I forgot about the fear gas, the chase, Nightwing, Tiger's Eye, the Joker… it was all gone. What remained was my father and I.

"Please don't kill me…" he begged. He must have assumed I was Batman or Nightwing, because I had never seen him so terrified.

I stared in disbelief at the shell of a man I used to call my father. He looked so frail… so fragile now.

Rage, I realized, was much more potent than any chemically induced fear. My adrenaline took over.

"Look at you" I growled softly, "you're nothing now."

He inched pathetically backwards, and for the first time in my life, I felt power over him. I hadn't realized how hard I had been clenching my fists until I saw him eying them.

"Please!" he pleaded, " I can get you anything… anything you want!"

Anything I want.

I walked briskly towards him, picking him up by the collar of his orange jumper and lifting him off the ground.

"Anything I want?"

He was cowering.

"You'll never be able to give me back what you stole."

His eyes widened as the poison from my words made its way into his veins. As if waking from a dream, he finally recognized my voice. I saw thousands of memories flash across his face. He couldn't see the face behind my mask, but he knew who I was.

As seconds of silence passed, gunshots fired from outside, catching me off guard. With strength I wasn't expecting, he threw me off of him and into a wall. As he disappeared further into the abandoned apartment building, I ran after him.

I followed his footsteps in the darkness as they pounded down the hallway and into another open flat.

Turning the corner, a large object came crashing down on the back of my head. I fell forwards onto a pile of wooden panels.

With a grunt, I quickly sat up, regaining my composure. He was nowhere to be seen.

"Come out and fight me, you fucking bastard!" I screamed, jumping back up.

I walked silently from one room to the next, listening for sound. Moving into the kitchen, the orange hue of street lamp lights illuminated the grime collecting on counter surfaces and old, used dishes. Sleeping bags, trash, bottles and tattered sheets were strewn about, most likely abandoned by homeless Gothamites.

Something small brush against my leg. Turning quickly around, I scanned the floor to discover an alley cat that had come looking for food. As it purred against my leg, I felt something sharp slam into my side. At first I thought I had collided with the kitchen counter, but then I felt a warmth running down the inside of my suit.

"What a surprise, Lucille!" my father screamed.

A bloodied knife clattered to the ground as I was pushed up against a kitchen wall. I kicked him hard in the stomach and he released me with a grunt. I stumbled towards the bloodied knife, but before I could reach it, his foot collided with the side of my face.

My side and head throbbing in pain, I realized how defenseless I really was. Vigilantes were not equipped for killing. He picked up the knife and came at me again. My hands met his as we struggled for control over the knife. I threw him onto the floor, and screamed as the knife sliced into my arm.

"What are you trying to do, Lucille? Kill me?"

The groveling man from before had now regained much of his vigor.

"Yes," I whispered, "that's exactly what I'm going to do-"

I could feel blood pooling in my suit. His face was morphing into something unworldly as the room spun around me. Crawling away from him, I found an empty beer bottle on the floor. Smashing it in half, I hurled it in his direction, trying to maintain some distance.

Unphased, he came at me again with the knife. This time, I was able to parry quick enough to throw him onto the fresh shards of broken glass. His scream filled my ears as I collected the knife from beside him.

"You're a pathetic disgrace, Lucille," he spat. "Just like your mother… You're nothing but bad luck."

I pushed his body further into the broken glass with my foot. I was going to enjoy every second of this. As I grew weak from blood loss, not knowing whether or not any of my major arteries had been punctured, I realised this may be a suicide mission. I didn't care anymore. At least he'd be dead. I'd have my revenge.

But then, a voice lingered into the back of my mind. Growing louder with each passing, precious second.

Don't do this Lucy. Don't. Don't become like him.

I shook the repeating disembodied voice from my mind. Between the fear toxin and my blood loss, I figured I was beginning to hallucinate.

Lucy, sweetheart, let it go.

It was my mother.

Suddenly hit with a wave of nausea, I felt my legs collapse from underneath me. As I vomited on the floor, the world around me darkened. Hardly able to lift my head, I realized my father had disappeared. Had I hallucinated this whole thing?

Then I heard footsteps from behind me.

"Just do it" I managed to spit out as I began to sob. I was delirious, covered in vomit and blood. The last thing I heard before going unconscious was the sound of a familiar voice.

"That's quitters talk Luce. People like us, we don't quit".

I woke up gasping. Sweat was dripping down my face. My mask was gone. I tried moving my body, crying out as I felt a surge of pain in my side. Everything was dark.

Trying frantically to recollect the events prior to this moment, I did my best to piece together the night… Alfred, John and I were in the manor. We were drinking smoothies… and then… the gala, explosions, ghostly figures on the street…. My father… and then?

"Lucy, Lucy, Lucy" purred a voice from the darkness.

Suddenly it was intensely bright. A flood light from above illuminated an even brighter, white room. I squinted as pain erupted in my head.

"You're always full of surprisessss."

As my eyes adjusted, I took in my surroundings. It was an old, dingy, windowless room. Leaning against the open doorway, there he was, his grimace accentuated by the scars.

I blinked, looking around. I was wearing a bloodied hospital gown.

"Where am I? What did you do to me?" I spoke hoarsely, feeling as though my mouth was full of sand. I tried to move my body and realized I was tied to the bed. Was this Arkham Asylum?

"I had to play nurse," he said, strolling towards me, revealing his bloodied hands from behind his back.

My side was especially sore, but since there seemed to be no more blood leaking onto the bed, he must have stitched me up. I wasn't sure whether to thank him for saving my life or ask him why I was here with him… strapped to a psych ward bed. But I didn't have time to ask.

"The whole caped crusader getup doesn't really suit you, babe. Can't see yer pretty face."

"How did you know it was me…"

His grin couldn't have gotten any larger as he leaned against the bed.

"Oh, please! The way you ran after your faaaather… Why didn't you go through with it, Luce? You know you wanted to…".

My head was spinning, recollecting the past events like a bad dream. Had he been there, watching?

"Go… go through with what?"

He grabbed my face hard, pressuring his thumbs and forefinger against my cheeks. As he leaned in, it sobered me with an instant uneasiness.

"KILL HIM, Lucy, why didn't you kill him" he growled. He was so close I could feel his breath on my face. His touch sent electricity through my body.

Suddenly he released me, swiftly straightening himself, folding his arms as if patiently waiting for an answer. I shook myself from a string of emotions.

"I-I couldn't…"

I thought of my mother's voice.

"You wouldn't!" he snapped. "You're still following everyone else's rules. You're not free - not yet…" He was pacing as he spoke.

I protested, straining enough that I felt something pop in my side. The warmth from hours before was there again.

The Joker frowned.

"Don't be feisty! You're ruining my work!"

"You took my clothes off!" I screamed in realization.

"I was gentle," he purred. I knew my face was glowing red.

"You liked having that power over him, didn't you?" he continued, sitting next to me. "Why don't you just let yourself have that? Let yourself live a little! If you don't start doin' things that you want to do, you'll end up like the wannabe batboy!" he said, letting out a wheezing laugh.

I ignored him.

"Why won't you just leave me alone…"

He leaned in towards me.

"Because you're just too much fun, Luce" he said, licking his scars. I was so angry at everything, but his eyes always hypnotized me.

"Stop with the games…" I whispered. I realized the more I spoke, the more the stitches were coming undone. I had to relax.

"You're not like him, so stop pretending to be." He pulled out some supplies from next to me and began restitching my side.

"My diagnosis," he continued melodically, "is that you are going to feel very trapped when you go running back to your boyfriend…"

By now, he must have known about John being Nightwing. I had fucked everything up. I had given myself away chasing after my father. I had put him in danger.

"There's a reason you ran into me, dollface. Your past is keeping you from embracing the present moment and all you need is a littttttle push… from someone whose been there… someone… like meee."

I thought back to his memories. Covered in blood, holding the knife in his hand. He had done what I should have done the night before.

After he was done stitching me up he leaned in towards me. His makeup was mostly wiped away with sweat and I could feel my heart beating fast.

"You want me to murder my father… just like you murdered yours…" I whispered.

I let his ungloved, bloodied hand touch my face. I felt his thoughts.

The Joker knew it too - how similar we were. However, he also knew what was truly separating us. The final act of revenge. Murder. I still was straddling the line between morality and madness.

Why couldn't I fall for someone like John? Molded by the violence of the mob, but wrapped in the love of my mother... Why was I battling her voice of reason? It was tearing me apart. I felt a tear fall down my cheek.

And then, before I knew what was happening, I felt his lips against mine.

At first, I struggled against him... the scars pressing into my face. I could feel the rest of his caked makeup rubbing against my cheeks. But slowly, as he continued to kiss me, my mind was flooded by him. I had no choice but to let him in.

I thought I would fear looking into his mind, but the further I fell into it, the more I wanted to see… I was Alice and he was the Mad Hatter. His perspective was so different from mine. He did things because it thrilled him. It made him feel alive. Everything was a game. He didn't desire what most people would kill for - money, love, power… He had no concept of empathy. His actions were fueled by what he could do to the world around him. With the amount of natural intelligence he harbored, he was a genius with a god complex, free from the emotions of a normal human being. A psychopath.

I realized as I began to kiss him back, that I was envious of his apathy. It was a numbing sensation that I had lacked my entire life… The opposite of my insight that allowed me to feel everything from everyone all at once. I felt everything and nothing… It was like nothing I had experienced before.

As I strained to prolong the kiss, he pulled back quickly, surveying my side.

"Ah tah-tah-tah. Don't make another mess…"

I was trying to open my mouth to speak, but the words weren't coming. My world was dark again.