"What's on your mind?"

Dark eyes looked away from the night sky, glancing at the woman beside him. There was no way he was going to talk about it. Not to her...

After that night five years ago, the sweet voice never spoke another word to him again. Taking a makeup pallet from the woman's purse in the motel room from the couple he had killed the night before, he created a new portrait of himself.

Using his fingers and dipping them into the creamy shades in the pans, Jack smeared the colors across his broken skin and bringing out his true self. Some think that wearing a mask or makeup was a way to conceal their identity or imperfections...but it was the opposite for him.

The red brought his scars to the forefront, drawing people's eyes to them immediately. The human eye couldn't help being drawn to that color first out of all the others on the spectrum. It was instinctive. Bringing out just how horrible and jagged his ruined mouth was brought fear to others. They were apart of him, why hide them? Seeing others reactions was entertaining as the wheels in their heads turned, ranging from horror to curiosity...even sympathy at times.

The latter was the most annoying. The only time that happened was when the doctors in Arkham or whatever institution he was locked up in at the time would ask questions about it. Who did that to you? Did you do it yourself? How do you feel about them? Are you embarrassed? If you could get rid of them, would you?

No...he wouldn't. Each time the doctors asked those questions, he'd give them a different answer or story every time...if he answered at all. It was entertaining to see their reactions. Sometimes he'd tell a story about a nonexistent wife being killed by loan sharks and carving up his face as payment for her debt. Another time, he was a soldier who had been wounded in an IED attack and shrapnel did the job...A mob boss didn't like that he was sleeping with his wife, had his face slit open and tossed him from the docks...Then there was the tale about him doing it to himself so all his girlfriends would stop harassing him.

They would usually believe him until they started comparing notes... It was hilarious! Each psychiatrist had believed they were making headway in his recovery, that they had gained an understanding...trust even. After a while, they would consult one of his older doctors to get files on him, think they were about to make a breakthrough...just to find out they hadn't gotten anywhere. Seeing how they worked so hard on building a tower of cards, just for him to pull the Joker card out from the bottom row to see everything fall apart was satisfying.

Even if he did want to open up and tell them everything, no one would understand... How could they? From the get go, they labeled him as an insane criminal with no humanity. That wasn't true... He wasn't insane.

For a long time, Jack really thought that he'd lost it. Hearing things that weren't really there and eventually seeing hallucinations. Becoming so lost in his own grief, his mind had manifested illusions to bring some sort of comfort, to make the pain and loneliness a little less unbearable. His guilt had added to it, constantly reminding him of what had happened and punishing himself day in and day out. Part of him thought it was only right...

It was that night he hallucinated seeing Sakura in that motel room that changed all of that. Looking at her hateful green eyes and sneer...at first it completely broke him. Later that night as he sat in front of the mirror staring at his painted face, everything became clear.

That wasn't Sakura. She would never treat him like that. Never say that she hated him and that he should just die. His mind that imprinted his own thoughts and feelings about himself onto her. Her image was like a manifestation of his past and the mistakes he made...and true desires. Then, there was himself, which was the present. An angry, deluded broken man driven mad by that one bad day. The pinkette had guided him from falling into complete insanity by leading him to the path that he needed to take. The person painted in the mirror, the future.

It was seeing this that freed his mind. When Jack had closed his eyes after seeing the white face looking back at him, she was gone. Completely... In a way, it was like she was telling him to let go, even if it was all in his mind. The only way to survive and move forward was to leave the Jack from the past where he belonged and to embrace what was ahead. No more holding back, no more rules, only chaos. That had brought him back from the black hole of insanity.

While everyone assumed the Joker was insane, he really wasn't. It was that his thought and views were so clear they couldn't and wouldn't come to terms with it. People enjoy looking through rose colored glasses. He popped the lenses out and threw them in the trash where they belonged. They couldn't grasp reality or humanity for what it really was, like he could. He wasn't crazy, just ahead of the curve...

"Nothing much, dollface. Just relaxing." Part of him wanted to tell her everything, to open up. She would understand, always did. It was far too dangerous... Bad things happen to people who know too much.

"Hn, sure... I can tell that you're lying. Can't fool me.. I won't pry, you would tell me if you wanted me to know...I guess.."

Joker closed his eyes as a grin tugged at his scars. This was what he appreciated about her. She knew him so well without even knowing much about the person he'd become. Spending years growing up together would do that. Somethings you just can't change. Smart enough to instinctively know something was off, but clever enough to know not to push the envelope when it wasn't necessary.

After telling Sakura that she would have to leave the city, it was great that she trusted him enough to accept it without a huge, drawn out and unnecessary fight. Some people would have to go fighting and screaming, not wanting to be told what to do or wanting to show their independence. She was wise enough to understand that he was only doing it to protect her and not leave them vulnerable in this situation, but had her own mind to have her own conditions. The pinkette was someone willing to compromise with the person she trusted and believed in.

It was refreshing... After all, he didn't want to have to resort to plan B which involved tying her up and transporting her in the trunk of a car. If that's what it would have had to come down to, he'd do it. No questions asked...

"Hey, since I'm all dolled up... Why don't we go out somewhere to eat? Seems I was too late for dinner..." Leaning over, he nibbled on the soft skin of her neck, making her shrink away as she laughed.

"I don't know... Last time we were both in a restaurant together, you were throwing bottles at people." Green eyes glared at him, trying to keep a straight face. It was cracking as he raised a brow at her.

"Maybe it was because someone was out on a date with a scumbag. I was just tryin' to give you a hand. You know, do what you weren't willing to do..."

"Sure..." Sitting up, Sakura ran a hand through her pink hair as she looked out at the water. "...I'm glad you robbed that bank. If you hadn't I wonder when or if we would have run into each other. Ever if you made the whole situation uncomfortable... Hahaha...I guess if a stranger just walked up to me and said I was someone else, I would have thought they were insane."

"Never thought I'd hear someone say they were glad I did something baddd. You really are a weird chick, that's what I like about you." Fingers trailed through the silky locks running down her back, feeling the curve of her spine through the fabric of her blue dress.

This was how he imagined things would be if they hadn't had that one bad day. Sitting by their favorite spot, enjoying each other's company and talking about whatever came to mind. Everything happens for a reason though, even if it's not a good one. Neither were "regular" people, so a "regular" relationship just wasn't in the cards for them.

"I'm glad that when you came back to Gotham, there wasn't a husband and brats in tow..."

The pinkette turned her head to look at him, face scrunching up into a pout. "Why, what would you have done if I did?"

"Granted you a divorce. Permanently...Hahahaha!" He would have killed them...all of them but her.

Smacking his chest, she clicked her tongue. "Permanently... I couldn't really have imagined getting married or having kids. It wasn't something I thought about for myself in a very long time..." Her expression went from being wistful to You're a twisted guy, you know that?"

"I may have heard that once or twice before. So about dinner... I'll do my best not to throw anything, but I can't guarantee it...but if you don't think it's a good idea..." Sitting up, Joker leaned forward nuzzling her neck, the scars rubbing along her soft skin. "I'm okay with eating out at your place...if you can handle it."

A wolfish grin spread across his mouth as he watched her turn away, face beet red as she became flush with embarrassment. It was always fun teasing her...


A knock on the door made the blonde look up from the paperwork on her desk. Raising a light brow, she glanced at the clock in confusion. The next counseling session wasn't for another hour... Usually the guards would escort her to a secure room equipped with CCTV for these appointments. Aside from that, no one would usually come to her office. If anyone needed anything from her, she would have been paged...

"Come in?"

Harley pushed her chair back away from the desk as the door opened, pressing her fingers together as the person entered.

"Dr. Harleen Quizel? I'd like to apologize for showing up a bit unannounced, but it's imperative to speak with you this morning." The tall man walked into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Okay... Um, who are you? People aren't allowed to just show up here as they please, sir. This is a mental health facility... How did you get through security without having an appointment or clearance?" The woman's blue eyes narrowed, looking at the dark haired man suspiciously.

"Sorry, ma'am... I should have introduced myself first. My name is Hyeon Choi, I'm a representative from the D.A.'s office. There's a few questions I'd like to ask you...regarding a previous patient of yours. The Joker. This is a very important matter." The handsome Asian man sat down in an empty chair along side the desk that was positioned against the far wall.

Harley's blue eyes widened at him, feeling her heart skip a beat at the name coming from his lips. The Joker...Mr. J...Her puddin'... Every time an article popped up in the paper or there was a segment on the news, her eyes became transfixed even after it was over.

It wasn't suppose to be this way... She was his doctor, and he...her patient. It was her job to help rehabilitate him to be able to live a normal life.

Their sessions had started off slow, with the barefaced man barely talking. The walls were up so high, it seemed no one would be able to make any progress. The other doctors had long given up, becoming fed up with making no real headway. When he would open up or tell stories, they always ended up being creatively woven tales that contradicted each other.

Instead of throwing in the towel like the others had, Harley had seen it as a personal challenge. If she was going to help him and become the doctor she had set out to be, giving in wasn't an option. Here there was a man sitting in front of her that needed help and no one wanted to go the extra mile for him. That was the reason people turned out this way. They are shoved into a hospital when no one would put the time or effort into helping and are long forgotten. It was for this reason that Gotham had become so hopeless. No one cared enough to really look at another human being and care. Really care...

She would have to show him that she's not like anyone else. If only they could find a common ground, maybe he'd let her scale a fraction of that wall. Going about this normally wouldn't work, the other doctors who had far more experience had tried and failed numerous times.

Harley couldn't help feeling sympathy without anything being said. Seeing the terrible scar on his face, it was clear this man had went through some horrible ordeal. Just looking at them, you can tell it wasn't self inflicted. The way strokes along the corners of him mouth and under his lip screamed of hatred. Whoever had done it, did it with the intent to make him suffer. It was cruel. During her research to find out what she could to help out with the sessions, she had been pictures of Glasgow victims and seen the way gangs would cut open people's mouth to send a message or for payback. The mob would, in some rare instances around Boston, use this tactic to spread fear and make it their calling card. Even those weren't as horrible as the ones on his face. If it had been over money or business, it wouldn't look this way. This had clearly been personal, only increasing her curiosity.

After weeks of having sessions every week, he opened up a little bit at a time. Whether what he spoke of were just lies or ramblings, it didn't matter. This man was intriguing...far more than the other patients. His view on the world was very different, questioning anything and everything around them. She found herself taking part in these conversations more and more each time, trying to ingest anything he had to say after keeping her at a distance with his lies and morbid jokes.

The Joker was far more intelligent than the other doctors had given him credit for. They just saw him as a raving lunatic who just wanted to see the world burn. She knew better, he was just misunderstood. While they saw a psychotic murderer in clown makeup, she saw a lonely man angry at the world for its cruelty. All he really needed was someone to listen and understand him, and he chose her to be that person.

Of all the people, why her? Long nights were spent tossing and turning mulling over his words and actions, taking up any extra space in her head and free time. After a while, the sessions had become the best part of her week. There was someone she could have an intelligent conversation with who didn't judge her solely on gender and looks like the rest of the staff at Arkham did. Their bond was special, that was clear as day to her. She was the chosen one who could help him have a normal life and he gave her what she most desired, but hadn't realized...freedom.

"Care to tell me how this got into my office?..." Standing at the bulletproof glass door, her blue eyes narrowed in on the man lying across the small bed. His arms were behind his head, an innocent look across his handsome features. The blonde froze as she saw a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I put it there."

"I think the guards would be interested to know you've been out of your cell..." Harleen crossed her arms over her chest, challenging the carefree man. How would he react to that? Everything he did was intriguing..with no regards to the rules or proper social conduct.

"If you really were going to tell, you already would have." A knowing smirk lit up his face as he raised a curious brow in her direction. This man...really knew how to get under a person's skin. The way he was able to know someone's intention before even they did was on another level.

Biting the inside of her lip, she didn't know how to respond. What did this mean? How did he break out of his cell without alerting a single guard? Why did he do it just to put a note with a flower on her desk? Where did he even get it?

A breath passed through her lips as the beating in her chest quickened. Did he have feelings for her after all this time? Was she finally making headway where no one else could? This was dangerous...all the other staff told her to be careful and not listen to him, but she didn't listen. Now she couldn't stop even if she wanted to.

None of the men the blonde dated were worth even remembering. Always so...boring with only one thing on their minds. They never really listened or took her seriously. Just wanted to buy dinner and go back to their place. Mr. J was different... Not only did he listen carefully, but always knew what to say. Not once did he sexualize her or try lunging for her throat even when he wasn't chained up. It must mean something...

"...You have all these rules, and you think they'll save you." Blue eyes widened as she watched his tongue snake out over his bottom lip, tracing the cracked skin of his scars. "Day in and day out, following the same boring routine because you think you HAVE to...because that's what you've been told to do. Following the system blindly and denying yourself alllll the little things life has to offer."

Sitting up on the bed, his dark eyes stared at her intently, making the slender woman squirm on her feet. That look...it was smoldering. You could see that wheels in his head turning, but never knew which direction they were turning in.

"DO what you want, Doc. Cut the strings that are tying you down to the puppeteers hands. I can see it in your eyes in our first session. Something inside you wants to break free...to fight for what you truly want. Each small move you make only tangles those strings around you tighter and tighter, knotting up. Take a knife and cut yourself free already."

Harleen stood there transfixed by this man. It was like he was able to look into her soul, saying the things she would never dare to even utter...

"Doctor Quinzel?..." The dark haired man leaned forward in his chair, trying to get he attention.

"...Oh, yes... The Joker..." What did this man want with her puddin'? What was it that he wanted to now that wasn't already common knowledge by this point?

"The District Attorney and I would appreciate your assistance, Doctor. Anything...ANYTHING you can tell us would be helpful. You were his psychiatrist, the only one who was able to last for more than a few weeks. If anyone would have information or some insight, we would assume it to be you. Any records...transcripts...CCTV footage... We would like you to hand them over if possible, so that we can learn something about this maniac."

Harley raised an eyebrow at the man staring intently at her. What did they want? They wanted her to sell out Mr. J? Over her dead body.

"I'm sorry, Mr...Choi..., but there's a littttle thing called patient confidentiality. I'm not just going to hand everything over to you without him signing a release form...and I don't see that happening. No one even knows where he is...that would be impossible. You're not the first and certainly not the last to try getting your hands on them." The blonde bristled, feeling agitated. No way would she betray the only man who ever listened to her. If they did learn something and it ended up getting him killed, she'd never forgive herself. He was going to come back and take her away soon anyway...

Hyeon was quiet, dark eyes assessing her. "Hn. Is that so... You do realize the situation we're all in, correct? If something isn't done, more people will die. Gotham will end up burning while you sit here trying to protect a criminal. Is that what you want? To have more blood on your hands as he destroys EVERYTHING? As a psychiatrist, you should be able to see how insane this person is and that he's beyond anyone's help..."

"Do you have a degree in psychology...Mr. Choi?" Narrowing her eyes at the man in front of her, it was clear that he was another one of those people... The one's who were a part of the problem, making it harder to help those patients in need. To them, it would always be easier to just get rid of everyone who didn't fit in their perfect little mold.

"Well, no-"

"Then leave the assessing job to the people certified to do so. You shouldn't just label a human being as insane without having any idea what you're talking about." This man had no knowledge of what he was trying to talk about, only judging without understanding.

"Okay then Doctor, what do you can a man like the Joker who kills people with no remorse and is trying to blow up half the city every other day? Hmm? Have you seen the pictures of his victims? Do you have any idea of the damage he's causing every single day he's on the loose? How many families have to sit by while losing their loved one?!" The vein by his temple throbbed as his voice grew louder with every sentence. It was clear from Harley's experience that the wasn't just about helping others, it was more personal. The way he talked, the words he chose, his body language...it all screamed out to the psychologist in her.

"He's not insane...in fact, he know very well what's he's doing. I diagnosed him as a high-functioning sociopath a while ago myself. Even if I gave you all my records on him, there's nothing you will learn from them. The Joker is not someone who can be understood easily, especially from a person at the D.A.'s office with no background knowledge such as yourself. Mr. Dent fall into that same category as well... Do yourself a favor, Mr. Choi. Move on... Whatever it is that is causing your rage and forming that little vendetta in your head is not worth it. All that will happen is you finding yourself at the bottom of a dark hole you will never be able to climb out of..."

Hyeon's eyes widened as he froze, staring at the doctor sitting behind the desk. Harley inwardly smiled, knowing she hit the hammer right on the head. It didn't take knowing what actually transpired to know that something indeed had.

"You...you know nothing... I was hoping you would be cooperative with us, but it's become very clear that isn't happening. If you don't want to hand over the files willingly, the D.A.'s office will have to force Arkham's hand, one way or another. I don't know why or what you're trying to keep from us, but everything comes to light eventually. I wasted enough of my time here, I'll see myself out." Standing up, Hyeon pulled the front edges of his suit together, seething.

"Have a nice day, Mr. Choi." A smirk spread across her face as she watched the man opening the door hastily and throwing a glare her way as he left.

Sighing, Harley couldn't help worrying as she turned back to the paperwork on her desk. What was going to happen now? The D.A.'s office must be desperate at this point... What did they really hope to learn, when even the doctors at Arkham had very little to work with?

Running a hand through the front of her blonde hair, she stuck the end of the pen in her hand between her lips, chewing on the end. What would she do now? Looking at the stack of papers on her desk, she didn't want to even touch it. All that was running through her mind was Mr. J and if he was going to be okay... Nothing was going to happen to her puddin'...right?

'What if he's gotten in over his head this time?... No, he was a genius. I'm sure he already knows that the D.A. was sticking their noses where it didn't belong...but what is he going to do now? What should I do now?'

Running her slim fingers down her face, it felt like her head was going to explode. Something had to be done... She needed to protect the man she loves at all costs. To show him there is a person he could trust that really cares.

Smacking the pile of papers on her desk off the edge and into the trash can, it was clear as day.

"DO what you want, Doc. Cut the strings that are tying you down to the puppeteers hands.

If they were going to be together, she needed to show him it was serious. Even if she had to go up against Arkham and the D.A. The last thing she could do was sit around and wait for that little shit to come back with a warrant to seize all of the records she had meticulously kept all this time.

'I'll burn them... I'll have to burn them all... Even the tapes from our sessions. I'll have to go into the storage room and take everything from there too. I don't care if I get fired anymore...'


The light filtering through the partially open window was too bright, agitating the dark eyes looking at the wall.

Licking the scar below his lip, the Clown Prince sat up on the bed, reaching up and yanking the curtain closed. He preferred the darkness... It was easy on the eyes. The only bright lights he really enjoyed were from flames and explosions. Those were enough to make his heart flutter with excitement.

Laying back down against the sheets, he glanced over to the woman sleeping next to him. Limbs sprawled out in different directions, she was peacefully out of it in only a large t-shirt. Little breaths left her partially open plump lips as she continued slumbering.

It was only natural... They didn't get back to the apartment till the early hours of the morning... It was an odd feeling walking around the streets like a normal man...he didn't like it. The only reason he put up with it was because he thought it would make her happy and they could go out undisturbed. To his satisfaction, the pinkette didn't like his different look either.

As soon as they walked through the door, she yanked the latex right off his face. A chuckle let his marred lips think about it.

This peaceful time was about to end... For the short time, he'd let himself enjoy it before it was gone. Tomorrow was the announced press conference that Dent set up. Supposedly, the Batman would reveal his true identity and turn himself in. It wasn't going to be that simple, it never was. Why would he give in after all these years? There had been plenty of criminals going to extreme lengths to get that information and only end up with a special spot in Arkham or Blackgate.

There was more to it than meets the eye. Something was going to happen, whether on Dent's end or the Bat's. He could feel it... Did they really think they could end his fun with such an anticlimactic ending? No.. It wasn't going to end this way.

Part of the fun of messing with the Bat was NOT knowing who he really was. Initially, he suspected that it had been Dent under the mask, but he quickly realized it wasn't. Dent was a schemer, sure...but the Bat? No. It was enjoyable watching them all squirm trying to get in the way of his plans. If they really thought he'd stop if someone revealed themselves as the caped crusader, then they were sadly mistaken. He just wanted to see how far he could push all of them. What desperate acts they would pull.

Dent wasn't going to pull the curtain on his little show. No one was going to get in the way of his fun, not with Gotham and especially not Batsy. What would he do without the caped crusader? Go back to ripping off mob dealers? Screw that. Nothing in this city could give him the rush the way Batman does. Not the mob, not the police, certainly not the D.A.

Batman was the only one who could pick up what he was putting down. The only person who understood the clues left behind at the crime scenes... Not even Gordon with decades of experience even came close to matching wits. It was exhilarating to see him in action, not knowing if this was the final time he'd let him make a mockery out of the system he oh so carefully clung to.

They were on the same level, just opposite sides of the coin. While the Bat was physically stronger, he was smarter. They usually ended things with both getting hurt, but still standing.

Joker symbolized anarchy and chaos... Batman stood for justice and order, even if he didn't follow the laws of the city. He took his own version of justice into his hands, just like the clown did. It was hilarious how alike they were and Gotham's Dark Knight didn't even realize it.

It was a thrilling game of cat and mouse. Neither knew exactly which was which though, always switching places. The Bat clung to his own set of rules so rigidly,it was fun to push him to see which ones he'd break and which one's he refused to budge on. It was the greatest challenge...to push him to the edge and see him tumble down into the black hole the Joker called home.

"Heh...haha...HAHAHAHA!" Just thinking about it was enough to make him break out into a fit of laughter. The Bat always had to improvise when they ran into each other, not use to dealing with someone who did hat ever that came to mind. He was use to dealing with mobsters for years who always did the same old thing. It wasn't until guys like Scarecrow and himself appeared that he had to start flexing those muscles in his head if he wanted to prevent tragedies from happening to his precious city.

The woman next to him stirred, his raucous laughter breaking through that thin veil of sleep she was under. A groan left her pink lips, shifting her body around the sheets. Slender legs straightened out as she stretched them, moving her feet around in circles.

"Hmmm.." Dark eyes watched the pinkette move around slowly, trying to find a comfortable spot, still half asleep. He wanted her to wake up, tired of staring at the wall and wanting her company.

'If she doesn't wanna wake up, I'll just make her...'

Joker always got what he wanted, even if it took a little longer than he'd like...

Licking up the side of his scar, he sat up and moved closer to the woman trying to fall back asleep. This was his greatest distraction...and one of the things he most desired out of this crappy world.

Hovering over the pinkette, he leaned in, running his scarred mouth down the column of her neck... The softness of her skin against his rough exterior was so enjoyable.

Unlike how him and Batman were two sides of the same coin, they were opposites. She was bright and soft compared to his darkness and rugged ways. Down to their hair, skin, and even manner of speech...everything was different. Perhaps that was what was so attractive. People usually found themselves yearning for something very different from themselves. His hands were always covered in blood, hers were completely untainted...and hopefully it would stay that way.

The women of the streets were always getting into something far bigger than themselves, not thinking clearly or just acting out of desperation. At the end of the day, they dirtied themselves and nothing could change that. Sakura would allow him to cover her in his filth, but it always washed away.

Kissing down her neck, he watched the pinkette's eyes flutter open, relieved she was finally waking up. There wasn't much time left to enjoy things like this...

Running his large hand up her body as he trailed down her abdomen, a groan left his lips watching as she ran a hand over her face, green eyes looking around in confusion.

"Wha-...Jack, what are you doing?"