A/N-Okay, first for an apology. I did attempt a Batman fic earlier. In fact, it was one of my first fics. However, I soon discovered that it wasn't and couldn't go anywhere. I removed it. On this same note, I had some people who had liked it, and it is to them that this apology goes. Hopefully, this fic will make up for it. I believe I've become a better writer--both in the world of original writing and in the world of fanfics--in the time that has passed since that dreadful fic. Only the reviewers can be the judge of that. So judge me. Please R & R! Thanks!

Disclaimer- I don't own Batman or any character associated with him. They belong to DC comics and Warner Bros. This disclaimer applies to all chapters.


Chapter 1- Escape

"He's out! Get him!" he heard one of the asylum guards yell.

However, this order to find him gave him no worries. He was the Joker, after all--the self proclaimed Clown Prince of Crime. He was in no hurry. It would kill the fun if he were just to up and run. He was so relaxed and confident of his escape that he had even stopped by one of the personal belongings rooms and retrieved his purple suit. Now he was stowed away in one of the asylum's psychiatrists' offices. They, those shrinks, were all off duty, as it was after seven in the evening. Nobody was coming in here.

He sat down in the big, cushy chair that was behind the desk and propped his feet up. He began to hum quietly to himself--he was confident, not stupid--and tap his fingers on his chest. He also began to look around the room. Two filing cabinets were behind him on either side.

Suddenly, something flared into mind. About a week ago, this psychiatrist--the one in whose office he sat--began to look at him strangely. Sure, this was nothing new. This doc was a newbie, and all the newbies stared at him for the first two weeks or so. But this one was different.

Then he began to whisper to the other shrinks, and then they were all looking at him differently. One thing he knew about psychiatrists was that they were paid to write everything they knew about their patients and file it. The Joker stood and walked over to the drawer on the left cabinet marked "Joker." He pulled it open.

Inside were several file folders marked with different things like "Friends", that was a thin folder; "Habits", that one was the thickest; and "Family." This last one, he paused at.

It was supposed to be super thin. A single sheet proclaiming that he had none. Instead, it was brimming with papers. Outside, he could hear the hurried footsteps of the asylum guards. The game was about the end; the clock was winding down. He grabbed the file folder and left the asylum, courtesy of the window.

…………………

He had chosen an abandoned warehouse by the Gotham City docks as his hideout. Not exactly his style, but it would keep the Bat off his scent.

The Joker pushed his way through the heaps of garbage that was covering the cold cement floor. He turned up his nose at a bit of gunk that had gotten on his shoe. He took a handkerchief out of an inside pocket of his jacket and wiped off the mess.

He wasn't much of a cleaner himself, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't want to live cleanly. The idea of all this mess around him disgusted him. No matter. He had instructed Harley to break out two days after him. He hadn't even told her where to go. He was confident that she would find him. She always did. Her first assignment when she did would be to clean up this mess.

He collapsed in a rickety old wooden chair and sighed…and then chuckled. Well, the fun of the escape was over. Time to find something new to do. With that thought in mind, he glanced down at the file folder he still had in his hand. He crossed his legs--ankle over knee--and opened it.

The single sheet that the Joker knew was there, proclaiming that he had zero family members, was stamped through with four large, red letters. Void. He flipped passed this page and went to the second. Here, he saw a page with a picture of dark haired, fair skinned girl paper-clipped to it. He began to read a paragraph of information, written in closely knitted cursive.

After the death of the young girl's mother, there were some old diaries found, written in the deceased woman's handwriting. They speak of a night with a mysterious man in which the woman's daughter was conceived. The woman--Mary Massa, by name--then states that weeks later, she discovered the identity of the man. Patient number 420032--the Joker.

The Joker's eyes widened. He glanced up at the picture of the girl. Upon closer inspection, he could see that she had green eyes. His eyes. She was smiling a smile that looked only too familiar. It was identical to his. He flipped the page. The next sheet had all kinds of information about the girl, his daughter. Her name was Joanna Ker. She stood 5' 6" in height and weighed 118 lbs. She was eighteen years old and attended Gotham City High School, downtown. She now currently lived with her mother's sister, Catherine Massa, 29. Their residence was at Number 3, Privy Lane.

This was all the information he needed to form a plan. What plan, that was yet to be seen, but it was for certain that a plan--nonetheless--was forming.


End Notes: So, whatcha think? I know, I know…short chapter, right? I just can't do a long chapter. Well, like it or hate it? Let me know!!