This World is Not a Conclusion

Erik paced in Barbara’s apartment that night. He knew what she must be thinking. Hell, for half a second he actually wondered if he HAD killed that girl, wondered if he’d finally gone round the bend, and just didn’t remember.

But no. Joker WASN’T a rapist, no matter what he came from. And he KNEW that signature. But there was no way! He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

It had been so long that he’d nearly forgotten. But it came back easily, considering that it was the last case his father ever worked on.

Erik remembered visiting his father at the station. He’d been wandering around, his dark eyes scanning with a horrid fascination all the crime scene photos posted on the walls. He’d happened upon a particular set of them, and had frozen.

Clustered on a cork-board were picture of various, similar-looking young redheaded women. They were all naked, all bloody, all in various states of degradation. Erik had felt a sick swooping of rage in his stomach. His little fists clenched themselves and shook with a rage he’d never felt before.

Just then, his father had come up behind him and clapped his heavy, calloused hand down on the boy’s shoulder. “Who did this?” Erik asked without turning around.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” his father had replied.

Joker had been led away then. It wasn’t until later that he realized his nails had bitten into his palms. He raised his hands and looked at the scars in the darkness of Barbara’s apartment.

A key turned in the lock and Joker looked up, expectantly, from his perch on the kitchen table. Normally, he would have been waiting in the bedroom, but he thought, considering the circumstances, it wouldn’t have been smart.

Barbara walked in and dropped her keys on the table by the door. She didn’t bother turning on the light. Joker watched her move across the room, marveling at her beauty. She took off her jacket and he bit his lip, his mind remembering times when she’d removed much more than that.

Joker sighed. Barbara jumped at the sound. She flipped on the light and gasped at the sight of him. “What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice breathless.

“I came to explain,” he replied, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.

“Explain?” she snapped. “Explain what? That I’ve been fucking a serial killer?!” Her voice became shrill with anger.

“I didn’t kill that girl, Barbara,” Joker said quietly. “I’ve never killed a woman.”

Barbara glared at him. “Then how did you know - ?”

“Because I’ve seen this before,” Joker replied. “My father was a cop, remember?” He reached a hand out to her, fully expecting her to laugh in his face.

But like she always did, she surprised him. She took his hand and let him pull her into his lap. She rested her head on his shoulder and whispered, “I believe you, Erik. You are many things; you’re even a killer. But one thing you are *not* is a liar.”

Joker wrapped his arms around her. “His name is Mr. Zasz,” he said to her. “He was caught by my father, just before - well, just *before*.”

Barbara raised her head. “Well, than I can catch him.”

Joker stared into her acid-green eyes, the strength shining from them making him feel weak. “There’s just one problem,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“Mr. Zasz is dead.”


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Hey, everybody, I hope I didn't scare you!

Thanks for the reviews, keep em' coming, I want to hear what you think!

The next chapter might take awhile, I'm gonna try and make it longer.

Loves much!

Jane Krahe