Many minutes passed without my knowledge. Struggling against my emotions, I pushed myself to my feet slowly, feeling weak and shaky. I went where my feet carried me, so numb that it didn't matter to me.

I came out into the main hangar of the warehouse, headed for one of the parked cars, vaguely noting that the Volvo was gone. My hand caressed the red truck that the Joker had stolen from the guy he killed for insulting me, and I climbed in, leaving the door open as I ran my hands around the steering wheel.

"You okay, Shadow?"

I sighed and dropped my hands to the bottom of the wheel. "No, Dean, I'm not." I looked over at him, standing in the open door. "Why is it that whenever the Joker and I have a hard time, you're the first one who finds me?"

Dean shrugged. "Just coincidence, I guess." He watched me for a few seconds before asking, "Have you been crying?"

Consciously, I rubbed the palm of my hand over my eyes and down my cheeks, hoping to make the traces disappear. Dean grabbed my wrist, stopping me. "It was worse this time," he said. "You've never cried after a hard time with him. Did the Joker hurt you? He hit you, didn't he?"

"He hasn't hit me since my first few days here," I told him reluctantly.

"What did he do to you?" Dean demanded, his expression hardening.

"Why do you care, Dean?" I asked.

"I care because I'm your friend."

"You wouldn't understand."

"I understand enough to know that this isn't who you really are," he said.

"Then who am I?" I snapped, losing my temper suddenly. "You've only known for about a month. Who do you think I am?"

"Sara," Dean sighed, surprising me as he said my real name, "You helped me with my memories. I know a little about you, that you were a quiet bookworm in the past. I may not know what happened to you since then, but I know that no one's changed you as much as the Joker. I care that you're changing into a monster, like him. I don't want you to lose sight of who you really are."

His grip on my wrist relaxed, and he sighed again. "Listen to me, Sara. Maybe being here, around the Joker, isn't a good idea."

"Never said it was," I murmured.

"It's because you came to Gotham that you were kidnapped by the Joker in the first place."

"What's your point?"

Dean hesitated, like he was unsure that now was the time. "You should leave…now while he's not here."

"Why?" I asked, frowning. "I consider Gotham my home now."

"If you stay here longer, you'll end up in Blackgate Prison, or even worse, Arkham Asylum with the Joker." He shifted his grip from my wrist to my hand, and my gaze dropped, seeing how small my hand was compared to his. "As your friend, Sara, I'm telling you to leave, for your own good."

I chewed on my lower lip, not knowing what to say or to think. I couldn't consider leaving the Joker…not while he had Jason, not while he had me. "I can't, Dean," I whispered. "I've been alone too long…"

"You don't have to go alone, Shadow." I raised my gaze, meeting his brown eyes, flinching slightly when I realized that they were almost the same shade as the Joker's. "I'll go with you. I'll take you away from here."

"The Joker would know, Dean. It wouldn't work. He'd come after me, after you."

"No, he won't. You'll be leaving him willingly. He doesn't really need me; he just keeps me around because I amuse him."

I ducked my head to hide my small smile. Dean cupped my chin with his hand, tilting my head back up. He licked his lips and said, "He doesn't need me so he won't miss me. He'll let you go. If you come with me, I promise to protect you, to stay with you so that you'll never be alone again."

Gazing into his eyes, I realized he was being serious about this. There wasn't the slightest hint that he was playing around with me. He really believed that it would save me if I left Gotham City behind, and he was willing to come with me, despite what might happen.

"Why would you do this, Dean?" I asked. "We've only known one another for a short time, even if we knew each other in middle school. This is the Joker, we're talking about. Why would you risk your life for me?"

Dean paused, shifting his weight. Then, he said, "Because I love you, Sara." I blinked with surprise, but he didn't seem to notice as he leaned in, pressing his lips to mine.

I didn't resist him; I didn't know how to react. I was so numb; I wasn't even surprised by his feelings for me. I didn't think he'd have the courage to try something like this, but it didn't seem to matter anymore, to him.

Even though I hadn't reacted, he snaked his arms around my waist, pulling me out of the truck and into his embrace. My mind raced as he continued to kiss me; I could taste his passion, could almost measure how much he loved me.

Dean pulled away for air and came back, but he stopped when his mouth met my hand instead. He looked at me, injured but patient for an explanation.

"I'm sorry, Dean," I said quietly, closing my eyes. "I don't mean to hurt you, but I can't." My heart throbbed painfully in my chest as I realized those were the same words I had said to the Joker when he first kissed me. "I just don't have the same feelings as you do…there's someone else…"

"Is it the Joker?" Dean asked, sharply. "Is that why he can hurt you so much?"

I shook my head, even though that wasn't the answer to the question. "No, it's the man he's taken prisoner, my ex-boyfriend." I pulled away from him and walked away, heading out of the warehouse altogether. I didn't hear him pursue me, but I kept walking anyway.

Once I was a good distance from the warehouse, I had finally made a decision, and I shadowed away.

Normally, I would have avoided a place like the nightclub My Alibi. It had poor-quality compared to some higher nightclubs I've been, Iceberg Lounge being the only one in Gotham I've found, but My Alibi fit perfectly with my mood as I entered.

The noise level had been considerably loud from the far end of the parking lot, but as I walked in through the open side doors, the music pounded against the walls. I could even feel the vibration in the floor. The crowd was boisterous; everyone determined to party, to gear up for the coming weekend. As I made my way to the bar, I heard the shattering of glass, followed by maniacal laughter and several protests. A woman holding a beer bottle laughed loudly as she allowed a fellow to lead her to the dance floor where they disappeared in the wave of bobbing dancers.

I slid onto an empty barstool and called the bartender, ordering a beer. Honestly, I wasn't a drinker and never really enjoyed the stuff, thus never getting addicted to it, but as emotional unstable I felt, I thought I'd turn to the liquor to give me the strength to get through my predicament.

The first gulp was bad, with the burning down my throat, and the second was just as terrible. It wasn't until around the fifth or sixth gulp that my throat almost went numb to it.

I drank and listened to the music, watching the dancers bob to the background noise. I caught sight of a poker game and was tempted to go over there, but instead, I finished off my bottle and asked for another.

Whenever a temptation came up, I ordered another drink. I don't know how many I had; I gave up counting after the fourth one. My vision seemed just as clear as ever, and my other senses seemed normal. The only thing different was the hum that I felt vibrating through my limbs, giving me a giddy feeling. It didn't matter; I felt numb to my troubled emotions but didn't feel brave enough to go up and dance.

"How many shots are customers allowed?" I asked the bartender.

"Two usually, unless we know you can take it," he replied. He was a man in his mid-thirties with premature hair and nice eyes. "I don't recognize you. Your first time?"

I shook my head, the liquor making it easier to lie.

"Well, I'd suggest one for now, but if you can handle it, you can have three max."

I nodded. "I'll take one, for now."

I took the maximum three. I felt as though I was having an out-of-body experience, feeling like I didn't have much control over my limbs. My vision blurred after the first shot, my logic died on the second, and now my control was gone. I stood up, holding onto the bar for support, managing small conscious thoughts that seemed clear with enough common sense.

I don't hold onto the bar, I'll fall and might hurt myself. Common sense…

The crowd had become livelier since I had first come in; people in a feverish state of drunkenness and partying. I moved into the wave of people, bumping off several of them as I tried to make my way to the dance floor. It wasn't a conscious idea of trying to reach there, but I did realize where I was going more than halfway there so I went with it.

I reached the dance floor, listened to the song for a few moments, and then gradually began to move with the beat.

Several songs in, I got the hang of it.

The music vibrated through my body as I danced, swinging my hips like there was no one else on the dance floor. I lost all concentration, just letting myself move to the beat, stamping my feet, clapping my hands, throwing my arms up into the air, popping my hips…I danced like it was the end, letting myself go and without a care.

I felt sweat drip on my body, and the heat in the room was intense. I grabbed the bottom of my shirt and lifted it up, pulling it over my head. I threw it aside and could hear whistles around me, but I didn't care, nor did I pay any attention, merely flashing a grin. I continued to dance, throwing myself around and not caring if I hit others.

A few guys came up, trying to get my beat, but I was too much for them, moving to a hidden beat in the song. They couldn't keep up with me. I laughed at them as they wandered off like puppies with their tails between their legs. I felt free, I felt happy, and I felt like I could do anything.

I don't know how long I had been there. In my drunken state, time didn't matter. I faced off several guys and girls, showing off moves that I'd regret later but at the moment didn't care. Bumping and grinding, I let myself loose, dancing with everyone and no one. I was too intense for them all.

I was only dimly aware of the hands that rested on my hips, just below my belt. Grinning, eager for the challenge, I placed my hands over the fellow's, swinging my hips. He moved with me, keeping pace with me. Even drunk, I was impressed that he could handle me. He spun me out and back into his arms, taking the lead away from me.

I laughed, enjoying the release of the control, letting him freely take the lead from me. We danced rigorously, moving in unison. It was a workout, and I found myself breathing heavily with the effort. Finally, someone who could outmatch me! How fun!

The song ended, and I felt myself being pulled away from the dance floor. Trying to catch my breath, I relaxed against the fellow, smiling widely and turning my head to see the guy's face. Through drunken eyes, all I could see was a blurry mass of white, black, and red.

Someone else popped up and demanded to know where the guy was taking me.

"She just needs some fresh air," the guy replied, his voice low, husky.

I reached out an arm, drunkenly. "Don't worry," I said loudly. "I'll be back." I raised my arm, bringing it around the guy's neck behind me. "Won't I?" I asked, giggling softly to myself.

"No, you won't," he responded as he put an arm around my waist to support me. He led me through the crowd of people, and I stumbled along with him, having no care in the world of where he was taking me.

We left the pumping music behind, and the guy pushed open the back door of the nightclub, bringing me out into the cool breeze. I felt my dripping sweat dry almost instantly, and I laughed, turning around and hugging the guy's neck.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed. "Some party, huh?"

"Sure it was, Shadow," he responded, not amused.

I gave him a curious look. "Have we met?" I asked, confused. Then, before he could answer, I giggled. "Oh, what does it matter, huh? A handsome guy like you…gonna take me far away, right? I like rides."

"You're a wreck, Shadow." He sounded concerned, disappointed, disgusted.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, still giggling. I threw an arm up into the air as I exclaimed, "I feel wonder-ful! I feel great! So alive and ready!" I grabbed a handful of his purple jacket as I brought my face close to his. "You know what?" I asked. "Guess what I'm ready for!"

"That's not what you're going to get, Shadow," he growled, sounding angry.

"Why not, Mistah J?" I whined, hanging on his neck, his name popping into my head. "Surely you've wanted it too, huh?" I laughed and kissed his cheek – or tried to since I missed and got his jaw instead.

"Shadow," he said, quietly as I kissed his jaw several times. "You're drunk…"

"Am I?" I asked, startled. Then, I released a high-pitched giggle. "Maybe I am…I don't know."

The Joker glared at me, his eyes hardening. "How many drinks did you have?" he demanded.

"Just a few," I replied.

The Joker pushed me roughly against the brick wall of the alley, and I laughed with the pain. I nearly collapsed, but he kept an arm around me, to support me. I smiled drunkenly as he leaned in closer, his breath blowing in my face.

"How. Many?" he growled through clenched teeth.

I tried to remember, but only shrugged as I lifted my hands to his vest, playing with the buttons. "Didn't count, I can't remember." I looked up at him and grinned. "C'mon, enough of the…um, chitchat, Joker. We should go find some place…to be alone."

His white-faced expression tightened as his tongue flickered out over his bottom lip. "I don't dig drunk women," he said stiffly.

"Oh, but I dig men who wear purple," I said, pressing into him roughly, making him take a step back for balance. "Some people think that if a guy wears purple, it means he's gay…" I grinned widely at him as I fumbled with a button on his green vest. "I think only a true man would wear purple…or even a man who wants…chaos-ah!" I laughed as I gave up on the frustrating button and wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his face.

I began kissing him along his jaw, moving up by his ear and then down his neck. My hands buried themselves into his green-tinted hair, but didn't remain there as I was restless. Drunk, I just wanted him. My hands moved down his neck and under his jacket, searching for the feel of his hunched shoulders.

The Joker made no move to assist me, or to stop me. I wasn't hurt by his lack of participation because I was simply too busy enjoying the feel of his muscular body. When I kissed his scars ever so gently, I felt his mouth twitch like he was trying to resist me, and I would smile and kiss his other scar lightly, brushing his lips with mine as I moved to his other side.

I moved my hands down to his vest again, trying to undo the buttons, but I gave up when I couldn't do it, my fingers too clumsy. I busied myself with caressing his chest, his sides…as I pressed my lips to his, my hands reached for his belt, beginning to unbuckle it.

The Joker tore away abruptly, and I found the world spinning around me before all I saw was the night sky that was filled with bright stars. "So pretty," I murmured as an amused grin stretched over my mouth. I heard the Joker swear quietly nearby, and I turned my head to see him fixing his belt. "Such language," I giggled, happily.

"Get up, Shadow," the Joker snarled, clearly angry now.

Even in my drunken state, I had the sense not to question him. I tried to get up, but I simply couldn't, being too unsteady. "Mistah J, I…can't," I told him, being overcome by giggles.

The Joker growled as he approached me, slipping his arms underneath me and picking me up effortlessly. I laughed and clapped my hands, giggling excitedly as I wrapped my arms around his neck affectionately. He carried me out of the alley and toward a silver car where he shifted me in his arms and opened the passenger door.

"Don't hit me head," I told him in a deep, gruff voice between giggles. He placed me in the front seat and buckled me in place before closing the door. I waited until he had gotten in and started the car before I grinned and threw my legs onto his lap. "Where we headed, Mistah J?"

The Joker's face had tightened as he shoved my legs off him. "Home," he said.

"Why not some other place?" I whined as I put my legs on him again, stretching out sideways in my seat. "We go back to the same place."

The Joker made no move to shove away my legs, instead focusing on pulling away from the nightclub, and I grinned, feeling victorious. However, the Joker stopped the car at the end of the street and climbed out of the car. I blinked, confused as he came to my side, opening the door and holding out his hand to assist me.

I giggled as I took his hand, stepping out of the car and stumbling into him. "Well, we going into that building there?" I asked, eagerly. "We gonna get it on?"

The Glasgow smile appeared on his face as he wrapped an arm around my waist to steady me. "No, something bet-ter than that," he told me, lifting his free hand. I blinked when I saw a small device, something that looked familiar, once my vision had focused enough.

"Is that…a detonator?" I asked, curiously.

"You bet it is." He waved it before my face, and I reached my hands out, trying to catch it like a cat. "Wanna know what it does?"

"Ooo, I wanna know!" I exclaimed, clapping my hands excitedly.

"See this button." He motioned to it with his thumb.

I nodded, eagerly reaching for it again. "Can I push it?" I cried.

The Joker jerked it out of my reach, and I pouted. "Ah, no, I don't want you messing it up."

"I won't," I whined. "Oh please, let me push it!" He wasn't moved so I begged for it. "C'mon, I don't ask for much! I wanna push it! I wanna push it! Oh, please, give it to me! I promise I won't mess it up. Let me have it!"

The Joker's face lit with an amused smirk as I begged for the detonator. Seeing that I wasn't winning him over, I fell silent and widened my eyes in a poor impression of an innocent puppy. "You can be convincing when you do that," the Joker said, "But-ah…the answer's still 'no'."

I pouted, and then I came up with an idea. "What if I hold it and you push it? Could we do that? Please?"

The Joker turned his head, giving me a sidelook, like he was suspicious, and I continued to give him my puppy-impression. The corner of his scarred mouth twitched, and then he laughed. "Oh, all right. You can hold it."

"YAY!" I exclaimed, loudly. The Joker started to hand it to me, but when I reached for it, he took it back, giving me a look. I whimpered, but held out my hands, patiently, until he placed the detonator on them. I let out a giggle of excitement as I gripped it tightly. "Push it! Push it! I wanna see what it does!"

The Joker burst out laughing as he stepped behind me, bringing his face next to mine. I giggled as he wrapped both arms around my waist, and I felt a shiver of pleasure ran through me as his hot breath washed over my bare neck and shoulder. Feeling his warm body pressed against my back, I felt giddy inside, never mind being drunk. I felt high.

"Well?" I asked impatiently, "Ya gonna push it or what?"

He hummed near my ear. "I've, ah, changed my mind. You can push it, if you want."

"Really?" I asked, in disbelief. "Ya mean it, Mistah J?" He laughed and told me 'yes'. I let out an excited laugh and placed my thumb over the button. My body shuddered with my giddiness as I became overcome with nervous giggles. I turned my head towards the Joker's, having drunken second thoughts, but I felt his lips touch my turning cheek.

"Go ah-head and push it, my Sha-dow," the Joker whispered.

The way he said my name sent a tingling sensation through me. I sucked in a deep breath, gave a suddenly dry laugh, and held up the detonator.

"And I've changed my mind," I told him, feeling a bit like my usual self.

The Joker sighed in disappointment, unwrapping his arms around me, one hand reaching for the detonator.

Abruptly, I jerked it out of his reach and depressed the button with my thumb.

At first, nothing happened. But then, I saw a flash of light, and a loud blow echoed down the street. I blinked, looking up and seeing the nightclub go up in an explosion, flames bursting in the air. Pieces of the place fell all around. The smoke seemed to vanish seconds after it appeared into the dark night sky. I watched the explosion and felt a grin appear on my face.

"Bew-tea-ful," I whispered. As the last of the smoke rose, it began to rain. My eyes were transfixed on the fireworks, even as the Joker pulled me back towards the car, shoving me into the passenger seat, clearly impatient with me wanting to watch the rest. I twisted my entire body to watch the rest, but as the Joker drove away, I was sad to see the fireworks end abruptly.

Unhappily, I slumped into my seat and refused to look at him, resting my head to the side, listening to the rain that rapidly struck the roof of the car, and closed my eyes.

When I opened them, I discovered the car was stopped. I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, hearing the rain dropping on the roof. Looking over at the driver's seat, the Joker was gone. I caught sight of blurry purple outside, and I looked out the windshield to see the Joker standing in the rain, his head tilted up toward the sky.

I had the sense that I had seen this before, but I couldn't remember. The rain had lessened to small, slow droplets. Shivering at the sight, I realized that I wasn't wearing my shirt. I twisted and found my old jacket sitting in the backseat. Pulling it on and zipping it up, I opened my door and stepped out, shutting the car door and propping my side against it.

The Joker didn't seem to notice me. He still stood there, letting his paint smudge in the rain. I knew from looking at the paint tubes that it was water resistant, but it still smudged.

I watched his lean frame as he stood there. It was too strange to think that the Joker could possibly stand still, and he never seemed like a guy who would be out in the rain unless he had a reason. I couldn't use the usual excuse of him doing the unexpected.

The scene I was looking at, with the rain, the Joker, the empty parking lot…it seemed so familiar. I couldn't place it where I had seen it. I looked back at the Joker and started when I saw he was watching me intently.

"Sorry," I said automatically.

"Why are you apologizing?" he asked. "You didn't do anything."

I didn't know what to say to that. I usually had something, but this once, nothing came to my mind. Instead, I moved around to the front of the car and leaned back.

"Shadow," the Joker began, uneasily. "Can I tell you a story?"

I pulled myself up onto the hood, not caring if I got my pants wet. "You can," I stated.

A small smile crept on his face. He turned and sauntered toward me slowly, keeping his approach devoid of threat. The Joker halted with a small distance between us, and he turned his head slightly. "May I?" he asked.

I placed my hands on the hood and leaned backwards, crossing my legs.

"I knew this kid once," the Joker began, looking off into the distance, his eyes watching the city lights against the rain. "In his early twenties, maybe. Found him in an alleyway, dying. Must've gotten into a nasty gang fight. Fine-looking fellow, besides the blood on him." The Joker licked his lips, still looking off in the distance, but I noticed he had become rather still.

"He told me that he was dying, that his only hope of living was lost-ah to him. I asked him what that hope was." The Joker looked at me, his eyes distant, unfocused. I waited for him to speak, but he didn't, falling into silence. His emotions swirled rapidly in his eyes, and he looked away sharply, his chest heaving as he breathed heavily. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly as he ducked his head. This confused me. This wasn't like the Joker, to hesitate, to apologize.

It could be a joke, but I felt like the Joker was – and I worried greatly for using the word – vulnerable.

Abruptly, the Joker yanked off his gloves, tossing them onto the hood of the car beside me. He bounded forward, and before I could react, he held my face tightly, his skin pressed against mine. In a panic, I looked into his eyes and felt myself being swallowed by those tormented brown orbs, activating my shadow ability.

Everything was disorientated. Colors were a blur, lacking in shape and dimension. It was dizzying as a flood of emotions hit me, nearly overcoming me, drowning me under the intense pressure of hidden and suppressed feelings. I tried to find myself among those emotions, and succeeded, locating my own curiosity and confusion.

I composed myself and found that the color blur around me had finally formed. I was standing on a dark road that had only one dim streetlight that flickered. Looking up at the sky, it was cloudy, dark enough to be nighttime.

I heard footsteps, rapid footsteps. I turned, knowing they were coming from behind me, and there was a man running towards me. Quickly, I jumped out of the way, unsure of what else to do, but he didn't give me any notice as he ran past, like the cops were on his heels.

I would have forgotten him, if I hadn't noticed the blood running down his front.

Without another second, I chased after him, catching sight of him ducking into an alley. I stopped just inside the mouth, seeing it was very dark. The light that filtered in through the mouth wasn't enough to see more than just the man's outline. I tried my shadow vision, but I realized that this was a memory. I couldn't use special powers in a memory.

The stranger ran to the wall, placed his hands on the brick wall, and stood there, breathing heavily. I approached slowly, trying to be quiet. Even if I couldn't see it, I could smell the blood on him, and by the intensity of the smell, I knew that it was a lot; and it wasn't all his.

The man pushed off the wall and started walking, only to stumble and place a hand along the bricks to stable himself. It was like he was drunk, but I knew it was the loss of blood. The man didn't get far before he collapsed, knocking into a garbage can and several boxes that he toppled over.

His body convulsed on the ground for a few seconds before he lay still. I worried that he was dead, but as I crouched beside him, I could hear his uneven breathing. Slowly, he raised a hand to his head, resting it on his cheek before reaching his forehead. "Help me," he wheezed through trembling lips. "Somebody, help…"

I wanted to comfort him, to help him, but even as I reached towards him, I found my hand – as ghostly as it looked – went right through him. This didn't make sense. In the Joker's last memory, I had been him, but now, it was like he wasn't real, or I wasn't. Was I seeing this from a third-person view?

Then, I heard more footsteps, easy and calm ones. I turned my head. A dark figure appeared at the other end of the alley, standing there with his back against the light. From the dim light, I could make out the tangled hair and the form of a long jacket. As I watched the newcomer shift from one foot to the other, I knew who it was.

"Help me," the bleeding man beside me gasped. "Please, I beg you, good sir."

"Sir?" the dark figure repeated, drawing it out dramatically. "Begging in a city like this, ah, won't get you anything but get you robbed."

"Please," the man begged. "I'm not going to last long, I know it."

"Then why should I help you?" The figure turned his head slightly. "If you're dying anyway…"

The man struggled to reach into his torn jacket, pulling out his wallet with an effort. He panted as he tossed it as far as he could in the figure's direction. "Then go," he said, in a defeated voice. "I'm dying so take my wallet. At least someone else will profit from my death…" He rested his head on the ground. "My last hope is gone anyway."

My throat constricted as I watched the dying man, wishing deeply that I could help him. I cared about him, whoever he was. If only I was real, I'd save him, protect him from the figure…

I looked up to see the figure slowly approaching, slowing to crouch and pick up the man's tossed wallet before continuing toward him. Even though I didn't need to, I moved away from the approaching figure, giving him room to crouch down beside the dying man. The figure was so close, I could see little of his features, but in the dim light from the street, I could just barely make out a red liquid running down from the figure's right cheek.

The figure carelessly opened the man's wallet and pulled out his ID card. "This isn't real," he stated flatly, flapping it. "Why would a man like you be holding a fake ID? Joseph White? Who do you think you are?" He shook his head disappointedly as he slipped the card back into the wallet. "What's this hope of yours?"

The man panted heavily, trying to keep coherent enough to understand and speak to the figure. "My…my best friend…" he gasped, "The picture behind…the ID…" The figure reached past the ID and pulled out a small picture, looking at it. I had the sense that he was frowning through the red blood running down his cheek.

"A girl?" he asked. "Your daughter?"

"No…picture was taken…less than nine…years ago. She's my…girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" The figure chuckled, his laughter carefree. "She got a name?"

"Reynolds…Sara Reynolds…"

I gasped.

The figure cleared his throat as he looked over at the picture again. "Ya know, kid. You and I can go places," he said. "You can make a new beginning. A new form of who you really are. There's a way that you and your girl-friend can get back together again."

"There's no…way…she's gone."

"But I'm the type of fellow that can find people." The figure laughed and leaned in close to the man's face. "Joseph White…or should I call you by your real name?"

"You don't know it…"

"Oh, but I do, and there's only one way that can be possible to you…"

The memory instantly faded around me, and I felt overcome with exhaustion. My body felt like lead and all I knew of was the falling sensation that failed to end as a pair of strong arms caught me before I lost consciousness.