While he slept, I stared at the Joker's flawless features around his scarred mouth. His paint had smeared into the creases of his face, fading in some places to reveal his perfect skin, and I could see the man underneath the makeup. I could recognize my best friend from middle school, the one who had left me alone when I was only twelve.

I lifted a hand to his face, my finger tracing the scars that formed his Glasgow grin, a smile that would never be erased from his face. I felt little sympathy for him because he obviously loved having the scars, the smile forever. Covering it wasn't something the Joker took lightly; tracing it with red lipstick brought it out for everyone to see, he wasn't trying to hide it.

The Joker sighed as he adjusted his position in his sleep, scrunching his closed eyes as his scarred lips moved, muttering something under his breath. I ignored him and his mutters, busy tracing his scars. Finally, he muttered a bit clearly, "Can't sleep…with you…pawing…my face…Sara…"

I dropped my hand, trying to keep myself from laughing, as he buried his face into the pillow. Positive that he wasn't going to wake up, I snuggled into his warm chest, listening to his even breathing. He shifted again, sliding an arm under my body while draping the other over me, enclosing me in a sleep hug. His warmth provided a blanket for me, even though the covers were pulled over us. His breathing and the warmth made me sleepy, causing me to relax and close my eyes.

"C'mon, Sara, why won't you join us?"

"I don't want to, Jack."

He cocked his head to the side, chewing on his bottom lip. "Surely playing kickball is more fun than reading a book. Besides, you can…read some other time, whenever you want."

I put my book down and glared into those brown eyes. "There is one thing you would never understand about me, Jack, and that's my love for books."

"I understand how they, ah, turned you into a shadow."

I sniffed, irritated with him. "Go play kickball, Jack, and leave me in peace."

He grinned, looking so handsome without trying to. Casually, he brushed a bunch of his dirty blond hair out of his face. "Sara, if you're afraid of playing a game in gym because you got hit in the head with a softball-."

"I'm not!" I snarled at him. "Just go away and leave the shadow alone!"

Jack frowned, looking angry. "One of these days, Sara, I swear, I'll make you play a game with a whole group of people, not just me!"

I grunted and turned my attention back to my book. He stormed off the bleachers, joining his team on the kickball field. Only after he left did I look up. I put a finger in my place and closed the book, watching Jack.

He stood ready, about to be the first kicker in the game. From the bleachers, I could see that he was shaking with a mixture of energy and anger. He hunched his shoulders and twisted his body, constantly shifting his feet like he couldn't stand still. His eyes seemed to darken, and he looked menacing.

The wind blew his hair into his face, and he used a trembling hand to brush it back a bit, not completely taking it out of his face.

I watched, shocked to see this different side of Jack. Looking at him, I actually found that I had a liking for him, a liking that went beyond friendship, but it wasn't love. No, it was admiration. I felt admiration for what Jack could become if he followed through with all the anger and put all of his energy into one thing.

The pitcher rolled the ball at Jack at a fast speed, but for some reason, everything seemed to have slowed down. I watched Jack as he bounced into the air once, his eyes on the ball, but then, he turned his head to look over at me. His eyes met mine, and a smile appeared upon his angry face. His mouth seemed to stretch beyond the normal limits, and he winked at me.

The Joker was there…lurking underneath the teenager Jack.

Jack turned his head back to the ball that seemed to have just left the pitcher's hand, and he watched it for awhile before glancing over at me again.

"For you, Shadow," he mouthed, and then he turned his attention back to the ball. It was coming toward him at a faster pace, like time was beginning to return to normal. Jack bounced up and down twice and then started walking toward the ball. Then, I saw him lift a foot higher than usual, and he bounced on his back foot. He repeated this, hunched shoulders with a wide grin on his face.

Jack had formed the Joker's strange gait within those long seconds. He sauntered toward the ball and then bounced once before swinging his leg, his foot connecting with the ball, slipping underneath it and smacking it with a loud crack.

Time returned to normal, and the ball soared up into the air, out into the field. I watched as Jack's team cheered him on as he raced around the bases. He ran around them twice and then bounced into home. With two points in the start of the game, Jack's team jumped on him, high-fiving and clapping him on the back.

His smile was wide with his team members, but not as wide as when he met my eyes.

I surfaced from my memory-dream as the Joker shifted beside me. When he moved, a whiff of cold air blew between us, and I shivered, cuddling deeper into his bare chest for his body warmth.

"Just a bit chilly," the Joker's voice said, close to my head. He pushed himself up with an arm, and I sensed his body moving over mine. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, seeing his muscles rippling easily in his lean frame.

His curly green-tinted hair fell in his face, but he used a hand to push it back casually as his brown eyes met mine, stirring my emotions instantly. He brought a hand to my face, tucking a strand of red hair behind my ear, so gently. I simply gazed into his eyes, understanding the secrets that he had hidden from me.

Everything about him called out to me. His body heat radiating off him that tumbled over me. His strong body that was shaped so perfectly. His scars that defined who he was. His title and his name…I knew them both now; his deepest secrets were mine. I lifted a hand and touched his bare chest, feeling his heat warm my fingers. The Joker may be a mass-murdering terrorist, but he knew what he was doing. I couldn't stop myself. He was so sexy, scars and all.

"C'mon, Shadow," the Joker said, gently drawing away from me. "We can't stay in bed all day."

"Ya know, we could," I told him, smirking.

The Joker erupted with laughter, but he climbed out of bed anyway, moving about the room, pulling on his clothing and tossing mine at me before heading into the bathroom to reapply his makeup. "No-no-no-no, Shadow. I've got ah-nother idea."

I smirked and leaned over the edge of the bed, pulling on my leather pants. I had just lifted my shirt over my head when the Joker suddenly dragged me down on the bed. I laughed, amused with my arms trapped in my shirt over my head as the Joker hovered over me, his face newly painted.

"On second thought," he drawled, "You're simply too irresistible." He giggled before leaning in and kissing me pleasantly.

I smiled into the kiss as I slipped my arms out of my entrapping shirt.

Then, there was a rapid knock on the door.

The Joker stiffened and pushed himself up. As he moved away, I grabbed his jacket and yanked him back. I groped for his lips before I pressed mine against his again. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kept the Joker with me. He relaxed, forgetting about the intruder.

"Boss?" Whoever it was started pounding on the door, like they were desperate about something. The Joker and I openly ignored them. He began kissing my neck while I tried to come up with some kind of comeback.

"Boss, it's really important!" The desperate guy on the other side of the door pulled the last straw. I heard the door slam open. Without thinking, I reached for the nightstand where I knew a gun rested. My hand met the Joker's; he was reaching for it too. We picked up the gun, aimed at the door, and pulled the trigger – without breaking the kiss.

There was the echoing gunshot and a thud as the man dropped.

I started laughing, pulling away from the Joker to do so. He joined me without hesitation. We dropped the gun on the floor, and the Joker kissed me again, only able to peak me since he was still laughing hysterically.

"Boss!" The Joker and I cut off our laughter sharply, glaring over at the next intruder at the door. It was Dean. Even though he was clearly shocked by seeing me with the Joker on the bed, he managed a clear, steady voice as he said, "The prisoner's escaped."

"WHAT?" The Joker rolled off me, bouncing to his feet while I scrambled to pull on my shirt again. When I turned back, the Joker had Dean by his shirt, shaking him. "How did he get out?" he yelled.

"Peter was on guard, and when I went to take over, the door was broken and Hawkins and Peter were gone," Dean explained. The Joker looked over his shoulder to see me approaching, and then he broke into a run down the hallway. Without hesitation, I fell in behind him, and Dean followed suite.

The three of us burst out into the hangar where all of the Joker's men were hanging around, completely confused. The Joker hit the railing so hard that I was scared he would flip right over it and fall to the ground below, but he caught himself, gripping the railing tightly.

"What car is missing?" the Joker shouted, his voice deep with rage.

I came up behind him as one of the guys responded, "The Volvo, boss." A savage growl emanated from the Joker, and his knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the railing. I placed a cautious hand on his arm, and he jumped, nearly losing his anger as he whipped his head in my direction.

"I'm going after him," I said.

"Shadow, I don't want you-."

"We've already decided that you're not my boss," I growled at him, cutting him off. "We're partners, equals. I'm just telling you the base of what I'm doing." Then, I winked as I added, "I'll improvise from there."

He stared for a few moments, like he didn't know how to respond to that, but then his mouth stretched into a smile, not his best but it was better than nothing. I patted his arm and then headed down the stairs, two steps at a time.

The Joker's men moved out of my way as I headed toward where the Volvo had been parked. I took a deep breath and activated my shadow vision, revealing the past traces of the car. Crouching, I touched the ground and closed my eyes.

A tingling sensation shot through me, and I shuddered as my shadow connected to the past shadow of the car. A vivid image appeared in my mind's-eye, the edges hazed with purple.

The Volvo was still parked there; I was a mere few inches away from the bumper. Footsteps clattered down the metal stairs from the upstairs catwalk. I turned my head, spotting Jason as he leapt the last few steps. Someone was running behind him, and as Jason headed toward the open hangar door, that someone – Peter – said, "Not that way, stupid! The car's over here!"

"What is she doing, boss-?" The man cut off with a pained grunt and a cry of pain as he got punched in the face, knocking him to the ground.

"Speak again, and I'll cut your tongue out-ah," the Joker threatened. "Break her concentration, and I'll kill you; and I won't be using a gun. Got it?"

I smiled in spite of myself, even though – I was watching Jason make a break for the Volvo. Peter beat him to it and slammed him up against the driver's door. "I'll drive," he said, angrily. He shoved a cell phone into Jason's hand and said, "Call your pals and tell them where you were taken." He pulled Jason away from the car and opened the driver's side.

Jason lunged at him, but Peter spun, like he was sensing it, and slammed the lieutenant down to the ground. "Don't turn on me, Hawkins," Peter growled, his voice deep, savage, inhuman. "Get in the car and call the cops. Otherwise, I'll shot you right now." To prove his point, he pulled his gun from his pocket and aimed it at Jason's head. "Understand?"

Jason swallowed and then nodded. Peter took his gun away and stepped into the car. The lieutenant hesitated, but when he saw Peter looking at him through the window, he scrambled to his feet and moved around to climb into the passenger's seat.

When Peter started the car, I stood up and started to follow – but a hand clasped my upper arm, holding me back. I turned my head, to see nothing, but I knew – I would be looking right into the Joker's face.

"Let go," I whispered. "I have to follow the shadow trail." His grip slacked and then tightened, like he was uncertain. In my shadow vision, the Volvo was getting away. I felt something slip into my pocket; then, I tore my arm away from him and broke into a run, racing after the Volvo.

I shadowed to the roof of buildings the Volvo drove by, keeping my eye on it and also looking out for the possible appearance of the Joker's pal, the Batman. Even if he wasn't in the past, it was likely he could be there when I appear, but it was a risk I had to take.

Suddenly, my shadow vision snapped off as I leaned over the edge of a business building. I took that as a sign that the trail ended below me, so I shadowed down to the street, standing by a lamppost.

I heard a soft rumble down the road, and I glanced over my shoulder, seeing that the street was empty, except for a silver Volvo, the one I was trailing. The rumble told me that either Peter had left the car on or someone was in there. After checking for any sign of other cars, I stepped off the sidewalk, jaywalking toward the Volvo.

The car's headlights flashed on, and I blinked, momentarily blinded. I lifted a hand to protect my eyes from the light, coming to a halt in the middle of the street. The Volvo rumbled again, and I knew whoever was in the car was getting ready…for what? Blinding me with his highbeams was a hint.

Abruptly, the Volvo jerked forward as the driver slammed on the gas pedal, and it picked up speed smoothly and rapidly. I turned and ran, jumping back onto the sidewalk, but the driver was desperate, running the car up onto the curb behind me.

The Volvo was mere inches from me as I turned the corner sharply, hugging the brick wall. As the car spun the corner, I slipped back the way I had come, and I could hear the squealing of the tires as the driver backed up and straightened, heading for me again.

I stopped in the middle of the street again as an idea popped into my head. Turning around, I noticed that the driver had stopped the car at the end of the street, making it rumble as he jerked on and off the gas pedal, revving the engine. Did he think that would scare me?

I had to provoke him. I outstretched my arms and stood there, waiting. When he didn't come, I shouted, "Hit me, coward! I dare you!"

The driver slammed down on the gas pedal, and the tires squealed in protest. I watched as the car lunged forward, speeding toward me.

For a moment, I feared for my safety, my life. Whoever was driving that car – whether it was Peter or Jason – one of them wanted me dead. If they actually hit me, I hoped it would be a flash of pain, and I'd probably lose my legs with the compact. What was worse: me dying or the Joker's reaction to my death?

The car sped toward me, and when it was mere inches from me, I jumped, shadowing as I did. I landed on the top of the car and didn't get a chance to gain hold on it because it was so smooth. I fell off the Volvo and rolled on the ground, scrapping myself in the progress.

I came to a stop, and I gasped with pain. My mind raced, finding the agony's locations. Both knees, my right leg, left hand, left elbow, left side, right shoulder, left cheek, back of head, over my right eye…there was the pain and the trickle of blood coming from some places. It had been more the scrapping rather than the bruising, but I was definitely going to hurt tomorrow morning.

I winced as I sat up, locating the car – far down the road and in the process of using the emergency break. Climbing painfully to my feet, I registered that even though the Volvo was using the break, it was going too fast to slow down in time. The driver tried turning the steering wheel, but the car skidded and slammed into an arcade building at the end of the street.

The front windows of the arcade broke as the car went through sideways, coming to a stop in the lobby. It rested there, unmoving, and it didn't seem like there was any movement from inside the car. I blinked for a few moments, unsure of what to do, but when nothing happened, I checked my condition.

The knees of my jeans were torn, showing scrapped and bleeding knees. I couldn't move my right leg without it hurting, and my left side ached but because I wore a leather jacket, it saved my side, elbow, and shoulder from any scrapping or blood. They hurt nonetheless. I must have hit my head, and my cheek and over my eye blood was tricking. I would survive though.

My left hand was in the worst condition as I had attempted to catch myself and scrapping up my entire palm, tearing the skin. Strangely enough, it didn't hurt, like it was beyond pain.

There was still no movement from the Volvo so I started forward, walking with a limp as my right leg hurt whenever I shifted my weight on it. I approached the car and bent over slightly, peeking in through the back window. I couldn't see the driver, but I saw the passenger's head hanging over the side of the seat.

Being careful with the broken glass, I climbed over the car to reach the passenger's side. The door was jammed in, but I propped a foot against the side of the Volvo, grabbed the handle in both hands, and heaved.

It gave way, and I was nearly thrown backwards onto a load of broken glass. I caught myself on the windowframe, cutting my right hand on the shards of glass there, instead. Whimpering, I jerked my hand away and examined it, picking out a small piece from a cut. Despite the bloodied hands, I reached inside the Volvo, unbuckling the passenger's seatbelt and then pulling him out.

I dragged him to the floor and then bent over him. Even with the blood that caked the right side of his face, I recognized Jason Hawkins.

In my pocket, a cell phone vibrated. It must have been what the Joker had dropped into my pocket earlier, before I left. As I pushed Jason's hair out of his face, I reached to grab the phone before I missed the call. A hand snapped down on my wrist, and I felt the cold kiss of a gun barrel pressed against my neck.

I could hear my capturer's uneven breathing as he slowly reached into my pocket, pulling out the phone. I heard the cell hit the ground off to the side, sliding under an arcade game.

"Drop all weapons you might have and stand up," Peter's rough voice ordered. I lifted my free hand up in surrender as I slowly straightened. "I've had enough of your meddling in my affairs."

I jerked my head away from the end of the gun, spinning as my free hand came up and grabbed the weapon, forcing my attacker to aim the gun high. My arms were crossed in front of my face as I jerked his other arm up painfully.

I looked into his face, finding blood dripping down his facial expression from his forehead from hitting it on the steering wheel. I tried to hide my confusion as I said, "Your affairs? Like I purposely meddle in them."

His lifeless eyes glared at me. "You've been too much trouble to be left alive," he growled.

"I'm a lot of trouble?" I sneered. "Maybe you don't realize that the Joker enjoys having me around."

"That's because you have him under your control," he snapped as he struggled against me, trying to turn his gun down to aim at my head.

I kneed him hard, reaching for the weapon, but he clenched it harder, to stop me from retrieving it. He pushed away from me but kept a hand on my wrist. "Wanna try again, Peter?" I asked him tauntingly. "Why is it that you care so much about the Joker?"

Peter didn't respond, pointing his weapon at me. I brought up my leg, kicking the gun out of his hand. As he gasped in pain, I punched him in the face, freeing my wrist from his grasp. "Does the Joker really seem like a man anyone can control?" I demanded.

Peter narrowed his eyes, and then suddenly, burst into a fit of laughter, his laugh sounding deep and…insane. It caused cold shivers to run up my spine. He couldn't stop, seeming to choke every time he inhaled. I didn't think I had said anything funny, and this was surely too scary for me to take anymore.

Abruptly, Peter cut off his laughter and glared at me, his expression stoical. "A shadow like you deserves nothing but death, and only a hunter can give it to you," he sneered. "A corrupt policeman like him" – he jerked his head in Jason's direction – "Wouldn't do it, even to an abomination like you."

I blinked, shocked by his choice of words, but had to overcome my surprise as he charged at me, pulled out a dagger.

I shadowed to his left, and he surprised me when he instantly changed his course, aiming at me again. At the last possible second, I twirled out of the way, but his dagger still nicked my bloody hand as I went.

The nick had done more than it should have. I countered by tripping Peter, causing him to slam into a car-racing game, but I recognized the effects of an anesthetic.

A wave of drowsiness flooded through me quicker than anything else could have. For some reason, the drug also awakened all the pain in my body, stealing a scream of agony from me as I dropped to my knees.

Peter laughed, loving the sound of my anguish, and it made me angry. I never liked hearing someone laugh at my pain; if anything, the Joker was an exception because he helped me while he laughed at me. Peter's cruel laughter wasn't something I liked in the first place.

Even as the anesthetic flooded through my veins, my shadow state kicked in, pushing me beyond the limits of my physical body, turning my entire form into a solid shadow. Rage fueled my new state; it was a drug pulsing through me, holding off the anesthetic. Shock flashed in Peter's eyes as I pushed myself to my feet.

I jerked my head to the side, cracking my neck loudly. "C'mon then, Peter. Let's see if you're good enough to catch me again."

Peter came forward but ducked as I swung at him. He dove in to try to stab me again, but with a burst of energy, I pushed off the ground and somersaulted over him, landing and purposely falling backward to knock him to the ground. He didn't expect the sudden weight so he fell over. I kicked off the ground, backward somersaulting over him and coming to my feet.

Grabbing the back of his jacket, I heaved him off the floor and kicked him in the face. He cried out in pain, blood bursting from his nose as he dropped the dagger. I stomped hard on the back of his head, slamming it down onto the ground.

I thought I had the upper-hand, but he knocked my free leg out from underneath me with his arm. Rather than fall to the ground, I shadowed myself upright a few feet away.

Peter jumped to his feet, grabbing his dagger, and raced toward me. I couldn't move fast enough so he slammed into me, my hand catching his wrist to halt the dagger's descent. Peter smashed me into a rifle arcade game, causing the butts of the play rifles to poke painfully into my back.

A gun fired, and Peter gritted his teeth in pain. His body was pressed against mine as he tried to keep me trapped against the arcade game. I didn't dare turn my head to see who had shot him because I had to focus on the slowly descending poisoned dagger.

Peter, despite being shot, used his strength against mine, bringing his weapon closer and closer to my chest.

Another gunshot went off, and Peter's strength faltered for a second, giving me a chance to push the dagger away from me a bit. The anger that had pushed back the effects of the anesthetic was wearing off; my strength was failing, and my resistance lessened. Beads of sweat dripped down my face as I watched the dagger drop suddenly.

At the same time, I kicked his leg, unbalancing him slightly. Peter missed his target – my chest – and stabbed me in the arm.

I hollered in agony as the burn of the poison burst from the dagger. Peter, his weapon finally in his prey, stepped back, watching me as I slipped off the arcade game, collapsing onto my side.

Hot pain shot up my arm, making me scream involuntarily. My right hand flew to the dagger hilt, and I yanked it out, gasping with pain. The anesthetic was taking rapid effect. My body started convulsing against my will. I tried to fight it, to stop my body's movements, but to no avail.

Someone crouched down beside me, and I looked up to see Peter smirking down at me as he produced a pair of handcuffs, which he used to secure me on part of the arcade game. "It's only a matter of time, Shadow," he said, cruelly. "You can't fight the anesthetic forever. When you're out, the poison will kill you. I will finally have my boss, with you out of the picture."

"What do…you have against me?" I gasped, struggling against the burning pain.

"Everything!" he snarled, angrily. "You took the boss away from me! He's mine! You're not worthy of him! I've done everything for him! He doesn't know what you've done to him!" His nostrils flared. "Once you're dead, he'll be free of your spell, and he'll come back to me."

It struck me. Why had Peter been so protective of the Joker all this time? How he hated me! And now, it made sense to me; it just clicked.

"You're Hunter," I said, through trembling lips. "…you're in love with the Joker, with the Boss."

Sick passion crossed his face at the mention of his boss's name. Then, hatred replaced it. "You're a stupid woman. It should've been so obvious!"

"Were you trying to make it obvious?" I asked, my words slurring slightly.

"Of course not, stupid woman!" Peter shouted. He stood up angrily and looked about the ruined arcade. "This wouldn't be possible if the Boss hadn't taken the good lieutenant," he said, like he was talking to himself.

"Jason was part of this?"

"He worked for me." Peter turned his head and grinned menacingly at me. "Had you killed him when you went to visit him, this wouldn't have happened. You'd be safely in the Boss's arms." He growled, his body shaking with pure fury. "But, it was your fault that you got into this situation, all yours."

That inhumane laughter erupted from deep within him, rippling through his body. I tuned him out, focusing on my current state. Bleeding and drugged with anesthetic and poison, yet the anesthetic seemed to have run its course. My body wasn't convulsing involuntarily, but I still trembled. Now, as long as I didn't lose conscious, I should be okay, right?

I heard a grunt over my head, and I looked, seeing Peter holding onto someone's arms wrapped around his neck. Over Peter's shoulder, Jason's face appeared.

Peter doubled over and dug his elbow into Jason's chest, knocking the wind out of him. He flipped him over his shoulder easily, throwing him down on the ground. I thought I heard something crack as Jason's back hit the floor, and I winced.

Peter crouched on one knee and grabbed Jason's throat in one hand. His eyes were serious, evil. "Turning on me, Hawkins? Do you really want to die?"

"I didn't…agree to Jane…getting killed…" Jason gasped, his hands struggling at his neck.

"You didn't mention her in our agreement, Hawkins," Peter said, his voice lifeless, sinister. "Maybe you should have thought things through a little more." He tightened his grip, blocking off Jason's windpipe.

"Let go of him, Peter," I said, pushing myself up slowly to a sitting position, "You're here for me, not for him. If you want to kill me, go ahead."

"I'll let the anesthetic do that," he replied, throwing a cold look in my direction. He narrowed his eyes and then released Jason before standing. I watched him as he walked over to the ruined Volvo and popped the trunk. He reached inside, and after pulling something out, he slammed the trunk shut. Then, he headed straight for me.

"No!" Jason shouted, "Don't kill her!" He had seen what Peter was holding, but I didn't see it until it was too late.

Peter swung, a whistling sound in the air as his weapon stuck me. Metal connected with my head, and an audible crack echoed in the arcade. The intense pain lasted for the moment the metal bat had connected, and then it was gone.

I fell to the ground, lifelessly, my body numb. In my head, even with my eyes open, all my memories flashed across my mind's eye, like a movie on the fastest fast forward there was. Colors, pictures, movement, everything went across my mind and out of it.

It was all there for one moment, and then, all I had was an endless pit of empty darkness. I was there, then gone.