Hidden Faces

A/N: sorry this has taken so long-my computer crashed...along with that, i had finals! Yipee... l:)

(eventful interrogator)

In the morning, Michelle rose to an un-familiar apartment complex. She sat up in the bed she was just in and stood, hearing a few 'whirring' sounds around the corner.

Following them, the sounds led her to a kitchen with Joker sitting on a stool with a white chef's hat on his head, bowl in hand, and another cooking utensil in his other hand which was, at the moment, causing the noise. Joker looked up.

"Aye, how's your mornin'?" He asked cheerily, grinning as he continued to bash the batter with the demented utensil. "…Gah! How do you women do it? Bake?"

Michelle sighed and smiled. "We manage…" She walked over to him and took the bowl and utensil from him and stared at the directions and continued to do as they said. Joker frowned and crossed his arms, a look of irritation obvious on his face.

"Hhhhh…Dammit. And I was going to make you a breakfast but I have no idea as to how I make the damn eggs!"

Michelle stopped stirring. "…Eggs? Is THAT what this brown goo is!"

"…I haven't been out shopping for a while…"

"Jeeze!" She hurriedly unloaded the mixture into the garbage can under the sink. "It's great you don't know how to cook, other wise I would be dead from those rotten eggs by now…" She looked at Joker who seemed a little down. "Sahl-ight, though…like I-or you-I can't really remember which, but anyways, said 'it's the thought that counts'…"

"That was you when you were trying to bash me."

"Ah, yes, now I remember…"

"Michelle…" Joker started, and then stopped.

"What?"

He bit his lower lip. "Oh, never mind…"

"…Oh, and why am I here?... - did I-"

"No, no…you didn't. You just passed out a little after I said something and then I brought you here, seeing as to that I have no clue as to where you live because of certain regulations…"

"…Thanks. Well, at least I'm in good hands…"

"…Was that meant to imply something or just hang in the air so I could ponder its meaning?"

"Do with my statements as you wish."

"...'ah, yes…jeeze…did i…thanks.' …hey, that sounds like you're on the telephone!"

Michelle shook her head as she headed to the door and picked up the mail. After staring at a few, she walked back to Joker, frowning. "Obviously someone hasn't been paying their bills…" She tossed Joker the letters from the bank and other major companies, Joker catching the stack.

"Well, what can I do without a job?"

"Oh, you have one…remember, you're on the police's records for stealing and an attempt assault on Gotham?"

"…Ah, yes." He sighed. "I just wanted to try and clear my name…" Michelle laughed. "Oh, think that funny?"

"Oh, well…sorry, I just never thought you the type."

"What? To ask for forgiveness?"

"…Never mind. Anyways, about these bills…huh. What'r'ya gonna do?"

"Whatever I must…but I'm not going to resort to being on the street again…I'll talk to someone if someone is there, and even-then I'm demented to an extent police need me behind bars. …Life just doesn't like me."

"Yeah, or you just don't like it."

He grinned. "Same thing….so, about your breakfast…"

"Oh, I always carry around a little something in case of that," Michelle answered as she undid a zipper pocket on one of her multiple-pocketed, black pants and pulled out a Slim-Fast bar. "…What about you?"

"Eh, I eat some…and then I don't. Today's the day I balance…"

"Nuh-uh…" Michelle said and she shoved a half of her bar into his hand. They ate their 'meal' and stepped outside into the hall. As they were walking towards the stairs, a short, rather pudgy, darkly-skinned man stepped out from his door and frowned. He screamed, "Hey! You! Better'd pay those damn bills 'fore I call the damn authorities!" and ran after them.

"Better run, Mick!" Joker took Michelle's hand and ran, leading her to the stairs.

The Middle-Eastern man screamed again and threw a broom at the two, which hit Joker on the head. As he was hit, he also slipped on a banana peel he had left there yesterday for the land-owner to slip on, and flipped over onto his stomach. Joker muffled a whine as the short land-owner jumped and landed on him. The little man started pounding Joker's head against the carpeted floor underneath him, still sitting on Joker's back and arms.

"You'd better tell me where that damn money is or I'll-"

"Excuse me," Michelle interjected.

"Huh?" the land-owner looked up at Michelle. "…You are not concerned in this matter between this idiot and me-"

"Are you sure he's the idiot?"

"Grr…fine. What is it you want?"

"Moreover, it's more like about what you want. Money, right?"

The man nodded eagerly and Joker sighed as his mouth was tied with a white bandana, the little man still sitting on him. He sighed and looked up at Michelle. "So?"

"I know where it is."

"Then where?"

"The bank."

"Why?"

"It's a bank."

"What r'ya talkin'?"

"Banks are money holders."

"Yes, I know this, but where are you leading to?"

Michelle sighed as she attempted to create and end a fake story. "His money was in the bank. Anyways, the company he was with crashed and he lost all of it."

"It was his loss…" The short man looked down at Joker and crossed his arms.

Michelle smiled, thinking of the two men as little kids. She shook it off and asked, "…So what's his total?"

He whispered it in her ear, and she sighed, taking out a couple hundreds from her wallet in one of her pockets and giving it to the greedy, little man.

As the land-owner counted his new money, Michelle untied Joker and they headed out. Joker sighed.

"Sorry about that…"

"I understand. Anyways, I work, and that was my brother's money anyways…."

Joker's left eyebrow rose as they headed down the stairs. "And you steal from him?"

"I guess…" Michelle blushed. "Well, I guess I'm just following you, then, right?"

"God, well, at least you still have money…"

-(flashback)-

Michelle still hadn't gotten a Valentine, even though Valentine's day was already over… 'Why is that? Heh…don't be stupid. You know people think you're crazy…' She stared out of her bedroom window from boredom and watched the rain drizzle down the glass, tapping her pen against her chin. A song popped into her mind and she hummed it. It was Eminem's new song, 'go crazy', one she really liked. Sighing, she left her room to the bathroom. 'That's the only problem with the rain…you have to pee when you think about it or see it…'

When she came back, there was someone at outside…It was the guy. Sighing, Michelle fetched her coat and put it on, stuffing a sandwich in the right pocket. She skipped down the stairs and went outside to her new friend. Stopping next to him, she took out the sandwich and handed it to him. She forgot that she had gotten that too for her brother and that there was a "Happy Valentine's Day" sticker on it, but she shrugged it off, thinking it better that way. Taking the sandwich, he smiled again, and a tear fell. It was the first time for a long time that he had been treated kindly to in one day. He put it in his pocket and, looking down, he pulled out a damp, red construction paper heart and held it out for her. Michelle smiled and took it, reading what it said,

"for times that pass, no one but me

can understand that dignity

that comes from getting from somebody else

a smile or two and nothing less."

Michelle smiled at the note, though not really understanding what he meant. She looked up, but she didn't see him. Shrugging, she reached down to get the newspaper, but saw he was lying on the ground, unconscious. Michelle hurried him inside (no one but her was home) and closed the door, carrying him –'he's so light, he probably hasn't eaten anything for, like, a decade…'—and set him on the couch with a blanket under and over him. The hood slid off from its position of covering his face and revealed what he looked like. She was astonished at the unique colors on his face… Curious, she held up his eyelids and noticed that the color of his eyes was red. Michelle then grabbed a cloth from he kitchen and rubbed his face with it. The discoloration remained plastered on his face

Shrugging it off, Michelle pulled off his jacket, as well as hers, and let it hang from a chair for it to dry. The only thing he had on underneath his jacket was his tight jean pants, and his ribs were visible on his torso from enduring starvation. She shook him to wake him up so he could eat and nourish his body. He woke with a sudden jump and sighed, looking up at Michelle.

"…Where-"

"You passed out outside and so I brought you in here…was that wrong?"

"Huh, oh, uh…no…I guess…" His stomach growled and he blushed.

Michelle smiled. "I'll get you something to eat." Walking to the kitchen, she took a bit of something from each food group and a glass of water to him. He ate and frowned after he did so.

"…Why are you so kind to me?...I honestly don't get you…"

"You don't need to understand why things happen…well, unless its school or math class…if then you don't get it on a test you're screwed…yeah. Uh, so, still hungry?"

He blushed again at his hunger. "Yes, I am…"

"That's fine." Michelle shrugged and stood. "Anything in particular?"

Shrugging, he said, "Whatever's easy enough for you. I've proved a hassle already…"

"Nah, you haven't. I like it, helping you, I mean…but if you don't like that, I'll stop, I mean, like, I understand…" She sighed. "Fine, I'll warm up a bean-tortilla. That good?"

"Fine by you?"

"Yeah?"

"Sure, then, if its-"

"It's fine! Breathe and let me cook!"

He smiled and turned from being onto his back onto his side as Michelle went into the kitchen to make him the requested food. Pictures of Michelle and her family and of other random things decorated the wall and he liked one in particular. It was a picture of Michelle when she was about six and was rolling a ball for her snowman's head and it proved too big…

Michelle came back into the room with a warm plate in her hand. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Huh? Oh, just…what happened there?" He pointed to indicate which picture he meant. She sighed and smiled.

"I was five, and there was a snowman contest …basically to see which kid could do the best one. Anyways, I'm not too good at looking at things proportionally, and right then I didn't too, and so the snow-dude's head was the biggest ball. And so, after that picture was taken, I figured that out and I started crying 'cause I didn't know what to do. Then a nice old guy came to me and told me what to do…he was really nice about it…I used the biggest ball as the head still and won first prize, though the head was on the bottom of the stack. I called it "woops!". …I liked that…" She sighed and looked at him. "Want your tortilla now?"

"By all means, please." He grinned as he was served his food and ate it. Michelle took his plate and washed it and came back, sitting in the chair across from him. He sighed and wiped his face—

"What?" she asked at his confused look. "Something-"

He stood and ran to the door, jostling the handle as he was trying to open it. She ran to him and touched his shoulder, and he turned toward her, glaring. "This is what I look like, fine by you? Whatever. 'So long', yes, I know, but this isn't my fault…anyways, thanks for the time and food and, God, right now I feel like I used you but please…I'm sorry." He frowned and jostled the door again.

Michelle sighed and un-locked the door. "It's fine by me. Anyways, we've been talking with you not having being covered at all…well, except for your pants and the blankets, that is…" She pointed at his ripped, tight, jean pants and he sighed.

"I haven't had a different pair since I was…well…" He pointed to his face and she nodded.

"Obviously that's been some time…"

He sighed. "Yeah, that's kinda what happens when you hang out with the wrong people..."

"…So, what exactly happened?" She asked as they walked back to the sofa and chair.

"Well…" He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed again. "I was considered a freak at my school—but remember, this is before my…'discoloration', so to say. Anyways, as I was saying, I was considered a freak and I didn't have any friends. Then this big bully guy came to my school…so I joined up with him and wasn't considered a freak anymore—instead I was like him: rude, cross, resentful…a lota crappy things…later, he invited me to this club—I was fourteen then—and I eagerly joined, but when I got to the place, he and his other friends pounced on me and beat me up pretty bad. …Anyways, during the fight, they started injecting stuff into me—I couldn't really feel those needles, but anyways, they were in me…I guess they were paid to use this stuff on somebody and they figured I was the best person to use it on. Later, I found out what my new' make-over' looked like. I didn't go home—ever again. Still haven't. Instead I'd run among the streets and cry. Pretty manly, huh? God, I'll get'm back someday…Life's been pretty dandy ever-since." Looking up, he wasn't surprised at her shocked face.

"…So-…" loosing her words, Michelle frowned. "God, that's horrible…but looks shouldn't hold you down. Not at all…"

"Well, then, what would you do if you looked like me?"

"…I'd probably do the same, but I would've hunted them down."

"I did, but he's a tough…bruiser guy, somebody you don't wanna mess with…" he sighed. "Love my life?"

"Well, yeah, sure…but if I could undo…well, what's done is done, huh?"

"Nah, that's what they got lawyers for." He smiled and Michelle nodded.

"But then why don't you-"

"Need money to attract lawyers. Then some lawyers attract freedom and justice. But the key is money, which I don't have."

"I could lend you-"

"Not enough for a decent one. Thanks, though…Say, how old are you?"

"…I'll be 17 this spring…you?"

"21. Fall."

"Ah…why?"

He shrugged. "Just felt like asking a question centered around someone other than me…I've even forgotten my own name…"

"…So then what'rya gonna call yourself?"

"See, that's what I was diverting from because I have no idea…and I'm not joking…"

"…Aha! Joker! …there!"

"…Why that?"

"What, want to be Bob?"

"What's wrong with Bob?"

"Hey, I never said anything was wrong with being Bob, Bobby…"

"Make up your mind."

"Fine." She pulled out a baby's name book and closed her eyes, flipping to a page. She ran her finger along it and stopped. "Aha! And your new name shall be…." She read the area her finger was on: " –'if you want your baby to have a funny name, give them something fun-'- …Yeah, uh, so…I'm sticking with Joker!"

Sighing, 'Joker' shook his head. "You'd be great at debate speeches—you've got strong opinions."

"Well, that's as long as I have made up my mind."

"…I'm guessing you just did that?"

"Yup!"

He sighed. "…Joy to the heavens."

-(end flashback)-

Michelle shrugged. "Life works all screwy. You pay for an education—then you get it so you can get a job, and the job pays you, so you basically just get back what you give which just made me seem like a preacher so shut up."

"What? I didn't say anything…anyways," he said as they headed out the door, "where are we going?"

"Dunno." Michelle shrugged. "Some place other than your new flat…"

"See, that's wise."

"Nothing's wrong with that."

"Now why would I imply anything's wrong with that?"

"I have no idea and this conversation is rather pointless…"

They walked to a street poll to cross the intersection and a few people looked over at Joker. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and then grinned, feeling the bottle of pills he had received from Michelle. An older woman squinted her eyes at him, as if attempting to see him better and remember who he was. She noticed him glaring at her and so she stopped and shrugged it off, stepping into the street to get to the other side. Joker and Michelle did the same, feet in rhythm as they had always had walked together that weird way.

The sky opened and unfurled a massive blow of rain and sleet. Many people in the sidewalk covered their heads with whatever they had—hands, hats, hoods, newspapers… Joker stayed at the same pace as Michelle gave him a questioning look. He grinned. "Perfectly good time for a bath, I'd say…"

Shaking her head, Michelle ran to the other side, waiting for him under the roof of a bus-stop covered-area. A child suddenly slipped in the road as the light that said for people to walk blinked red and cars revved to go. The little girl started crying, having hurt her knee on her way down to the concrete. Joker noticed this immediately and sprinted forward, snatching the crying girl from the intersection before a black Mercedes Benz ran her over. At the other end of the sidewalk, the little girl, still in his arms, stopped crying when she looked up at Joker.

"…Sees, I tolded my Jessica bud she was wrongin' 'bout circuses bein' bad an' all…right?" She sniffed and wiped her pale, bare rain-coated arm under her small nose. "Thanks, Mr. Clown man." She smiled and he did too. The little girl hugged him tightly and then let go and said, "I'm Michelle. My mommy-"

"Michelle! Oh, you let go of her right NOW!" A woman bashed Joker on his lower jaw with her un-opened umbrella, swinging with all the might she could muster. He fell back, the girl still in his arms.

"Mommy! Mommy! This Mr. Clowny Man saved me! I woulda-"

"Not now, Michelle. Now, you let go of her or I'll hit you again!" The woman screamed at him, horridly worried about her daughter. She had a dark-purple rain-coat on with black pants, large black glasses that rested on her nose, and was somewhat over-weight.

The little girl stepped out of his hold and stood in front of him, spreading her arms out. "No, Mommies! No!" She frowned and pursed her lips, her golden hair hung in a pony-tail on the back of her head swaying as she shook her head.

Joker stood and brushed himself off and touched the area of impact—his jaw seemed somewhat swollen, but he would live. "It's alright, Michelle. …Have a great day." He waved and walked over to (big) Michelle. Waving, (mini) Michelle and her mother walked across another intersection and headed onward. (Big) Michelle shook her head as Joker smiled and took out the bottle of pills from his pocket and swallowed a few dry and began to lightly rub his lower jaw, which was in discomfort at the moment. He snapped his head to the right and the left and grinned as a sickening 'pop' rose from his neck.

"What was the point of that?" Michelle asked.

"Hmm?" He asked, looking over at her. "You really must be more specific—I could go on on how my neck ached a terrible bit and I needed to relax it for a few, obsolete moments in my life…"

Michelle frowned. "You know what I meant."

"And you know mine." He grinned. "…After all, justice was served without the aid of money. Now what can that tell you about our omens?"

FPM: okie, I haven't up-dated in quite some time due to rather…unique computer problems :). Anyways, did anyone see the super-bowl? I did, and it's always strange how they come up with weirder and lamer things each year—oh, I need to do my homie-work…

FPM: now I know I really need to stop talking to myself…anyways, I don't own 'the batman' or the characters in it or 'slim-fast' bars, but I do own (big) 'Michelle' and (mini) 'Michelle' and (mini) Michelle's mom…

FPM: hahaha, I love writing stupid stuff nobody gets…

FPM: oh, and I don't own a Mercedes Benz, or a black one for that matter…or a car altogether (which is kinda sad…). I added a specific car name in this chapter b/c one like it almost ran me over the other day, and so I made it almost run over another female. Long live those who survive cars! (and forever curse those who own one…) :P