all out. His arm froze and he drew his hand back slowly.

"Must be." He looked up and saw the two cameras currently surveying the location. "I haven't heard the local gossip yet. Not being able to get to bed until late last night caused me to tune out the daily drivel between my other coworkers."

"Yeah, well they really went all out. The cameras even have built in microphones." I said with a smile. "I feel much safer now, there's even one in my office. This will certainly help the place though breakouts if they occur again."

He noted my sarcastic tone, we both knew what criminals could do if they tapped into this level of surveillance. "I can attest to that, I've been here a few more years than you. Things can get pretty hectic."

"Well, I'll speak to you some other time then." I gave another phoney smile.

"Yes, do take care." He lifted his hand in a lazy goodbye and we both turned to go our separate ways.

XXXXX

My mind was reeling. Although I hadn't done anything compromising since the installation of the cameras, I would eventually need to return to my work in solitary. That would mean either finding a way to bypass them or confronting Warden Sharp about their impromptu installation. Both would be risky, but one a bit easier.

I found my boss roaming the halls with the disposition of a farmer scrutinizing a scrawny crop."Warden." The disgusted expression on his face left and he turned toward me.

"Dr. Crane." He addressed me, adjusting his glasses so they were higher up on his nose. "Yes, I've been meaning to chat with you. You're under investigation."

(A/N: Not a coincidence that Joker's right hand was injured.)