"What's on your mind?"

Dark eyes tore away from the night sky, glancing at the woman beside him. Sakura didn't need to know about any of the shit he's trudged through over the last seven years. It didn't really matter at this point. The truth of the past would only serve as another spear to pierce through her chest, filling her with guilt and doubt. Why burden her with the evils of the world? There's a darkness in him that always lingers, waiting patiently to strike out at others when they least expect it. Desiring to snuff out everyone in its path, to burn them to ashes and dance in the ruins. If she really knew the depths and extent of his shadow, it might end up engulfing her light.

To the Joker, he's like the night sky. Pitch-black darkness that spans across the entire sky, cold and unwelcoming. The bringer of change that signifies the warmth of the sun can no longer protect anyone, that the end of the day has finally come and cannot be stopped. An absolute, always drawing out the worst in people when they believe that shadow can obscure their sins and chaos ensues. Sakura is the moon, casting the sun's refection that makes the stars shine bright. Ethereal in nature, her pale glow illuminates the way for even the smallest of creatures in the darkness. She brings hope that there's an end to the long night, reminding those who spend countless hours gazing at her beauty, that a new day will come. The sun will always rise, subduing the night sky until it lashes out again, spreading its terrors and the wickedness that hides in its shadows.

The darkness needs light in order to cast a shadow.

Sakura draws out parts of the Joker that he thought were long dead. She makes him far more vicious than he could ever be on his own in order to keep that light in her alive. Like so many others, he also enjoys staring up at the moon, watching how it shines down on the world and makes everything so painfully clear. It's easy to forget what's around when trudging through the darkness, but her soft rays cast away the doubt, breathing life into his body in a way he never thought could happen again. He'll do what's necessary to keep that for himself, to not let a single soul tarnish what's his. It doesn't matter how many skulls he'd have to crush or lives will be snuffed out. If that's what it takes, then so be it. Nothing is more dangerous than a man with something to lose.

There was no way he was going to talk about what happened under the bridge or in the motel room. Not to anyone, especially her... The past should stay exactly where it belongs-in the past. Sakura will stay right where he wants her, far away from the ugly side that tries to destroy everyone. That image of her from that day... The anger burning in those green eyes, sharp words full of bite, her sneer at his anguish... He never wanted to see her wearing that terrible mask again, no matter how beautiful she looked doing it. The world he thrives in takes people like her and breaks them down, creating a hateful shell of their former selves. He refuses to let that happen.

After that night five years ago, the sweet voice whispered in his ear whenever he needed it. Telling him what he wanted to hear at the time and pushing him to keep going. It was after seeing the image in the mirror that everything really changed. He already had his calling, a true goal, but there was something missing that he'd been looking for. An identity to go with this new life. Jack Napier was a weak man that succumbed to his own emotions, who just couldn't get it right. With a little push, anyone can find the correct path to take. He had all the necessary tools for greatness. A sharp mind, strong body, and an iron-clad will to do what needed to be done. What he was lacking, another made up for.

Sitting in that motel room for hours was a night he will never forget. The couple he killed the night before had quite a few belongings they left behind that he helped himself to. Taking a makeup pallet from the woman's suitcase, he created a new portrait of himself. Using his fingers to dip into the creamy shades in the pans, Jack smeared the colors across his broken skin to bring out his true self. Some think of wearing a mask or makeup as a way of concealing their identity or imperfections, but for him...it was the complete opposite.

The red brought his scars to the forefront, drawing people's attention to them immediately. The human eye can't resist 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 truly is brought fear to others. They were apart of him, so why hide them? This world tore him down and left him for dead, because of them. Using it as an excuse reject his existence and refusing to give him a chance. His scars brought out people's ugly side, showing him what they're really like. It helped him sort out the fakes from the real deal.

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. That usually happened with the doctors in whatever institution he was locked up in at the time, asking foolish questions about it. Always nagging and trying to dig up stories or information. They wanted to figure him out, believing the scars were the source of his trauma and intense hatred.

'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. That's if he responded at all. It was amusing 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 wounded in an IED attack and shrapnel did the job. A mob boss didn't like that he was sleeping with his wife, demanding that his face be slit open, before tossing him from the docks. Then there was the tale about him doing it to himself so all his girlfriends would stop harassing him.

So much fun.

They would usually believe him until they started comparing notes. It was hilarious. Each psychiatrist believed they were making headway in his recovery, that they gained an understanding, maybe even his trust. After a while, they would consult one of his older doctors to get files on him, think they were so close to making a breakthrough, only to find out they didn't get 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 and watch everything fall apart was satisfying.

Even if he wanted to open up and tell them everything, no one would understand. Not really. How could they? From the get go, they labeled him an insane criminal with no humanity. A sociopath, narcissist, psychopath, deviant, murderer, tormentor, and his favorite, freak. But none of that was true. The Joker might be a lot of things, but insane isn't one of them.

For a long time, Jack really thought he lost it. Hearing things that weren't really there and eventually seeing hallucinations. Becoming so lost in his own grief that his mind manifested illusions to bring some sort of comfort, to make the pain and loneliness a little less unbearable. His guilt added to it, constantly reminding him of what had happened and punishing himself, day in and day out. It only seemed 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 malicious smile... At first, it completely broke him. The only person in this shit rock of a world that accepted him for all his flaws and shortcomings, the one soul who cared about whether he existed or not. To see that same woman screaming and wanting him dead was far worse than having his face carved open. He would gladly accept that a dozen more times over seeing her like that again. 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, saying she hated him and that he should just die. His twisted mind imprinted his own subconscious thoughts and feelings about himself onto her. Sakura's image was a manifestation of his past and terrible mistakes, even his true desires. Jack was representation of the present, of who was at the time. 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 he needed to take. The person painted in the mirror, the future.

The image in the mirror-his future-helped finally free his mind. When Jack closed his eyes after seeing that white face looking back at him, she was gone... 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 limitations. No holding back. No rules. Just chaos.

While everyone assumed the Joker was insane, he wasn't. His thoughts and views were so clear, they couldn't come to terms with it. People enjoy looking through rose-colored glasses, living in some warm fantasy far away from the cold world around them. The clown refused to wander in some bullshit dream that would never come true. Fuck those glasses. He popped the lenses out and threw them in the trash where they belonged. These fools couldn't grasp reality or humanity for what it really is, not the way he can. He wasn't crazy, just ahead of the curve...

"Nothing much, dollface. Just re-lax-ing." A small part of him-maybe his old self-would have liked to tell her everything and be honest, to open up for once in his godforsaken life. Sakura was understanding, always had been. That couldn't happen, it might tear her apart. The past, present, and future. No matter how patient and caring a person can be, even they have their limits. What if she understood, but couldn't forgive him? That was to much of a gamble. While he liked a challenge and calculating his odds, the risk wasn't worth even contemplating. He needed to be careful and handle things right, especially with anything that involves his plans.

It was far too dangerous... Bad things happen to people who know too much.

"Bullshit... I can tell you're lying. I won't pry... I guess you'd tell me if you wanted me to know."

Joker closed his eyes as a grin tugged at his scars. This is what he appreciates about her. She knows him so well, without even knowing much about the person he became. Spending years growing up together will do that. Somethings just can't be changed, no matter how hard he tries. She's sharp and instinctively knows that something is off, but clever enough to know not to push the envelope when it isn't necessary.

After telling Sakura that she would have to leave the city, it was a relief that she trusts 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 and show their independence. She understands that he's only doing it to protect her and not leave them vulnerable in this situation. The pinkette was someone willing to compromise with him, the person she trusts and believes in, but has her own set of conditions. That showed him that while she's on his side, she still has her own mind and refuses to be a puppet, just doing anything he says.

It was refreshing... After all, he didn't want to have to resort to Plan B. That involved tying Sakura up and transporting her in the trunk of a car. He didn't care for the idea, but if that's what it came down to, he'd do it. No questions asked...

"Since I'm all dolled up... Why don't we go out somewhere to eat? Looks like 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, you were throwing bottles at people." Green eyes glared at him, trying to keep a straight face. It was cracking when 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. Ya know, do what needed to be done..."

"Sure..." Sitting up, Sakura ran a hand through her pink hair, looking out towards the water. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but... I'm glad you robbed that bank. If you didn't, I wonder when or if we would have run into each other. Ever if you made the entire situation uncomfortable. Then again, I guess if a stranger just walked up to me and said I was someone else, I would've thought they were insane."

"Never thought I'd hear anyone say they were glad I did something bad. You really are a weird chick. I like that." Fingers trailed through the silky locks running down her back, feeling the curve of her spine through the fabric of her coat.

This is how he imagined things would be like if it wasn't for that one bad day. Sitting by their favorite spot, enjoying each other's company and talking about anything that came to mind. Everything happens for a reason, even if it's not a good one. Him and Sakura aren't regular people, so a normal relationship just isn'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..." That was something he worried about when he finally dumped that bus and had time to think. The thought was driving him mad, until he bolted up to find out. Nothing made sense at that point and through him through a loop. It was bad enough that he assumed she abandoned him, but then moved on to have a family after promising to give him one? The street of Gotham would have run red with blood that night.

The pinkette turned her head to stare at him, giving a hard look as she contemplated the scenarios that could've happened. "What would you do if I did?"

"Kill them." There wasn't a hint of a smile on his face when he said it. He stared her straight in the eyes when the words came out, expressing how serious he was being. The clown would've killed them all, except for her. That was the only person he couldn't bring himself to end, no matter what happened. Everyone else was free game. He would whisk the pinkette away and show her the error of her ways, then he could start trying to forgive once she learned her lesson. Sakura was the one person he would be patient with to teach properly, she always was a fast learner. "I'd grant you a divorce...permanently.

Smacking his chest, she clicked her tongue. "Permanently?... Hah. I just couldn't really imagine getting married or having kids. It wasn't something I've thought about in a very long time..." Her expression went from being wistful to appalled, when his words finally sunk in. "You're a twisted guy... You know that?"

"I might've heard that once or twice before. So, about dinner... I'll try not to throw anything, but can't guarantee it... If ya don't think it's a good idea-" Sitting up, Joker leaned forward to nuzzle her neck, his scars rubbing along her soft skin. "-then 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. It's so endearing how red face turns when she was flush with embarrassment.

Teasing her is always so much fun.


A knock on the door made Harley look up from the paperwork on her desk. Raising a 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. No one really bothered walking all the way across the building to her office. If she was needed, the staff would've called or paged her over the intercom.

"Come in?" Harley pushed her chair back, moving away from the desk when the door opened. Pressing her fingers together, her blue eyes narrowed on the person stepping in. She didn't recognize this man, he wasn't a member of staff. Every face that worked in this building was in her head, along with their name. Details were important in a place like this, where patients try taking advantage of the employees with every chance that presents itself.

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel? I want to apologize for showing up a bit...unannounced, but it's important that I speak with you this morning." The tall, dark-haired man walked into the room, closing the door behind him. He was Asian and young, slender, but with a hard expression. Not really the kind of guy she'd like to see this early in the day.

"Okay... Who are you? People aren't allowed to just show up here as they please. This is a mental health facility... How did you get through security without having an appointment or clearance?" Harley eyed him suspiciously, debating whether to just call the guards or not. The last thing she needed was to have a deranged relative of a patient or someone unstable to pop-up out of nowhere and try to pull anything.

"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." He invited himself to take a seat, carefully sitting down on an empty chair, along side her desk. She didn't even know why she bothered keeping a spare in here. It's not like anyone comes that matters. Usually, she just piles files on it when her desk is too full.

When his words finally registered, the doctor's eyes widened at him, feeling her heart skip a beat at the name that spilled from his lips. The Joker... Mr. J... Her puddin'... Every time an article about him in the paper or a segment on the news, her eyes became transfixed, even when it was long over.

It wasn't suppose to be this way. She was the clown's doctor, and he was her patient. It was her job to rehabilitate him, to help him lead a normal life and integrate back into society some day. As a psychiatric consultant at the time, the opportunity was exactly what Harley had been looking for to prove to her worth. Not only to herself, but also the superiors who looked down their noses at her due to her appearance and age. Those qualities don't make a great psychiatrist. She would show everyone that laughed and discriminated against her exactly what Harleen Quinzel is really made of.

Their sessions had started off slow, with the barefaced man barely talking. His walls were built up so high, it seemed like no one would be able to make any progress. The other doctors had already called it quits, becoming impatient and frustrated from making no real headway. When he decided to share anything or tell stories, they always ended up being creatively woven tales that contradicted each other.

Instead of throwing in the towel, like the everyone had, Harley saw this as a personal challenge. If she was going to help him and become the doctor she set out to be, giving up wasn't an option. Here was a man sitting in front of her, that desperately needed help, and no one wanted to go the extra mile for him. The guards thought they were slick with their unnecessary punishments and none of the staff would interfere with them abusing a patient. The clown never said a word, didn't grimace or show any indication that anything even happened, but Harley has a sharp eye. She could see the dark bruises poking out from different parts of his orange jumpsuit. After the first time, she quietly watched and waited, becoming completely disgusted by what was going on.

The guards were beating him whenever they thought no one was looking, taking their anger out on him for his crimes and everything else that was bothering them. Some of those men weren't effected by the clown's stunts and just hated him for who he is, calling him a 'freak' who deserved all the suffering being inflicted on him. Laughing and jeering at his captivity and inability to stop them, poking fun at the unfortunate disfigurement around his mouth.

Different times, they refused to take him to the dining hall, leaving him to starve throughout the night or bringing him something unfit for human consumption. The Joker seemed to take it in stride, cackling and making jokes, infuriating the men even further, which resulted in more atrocities. Harleen couldn't standby and watch, she gathered evidence and went straight to Dr. Arkham.

Things became a little better after that, but nowhere near perfect or up to her standards. The clown never had any visitors or family come to see him, to make sure that he was okay. It almost seemed like the world didn't care what happened to him, silently or vocally wishing him to suffer and die. To disappear from the Earth and leave it in peace. Watching this caused Harleen so much pain, but she had to constantly remind herself who this man really is. While he was be a criminal, no one starts out that way. It's a progression that begins somewhere. Maybe if she could find that point, he could be saved from a life of constant misery. That's all that awaited him on the path he's walking down.

A lonely, dark path with no one to light the way back.

That was the reason people turned out this way. They're shoved into a hospital without anyone willing to put in the time or effort into helping them and are long-forgotten. This is exactly why Gotham has become so hopeless. No one tries to really look at another human being and put themselves in their shoes. They don't care, not really. If there's money to be made, they'll slap on their best mask and pretend for the sake of a payout at the end. No wonder the clown never opened up or revealed himself. He understood the true nature of people and was protecting himself, all while laughing at their ignorance.

Harleen would have to show him that she's not like everyone else. If they could find a common ground, then perhaps he'd allow her to scale even a fraction of that sturdy wall. Going about this by using standard procedure wouldn't work, that's already shown not to work. A lot of the other doctors had far more experience and tried, only to failed over and over again.

Despite her reservations, she couldn't help feeling sympathy for the Joker. Seeing those jagged scars on his face, it was painfully clear this man went through and survived some horrible ordeal. After studying them from across the table for many hours, the blonde was able to figure out they weren't self-inflicted. The harsh strokes of a blade along the corners of his mouth and bottom lip screamed of hatred. The perpetrator had done it with the intention of making him suffer. It was cruel. During her research to find anything that could help with their sessions, she'd saw images of Glasgow victims and read how the gangs would cut open their victim's mouth to send a message or for payback. In some rare instances around Boston, the mob used this tactic to spread fear and tried to make it their calling card. Some of the wounds she saw weren't as horrible as the ones on his face. If it done over money or business, they wouldn't look this way. The attack must have been personal, only increasing her curiosity.

After many weeks of having sessions, he slowly started opening up a little at a time. Whether it was all lies or manic ramblings, it didn't matter to Harleen. This man was intriguing, far more than any other patient she's encountered up to that point. His views on the world were very different, questioning everything around him. She found herself taking part in these conversations more each time, trying to ingest anything he had to say. After keeping her at a distance with his lies and morbid jokes, it was a welcome reprieve.

The Joker was far more intelligent than the other doctors gave him credit for. They thought of him as nothing more than a raving lunatic, who just wanted to see the world burn. She knew better, he was misunderstood. While they saw a psychotic murderer in clown makeup, she could see something very different. 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. He was taking up any extra space in her head and free time. After a while, the sessions started becoming 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, yet 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 when she saw a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I put it there." That smug look... It was always there no matter what was going on. Nothing infuriated and intrigued her more. He always always so sly and cunning, able to maneuver around freely, despite being detained. No one could figure out how he keeps doing it, but he does.

"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 interesting... He had absolutely no regards for 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... He really knows how to get under a person's skin. The way he was able to understand someone's intentions, long before they even could, was on an entirely different 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 again, without alerting a single guard? Why did he take the risk just to put a note and 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 staff told her to be careful and not listen to him, but she didn't take their warnings too seriously. Now she couldn't stop, even if she wanted to.

None of the men Harleen dated were even worth remembering. Always so dull, with only one thing on their minds. They never really paying attention or taking her seriously, just wanting to buy dinner and go back to their place. Mista 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, 'cause you think you have to... That's what you've been told to do. Following the system blindly and denying yourself all 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. She could see that wheels in his head turning, but never knew which direction they going towards.

"Do what you want, Doc. Cut the strings tying you down to the puppeteers hands. I saw it in your eyes during our first session. Something inside you wants to break out... 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 looking into her soul, saying the things she would never dare to even utter out loud...

...

"Doctor Quinzel?..." The dark-haired man leaned forward in his chair, trying to get her attention. She was in a daze, going back to a time that actually meant something to her. One than others could never understand.

"...Oh. Yes... The Joker..." What did this man want with her puddin'? What could he want to know that wasn't already common knowledge by this point? Harley didn't like this, not one bit. Already, she could feel the negative emotions building up inside of her towards this person. If he's with the D.A.'s office, then that could only mean one thing. They were looking for anything that could help them in their search for the clown. They wanted her to turn on Mista J.

"The District Attorney and I would appreciate your assistance, Doctor. Anything you can tell us would be helpful. You were his psychiatrist, the only one who lasted for more than a few weeks. If anyone would have information or some insight, we assumed it would be you. Any records, transcripts, CCTV footage... We'd like you to hand them over if possible, so that we can learn something about this maniac." Harley raised a brow at the man staring intently at her. What did they want? They wanted her to sell out Mista J? Over her dead body.

"I'm sorry, Mr...Choi, but there's a little thing called patient confidentiality. I'm not going to just 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, so 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.

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 to the ground, while you sit here trying to protect a criminal. Is that what you want? To have more blood on your hands while 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 the patients in need. To them, it was always 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."

"Okay then, Doctor. What do you call 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 while he's on the loose? How many families have to sit by, while losing their loved ones?!" The vein by his temple throbbed as his voice grew louder with every passing moment. It was clear from Harley's experience that this isn't just about helping others, it was more personal. The way he talked, the words he chose and tone, his body language... It all screamed out to the psychiatrist in her.

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

Hyeon froze, staring at the doctor sitting behind her desk. Harley inwardly smiled, knowing she hit the nail right on the head. She didn't have to know the details to understand that something transpired. This wasn't about some form of self-righteous justice, it's for revenge. Mista J had effected this person in some way and now he wanted to get back at him.

"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, next time with a warrant. 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 situated the front of his suit, seething just beneath the surface.

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

Sighing, Harley couldn't help worrying when 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 to come see her of all people... What did they really hope to learn, when even the doctors at Arkham had very little to work with?

Running a hand through her blonde hair, she stuck the end of her pen between her lips, chewing on the plastic. 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 Mista J and if he was going to be okay. Nothing was going to happen to him... Right?

'What if he's in over his head this time?... No, he's a genius. I'm sure he already knows about 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?'

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she 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. Swiping the pile of papers off the edge and into the trash can, everything was suddenly clear.

"Do what you want, Doc. Cut the strings tying you down to the puppeteers hands."

If they were going to be together, Harley needed to show him that she was serious. Even if it meant going 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 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 open window was too bright, agitating the dark eyes staring at the wall. Chewing on the corded scar tissue on the inside of his cheek, Joker grunted and curled his lip up in annoyance. Sitting up on the bed, he reached up to yank the curtains 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. Her limbs sprawled out in different directions, taking up most of the space on the small mattress. She was peacefully out of it, wearing only a large t-shirt. That was going to change soon. They would have a much larger bed waiting for them and he wouldn't let her wear anything. Leaning up against the headboard, he watched the little breaths coming from between her pink lips while she slumbered.

Joker doesn't know how she does it. To sleep so deeply without a care in the world... Then again, if he had someone like him there to make sure nothing happened, maybe he could too. Scratch that... He didn't want anyone like himself watching him sleep. That was an unsettling thought. Sakura just made it look so easy. Curling up next to him, wrapped in a sheet and closing her eyes. She was usually knocked out within the first five minutes. Maybe he just wasn't used to this kind of life. One where someone wasn't trying to put a knife in his back or steal from him. He always had to be on the alert for his own sake, now he was doing it for hers too. Paranoia's gotten him this far, but that wasn't going to be cut short. It wasn't like he didn't want to join her, he just couldn't. He was content with watching her for the last few hours, that was enough for him.

They didn't get back to the apartment until 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 together, undisturbed. To his satisfaction, the pinkette didn't like his disguise either. The first moment after they walked through the door, she yanked the latex right off his face. A chuckle left his ruined lips just thinking about it.

This peaceful time was about to end... For now, he'll let himself enjoy it, before it disappears. There's a press conference tomorrow that good ol' Dent announced the other day. The press, police force, anyone who 'matters' in this city will be there. The D.A. set it up to publicly discuss the recent events and supposedly, the Batman will reveal his true identity and turn himself in. It wasn't going to be that simple, it never is. Why would Batsy give in after all this time? There have been plenty of criminals that went to extreme lengths to obtain that information and only ended up with a special spot in Arkham or Blackgate.

There's more to this than meets the eye. They're trying to pull something, whether from Dent's end or the Bat's. Joker could just feel it... Do these fools really think they could end his fun with such an anticlimactic ending?

No. No. No.

It wasn't going to end this way. Part of the fun of messing with the Bat was not knowing who he really is. Initially, he suspected that it might've been Dent under the mask, but those thoughts were quickly discarded. Dent's a schemer, sure... There's no doubt about that, but him being the Bat? No. The clown could see the differences in their physique and eyes. Unless Dent's taken to wearing dark contact lenses, but even then, there's a subtle distinction between the two men. While there's quite a few similarities, the Joker was fairly confident from fighting and taunting the Bat for so long, that he can tell them apart.

It was enjoyable watching them all squirm, trying to get in the way of his plans. If the authorities thought he'd suddenly stop if someone revealed themselves as the Bat, then they were sadly mistaken. He just wanted to see how far he could push them, what kind of desperate acts they would try pull. Anyone can stand up there tomorrow and claim they were Batsy and the entire city would probably fall for it, but not the Joker. Nope. He was fairly certain this was a ploy to get him to let his guard down and draw him out of hiding.

Morons. If anything, they were playing straight into his hands.

Dent wasn't going to pull the curtain on his little show. No one gets in the way of his fun, not with Gotham and especially not the Bat. What would the clown do without the flying rat? Go back to ripping off mob dealers? Screw that. Nothing in this city gave him an adrenaline rush like the little game they were playing. There isn't anyone left who was up to the challenge, mentally or physically. Not the mob, not the police, and certainly not the D.A.

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

Joker symbolized anarchy and chaos... Batman stood for righteousness 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 does. It's almost hilarious how alike they are, without Gotham's 'Dark Knight' even realizing it. They were on the same level, just opposite sides of the coin. The Bat might be physically stronger, but he was smarter, evening out the odds. Their fights usually ended with them both being hurt, but still standing.

It was a thrilling game of cat and mouse. They were always switching places, one chasing down the other and vice versa. The Bat was so rigid with his own set of rules. That only made it even more fun to push him beyond his limits, to see which ones he'd break or refuse to budge on. The greatest challenge yet... 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 the prospect of it threw him into a fit of laughter. The Bat always had to improvise when they ran into each other. He wasn't used to dealing with someone who did any violent and random act that came to mind. Times were changing. The days of maneuvering around the mafia and basic street thugs are over. Those mob fools always pull the same old shit and it's made Batsy too comfortable and confident in handling the underground. He doesn't know what really lurks in the shadows. It wasn't until men, like Scarecrow and himself appeared, that he really had to start flexing those muscles in his head, instead of his biceps, if he wanted to prevent tragedies from happening around his precious city.

The woman next to him stirred, his raucous laughter breaking through the thin veil of sleep. A groan left her pink lips as she shifted under the sheets in agitation, trying to block out the loud noise piercing her ears. Sakura languidly straightened her slender legs out to stretch them, moving her feet around to find a new comfortable position.

"Hmm..." Dark eyes watched the pinkette's slow movements, still not fully awake and curling in on herself. Staring at the wall and musing about the flying rat already lost its appeal. Despite finding contentment from watching Sakura sleep, he wanted her company. There wasn't much time left to enjoy these peaceful moments and she can always rest later. No one knows what might happen to him tomorrow, but she'll be safe. He already has plans in place should something go wrong.

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

Joker always gets what he wants, even if it might take a little longer than he'd like...

His lip curled up in a sneer at the idea as he sat up, moving closer to the small woman trying to fall back asleep. This was his greatest distraction...and the one thing he desired most from this shit-filled world. Hovering over the pinkette, he leaned in to bury his nose in her silky hair, breathing in her sweet scent. Sakura always smelled so good, it sent goosebumps trailing down the arms holding himself up.

Swallowing hard, he let out a shuddered breath, shifting lower to run his scarred mouth over the pale column of her neck. It was almost too tempting to bite down hard and see how she'd react. That would wake her ass up real quick, but he didn't want to start the last day off with her trying to beat him to death.

No... Today, he'll play nice. If everything works out, there'll be plenty of times for games later.

Unlike how him and Batman were two sides of the same coin, they were opposites. Sakura was bright and soft in comparison to his dark and violent ways. Down to their hair, skin, height, and even manner of speech, everything is different. Perhaps that's what made this entire relationship all more attractive to him. People usually find themselves yearning for something that isn't similar to them. His hands are always covered in blood, hers were completely untainted...and he'll try to keep it that way.

The women of the streets were often 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 allowed him to cover her in his filth, but it always washed away. He couldn't stain her, even though he knew it was possible. She was perfectly fine the way she is, there's no need to ruin that. Once someone crosses that line, there's no going back, only forward.

Kissing down her neck, he watched the pinkette's eyes flutter open, relieved that she was finally waking up. A smug look spread across his face, watching her brows furrow while trying to fight off the haze pulling her back under. She was tired and didn't get much sleep because of him again. It's only been a few hours since she curled up next to him, but that was just too bad. Joker wanted her attention now and he's going to get it.

Running a large hand up her body, he slithered down her abdomen, kissing her through the thin fabric of her tee-shirt. If he did end up getting a good night's rest, he wouldn't mind waking up with her doing this to him. A groan left his lips watching as her back instinctively arched off the bed. Almost like her body knew what he wanted, even in the throws of sleep.

Sakura ran a hand over her face, blinking hard and looking around in confusion.

"J-Jack? What are you doing?!"