Lordlink13: A warning beforehand, there is a swear in this chapter. I usually try to avoid them, but this time, I couldn't find any other way to express the Joker's emotions - yeah, spoiler as to who's POV we go into for a bit. Move along...

From the moment I woke up before the sun set, I knew today was going to be different from any other.

For one thing, I was awake in time to be aware of the Joker getting out of bed and going into the bathroom. It took me a moment to realize that we weren't in the apartment anymore. Instead, we were in Mr. Freeze's old hideout – which meant that it was still cold!

But I didn't feel cold. The Joker's body heat still lingered on his side, so I shifted over, resting my head on his pillow and letting out a satisfied sigh. I heard the sound of rushing water as the Joker turned on the faucet, and for a moment, he let it run.

Loud gurgling came from the bathroom, and I sat up suddenly, eyes widened in terror before realizing that the Joker had just stuck his face under the running water. He rubbed his face with a hand, washing off the black, white, and red warpaint. Paint gone, he tossed his head back, grabbing a towel and drying his face. Casually, he threw the towel aside and stood looking at his reflection in the mirror.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to see the side of his face better. It was natural curisioty that had me wanting to know what the Joker looked like under the warpaint. I was simply too far away to take in any important details, but I did notice that the one scar I could see wasn't as visible without the warpaint.

The Joker finished making faces at himself, and took out several tubes out of a drawer, roughly and quickly reapplying his facepaint. My shoulders drooped as I realized that I had missed my chance at seeing all of who the Joker was underneath his makeup.

I lied back down as the Joker traced lipstick over his scars, bringing out the infamous Glasgow smile. He cleared his throat, straightened his vest, and walked out of the room, taking care to close the door quietly behind him.

That was at seven forty-seven in the evening.

The Joker returned, sneaking up on me. I gave a startled cry as his weight abruptly hit the bed behind me. I almost crumpled the picture of my best friend that I had been staring at for who knows how long.

"C'mon, Shadow!" the Joker exclaimed. "It's al-most eleven, and you're still in bed!" He threw himself over me, and I grunted under his sudden weight. "Whatcha doing?" he asked.

"Brooding," I replied, trying to shift under him so my rips weren't being crushed.

"Ah-bout what?" he asked, excitedly.

I turned my head with difficulty to watch his reaction. "About you."

The Joker's eyes narrowed as he turned his head, watching me out of the corner of his eyes. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and asked, disbelieving, "Really? What's that got to do with your traitor friend here?" He reached for the picture, but I pressed it against me so he couldn't get it. "I have this im-press -ion that his name starts with a 'J'."

"Just because yours does?" I demanded, narrowing my eyes in irritation.

"I'll call him 'Jim'," the Joker said. "What do I have to do with Jim, here?"

I turned my head away from his, staring at the wall. "You remind me of him sometimes…but that isn't the reason why I was thinking about you. I just…happened to be holding his picture while I was thinking about you."

"Why would you be thinking about me?" the Joker asked. "No one thinks about me. I'm just there."

"Because you're unique," I explained. "I've never met a man even close to being you."

"It's a trait-ah, believe me." He started to lift his weight from me, but I quickly grabbed his jacket with my free hand. The Joker stopped, giving me a sidelook, like he was trying to read my expression. "Don't believe me?" he asked, his tone suspicious.

"Not one bit," I told him. "It could be my imagination, but I'm quite convinced it isn't. I doubt anyone else would even consider the theory I've formed about you."

He began to look suspicious, almost angry, but he licked his lips and said, "Try me."

I took a deep breath, knowing that if the Joker didn't like what I told him, I'd be dead. I've been very open with him thus far, and now, I was going to give him my personal opinion of him, a view that's changed many times throughout the time I've been with him. It was a risk I could take at this point, seeing no other way to confront him.

"You've told me better that you don't plan things," I began, "Yet I have the impression that you do plan things here and there, maybe you lie down the basics and improvise from there to flow with the situation. And I've noticed that you may claim insanity to avoid going to Blackgate Prison, so that you could go to Arkham and break out whenever you want. The doctors in Arkham might be convinced of your insanity plea, but I'm not."

The Joker's eyes narrowed. "Your point?" he growled.

"I see you as a sane man who willfully causes anguish and clearly enjoys it. You say you're an agent of chaos, and you clearly are since wherever you go, chaos is the result. Doctors in Arkham might say that, if any of them found this out, they'd agree with the summation that you should be retried as mentally competent, declared sane, sent to state prison, and executed."

As I said this, the Joker's face had darkened, his brown eyes turning black with rage. His hands on either side of me had tightened, grabbing handfuls of the blankets around me. He was shaking with his anger that only grew as the seconds ticked by, but I had to finish, to tell him my personal opinion.

"But I don't think you should be executed, even though I believe you're sane." His expression relaxed slightly, anger melting into cautious curiosity. I swallowed quietly, placing my hand against his chest that heaved with his harsh breathing. "I know the scar stories, even if I only believe one truthfully." His eyes narrowed. "But whatever happened to you made you this way, who you are now and not you've been." I looked away before meeting his darkened eyes. "I consider you a friend, Joker, and the reason is because you understand me better than anyone has, better than 'Jim'."

He released the blankets with one hand and snaked it behind my neck, gripping me. The Joker leaned in, bringing his face an inch from mine, my vision filled with his expression. "Shadow, Shadow, Shadow," he said, his tone disapproving, "You must be in-sane to think of me as a friend."

"Maybe I am," I said, "But that doesn't really matter, does it?"

"Does it, she asks." The Joker pushed himself up, a menacing chuckle escaping his lips. "Of course it matters. This whole city's upside down. If you're insane, then who isn't?" He pounded the bed beside me with his fist in anger. "If you wanted to form a theory on me, Shadow, you should've applied for a job in Arkham!"

He jumped off me and the bed entirely. "On second thought," he said, looking at me over his shoulder. "You shouldn't have come to Gotham in the first place."

"Joker, please!" I protested, but he left the room, slamming the door behind him.

What had I done wrong? Had I worded what I wanted to tell him incorrectly? I had angered him, lit the fire underneath him. I had hurt him. Even under the cover of his anger, I read the injury I had caused him. I had pushed a hidden button with my statement of believing he was sane and that I thought he was a friend. What was it about friends that hurt him so much?

I sat up and hugged my knees, shaking with the incoming of tears. The Joker had told me little of his own best friend, no, he never said it was a best friend, just a friend, who killed himself months after they had met. What kind of damage does that do to a person? Did the Joker think it was his fault that his friend had killed himself?

Past wounds hurt. I would know, having lost my best friend, my family, and my life. The Joker was always telling me to face the past and then forget it, but that's not like me. I can't forget, a reason why I held grudges so tightly, the rare ones that I held.

Maybe the Joker was the same way. Whenever I hinted at his dead girlfriend, he stiffened or became angry. Now that I was actually seeing the man who betrayed me, I was losing it to hidden rage, my grudge towards him.

Broken people, indeed. If I didn't believed in coincidence, I would have thought things occurred for a reason. Meeting the Joker on my first night in Gotham would certainly be more than just coincidence, just my bad luck.

Reluctance overwhelms you when you've done something that you deeply regret, I've noticed. I couldn't push aside that regret as I dragged myself out of bed, literally dropping on the floor in a series of pushups, some exercise that would get the blood flowing and clear my head.

I didn't leave the bedroom until midnight, almost sneaking as I closed the door behind me quietly. I hadn't even gone far before I heard someone calling my name. I tried to ignore them, but whoever it was caught up with me, grabbing my arm and pulling me to a stop.

"Hey, what's wrong, Shadow?"

I shook him off. "Nothing, Bleak," I said quietly.

"Something's definitely wrong," Dean pressed. "And I'm guessing it had to do with you and the Joker, by the way he stormed away."

I turned my head, wrapping my arms around me. "I don't want to talk about it."

"I understand that, but…" Dean chewed on his lower lip. "You know, I'm headed down for the furnace to see if I can fix it. How about you come with me?"

"No, I'm fine…"

"Where else are you gonna go, Shadow? It's midnight. Unless you want to make friends with the Bat, I'd suggest just limiting the people you're around right now." He took my arm again, holding it gently, and I looked at him, seeing his concern. "Besides, I need someone to hold the flashlight."

I stared at him for a few moments before nodding. "All right, I'll go with you," I said, without bothering to hide my non-existent enthusiasm. Dean didn't seem to mind as he headed off toward the small room with the trapdoor. I allowed him to lead me, taking me down into the basement.

I watched him as he knelt before the broken furnace, setting down a toolbox he had brought with him. He rummaged through the tools, picking out what he needed before taking out the flashlight from his pocket, sliding it over to me. I turned it on and flashed it at the furnace, waiting until he had finished a good examination.

"You know, I've been thinking," I began.

"About what?" he asked, without looking at me.

"You remember when we met in the park when the…boss sent me out to deal with Tyler Samson?"

Dean's shoulders stiffened. "Yeah," he said, with difficulty. "You sure did deal with him."

I hugged my knees, pulling them close into my chest, feeling guilt wash over me. "I didn't really want to do that to him…"

"You did it while you sent me away, didn't you?" he asked, his voice cold.

"Dean, I thought you were trying to make things better for me right now."

His shoulders slumped. "Sorry, I guess I just never expected something like that from you. Even when you act all bad criminal for the Joker, I sense that that's only half of you, like you're really a quiet person."

"I used to be," I whispered. "But you remember when I told you about a boy I knew in middle school."

"Dean Ledger, I think you said his name was."

"Yeah…" I looked over to see him staring at me, expectantly. "I really do wonder if you're him." I lowered my eyes, staring at the flashlight in my hands. "I guess my memory's starting to kick in from the past. You remind me of him. You're funny and open to others' feelings." I smiled. "At least mine."

Dean grinned. "Especially if I went over to talk to you during lunch."

"Yeah…I had a best friend who did the same thing, but that was after the Ledger boy – that's what I called you – bothered me."

"You know, the name does sound familiar. Vaguely, though, like I had heard of the name before but never knew the person." Dean stopped what he was doing and half-turned toward me. "But I remember you sitting alone, reading a book all the time. I can just picture you."

I blinked. "You haven't seen me reading on my day-off?"

Dean shook his head. "I can never find you."

"The boss doesn't have any trouble."

"Well, I believe he is what he claims he is. He has the nose of one of the Rottweilers."

I smiled and then said, "Dean, I have an idea."

"For what?" he asked, curiously.

"Stay there," I told him as I shifted over to him. "Close your eyes and don't move. I want you to picture me reading a book alone."

"Why?"

"Don't ask questions. I'll explain afterwards. And do remember to breathe."

Dean grinned, but he closed his eyes, waiting.

"Are you picturing it?" I asked.

"Almost living it," he told me. I hesitated and then reached up and placed my hands on his temples. I didn't feel a pull, like I did for the Joker, but I sensed something different. Taking a steadying breath, I closed my eyes.

The wooden chair flew across the room, and smashed into wall, shattering into rotten bits. His chest heaving, his fist collided with the wall, causing it to cave in around his hand. He ripped it out of the hole and paced the room, his shoulders hunched. Passing a table, he paused to flip it over violently out of his way before returning to his restless pace, kicking aside another chair.

The Joker passed the door but then suddenly turned and kicked it, causing it to splinter, only to turn away from it, like he didn't care about the result.

Why? he thought. Why do I keep this hidden? I don't…care about anyone else, just…just… He spun and punched the wall, but not as hard as the first time. The Joker placed both palms flat on the wall, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to it.

This…wasn't how I thought…damn. The Joker roughly pushed off the wall and continued around the room, but he stopped after a few steps. I shouldn't be keeping this from…from her.

With a surge of anger, he kicked a third chair, breaking it and sending the pieces in different directions. A splinter came up and hit him in the face, scraping his cheek, just over his scar. It started to bleed, but not enough to worry about. Not like the Joker would've cared if it was a little or a lot.

He stood there for several moments, his breathing heavy. He shut his eyes tightly as he clenched his fists. I need to tell her…but when…and how? He turned toward the door, opened it – breaking it in the process – and stormed out, leaving the door hanging by one of its hinges.

Being inside Dean's memory was much different from the Joker's. Instead of seeing first person, I was watching the younger Dean from afar, and even as I looked at him, I recognized him as the boy named Dean Ledger. The black hair, the brown eyes…yup, it was him.

I recognized the lunchroom, the black and white tiles on the floor, the long tables, the colored doors where people retrieved their food. I appeared to be sitting two seats away from Dean, and I could see him looking across the cafeteria. When I turned my head, I blinked, seeing myself, at age eleven, sitting alone and reading a book that looked like an English assignment. Younger Sara had a second book on the table to read after she finished the English one.

I smirked, liking how I knew that already.

"Hey, Dean, what are you staring at?" I turned my head to see Dean whip his back to some kid sitting near him. I recognized the kid as Kim, another troublemaker in the school.

"What?" Dean asked, looking surprised, like Kim had broken him out of his thoughts.

"I said, hey, what are you staring at?" Kim repeated.

"I wasn't staring; I was looking."

"You know her?" I flinched as I looked at the boy sitting directly across from Dean. What a coincidence! It was my best friend J-…'Jim'. I'd recognize his husky voice anywhere.

"She's in my English class," Dean told him.

A guy – a boy named Ben – whistled loudly. "Dean's gotta crush on shy girls."

Dean glared at him, but at the same time, so did my best friend, giving Ben a hard stare that made Ben shrink with uneasiness.

"I doubt that she's shy," 'Jim' said, still staring at Ben. Even as he watched the kid squirm under his gaze, a smile stretched over his lips. That was definitely my best friend. He always did that to anyone who tried to mess with me, and apparently he did it for others too.

"Go talk to her and see if you can make her put the book down," 'Jim' dared Dean, finally turning his gaze back. Dean gave him the slightest of pouts, trying to get out of the dare, but my best friend wasn't having it. He leaned over the table, looking Dean directly in the eyes, his tongue sliding out but just wetting his lips the tiniest bit.

It reminded me of the Joker.

"Go, Dean," my best friend said, "I dare you." He had made it an official dare, ordering Dean to do it.

Instantly obeying, Dean stood up and walked over to where my younger self was sitting. I too got up and followed him, waiting to watch the situation, even though I remember it from this spot.

However, Dean stopped and looked back. I did too, to see my best friend – out of all their friends – giving Dean an encouraging nod, motioning with his hand to go on. Dean smiled slightly and nodded back before taking the last steps towards Sara.

Even as I followed him, the scene started to dissolve, and I looked around, confused. Was this the end of his memory?

But even as this scene disappeared, another started to appear.

Dean balanced on the railing of a bridge that stretched across a rushing river. He had his arms out to keep that balance, but there was also a strong wind that nearly knocked him over the edge several times. Dean's eyes were wet, tearing rolling down his cheeks as he watched the water below.

I stood nearby, only able to watch him as he stood there. My chest heaved as I realized he was starting to lean away from the bridge.

"Dean, stop!" Dean almost fell, barely catching his balance. He looked over his shoulder to find someone standing mere feet away. For some reason, the face was blurry, and the voice was disoriented so I couldn't tell who it was. "Dean, what are you doing? Get down from there!"

"No, not this time," Dean said. "I'm sorry, but this is it."

"Please, don't, Dean," the stranger begged. "I don't want to lose you. Listen, we can leave this place. We don't have to stay here."

"There's nothing you can do to change things, Bro. I've made my decision."

"If it's about Dad…"

"It's not about Dad. It's about me." Dean ran a hand through his hair as he turned to face the stranger. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to do it alone." A small genuine smile crossed his face. "See ya later, Bro."

A burst of pain exploded in my head, and I broke out of Dean's memory with a whimper, gripping my head tightly.

"Whoa, what happened?" Dean said, wondrously. "I saw you! And heard voices and everything."

"That's your memory," I told him, clenching my teeth against the agony.

"I remember!" he exclaimed. "But…what was the last part?"

"Another memory-." I gasped, feeling the pain flow from my head and down, reaching my neck and into my shoulders. "Ow…" I collapsed on the ground, tears springing from my eyes. It hurt, whatever I had done. I started convulsing, the agony becoming too great.

"Shadow? Shadow, what's wrong?" Dean's voice rose with concern and fear. He tried holding me down, as my body jerked. I couldn't focus through the pain. My shadow state activated in an attempt to block out the agony, but it only made it worse. The room tipped and swerved around me. The pain pulsed through me, making my stomach lurch sickeningly. I could distinctly hear Dean talking to me, trying to calm me, but I had no control. My body arched violently, and when my back hit the ground, the agony was so great that it overwhelmed me, dropping me harshly into unconsciousness.

Gradually, I came back into consciousness, my body aching from my seizure. Vaguely, I was aware of the cushions underneath me and the tilt of my head, bringing me to the conclusion that I was lying on a couch. I opened my eyes and moved slowly as I pushed myself into a sitting position.

Someone gasped, and I saw Dean's face as he dragged a chair over to me. "Hey," he said, grinning slightly.

"Hi," I said, wearily.

"How'd you feel?"

I rubbed my head where a dull headache rested. "Okay, I guess."

"Did you know that was gonna happen?"

"No."

Dean leaned back in his chair. "Well, I appreciate you trying to help me with my memories, but I don't want you doing it again, if that's how you're going to react."

I nodded. "I understand. How long was I out?"

"Two hours. It's been hard. I've had to keep moving you so that the Joker didn't find you. Who knows what he would've done if he saw your condition?"

I turned to prop my back against the couch. "Thanks, Dean," I said, smiling slightly.

"No problem," he said, returning a wider grin.

Abruptly, the door opened, and Dean's head jerked. Shaun stood in the doorway, panting heavily. "Boss wants everyone in the Recreation Room," he said, panting.

"Okay," Dean said, standing up. "You stay here, Shadow."

"Shadow included." Shaun swallowed and added, "He's pretty upset. He's already beaten Dave into the ground. Literally."

Dean gave me a worried look. "Maybe you shouldn't go."

"No, if I don't go, he'll only get angrier," I said. I held out a hand, and Dean took it, pulling me to my feet. "Who knows? He might just be angry because he can't find me."

I couldn't have been any more right. The moment I walked into the Recreation Room, the Joker turned away from poor Cory who was cowering into a corner and sauntered toward me swiftly.

"Where. Have. You. Been?" he demanded, his eyes narrowed.

"Wandering," I replied.

He kept walking toward me, and I started to backstep until I was against the door. The Joker slammed one hand beside my head, following it by the other, the force of his hands causing the door to tremble on its hinges. His face loomed into mine, blocking my vision from everything but him.

By the way he was shaking, I thought he was angry enough to hurt me or something. His tongue flickered out over his lips several times rapidly, like a snake; his eyes boring into mine, like he was breaking into my soul. He seemed to continue moving closer, and I pressed myself against the door, trying to keep some space between the two of us.

The Joker's eyes weren't dark though, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet, almost a whisper as he asked, "Wanna go for a drive?"

The abrupt change in mood took me off guard. I took a few seconds to recover enough to say, "Um, sure…"

Lordlink13: Good chapter, what else can I say? A little hint of future possibilities. Ahem…so please read and review and then go chill for a week, reading over Fanfiction or watching a movie or eating or sleeping or breathing. Breathing's always nice to do once in awhile. Oh, and Randomdamsel, I'm curious as to what your prediction is. Are you going to hang the information over my head to torment me or are you going to be nice and PM me with it? *wide-eyed puppy look* And thanks everyone for the reviews, please keep them up. And if anyone knows what happened to Sinario, let me know. I'm worried. *throws suspicious look at the Joker*