IMPORTANT A/N: This chapter has been rated M. It is very dark and very violent.

When I started this fic, this chapter was never intended to be as dark or as brutal as it has turned out to be. But as with so much else of this story, once I started writing, the character took over. To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm happy with the chapter and I feel a little...polluted after writing it. So for just this once, I'm going to ask people to please let me know what they think as this was quite a difficult chapter to write and has left me feeling a little drained (I know, how very pretentious, right? But it has. I need a major chocolate and comedy marathon to dilute the stench of Joker crazy).

oOo

Robin had no strength left to struggle as Joker dragged him back towards the centre of the room yet again. Leaving the boy propped against a pillar, the clown disappeared. Robin rested his head against the hard concrete, closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing, because no matter how many deep breaths he took, he still couldn't seem to take in enough oxygen to satisfy his lungs. His chest felt tight as though someone was sitting on it, slowly suffocating him.

"Here we go! So, what do you want to paint first?"

Joker was back. Wearily, Robin opened his eyes to find him crouched in front of him with several sheets of paper clutched in his hand. His expression held a twisted excitement that Robin knew meant nothing good for him. He bared his teeth in a snarl at the clown.

"Awwwwww, you mad at me, little birdie? And after I went to all this trouble to make our play date fun!" Joker pouted, then smiled slowly. "Still, at least I'm having fun."

Robin's eyes widened as Joker produced a very big knife. He thought his heart would hammer right through his chest as the clown fingered the blade.

"I think it's time to channel my inner Picasso."

Before Robin knew what was happening, Joker yanked his legs, jerking him away from the pillar and causing his body to hit the floor with a hard thump. He gasped as his pinned arms twisted painfully beneath him. Joker smiled, then rolled him onto his stomach.

A strong hand gripped his left arm and a line of fire erupted across it. Robin cried out, trying to pull his arm out of the Joker's grip. Another blaze of agony opened up across his arm and Robin tugged desperately.

"Now hold still, Robbie or you'll ruin the picture!" Joker scolded.

Robin realised the demented maniac was using the knife to sketch out images on his skin. He groaned and gritted his teeth as two more smaller, but equally agonizing strips were scraped into his flesh. The fifth one was by far the worst; it curved in a deep semi-circle making Robin feel as though the flesh was being carved from his arm and prompted his first actual scream since this whole nightmare had begun.

Joker paused. "Ooooo, what a lovely noise! Let's see if we can make more of those!"

A series of short, jagged dashes were carved out, making him writhe and gasp. When two sharp stabs were delivered to the arm, Robin's carefully constructed façade finally broke. "Please stop!" he begged.

"Stop? But we're almost finished. I just need to sign it."

Sign it?!

"Hmmm," Joker's voice sounded thoughtful. "I'm out of room. You have such iiiiiiitty bitty little arms. Never mind, I'll use the other one."

"No!" Robin croaked, as the Joker let go of that arm and seized the other one. He struggled furiously, not caring that it made his breathing problem worse. He just wanted the pain to stop.

"Relax, little birdie, this won't take long."

Joker straddled his thrashing legs and held the right arm tightly, then began to carve his name into the trapped limb. The curved lines were so much worse; tearing and twisting the tender flesh with each excruciating scrape of the knife. Robin screamed into the floor, frantically moving his head to left and right, trying in vain to pull away from the awful pain.

Finally, the Joker finished and sat back to examine his handiwork while Robin lay shaking and trembling on the floor.

"That looks good! You should see it, Kiddo," Joker told him.

"Go to hell!" Robin spat.

"You seem angry. You should do a picture; I've heard painting is supposed to be really cathartic. Oh! Oh! I know! Let's do a picture for Batman! Any idea what you want to paint?"

Robin remained silent, his forehead pressed into the floor as he took several shuddering, rasping breaths.

"Not feeling any inspiration, huh? Never mind," Joker leaned down and whispered in his ear, "I'm filled with enough inspiration for the both of us."

He reached for Robin's left hand and flattened the palm outwards before drawing the knife across the soft skin. The boy cried out, twisted his hand out of the Joker's grip and curled both hands into tight fists.

"Now, now, Bird Brain," Joker cooed. "This is for your picture!" He pulled at the hand trying to flatten it once more, but for every finger he managed to straighten, Robin curled another even more tightly into the fist.

Finally, Joker sighed. "Okay, Pumpkin, guess we have to do this the hard way." He straightened out the index finger but instead of releasing it, he snapped it.

Robin cried out as pain shot up his arm from the break. Gasping he turned his head to the left. He could see the Joker just out of the corner of his eye; his face a mask of happy concentration as he hummed to himself. Another finger was forced out from the fist and a second shiver of pain shot through him as Joker broke that one too. A third break followed, leaving his fingers limp and twisted.

"Stop!" Robin yelled, immediately dropping both fists if it meant the clown would stop breaking his fingers. Otherwise, he would just break them all and continue with whatever he was doing anyway.

Joker shot him a sly glance. "Smart boy."

The knife resumed its torturous sketching across the palm of his hand; each etch of the blade causing him to jerk convulsively. The pain was setting off flashes of light behind his eyes and fiery waves of pain lit up his lacerated nerve endings. His vision blurred. Joker moved to the other hand and repeated the torture.

He wasn't aware of the clown finishing his work; pain was pulsating through him making him think the knife was still carving a slow path across his skin. It was only when his lower arms flopped sideways as Joker removed the manacles from his wrists that he realized the torment had stopped.

He tried to move his arms, but they only gave a feeble twitch as pins and needles jostled alongside the pain. He could hear paper rustling and then his left hand was being pressed down hard on something, causing his broken fingers to throb painfully.

The explosions stopped going off behind his eyes and as his vision cleared, he could just see the Joker leaning over him and felt the process being repeated with his right hand.

A sheet of paper was shoved in his face; two bright red, glistening handprints stamped in the middle. Robin felt ill at the cruel mockery of what should be an innocent painting.

"Didn't I tell you I knew where to get the perfect shade of red?" said Joker happily. "We just need to sign it now."

The paper disappeared. Robin felt the Joker seize one of his fingers and begin to daub at the paper with it. There was a tight pain in his heart and a lump formed in his throat; would this be his last message to Bruce? He closed his eyes against the suspicious wetness forming there. I don't want to die.

Was this what it had felt like for Jason in the last moments before his death? Filled with pain and fear? Robin understood now why Jason had been so overprotective.

"Finished!" the Joker's sing song voice echoed and he thrust the paper back into the boy's face. He opened his eyes.

Robin was unable to stop a solitary tear from sliding down his cheek at the image. Over his handprints was the words, 'To Batman,' while under them was written, 'from Robin.' The painting was sadistic, cruel and infuriating. It hurt him horribly and he knew it would do the same to Batman. He closed his eyes again as another tear leaked out under the mask.

Joker spotted the tear. "Awwww, are you moved by your piece of art? Hadn't pegged you as an art aficionado, Pumpkin."

Robin gave a choked sob and stifled the tears. He was going to die, alone and in pain, but he would be damned if he would give this sicko the pleasure of seeing him break down. He clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes tight, counting to twenty in an effort to get his emotions back under control.

When he finally managed to slow his pounding heart and swallow the painful lump in his throat, he opened his eyes and put the last of his strength into giving the Joker a furious glare.

The clown shook his head in amusement. "Awwww, the little Batglare again. I think of all the Bat's little birds, you might be my favourite. Such a teeny weenie little bird, but so brave!" He leaned forward and ruffled Robin's hair. "It almost makes me not want to kill you. But only almost." The hand tightened in his hair. "I think we have time for one more game. Every played doctors and nurses?"

oOo

There was silence in the car as they drove through Gotham. Jason didn't trust himself to speak and from the tight expression on Batman's face, he guessed it would be an effort for the man to form words. The clock was counting down and their search so far had been unsuccessful.

They hadn't yet heard from Wally who was running through Gotham Central and the entire west side in a desperate effort to locate Robin. Jason and Batman had taken the east side. So far they had been to nine different locations without any sign of the boy. Jason swallowed, trying not to think about how much time must have passed since the Joker had disappeared and taken Robin with him.

Almost four hours, a traitorous little voice reminded him and Jason snarled. He didn't want to think about what Joker was doing to Dick.

They pulled into the next location, an abandoned textile factory. Jason's heartbeat increased as they leapt from the car; both in fear of what they might find, and hope that they would find something.

It didn't take long to discover there was nothing inside. Jason gave a frustrated cry and kicked a wooden crate in anger, smashing it and sending splinters of wood scattering across the floor. Batman didn't comment on his reaction but his rigid body posture as they left the building told the younger man he was in pain. For the first time, Jason considered how it must have felt for his Bruce the night Joker took him; this helplessness, not being able to do anything yet knowing that someone you cared about was suffering somewhere…it was sheer torment.

They reached the car just as Wally contacted them. "Batman, I've finished searching those buildings; there's no sign of Rob."

Batman closed his eyes. "Rendezvous with us at the old Stabler factory off 49th in the East quadrant."

The teenager was there in under a minute. "How many places are left?" he asked anxiously.

Batman consulted the computer in the Batmobile. "Twenty-nine."

Wally held out his hands. "Give 'em."

Batman printed the list and handed them to Wally. "Start with the furthest out. We'll keep searching and meet in the middle."

"Middle, yeah right!" Wally snorted. "I'll see you in your second location if I don't find Rob first."

And with another blast of air, he was gone. Jason had to hand it to Batman; using someone with super speed who actually knew Gotham was faster than using an entire club of superheroes who may have wasted precious time just trying to find the locations.

As the Batmobile pulled out, Jason glanced at the clock and something tight lodged in his throat. Time was literally ticking away from them and he was barely keeping it together. Jason had never wanted anything so desperately in his life as for Dick to be okay.

"How much time do you think we have left?"

The question was sudden and Jason glanced at Batman. He had heard the fear there, something he had never thought he would hear from the man beneath the cowl. "I don't know."

"How long did it take him…?" Batman hesitated but Jason knew what he had been going to ask.

"To kill me?" He looked out the window. "I'm not sure of the exact length of time from when he kidnapped me – I was unconscious when he took me to the warehouse – but it couldn't have been more than two, three hours."

"What makes you think there's time now?" Batman's voice was harsh but Jason ignored it. He knew what this conversation was costing him.

"You're not going to like it."

"I don't like any of this!"

Jason continued to stare out the window, unable to look at Batman. "I was seventeen, Dick is thirteen; he'll appeal to Joker even more. The freak will drag it out." This was something Jason had known from the beginning, but hearing the actual words aloud made him sick to the very bones of his soul. His heart ached for Dick.

Batman didn't speak again and Jason was glad. He didn't think he was capable of answering anymore questions.

It took them twenty minutes to search the next two locations on the list, with no results. The weight of hopelessness started to press in on Jason as they returned to the car. He knew in his gut they were running out of time.

He jumped as Wally appeared in front of him, shocked that the teenager had been serious about meeting them at their second location. Jason had to admit that the super speed thing was seriously impressive.

"He's not here?" Wally cried, taking one look at them. "But he wasn't in any of the other buildings!"

"And we're out of places to look," Batman responded.

The three of them stood in silence, staring at one another. Jason could feel cold terror take hold of his heart and squeeze hard. Blood pounded in his ears and he could feel himself starting to loose control of the tenuous grip he had been maintaining on his panic for the last hour.

"We need to look at this logically," Batman finally said, although the effort of speaking distorted his voice. "Would Joker leave Gotham completely?"

"No. He wouldn't have the patience to wait," Jason answered bitterly.

"So he has to be here somewhere. Jason, you know him best, where else would he go?"

"I don't know! Abandoned and empty buildings have always been his location of choice!"

"We've already checked all of them!" Batman growled. "Jason, think!"

Jason put a hand to his head, thinking desperately. Joker was so unpredictable in so many ways, but so predictable in others. The one thing he had always been consistent in was his choice of location for tormenting his victims; empty, abandoned, condemned, anywhere he could operate undisturbed. Why would he change now?

Because he knew you were looking for him! a voice prompted from the back of his mind.

Jason's eyes narrowed. That was true. The only person who knew this Joker better than him was the Batman from his world. But that didn't change the fact that Joker would still need somewhere he could torture Dick without anyone hearing him. And yet they had just searched all of those locations, not to mention that half the city was being heavily policed or searched by bomb disposal squads in light of the attack on Gotham General.

But not the first area you searched, the little voice prodded.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Jason exclaimed as it hit him. "He went back! Batman, what was that massive old building a couple of blocks from Gotham General?"

"An old storage facility for Branson Furniture before they went into liquidation. But I searched that…" his eyes widened slightly, "…before we knew Dick was missing!"

Jason looked at him. "Every resident from Gotham has been moved out of there after the bombs went off, but it's already been searched, making it the perfect location for Joker! Wally, do you know where it is?" he turned to the teenager urgently.

Wally nodded, his expression grim as he pulled his goggles back down over his eyes.

"We'll be right behind you," Batman told him.

Jason noticed that he didn't tell Wally to wait for them to make a move. Clearly, Batman knew that time was almost up too.

oOo

Robin's breathing hitched. Was Joker going to cut him open?

He could hear the clown humming once more as he unlocked the manacles from Robin's upper arms and they flopped to his sides. Immediately, he attempted to bring them in front of him but only his left arm would co-operate. His right arm remained where it was, limp and heavy. Robin realized it was broken; something he been unaware of with manacles pinning his arms while pain blanketed every inch of him.

He looked at his left arm and felt his stomach churn slightly. Joker had carved a childish image of Batman onto it. Angry, red raw gashes glared back at him while blood dripped out and rolled onto the floor.

"Like it?" Joker asked; bringing the broken arm forward so Robin could see his work there as well. 'Joker' had been carved along his right inner forearm in an untidy scrawl. Blood flowed from the wounds, puddling on the floor beneath. Robin felt sick at the sight of his mutilated arms.

His attention went to his hands and his breath caught in his throat.

The Joker had carved along the lines of his fingers and palms, leaving the skin hanging in tattered shreds. Blood was smeared across the palms while the wounds continued to bleed. Robin stared at the vast swathes of red slowly pooling in front of him.

"Picasso was my inspiration," Joker told him. "I mean, the guy cut off his own ear for art or something. Course, I didn't want to copy him completely or it would have just been a copy instead of a Joker original!" He chuckled. "Ready for our last game, Pumpkin?"

"Haven't you…had enough…fun?" Robin rasped, his stunted breathing impeding his speech.

"Now, now, don't be a spoilsport. We've played all the little kid games for you, now it's my turn to have a grown-up game!"

"You've…already…played doctors and…nurses." Each word Robin spoke was an effort and it was getting even harder to take a breath now. Lying on the hard floor on his stomach was making whatever Joker had crushed in his chest far worse.

"What are you talking about, Pumpkin?"

"My…arms…Moran"

Joker glanced at the mutilated appendages and a wide grin split across his face. "That's what you think? Oh little birdie, you're so innocent, it's adorable!"

Robin gave him a confused look, ignoring the neck cramp from keeping his head twisted to the left.

Joker leaned down and stroked his hair. "You see, sweetie, people let nurses and doctors see all the things that they'd normally only let very special friends see, and they get to touch things that only very special friends get to touch so that's why it's a grown-ups game."

Robin's eyes widened in horror as he understood what the Joker was saying. The hand still stroking his hair took on a horrible insidious meaning and he jerked his head away. "No!"

He rolled onto his side, ignoring the pain that lanced his chest and flung out his unbroken arm to try and push the clown away. The Joker grabbed it and squeezed the wounds tightly, drawing a cry of distress from Robin.

"See, it's not really your call to make, little birdie," Joker told him, pulling the arm towards him and forcing the boy back onto his stomach before straddling his legs.

Robin struggled frantically as the Joker leaned over him, the clown's weight pinning him to the ground making breathing almost impossible. He wanted to cry. He didn't want this to happen. He'd had enough. Everything the clown had inflicted on him tonight paled in comparison to this.

His chest heaved as he tried to breathe, simultaneously trying to pull himself out from under the clown.

"Relax, little bird," Joker cooed in his ear. "You'll only make it hurt more."

The boy felt sick. Joker was not going to do this to him, Robin refused to let him. His unbroken arm tried to scrape the clown's face but Joker laughingly shoved it aside. Robin's fingers brushed against something hard on the ground beside them. The manacles!

He seized the iron cuffs, ignoring how much it hurt his shattered fingers and swung them backwards, into the Joker's face. There was a loud crunch and Joker gave a yelp. The weight disappeared from Robin's back easing the pressure on his breathing somewhat. He gulped in a breath before swinging again, but Joker grabbed his wrist and twisted it, forcing him to drop the manacles.

The clown wasn't laughing now. "Bad little Robin!" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous, and different to the high-pitched baby voice he had been using all along.

Without warning, something sharp and hot and agonising was driven into Robin's shoulder and he screamed, trying to twist away. The white hot pain continued to plough inwards and there was a thump as something hit the floor beneath him, impaling him in place. Joker's knife. Somewhere in his tattered mind Robin was aware of someone whimpering.

Joker leaned forward to whisper in his ear, the putrid breath coating his skin once more. "We are playing MY game now, little bird." There was a hard twist to the knife in his shoulder and Robin would have screamed if there was enough oxygen in his lungs, but all that sounded was a choked gasp.

The clown's weight was starting to crush him. It had been hard enough to draw breath before but now he couldn't inhale even the tiniest puff of air. Robin realized he was slowly suffocating. Blood was pounding in his head and his vision darkened. Joker's fingers started to tug at his uniform and he pressed his head into the floor, hoping he would suffocate first.

"GET THE HELL OFF HIM YOU FREAK!"

Joker stopped tugging and Robin twisted his head upwards at the sound of the familiar voice. His best friend stood several feet away looking angry and scared. Robin reached one shaking hand towards him. "Wa…lly," he managed to gasp out before the blackness looming in on the edges of his vision swallowed him completely.