IV

Selina owed the success of her escape to a momentary mistake on the part of the police. It was stupid. She had noticed that one of the officers had failed to lock the holster strap around his gun, making it perfectly assessable to her dainty thief-fingers. Armed with the gun, she only needed to yell out a few orders and fire a warning shot into the floor and they let her walk out of the precinct. Once she was on the street again, the chase was back on, but she could play hide n' go seek in a way that rivaled The Batman himself. She wished he would turn up and save her the trip to Gordon's house. She had very surreptitiously lifted a wedding announcement from his desk before she left. The Commissioner's home address was printed on the back. "Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Lane," she glanced at the cute couple on the card and stuffed in into her suit as she skirted through the city. It was risky—now that she was out of the law's cage, the smart thing to do would be to skip town, fast. Selina Kyle was exposed now; a disgraced jewel-thief. A sicko, like the others, in a Halloween costume.

But she couldn't leave Gotham. Not yet at least, and probably not at all. This city had a way of creeping inside of you, while your mind crafted nightmares to her urban lullaby. Maybe it was a chemical thing. Maybe that's why so many strange folks had found their way to Gotham. It was a beacon for freaks. Freaks like The Joker, and Selina and the Bat.

She had to tell him… more than that, she had to have one more go. He knew who she was. As of that morning, everyone knew that Selina Kyle was Catwoman. Batman's identity remained a secret, but Selina felt perfectly justified in her belief that she deserved to know who was under that cowl. It was fair. Not even fair; reasonable. Because of him, the whole world knew her face. She didn't want that for him. She just wanted to know. She could keep the secret. But she had to know. And if anyone in Gotham knew who Batman was, Selina was willing to bet that Commissioner Gordon did.

The blood had all washed into the bathtub, turning the water a sick pinkish brown haze. Gordon's face was clean and white, dripping wet, his lips had gone grey while his eyes were turning pink with broken blood vessels around his irises.

"Any change?" The Joker inquired, as if he was waiting on a calculation from a machine, and Gordon was just the engineer.

The Commissioner said nothing. He was a strong man. It was sometimes hard to notice when he was compared with his company; the younger, fitter officers around him or the nearly supernatural strength of The Batman. He wasn't going to break—but it seemed that it might take a while for The Joker to figure that out.

The Joker twisted his fingers into Gordon's hair and plunged his head under the freezing water once more, holding him under so that his ears were out of the water—able to hear, but not see or breathe the air around him.

"Are you thinkin' about time yet, puddin'?"

He ignored her, and kept his concentration on his victim.

"This could take days, which we ain't got. They'll be looking for him. For all of them."

"You know, Harl? Maybe, the Commissioner and I would like some privacy, after all."

"But you-"

"-SHUT THE DOOR!"

Harley obeyed with a little start, glancing at the children, still cowering in the hallway beside her.

As the door shut, The Joker pulled Gordon out of the bath. The water poured off of him as he gasped and sputtered, his voice was starting to wear down. It was burning from the strain of the last half-hour of torture. He was dizzy and the cold was making him slip into this kind of heady numbness.

"Tell me who he is. Where could I find him?" He asked, with the air of a student searching for a rare text. He pulled a towel from the rack and began to spot-dry Gordon's face, neck and the top-half of his suit. "I understand. About honor and all of that, really, I do… but, you've got to make an important decision tonight. About loyalty. For me, it's easy! I just don't have any. But you are a little more complicated than that—I see it now. At first, I thought you were cut from the same circus-tent as us other freaks—but uh… no. You're almost like a real person. Not the real, real. But the real of fiction… You actually do have this attachment to this image of yourself as a good person. You're so closely tied to it that you are—this person. Isn't that interesting?"

"I don't know who he is. He's never told me," Gordon breathed deep feeling light-headed. The chill in his head was weighing him down—making him fuzzy with deadness and pain.

The Joker slapped Gordon lightly a couple of times on each cheek, "Wait," he let out a sharp bark-like grunt from the back of his throat, "Wait. Wait. Stay with me, Jim—it doesn't surprise me that Batman wouldn't personally reveal his identity to you. He's paranoid. That's his main driving force, you realise—paranoia… overwhelming and uncontrollable. It runs through his blood like chaos runs through mine… no, he's not uh… going to tell you. But Gordon… still with me?" he gave him another light slap, "Wakey, wakey. I'm a snakey—Gordon!"

The Commissioner forced his eyes open and glared up at The Joker, "I'm listening."

"You're a smart guy. Too smart for me to leave you alone. I think that you, through your superior detective skills and resources could figure out who Batman is, in a couple of days of good hard research—and you've got an edge over the rest of us. Do you wanna know what that is?"

He hesitated, as if Gordon was supposed to answer.

"The Batman trusts you. That makes him vulnerable… to you. In the last two years, you two have schemed together, talked and worked to save this city from the beautiful, inevitable jaws of insanity and I say that in that time, there is an impressive chance that you have gathered hints and mulled it over in your head, so… in the last two years of marinating in your skull… who do you think he is? Because, I think that you're correct."

"I don't know."

The Joker released a long overdramatic sigh and reached into his jacket to reveal a pistol. He aimed the barrel down towards Gordon's head. "Bang," whispered The Joker.

He pulled the trigger. The Commissioner flinched, but the gun only clicked; empty and a thin metal rod shot out, dropping a brightly coloured flag.

RAT!

TAT!

TAT!

The Joker doubled over wheezing and laughing, "Hohohooho. Oh. heheheheehee. Hahah. Hah. Heh. I'm not going to kill you with this! It's empty," he tossed the gun into the bloody bathwater, "I don't like to use guns if I can get away with something more personal."

"I've heard that…"

"I haven't even taken a blade to you yet." No sooner had he finished this thought then he twirled his wrist and was suddenly holding his knife again. "The plan, Gordon, is for you to die. Preferably after you've told me about the man under the cowl, but I'm not one to stick to plans. I'll just see where this road goes… outside of this bathroom, I'm thinking. Back to your kids."

It had been filling his mind all evening, but now Gordon felt the dread of his children's fate in this psychopath's hands like he had just swallowed it whole. He started shaking his head, demanding of himself anything he had to use against The Joker.

"You haven't begged yet. I don't need it or anything—but I was just noticing that you haven't. I guess you know it won't make a difference to a monster like me."

"Please. Don't hurt my children."

The Joker stood up and opened the door. He froze when he saw them in the hallway.

Catwoman was holding Harley's own gun against her head. The kids were no where in sight; run to get help.

"She snuck up on me, Mistah J!" Harley squealed. The height difference between the two of them seemed more significant now, with the dark shadow looming up behind the blonde in the pink dress.

The Joker blinked, "Huh."

"Let Gordon go, and I'll let her go," Catwoman said firmly.

"You should shoot her," said The Joker.

Harley squealed as Catwoman's hold tightened.

Gordon took what could turn out to be his only chance and leapt to his feet, letting his fist fly into the back of The Joker's head. The freak went down hard on his knees, with Gordon scrambling to get to his fallen knife.

Simultaneously, Harley also fell forward to her knees—she was calling the Cat's bluff and used an old trick; falling into a forward summersault and throwing Catwoman into the wall.

Disoriented, Catwoman landed next to The Joker on the floor. Gordon abandoned the knife and grabbed Harley's gun from the floor. He turned the barrel on The Joker, "STAY DOWN!"

Harley reached into her blouse and pulled out a small smoke-bomb, in a split second they were all enveloped in the grey cloud. Harley darted towards the door, slamming her fist into Catwoman's head as she left—The Joker was just on her heels, he had somehow gotten not only his knife back—but he handed Harley her 45" while they ran to the stairwell.

Gordon and Catwoman had only been detained in the smoke-filled apartment for a moment, and they raced after Harley and The Joker. Outside, the air was filling with the sound of sirens; the kids must have found the help they needed.

"Escape plan?!" Harley yelled as they hit the last step and could still hear Gordon and Selina on their way down the stairs. Outside, the police were making a perimeter. There was no way they could avoid Gordon and Catwoman and the Police.

"I thought I'd wing it," he let out a fiendish note of laughter and grabbed Harley by the hair, forcing her in front of him; a human shield with his blade pressed up against her white neck. "Hold it there Commissioner," The Joker shouted up the stairwell.

Gordon peered down to see The Joker holding the knife firmly against his henchgirl's throat.

"He's bluffing," Selina hissed from over the Commissioner's shoulder.

"I'm not sure he is."

"He loves that little freak."

"He doesn't love anyone."

"Then let him kill her."

"I can't."

"It's going to be you again, one day," Selina said in his ear, "You could have him right here, right now. Shoot them both."

Even from two stories above, he could see a thin line of red beneath the silver blade against Harley's neck. "I can't. Harleen Quinzel is falling, but she is not a monster yet… I'll do this by the book."

The Joker shouted, "Don't follow," as he and Harley vanished from sight.

Catwoman jumped from the railing onto the stairs, "I know you'll regret that…" she said, looking down at the empty space where The Joker and Harley had been standing, "…and I'm sorry," she added.

"Ms. Kyle!" he yelled to her, before she could vanished too.

She stopped and looked back at him, her green eyes electric.

"Thank you… For saving my family… why did you come here? Why not run for it?"

She looked uncomfortable, "I wanted to ask you one more time."

"To speak to Batman?"

She nodded.

"How badly do you want to talk to him?"

She swallowed and didn't answer, but her eyes seemed so desperate.

"Selina—Ms. Kyle. If I can arrange for you to talk to The Batman, would you consider turning yourself in to stand trial?"

Fun Fact: My original estimation for this story was that it would be about... twenty pages long. I'm now at page 31 (writing out of order) and I'm just over half-way done. I didn't realise exactly how much set-up I would want to do before I got to the actual 'story' bit, with Harley's flachbacks of the beginning of their relationship.

Song of the Chapter: The Beatles, "I am the Walrus". Something about Beatles music makes me think of The Joker. Maybe it's the numerous references, or the juxtaposition of the cheerful and the bizarre.