Disclaimer: I don't own any TDK characters.

A/N: Ok, so here goes. I couldn't stay away for too long, haha.

CHAPTER ONE

Better run, better hide

The woman made her way down the sidewalk, moving with a relaxed, confident gait. Anyone watching her would barely notice her limp, which she took great pains to hide. Her shoulder length dark hair swayed with every step and in her smart black boots and tailored black leather coat she cut a stylish figure.

She was now Erica Bellamy and she was hiding. Hiding in plain sight of course but she had hoped the change in appearance and the name change would suffice. Maybe he would never guess she was still in the city, thinking she had run to nearby Parnall or someplace else. Who would be stupid enough to rat on the Joker and remain in the city?

'That would be me.' she thought wryly.

After her attempt to have the Joker apprehended failed she knew she had to disappear. He didn't seem to be the forgiving type and she knew he wouldn't understand her attack of conscience, seeing as how he didn't have a conscience himself. So she had sold her beloved little house on the secluded outskirts of Gotham, moved into the city and gotten a technical support job.

The more she thought of it, the more insane it seemed. Commissioner Gordon had begged her to get out of the city but she'd adamantly refused. The Joker was not going to chase her out of this town. And maybe she had a touch of a death wish as well, but she preferred not to think of that.

Gordon pulled all of the necessary strings to rush the process and she got a new birth certificate, new name, new social security number, the works. She'd had her hair cut and dyed dark, she even wore blue contact lenses. The Joker had often remarked on her green-yellow eyes. She was nearly unrecognizable from the scruffy woman of a few months ago. Samantha Knight had officially dropped off the planet.

All this because of him. The beautiful monster she had betrayed with only the best of intentions. The man she still thought of daily and still with the same mixture of desire, trepidation and fury. She suspected he thought of her too and could only imagine what went through his head.

She came to her building and rode the elevator to her third floor apartment. When she got to the hallway she picked up her pace, eager to get inside, key already in hand.

After she got in she locked the three sets of deadbolts and kicked off her boots with a sigh. She made her phone call to GCPD and settled down on her leather sofa, lit a cigarette and waited for the news to come on. She could change her name and her looks but she was still the same creature of habit. Her world revolved around habits now, little things to calm her thoughts, things to bring her a few steps closer to happiness.

Speaking of happiness...she opened her purse and extracted a small pill wrapped in cellophane from a cigarette pack, a razor blade, a cut piece of straw and a small hose clamp with the screw removed so it could be straightened. Not bothering to get a plate she grated half the pill to a fine powder on her coffee table. No matter how many times she performed this ritual it always sent a jolt of anticipation through her. She couldn't bring herself to feel bad for doing something so self destructive...she just didn't care anymore. At one time he had made her feel like this. The Joker had been the drug and the razor and the deadened bliss that followed.

Cutting the white dust into a line with her new license she grasped the straw and inhaled deeply.

--

When the six o' clock news came on she leaned forward, elbows on knees, clenching her hands unconsciously. She always got a nervous feeling in her gut when the news came on. But there was nothing tonight, no bank robberies, nothing blown up. Samantha felt herself relaxing. The Joker had dropped out of sight after the incident at her house four months ago.

The incident at her house.

She recalled the way Jim Gordon looked at her after he saw the note, the way his eyes hardened with suspicion. He and Batman staring at her with all sorts of unspoken questions while she retched helplessly on her lawn. The humiliation of the note he had left on her bed. Luckily she was able to convince them it was all lies. The Joker's idea of a sick game, that it hadn't been like that, that she had never slept with him and to even consider it was disgusting. She had told them the Joker had come back to try to kidnap her again and she had managed to slip away long enough to call the police. Astonishingly they seemed to accept this story, unwilling to accept she might have been having sex with the Joker voluntarily.

She still hadn't forgiven herself for those lies, probably never would. The truth was intolerable though. The truth would mark her as a freak and worse. Let Jim Gordon and Batman think she was a hapless victim. The truth would bury her, might even land her in Arkham. She told herself that didn't matter anymore. She'd redeemed herself by making the phone call to Gordon that night. To this day he had no idea she'd probably saved his life, as well as Batman's.

Then again, she thought grimly, maybe he hadn't planned on killing them at all. Maybe he wanted her to sound the alarm. Just to shake things up a little.

What had she said to him that same night, before it all happened?

"You have nothing to threaten me with now. Nothing to do with all your power. Because, you see, I have nothing to lose anymore."

Well she had been wrong. Her words had issued an irresistible challenge to the Joker. And he loved a challenge.

And, just like he'd said, he always got the last laugh.

--

When she finally fell asleep that night it was uneasily, as it always was. He trailed her even into her dreams.

She hunched in her cubicle, frowning over a particularly annoying caller. Some people really had no business owning a computer and the man she was on the phone with was one of them. The comforting hum of her co-worker's voices surrounded her. She glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes until a smoke break. Ah, now that would be bliss. She'd stopped smoking ten years ago but had recently started again. Samantha had no regrets about it, didn't consider herself weak for going back. She was accustomed to far unhealthier vices. Smoking was nothing.

The murmur of voices stopped and suddenly...silence. Her caller was gone, the phone dead. The sudden quiet was like a slap in the face.

And then the screams began, high pitched and horrifying.

"Down on the floor!" a low voice commanded and one of her cohorts whimpered in submission.

"So, ah, where is she?" A different voice. One she knew as well as her own.

"Hm? Sure-lyyyy you know who I'm talking about. A beautiful, ha, bitch. Has a limp. Green eyes. Name is Sam-an-tha Knight."

Whoever he was talking to was gibbering in agony and fear. The sound of a shotgun blast made her jump. It was so loud it seemed to shake the walls. The voice of whoever he had been tormenting fell silent.

"Come onnnnnn. Tell me where she is and I'll go away. I just want what's mine." His patience, what little he had, was running out, she could tell by his tone.

Samantha stood up, hardly understanding why she'd do something so foolish, but feeling compelled to.

The office was in ruins. Papers were everywhere, soaked crimson with the blood of people she knew. The flourescent light fixtures hung haphazardly from the ceiling, smoke filled the air and bodies were sprawled on top of each other, twisted in positions no living person would want to get in. A few computers had caught fire. Everyone was dead except for Samantha, the Joker, and his men. She vaguely wondered how this much destruction ocurred so quickly and with so little noise.

His eyes locked onto her the instant she entered his line of sight, and for a moment he simply stood there, watching her from across the room. He looked as if he couldn't believe she was there.

"I'm here" she said softly and he smiled at the sound of her voice.

He started towards her, sawed off shotgun swinging casually in his hand.

"Ready to come back to me Sam?" he asked and it seemed as if the Joker walking towards her was on an endless loop. He kept walking and never got close, she might as well have been a mile from him instead of a few feet.

She didn't say a thing, merely stared in horrified amazement...and excitement. That old familiar feeling was back, as if it had been lurking under the surface, just waiting to come back.

"I'll never stop Samantha...never stop looking for ya. Come with me and I might, uh, forgive you." Those black eyes looking at her so slyly, promising her things she never wanted, never asked for. And God help her, she wanted to come with him and yet she wanted to run away.

With dawning horror she realized she was frozen in place. He was coming for her but never quite got to her and she could not move away from him or near him. They were destined to play this out forever. It would never end.

Her eyes snapped open to the welcome darkness of her bedroom. The damned dreams. She wondered if they would ever stop. She briefly thought of taking Gordon's advice that she see a psychiatrist and just as swiftly dismissed the idea. To see a psychiatrist would mean she'd eventually have to tell the truth of what happened and that she simply could not do. And the notion of yet another person digging into her mind, asking questions, trying to force her to feel was infinitely unappealing. No, she'd cope with this on her own. If it devoured her, so be it.

A/N: So we see Sam is trying to hide from the Joker but can't quite bring herself to leave the city. She's also developing some nasty vices due to guilt and trauma. You can't spend a few months with a guy like Mr. J and emerge unscathed and Sam was never very normal to begin with. She's slowly yet surely slipping down the rabbit hole