"HE DID WHAT?" Joker roared, as he looked over at the guard.

As soon as (Y/n) had left the facility Jack had made his way down to Joker's room; he knew that telling Arthur what had happened was probably a bad idea, deep down he knew that he should say nothing; but if the young woman thanked Arthur tomorrow for asking him to watch over her, then he would find out everything.

"He...... well he attacked her, he was trying to get her to do things with him in his office, if she refused, he said he would stop the interviews and make your life as difficult as possible." Jack said, watching as the feared clown sat back down on his bed, his eyes burning with anger.

"Then what?" Joker asked, looking back up at Jack.

"I don't know, next thing I know she seemed to change, and she pulls out a knife and holds it to Jackson's throat. You should have heard her Arthur, that girl is quite a pistol; she threatened to have him struck off, to drag his name, and the name of Arkham through the mud, she said by the time she finished he wouldn't be able to even get a job as a vet." Jack chuckled, stopping when he saw the look of utter outrage on Arthur's face.

"There's something else." Jack said, as Joker glared at him.

"What?" Joker growled, as Jack sat down next to him.

"Poor kid was in a real state when we left the office, she burst into tears, she was struggling to breath, it looked like she was going to pass out. I took her to the guard's room, and she told me she has that PTSD, she didn't tell me how she got it, she just said that the incident with Jackson brought it all back." Jack explained, as he saw Joker's expression change to one of concern.

He knew all too well what it was like to suffer from PTSD; to constantly be watching over your shoulder, to have difficulty trusting people. To have memories of those awful events brought back by simple things like smells, or even something someone might say innocently in passing; to find yourself right back at that moment, unable to escape. The exhausting feeling of constantly being on high alert just in case something happens. The flashbacks, the anxiety, the depression. He should have known when she told him about the killer, he should have instantly picked up that she suffered just like him; but she hid it so well, so confidently, that he was blinded to what was really going on.

A plan began to formulate in Joker's mind; he may have been currently incarcerated in this hell hole, but didn't mean that he didn't have influence on the outside world, and this time Jackson was not going to get away with this little "incident".

"Jack, I need you to do another little favour for me." Joker said as he got up from his bed and started to write something down on a piece of paper.

"I don't know Arthur, I shouldn't; I don't want to get involved in whatever you're thinking." Jack told him, shuddering slightly as Joker turned round to glare at him.

"So, you are telling me that you want Jackson to get away with what he did this evening? Everyone knows what he did to that woman last year, and nothing was done apart from she got several rounds of electroconvulsive therapy that she didn't need, and then she was shipped off upstate. Now you see firsthand what that motherfucker can do, and you're not going to help me?" Joker asked, walking back over to the guard.

Joker was many things; yes he had killed, he had brought Gotham to its knees and watched it burn, and despite his current situation he still had power, so he was not going to let Jackson hurt anyone else. Even though he had suffocated the woman he had believed was his mother, and he had to admit that he had enjoyed doing it, this was different. Jackson disgusted him, to harm a woman in such a way was deplorable, reprehensible, and even worse was the fact that the depraved Doctor's new victim was the Agent that he had found himself taking a liking to, despite their short time together. She had shown a special interest in him, even seeming to empathise with his situation, even though she was on the other side of the law; and now that she had been harmed, Joker felt that it was up to him to fix it as only he could.

"I know, but she's a Special Agent, she's trained to deal with things like that; I'm sure she'll be fine. Plus, she already put the fear of god in Jackson, I don't think he'd dare do anything more to the young lady." Jack said, looking up at Joker who was now standing over him.

Although Jack had known him for years, the difference between Arthur and Joker was considerable, and even though the pair got on well, Jack was beginning to feel that he was going to have little choice other than to do what the infamous inmate was asking him to do.

"Trained? Trained? I don't care how much training someone gets, no one is ever prepared to get attacked like that, and god only knows what could have happened if you hadn't been hanging around outside. Do you want to know why our little Special Agent has PTSD?" Joker asked, sitting back down next to Jack, as he pulled out two cigarettes from his packet and handed Jack one.

"Special Agent (Y/n) was nearly murdered by a serial killer, he slit her throat just before she blew the motherfuckers head off, kids lucky to be alive." Joker told Jack as he watched the older man's face drop.

"And she still does this?" Jack asked, taking a deep draw on his cigarette, looking at Joker in disbelief.

Joker shrugged. "Got to give her, her due, she's a fighter. Now, are you going to help or not?" Joker asked, holding out a piece of paper towards the guard.

"All you have to do is deliver this piece of paper to the address on the top when you finish here, my people will take care of the rest." Joker told Jack, holding out the piece of paper for him to take.

Jack looked at the piece of paper in Arthur's hand, tentatively taking it and putting it into his pocket; he knew that whatever was contained within the note was going to result in something bad happening, and obviously something bad happening to Doctor Jackson. Deep down he knew that if something did happen, he may be implicated in the crime, but as he remembered what he had seen and heard in that office not long before, he couldn't help but think that the agent was about the same age as his own daughter, and as a father he would want someone to help his child if she had found herself in the same situation.

"Ok Arthur, but this time, you owe me."

                                                      >>--------------------------------------<<

(Y/n) sat in her hotel room finishing off the bottle of wine that she had managed to pick up on her way back from Arkham; she didn't normally drink but after what she had been through, alcohol seemed like the best way to try and drown out the thoughts and feelings that continued to bombard her.

She looked out of the window at the lights of the city, the rain trickling in rivers down the glass making the world outside blurry, strangely rendering the dark city dreamily beautiful; a small smile came to her face as she wondered what the night had been like when Joker stood on the roof of the car surrounded by his followers. There was part of her that would have liked to have been in that crowd, to see Joker in all his glory, to feel the emotions that the throng must have felt, to experience first hand what Joker was like in real life, and not the caged animal that she saw.

She finished off the wine in the glass, slumping down in the chair next to her bed; even though it was late, (Y/n) was finding it impossible to sleep; she had tried everything she could to relax since she had got back from the asylum but nothing had worked. She wished she could speak to someone, tell them what she had been through, how she was feeling; but there was no one. She couldn't tell her mother, she would have a fit and demand that she came home, probably never letting her out of her sight again; she couldn't tell her boss, even though she and Steve were friends, if he found out what she had done, how she had threatened that pig of a man, she would be lucky if she didn't lose her job, and if she did managed to keep her job, he would probably never let her leave the office.

As she thought about it, she realised that the only person that she would feel comfortable talking to was Joker; she didn't need shrinks or counsellors, what she needed was someone that had been through their own pain. (Y/n) knew it was crazy, Arthur Fleck was a fucking killer, it didn't matter which way you painted it, he had killed, and in a way was as bad as the man that had tried to kill her; but he wasn't, and that was why she had been so fascinated by him in the first place, he was a one off, an anomaly, a glitching the system, and that was why she was able to empathise with him unlike any other killer she had ever spoken to before.

A sudden heavy knock at the door, brought her back from her thoughts; she quickly glanced at the clock on the table, noting it was 3am. Getting up she reached for her gun, hiding it behind her back as she made her way to the door.

"Who is it?" (Y/n) asked, looking through the small peephole in the door to see two men standing outside.

"Police miss, could we have a word?" One of the men said, as two badges were pushed up to the peephole.

Slowly (Y/n) opened the door to reveal two middle aged men who looked like that could both do with a shower and a good night's sleep.

"Special Agent (Y/n)? My name is Detective Murray, and this is Detective Green; we were wondering if we could possibly have a word with you?"

"I don't mean to be rude detective, but its 3 in the morning, and I'm trying to sleep. I have a long day tomorrow." (Y/n) said rather harshly, she was well versed in dealing with local police, and the GCPD didn't have the best reputation.

"I'm afraid it concerns your business here; we really need to speak with you." Detective Green said, trying to sound like one of those gruff, hardcore cops that you see on the TV; but coming across more as a whiny pain in the ass.

"I suppose you better come in then." (Y/n) said, opening the door to her room so that the two men could come in.

"Expecting someone?" Green asked, eyeing the gun in her hand.

"Well a girl can't be too careful; this is Gotham after all." (Y/n) chuckled, placing the weapon back in its holster.

"Ok, what's all this about?" She asked, sitting back down in the chair, waiting for the men to explain their presence.

"Do you know a Doctor Henry Jackson?" Murray asked, taking a seat across from (Y/n).

"Er........do you mean Doctor Jackson from Arkham? I don't know his first name." (Y/n) asked, trying to hide the sudden sense of dread that she felt. The bastard had called the cops, he had told them what she had done, she thought; trying to steady her heartbeat as she waited for the detectives to arrest her.

"Yes. We are afraid that we have to inform you that Doctor Jackson has been found dead, murdered; and according to the staff at the asylum, it would appear that you were one of the last people to see the victim alive. Could you possibly tell us what you were doing?" Murray asked, taking out his little notebook.

"Jesus!...... Well, I am currently speaking to one of the inmates as part of my work with the Behavioural Science Unit; a concession we had to make so that Arkham would allow me to speak to the gentleman, was that I have to meet with the doctor after every interview to fill him in on some of the things that have been said." (Y/n) told them, unable to believe that the man that had attacked her a matter of hours ago was now dead.

"I would hardly call Fleck a gentleman." Green scoffed, staring down at (Y/n).

"Um yes.......we need to speak to you about Fleck too." Murray said, glaring up at his partner.

"Look detective, lets skip the good cop, bad cop, 20 questions bullshit shall we, and get down to what you really want to know. I have permission from Arkham to undertake a series of interviews with one Mr. Arthur Fleck, to talk to him about the crimes that he committed before he was confined. I have never met Arthur Fleck before in any capacity and know nothing more about him than what is in his file. As far as Doctor Jackson is concerned, I met him twice, and we conversed for no more than 30 minutes in total; I know nothing about him and have never met him before. I am here to work; I am here to try and better understand the crimes of Mr. Fleck so that we may be able to prevent similar crimes to his in the future. I got back to the hotel at 6pm, which I am sure that the security footage will back up; and I have not left my room since. I haven't spoken to anyone on the phone, nor have I had any visitors, other than you two. I know no one, or have any connection to anyone in Gotham, and this is my first time in the city. Now, if you have any further questions, I suggest that you call on me at a more suitable hour, or you can contact my superior at Quantico." (Y/n) said indignantly, as she handed Murray, Steve's business card.

"Now, if you don't mind, I have work to do tomorrow, and I really could use some sleep." She said, rising from her seat, and making her way to the door, opening it in hopes that the two men would leave.

"Thank you for that." Murray said, slightly shocked, as he and Green made their way back into the hotel corridor.

"I'm afraid that you won't be able to continue your interviews with Fleck for a couple of days; we have to speak with him ourselves, as well as the staff. We need to ascertain Jackson's routines and his whereabout during the day; I hope you understand." Murray said, offering (Y/n) an apologetic smile.

"If you will give me your number, I will let you know when you can return to Arkham." Murray told her, handing her back to business card and his pencil.

"You don't think that Fleck was involved do you? I mean he's been locked in Arkham for some time now, surely he no longer holds any power?" (Y/n) said, writing down her number on the back of the card, and handing it back to Murray.

"You're right, you don't know about Fleck. Don't let the fact that he is locked up in that nut house fool you, that painted freak still has his followers, and those followers are willing to do whatever their demented master tells them to do. I would bet my life that Fleck is behind this, Jackson probably told him that smothering his mother really meant that he wanted to fuck her, and he took offence." Green spat out, seemingly irritated by (Y/n)'s question.

"You know something Detective Murray; if I were you, I would keep my partner well away from Fleck when you go and interview him. From what I do know, if detective Green goes in with an attitude like that, then Fleck is going to do nothing more than laugh and clam up, and you will get nothing out of him at all. Good night, detectives." (Y/n) said, slamming the door on the two men.

(Y/n) ran over to the minibar, throwing open the door, and grabbing the first bottle of hard liqueur that she could lay her hands on; pulling off the top, she took a gulp of the brown liquid, that burned as it made its way down her throat.

It couldn't be! Surely Joker couldn't be behind the murder of Jackson; but if he was, why would he have him killed? And then it clicked, Jack, her guardian angel! If it was true what Jack had told her, that Joker was concerned about her wellbeing, and if Jack had been and told him what he had witnessed in that office, then maybe, just maybe, Jackson had been killed because of her.

(Y/n) dropped into the chair, cradling the bottle against her chest; she couldn't pretend that she was sad that Jackson was dead, but if Joker had done it for her, would he blackmail her over what she did, or would he see it as some kind of favour? And if he did, would he want the favour returned?

Taking another gulp of the liqueur, she knew that there was nothing she could do now but wait.