Hello. Arkham is a scary place kids. Do not write about it at night. That's my advice. Thanks to those who review as well as those who read and enjoy. You are very lovely people. We're nearing the finish line guys. I can't believe it! Three months of writing and it's almost over! Crazy!

There was a nothingness present.

Josephine slunk against the cold hard concrete. Eyes closed. Mouth crooked. Fingers shrunk into bent digits from the elements. She shivered –frozen in illness.

The clear wall of observation stared wickedly at her. Her second self mocked her when she raised her gaze to peer at the broken creature before her.

Dirt. Slashes. Bruises. Her body was covered. So, the arrest had not been clean. The capture was as her nightmare. Taken in the night. Alone. Very alone. How long? Minutes? Hours? Days? Was her sleep eternal? Was it all a dream? Still a dream? She moved closer to her captor's portal. Her abdomen dragged across the floor. Her clothes were the ones she wore before. Fabric ripped. Tenderness of flesh realized. Concrete.

Hair tossed. Fingers touched the mirror. Haunted green eyes stared back. She inhaled deeply. Why had it come to this? Why did it have to?

Her hand fell to her cheek, deforming it; eye grew larger, as it slid down. The blued eye grew larger, then back to place.

"Why am I here? What brought me to my cage again?" She hissed to herself.

Mad as Hamlet.

The door squealed open. Her eyes shot to the entrance. The heavy roar of neurotransmitters clicked inside her head. She froze. Footfalls clicked against the tile and entered a nurse. She was young, holding a clipboard against her chest, eyes fixed on the paper clipped to the device.

"Josephine Quinzel, Patient number 40127," she said.

Josephine debated if it was a question or a statement. Either way, she did not speak.

The nurse continued. "Your appointment is this morning. You will be escorted by the guards to the doctor's office. Do you understand?"

At first, Josephine said nothing. What was there to say? Yes, no…yes was the primary answer. No did nothing else. It was all trite. Answers were of the nihilistic quality. Perhaps, a different approach to the good doctors. An empathetic twist followed by…fear. Questions were the answer.

The voice she could manage. A child. "What will he do to me?"

The nurse kept to her clipboard. "You're going for an appointment. I have nothing further to add –no notices."

"Re-eally?" She asked. "Is Dr. Strange mad at me?"

Is he mad?

"I'm sure you're going to be fine. It's a check-up appointment."

"I'm scared. I think he'll yell at me. I didn't want any of this to happen." She placed her hands to her face, forcing some tears out. No need to drown. She kept going, adding a little sob. It kept up until she felt arms around her. A shush went through her ear, soft and weak. Perfect.

"What happened to the rest of them?" He head lay against the nurse's shoulder.

"What are you-?"

"The people I was with? Are they here?"

"I don't know .You were the only one to come here." She played her fingers over her head. Josephine found the effect calming but she could not afford to allow it now.

"I don't want to go. Please don't make me." Be careful not to apologize. They can see it. I don't want to go. He will punish me. He scares me."

The nurse patted her back. "Don't be afraid of him. He's going to help you. I know you're a good girl. Tell you what; I'll walk you down myself. I'll tell the guards to leave. Will you feel better then?"

She sniffled. "Yeah, I think so. I'm tired. My head hurts." Don't talk too much.

She raised a hand to her temple and winced.

"Lean on me," the nurse took her arm, unlocked the door and went out.

Josephine stumbled down the hall, leaning on the nurse as kindly as possible –playing the traditional frightened patient. The nurse indeed must have been new, or at least not as bright as the tenured nurses used to be. Her hands squeezed the arm with a unique ferociousness. Fingers dug into the arm, but were careful not to claw like an animal. She was still a human. Not good to give the wrong impression. It was trickery, not animalistic.

The hallway was gloomy –floors sloshed in unknown slime, ungrateful to the barefoot maniac. Asbestos rotted the ceilings, chipping in the corners, raining down on uncovered heads –mistaken for dandruff. She rubbed her fingers together, feeling that grime stick to her skin like a coat –an initiation.

Where is Jonathan?

The question burned without answer. The couple turned a corner for the elevator.

Ding. Ding. More waiting for the lower levels.

Dr. Strange's office was past the great drawing room and on the back of the offices. Without a doubt, he would be waiting with a contempt that could not be harnessed. This might be the moment when she was to be killed by accident. Being greeted with a knife might do him some good.

Ding. Ding. The elevator landed on the floor. The nurse and Josephine hurried toward the great hall. It was a magnificent room –more so before the hospitalization. It was a library, a sitting room, and covered in ancient rugs, now decrepit from the overuse and "wear and tear." It was a shame. The windows gathered in sunlight in many colors, dim but still beautiful. Josephine admired the display. Only when doing so, she spied Dr. Leeland.

Leeland was touring the room with her notes. A couple walked behind her clad in furs and well-to-do clothing. Patrons, no doubt. The building itself had become a starving patient. Only instead of medical treatment, it needed a sufficient amount of funds to make its dilapidated look healed. The woman sneered at the ornaments as they walked past. Upon recognizing Josephine arm in arm with her nurse, they stopped and stared at her.

Leeland continued on, but looked back and saw that her accompaniment had ceased. She backtracked and met Josephine's gaze. The eighteen-year old regarded them with a black expression, and then burst into a grin. Their eyes widened and they huddled closer to Leeland, the man's arm protective around the woman.

Leeland watched as Josephine carried on, but was cautious. Josephine kept her gaze on the doctor, a wild expression forming. She jut her head toward the offices, an eyebrow quirked. Leeland would know. She was intelligent. Not like these other idiots. She knew.

Dr. Strange's office encroached. Josephine could read the name plate. Now or never, it was. After the years, the treatment, the bashings, taunting, bullying….he would pay. She would not tarry long before it was Hugo Strange going towards the guillotine tonight. The nurse released her.

"Now, there's no sense in messing this up. You're going to be fine. Just fine. Dr. Strange is a good man. He isn't going to hurt you." Lies. It was all lies. She probably knew what Strange did in these meetings, yet she did gather the courage to escort the Clown Princess of Crime on her lonesome. That was admirable. Now, she just had to leave the young lady with her business.

"Thank you, ma'am. You didn't have to do this."

Indeed, you did not.

"I know, but…you seemed so upset."

"Well," she sniffed for effect. "I think I'm better now. I can do it. Can you promise me one thing?"

"If I can."

"Can you not let the guards stand right in front of the door? They scare me when I'm in there. They stare straight at me and it makes me upset. Can you do that for me?"

"Eh," the nurse nervously, "I will…see what I can do."

Josephine sprang forward, clasping the nurse's hands in her own. She widened her eyes affectionately. "Thank you," she said with fervent intensity. "Thank you so much. You're very nice, you know that. A real sweetheart."

"Well, thank you," the woman blushed a little.

Josephine released her and gathered herself together. "Dr. Strange, here I come."

The office was just as she remembered: reeking in the blood of criminals –insane and sane together in one awful truth.

"Good morning, Josephine, and how are you feeling today?"

She did not bother sitting down. "Brilliant as always."

"What were you talking about with the nurse before?"

"Nothing. Being civil, as always."

"You are never civil with me. Why is that, Josephine?"

She observed the question with great power. "Because I don't approve of you."

Her answer was welcomed with a bark of laughter. "Oh, little Josephine, you are a little out of your reach. Approval from you is never what I seek, nor anyone of your kind."

He stood up. The clasps on his white doctor's coat gleaned in the lamplight. His arms folded behind his back. "You know," he began in his thick German accent, "there is much we should discuss, you and I."

Josephine stood near the chair. She gripped it for balance. Perhaps it would turn into a weapon in T-minus ten seconds.

He began walking around his desk. A visible lump was under his chest, a shadowed object lay awake. Josephine knew and expected its power soon. She had to be ready.

"You are the one who is said to be the heir to the Clown Prince."

"If you want an answer, I 'd say that's correct."

"What makes me wonder is that if you are to –let us say, hm, perish under unspeakable circumstances, how would it affect the lord and lady of crime, yes? Would they weep for you? Cry for you? I know your mother must be sad at your defeat, but your father, he is a different specimen. Answer me this, can he love?"

Josephine did not know herself. She imagined the Joker loved her, but that could easily be a fairytale. She was a worthy heir, at least she knew that. Jack was about, but it was she who was blood. If only she could find where they put Jonathan and she could escape. In all her hopes, she wished Jonathan was at Arkham: place of insanity and decay. She wondered if, no, that would be too horrible. What he was with Jack and that's what happened to him? That would change things dramatically…that would…no…she didn't think she could bear it…not for…

"Have I lost you, Josephine? Are you "away" as most of your kind usually is? We have treatments for that you know."

She forgot the initial question. "Thanks for your concern professor, but I'm not exactly here on a greeting for you."

"Oh? Don't involve yourself in being clever. It doesn't suit you. Now, answer my question: do you think your father loves you?"

She did not know. Honestly, she thought he might at some points, but then again, the point was moot. He did love himself more than anyone else. She had accessed this earlier in her teens. It was something you must ascertain in order to survive under him. But, there must be a love somewhere in there to make her live. Her life must mean something.

"If I said yes, what would that signify, doctor? That you have triumphed in pointing out that my parent's love is diminishing at its very core and I am nothing but a servant to the chaos that would destroy your very existence? Is that what this has come to?"

"Is it a yes, clown?"

"No, I think he does love me. Thank you for asking."

"On the contrary, Josephine," he turned his back to her, "I think your answer might have been so much better on my behalf than you imagined."

"What do you-"

…...

"Dear God!"

It had started. Her ears bled under that wretched sound. The whistle's pierce shrieked into her eardrum like a thousand pinpricks dancing. She fell to her knees, clutching the lobes.

He stopped. "You should have foreseen your fate, clown. If you had answered yes, perhaps your fate could have been avoided, but since you have proven to be faithful to your father, you doom yourself. This way, I can crush him with your death. Do you see what you have done to yourself? It will be a mass most worthy of my triumphant discoveries. One less patient in this dying world. At last, I can begin to breed a new hope for Gotham. One where the sludge of this hospital is at last extinguished."

Josephine rolled on the floor, still clutching her ears. But, there was something else there that the doctor had not foreseen himself.

He bent towards her. "Do you feel the pitch penetrate into you mind?"

He blew it. She winced painfully. "Can you feel the blood rushing into your brain, panicked?"

He blew again. Are you feeling the need to claim yourself for silence?"

He blew. "Now?"

He blew. "Death is just around the corner, Josephine."

He took out an instrument and tossed it to her. She writhed on the floor, shaking. The familiar glimmer caught her sight. She reached for it. Her knife, at last. She had in between her fingers. Her loyal companion was back in its rightful place.

"Use it, Josephine. Use it and all can be well for the both of us. Do you need another reminder?" He raised the whistle to his lips once more.

"No! No…" she slide across the floor on her stomach, knife in hand. "I've had enough. I'm…through…."

"Very well, complete what you must."

"I must complete what I must." Her eyes stared achingly at the blade.

Thump…thump…

"You must do what you must."

"Quickly."

"Yes, and soon."

Thump…thump…

"Yes, and I must do this for my own good." The blade glimmered under the light, welcoming her for the act that must be completed.

Thump, thump…thump…

It beckoned blood. Blood. Flesh. Blood. Pain. Silence.

"For God's sake, do it now!"

"Ahh!" Josephine lunged forward. The blade stuck.

Dr. Strange backed away. He clutched the blade in his chest. His hand brought away blood. His blood. He stared at it and back at Josephine. "H-how? You…can't have…."

Josephine stood abrasively, a wild animal kept too long in its cage. She smiled at him, a nice big grin. She pointed to her ears. When he did not understand, gasping as he did, she reached in and pulled away two blobs of paper she stuffed into the canals.

"Don't play games with a clown."

He choked. Blood spurted from his mouth and tricked onto his bleach white apron. The stains grew more and more. He stumbled backwards, trying to buzz in the guards but he fell onto the Persian rug.

"That is…impossible…I had you under my ….control…"

Josephine leaned in closer and hissed, "You don't control me anymore!"

She yanked the whistle from around his neck and pocketed it. "Never again."

Dr. Strange died with a few more moments and Josephine Quinzel was free of the monster that haunted her Arkham life.

Josephine found herself in the old drawing room again before she exited the place forever. But, there was a complication.

She was not alone.

Dr. Leeland happened to be walking by. Her eyes grew wide when she saw Josephine's figure: without chaperone. She looked as though she would backtrack at any moment but Josephine's pleading expression stopped her.

"Please, Dr. Leeland, don't," she honestly could not think of anything original other than what he true plans were. The truth was her only shot this time. "Please don't report me. Don't say anything. I swear this is my last time here. I don't want to come back."

Dr. Leeland kept staring at her, whether out of pity or fear, Josephine was unsure but was decisive on fear.

"Look, Doctor, I don't want to go back, ever. I'm sorry for I did, but it had to be done."

"What did you do?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"….Dr. Strange…."

"Perhaps, but you…can't make me go back. It's just a cycle. I want to go away, maybe forever. If only I can have the chance…."

A sudden expression came over Leeland's face. It was a mix of pleasure and hesitancy. "Do you think that is what you want? Forever? Answer me truthfully Josephine. I've had many a patient announce the same as you and end up in a far worse place than where they began."

"I swear to you, doctor, that's what I want. I'm finished with my father. I'm leaving. I don't know where, but I don't think I would tell you anyway."

Leeland considered it for a moment, then nodded. "I know it sounds quick to say, but I've always thought there was something redeeming about you. You're not like your parents.

Keep that in mind later.

"Speaking of leaving. Id Professor Crane here? He would only be here when I came. Is he in lockdown?"

"No…Dr. Crane did not come in with you. We haven't seen him in months."

Josephine slouched. "Oh no…"

"Josephine?"

"It's worse than I thought…" she whispered to herself.

"Is there something I can help you with? What's going on?"

"Something terrible is going to happen."

"Can I do something?"

"Can you get me the first transportation off the island? It's best I leave secretly to avoid any commotion. Maybe there's still a chance."

Leeland nodded. "The provision ferry is coming in. I can get you onto it."

"Perfect."

Leeland made a strange face, then, steeping forward, touched Josephine's shoulder lightly. "Good Luck, Josephine. I hope you find what you're looking for." Her eyebrow rose knowingly.

For once, Josephine smiled without a hint of blood.