Hannah— Really? They're probably just dry, but if I really did make you cry, I guess I'm doing pretty well at the writing. Lol Here's more.

Naomi—You're falling behind my friend! LOL You should work on getting your chapter out so I can read it!

LS—Sorry, I almost made you throw up, but thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm so relieved that I got the Joker right. It was really hard.

Nocturnal Rose—I'm glad that you loved it. Yeah, poor, poor Martin! I didn't want to kill him, but it makes sense later. Trust me!

Johanna—What do you mean "How could you?" What did I do? Here's the update, I hope that it was soon enough.

Sabre—Interesting is better than bad. Here's the next chapter.

Bmangaka—Yeah, I know that it's sad!

Blpaul—I'm glad that you like it! Yeah poor Alex; she is gonna be a mess for a while.

Haha21—I'm sorry that I forgot to reply to you last chapter. Also, thanks for the compliments. Okay, I see your point about everything. Here's my counter: Martin was going to die anyway, might as well get it over with. She didn't want to, but she realized that Martin was going to die; there was nothing she could do about it. About him coming alone, maybe he thought that it wasn't going to be that hard. They knew the strength of the Joker, but he always had helpers. Plus, he knew that the Joker wasn't actually expecting him to be there. He was trying to save her; be her knight in shining armor, remember? Trust me, this will make sense in later chapters. It's sorta like when Gordon went to save his family. He came alone. Things could've gone way out of hand. It's hard to explain.

Okay, here's the chapter! I'm still sick so forgive me if it's not as good as the other ones. I still kinda have a fever so that's why it took so long; it's really cold down by the computer. I'm coughing up storms, and I have a freakishly plugged nose. Plus, I gotta sore throat. It's not pleasant.

Dad squatted down beside me and tipped my chin up. "Alex, it's okay. I'm here." He smiled warmly at me.

I couldn't even manage a smile. "Daddy," I whimpered.

"Oh, Alex," he soothed. He pulled me close to him in a hug. I just laid my head on his chest, not daring to do anything else. He gently rubbed his hands along my back. "You're freezing!" he exclaimed.

I managed look up at him. "Naw really?! I've been in a tank top for about thirty minutes, and it's really cold." I laughed tensely. I was trying to act normal, but when my eyes caught sight of Martin, I buried my face in Dad's chest.

He let go of me and pulled his trench coat off and wrapped it around my shoulders. "There," he said. "That better?"

I nodded. "Thanks, Dad."

He glanced around before gently grabbing my arms and pulling me into a standing position. He wrapped me in his arms again. "Alex, I don't know what happened, but I'm sooo sorry, and I'm here now."

I glanced over at Martin's body. I felt sick, like I was going to throw up, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't pull my eyes off him. I blinked, but all I saw was his blank, glazed eyes staring at me. I felt the vomit rise in my mouth again.

Dad noticed me staring at Martin and pulled my face back to him. "There was nothing you could've done," he assured.

Yes, there was. I didn't have to kill him! I laid my head on his shoulder. This wasn't going to be easy.

Dad tipped my chin up, apparently having noticed the cut on the corner of my mouth. "He did this to you?"

I nodded, but jerked my head away. "It's not that bad," I protested, but he didn't believe it.

He shook his head. "It may not be bleeding, but you're still gonna get stitches for that." He touched it gently with his finger.

I flinched. It still stung like none other.

"Sorry." He let me out of his embrace and wrapped one arm around my shoulders and guided me to the outside.

I laid my head on his shoulder as he walked with me to the stairs. Unfortunately, we had to pass Martin's body. I stopped walking and stared down at him. The bleeding had long ago stopped, but the cuts were incredibly obvious. The gashes on his cheeks were the most hideous; they were jagged and skin kind of hung loosely. It was the line on his throat that made me the most sick. Suddenly, I had just a picture in my mind from my eyes: my hair was hanging down as I pulled the knife across his neck. I remembered that my hair was still down, but right then I didn't care. I doubled over and let the vomit come out of my mouth. I couldn't hold it back anymore. I was just so utterly disgusted with myself as well as the Joker.

Dad placed his hand on my back in silent comfort. I looked up at him with misty eyes and a little bit of vomit on my chin. I must have looked pretty pathetic, but Dad didn't crack a smile. He stared at me sadly from behind his glasses. I stood up straight to be hugged by my dad again. "It'll get better, Sweetie," he whispered in my ear. "Trust me on that." He didn't know anything about what happened, but I was going to trust him.

I nodded and he let me go and we continued our way down the stairs to the outside. Finally, we made it. I did throw up a couple times on the way down. I couldn't stand this anymore; I just wanted to go home, but I didn't want to go home at all. It was understandable.

There was one SWAT car there, about 10 patrol cars, a few unmarked cars with sirens on top, and an ambulance. Everyone was standing around waiting to go in. Dad had obviously wanted to go in first because it was me in there. When I walked out, there was a little bit of cheering from the guys at MCU. I smiled at them.

"Thanks guys!" I smiled. I still wasn't feeling that well, but maybe I could fake it for a little while.

One of Martin's SWAT members walked up to me. He was tall and wide. He looked like he had played football in college, and possibly high school. He had blonde hair that just a little bit longer than Martin's. He looked a lot more grown up than Martin, but they were actually the same age. I knew the guy by the name of Harry.

I rolled my eyes mentally, hoping that he wasn't going to ask about Martin, but I knew that he was. "What's up, Harry?" I feigned ignorance.

He had let his gun fall to side on the strap. "Don't do that, Al. You know exactly what's up." He gestured the blood on my hand and on my cheek: Martin's blood.

I lowered my head as I felt what could've been the entire universe being heaped upon my shoulders. "He's dead," I breathed. I waited in silence for a reaction, but there was none; only a question. I lied. "The Joker killed him." I felt incredibly sick, light-headed, and weak. I didn't want to lie, but I didn't want to hear myself say it, so I didn't. I felt tears come up in my eyes, but I fought them off. I walked away.

Wilson stood against the wall, watching me. I could see him out of the corner of my eye. I was pretty sure that he had heard my conversation with Harry because he smiled and pushed himself off the wall and approached me. "Alex, are you okay?" He nodded his head towards the cut on the side of my mouth.

I nodded. "I'm fine; just a little shaken up is all."

I think that he saw through my lies, but nodded none-the-less. He knew that I didn't want to talk about what happened. He leaned in awkwardly, and reluctantly. He wrapped his arms around me in a hug. "I know that this is different than our normal relationship, but you need it right now," he whispered in my ear.

I wrapped my arms around his back and felt Dad's jacket fall off my shoulders, but Wilson's arms held it on me. One of Wilson's hands gently meshed with the ends of my hair that still hung around my shoulders. I let go at seeing the EMTs coming out of the warehouse with a stretcher and a bodybag. Wilson let go too.

I stared blankly, clutching my dad's trench coat around me. I knew that it was Martin, and I just started trembling. I felt stares on the back of my head, and I knew that they all wanted to know what happened. I certainly couldn't tell them. I lowered my head as they lifted him into the back of the ambulance. I turned and walked to the shore. I stuck my arms through the sleeves of my dad's jacket and pulled my hair back in a ponytail. I looked out over the calm water, feeling the uneasiness in my stomach rise again. I threw up over the concrete barrier. I swallowed and sat on the concrete barrier with my head in my hands. I shuttered and trembled, but I still didn't cry. It was like I was completely numb from this, but apparently I wasn't.

I felt a hand on my back. The pressure on my shoulder got heavier and saw a pair of docker pants and dress shoes hit the concrete next to me. I didn't have to look up to know that it was my dad. "Al, I don't know what happened, but I can tell that there are some details that you're not telling me. I can tell that you don't want me to know, but when you need to, I'm here. I'm always listening." He moved his hand from my shoulder down to my knee. "It is gonna be okay, Alex. It just might take time. Don't beat yourself up about this."

Don't beat yourself up! Yeah right! I nodded.

"C'mon, Al," he urged, "you need to get that gash stitched up." He patted my leg and threw his legs over the concrete. I followed suit.

I followed Dad back to the ambulance and sat on the bumper as Dad went and grabbed one of the EMTs. They walked back to me. I was bouncing my leg on the concrete ground. The EMT smiled at me as he grabbed a needle and thread.

"Should only take one stitch, Sergeant," he commented as he poked the needle into my skin and pulled it through.

I flinched when he poked it in and when he tightened the string so that he could tie it off.

"You'll be able to take it off in about a month to be sure, at least two weeks." Swell. This wouldn't make eating difficult at all.

I nodded and slid off the ambulance. I walked over to Dad's car and slid into the passenger seat. I put my boots on the dash and curled up with my arms on my knees. I placed my forehead on my arms and closed my eyes. I knew that the scene wasn't completely finished, but all I wanted to do was get out of there. I wanted to lay down on a bed and go to sleep. Maybe I would even have a beer. Who knew? All I wanted to do was get out of this place. That was a sure fact.

I heard Dad slide into the driver's seat and close the door. He turned the key in the ignition and backed out of the warehouse parking area. The walkie-talkie in the car crackled loudly. I looked up. "Sorry," Dad commented as he leaned forward and turned to knob to shut it off.

I let my feet fall off the dash as I leaned against the window and peered up at Gotham's skyscrapers. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of the trench coat and closed my eyes, but as soon as I saw Martin, they shot back open. Okay, no sleep right now. I watched as all the buildings went into a blur. I saw a banner on the IA building for Harvey Dent. I rolled my eyes.

"You're quiet," Dad joked. I could picture him smiling as he looked over at me.

I stayed silent. I didn't particularly feel like talking right now.

He reached over and placed his hand on my knee. "I'm sorry. I know that he meant a lot to you."

I smiled, still staring out the window. I figured that Dad couldn't stand me not talking right now, so I decided that I had to come up with something. "Dad, thanks." I looked over at him with a smile on my face.

He smiled. I could still see the hurt in his eyes though. He must have been heart broken that this had happened.

It was my turn to comfort him. "Dad, you couldn't have done anything to have stopped it." I knew that he was going to protest that so, "Don't say anything and listen to me. There really wasn't, and if I had texted you instead of Martin, you would be dead now. Gotham depends on you so much. We couldn't have afforded to lose you instead."

Dad stared at me at the stoplight with hard eyes. "You're acting heartless, like you didn't even know Martin," he scolded sternly. "He was one of your best friends. You should be crying."

I knew he was right. I lowered my eyes from his. "It's was scary, Dad. I watched him die. It's all I can do to keep from falling into a dark hole." I felt tears well up in my eyes, but they refused to fall. "I'm not meaning to be heartless," I whispered. I turned my attention back to the skyscrapers passing by. I couldn't face my dad's honest scoldings right now. I wasn't telling him everything, and I didn't know if I ever would.

Dad's harshness changed in a second. His eyes got soft, and I could see the bottom edge of his glasses fogging up just a little bit. His moustache covered up the top of the thin line of his mouth. "Sweetie, I didn't know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He placed his hand on my shoulder as the SUV we were in lurched forward from the red light.

Okay, it's not that great, and I'm sorry. I think that there will be one more bridge chapter. Then I will dive straight into The Dark Knight. Let me explain about the crappiness: I've been sick, which means I've been on meds, and I swear that it's going to my head. I don't know if I'll be stuck home tomorrow or not, but if I am, I may be able to post another chapter up. I'm pretty sure Mom wants to pick me up at lunch time so I'll be able to write then. Okay, enough blubbing. Bye!