A/N: This is a sequel to Nerves and, as such, it is highly recommend that be read first. I apologize to those who have waited a year for this. It's been an, uh, interesting year, but I won't bore you with excuses and please do know that I am truly sorry for the rather extended delay. To be honest, I have lost the desire to continue this story but I'm going to, in spite of that, simply because I hate leaving things unfinished. Plus, I hope that along the way I'll regain that spark. I will go ahead and warn you that there is a possibility of the dreaded Mary Sue Syndrome (I apologize greatly if this turns out to be the case), a chance of OOC (again, I apologize), and this might even classify as AU. I know this won't be the most paramount Joker/Batman fanfic but, nonetheless, I do hope that it's entertaining.
Summary: Sequel to "Nerves." Jennifer Moss didn't realize that when she agreed to care for her cousin Bonnie, she also inherited a madman. Swept away in danger and peril, Jennifer must survive old threats as well as a new villain haunting the sewers.
Disclaimer: I do not in anyway own, claim to own, make a profit off of, etc. Batman or its related mediums. Any recognizable character(s) that associate with Batman and its related mediums are not owned by me, but by their respective creators. This is written solely for entertainment purposes. Yadda, Yadda, Yadda. Please don't sue or report.
Warning: Impulses is rated M. This chapter may or may not contain coarse language, dark themes, and/or mature subject matter. Please read at your own discretion. Also, this chapter is a bit uneventful but necessary to establish character.
Enjoy!
Impulses
Chapter One
- Foundation -
"Practically all the relationships I know
are based on a foundation of lies
and mutually accepted delusion."-Kim Cattrall
The plain, bare apartment was well lit; the numerous lamps illuminated every corner that would have otherwise been drowned in shadow. Yet, no matter how fiercely bright the beams tore through the darkness, none could penetrate the gloomed heart of Jennifer Moss. The grief that wormed its way in consumed all cheery thought and hurled them into instant obliteration. Her emotions were locked in one gear:
Desolation.
The modest black dress slipped from her lithe form and pooled around her feet, still clad in short inky heels. Jennifer pushed it away on impulse and began working on the straps of the restricting shoes. Her movements were rigid, robotic. The heels quickly joined the rumpled dress.
Dodging the plethora of brown boxes littering her bedroom floor, she made her way to the small closet where only a handful of garments hung. Simple business attire disappeared from their wooden hangars, leaving them to sway despondently in naked loneliness.
The selected clothing was darker than what Jennifer would normally choose, especially on her first day of work. First impressions meant everything; and, she didn't want her new coworkers to get the idea that she was a habitual dejected individual.
That would be erroneous.
Smoothing down the blue-black skirt, her lovat-green eyes caught the discarded sable clothing, causing a dejected sigh to slip out. Jennifer's shoulders sagged as she loomed over the dress and shoes. She knew she wouldn't be able to wear them again. They were a one-time use and had served their purpose. She couldn't wear something that was permanently branded as funeral clothes. A trip to the closest donation drop-off would have to be made in the morning.
For now, Jennifer had to focus on surviving the workday. Well, night.
The somber stillness that had settled over the apartment was shattered in an instant by the dulled whining of the telephone. Her attention split from the clothes, her breathing hitched. It would only take two guesses as to who was calling and she wasn't ready to speak with either.
Jennifer resolved to ignore it; the answering machine would pick it up. Allowing the rings to play themselves out, she fished for a pair of casual heels from one of the opened boxes. The machine beeped, Jennifer's peppy and bubbly voice filled the living space and informed the caller that she was unable to answer, asked to leave a message, and she would get in touch later.
Mary Lewis' strained voice broke with every other spoken word. Jennifer felt the gloom in her heart expand at the sound of her aunt filling the small space. She choked down a sob as her throat constricted painfully. Her feet were forcefully shoved into a pair of dull, worn shoes. Jennifer needed to get out of there and escape her aunt's lament.
Or she feared that she would never get away.
The purse vanished from the door handle, the coat left the rack, and the front door creaked open before slamming back in place. Jennifer's hands quivered as she locked the door, finally cutting off the weeping recording on the answering machine. Her head rested against the rough wood and urged the tears swelling in her eyes to keep from falling. Her lungs expanded slowly with each deep inhale.
Slowly.
Calmly.
Peace.
Jennifer abandoned the door in one swift movement and marched toward the elevator. She was bound and determined to face the tragedy with strength and poise. Nothing would detract from the happiness she once knew. Bonnie would be missed, without a doubt. But the objective for the moment was to get through work without any mishaps.
And crying certainly wouldn't help.
The elevator was empty. Thank God. Jennifer had yet to meet any of her neighbors but didn't have the strength to carry on small talk. Although, something told her that if there had been someone else with her, there wouldn't be much conversation flowing. Her apartment building gave off the feeling that people wanted to be alone and left that way. Not that Jennifer minded. She could make friends at work. It was always easier to befriend a fellow dispatcher. No one else could understand the stress caused by the demanding job.
The elevator creaked down to the lobby floor where it settled with a small sway. The doors groaned as they parted, allowing Jennifer to pass through. The building's door locked behind her as she exited quickly and descended the steps two at a time. The bus stop was just down the block so she wouldn't have to endure the muggy night air for long. Sweat and work were not two things that should be mixed.
Pressing the button on her watch to turn on the backlight, Jennifer sighed in relief to find that she hadn't missed the bus. Depression, body odor, and tardiness would be avoided at all costs. She looked up at the sound of the city bus rounding the corner and pulling to a stop beside the bus route sign.
That was convenient.
Deciding not to question the perfect timing (never look a gift-horse in the mouth), Jennifer boarded the public transportation and scanned her bus pass before taking the first available seat. The ride to the police station would be fairly brief but until then, Jennifer was left alone with nothing to distract her from the day's events.
Talk about a first-class welcoming.
Jennifer wasn't supposed to move to Gotham City for another two weeks; but, the unforeseen death of her cousin Bonnie changed that. The funeral was small and modest, nothing too extravagant. Not even the weather would go out of its way to complement the attendees' moods. Not a single cloud would squeeze out a raindrop in mourning of Bonnie. Jennifer's Aunt Mary and Uncle Roger couldn't stay long after the service. As soon as Bonnie's empty casket was lowered six-feet, her parents were boarding their flight back home.
Jennifer wished she could fly back home. She was regretting her decision more and more. Her mother tried to warn her; never make a life changing decision in the heat of the moment.
Lost in thought, she rubbed her left hand's ring-finger. The nakedness jolted her back to reality, back to the dirty bus, back to the struggle for survival.
Back to the pain.
The police station neared her line of sight. Taking this as her cue, she stood and tugged on the wire hanging above her. A small bell sounded from the front. The rails provided a nice support when the bus jerked to a stop in front of the station. After regaining her balance, Jennifer pulled the straps of her purse higher up on her shoulder, securing them before she faced the dark streets.
It was completely silly to think anything would happen from the few yards separating her from the doors of the station. Plus, it was a police station. This was nothing. It was completely illogical. She couldn't be a slave to her phobia for the rest of her life. Yet, staring out the windowed-bus door and seeing the poorly-lit streets, Jennifer felt her breathing seize.
Dark.
The bus driver stared at her, his expression so mixed it was impossible to decipher. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Is this your stop?"
"Sorry?" Jennifer turned to the driver.
He sighed. He wasn't going to rush her too much; the bus was practically empty. "Is this your stop or not?"
Almost as if she'd only needed reminding, Jennifer nodded briskly. "Yes, this is my stop."
The driver raised his eyebrows. The woman was clearly nervous. About what, he didn't know. Seeing as how she was wanting to stop out front of the police station, she probably had some sort of crime to report.
Burglary? No, that was too petty compared to her current state.
Abusive relationship? No, she didn't look beat up. Her emotional condition, however…
Mugging?
Possibly.
"Well, then this is your stop." The bus driver pulled on his handle and worked it around until the door folded open. Hint, hint.
Jennifer eyed the shadows warily but braved it regardless. The moment her feet were safe on the concrete, the doors unfurled and the bus was off. She was now stranded with nothing but the police station.
And the creepy alleyway-guys.
Keeping a watch on the suspicious loiterers, Jennifer walked up the steps leading to the doors. The door was heavy; she had to strain to keep it open long enough to pass through. The door slid from her hands and closed with a thud. Walking to the front desk, she inquired about the location of the dispatchers' offices. The receptionist asked for her identification before giving simple directions. Jennifer thanked the man before heading off. In no time at all she was walking in to a spacious room filled with cubicles.
A woman approached her, hand out. "Hi, you must be Jennifer Moss." The woman smiled.
Returning the smile, Jennifer grasped her hand firmly and replied, "Yes, hi. And you're Marcy Day, right?"
"Yep, that's me!" Their hands dropped. "Come with me and I'll show around."
Jennifer nodded and trailed behind the woman closely, trying to keep up with everything she was saying as she pointed out certain things along the winding tour around the cubicles. The woman seemed to be quite the talker.
She double backed to where Jennifer entered from and gestured to a small mechanical clock hanging on the wall. "Right back over here is the time clock where you'll slide your I.D. to clock you in and out. You have it on you, right?"
"Oh, yes." Jennifer fished through her purse. She just had it. "Ah-ha!" she declared triumphantly. "Found it!"
"Wonderful. Now, you just slide it through and when the option comes up, push 'clock-in'. And you'll do the same for when you're going on break or finished with your shift. Except of course you'll choose the 'break' or 'clock-out' option respectively," Marcy instructed. "Go ahead, slide it through."
Jennifer swiped the identification card and pressed the "clock-in" button.
"Simple, yes?"
"Yes, very."
"Now, be sure to clip that on to your collar," Marcy pointed at the I.D. in Jennifer's hand. "This is a police station, we take security very seriously and as such you must have that on you at all times when you're on the premises."
Nod. "Yes, ma'am." Jennifer clipped in on to her collar quickly, not wanting to cause any trouble.
Marcy's smile eased the nerves bubbling in Jennifer's stomach. "No need for the 'ma'am' around here. Now, let's continue our tour."
Marcy led her to a side hallway that opened out into a large break room. She gestured to the space and said, "This is the break room. Table and chairs," she slapped the chairs on the backrest. "Refrigerator; be sure to label your name on anything you put in there. Microwave, toaster oven, coffee, sink, vending machines," she pointed at each object as she listed it. "Oh, and," she opened the cabinets above the countertops. "There are paper plates and cups up here if you need them. The plastic utensils are in this drawer. And in case you make a mess," Marcy opened the cabinet underneath the sink. "We have all of the basic cleaners here. Think you can handle it?"
"Yes, it doesn't sound too difficult."
Chuckling, Marcy pushed them on to the next destination on the tour. She stopped beside an empty, bare cubicle and smiled.
"This is your new home-away-from-home. I know it doesn't look too homey right now, but once you put up some pictures and bring in a troll doll I'm sure you'll feel nice and cozy."
Jennifer looked at the small space and nodded. It wasn't any different than the one back in Houston. You've seen one cubicle then you've seen them all. She'd have to keep in mind to bring some things her next shift.
"Now," Marcy regained her attention. "You've already been fingerprinted, correct?"
"Yes, that was all done when my picture was taken. For the I.D."
"Good. Well, I'll let you get to work. You do know how to work this?" Marcy gestured to the computer.
"Yep. I've been doing this for several years."
Clapping Jennifer on the shoulder, Marcy said, "Well then, good luck on your first run here. If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask someone. You'll do fine; I can feel it already."
Jennifer thanked her before she left to attend to some other business. She was now alone with her new cubicle. Her new "home-away-from-home", as Marcy described it. The large room was filled with the voices of operators answering calls and dispatching the proper personnel. Her green eyes caught the chair and she stared at it for a second.
This was her new life. Once she sat in that chair there would be no going back. Not that she could anyway. Her apartment back in Houston was gone, Adrian was gone, her job was gone, and now, Bonnie.
The thought of Bonnie seemed to be the catalyst that got Jennifer moving. The chair was filled, her things were dumped on the desktop, and the computer was fired up. Her knuckles cracked as she began limbering up for the long night. A long night spent in a chair, answering the emergency calls of people in the midst of panic. It was no wonder most of the dispatchers she knew had to see a therapist. The demands of the job were too stressful. It affected every aspect of life.
Like a marriage.
Jennifer drummed her fingers lightly on the edge of the white keyboard as the computer finished running through its startup programs. She plugged in her headset and took a deep breath as the calls started flooding in.
A long night indeed.
Her first break was only for fifteen minutes but Jennifer wasn't going to let that go to waste. After clocking for her break she headed right to the break room and searched out the coffee brewer. Having forgotten to bring a mug from home, she borrowed one of the backups from the cabinet and set to work. She didn't have much time to spare.
"Hey there! You must be Jennifer Moss, right?"
Taken by surprise, Jennifer turned to find a young man roughly her age grinning down at her.
"Um, yeah, that's me." She forced a smile.
He stuck out a hand. "Marcy told me about you. The name's Jim Lamont."
Jennifer shook his hand briefly. "Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you," he turned to the sink where he dumped out the contents of his mug. "How's your first day treatin' you?"
Jennifer observed him quietly. "It's alright. Nothing that I'm not already used to."
Jim straightened and asked, "Oh? This isn't your first time?"
She shook her head. "No, I worked as a dispatcher back in Houston for a few years. So, this is quite routine for me," she informed.
"Is Gotham any different from Houston?" He sounded genuinely interested. "You know, I haven't left Gotham in years. Practically been here since the day I was born."
"Well, for the most part they're similar. The only big difference is that Houston doesn't have any crazy madmen trying to annihilate everything in their path."
"Yeah," Jim chuckled. "Gotham's charm, I suppose. So then, what brought you all the way here? Especially since we do have crazy madmen trying to annihilate everything in their path."
Jennifer matched his chuckle while answering, "I needed a change of scenery."
"What, Houston not exciting enough for you?"
"Nope, I need to be in constant fear for my life or I'll die of boredom," she joked.
Jim dried his mug. "Ah, a woman in need of high-stimulation. What scenery needed changing?" His tone sounded innocent enough but that didn't keep Jennifer's smile from disappearing.
"Just, you know, stuff."
Looking up from the sink, Jim studied Jennifer's face. He recognized that expression. The downcast eyes with the faraway look, the lax lips, the despondency weighing down the shoulders; he knew it all too well. "Oh yeah, I know what you mean. Terrible, stuff is."
They fell into a silence, both lost in their separate regrets.
"Your coffee's ready."
Jennifer jumped out of her rumination. "Sorry?"
Jim gestured to the coffee maker. "Your coffee is ready."
"Oh! Yes, thank you!" Jennifer turned to the coffee pot and poured the caffeine into her substitute-mug to the desired amount. She gave Jim a sheepish smile. "Thank you. I really appreciate it. I don't have a lot of time to be messing around."
He returned her smile. "Don't worry about it. Got to take care of the fresh meat, yeah?"
"Yeah," Jennifer cradled the warm mug. "Well, thanks again. It was nice meeting you, Jim."
"You too, Jennifer. Have a nice night."
"Oh, you too!" Jennifer began to realize that their conversation was dragging out into awkward-territory.
Jim smiled as he said, "I most certainly will. My work's done for the night actually. I'm heading out in a minute. Just came to wash out my mug. Otherwise I'd forget at home and then I'd come back in and it'd have all that gunk dried on the bottom and it'd be impossible to wash," Jim stopped when he realized he was rambling. "So, yeah."
"Wow, sounds intense."
He shrugged. "You learn these things after awhile, you know. But yeah, I'm off to unwind at a jazz bar. Relax, enjoy some tunes."
"A jazz bar?" Jennifer asked, intrigued.
Jim answered with a nod, "Yeah, 'Broke Benny's' is a nice jazz bar not too far from here. Why? You like jazz?" He eyed her with interest.
It was her time to shrug. "I might."
"Well, you should check it out. Hey, maybe we could even meet up there for a drink sometime," he offered.
Jennifer smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that."
"Alright," he could barely contain the smile bubbling across his lips. "I'll let you get back to work."
She departed with a smile and a small wave before making her way back to her cubicle. This time when she sat down, her mind wandered to more pleasant thoughts. Maybe things couldn't go back to the way they were, but now Jennifer wasn't too sure she wanted that. Things seemed to be working themselves out just fine.
Jennifer was on a mission once she returned home. The vast expanse of nothingness that greeted her when walking through the door deflated her buoyant mood.
"Something has to be done about this," she sighed.
She half-expected the blank walls to respond with, "Yes, yes you do! Please, clothe us in color and décor! Make us beautiful and appealing!"
Stripping off her coat, Jennifer hung it back on the coat rack and headed straight to her bedroom. Her clothes spilled to the floor before she balled them up and tossed them in the hamper in her bathroom. She hastily threw on a pair of cotton shorts and an old Christmas sweater before setting her sights on the box containing her bed linens.
Her room brightened immensely once her bed was all made-up. The dramatic improvement only encouraged her to forge on. Jennifer pushed the rest of the furniture into their desired places. Books packed the bookshelf, clothes filled the drawers of the dresser, laptop and printer were set up on the desk, and the alarm clock was placed on the nightstand.
Before long, she had to roll up the sleeves of her sweater and throw her russet-colored hair into a hasty ponytail. Jennifer quickly found that she was unable to hang any of her artwork or decorations due to her lack of hammer and nails. Instead, she stacked them in a corner of her closet for safekeeping.
Boxes emptied throughout the night and well into the wee hours of the morning. Jennifer finally stopped when she placed the last of the bowls in a kitchen cabinet. She was sweaty and exhausted, but felt good with the amount of progress she made with her random burst of energy.
Stumbling her way to her freshly-made bed, she crawled underneath the welcoming sheets and sighed contentedly. Rest would be important for her next shift that night.
Phone.
Jennifer's eyes flew open and her hand shot out from underneath the blanket and closed around a cell phone placed on the nightstand. The power cord was pulled out and allowed to fall to the carpeted-floor. A push of a button turned the device on and Jennifer's eyes were alit with the illuminating welcoming message. Earlier, she made the decision to leave the cell turned off at home so that she wouldn't have any of the pain follow her to work.
After finishing with the loading, the phone alerted Jennifer that she had several new voicemails. She sighed, though this time it was disheartened. Rather reluctantly, she pressed for her voicemail. For each message that had a relative or friend beginning to express his or her condolences, she automatically skipped it. She could listen to them in full later
The last voicemail wasn't from anyone she recognized. It wasn't even about the funeral or Bonnie's death.
Jennifer didn't breathe the entire time the recorded message played. It was a woman, a nurse who worked at Arkham Asylum; Jennifer knew next to nothing about the institution but the name alone conveyed a sense of foreboding. After her brief introduction, the nurse dove right into a long-winded explanation about the reason for the call.
It was a patient.
The nurse had Jennifer's full attention, and then some. She divulged that there was a patient in their care who had a "Jennifer Moss" listed as a relative. Jennifer couldn't think of anyone she was related to who would be in Arkham. Not even anyone she knew. She was the first of her family to live in Gotham. Well, other than Aunt Mary and Uncle Roger.
And Bonnie.
"Ms. Moss, this patient wishes to leave for a bit but she has no other family. Her doctor has already approved of a temporary leave of absence; we just need somewhere for her to go." Here, the nurse paused. "Ms. Moss, this is regarding Siobhan Lewis."
Jennifer's heart stopped.
Bonnie.
A/N: I know, I know. Not much happened. I'm just trying to set up Jennifer's character and her situation before I throw her into the stirring pot of crazy-soup that is Bonnie and Joker. Oh, and a bit of Batman.
Funnily enough, I originally planned on having Jennifer be creeped out by Jim and his advances; but, I started writing him and he turned into this sweet guy and it just seemed to fit. Plus, Jennifer needs to have something happy with what she's going to go through by the end of this story. So now I'm getting kind of excited about writing their relationship and how it's affected by her cousin.
I hope you enjoyed this beginning of the end of this little two-part series. Any comments, constructive criticisms, questions, concerns, etc. are welcomed and respected.
Thank you for reading and have a marvelous day!
:)