This is a flippin long chapter, so you're welcome in advance. ;)

"You've gotta be bloody kidding me."

Dr. Crane shook his head. "No, Dr. Dawn. I do not kid about these sorts of things. It is dictated by the court order that you must perform a full evaluation of the Joker, and this is a requirement of an evaluation."

"But inkblots? That is so 60s! Plus, I have my own way of doing things. I haven't used inkblots on a patient since med. school…" I stared down in disgust at the file Dr. Crane held out to me. I mean, seriously! Inkblots were one of the most unreliable tests when it comes to the criminally insane. They lie; it is in their nature, which is why the Lying Game is so much more productive.

Dr. Crane sighed. "Yes, Dr. Dawn, I understand. But I also don't care. You will perform the test on the Joker, or I cannot say that you have fulfilled the quota the judge demanded."

"Fine." Fuming, I grabbed the folder from him and mumbled profanities under my breath, storming out of the room.

After gaining entrance to the interrogation room (as I liked to call it) where I meet with the Joker, I burst into the room and shoved the chair aside for me to sit in. I slammed the folder on the table and crossed my arms. I cannot pinpoint exactly why I was so furious, maybe it was because I was so frustrated with the lack of results the police were having with Daniel and I was taking it out on this, but I didn't care.

The Joker noted my mood with interest, bouncing his leg up and down energetically. "Why so pissy, Sin?" he asked, glancing at the manila folder. I could read his thoughts. He was wondering what was in it and why it was making me so angry.

I sent him a mockingly fake smile. "Who says I'm pissy? I'm freaking peachy," I spat, not really up for his cracks at the moment. The Joker chucked at my tone.

He leaned back as much as he could, being handcuffed to the chair, as always. "Then what's on the agenda today, Doc?"

"Inkblots," I growled, reluctantly opening the folder and taking out several sheets of paper, all decorated with lovely little splatters of ink. The Joker started howling with laughter.

"Inkblots? Oh yes, this will be fun." I glared at him for a second before shuffling the papers until they were orderly. He noticed that the folder was alone on the desk. "Aren't you going to record my answers?" he asked, the curiosity evident in his voice.

I scoffed. "Please! What's the point? Besides, the court order says I just have to perform the test. They didn't say I had to actually evaluate your answers."

The Joker, amused at my mutinous behavior, snickered. "How you gonna spice up the lesson, Doc?" Funny how he knew exactly what had been going through my mind; I had been wondering how I could change this little test into something actually useful.

I thought in silence for a minute. "Okay, I think I got something," I announced finally. "Instead of telling me what you see in them, I want you to tell me whether or not you would rearrange the spots. You don't have to tell me how, or why, just whether or not you would. Okay?"

The Joker absorbed this with inquisitiveness. "Okay," he replied, after a second's hesitation. I guessed the meaning behind it. He was uneasy why I would want to know that, and what sort of doors I would be unlocking in his mind through this test. But he would answer truthfully; oh yes he would.

I held up the first inkblot. It was a chaotic mess of paint slashes. "It's fine," he told me. I nodded and showed him another. This one was the same as the last, chaotic and messy. "It's fine," he repeated. Then another. It was an orderly situation of dots, neat and without smudges of any kind. The Joker studied it. "I would rearrange that," he finally answered. I quickly went through the stack and he always answered yes to the orderly ones and no to the ones with smudges.

The message was clear: He liked chaos.

This I already knew. But what I wanted to know was whether he truly thought like that, if he saw the orderly code of everything and felt the need to change that, or if this religion of chaos was really a sham, a cover for the sanity to hide under. One of the characteristics of being insane is viewing the world differently than other and acting in accord. By answering subconsciously in a way different from others, he had just gotten closer to saving his own neck.

I very slowly replaced the inkblots into the folder, absorbed in my thoughts, and for the first time in days, they weren't on Daniel.

They were on the Joker.

Little did I know that three hours later, that was going to change completely.

I was in my car at the time, flipping through the stations. I finally settled on the voice of a woman, whom was in the middle of talking about obsessive partners. I settled back in my seat, being stuck in rush hour traffic. Being at a complete stop, I didn't really have anything to concentrate on besides her voice.

Funny how then her voice was beautiful, the perfect candidate for a radio talk show host. You could tell her attitude about everything. If I couldn't speak English, I would have still understood exactly she was trying to say with a voice like that.

"Let's face it, an obsessive partner just isn't attractive," she announced, her tone relaxed. This was her comfort zone. "It is awkward knowing that another person wants to know everything about you, that you occupy their thoughts all the time. This is one of the top reasons people break up today. Tonight, we are going to discuss the difference between clingy and obsessive, how to identify a companion that has these qualities, and what to do about it."

I sighed, as traffic picked up a little and then brought me to another stop, and mustered a yawn. I had been suffering from a slight case of insomnia since Daniel had escaped. "Also, how do you avoid becoming clingy? It often happens that we become so afraid of losing someone that we end up pushing him or her away. Give your partner some space. Let them live a life other than being with you."

A car honked behind me, and I flipped him off. It wasn't like I could go anywhere… "Now we are going to take some callers. Caller number one, you're talking with Sammy McGuff of Sway 95.7."

A few people called, mostly females wondering whether their boyfriends were too possessive or not. After the third call, it started to get redundant, so just as she was announcing that this would be the final call I put my fingers to the dial with the full intention of turning the station.

But then a voice came on the air that made my blood run cold. "Yes," it said, silky and persuasive, just how I remembered it. "I think I might be one of those obsessive type…"

The girl, Sammy, gave an understanding, "I see, and tell me about this girl."

Oh my God. My hands were shaking as I punched the numbers for the police on my cell phone. He was going to do something; I could feel it in my gut. Someone was in danger, though I didn't know how or whom. What was he doing? What was he planning? Frantically, I turned the volume up so I could hear better.

His voice, oh God that voice, filled my car. "Well, she is just perfect. We haven't seen each other in a while, and I've missed her so much…but I have a feeling we'll be together again real soon."

Sammy, who was oblivious to just how dangerous the man she was talking to was, seemed politely interested. "Uh-huh. Why don't you tell me about her?"

My breath caught in my throat. I could practically see his lips curl into a smile. I became conscious of blaring horns, and I glanced at the road to see that traffic had moved. Without hesitation, I pulled off to the side of the road. People were shouting at me as they drove by, but I paid them no mind. Someone answered my call to the police department. "911. What is your emergency?"

"Get me Commissioner Gordon right away! It is urgent!" I replied in a rush. I found it was getting difficult to breathe. The operator put me on hold, and I stared at the radio as if it was a contaminated object.

"Well," Daniel answered Sammy, the pleasure in his voice, as if each of these memories were giving him immense satisfaction. "Well, she has such an expressionless face, so beautiful. How I long to see it distorted in fear…I want her to break, to cry until she can't cry anymore. I want her to spiral down so far that she cannot even remember her own name. I want to see that vulnerability exposed, so that I can rip it apart and throw away the pieces. And that is just how I feel when I see her face."

My heart froze. Oh Jesus…And he wasn't going to rest until he had accomplished all of that, I was sure of it. Rapidly, a sense of helplessness overtook me. That was my end. That is what I had to look forward to in life: the crumbling of my own mind, until I was nothing more than a toy for Daniel to toss away after I broke. The Asylums couldn't hold him, the police couldn't track him…The only way I could be rid of him is if he…

Died.

I don't know why, but the image of his dead body, eyes blank and unstaring, sent a thrill of chills up and down my spine. And not the bad kind either. Why was that?

I would have to ponder this question later, because Sammy started sputtering, her voice no longer chipper, "Well, um…sir, I do not thing that this is appropriate conversation for the radio. I'm sorry, but we are going to have to cut you off…"

He continued on, feverishly, as if he hadn't heard her. "And when she bleeds! You can see the pain in her eyes. You know she can feel it, but she won't show it. She just…" he sounded frustrated and gave up on trying to explain himself. "Well, it doesn't matter, because she will show me hurt. She will cry, soon. I'll make sure of it. And then…" They had obviously cut him off. Sammy started apologizing profusely to the audience about what they had heard.

The Commissioner's voice was in my ear, asking who it was. I wondered subconsciously how long he had been talking. I jolted, and the words flooded out of my mouth. Maybe he could do something before it is too late…"Commissioner! It's Dr. Dawn. It's Daniel, he's on the radio, talking to someone named Sammy." My voice was frantic. "Station 95.7. He's going to do something! Get someone down to the radio station right away!"

"Wait, slow down…" the Commissioner started, but I didn't hear whatever he had to say, for I had dropped the phone.

Because on the radio, the panicked voice of Sammy was shouting, "How did you get in here?!" And then there was a loud crash and Sammy started yelling, "Get away from me!" Her tone had grown a curious edge. I froze when I heard another voice in the background.

"You cut me off! I wasn't…done…talking…yet!" the furious voice of Daniel shrieked, and each of those pauses was accompanied by a loud thump as fist met flesh. Sammy cried out, her once beautiful voice distorted in pain. Static blurred the station for a second, and then Daniel's voice was clear. But worse were the whimpers of Sammy, her ragged breathing, and choked bawling. The poor girl couldn't be over nineteen, and was quite possibly going to die.

All because of me.

Daniel continued, his voice calm once more. "So as I was saying, I just want to break that exterior she has. Would it kill her to show me a little fear? Something? Actually, it probably would. You know, I don't know if I will kill her yet. It all depends. You see," there was a little, sharp noise that would have been almost unrecognizable, if it had not haunted my nightmares for years: the flick of a switchblade. Sammy cried out again, her tone thick with agony. It was blood curdling. "You see, I've only ever heard her scream once, even through those blissful two weeks. That was when I killed him. I still don't understand why she was so upset. I mean, it is so obvious that we were meant for each other. But I will tell you now, it was the most beautiful scream I have ever heard. It was like I was getting a peek at her soul. It was just so perfect. I would kill to hear it again. And you know what the irony of it all is? I will probably have to. Irony is such a wonderful term, isn't it?" When Sammy did nothing but weep like a wounded animal, his calm words transformed into a fit of rage, "ISN'T IT?!" Sammy let out a piercing howl and there was a simultaneous sickening crack, then the radio was wracked with heaving sobs. My fists were clenched so hard that my nails had bit into my skin. I barely felt it. Daniel sighed, as if everyone around him was incompetent. "I know you're there, pet. You forget, I know you. You are sitting in your car, on your way home from work, listening in horror as to what is going on. You probably had enough foresight to call the police!" He barked a humorless laugh. "I'm sure you have something to say. You always did. Why don't you call? I'll give you the number. I'm dying to talk to you after all these years. Well actually, Sammy here is dying so that I can talk to you. Ironic, no?"

He proceeded in announcing the number for the station several times, and even though I didn't want to, my mind memorized it. With shaking hands, I slowly reached down and grabbed my phone, where is still lay open. The dial tone was blaring. The Commissioner had hung up on me.

Without any awareness as to what I was doing, I found myself dialing in the numbers, which kept repeating themselves in my thoughts. Daniel's voice immediately answered, and I heard him in my ear as well as the radio. "Well hello pet, long time no hear." He was unbearably self-satisfied. "I had hoped to get your attention. Did you see what I did with Ms. Rayne? I'm betting you liked that one."

I waited until I was sure my voice would be strong. I couldn't let him see how his presence, even over the phone, terrified me. He would feed off it, like a shark in frenzy. "Daniel, you are never going to get it." I let my tone loosen to exasperation; I couldn't allow him think I was impressed by what he has done. "Killing people isn't going to help you understand me. You are never going to understand me. I had hoped you had grasped that during those two weeks. So let it go."

Daniel became furious. "No, you don't understand. I had you! When I made you watch while I killed him, I saw you start to crack! I saw it! I will break you, pet! I will!"

There was a moment of tense silence, leaving only Sammy's whimpering to fill it. "How does it feel, to know that you aren't safe? That at any moment, I might turn up and destroy whatever semblance of a life you had built up and then create one for us, together? Does it make you afraid?" he provoked, the edge of hysteria in his voice.

I was careful not to let my voice shake. "No Daniel, I am not. I will never fear you. I will hate you, I will be disgusted by you, but I will never fear you."

There was a sickening crack and Sammy's sobbing stopped abruptly. The stillness was deafening. "Yes you will, pet," he promised, his tone dark. "Yes you will."

I didn't have anything to say to that, so I flipped my phone shut. Daniel's voice on the radio seemed disheartened. "Aww, it seems we've lost our caller. How bout a song? This one is for you pet. It's our song."

I knew what he was going to play before the notes reached my ears.

You are an obsession, I cannot sleep

I am a possession unopened at your feet

There is no balance, no equality

Be still I will not accept defeat

I will have you, yes I will have you

I will find a way and I will have you

Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly

I will collect you and capture you

You are an obsession, you're my obsession

Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me?

You are an obsession, you're my obsession

Who do you want me to be to make you sleep with me?

I feed you, I drink you by day and by night

I need you, I need you by sun or candlelight

You protest, you want to leave

You say there's no alternative

I will have you, yes I will have you

I will find a way and I will have you

Like a butterfly, a wild butterfly

I will collect you and capture you

It was at the end of the song that I realized that I had the power to shut it off. I seemed like hours that I simply stared at the windshield numbly; unable to accept that was ultimately because of me that two women were dead. It was my entire fault. Daniel would never be stopped. People would continue to die until either he or I met our end.

And it sure as hell wasn't going to be me.

Suddenly, I became furious. I have no idea where the rage came from, only that it consumed me so thoroughly that I couldn't bring myself to care what the source was. Daniel was going to die, and I didn't give a damn how.

My phone started vibrating, and I hesitantly looked at the caller ID. It was the Commissioner. I answered, and his frantic orders greeted me. "Dr. Dawn, you need to get home right away. Daniel has escaped. It is possible that he is going to come after you and…" Of course he escaped; should I have expected anything different? The police were merely like bugs on Daniel's windshield, irritating but don't keep him from driving on. Occasionally, he has to stop and wipe their guts off his glass, but they didn't deserve a second thought.

My tone was stoic as I replied, "Yes Commissioner. I will go home immediately." Without waiting for a response, I flipped my phone shut and shifted my car into drive. I sped onto the fast lane, ignoring the honks of angry cars. But I wasn't headed in the direction of my home. No, I had turned facing the Asylum.

There was someone I needed to talk to.

For full lyrics to the song, it is called "Obsession" by Animotion