"You..."

This was all Leila's brain could manage to force out of her mouth. Across from her, the Joker's head tilted to one side, his eyes squinted and his lips tightened in the opposite direction as he bit down on the inside of his cheek. One of his black gloved fingers pointed at her while he turned into the kitchen, disappearing momentarily from view until he reappeared through the breakfast bar.

"No, you," he countered, his clowny voice filling her with another, more palpable layer of dread. "You are one hard lady to get a hold of, ya know that?" The otherwise silent apartment was suddenly filled with bangs and clanking of silverware as the Joker yanked open different drawers throughout the kitchen, obviously looking for something. Leila watched him, remaining speechless, not necessarily by choice, but rather because she just could not believe that this horrific idea she had been trying to suppress for almost two weeks, had actually come true. All those nights, lying in bed, worrying, then talking herself down, assuring herself that nothing was going to happen, had been in vain. All the defensiveness against Matt and her father had been pointless. If only she had listened to them.

Abruptly, the terrorist's movement stopped, and his painted, ghostly face turned to glare back at her over his broad shoulder as he reached out to open a cabinet. His black eyes bounced up and down her figure once before he returned to his search of the kitchen.

"I'll admit, my first few..." He paused to wiggle a few fingers in the air beside him, searching for a word. "attempts, were a little hit or miss..." He turned again, this time fully to face her, and placed both of his hands on the counter, staring at her through the breakfast bar across the room. A horrid smile cracked his painted face. "But I figured it out. And now, here you are...and here I am."

Leila was hardly listening to his words as she gaped, open-mouthed at him from the other side of the apartment. Any moment now, he was going to launch himself at her, pull a knife or gun from a pocket, stab her, shoot her, cover her nose and mouth with a chloroform-soaked rag. She would wake up in some locked and windowless room, helpless, to be tortured, raped and played with, until eventually, she would die there at the hands of this man. It was truly all of her worst fears crammed into a simple, one bedroom apartment.

The Joker watched with narrowed, amused eyes, smirking at her as though he had been reading her mind, and vaguely, through the numb sense of panic flooding her brain, she somehow managed to register the radio clipped to the pocket of her pants. The police were only three stories below on the street, and in an instant, she could have them on their way upstairs to save her from this terror. But what were the chances that she could survive long enough for them to reach her? Surely the Joker would make some effort to prevent her from taking such an action and Leila could only imagine what that might entail. She had to try, regardless of the repercussions.

Without pausing or even taking a second to formulate a way to reach for it without him noticing, her hand twitched almost instinctively toward the device. Of course, the very moment her body betrayed her, the Joker stood up from leaning on the counter, once again pointing a loose finger at her as he rounded the corner into the living room. Leila remained perfectly still, as though she was standing down a lion; no sudden movements or eye contact.

"Ah, ah," His singsong, raspy voice floated to her ears like knives on a chalkboard. He was shaking his head slowly so that the lank strands of fading green hair swung against the sides of his face. "This is a party for just you and me, Miss. Hawkin. It would be a shame for anyone else to ruin it." His tone had dropped an entire level in pitch, like a song sung purposely out of tune. He was approaching, closing the distance between them, his broad shoulders hunched slightly, his footfall barely making a sound as he crossed the carpet toward her, like a predator hunting his prey. Leila's body once again disclosed her fear by forcing her to take a shaky half-step back toward the sliding glass, thinking perhaps, if she was quick enough, she could unlock balcony door, open it, and scream down to the street below for help.

As these thoughts passed through her mind, Leila noticed something of a curious, somewhat delighted twinkle appear behind the Joker's black eyes, where the deep circles of makeup tightened around the pinpricks that were his soulless pupils. To her horror, he let out a laugh, motioning toward the balcony door beyond her while his lips gave a sickening smack.

"I guarantee I can pull a knife out of my pocket faster than you can unlock that door," he growled, as though he had been listening in on her thoughts from seconds before. Again, his tone bounced back upward into that annoyingly clowny decibel, where every word seemed to be laced with laughter. "But if you'd like to try it, go right ahead!"

As the Joker burst into suppressed giggles, Leila finally found her tongue, at last feeling her body unlock in a certain sense, to where her nerves seemed to unfreeze and begin firing synapses with record speed. Her hands were shaking, whether from fear that her worst nightmare had come to life, or anger from this cruel man's mocking tone, she was not sure. Swallowing hard on the lump in her throat, she opened her mouth, hoping against all hope that her voice would sound more confident than she felt.

"What are you doing here?" A cringe of disgust nearly overtook her face when she realized what a stupid question she had asked. The Joker seemed to agree with her as he let out a bark of a laugh, tossing his head slightly as he began circling her, passing on her left, staring down at her, studying her from all directions.

"I thought we had already covered that," came the devil's quiet voice from her shoulder, where Leila could feel him drawing closer to her. "I needed to get you alone so-"

Leila closed her eyes, clenching her hands into fists at her sides when she felt her ponytail move against her back, heard the soft sliding of her hair through leather as the Joker threaded his fingers through it. This was truly her worst possible dream come true. It felt almost as though she had been thrust headfirst into a nightmare and that any minute, she was going to wake up in her bed, safe at home. She could only pray that this would be the case. As her panicked and frazzled mind caught up with what the Joker had said, things finally began clicking into place and her body started to fill with a wave of sickening anger that felt rather out of place, given the danger of her current situation. Though, upon reflecting back to years prior, she noticed that anger was a usual close successor to fear in Leila's range of emotions.

Terror pierced her the moment she sensed him pause behind her, a shadow at her back ready to pounce at any moment. Every instinct was telling her to flee, get out and run for her life, but she was frozen in place, the tremors of fear tingling through her limbs. As she felt his breath crawl across the top of her head like a hot breeze, the unspoken ending to his last words filled her head with horrific images. It was too quiet. Despite all the ambient noise from outside, the room seemed to be deathly silent, her only focus being the terrorist lurking behind her. This ominous peace only served to highlight the sound of the Joker inhaling deeply through his nose against the tightened hair beneath the elastic holding her ponytail in place. He was breathing in her scent, tasting her fear through the pheromones her body was producing, and she couldn't suppress the shudder that racked her body as she felt him exhale so close to her skin, his own foul scent permeating the air. His intent was clear, a blatant invasion of her personal space. He wanted her to understand that he could control her fear through his uncomfortable proximity. Leila hated that it was working, and that realization was enough to piss her off. Her eyes opened and she knew they flashed the rage that had flooded to the surface once more.

"Wait..." she began, gritting her back teeth together. "You...you stabbed that man," she murmured, her voice trembling slightly. The hold on her hair was released, his demonic energy shifted, moving around her right side to complete his circle, and he stood in front of her again. She shook her head in disbelief as the past week's events came rushing back and that anger bubbled at the pit of her stomach. "You gave that guy a heart attack and you...you set that building on fire?!" she shouted at him, without the slightest shred of fear, her indignation and rage at such heartless actions so severe that she was perfectly incapable of feeling any other emotion at the moment. Across from her, the Joker's intense gaze broke into a broad, satisfied smile. His gloved hands met together with a smack of leather on leather.

"Yep!" he exclaimed proudly. Leaning toward her, he nodded his head in the direction of the window over her shoulder, suddenly lowering his voice to something barely above a whisper. "And, I tossed our 'little' friend over the balcony there too."

A moment of stunned silence passed between them, where Leila bristled with anger, and the Joker cringed, as though bracing for her reaction, before-

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!"

He shrugged. "I didn't have your phone number," came his answer, spoken nonchalantly as if he had commented on the weather. Leila's jaw went slightly slack as the Joker turned away from her again, disappearing into the bedroom to begin going through the contents of his latest victim's closet, yanking apart the hangers to look at each item of clothing. Leila took a step forward, to turn and stand in the doorway to the bedroom, determined to keep him within her line of sight. "I tried 911 at first, but-" he paused to let out another giggle as he glanced back at her over his shoulder. "-but they said you weren't available." His words preceded yet more laughter.

Despite the absurdity of his previous comments, Leila did not feel able to remark on this, but instead gritted her teeth. "What do you want from me?" she asked, feeling truly sick to her stomach when she imagined the sort of answer he was about to give. Across the room at the closet, the Joker turned, clapping his gloved hands together once as he took a few steps toward her. Leila watched him approach, unable to help from noticing how very tall he appeared when not surrounded by a hoard of SWAT team officers; he had to stand at least six foot four.

"Yes, right to the point. I like that," he said, grinning so widely, it appeared that his scars could peel right off of his face. Leila struggled not to stare at his horrid disfiguration, and instead dropped her eyes to the top button of his dirty, perhaps once blue shirt, almost as though making eye contact with him would cause her physical pain. "I have a bit of a..." Leila chanced a glance upward at his face when his voice hesitated, only to find that he had licked his lips and was now squinting off into space, searching for the perfect word. "...Let's call it a job offer, hm?"

At these words, Leila could not stop herself from looking directly up at him, her confusion and surprise at his answer making the action impossible to resist. A frown furrowed her eyebrows. "A job offer?" she repeated him. The Joker nodded once, hard, sending his greasy hair flying into his face, where some of the smaller strands stuck to his makeup.

"A job offer." he said once again, and immediately Leila huffed, boldly rolling her eyes as she turned her back on him, figuring that if he had meant to hurt or kill her, he would have already done so by now. She moved away toward the bag of equipment on the floor near the sliding glass.

"Sorry, but I'm not interested," she answered in a more direct tone than she had intended. Something about the fact that he had injured so many people and destroyed so many lives just to get in touch with her was making her angry enough to abandon her sense of extreme caution around this man. "I already have a job and-" she began to go on further, her back still turned to him, but at that very moment, the Joker decided to make her situation more real to her than anything else had so far.

In an instant, his hands were on her, one grabbing her upper arm while the other took a fistful of hair into its grip, yanking her around to face him. Before Leila could stop herself, before she could even register what had happened, she was letting out a scream, squeezing her eyes shut as her body was thrown into a state of panic that she had not experienced for nearly six years. Suddenly she was not in an apartment, but in a dark and hazy dorm room, against a wall, booze-laced breath blowing across her face. She winced, struggling to move her only free hand, to grab him, hit him, slap him, do anything to get him away from her. Her knees attempted to crumble but the man gripping her held her body up straight, preventing her from sliding to the floor.

"Look at me."

This was not a request, but an order, and Leila gave no shred of a thought to disobeying. She opened her eyes to find herself chest to chest with her latest demon, whose black gaze now bouncing back and forth, up and down, all over her face, taking in everything about the display of terror currently etched into every feature there. Leila could not help but wonder if he was feeling perhaps a bit confused by her sudden turn in demeanor, and yet she knew beyond all shadow of a doubt that he was simply delighted by it. To her shock, he seemed to decide against commenting on this and instead raised his eyebrows, stretching the black, wrinkled rings around his eyes.

"You already have a job and yet you're about as broke as Mister Markenson's legs down there, am I right?" he asked, his gaze flickering back and forth between her slowly flooding brown eyes. "I know more about your...finances than I think you realize, so trust me when I say, you might want to reconsider my offer." Leila bit down hard on the inside of her bottom lip, practically holding her breath to prevent her tears from spilling down her cheeks. The Joker mercifully let go of her and held up a hand, where he ticked off one finger. Leila felt feeling flood back into her own fingers from where his grip had been impeding circulation.

"I'm offering you fifteen thousand a month, in cash, to be my personal medic," he began. Leila blinked. struggling to ignore the way her stomach jumped excitedly at the sound of that amount of money. "That means, when I call for help, no matter what it is, you come a-runnin' to my aid with your little bag of goodies. You don't get sick days, you don't get time off, and you certainly don't get to quit. But let's face it, to a poor little church mouse like you?" He paused to laugh again, a bit of that malicious twinkle returning to his eyes. "Fifteen grand sounds like pretty fair compensation for a job like that."

A soft crackling of static caused Leila to jump with another squeak of fright, as though someone had fired a gun next to her head.

"Hawkin, what's up? You got somebody up there?" Jay's voice asked.

Leila let out a gasp, her eyes widening; the magnitude of her situation had caused her to forget entirely that she was still working her current job and was supposed to be searching for a second victim. Her mouth opened slightly in shock as the Joker took a step away from her, tossing out his arms to both sides before allowing them to slap against his legs. He nodded his head in the direction of the radio.

"Tell him no and that you're coming back downstairs," he instructed. Leila blinked. He wasn't going to pull out a gun and hold it to her head, force her to come with him? He was going to let her go, knowing full well that she could run straight to the police, and tell them everything that had just happened? This made absolutely no sense to her, but instead of wasting time asking questions and putting Jay's life at risk by giving him cause to come upstairs to check on her, she hastily fumbled for the radio, clearing her throat before speaking.

"Uh, no, Jay," she answered firmly, keeping her eyes focused on the Joker's narrowed gaze. "There's no one up here. I'm headed back down."

A moment passed before Jay's voice came again."Ten-four."

Holding the radio at her side, Leila watched as the Joker reached into the inside pocket of his gray jacket, before producing a single joker playing card. He handed it to her, grinning as he began taking backwards steps away from her, toward the closed door to the apartment on the other side of the room.

"You have twenty-four hours to think it over," he said, but then wagged a finger and squinted at her in a mockingly stern way, once again displaying his knack for switching his demeanor with dizzying rapidity. "If I don't hear from you by this time tomorrow night, I'm gonna assume you called the cops and...well, I won't be very happy about that, will I?"

As Leila stood there, shocked and overwhelmed, she watched him open the door, ready to step out into the hallway. Before he could do this however, she found herself calling out after him instinctively.

"What if I refuse?" she asked, wondering vaguely what sort of fresh madness had possessed her to ask this. The Joker turned, another hideous grin splitting his face as he hesitated in the doorway, baring a set of strait, yet slightly yellow teeth.

"You won't." Only two words sufficed as his answer before he left her one unnervingly creepy wink, and with that, he was gone, as quickly and silently as he had appeared.

During her rushed journey down the stairs, Leila could not stop herself from peering back over her shoulder every few seconds, waiting for the fateful sound of a stairwell door opening, or brown shoes approaching behind her. She could not believe nor understand how she had escaped that situation with her life, but at the moment, she was simply glad to be walking down these stairs of her own volition and not being dragged down them by force or otherwise. Hopefully Matt and Jay would not ask too many questions about the length of her trip upstairs; her brain was barely able to function under the weight of everything that had occurred.

The nighttime air beyond the confines of the apartment building was so different in its density that Leila nearly felt lightheaded upon stepping out onto the curb, taking a deep breath of it to fill her lungs. It was as though she had been suddenly given back her ability to breathe after having been subjected to the thick, oppressively evil atmosphere within apartment 305. Hoping to keep a very calm, normal look on her face as she approached the waiting ambulance, she inhaled several deep breaths of it, in an effort to purge the scent of gasoline and death from her senses. Matt was leaning out of the truck, a strange look on his face as he watched her drawing closer. Was his expression one of suspicion? Concern? Or was Leila perhaps feeling a bit paranoid? She hastily tried to recall another time in recent history when she had seen this look on his face, to compare it to the one there now for reference.

"You took forever," he stated, reaching out for the heavy bag of equipment, to give Leila both hands with which to hoist herself up into the ambulance. John Markenson was already in place along the stretcher, his neck strapped into a large yellow brace and his body bound to the board. Leila spared him a glance as she passed on her way to the jump seat, feeling a sensation of the utmost pity flow through her, and she wondered how unbelievably scared this poor man must have felt upon seeing the Joker enter his apartment. She felt she could identify with him.

The doors to the ambulance slammed shut, the sirens came to life as she leaned back in the seat, exhaling heavily as she pushed a strand of her hair away from her face as nonchalantly as possible. She chanced another glance at the victim on the stretcher. Fortunately, despite his eyes being open, he seemed to be in too much pain to give any explanation of who had thrown him over the balcony; Leila did not feel she had the emotional or physical strength to contend with Matt's questioning.

The inside of the ambulance was heavily silent as Leila stared at a random bolt on the leg of the stretcher with her eyes slightly widened. Her heart rate had mercifully returned to normal, the chills along her arms had receded and she was wondering what she could say to break the silence, tear her thoughts away from everything that had happened when Matt's voice nearly caused her to jump.

"What gives?" he asked quietly. Leila blinked, pulling her gaze up to look over at him and allow her eyebrows to furrow in a forcefully innocent manner.

"What do you mean?" she countered, shrugging her shoulders to boost the casual facade she had created. Matt's arms tossed as he leaned toward her slightly.

"You're about as white as your mom right now," he murmured, grinning when Leila grunted a halfhearted laugh at his feeble joke, bringing her hand up to rake her fingernails into the frizzy roots of her hair.

"I'm fine, just tired," she lied. "I had to run all over that building. His apartment door was locked so I had to go find the super to open it." Another shrug raised and lowered her shoulders.

Her answer seemed to satisfy Matt for the time being as he nodded and leaned back against the bench seat, reaching out one hand to feel the pulse at Mister Markenson's wrist. Leila watched him do this, fighting against the sick, sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Lying had never been particularly difficult for her, but she absolutely hated doing it to those select people she cared most for. Though she made herself believe this lie was in Matt's best interest.

After reaching the hospital and transferring their patient to the care of the emergency room staff, the ambulance was finally on its way back to fire house fourteen. The time was rapidly approaching midnight and the team was more than ready for their shift to be over, though Leila felt her reason for wanting to be home might have been the slightest bit more severe than anything Matt or Jay could come up with. As the truck pulled into the bay and came to a halt, Matt was the first to climb down, though as Leila followed him and turned to unlatch the stretcher, to pull it down for cleaning, he reached out, sighing heavily as he patted her on the shoulder.

"Go on home, rookie. Jay and I can handle this," he said, nodding his head toward the door to the fire house when Leila turned to look up at him. He grinned warmly. "You look dead on your feet."

To this, Leila gave another fake laugh, but could not help thinking how very accurate his words were. Leila could so easily have still been lying on the floor in that apartment, surrounded by a team of police officers, and her teammates, all wondering why she hadn't called immediately for help, or why the Joker had decided to take her life. The thought of this sent another chilling drop of fear throughout her warm, flowing blood. She was alive, very much so according to her heart, which had just palpitated painfully at the inside of her chest as though struggling to remind her that it was still beating, that her life had been spared...for the time being. Remembering that Matt was looking over at her expectantly, she nodded, sighing heavily as she turned away.

"Thanks," she answered him finally. "I'll see you guys on Friday." Hopefully.

The traffic lights between the firehouse and Leila's apartment might as well have been invisible for all the notice she took of their color. Upon approaching a red light, she had slowed down a few yards from the intersection, leaned forward slightly and after seeing that there were no cars approaching nor police officers nearby, she floored the gas pedal and sped ahead. Stopping the car for more than a minute did not seem like a good idea. All she wanted was to launch herself into her apartment and curl up in a ball in the shower, attempt to wash away the grimy, disgusting sensation still crawling along her skin. It might have been her imagination, she was not entirely sure, but Leila fancied her clothes still reeked of gasoline. Perhaps she could burn her uniform shirt, pretend she had lost it and ask for a new one at work on Friday.

Once her car had been parked, Leila abandoned all semblance of appearing calm and broke into a literal run at the door leading from the garage into her apartment building. Her body was aching as though she had been thrown repeatedly against a wall, but her current state of open panic was making this exhaustion all but nonexistent, the adrenaline serving as some sort of natural steroid. Familiar doors flew past her as she raced along the hallway leading to her unit and only once she had reached the door bearing the numbers '612' did she stop running. Her key was already out, held at the ready in her shaking hand.

Hunger was not an issue for Leila that night. She already felt queasy and nauseated enough, even on an empty stomach, so the thought of eating something was enough to make her feel physically ill. Nevertheless, she had paused in the kitchen for a glass of water and to double check that Murphy's bowl had food before disappearing into her bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her as she went.

The water in the shower was running, it was hot, Leila was already stripped completely naked and yet there she stood, leaned against the counter, staring at the falling streams of steamy water, her eyes widened. Behind her, in the midst of her discarded clothing, sat a single playing card, a white piece of plastic coated paper, on which a black, laughing joker had been printed, the tail of the demon curled in on itself as the creature clutched its ribs. Seven numbers had been scrawled sloppily in red permanent marker along the top of the card, accompanied by the words, 'ask for', followed by an arrow pointing at the vertical name along the far edge of the card. 'JOKER'

During her frantic run down the stairwell at the apartment building of John Markenson, Leila had hastily tucked the card into her bra against her left breast, thinking at the time that the chances were too great of the card falling out of her pocket for Matt or Jay to find. She had felt she could not take the risk in losing the life-threateningly important phone number or put her family and teammates lives at stake by misplacing it. In the following minutes between the ride from the hospital to the firehouse, then to her apartment, Leila had been so concerned with simply getting home alive that she had nearly forgotten the thing was even there. It was only once she had undressed and the card had fallen out that she remembered.

Snippets of the scene from the apartment were flashing through her mind in rapid succession. First, she was walking upstairs as a normal part of her job, then she was slowly turning around, bracing for her death as the Joker closed and locked the apartment door behind her. She was being grabbed, forced to turn and face him, he was smelling her, sizing her up, drinking her in, watching as she let out a sob, flinching, even though he had not yet raised a hand to strike her...

In the present, Leila let out a soft moan, her eyes stinging as tears amassed there. The panic, the fear and outright terror she had experienced that night was something she had not felt in nearly six years. The thought of it, the mere shadow of those sensations made the occurrence at college, in her dorm room, as fresh as though it had happened hours ago. The skin along her arms and at the back of her neck tingled, as though Shawn was standing right there, holding her, gripping her drunkenly as he breathed hot, vaporized alcohol breath across her face.

But this...this was worse, almost more traumatic in a way. After that fateful night, Leila never had to see him again. She had gone straight to the campus police, reported him and although nothing was done about the incident, Leila's father, her savior in many ways, had withdrawn her from school and brought her home to finish out her last four semesters at Gotham University. It truly seemed as though this one, ten minute encounter with her worst nightmare had dug up the most terrifying, dark time in her life and Leila could not help but wonder if the Joker was conscious of this or perhaps even intended it.

…...

"I'm glad you made the team, rookie!" Matt exclaimed, clapping a nervous but excited Leila on the back as she stepped up into the ambulance of firehouse 14 for the first time. "I've been telling Jay for the longest time that we needed a girl around."

The bald-headed, more seasoned paramedic, Jay, rounded the corner, holding out a box of latex gloves, smiling warmly at their newest coworker. "Yeah, we've found that females make better decisions in the more critical situations. So welcome aboard, and...try not to let Matt talk your ear off, okay?"

Leila laughed, glancing at the young man seated on the bench seat. He frowned, his lightly stubbled cheeks reddening slightly. "I only talked to you all the time because there was no one else! Now that I have Leila to keep me company back here, you'll be all alone in the front seat, sittin' there like a sad dope 'cause nobody likes you." While Jay let out a laugh, Leila noticed Matt's eyes flicker over to her briefly. "Plus, you'll be all upset because you're not the prettiest girl on the team anymore, Jay."

At this, Leila struggled not to roll her eyes; she had been expecting this sort of line at some point, but certainly not so early into her first shift. She struggled to resist the burning in her cheeks and was hoping she would not be forced to make a comment when mercifully, Jay stepped in.

He nodded in her direction, raising his eyebrows. "Careful, Matt, that sounds a lot like a harassment suit in the making," he warned, grinning in a playfully mischievous way as Matt's smile suddenly fell and his head whipped toward Leila. She could not help but laugh at the look of concern on his face, but shook her head all the same, holding up her hand.

"Don't worry," she assured him with a comforting smirk. "It's fine. I know what a joke is." Matt seemed to deflate in relief, his expression melted into relaxation, but across from them, Jay was letting out a loud 'tut'.

"I meant me!" he exclaimed, tossing his hands. "Keep talkin' like that, Matt, and I'll talk to the superiors about filing a suit." With that, he walked away huffily, his arms folded resolutely across his chest, leaving Leila to laugh and Matt to shake his head with a heavy roll of his eyes.

"Jay and I joke and bicker a lot but we really look out for each other, ya know?" he said a few moments later, turning to his left to push the new box of gloves into the compartment over his shoulder. "And now that you're part of the team, we'll look out for you too," he turned back to face her, holding up two fingers with a kind smile. "Scout's honor."

Leila's exhausted, itchy eyes stared listlessly at the ceiling high above her bed as she reflected on the past year of her life. Her sleep had been restless, punctuated by horrible dreams that caused her to wake with a gasp and left her to lie there, tossing and turning, unable to stay still. On the whole, she had only managed about three hours of solid rest, which she supposed was something of a miracle in and of itself, though she was currently feeling more tired and cranky than ever. The thought of the seemingly insurmountable, terrifying task before her did not exactly help. Turning her head toward the nightstand on her right, she reached out for her phone, lifting it from its place to read the time. '10:38am'

Only twelve hours left before a decision had to be made.

After brushing her teeth and emphatically avoiding the joker card still lying in the midst of her clothes on the bathroom counter, Leila found herself standing in the kitchen, staring down into the perfectly almond-shaped, bright yellow eyes of Murphy. His gray fluffy tail swished across the hardwood floor as he blinked up at her, waiting on tenterhooks for her to lean down and either scratch him lovingly along his cheek or pour food into his bowl. Both forms of affection were equally great to him, from what Leila could gather. After an impatient mew, Leila turned toward the pantry and leaned down to open the bag of dry cat food, but felt her heart sink when her hand traveled clear to the bottom, where only a few bowlfuls of kibble remained, rattling around pathetically. She pushed firmly past the tears that threatened to gather and filled Murphy's bowl.

"I'll go to the store tomorrow, buddy, I promise," she told him lovingly, running her hand along his back as he immediately began to eat. She may have been poor, but she would sooner let herself go hungry than force her cat to go without.

The day seemed to disappear before Leila's eyes at an alarmingly fast rate. One minute she was standing in the living room, trying to decide if she felt like pretending to watch a movie or begin scrubbing the smell of gasoline out of her uniform, the next, she was in the kitchen attempting to convince herself she wanted to eat lunch. What happened to breakfast? That never ending, ever growing pile of bills on the dining table was once again calling her, but Leila did not feel she possessed the necessary physical or emotional strength to do work on it. Fifteen thousand dollars would sure help...

"No, Leila. Stop it."

She said these words aloud to herself several times throughout the day. No amount of money would ever be enough for her to agree to help the man who had ruined so many lives, killed so many people. And yet he expected her to take fifteen thousand in cash for her to help save his life, if the situation were to arise? It was impossible, stupid of him to even begin to assume that sort of bribe would work on her, when she was perfectly happy with the life she already had, the job she was currently working. She was supposed to throw all that away and commit to aiding a terrorist? The idea was almost laughable were it not so horrifying.

"But let's face it, to a poor little church mouse like you? Fifteen grand sounds like pretty fair compensation for a job like that."

Leila sighed, leaning her head against the back of the couch. As much as she hated to admit it, the Joker had been right. Fifteen thousand dollars did sound like a lot of money to her. It meant her bills would be paid, on time and in full every month. Murphy would never go without food, and neither would she for that matter. How many times had she settled herself to a simple peanut butter sandwich on the premise of 'Oh, I'm not that hungry', when it was really that she did not have much else to eat? She could go shopping, get her hair done, perhaps even her eyebrows too, or hell, go for a whole spa day all together! This life of luxury was tempting to say the least and Leila knew why.

Despite her father being one of the most prominent, reputable neurologists in the state and a man of considerable wealth, Leila had never been spoiled. Her father, Edward Hawkin, had come from a tragically poor family, and had been forced to work for nearly everything he owned, working two, sometimes three jobs to pay his way through college and medical school. So of course, he had expected Leila to do the same. No, he never let her go hungry or without the things she needed, like clothing or proper supplies for school, but anything she truly wanted more than anything, she had to work for. Her first car, for instance, had been paid for entirely by her first job, hostessing at a chain restaurant. So now that she was fully grown and living on her own, Leila felt that this way of life, the way she had been raised, could not change. Anything she wanted, she worked for. Though as of late, her working had not led to anything beyond anxiety over whether or not her power would remain on or her hot water would continue to work or Murphy would have food or-

Her forehead met her hands and she sighed into them, her breath warm against her face. Who was she kidding? Fifteen thousand dollars would save her life, and she hated to think how literal that statement was. The Joker did not seem like the type to let her simply refuse his offer without there being some sort of terrible repercussions. If she were to say no, she could only imagine that this would put not only her life at stake, but the lives of those people she most cared for- her father, her mother, Jay, and Matt and their families as well. Perhaps it would truly be smarter of her to accept his offer, play along with his little game. I mean, how many times can the guy get injured? I might only have to help him every once in a while...

This same cyclical, internal conversation lasted throughout the day, though Leila noticed the tone was changing gradually from more on the 'con' side of the argument, toward the 'pro' half, until she actually caught herself thinking through all the things she would like to buy. Upon realizing what she was doing, she attempted to stem the budding excitement at the thought of going into the grocery store and being able to stock her fridge to overflowing, but found that she was unable to do so. It was no use trying to talk herself out of it anymore. Her financial situation was getting too serious and one fleeting glance at an unpaid bill on her table was enough to finally make the decision for her. She needed help and she was about to get it.

At five o'clock, Leila took a deep breath, rocking her head to both sides to crack her neck, as if preparing for a physical altercation, and she stood from her couch, to march into her bathroom. The Joker's card was exactly where she had left it the previous day, but as she reached out for it, her fingers faltered, curling in on her palm as though reacting reflexively to the negative energy attached to it. Did she really want to do this? Was she really signing her soul over to the devil for money? Yes, she was. And if she didn't do it now, she would likely change her mind and regret it for the rest of her life...however short that would turn out to be.

Pushing past her moment of hesitation, she picked up the card, grabbed her phone and plopped down on the edge of her bed, once again inhaling slowly through her nose to steady her nerves. The seven red numbers were dialed into her phone, and for several moments, she sat there, staring at the green button on the touch screen. It was now or never.

The phone rang only once before an unfamiliar, gruff male voice answered.

"Name?"

Leila frowned, caught off guard. She had been steeling herself to hear the clowny, taunting voice of the Joker through the phone, but had to admit, she was glad he had not been the one to answer. This momentary sidetrack gave her another few seconds to prepare herself or otherwise change her mind.

"Uh...Leila H-Hawkin?" she stammered awkwardly, picking anxiously at a corner of the playing card in her hand. There was a pause on the other end of the call.

"Hold on."

There was a distinct sound of dialing, the beeps through the speaker indicating that this particular number she had been given had been set up as a middle-man, a sort of 'phone bouncer' to prevent unwanted callers from reaching the Joker directly. Leila could not deny that she was slightly impressed by their security measures. Seven digits were dialed, before another faint ringing came through the phone. It rang only twice before-

"Hellllllooooo?"

That was the voice she had been expecting. Goosebumps rose up all along her arms. She closed her eyes.

"Boss, I got a Leila Hawkin callin' for ya," said the gruff voice. There was another pause, followed by the Joker's delighted hum.

"Oh, what a delightful surprise," he said, his voice bouncing through intervals and octaves. There was a faint click of a phone being hung up, and suddenly, Leila and the Joker were alone once again. She heard him lick his lips and her stomach churned. "So, my little church mouse, calling in early I see. Have we made a decision?" Even with only the sound of his voice, Leila could tell he was grinning; she could hear it as plainly as if he was standing right in front of her. She swallowed hard.

"I'll do it."

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A/N: Sooooooo sorry for the longer-than-usual wait, dearies! Had a few distractions, (i.e.- my birthday, new job, housework, etc.) but the good news is that the next chapter will DEFINITELY be out sooner than the previous one! So I'd like to thank ALL of you for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting this story as I am having a BLAST writing it! And just a reminder, if you'd like to see pictures of the characters (I have one of Joker and Leila together donchakno?), get updates and 'behind the scenes' info on the inner workings of this story, please feel free to either contact me through email, PM or, most preferably, add me on facebook under my fanfiction profile. Just search for 'Haven Queenofmean Hunter' and there I'll be! You can't miss it. I look forward to hearing from you! Again, thanks so much to all of you! See you next time! = ] -QoM