Hey guys! Sorry this took so long! Finally decided that I needed to write just for fun and put all of my homework and college crap on hold for a bit. This sufficed like therapy. :)

Hope you like it! I wanted to type more, but I wanted to give you something. At least my creative juices are flowing again… Hopefully I'll be able to get another chapter up soon.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Dark Knight or the Joker. They belong to Christopher Nolan and DC Comics. Random OC is me = mine.

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Tropical Torment

Chapter 9

I had never had such a restless night in my entire life. I was so exhausted after everything that had happened, so much swimming and running and climbing and fighting for my life… Part of me thought that even sleeping beside the Joker couldn't have been enough to deny me rest. I'd never been one to have trouble with sleep before. I loved sleep and I always had, lazing about for hours, barely awake, in the warm enclosure of fluffy blankets, slipping in and out of dreams. This night could not have been farther from the blissful, late-morning slumber I so desperately craved and missed with all my heart.

I did get some semblance of sleep, for the record. There were moments of welcome unconsciousness, but otherwise, I just wallowed in my own pain and discomfort. My cuts and bruises were still stinging. The cavern was cool and the air was damp in a way that made me miss my old pajamas. I kept shivering, but was still too terrified (and attempting to remain dignified) to snuggle up to the Joker.

Whenever I woke and found myself still in the cavern with a criminal, I had to swallow the hideousness that was my undeniably painful reality once again. I was reminded countless times that there was no warm bed, no mom to come in and check on me if I screamed due to nightmares, no water cooler just outside my door if my throat got a little dry, no nothing but an expanse of strange, savage jungle. I missed the gentle hum of my fan, though I could kind of hear the rhythmic washing of the ocean against the shore far below. I kept waiting for a jaguar to wander into its cave after a night on the prowl and give the Joker and me an unexpected surprise. I didn't feel safe in the slightest, but still I managed to sleep somewhat…

In one of my moments of anxious consciousness, I noticed a tiny element of normalcy. We were both just breathing, not talking at this presumably-late hour or killing each other or anything like that. I heard the Joker breathing pretty evenly, though he didn't snore or anything. I couldn't confirm if he ever slept, all throughout the night. I didn't dare turn around or ask, for fear of provoking him in any way. I considered trying to sneak away in the darkness, but I figured it was still just as futile as it was when I first lay down beside him – I didn't know the island any better or have any more of a plan than when night fell, so why try and run now?

The Joker didn't pester me any more than he already was by having his arm around me. He didn't burst out laughing suddenly and scare the hell out of me. It was almost unsettling for him to be so quiet, but I didn't complain – it certainly made sleep easier in the brief moments when it came to me.

I didn't know what time it was. I didn't know where exactly on the planet Earth I was. I just know that I was still alive, that I was on an island, and that morning seemed like it was on its way. I drifted off to sleep once more as the sky displayed the barest hints of lightening. I had a dream about a seething blue mass. I seemed to be trying to swim through it, exhausting my mental focus in an effort to make my rebellious limbs cooperate enough to save myself and stay afloat. The blue beat at me, pushing and shoving me in all these different directions until I sank, unable to carry on.

I woke with a start after feeling that stupid, horrifically-disorientating falling sensation.

When I sat up, my eyes wide open and stinging, my cuts and bruises also aching at the sudden exertion, I realized that nothing except gravity and my own weakness had hindered that movement. There wasn't an arm around me anymore. In fact, as I looked around the cavern, I couldn't see the Joker anywhere… I wasn't sure what to make of that.

Where could he have gone?

Had he…actually left me here? Had a helicopter come while I was asleep and carried him back to Gotham? Was he testing me somehow, continuing his sick little game and seeing how I would do on my own? I thought I would've heard a helicopter, but I'd always been a sound sleeper as a kid, immune to thunderstorms and snoring alike. Still, I would've never thought I'd end up on a deserted island with one of Gotham's most wanted, so I was open to all of the complications and possibilities.

I stretched, feeling my back crack rather harshly, and then stood up. I ached and stung all over, taking a second to brush all of the sand and salt from the evaporated sea water and crusted blood from my clothing. It formed a repulsive radius of unpleasant reminders around my feet. I also realized that I'd lost one of my shoes at some unknown point since the ship was wrecked on the reef.

I moved around the cave, giving myself some time to wake up. I wasn't a morning person even when the circumstances of my awakening were hundreds of times better than this. My brain hadn't truly begun to acknowledge the fact that the life I had known before was completely over. I moved as if I were still in some sort of daze. I approached the crates in the back corner, still curious as to what they contained. They were nailed tightly closed, and I didn't really have any tools to open them. It was also too early in the day for me to care too much. I turned, itching the back of my head, and walked to the mouth of the cave.

The lighting was rich and golden. I figured it wasn't exactly morning anymore, maybe between 10 and noon. It seemed I'd kind of managed to sleep in despite my unsettling circumstances. I walked further out of the cavern, standing at the edge of the path leading to the entrance, the sun immediately chasing away the lingering chill on my arms and legs from the damp night in the cave. A tropical paradise stretched out below me, as far as I could see. It was a mass of emerald trees and foliage, gently swaying in a warm, humid breeze. I could see where the green ended and the white began, the sand bleached by countless years under the hot, shimmering sun. Beyond the sand was the ocean, an undeniably gorgeous hue of blue. It reminded me of Blue Raspberry Jolly Ranchers. It always had…

My mother would've loved it here, minus all the terror and primal necessity for survival.

I really wished that this was the vacation I had set out initially to be on, but I knew that it wasn't. My injuries and lack of a shoe and loss of innocence were supportive to that. For the first time since officially awakening for my second day in this beautiful hell, I remembered the man I had killed. I remembered how it had looked when the life, the vitality – the light had left his eyes. I remembered all of the dead people from yesterday – the little boy, the doe-eyed woman, the crazy girl who should've taken me down with them… I swallowed hardly, my eyes stinging and clouding up, but it seemed like I was out of tears.

My stomach hurt, and my throat was burning. I hadn't eaten or drank anything in a much longer time frame than I was used to. I guess I'd taken readily available food and water for granted in my previously-not-stranded state.

I had a moment where I really considered everything. Was I really going to do this, to try and survive here as long as I could? Were my family and friends really out of reach forever more? Was I really going to act as if I would never be saved, as if no hope of liberation existed, and that it was up to me to provide for myself now, as long as I wanted to be alive? Was this life even worth living anymore, at that? Had everything really changed in the course of a day? The magnitude of the loss almost brought me to my knees.

I couldn't take it all at once. I reached out blindly in the depths of my mind for my previous morning daze to return. I salvaged what bloody tatters were left of my happy place and clutched them close, building up another wall against the unbearable weight of my new situation. I had to take this bit by bit, maybe day by day. Right now, I was hungry and thirsty. That was all.

I sighed and started walking down the pathway, steadily descending my new mountainous home and running through every survival tactic I'd ever gathered. I tried to remember directions in my "Worst Case Scenario Survival Handbook." I ran through a mental-showing of Cast Away and wondered if I would go crazy and start talking to a volley ball for companionship. It would probably be a better friend than the Joker… I compiled a list of what-not-to-do from Lord of the Flies. No worshipping a pig skull or going all savage. I had glasses, so I had access to fire for cooking and maybe signaling. It was a miracle they'd stayed on my face during the swim to shore…

I figured a good start was looking for fruit and nuts and a clean water source.

I reached the end of the path and had to carefully scramble down the remainder of the mountain, basically just maneuvering through and climbing up and down large rocks. It was an easy final stretch. Taking the path down took me around a third of the time climbing the whole freaking thing had. I sighed, mentally reprimanding myself again for my stupidity last night, and then set off through the depths of the jungle.

The air was thicker beneath the cover of the trees, tiny pools of flickering sunlight streaming through and dancing across the ground. I heard a whole manner of bird calls and tiny creatures rustling in the leaves. I wasn't beyond appreciating the beauty of this place, but my nerves were on edge, readying me for any sort of animal attack or sudden natural disaster. I picked up a fallen tree branch and carried it around like a spear, just so I had something to whip around in case of an emergency. I sharpened the end of it absent-mindedly with a rock as I walked.

Eventually, I found my shoe, somewhere near the base of the mountain. It was helpful, seeing as stepping on all manner of sticks and sharp rocks was very unpleasant.

I wasn't sure if my multitude of injuries would ever heal properly, seeing as the sand and the forest debris certainly weren't helping my wounds stay clean as they closed. Despite how much it hurt, it felt good to move around. I'd gotten rather stiff sleeping so rigidly in the Joker's embrace. Honestly, even though I was terrified and overwhelmed, I found a sort of strange peacefulness just wandering through nature. If I paid attention to my current situation and really focused on what was going on, I panicked and cried without enough water in me for tears again. But if I just continued on in the moment, the moment of this pure exploration, this unexplored wilderness all around me… It was kind of nice.

I'd wandered through woods at my grandparent's house countless times, until I knew all of the paths and the exact locations of the apple trees. We also had a family gathering up north every year with another fine woods for me to traverse, sticks in hand, mind open and bombarded by the scents, sights, and sounds of the forest. Though I was far from enjoying the pressure of finding food and water before I died and living here until I was somehow found (which was unlikely) or until the Joker killed me (which was more likely), I certainly had enough consciousness of my surroundings to appreciate this brilliant place.

I guess an island wasn't the worst location to be completely alone aside from the company of a sadistic criminal.

I stuck close to the base of the mountain for a while, circling it just to get a feel of how big it was and if there was anything useful close to home. It struck me as odd, how quickly I was referring to that cave as my home. I guess it was the closest thing I had, and in this world of utter chaos and uncertainty and instability, I was clinging to its solidity, primitive as it was.

I walked for what felt like an hour or so, my legs already throbbing a little with the strain. I wasn't the most active or physically fit person in the world. This island was either going to whip me into shape or kill me…

I found plenty of coconuts, but had nothing to carry them in or to break them with. I tucked two under my arms just in case and continued on, the fibers on the outside of the shells tickling my bare arms. The heat became a little overbearing as the day dragged on. Sweat dappled my brow and my upper lip. I ended up removing the draw-string from my shorts and using it as binding to secure a large leaf over the top of my head, to provide some shade.

As I was coming around what I figured was the rear of the mountain range, directly behind the place I started from, I heard something interesting. It was a jagged whispering sound that was very familiar….

Running water!

Oh my God!

I quickened my pace, stumbling almost blindly with my excitement. I couldn't see anything before me through the trees, leading me to believe it wasn't on the level of the ground. It sounded like it was close by, coming from… above me. I turned and faced the mountain range, heading for the stones of the base and hauling myself up, dropping the coconuts there on the sand without a second thought. My parched throat gave me strength to climb when, otherwise, I would've trembled too fiercely half-way up and then would've fallen to my serious injury or death. It took a while, seeing as my eagerness drove me but couldn't make it hurt less, and I eventually crested a hill-like formation in the rock and peered down. I squealed with delight as the pool of water being fed by a waterfall came into my view.

Oh what luck! Thank you God! Thank you God! I really couldn't believe it.

It was so beautiful! So blue and clear and heavenly…

It was almost embedded in the mountain's sloping side, completely surrounded by stone that kept it contained, the fluid protected by rocky, vine-laced walls. The ridge that I had climbed up to and was now leaning over went all the way around, but it wasn't too high above the surface of the water to where one couldn't get back out. The pool appeared fairly deep, having a darker center and a lighter surface that indicated a reasonable change in depth. The edges were the shallowest, almost looking like gently sloping ledges. It was perfect, almost structured like a swimming pool. It even had a few pieces of rock jutting from the walls above it that could be used like diving boards. I almost leapt headlong right into its cerulean depths without thinking, but my curiosity and my caution made me hesitate.

I didn't know if it was fresh or salt water, and really didn't fancy taking another dip in the ocean to get a nice new crust of salt for me and my screaming injuries. I glanced up at the waterfall's mouth. It seemed to be coming from out of the mountain… Perhaps the ocean was feeding through from below, or perhaps there was a spring bubbling up… I can't express how much I wished for a spring of fresh water at that moment.

Admittedly expecting to be disappointed but still nearly mad with thirst and hope, I climbed over the ridge and down the rocks toward the pool. The walls had many ledges near the top, though they got a little slick and featureless the closer I got to the surface of the water, as if the water level was likely to change and wear away the stone. It probably flooded slightly during heavy rains. After slipping a few times and acquiring a small cut on my palm from a sharp rock, I reached the base of the wall. Almost holding my breath with excitement and dread in equal parts, I settled onto one of the gently sloping edges, staring at the glimmering wonder that was the pool before me, below me, around me. The water was cool against my ankles, gliding gently in my shoes, and I was overwhelmingly pleased when the blisters and gashes in my feet didn't immediately sting and burn.

The water was fresh. Hallelujah.

I then proceeded to wade messily forward off the shallow ledge and into the deeper depths of the pool, submerging myself without further hesitation. The coolness swirled around me like liquid heaven, easing the tropical heat and finally getting that sticky, sweaty, gritty, sandy feeling to leave me alone. I sighed a cloud of blissful bubbles, closing my eyes and drifting in that dreamy moment before I came up for air at least. With my breath restored, I then plunged my head under the surface of the water and proceeded to gulp large mouthfuls of it down. It sang as it slid down my throat.

A part of my mind acknowledged how the water could have a hazardously-high mineral content or exotic bacteria in it, but at that point, I was too happy to care. I figured sickness was a better cause of death than dehydration, if I could choose.

After around twenty minutes of lazing about in that blessed pool, I swam to the shallow edge and clambered out. I'd found a source of water, and now I needed some food, some method of carrying everything I was finding, things like that. I resituated the leaf upon my head, ringing out my long, sopping hair. I sat in the sun until I was no longer dripping, waiting to be dry enough that sand wouldn't stick to me again before I descended back to the forest floor. Before I did so, I happened to glance out over the tops of the trees.

I saw the reef out on the horizon – and I saw the ship.

I realized then that I'd just assumed it had sunk completely. Of course parts of it would've gotten stuck on the reef. Perhaps there was a chance of gathering supplies, salvaging clothes or food or anything from its flooded depths of cabins and hallways… That would be a good place to proceed. My stomach was moaning now, happy with the water I'd found but still desiring more sustenance. I was starting to feel really woozy and light-headed. I'd never been pleasant when hungry.

I climbed back down to the ground and picked up the coconuts I'd left there. I put one up against the mountain's side and grabbed a small rock from the ground. I then tried to hammer it open, striking again and again at the brown, fibrous surface as hard as I could. I remembered it being hard in Cast Away, but damn, I just couldn't get it. I eventually gave up on that one and tossed it aside, retrieving the other coconut I'd brought from the sand and hammering that one for a few minutes.

It cracked a little, enough for me to drink some of the milk out. I'll admit, I wasn't a huge fan of coconut stuff – I didn't like too much of it on cookies or cupcakes, and I certainly wouldn't buy Mounds or Almond Joys before a Twix or a Milky Way Midnight at the grocery store. The milk was very much coconut milk and, as such, was something I didn't drink a whole lot of. I tried breaking the rest of the nut open and only got a shard of the shell to cave in. I fished the broken piece out of the depths of the coconut and brought it out, biting at the white lining. Again, a whole lot of coconut, but it was something.

It wasn't like I really had the option to be picky here, with the island making me acquire certain tastes if I wanted to live.

I kept working at the more agreeable shell as I headed out towards the beach, leaving my sharpened staff in the sand near the mountain so I'd know where the pool was when I came back later, hopefully with some sort of container so I could stock up the cave and get some survival supplies forming.

Eventually I cleared the cover of the trees and emerged out onto the sand. The sun was immediately hotter. I realized how much I wanted sunscreen. I was never a "sun child," and I doubted this island would change my mind without some pain coming along with it.

I'd taken a bit of a wrong turn on my way out to the shore, so I had to walk along the beach for a few minutes before I found my destination. The reef was out a ways from the island, and the wreckage of the Ocean Angel 5 was balancing hazardously on top of it, a big eye-sore that cut into the lovely expanse of the blue horizon like a hellish, misplaced puzzle piece.

Sitting on the shore before the ruin was the Joker.

I paused as my daze shivered. My half-eaten coconut thunked onto the sand.

Seeing him reminded me of just how inescapable this reality was, all that had happened to bring me to this horrific state. I blinked, swallowed, and continued forward.

I stopped beside him, staring down at him without comprehension.

How long had he been sitting here? Why had he come here to begin with?

What the hell? That was my general question.

He didn't look up or smile creepily at me or anything like that.

"Banana?" he asked, holding up one of the familiar yellow fruits for me to take. There was a bunch of them in front of him, lying in the sand with one or two empty peels.

I blinked, too taken aback to figure out if I should whack it out of his hand or take it and scarf it down or ask him where he found it or start beating him over the head with it.

He glanced up when I didn't respond, giving me the amused smile I'd hoped to avoid.

"Now, now, you need to make sure you, uh, get enough potassium," he said, waving the banana in my face.

It was then that I took the fruit from him, ripping it rather roughly from his hand so he didn't get the impression that I was willingly accepting his help or anything like that. My stomach was still growling, and I figured I would be better suited to fighting against his reign of terror if I wasn't weak from hunger. I tore open the top of the banana and took a big, obnoxious bite.

"Admiring your handiwork?" I asked him bitterly, my mouth full enough to distort my voice a little as I turned and faced the remaining wreckage of the ship, like he was doing.

A brief silence full of washing water and distant calling sea birds stretched between us.

"…Isn't it b –?" he started to say, but I cut him off by whipping my banana against the side of his face. It made a dry, slapping sound.

"Don't you DARE say beautiful!" I shrieked, unable to take how often he referred to me as well as absolute carnage in that way. I couldn't take it anymore, the way he corrupted a word for good and elegance with his insanity and his malice.

There was a fraction of a second where his eyes were wide with something like surprise, and then he just laughed, a great manic whooping laugh that I'd sometimes heard on news reports with clips from security cameras when he'd robbed banks or killed politicians or something. It made me shudder, the remainder of my banana quaking in my hand. The top part that I'd been eating had broken off upon impact and landed in the sand a few feet behind us, leaving only the bottom half that was still enclosed in my fist and the peel itself. I'd just hit the Joker with a banana. The ridiculousness of it all was rather funny, but I didn't feel like laughing.

I ran a suddenly-clammy hand across my forehead, dislodging my leaf-hat, and crumpled to the sand.

Now that I had some water in me from the pool, the tears could come.

He upset me so much so fast – made me not myself with just a moment's bout of patronizing words or provoking behavior. He got right under my skin and picked at my frazzled nerves and I snapped within seconds, all the time… I was so unstable around him, and he was unstable in general, so this was a match made in unstable hell...

"…What the hell were you thinking?" I asked quietly, speaking through the enclosure of my arms to the Joker, "You wrecked a ship full of innocence people, made them fight for their lives that you took away from them anyway, and then made me be the one that was left… Why the hell would you do that? What would possess you to – Why me? What are we going to do now?"

I lifted up my head and glared at him, tears streaming down my face.

"What the hell are we going to do now?" I shouted, crushing the remains of my banana in my fist. It squished out between my fingers, dribbling on the sand, and it felt nasty but I didn't care. My scream seemed to echo off the mountain range behind us and then fade into oblivion.

The Joker and I had a stare-down, neither one of us speaking.

I panted slightly, recovering my breath, before I hurled the remains of my banana into the sea and wrapped my arms around myself, settling with a big huff on the sand once more, thinking how silly I was for expecting a logical answer from a psychopath once again. It wasn't like the crazy bastard had answered any of my previous questions – why would I expect him to answer now?

It was then that the Joker stood up with a drunken, lolling motion and headed toward the water. I glanced up, drying my tears with my fingers and watching him with cautious confusion.

"This migh-tuh be a start…" I heard him murmur, as if it wasn't totally directed at me, and he waded a few feet into the ocean and lifted a small, dripping brown suitcase up for me to see. Huh – that was oddly practical of him. He tossed it on the sand, almost hitting me with it, giggling to himself as I lurched out of the way and glared. Well, it seems like we were both thinking along the same lines of salvaging things from the boat. Who knew the Joker and I would have a similar thought?

He continued to search rather lazily (or maybe he was just swimming) through the water while I opened up the suitcase. It was full of clothing, that of a middle-aged man. It made sense for a small suitcase. The guy was probably on his own, and men never packed as much as women. I laid out the shirts and pants on the beach, where the sun could dry them. There were also some belts and socks and shoes, and the suitcase itself was useful as a container. When it was all laid out and beyond the reach of the ocean's pulsing waves, I turned around and saw that the Joker had dragged another suitcase and some twisted pieces of metal, no doubt from the ship's smashed hull, up onto the sand.

The new suitcase seemed to be toiletries, which was nice because they were packed in a plastic bag and hadn't been damaged in the crash or the surf.

As I thought about it, I realized that unpacking the first suitcase and laying the wet clothes in the sand was kind of stupid, seeing as I would want to wash them to get the sand off, hence making them wet again and taking them unnecessarily out of their container… Oh well.

Assuming the Joker didn't kill me suddenly over the next few days or hours or minutes or whatever, I had plenty of time to figure out how best to use all of our supplies later. We could use the pieces of metal for weapons or build things out of them… I guess I was happy that we certainly weren't completely without materials to work with.

We traversed the beach near the boat up and down, gathering more suit cases and various bits of various things. I didn't try to start conversation or ask any more futile questions. The Joker hummed some random tune to himself sometimes. When we'd found most of what was close at hand, we turned our attention to the shipwreck.

"You think it's safe to go inside of it?" I asked rather hesitantly, fearful of what treacherous dangers might await us if we reentered something that was half-sunken and probably completely unstable.

"Probably not," the Joker muttered with an audible smack of his lips. I glanced at him, noticing how the wounds I'd left when I'd clawed his face yesterday were still there, still healing. He then turned, gave me an unsettlingly-wide grin, and strode toward the water.

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Okay, there it is! Read and review! I'll try to keep the creative momentum going!

Thanks for reading! 3