A/N – *very long drawn out awkward sigh* Hiiiii…. So yeah….someone randomly added the story to their watch list, which caused an email to appear in my inbox, which prompted me to reread what I had done, which prompted me to think about where the story could go, which in the end prompted the idea for this and the next chapter. I don't know if I'll keep going after the next chapter – we'll see. Please keep in mind that I wrote the beginning of both scenes of this chapter over a year and a half ago, came down with writer's block, then got bored BEFORE trying to pick up where I left off. My beta reader (sister) said the beginning doesn't flow quite right, but I think in order to move on you're all just going to have to deal with it BWAHAHAHA!

Since Dent's death and the murder charges were brought up against him, Batman had not made a habit of hanging around the Police Commissioner's office. Unfortunately, current circumstances made the meeting necessary.

"I agree with you," Gordon was saying. "But I don't think anything I say will change Garcia's mind. He is as determined to have the dinner as ever. He won't even consider an alternate location for the damned event."

Gordon was referring to Garcia's benefactor dinner; it was a dinner to thank past campaign donors and make connections with future ones. Everyone with any kind of money within the city was invited. Unfortunately, one of those benefactors was the Cobblepot family, and Garcia had agreed to use the Iceberg Lounge, the ritzy nightclub owned by the younger brother, as the dinner's location.

Francis, the chosen heir of the Cobblepot fortune, was a fairly greedy man who would probably ruin his family in a decade or two, and his younger brother, Oswald, was even worse. Oswald was furious to be cut off from the majority of the family money when the elder Cobblepots met their suspicious end. Though his yearly stipend was far from meager, his lust for wealth and status was seemingly unquenchable. He'd opened the exclusive nightclub a few years ago so he could socialize among Gotham's elite without being overshadowed by his older brother. Which would not have bothered Batman at all if he didn't know Gotham's elite personally.

"Do you think they'll target the dinner?" Gordon asked, referring to the Jester/Joker problem. He thought about the funeral procession which had lead to his faked death. If they knew there would be a terrorist threat they could attempt to prepare, but right now the police didn't have the manpower to spare half a unit to guard the place arbitrarily.

"If it was the Joker alone, no," Batman growled back. "As random as he is, he does have a pattern. He sends warnings to taunt his opponents; it's a game to him. However," Gordon's head bowed at the reluctant acknowledgment.

"He specializes in being unpredictable," Gordon finished for him. "And we have no idea if the Jester shares this pattern. The fact that they're most likely planning something together means we have absolutely no idea if and when they'll strike."

Gordon looked up when he felt a breeze to his side; Batman was gone. He sighed; even knowing Batman had to reopen the window five feet away in order to exit the office, he still hadn't noticed. Sometimes he wished he could meet the man under the mask, or at least sit down with him long enough to ask a few questions – such as where exactly does someone learn how to vanish into thin air?

Shaking his head to clean his mind of useless ponderings he focused on the more daunting event of the benefactor dinner. Not only did he have to worry about looming terrorism, but as Commissioner he had to actually attend the party. Trying to keep track of security and terrorist was hard enough, but add to that the stiffness of a tuxedo and the discomfort of pretending you have anything in common with the trust-fund brigade, as Harvey had once called them, and faking his own death again was sounding like a better idea by the hour.

*the next day*

Somewhere in the suburbs of Gotham, a psychopath was leaning against a table in a basement in his shirtsleeves, staring at a table of elements with a bowl of microwave popcorn at his side. His mind, as usual, was entertaining itself as he thought.

Cadmium – toxic. "Death."

His tone was neutral; someone could almost call it his normal voice if it wasn't so creepy. There were white boards around him; the walls were covered in equations and random thoughts. The Joker himself was mildly pleased; it had taken him less time to develop the vicious little concoction than predicted.

Iodine 129 and 131 – emits lethal levels of beta and gamma radiation respectively. "Death. Death."

All his tests had been successful; the cages around him were proof of it. All he needed now was a human test subject. He sighed – henchmen were never too happy to come down to his 'lab' in the first place – it would be a pain, but a human test subject was essential to his project.

Cesium 137 – also emits lethal levels of beta and gamma radiation. "Death."

Fine – it wasn't essential; he just wanted to see it in action.

Mercury, Thallium, Lead – all toxic in small amounts. "Death. Death. Death."

There was a light knock on the door and the Joker gritted his teeth as Happy-Girl bounced into the room. After almost two weeks in the Jester's hideout, he still wasn't sure if he didn't mind the girl, or hated her. There were times when the only thing stopping him from cutting her face open was his desire to play out his game with the Jester. However, there had been a number of times when watching her execute anything from henchmen to one of her many pets with that creepily genuine smile was incredibly entertaining.

"What'cha doin', Jo?"

On the other hand, he was fairly certain he hated the nickname she had given him an hour after he had entered the house. In retaliation he had given both the Jester and her companion nicknames, but unfortunately neither of them showed any irritation with it. In fact the girl seemed to respond to anything, and most of the henchmen just called her Girl.

"What are you do-ing here?" he asked, watching her for a moment. "Did Jes send you to, uh, kill me?"

"Nope!" she chirped. She shook her head, which made her pigtails fly wildly around her head, and skipped up to the cage that held almost two dozen lab mice. The Joker turned back to his chart as she selected one and began petting it.

Radon – emits lethal amounts of alpha radiation. "Death." Radium – emits lethal levels of alpha and gamma radiation. "Death."

"What'cha do'in?" she repeated her question as she lifted the mouse in the air and made it soar around. "Still work'in on that chemistry project?"

Thorium – emits lethal levels of alpha and gamma radiation. "Death," the Joker replied. He ate a handful of popcorn and turned back towards the girl. "Most elements are so boring; the only way to kill someone with them is to deprive or, or to force more into them than they're used to." "Some elements," his tongue flicked the corner of his mouth and disappeared again. "Some elements or isotopes will just kill you. Plu-tonium emits lethal levels of alpha, beta, and gamma rad-i-ation. Death. You know that mouse is dead?"

The girl smiled happily as she nodded. "It's still fuzzy, and it doesn't scream when I do this!" The Joker had to grin as she twisted the head off the dead rodent.

"I thought you liked it when they scream," Joker said. The first ten minutes of that dog's pained barking had been amusing, but after an hour he had enough.

"It depends what mood she's in!" was the cheerful reply. Happy-Girl never called the Jester by any name other than Ma'am. Joker had noticed a fresh bruise around the girl's arm. The Jester did with the girl what she wanted to, and each cut and bruise only made the girl smile. Joker was grateful that the recent injuries probably meant no more screaming animals for a while. "So does this mean you're done with your science experiment?" Happy asked excitedly, having discarded the mouse carcass. "What's it do?"

"Why don't I, uh, show you?" Joker asked with a glint in his eye and a poorly suppressed grin on his face. "I've been looking for a, a human test sub-ject." His less-than-subtle threat was met with giggling.

"You're silly, Jo," she told him. He was about to slash her throat when she piped up again. "Want me to get'cha a henchman?" Now Joker was curious; the henchmen were nervous about coming down to the basement, and it was no secret Jester and he scared them, but they were equally scared of her, if not more-so. He doubted she could get any of them to come willingly, and she wasn't strong enough to force anyone to do anything.

Ten minutes later she returned with an unusually calm henchman. Though he went through henchmen quicker than a jackrabbit on fire, he had made a note that this man had been smart enough to avoid spending too much time with any of the psychopaths (which admittedly sounds like common sense, but finding a grunt with any of that was a tricky art in and of itself). The man was calm as he sat down on a chair in the middle of the lab, calm when the Joker approached him humming some unknown tune, and calm when he plunged a syringe into his neck. They waited.

"What-?" Happy started to ask, but was cut off by the henchman. The man had started to sweat, and finally looked scared instead of calm. His breathing started to hitch, as though he couldn't get enough air, and every gasping breath was accompanied by a 'ha' that sounded nothing but painful. His wide eyes were terrified and panicked, but the corners of his gasping mouth were being chemically forced upwards into a terrible, dying grin.

It took only ten minutes for the man to die, but even as his body collapsed and the 'ha's stopped, but his mouth remained in that terrifyingly delightful grin. Happy squealed and clapped in delight; the Joker laughed and jumped towards to corpse, clearly excited.

"Might have uh, uh, been too high a dose," he said when he finally stopped laughing. "Imagine what a gas form of this could do to a, a crowd." It was easy to tell when he was excited or manipulating people, because he stuttered more and his tone fluctuated. The fact that he usually sounded that way…well that wasn't his problem, now was it?

"High dose of what?" asked a bored voice. Happy bounced out of her stool as the Jester entered the room. Joker simply observed as the Jester's boot rotated the henchman's body; her hands never left her jean pockets. In the short amount of time they had spent together he had managed to discover very little about his new companions, especially her. He knew she was bored, and this game between them would end when she tired of it. He knew that while her expressions and voice were indeed as deliciously creepy as his, her adoption of facepaint, the purple pantsuit, and stuttering were just that – an adoption meant to scare the masses. The two never mentioned where they had been before they came to Gotham and when asked why their response was that they looking for some excitement.

Her eyes, which were actually more disturbing without the paint since the scars and split eyelids were more noticeable, met his. Neither moved for a long minute while another sequence of events played out between their minds. It was a test and a reason to continue working together – as long as they couldn't calculate the other's death, they remained interested enough to stay.

"It's a chemistry projects Jo's been work'in on!" piped up Happy. The Joker didn't know whether or not she knew about the mind game between him and the Jester, but she always seemed to know when the game was over and stayed silent until then. The Jester broke his gaze to look at the girl with a hint of a grin on her face. Stalemate again – but interesting use of the whiteboard and soap.

As she glanced back at the result of the 'chemistry project' a wide, clear grin spread over her face – a sure sign she had just thought of something…entertaining.

"You know, I've been thinking it's been getting too boring around here," she said. Her face kept twitching between her usual bored expression and excitement, and her tone fluctuating accordingly. "A…friend…told me about a party later on tonight, and I think your lit-tle project is just the spice it needs."

POST NOTE: My sister also mentioned to me that the Joker seemed very sane in this chapter. After thinking about it I decided to leave him alone for several reasons – 1) I wanted to move on. 2) He is a psychopath, and psychopaths think they are sane – "The only sane way to live in this world is without rules."