The Devil's Sneer and the Angel's Kiss

All characters belong to DC Comics

It felt like a cold and unrelenting bite of ice sunk into his veins. Tension grew with the unpredictable ambiance of death. James sat across the steel table, feeling the only warmth of humanity waver against his rigid muscles. He knew Leslie had his back. Still, he was uncertain of subjecting her into a dark world of unbidden chaos. He clenched his hands into fists. His knuckles cracked and grayish-blue eyes settled on the teenager sitting in the chair. He always used his judgement to read the hidden deception etched in the faces of the guilty. For some reason, he found a vacant and chilling semblance on the boy.

Murderous dark eyes filled with ebony flames of morbid pleasure and pale skin was curled when the grin—that Cheshire grin of depravity bled out of his still expression. Tears were false. Jim kept his heart shields up. No allowing the child to infiltrate his mind. It was clear to him that the boy was a shrewd and wicked sociopath—a person able to manipulate others with twisting lies and fake emotions while acting clearly reformed and stable after witnessing their victims scream for mercy against their blood stained hands. The boy was the servant of the devil. A unemphatic demon that ravaged through the weakened hearts of the circus families, daunting them with simple plots with his undetected murderous traits. He slayed his mother just to silence her nagging voice. She was only authority who kept him locked in the trailer-that barred him from the world so that he wouldn't make it burn.

There was no division between insanity and morality. Jerome was conscious of every spiteful word that seeped from his smirking lips. His neck twisted around to stare at the blind fortunate teller—his eyes clouded with malice and face contorted malign expression. The young detective knew that danger was cultivating. He had to get Leslie out of the room. He had to keep her away from the boy.

The darkness of the hissing words became waves of dread that lapped against his heart, feeding his racing thoughts with intense flashes of red, threatening to destroy his calm demeanor. It was like a knife twisted into his rips, and corkscrewing through muscle and bone. James knew he had to escape before he would become sucked into the inner chamber of chaos.

Cringing at the haunting crackles of laughter, James shifting his gaze to Leslie, his only light against the darkness. He gave her a weak smile, despite the sensations of feeling ensnared. He pulled out the chair away from the desk, and took her hand, pulling her close as his arm shielded over her back. "You're going away now detective..." Jerome turned his head, licking his tongue over the corners of his lips. "And here I thought we were going to be friends. I know you only have so few that watch your back."

Casting his blue eyes down, James dared a glance at the reddish haired boy, his jaw clenched, and face tightened. "Likewise." he returned, guiding Leslie to the doorway as two officers charged pass him. He froze just for a second, and stared back at Jerome. "Where your going there by lots of friends waiting to stab you in the back...Literally."

Laughing in a thrall of hysteria, Jerome, his eyes sunk deeper into the sockets, and grin stretched widely as if he relished those words. He latched his cold eyes on the older man, ans whispered with no emotion in his sordid voice. His fingers reached for the coat pocket, and pulled out a playing card used for a magic trick. A Jokers face was printed in green, purple and red. He looked at the image, smirking and chuckling. His hands were fastened in handcuffs. "I think I'm going to like it here, paps."

{ +++}

When Leslie admitted that observing interrogation was scary, but mind blown thrilling. James felt the hollowness of the Jerome's voice rattle the hinges of his soul. He didn't want her to become part of that world.

"Let's go home," her soft words implored him to breath the space between them.

He smiled broadly, his eyes narrowed at her ruby lips. "Okay, this time I'm making breakfast."

Leslie mirrored his smile, her brown eyes lit up, "Can you bake me a pie as well?" she asked, jokingly.

James nodded wordlessly, more urges to kiss her were settling inside his guarded heart. For a vague moment, he knew that even through everything was spiraling into a chaotic hurricane, he had her love to keep him from drifting further into the storm. "Alright," he sighed out with a heavy breath and watched her full lips curl into a wolfish grin. "I'll try to bake you a pie. Don't expect it to taste good."

"Don't worry, I won't," Leslie utter, caressing her fingers over the chiseled skin of his set jaw. "Just in case, not that I don't trust your cooking skills...We'll have Bullock try the first bite."

James smiled, and tilted his head closer to her face, his nose traced over the curve of her jaw, breathing in the scent of her. "Deal," he finally whispered.

Although he wouldn't admit it, James was falling in love with her. It was only after taking his eyes off of her for moment, that he realized they were sitting on a bench in the locker room, alone with the open halfway open.

Staring back at her, James found his resilience when his gray eyes met her chocolate orbs. He told her only a few words, and then pulled her close, his hands wove though her dark strands of hair, holding onto her like a lifeline—an anchor that would bring him back if he were to drown within the dark waters of the city.

He felt her hands grip his shoulders reassuringly, and then without hesitation he crushed his lips against hers, enveloping a wet embrace of dangerous and compromising passion, as he pour out everything into her. He was kissing away the pain and doubt. Focusing on nothing—just her.

This was the only human contact he needed during those distressing moments of being watched by a demon trapped inside a form of a boy.

The world faded around them. Leslie never broke away, she kept her lips interlocked against the melting wetness of his mouth, and they devoured, shared and embraced each other with every empowering kiss and touch of grace that made them feel beyond human...No longer weak survivors of a war, but strong defenders—unbreakable and unyielding shields of justice.

Fighters, protectors and lovers.