For timeline purposes, let's say this takes place in an alternate universe where the events of TDK happened, but this entire premise is also able to happen.

Chapter 3
Hitch-hiker

"Stop. Fucking. Smoking." Bruce woke up about two minutes prior, inhaling a lungful of what felt like two parts tobacco and one part air. Bruce was still out of it, his eyes glazed over with a sleepy daze from the drug; his head was spinning and he was rapidly on his way to a headache. The Joker must have gone through half of his pack by now with all of the particles floating through the car.

Bruce wonders briefly if the Joker can live without oxygen, because holy shit.

The Joker puffs out a breath he had been holding, gray smoke still escaping as he speaks, the tone calm and passive. "You're not exactly in a position to be making demands, Bruce." He taps the ashes away with both hands on the wheel.

"Roll down the window at least, I can't breathe. Fucking Christ."

"Lovely mental image." The Joker takes another drag of his cigarette.

If it were physically possible, smoke would probably be coming out of Bruce's ears by now. As if there needed to be any more smoke.

When the Joker decides to speak up again, it's hard for Bruce to keep up. "So I wanted to ask you something, man to man. If you're trying to run a... ethically... correct, business," he starts, careful in his phrasing. "Why wouldn't you do a background check on your Chinese business investors before accepting their money?"

Bruce struggles to reach back into his memory of their conversation when he was first abducted, about Wayne Enterprises and how the Joker accused it of being corrupt simply because of what it is. He struggles to remember the particulars about that deal he and Lucius had cut off as soon as they caught a whiff of Mao's rot. It was unfortunately leaked all over the internet a few months afterwards, which had to be how the Joker found out. "We rectified the situation as soon as we found out. He had Chinese legislation to hide behind."

"With a name like Mao, it really should'a tipped you off."

"If we're talking totalitarian dictators..."

The Joker gives him a smile that he can't quite place. "You know, I like you. I didn't expect Bruce Wayne to come with a sense of humor, I just thought you'd sleep a lot."

"You did knock me out for two hours."

The Joker snorts. They lapse into silence for a minute or two.

"I'm serious, though, roll down the window," Bruce says with enough conviction to make the Joker smirk.

"But you're always serious." He blinks rapidly as he switches glances from the road to his captive, cigarette now hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"You're never serious."

"And I have the scars to prove it." From the corner of his eye Bruce can see the Joker shrug his shoulders. Bruce wonders from time to time how he had really gotten those scars, the true story behind them, but ponders very shortly on the thought of asking. The end results are not worth it, just like the way this conversation is headed.

"Please roll down the window."

"Now we resort to begging. And here I was, thinking you were above such a thing-" The car jerks to the side as the clown's attention is stolen elsewhere - namely, to the side of the road. "Hey look over there, a hitch-hiker." He points to a lone figure a little ways further up the road, near a sign stating that they're ten miles from New Jersey.

Bruce doesn't think the trip is worth it anymore, not after getting drugged with the threat of it happening again, and now this. He could've figured out Jonathan Crane's location on his own terms, instead of relying on the whims of a madman.

The Joker seems giddy about the mere prospect of picking this guy up off the highway. "We're not picking him up, you can't be serious." Bruce is helpless to watch as they slow down along the side of the road.

"I'm always serious." Bruce never had a greater urge than in this very instant to reach out and slam the Joker's head against a brick wall. Repeatedly.

The car stops short. If it weren't for the restraints Bruce would have probably crashed right through the windshield. With his head still swimming, he examines the guy: tattered shirt, dirty sweatpants, stubble, and - unsurprisingly - the bloodshot eyes of a druggie. The Joker can't possibly think that this is still a good idea.

As soon as he rolls down the window, however, Bruce can't decide if he's thankful or spiteful. Sure, the smoke's being cleared out but now the Joker gets a chance to socialize, which should really be the dictionary term for 'a bad idea'.

The Joker waves the guy over, who is understandably cautious in approaching the car. "C'mere, man," he calls out, extending a purple-gloved hand to persuade him further. As soon as he's close enough, the Joker asks, "What's your name?"

"Uh." The guy lets out a weird throaty noise, "Greg."

"Well, Greg, where you headed?" He casually rests an arm on the car door, watching as the hitch-hiker rubs at the back of his neck, eyes darting like a cornered animal. He catches a glimpse of Bruce tied in the passenger seat.

Now he's retreating a bit from the car, making hand-gestures with each step. "Nah, it's all right man, I can get there myself." He waves off the Joker's offer and begins walking ahead. Unfortunately the Joker isn't the type of guy to take 'no' for an answer.

Bruce shoots him a look, watching as he creeps the car forward and licks his lips. "Oh, I insist. Where are you headed, Greg?" The Joker's voice has taken on a deadly calm edge to it and Bruce knows that it means nothing good is about to come from this. As if to verify the statement, he pulls out a gun.

Fear registers instantly in the man's eyes. "Shit! Virginia!" Greg is visibly shaking along with his voice. "Virginia." He swallows hard. "I'm headed to Virginia."

Pleased, the Joker gives the man a winning smile. "Much better." He jabs a finger to Bruce. "Now I won't tie 'ya up like Rich Bitch over here, only if you take that gun out of your pocket and hand it over."

Bruce stares warily at Greg from the rear view mirror. He's twitching, a hand balled up firmly at his side, eyebrows knit together in worry. He has seated himself near the window on the driver's side, as far away from the Joker as he could get.

The Joker barks at him to put on a seat belt and smirks contently to himself when the man jumps like a cat near water, hurrying to comply with the order.

They had already passed the 'Welcome to New Jersey' sign when the Joker finally speaks up.

"So, Virginia? I got a story to tell about that place." Bruce shifts his wary gaze to him. "I met a guy a while ago, back in Gotham city. He said he had family down there in Virginia and came to the big city to make a couple extra bucks. He came to me for work and would send a certain percentage of the pay down to his family every month or so," he explains, sparing a quick look back to realize that Greg's already growing bored with the tale.

"To make a, uh, long story short, he screwed up. Before I could do anything about it, he slipped his way back to Virginia and I never heard from him again. I did, however, manage to intercept one of the letters he sent down before he left... and I got his address."

Bruce's stomach does flips at those last couple of words, he wouldn't be telling this story just for the hell of it.

Why did that story sound a bit similar to Jonathan Crane's situation? He figures that the clown's not telling the entire truth, if the truth at all, about this mystery man from Virginia.

The Joker catches Greg's anxious stare, seemingly trying to use telepathy to communicate his latest scheme.

Then Bruce cuts in, suddenly fired with anger and skepticism, "You talk like you're used to it."

He merely shrugs his shoulders. "I'm a man of many burnt bridges."