Warnings: This another heavy one. Alcohol use. Allusions to suicide. Angst out the wazoo.

A/N: None.

...

Jennifer walked tentatively to his front door. She knocked. Knocked again. No answer.

She banged on the door this time. She considered the possibility he went somewhere else, though she could have sworn she heard his door slam minutes ago, after he left her apartment. Worry clawed at her mind. BANG BANG BANG. "Arthur, please let me in," she pleaded.

She swore she saw the door move, shift in its frame, but it didn't open. "Please, Jenny, I just need be alone."

Jennifer drew back. "Okay." She took a deep breath. "I'm here, if you need me." She was about to leave, but before she did, she moved closer to the door, whispered to it, "I love you."

Arthur, on the other side, did hear her. He caressed the wood of the door where he thought her face might be. He felt like a fool and an idiot; not someone deserving of her attention, much less her love and affection.

Whether or not the most powerful man in all of Gotham was actually his dad, he had to be kidding himself if he thought he'd accept him. Him. Arthur Fleck. Or whoever he really was. Some nothing that didn't deserve anyone's love. Who could never really give any back. Not really.

Arthur retreated into his kitchen. Stared at nothing as he tried to think of nothing. Tried to make his mind a total blank. Tried to silence the voices in his head. But they just came from outside instead…. His phone rang. His landlord a couple of times. Then the police.

Wasn't it just the other day when he was on top of the world? With Jennifer, in the donut shop, having just accomplished a huge milestone of his first real performance on stage, the whole world celebrating him, his girl by his side...

Maybe this was the comeuppance. The inevitable. The other shoe to drop.

He opened his fridge. He tore out the rotten food and the ice trays and the empty containers and the shelves and, when there was enough room, he crawled inside. He shut the door. He was disappointed to find that the door opened easily. He always thought these things couldn't be opened from the inside. Oh well; what was one more disappointment. He stayed inside the blank, cold space until he was one the verge of passing out. He let his mind fall on whatever as the cold slowed everything to a crawl.

Jennifer had retreated to her apartment. She sunk down on her couch, held her head in her hands. She would cry, if she wasn't so angry. She never wanted someone to suffer like she wanted that fucking prick Thomas Wayne to suffer, after knowing what he did. She had had high hopes at one point, that maybe he'd turn out to be the father figure Arthur always needed. Maybe eventually the one she was lacking. Just…somebody, some source of strength and stability. An Adult who could come into their lives where the two of them, not much more than a couple of lost children, were just wandering aimlessly. Jennifer didn't feel like she could be the rock for both of them much longer.

Her eyes moved up to her liquor cabinet. She moved on instinct, getting up and walking up to it. She unlocked it swiftly and pulled out some Wild Turkey. Sanity and sense be damned.

….

Jennifer woke up with a start. She looked around. It was sunny in the room. She struggled to focus her vision enough to read her wall clock: 11:11 AM.

She groaned. Couldn't remember the last time she'd gone on a bender like she had last night. It was definitely before she met Arthur.

Art.

She got up to head out the door and for his apartment, but the hammer beating at her skull caused her to fall back onto the couch. She groaned even louder. Geeze, was she not only going soft, but also not able to handle her liquor anymore, either? She rubbed the heel of her palm hard against her forehead a few times before taking a deep breath.

Jennifer made herself some coffee and toast. Arthur had never seen her hung over, but she figured somehow he probably knew the signs. She didn't want him to see her like that.

After taking a shower and spending some time to make herself appear human again, she left her bathroom. She jumped when she saw Arthur sitting on her couch.

"Shit–Art–what–what are doing here?"

He struggled to put on a smile. "I can leave."

She grasped at her chest, where it felt like her heart was about to break free. "No, no, don't. You just scared me. Didn't expect to see you there."

He glanced down. "I'm not that horrible to look at, am I?"

Jennifer narrowed her eyes. "…No? Of course not." She did take a moment to really look him over in that moment. He had also showered, changed, and dragged a comb through his hair at some point since she last saw him. All a good sign. "I was just about to go over and see you. I didn't feel too well this morning. Allergies again I guess. Maybe a cold for real this time." She even coughed a couple of times for added effect as she headed into her kitchen.

"You have some interesting choices for cough syrup," Arthur observed quietly. She looked over to see he was staring straight at the bottles of Wild Turkey, Grey Goose, and Guinness that she downed last night and early this morning, just sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

She felt like a total idiot.

She rushed in and scooped up the bottles, taking them back to the kitchen, where she hid them and other, older bottles in the cupboard area beneath her sink. She felt shame prick her conscience as she did so.

She turned around to see Arthur standing in the open archway. "Those are because of me, aren't they?"

Jennifer turned away. Pursed her lips until they hurt. "A bit, to be honest. But at the end of the day it's my choice."

Arthur just nodded. She could hear his breathing change, before he suddenly stepped up to her and pulled her into a tight embrace. But his body was still and his arms moving gently over her as as sobs started to rack her body this time.

"Do you want me to leave? Leave you alone? I just seem to cause you a lot of pain."

Jennifer pulled back. "No. Never. Don't ever think any of that." She wiped the tears from her face. "I'm just stressed."

"From taking care of me," Arthur added. He pulled away. "From having to deal with me at all."

"Arthur," she called out as he was moving to leave. "Whatever you think or feel…please just believe me when I say I need you just as much. You're…all I have, frankly." She laughed. Not meanly; not in amusement; maybe in some disbelief at being so alone, or at having found anyone at all; but mostly out of worn and frayed nerves and not knowing what else to do.

Arthur nodded once. "Okay."

….

They spent the rest of that day together, but between the two of them there was only enough energy and enthusiasm to eat, watch TV, and sleep.

"Are you sure you'll be okay while I'm gone?" Jennifer asked just before she was about to leave for work the next morning.

He offered a small smile. "I'll be fine." It wasn't entirely enough to convince her, but she'd have to settle for it.

To her confusion but pleasant surprise, when Jennifer called to check in late that afternoon, Arthur sounded up, cheerful. "Hey! I was just thinking of you."

That cheery attitude was still there when he picked her up from the train. He chatted her up about many inconsequential things. She wondered what prompted the change, but more than that she was just sort of grateful for it, so she didn't ask.

Arthur had wanted to tell her the news at one point. How that woman from the Murray Franklin show had called him and asked if he wanted to guest on the show next Thursday. Particularly when she had first called, and he had trouble believing any of it was real. In his mind, he had told a version of Jennifer, and "Jennifer" had not been happy with the news.

"Are you an idiot? You know he's just inviting you on there to make fun of you, right? You're only 'popular' because everyone's laughing at your act, at how pitiful it is," "Jennifer" said, before taking a long drag on a cigarette.

"You're right. You're always right…." Arthur paced around his living room. He stopped. "But maybe…it's a chance. It's my chance to make a mark."

….

The next evening, Arthur was a bit more subdued again. Somewhat anxious, particularly the closer they got to the apartment complex.

"Something wrong?"

"Could you help me with something? If you're not too tired?"

"Of course. What is it?"

Later, after Jennifer changed clothes and made some dinner for both of them, he opened up his apartment. It struck her the cigarette smoke smelled even stronger in there than it had in the past, but maybe it was the effect on her nose of not having been in the apartment for several days. The other thing she noticed right away was a folding screen blocking the entrance to the kitchen. Kind of odd, but she ignored it for the time being, particularly after seeing how torn up his living room was already.

"I emptied out both these cabinets. The drawers in the coffee table. That pile of papers and those boxes over there," he motioned toward the area next to the TV, "the drawers in that little side table. Nothing," he sighed.

"There has to be something. Adoption papers. Medical records. Your birth certificate at least." Jennifer looked around. "It doesn't exactly look like your mom throws away a lot of stuff."

Arthur sat on the edge of his coffee table, on the smidgen of space not covered in papers. "Any ideas?" he asked, surveying the mess around him.

She gave it some thought, looked around.

"A woman's most important possessions will always be close at hand," she said, quoting her grandmother.

Before Arthur could say anything, she crossed the living room and entered Penny's room. Arthur followed. She looked around the bedroom. She had plenty of contenders, but for some reason she had a feeling….

She lowered herself near the most slept-in side of the bed, so she rested on her folded legs. She took a deep breath as her brain was working. She looked inside the beside table drawers. Nothing. No, that would have been too easy. She checked behind the table, looked under the bed, even lifted up the mattress a bit.

It occurred to her. She pulled the bottom drawer of the bedside table all the way out, lifting it off its tracks so she could remove it completely.

"What are you doing?" Arthur asked from behind her. Jennifer didn't answer. Just placed the drawer to the side as she spotted what she thought she was looking for. She reached into the space that was beneath the bottom drawer and pulled out a worn, brown folding file. She turned and handed it to Arthur.

He took it, before plopping down on the side of Penny's bed. She rose from the ground and sat down beside him. He unwrapped the string figure 8'd around two buttons on the front, before folding back the top of it. They both peered in.

Most of the sleeves contained letters. A couple dozen yellowing sheets covered with faded lettering. "To my dearest Thomas." Seemingly in Penny's hand, though the handwriting seemed more rushed or sloppy, even though she would have been younger when they were written. Jennifer wondered aloud whether these were drafts of letters, or were simply never sent, if Penny still had them.

So much of their content was love-sick drivel, but there were references to Arthur in a couple of them. One seemingly written when was pregnant with him: "I understand your needing to stay away, but I've never been more frightened. I feel sick so much…." Another after he was born: "Please don't think less of me for this, please don't think this is me going against our agreement, but I haven't been able to find work and I've barely been been able to keep our son fed. I don't know who else to turn to…."

There was one letter that was definitely unfinished; it stopped mid-sentence. It started: "Why did you put me here? I don't belong here in Arkham of all places. I know it was you–please don't deny the truth. What could I have done wrong.…"

Jennifer and Arthur exchanged looks. It wasn't the weightiest evidence. It could have been fabricated nonsense. But it was something–something more than he had before.

The only other written material in the file was what looked like a card from a bouquet of flowers. There had been some sort of writing on it at one point, but the card was too water damaged to make out a name or handwriting or anything consequential.

The rest of folder the contained a broken wrist watch, some ribbon, and a handful of snapshots of Penny when she was younger.

Arthur let out an exasperated breath as his shoulders slumped.

"Hold on," Jennifer said, before taking the several photos out of Arthur's hand. She checked the back of each one; the fourth one had something. "Arthur." She handed the photo back to him.

"'Love that smile.' TW." Arthur looked at Jennifer quickly.

She shook her head as she smirked. "That doesn't look like her handwriting."

Arthur looked back down at the photo. Stared at it silently for a moment or two. Jennifer returned to studying the other photos. She noticed for the first time that one photo was actually two stuck together. Very carefully, she separated the two photos, trying and mostly succeeding in not doing any damage to the second one. It was a baby boy, sitting in a chair, looking confused at the camera. His hair was lighter…. She wondered if this could have been another child, but upon closer inspection, she spotted the same scar on the upper lip, and she knew who it was.

She felt a softness and sadness looking at the baby boy sitting in a chair in his onesie.

"You were cute," Jennifer said, as she handed him the baby photo.

He took it. His look mirrored the child's in the photo at first. "This is me?"

Jennifer leaned in close. "Looks like."

A smile spread over this face. "I–I never saw this before. I've never seen any…."

She looked at him, questioning. "Art, does Penny have any photos of you around here?"

"Not that I've ever seen." He looked up at her; there were tears pooling in his eyes. "That's not normal, is it?" Both their minds flashed to Jennifer's family photo album.

She looked away, shook her head. "I don't know," whispered, was all she could offer in answer.

Arthur held both Penny's and his photo in front of him.

"I still need more than this."

"I don't blame you." She started to collect the letters and other photos and carefully slipped them back into the file folder. Arthur handed her the photos he was holding; she stole one more glance at both before also putting them away. Retying the string.

"Can I–"

"Hmm?"

"Can I hold on to this?" she asked, indicating the folder.

He gave her a questioning look this time. "Why?"

"Because it's important to you, so it's important to me. Besides, I feel like you're probably going to tear this whole place apart, searching for answers, and I just want to make sure it's safe."

"You're right…." He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "You're always right."

….

He did, indeed, spend the next 24 hours tearing through that apartment, searching, and searching again, for any more evidence of who he was, where he came from. None was found.

"Not even a birth certificate? How have you managed all these years without that?"

"Had one years ago, but lost it. I could have sworn it said Penelope Fleck on it, but…."

"Yeah…." That could have easily been amended, forged, God only knew. It would be something…but not hard proof.

Arthur rose from his spot on the couch, where he was trying to reorganize everything he had torn apart in the living room. "I'm going to Arkham tomorrow. They have to have something, if my mom was–is–really…."

Jennifer looked at him, worried. She didn't want to encourage or dissuade; she felt in some part guilty for the whole Wayne Hall incident, since she had been the one to find out about it and encouraged him to go. She didn't want to influence him either way, and feel responsible for the consequences–or lack thereof–later.

"Jenny?"

She shook her head. "Let me know how it goes. What you find."

….

Jennifer had called home an hour before taking off from work, but there had been no answer. She wasn't worried…too much. He'd told her he was probably going to Arkham later in the day. Still, she was anxious to find out what was going on.

She walked home alone. Cursed the sky when it started raining the last block or two to her apartment; she hadn't brought an umbrella with her today. Of course.

She was essentially a drowned rat upon getting home, but she still swung by his door, knocked a few times, but didn't get an answer.

She changed into old jeans and a band shirt after taking a hot shower and felt instantly better. It was raining hard outside. Maybe that's why she hadn't heard him come in to her apartment.

"Shit!" She jumped when she exited her bedroom and saw him sitting hunched over on her couch. "God damn, you need to stop trying to give me a heart attack." Jennifer laughed nervously.

Arthur didn't respond. He was also soaked; his hair hanging in wet tendrils around his face. His hands were moving slowly in random circles over the surface of her coffee table. It looked like maybe he was shaking, maybe from the cold, but she wasn't sure.

"Art?"

A small, almost indiscernible shake of his head. He still wasn't saying anything. She stepped closer to him, spoke his name again, but he still didn't really acknowledge her.

She moved to sit cross-legged on her coffee table right smack in front of him. He moved his hands out of the way, moved so he was hugging himself instead.

"Tell me what happened."

He still wouldn't look up at her. Another, small shake of his head.

"Had a bad day," he mumbled, barely audible above the rain.

"Okay…. Talk to me."

Before today, Arthur was able to piece together some structure of stability and sense of self in his mind. A structure built on certain assumptions, beliefs, hopes. They weren't the strongest building blocks, but he had been able to build enough of something within which to operate, to function. To human, day by day.

Looking through that file…. He was confronted with so much ugliness and darkness. Some things he didn't know; some he had forgotten, successfully suppressed after so many years. They worked like an acid, corroding and discoloring so many of those assumptions, beliefs, and hopes. And as a result, that structure was faltering, cracking.

CRACK.

I…couldn't handle it. Couldn't handle any of it. I broke. My mind just…broke.

He heard Jennifer say it, though her lips didn't move. Their eyes met, locked. There was something in his eyes that was never there before. Something she couldn't name, but she could feel it.

She spotted something. Laying on the couch next to Arthur was a brown folder with several tabbed dividers. The front of it had a label with Penny' s name on it, and it was stamped: PROPERTY OF ARKHAM STATE HOSPITAL.

"Arthur…are–are you supposed to have that?"

Silence.

Jennifer heard a low, growling noise, but she realized it was coming from Paulie. She turned and looked down to see the feline with his haunches up, hair on end, and diluted pupils trained squarely on Arthur. Paulie hissed, before backing up out of the room.

She glanced slowly back up at Arthur. That look in his eyes was still there, but it was darker, more intense. She swallowed.

Something was deeply wrong. She was in danger. She didn't know why, how. What had happened. But her instincts were telling her to get as far away from this man who was only inches away from her.

Christ. What had hindered her sense of self-preservation more, to have her gotten into this situation? Her love for this man, or her hate for herself?

Her mind went into overdrive. "Uh. Arthur. I'm…tired. I need to get up early in the morning. I'm sorry. But if you could…leave now." She had tried to put a friendly inflection on her words, but they just sounded dead to her.

"Art, please…."

Arthur didn't move, except for his eyes, which then seemed to be scanning her whole face.

She shifted, trying to move away subtly. She gasped when his hands shot out and grasped hers. Cold fingers moved gently against her skin, thumbs rubbed against her wrists. Next she knew, his hands were squeezing….

She pulled her hands away, which he didn't resist.

"Jennifer."

She was frozen in place. Not sure what to expect next. He reached a hand out and simply grabbed a piece of her wet hair, rolled it between his fingers. His eyes shifted down and up a few times, between himself and her. He looked…confused?

She had had enough. She didn't care what happened at that point. She was done.

Jennifer shoved his hand away.

"Get. The fuck. Out of my apartment. NOW."

That was noticed. Arthur's whole demeanor, expression changed. Softened. Like whatever dark thing was inhabiting his body had released its grip on him. For a moment. As he stood, a scowl came over this face, before he stormed out of her apartment finally.

She felt her whole body relax. So much so she almost fell off her coffee table. Before she did anything else, she rushed up and locked her front door, even doing the chain lock.

Jennifer turned around and leaned heavily against the door. The adrenaline spiked by fear earlier was fading from her system, leaving her feeling weak. Her eyes wandered over to the couch.

Penny's file was still there.