Of Madmen, Misfits & Everything In Between

Pairing: Joker/OC

Rating: K+

Warnings: Brief scene of physical violence, mention of racism

A/N: I have no idea how the ratings work - it's my first story here(woo!)- so I'll be updating the ratings as the story progresses. For now it's suitable for most audience with a little violence and swearing. Thanks for reading!

Chapter One-The Girl Who Was Something Else Altogether

"Tell us everything Miss Alau 'din," Commissioner Jim Gordon urged, holding onto the very last of his self- control and patience, as he peered at a tall, emaciated woman who was absentmindedly picking at her fingernails. "And please make it fast, time is something we don't have right now, the life of two people depends on it!"

The woman closed her eyes and nodded quickly. She was nervous. Very nervous, bordering frightened. She focused all her energy on the core of her being hoping that this would be one of those moments when her mind would play tricks on her, taking her to places she'd rather not be but alas!- even after the much successful attempt, nothing happened. She did not find herself in her small, crappy apartment alone and away from the world. No, this was all real- and that is what scared her the most.

And just like that, Misha became all too aware of the people present in the room who were staring intently at her; Commissioner James Gordon and Batman. She sighed heavily before speaking, "I'm so sorry; I'm not usually one for words."

Batman, who by the way, she had just found out to be Bruce Wayne- yes, the famous party boy Bruce Wayne- chuckled. It was weird to see the Batman to chuckle but he had taken the mask off so it was technically Bruce Wayne laughing, though that did not help her much. He was still intimidating as shit.

"Umm, it started off a year ago," she began, thinking hard to remember the exact moment she had forfeited the little sanctuary she had built for herself. It was difficult, to say the least, to pin point the exact moment. "Or was it two years? Yeah, I think it started off somewhere in the second year of my university course. See, I don't exactly keep track of these things. Maybe 2006?" The men waited for her to continue all wearing the exact same calculating looks. It occurred to Misha that they were calculating the time that had passed. If she met the Joker in 2006 than it had to be three years or more; it did not seem like three years however, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

She was a different person now. He had made her a different person. Whether it was intentional or not, she did not know. Neither did she want to, she realized, reverting her gaze back to the wooden table. She liked what she had become. For the first time in maybe forever, she was comfortable in her own skin. She was not bitter, nor was she envious, jealous or any of those emotions anymore. She was just herself. And it felt good. It felt normal. He taught her the difference between right and wrong and what he was doing was wrong. And Misha had the power to stop it. Hence, the reason why she was here the first place.

She looked up at the men seated before her once more and took a deep breath. "Okay, it started off one afternoon when I got home from uni…"

Three years ago…

"Catch me if you can!" He shouted before jumping out of the window. Batman, who was busy dealing with the Scarecrow (his latest former accomplice), punched the man once before following him. The Joker let out a laugh as he ran. It was like a game of tag. Batman chasing him, him running. He wondered why he had never thought of this before, directly mocking the Batman. Sure he hadn't killed anyone or blown up some place to get his attention but he had managed to strike a nerve.

Him, and the Scarecrow.

Well, maybe not because it was the Scarecrow who ended up getting the shit beat out of him. Needless to say, he was alive and happy. Now, if only he could get batty off his trail. He turned his head to the left to see that the caped crusader was hot on his trails. He rolled his eyes. Yup, definitely- he'd be happier if Batso got off his back.

How was he going to do it?

He looked around his surrounding, whatever passed of it anyway as he ran. Where were his stupid minions? He had specifically asked them to pick him up and-

He mentally face palmed himself. Of course, that's where they were. He remembered giving them instructions on parking the escape van near the-

He wasn't far from the park.

Might as well get there, he thought to himself. As much as he'd like to deny it, he was getting a little tired of this chase. He realized that the only way to get to the van and away safely was to make sure that the batman was not after him.

He could throw a bomb or something at him but he didn't have that on him. Right now anyway. He could turn around and cop a fight but it wasn't worth it. Maybe Bats would follow him until he got to the van. His men were not so stupid (he hoped) and would start firing the moment they saw Batman.

The park came into view but his van was not anywhere to be seen. Where are they? He wondered, slowing down. That was a mistake and Batman took the opportunity to grab hold of him, punching him across the face.

He laughed aloud at the pain. Really, did he actually think that something so trivial could hurt him?

He tried little to defend himself, letting the crusader beat him again and again. It was only when Batman hit his left arm such that a sharp pain plagued through it that he fought back. He never experienced pain but this- this was an indicator that he had broken something. Well.

Another sharp pang down his leg, originating from his ankle, and he was convinced that he had broken two things now. His arm and his ankle. Now this was a challenge. He pulled away and ran, his sense of self preservation taking over. Batman followed him once more.

He never planned much in his life, and right now he regretted that. He had to get rid of Batman immediately if he was to see the light of day again. Because the amount of aggression Batman was showing right now may just result in his demise and even the Joker couldn't let that happen.

He ran faster but then he felt a searing pain in one of his legs, and lost his balance. Batman caught up with him- and clearly had a lot of fight in him, since he chose to beat him to the pulp. Needless to say, the Joker felt almost numb after the seventh blow and let his hands dangle towards the ground lifelessly and efficiently drawing the Bat's attention away from them as he reached into his pockets pulling out his knife and running a cut across his face with all the strength he could muster at that moment.

The Batman staggered back, and Joker felt himself fall from his grip and unto the ground. He did not allow himself rest and dragged himself away, his left leg completely useless and most likely broken. It did not help that he'd twisted (or so, he thought) his other leg but it was still functional.

It would do for now. He'd need a lot of rest later to quickly recover and carry on with his plans for Gotham.

He turned into a maze of run down apartments, where puddles of water or motor oil or- bless the setting sun- long shadows were found making it easier to hide. Just another dark turn and he was in front of the fire escape of an old apartment. He heard the Batman run the other and quickly climbed up, hulling himself inside the first open window he could find. It was a bedroom- small but very clean and inviting and he found himself losing conscious just then.

RRR-THUD!

A sound.

The sound of a door opening woke him from his slumber and when it did, he couldn't help but panic. His entire body seemed to be on fire and the fact that he was Gotham's number one criminal did not help. Neither did the fact that he was in someone else's apartment without their permission. There was only one thing left to do, he tried lifting himself off the ground but failed miserably. His legs had finally given out.

He hoped that it was a cat, a dog- really any type of animal, a kid but obviously he wasn't that lucky today.

"Jee, ab choro bhi. Haan, I'll- I'll call you back? Yes, please do that. Thank you so much. Shukaria! Bye."

The voice was female and rather airy. Different, actually and the accent was mixed, English and another one he couldn't understand. He looked around the room and realized that it did look the part of belonging to a female what with the white frilled curtains and the pictures on the walls.

Of course.

He had to end up with a female who would no doubt call the police once she saw him. He made one last effort to crawl into a corner and failed. The door to the bedroom opened and he closed his eyes in anticipation. He wasn't even strong enough to threaten her or something. Might as well just take the jail card- it was better than dealing with Batman anyway.

He heard the wooden floor creak followed by a gasp. "Oh my god, are you alright?" Oddly enough, the woman walked over to him, catching the glimpse of his face. She looked more shocked than horrified but then again, what did one feel when one found Gotham's most wanted in their bedroom?

The irony was impeccable but he did not have time to laugh, his head was throbbing and the reality of his situation was getting the best of him. He partly expected a shriek, a cry for help- anything but that never came. Instead, the woman was kneeling beside him. "Are you alright?" she repeated her question and he felt the urge to hit her. What was she doing? She should have been calling the police by now!

"Urm..I'll get some first aid," she told him when he didn't say anything and rushed out. Joker rolled his eyes. Of all the people he could end up with, he thought but couldn't finish it as once more he lost conscious.

The next time he gained conscious, he felt someone prodding his left leg. When he opened his eyes he saw that it was the woman tending to his left leg. She was so engrossed in her work that she did not notice his awakening. His other leg was also bandaged and it made him wonder exactly what bus he had been run over by. That made him smile until he realized who it was (Batman) and he groaned quietly (so the woman wouldn't hear him. He wasn't ready to face the likes of her yet). Of course, Batsy had to be the one to break him. He wondered where he'd run off to.

He looked around the room, there wasn't much there to begin with. Granted the room was small but that of course had been his first observation of the place. It also lacked well, he couldn't put a finger on it, until his gaze landed on the woman again. Oh yes, it lacked her- the home sweet home feel. There were photographs on the wall, but that was just some university stuff- nothing intimate or personal. A few banners of Gotham University and a big soft board loaded with pamphlets and notes and what not above an equally messy desk.

She's a student, he realized as his gaze landed back on her. He'd give her one thing: she did not look like any of the women he'd made acquaintance with. For one thing, her complexion was- not to be a racist but that didn't even matter since he was the Joker, he reckoned- sallow. She had an oval face- maybe heart shaped he couldn't tell because of the way her short hair fell on her face- with a reasonably pointed chin, an aquiline nose, ridiculously nice lips (he vaguely wondered how it feel to kiss them, but quickly shook the thought away. He clearly hadn't been with a woman for a while now), prominent shaped eyes with a thick set of eyelashes and arched eyebrows. Overall there was an eccentric, exotic look to her.

She wasn't from around here, he realized. But he couldn't put down a place. She looked South American- she should have been South American but she didn't look American. She certainly wasn't European- a student at Gotham University…. Foreign exchange seemed reasonable, he tried to think of countries where she could be from- it didn't help that he did not know many countries and-

"You're awake." He almost jumped out of the bed in fright. Her voice was deep but feminine and then it came to him: She was Middle Eastern. Of course.

"Err… yes," he managed to utter, breaking eye contact with her. Whoever she was she had the guts to make immediate eye contact (and intimidate, but he would never admit that) people.

"Huh." She let go of his foot which she had finished bandaging by now. He fought the urge to tell her not to. "Well, want something to eat?"

The accent was relatively American- ish.

"Yeah," he nodded. She disappeared out of the room and he wondered if all foreign exchange students were so uninformed or was it just his luck to find the one who knew nothing about him.

Minutes passed and she returned with a tray of what smelled like hot soup. She set it on his lap and he realized that she was wearing an over-sized shirt- so big that the sleeves which were supposed to be short came to her elbows- of the Gotham University Nighthawks.

"Boyfriend's?" he asked her and she rolled her eyes before flopping onto the bed before him.

She arched a brow. "Why is it that every time a woman wears a sports shirt it is automatically assumed that it belongs to her boyfriend?" she asked warily. Not waiting for an answer, she continued, "And I thought the Taliban were sexist. It's kinda like a guy thing isn't it?"

The Joker frowned, but said nothing and tried to eat what she had brought him only to fail because… well, his right hand was broken, bandaged and all and he wasn't good with his left hand. After watching him for a few minutes, the woman sighed.

"Here, let me help." She moved closer to him, taking the spoon and proceeded to feed him.

"Ack, what is this?" he cringed at the taste of the somewhat bland soup.

"Shut up and drink it, it'll make you feel better," she stated. The Joker looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"You do know who I am right?" he asked her.

"I've seen worse," she stated clearly unimpressed and that surprised him.

"What?"

"Yeah."

"Shouldn't you be afraid?"

"Of what? A guy caked with ridiculous face paint? Riiigght."

He laughed. Nobody thought the face paint was ridiculous. It actually scared the shit out of some people. "Oh I like you."

"Don't," she said almost immediately and he could sense the threat underlying there. Still, he knew better than to bite the hand that fed him. He was weak and he needed to recover.

"What's your name?" he asked her instead.

"Misha." Her answer was curt. She didn't give him a last name he noticed and wondered why.

"Where are you from?" He already knew but wanted her to say it.

"Pakistan." She didn't even look at him. Having fed him, she cleared out of the room, tray in hand.

He smiled widely. He had it all wrong. This girl would prove to be entertaining on her own- much more than he had thought.

"Tell me," he asked when she entered the room again, "why aren't you calling the police yet?"

Misha raised an eyebrow at him as if to say 'really?' and said, "Ever since I've been here, I've been treated differently because I'm a Pakistani ergo, a terrorist and you want me to surrender you to the Gotham police to be accused of harboring a criminal. Ha ha, no. I'd like to be complete my education first. You're only here because you're injured. Otherwise I don't give a damn about you or the police. The moment you've healed, you're back on the streets 'kay?"

He found himself nodding and didn't say anything. She had this air of seriousness surrounding her and he realized that she meant what she said. She made her way across the room towards her desk and started writing something on the paper. It took him a while to realize that she was studying, choosing to ignore him completely. That made him rather angry but he really couldn't do anything about it. He was practically handicapped at the moment.

"Hellooo?" He tried, trying to get her attention. She paid him no heed.

He looked around, upon finding a rubber ball on the side table; he picked up and threw at her. To his surprise, she caught it without even turning.

"If you want to hit people, you don't make it so bloody well obvious," she dryly commented and turned to face him. She was wearing thick, square glasses which she must have worn some time ago (he hadn't noticed her) and, for the lack of a better term, looked plain annoyed.

"You're a horrible host," he said.

"And you're a horrible guest."

The Joker looked heavenwards and groaned. This girl practically countered each and every damn thing he said. This was going to be hard.