AN: This chapter is shorter than the last, but I came to a good stopping point so we're going with it. Please review and let me know what you think! Also, thank you to Frankie Winchester for being such a loyal fan! Honestly I bet you're the last one left haha but I'm so glad to see you back and enjoying my stories.

The moving blue and red lights hurt my eyes. I can't even see the face of the person I'm speaking with. Partially due to blinding brightness cutting through the night and the fact that I'm staring right past them. I see a stretcher. On it, a black bag zipped closed at the top. I know what's in the bag. I watch as it's loaded up in the ambulance. The sirens don't turn on.

"Ma'am?"

I look to the silhouette of the officer in front of me.

"I have just a few more questions, if you can answer them for me." he or she said gently. I answered the questions. I don't remember what they were. As I spoke the only focus was on my hands. I could still feel his slightly warm, rapidly cooling hand. It was a hand I hadn't held in so long. I can't picture him smiling. It's been rare since Mom died, anyway. I didn't help with that growing up, rebelling at every turn. Why did I put so much stress on him? Maybe if I had been a good kid, maybe if I visited, maybe if I called, maybe if I just gave him a hug once in a while. Now I'd give anything to have his warm embrace like when I was little.

xxx

I shake my head hard. The world spins around me. I feel my eyes burning with tears. I rub my face and attempt to wipe away the feelings quickly bubbling to the surface. I'm not doing this tonight. Even if the Joker wasn't here, I don't have the breakdowns in front of anyone. I don't trust like that. There's only one thing I know of that keeps all this heartache pushed away, at least for a little while. I take a deep breath through my nose and rise shakily to my feet. The Joker watches me.

"You're not actually getting another drink there, doll, are you?' he grins, but his brow is furrowed.

"Uh, yeah." I say rolling my eyes and begin my drunken stumble to the kitchen. Before I can make it a couple steps, I feel a grip close on my wrist. I whip around angrily, nearly losing my balance. I glare into his scarred face.

"What are you doing?" I ask, glaring.

"I think you're done." He replies. He seems a little confused about what he's saying. I attempt to pull my arm free.

"Who the hell are you to tell me when I'm done?" I'm mad. I'm furious. "I need another drink. I need one or else I'll…or else it's just…" I trail off. Or else I'll cry. Or else it's just too much. I can't make myself speak out loud. The Joker doesn't budge. I pull again as a lump rises in my throat. No no no no. My vision blurs, not from my drunkenness this time. I feel my body begin to shake as sobs threaten to take over. I see the Joker's face is unreadable. I drop my eyes and, against my will, I drop to the floor, his grip dropping with me. I'm sitting on my knees, my hands clamped tightly over my mother's pendant. I feel the tears burning paths down my cheeks. Every blink sends another to slide down and drop onto my closed hands. My vision is spinning and I feel sick with grief. I clutch my necklace tighter, the metal digging into my palms as my eyes attempt to focus on the carpet.

I feel warmth on my cheek that's different from the tears. It feels like sunlight gently heating my skin on a warm summer day. I involuntarily lean into it. I raise my eyes to the source of comfort. I see a man, the Joker, but just a man right now. His face is contorted with sympathy. There's no way I'm seeing that right. I looked him in the eyes. I can see the concern, as if he truly cares for me. Still crying, I whisper.

"Please kill me." I gently place my hand on the hand that cups my cheek. I feel it stiffen, his expression changes slightly in an almost familiar way; as if he feels the pain I'm feeling. Before I can say anything else I am forcefully pulled into his chest. I freeze as his body heat seeps through his shirt, as his strong arms tighten around my body. I feel small as I'm taken into the embrace. I feel his shirt dampen under my cheek. Without much thought, I relax into the warm, safe space.

xxx

I'm warm. Everything is okay right now. For the first time in a long time, I don't feel alone.

I open my eyes. I see the bare white walls of my bedroom and feel the thick blanket wrapped around me. As I sit up I realize I have a throbbing headache. I groan and place my palm on my temple. I slide out of bed into the cool, air conditioned room. I stumble to the bathroom and take an aspirin. I look in the mirror above my sink. My eyes are red and swollen and as I stare at my rough reflection, I notice my eyes burn. I cried. Apparently a lot. The night begins to come back in bits and pieces.

The Joker was here. His kindness, his embrace. My face grows hot. I mean, the kiss was one thing, but there was a whole new intimacy with what happened last night. He must have left after I passed out. I wonder if he tucked me in or if I managed to stumble to my bed alone. As I recall the evening, my brain begins to allow my loss to seep back into my memories. Oh, Dad… And I already want another drink. The thought stirs nausea in my stomach. I take a deep breath and brush my teeth. I'm getting a job today. I need a distraction. This last encounter with Him "didn't count". Part of me wants to go out to see if it really is fate. I chuckle. As if.

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