(A/N: I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for the favourites, follows, and reviews! They mean a lot to me and makes writing this that much more worthwhile.)

He took a step forward, casting his face in the light of the single small lamp I had forgotten to switch off this morning. My stomach dropped and my head spun.

The Joker.

He stood watching me, silently, from my kitchen doorway. I felt like I was going to be sick, right there on my thrift store sofa. His face was fully painted, just like in the video, only somehow more horrifying in person. The light from the lamp cast deep shadows on his face, intensifying the dark pits that were his eyes and distorting his already gnarled and twisted scars. He took another slow but methodical step forward and my body finally reacted with an intuitive counter-movement backwards. Unfortunately for me, that meant stumbling over the coffee table and crashing awkwardly to the ground. I panicked as I scrambled to my feet, tripping over myself. It was like one of those bad dreams where you're moving in slow motion as a monster approaches. Everything was so surreal.

Looking over my shoulder, I stalled-noticing he hadn't come any closer. He still stood at the threshold of the kitchen watching me, his head cocked to the side in curiosity and an expression of mild amusement plastered on his ghostly face. My stomach flip-flopped anxiously and I glanced from him to the door. He seemed to be equally distant from the door as I was, probably a bit farther, I guessed.

When I made eye contact with him again, I could see something in his face had changed. I could've sworn, somehow with a look, that he was daring me. Daring me to make a run for it. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. I quickly tried to measure his trajectory again. He had to turn around a corner, I had a straight shot…Maybe I could beat him. I mean, I wasn't a track star but I wasn't slow either. Either way, I didn't feel like waiting around for him to tell me what he was doing in my apartment. I took a test step forward and I watched as he seemed to tense, like all the muscles in his body were winding up. I likened it to the final crank of the handle on a jack in the box, to the moment before he explodes out and scares the shit out of you. In that instant, I was the frightened little girl who hesitates on the final crank, who squints her eyes in anticipation and tries to suppress the inevitable scream that rises in her throat.

And then suddenly I was running. I don't think it had even registered in my mind before it had registered in my body. I could see him explode out of the gate in my peripherals, a purple blur, but I kept going. I committed. The 20-meter distance felt like a marathon, but I couldn't stop my momentum quickly enough before I slammed into the door full force. My hands fumbled with the lock and doorknob but my palms felt drenched with sweat and my hands slid clumsily over the metal fittings. Likely not even an entire second passed before I felt his claws dig into the tender meat of my shoulders and yank me back, sending me tumbling to the floor. My left elbow smacked painfully off of the entrance's cheap tile floor. I cried out and grabbed it, the impact sending painful tingles up and down my entire arm. I reluctantly looked up at him in defeat, tears threatening. He positioned himself between the door and myself. He was daunting, dark and menacing. I felt hopeless.

Neither of us spoke and a heavy silence filled the apartment. The only sound I heard was the pounding of my own heart in my ears and the soft cries I tried and failed to suppress. He watched me for a moment longer before turning his attention to his jacket, readjusting himself.

"Get up."

I didn't move. My gaze wandered away from him and down to my lap, my hands shook uncontrollably and I tried to hide it.

"Hey." My head shot back up in his direction. "Are ya deaf? Get. Up.'"

The tone of his voice was serious and stern and reminiscent of the video.

The video…

I had nearly forgotten why this all started. Images of the imitation Batman flashed through my mind. I felt sick. I felt angry. But most importantly, I felt fear, so I did what he said and I unsteadily got to my feet.

He approached me as I stood, his eyes fixated on me like I was a new toy. I had no idea. I watched his purple-gloved hand reach toward me and I felt the cool leather slide around my throat. I reached instinctively up and grabbed his wrist. His eyes narrowed in on my touch. He wasn't choking me, but I wasn't comfortable, if you can imagine. He again cocked his head and his eyes met mine for the nth time.

"Are you gonna try that again, Andy?"

My stomach burned when he spoke my name again, the first time since I knew his real identity.

I shook my head feverishly. I wasn't lying. I had no will to try again…at least not so soon.

"Good girl," he breathed into my face. His breath was not completely rancid, but not necessarily pleasant—a mixture of something like coffee and smoke.

His grip on my throat loosened and fell away as he crossed his arms over his chest. He leaned back, regarding me like some abstract painting.

"So, did ya miss me?"

A scoff of incredulity literally fell out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I winced as I waited for his reaction but none came. In fact his face didn't even change, yet his expression was not of displeasure. Truthfully, he didn't even seem that upset that I had made a run for it. In fact, judging by his mood now, I think he may have liked it.

"Why are you here?" I found my voice and ignored his question.

"Aw, Doll. I thought we were friends? You did me a real big favour, after all." He tilted his head down, winking at me in the process.

My skin crawled.

He uncrossed his arms and moved toward me again. I stepped backwards right into the kitchen table behind me.

"I just wanted to check up on ya, see how you were doin'…" He paused deliberately for effect. "See If I scared you too much." He took another step closer, closing in the already small gap between us. My eyes zeroed in on his scars, mere inches from my face. I couldn't focus on anything else.

He grabbed my jaw painfully in his hand and turned my face from side to side, inspecting me while breaking my attention on his scars.

"You seem alright. Your eyes are a little red though, girly. Ya been cryin'?"

"No." I spat, suddenly angry and defensive.

"Hm, well that's too bad. But good on ya, doll. You're a tough one, huh? Keeping that chin up." He pushed his finger under my chin as he said it, forcing my head up. My mind was racing. I couldn't process everything that was happening.

"Anyway," He moved his hand away from me and up to brush his hair back out of his face. "I kinda thought I owed ya a personal thank you. Ya know, for all the help." I felt nauseated at the thought of helping him, especially after seeing what I saw on that video. "You really did exactly what I asked…You got me just the attention I wanted. Now Gotham has a face to a name, and I'm a star, sweetheart." He grinned devilishly and flexed his long, gloved fingers in excitement.

"But," he paused and leaned in, my back pressed painfully against the table. "Lets keep this little, uh, meeting? Let's keep it between us." I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded aggressively. He smiled and I marveled as the scars seemed to ripple and twist in protest.

"Andy, I think you're a smart girl…" He paused dramatically, adding, "of course ignoring that little slip-up…"

My face burned embarrassedly and I felt a bullet of sweat trickle down from my forehead, yet I couldn't look away. He was so close and I felt so vulnerable and uncomfortable leaning back against the table. His arms, pinned down against the table on either side of me, trapped me like prison bars.

"But I want you to prove it".