The Victim

A/N: I own nothing but the plot and my character. I've deliberately not given her a name. She is just meant to be one of the Joker's nameless victims. Please review!

She sat, high up on a rooftop on a warm heavy Gotham night. The air was thick and languid with hardly any breeze to stir it. Sounds from the city far below drifted up to the silent rooftop, shattering the peace with muffled sirens and car horns.

Although the air remained still, a prickling awareness sent shivers through her body, causing all the tiny hairs on her bare arms and the back of her neck to stand on end.

Footsteps sounded to her right and she strained her ears to try and determine how close they were.

They came closer and she stiffened, unable to run, instinct took over and made every muscle tense. Her body prepared itself to fight, her last moments would be here on this rooftop and she was going to make them count.

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Earlier that night, she had been having a perfectly normal evening. She had finished work and walked home. The streets of the city had been busy, the air hot and humid, and as she had reached her apartment, she was thinking longingly of a cool shower. Afterwards she dressed in sweats and a t-shirt and ate her dinner on her balcony overlooking the teeming streets below. Gotham never really slept. All hours of the day and night were filled with noise and chaos. The only place she could enjoy some peace and quiet was the roof garden on her apartment block. It was here that she retreated nearly every night in the summer. Enjoying the scent of the jasmine she had planted and the roses she was growing to trail up the ugly brickwork. Lying back against the deck chair she had carried up with her she closed her eyes and breathed the sweet scent of the flowers.

She must have drifted off to sleep, she realised with a start. Something had woken her up. Groggily she opened her eyes, but could see nothing. With growing horror she realised she had been blindfolded. She tried to sit up, but was unable to move. Something was holding her to the chair. She struggled; her arms and legs were tied together. She started to panic, her breathing growing fast and shallow. Sweat began to bead on her forehead and trickle down her back as she struggled violently against her bonds.

The footsteps grew closer and she sensed someone moving around her, like a shark circling its prey.

"Who are you, what do you want?" Her voice shook slightly, breaking the silence.

There was no response, the footsteps stopped in front of her and she could hear the soft rustling of material.

"Why have you done this to me? Please, tell me what you want!" Her voice rose, becoming shrill with panic.

There was still no response from her assailant. Suddenly she could hear a faint humming coming from not far in front of her. It was a man's voice, softly humming a tune she didn't recognise. She resumed her struggles against whatever bound her to the chair. Her heart hammering wildly in her chest.

Something touched her cheek, caressing softly. Smooth leather against her skin. She stiffened briefly at the touch and then began to struggle franticly.

"No no no, I wouldn't do that if I were you."A strange sing song voice whispered in her ear.

"I've tied you quite tight; you know you won't get free unless I decide to untie you."

Her sobs grew louder, tears soaked through the blindfold and down her cheeks. The smooth leather wiped them away gently.

"Sssh sssh sssh, don't cry."

She tried to stop, making soft little hiccoughing sounds as she tried desperately to regain control over her emotions.

"Who are you?"

She felt him move behind her, then the blindfold began to loosen and finally, she could see. She blinked her eyes to clear them of the residual tears and sweat. It was very dark on the rooftop but her eyes adjusted quickly. Nothing looked out of place; her flowers were still trailing lazily around the brickwork, her colourful flower pots untouched. As she took several deep calming breaths of the warm night air, a hand encased in dark leather smoothed her hair back from her face.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want to see who you really are."

"I don't understand, do I know you? Why are you doing this? I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Of course you haven't." The strange voice was close to her ear, she could feel his breath on her cheek, hot and sweet.

"Then why are you doing this to me?"

"Let's just call it fate."

She felt him move, the warmth that had been at her back disappeared and she heard his footsteps retreating. Panic surged through her again and she tried to kick her legs free of her ties. The sudden movement caused her chair to rock violently and fall to one side. She landed heavily on her side, unable to move to break her fall. The sharp gravel cut into her face and arm and she felt the sting of blood as it ran down her chin and dripped onto the ground.

"Where are you going?" She called out to the retreating footsteps. "Are you just going to leave me here like this? No one will find me; it could be over 100 degrees tomorrow!"

She heard him stop and then a chuckling laughter filled the air, he came closer and the laughter turned into a whooping cackle as he crouched behind her and lifted the chair back onto its feet. Gravel was embedded in her cheek and the top of her arm and she winced as fresh blood began to trickle its way down her neck.

"You know, I was prepared to walk away, to leave you alone, but now you've made a choice, you've called me back and now my dear, we're going to spend some quality time together." The voice whispered in her ear again and her heart sank at his words. Why had she called out? Surely she could have freed herself in time. It was sheer panic that had rebelled against being left alone on the roof with no shelter from the burning sun.

He walked around and crouched in front of her and for the first time she understood just how bad her situation was. Even in the dark, there was no mistaking the white face and scared mouth.

"Oh God." She whispered.

The Joker giggled "I'm afraid not my dear."

"Please don't hurt me; I haven't done anything to deserve this. If you let me go I swear I won't tell a soul."

"No no no, that won't do at all; I think this could turn out to be a very interesting evening. You say you haven't done anything to deserve this, but I'm sure there's something you're not proud of. Nobody's perfect.

"Please, I swear, I'm a good person, I keep myself to myself. I go to work, I come home. I never hurt anybody! She was starting to cry softly, tears mixing with the blood leaving pink streaks on her pale skin.

"I'm sure there are things in your past that you're ashamed of, everyone has and I can tell by looking at you that there's gotta be something. Why don't you tell me hmmmm?"

"No, no there's nothing, I'm just boring and ordinary, there's nothing to tell."

He stroked her hair soothingly "You'll feel so much better if you just get it off your chest."

"There's nothing to tell, honest."

"TELL ME!" He roared suddenly, making her jump and let out a small scream. "Tell me and you'll feel so much better."

"O-okay, there was this one time when I was a kid, I stole something from my best friend. I was jealous of her, she had everything, and I wanted a piece of what she had. I've felt guilty about that ever since."

"That's good, keep going."

"I – I don't have anything else, that's it."

The Joker sighed and grabbed a fistful of her hair tightly. "You know, I can tell when you're lying." He said softly. "You really don't want to upset me; I'm not always this nice." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out something silver, it shone in the dusky light and she could see it was a knife. He placed it carefully against her cheek and she could feel the cold metal against her hot skin. She began to struggle again, hardly feeling the pain in her head where he still gripped her hair.

"Please, don't hurt me."

"Then tell me the truth."

"What do you want my life story?"

"That's a start."

She began to tell him, and as she spoke she realised there were a lot of things in her life to be ashamed of. Things she had kept buried for years and almost forgotten about now came bubbling to the surface. In her teens she had rebelled, stealing from her parents and partying with the wrong crowd. Her Father had tried everything to get her back on the right track but she had rejected all his help. In the end, the stress of trying to deal with her had caused her Father to have a heart attack. His health had never been brilliant, but the money worries and the agony of watching his little girl turn into a monster was more than he could bear. She hadn't visited him in hospital, not believing his condition to be serious and telling herself she didn't care. Her Mother had begged her to come, saying it would make her Father better if he knew she still loved him. She refused and it was only when her Father died 3 weeks later that she realised her mistake.

Tears were pouring down her face now as she told the Joker how her Mother had rejected her, blaming her entirely for her Father's death. He stroked her face lovingly, wiping away the tears as they fell.

"I was 14 when my Mother threw me out, I deserved it I know, but I was just a kid, I didn't know my Father would die."

"It didn't make you change though did it?"

"No, I just went to stay with my friends, sleeping on their couches until they were tired of me and asked me to leave. I had no money, no home, nothing. I tried to call my Mom but she wouldn't even speak to me."

"So what did you do? All alone in the world, just a poor lonely girl who no-one cared about. What did you do hmmm?"

"I needed food, I was desperate, and I had nothing but the clothes on my back so I sold myself so I could eat. I only did it once, it made my skin crawl but I made enough money to stay at a shelter. Luckily for me the people in charge saw how young I was and they got me a place with a foster family. I managed to stay out of trouble and now I have a good job."

"Do you think you deserve that job, you seem to have a pretty nice life now, but really, after what you did, do you think you deserve it?"

"No." She said in a small voice. "No I probably don't."

"Do you ever see your Mother? Now that you have such a nice life, you could probably help her out with all those debts she probably still has hmmm?"

"No." She whispered. "I haven't seen or heard from her in 15 years."

"But surely if you're such a good person now, you would want to make amends for causing your Father to die and her to lose everything?" His voice rose, becoming more excited in the quiet of the rooftop.

She shook her head. "I haven't tried to make contact; I thought she was better off without me. I don't even know if she lives in the same place anymore."

He tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him, his dark eyes bore into hers and she could see terrible joy in them. He leaned close to her so that their noses were almost touching. "I think you're right, she is better off without you."

As she gasped in surprise, he kissed her forcefully pushing her back against the chair. She froze in shock, her lips responding to his automatically. He moaned softly in pleasure, his hands stroking through her hair, and soon she felt herself begin to respond. As soon as he felt her return the kiss, she felt him smile against her lips. She didn't feel him move his hand down to where he had placed the knife. She didn't feel him draw it quickly across her throat. As she began to float away, he pulled away and stood up. Straightening his clothes, he returned the knife to his pocket. Bending down to her, he whispered in her ear.

"Thank you."

It was the last thing she ever heard.

A/N: I'm not sure how well I feel this turned out. It's just my take on my theory that the Joker uses human emotions like a drug. I see him feeding off the misery of others in order to get his fix. Anyway, it's just a thought! Let me know what you think!