Thankyou to everybody that took the time to read this and r/f/f'd it. Sorry for the long wait, I had limited internet access and had a lot of school work to catch up on. The next chapter is underway :)! A part of Rosalie's past and how everything ties in may happen in the next chapter, depending on how Jack will react to certain things said. Needless to say, he's obviously done something that's going to make her re-evaluate how different he is from everybody, but I just hope everybody keeps in mind that Rose is also a person with a twisted mind but it just hasn't been shown very much.

Please review and follow!


"Gotham police are still at work trying to find these group of men targeting young women. These crimes are unacceptable and inhumane. We urge all young women to stay with somebody at all times during the late afternoon to late at night. We also urge shopkeepers and women with late jobs to be careful, and if possible, leave early."

Like hell. Rosalie switched the TV off. She had had a beautiful bath and was now dressed in her favourite pyjamas. A silky green singlet, bought from some lingerie shop, and a pair of less luxurious panama pants with lions on them. Misery was curled up by her side, purring himself into a slumber.

Rose tried to ignore the fact that she was really craving golden syrup. Placing a hand on the cheek that Jack had touched, she ran a finger down it. Shaking her head, she wondered what she was doing and glanced down at her coffee table. Some gossip magazine was there and she decided to read it.

Flipping it open, causing Misery to stir she looked at one of the headlines.

Bruce Wayne, Billionaire

Bruce Wayne, buys a new car

Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne

Bruce Wayne

She decided she already hated the magazine.

Laying her head down against the pillow that she's propped up behind herself, she decided to sleep on the couch.

Eventually, she allowed the darkness to invite her forward.

During the night, she had woken up to a loud clinging sound and a strange whining noise. As drowsy as she was, she remembered where she was. She was in Gotham, and sometimes noises could mean life or death so she decided to think about the possibilities of what it could have been, without falling asleep.

It couldn't have been the door. Misery was still by her side. It sounded as if if came from the bedroom...

Mousetrap.

She must have caught one for once. She hadn't known there were any mice inside. Misery should have caught it, although he was lazy. The thought brought her ease though and she slowly drifted back to sleep, forgetting the sound.

Her dream was strange.

Rosalie stumbled through what seemed to be a large freezer, like the ones at ice cream factories. Every single shelf held no products. Everything from the floor to the roof was covered in frost.

Her bare flesh was bit into by the cold. She could feel each of her blood cells freezing. She watched her breath in front of her in white swirls.

Suddenly, a sound broke the silence of the freezer. As she looked forward there was a grey door, with a wide window inside of it.

A dark figure came up to it, and the sound of a commotion outside of it happened. There was shouting and screaming, and suddenly a line of blood was spurted onto the window. Slowly, it dripped down, and formed the word 'smile'.

The crimson word sent chills down her spine and she watched as the ends of each letter seeped into small droplets.

Suddenly, the lights all went out and Rosalie awoke with sweat lacing her body.

Gasping, as she put a hand to her chest and coughed as she sat up. Her heart still hammered and adrenaline rushed through her blood as if she were still in the dream.

Misery was meowing on the floor beside her, obviously he had been rudely awoke by her nightmare as she had been.

Glancing at her phone it was only five minutes until her alarm went off. Groaning, she rubbed her eyes and saw the sunlight seeping in through her window's blinds. Spots of it shone onto her skin in warm pockets and it was a great contrast to her dream, where her blood had felt frozen.

As she deleted the alarm she'd set for herself, she remembered the mouse trap she'd heard in her closet.

Getting up she walked into her room, wishing she's slept on the bed for we couch had put pressure on her neck. As she went to open the closet, she glanced at her reflection, her nightmare had obviously ruined her 'beauty sleep'.

As she opened it, she glanced down. The trap had been set off, but there was no mouse inside. There was blood though, enough blood to cover the wooden base of it. Oddly enough, she could smell it's rusty scent, as if it were human.

Tucking her hair behind her ears she tried to peer into the rest of the closet to see if the mouse had died somewhere else, but there was no sign of it. Not even a blood trail. Frowning, she took the mouse trap in her fingers anyway and put it in the rubbish bin. Maybe Misery had eaten it.

She chose a cream dress, with woven black flowers on the bust. Hating herself for it, she put on her black cardigan, despite the sun already biting her skin through the window. As she put it on she glanced at her scars, closing her eyes.

Rosalie applied a little bit of makeup and then decided to put a choker on. The scar still looked half fleshy, and stood out from her pale skin. The black and purple ruffles hid all of it, although it scratched her neck.

As she walked to work, she found herself thinking about Jack instead of listening to her music. What did he want from the shop? Would he turn up today? Would it be as strange as the day before? Absentmindedly, she ran a hand down her cheek where he'd cupped it. Sighing, she shook her head. What was wrong with her!?

As she opened up her shop, she pursed her lips. The walls could seriously do with painting. She just couldn't find the time to do it, or the height. As she glanced around in the shop, she almost wished she had returned back to making her own costumes. The ones in the shop were only half as good as her own. Making them used to be an easy and fun distraction, and all of the parents had loved her when she had made the costumes exactly the right side. She had been good at it too.

Deciding to stop dwelling on her costume making for the time being, she checked the stock in the back, making sure it was all out already. The rest of it should have been delivered in the day.

Considering the fact she barely had customers anymore, she decided to listen to music through her headphones, if anyone came in she'd just get did of the music straight away. As she turned her headphones up to the maximum she smiled happily, music always helped her escape.

Smile by Pearl Jam began to play once more. She decided to just leave it on repeat. The guitar and voice soothed her, although the entire song was sinister.

As it played a third time, she decided to sing along with it. Staring at her desk she tapped her fingers to the guitar. Her hips swayed with the music and her head nodded slightly.

"Don't it make you smile?

Don't it make you smile?

When the sun don't shine (don't shine a all?

Don't it make you smile?

Don't it make you smile?

Don't it make me smile?

When the sun don't shine (it don't shine at all)

Don't it make me smile

I miss you already

It's you always..

I miss you alrea-"

Suddenly, Rosalie's earphones were ripped out from her ears. Jumping and turning to the side, her eyes collided with somebodies shirt. Jack's to be exact. She wished she could avoid his eyes, but she really couldn't. They stared down at her and his scars made him look as if he were smiling, or perhaps he was. She couldn't tell.

He held both earphones in one gloved hand, the music blared from both of them.

He licked his lips and chuckled

"Excellent, ah, singing. Bu-ut, is the song really, ah, appropriate?" His voice seemed to be laboured, the way older men's do when their backs are in pain.

Raising an eyebrow, she wondered why his voice was like that. She did feel bad though. The song wasn't exactly what she would have picked if she knew he had been there. She hadn't even seen or heard the door open. Didn't even see his shadow walk up to the front desk.

As she stared up at him, unable to speak, he stared down at her. She noticed his eyes beginning to get mad so she immediately switched her gaze to his shirt.

Rosalie's eyes widened as she saw in the middle of his shirt, a darkened patch. Darker than his already black shirt. Without thinking, she pressed her hand to it, feeling a warm stickiness. Glancing at her fingers, she saw the substance was red.

Stumbling back she gaped up at him. He seemed to have an almost sheepish look about him. His lips were turned up in the slightest smirk, miraculously, despite the pain of whatever wound was hidden by his shirt.

"W-what happened?"

There was a long silence and she knew, she just knew, he was staring at her. She half wished she or he had been blind, just so he couldn't stare at her any longer.

She was aware at how he was leaning a little to the side, as if the wound was forcing him to. His arm went to scratch the back of his head but he winced and bent over in pain.

"I, ah, guess I annoyed some-bod-y." He coughed as he said it, and she felt a pang of worry.

What had happened to him? Had somebody cut him in the street? How far had he walked before reaching the shop?

Putting her hands in her hair frustratedly she glanced around. Finding her phone she held it out to type in 911. She didn't know how bad it was, but she knew it was too painful to watch.

Suddenly a gloved hand reached out and closed around the phone and her hand holding it. His grip was to tight that she let out a small whimper, forgetting to worry about looking into his eyes. They were staring down at her and anger laced around them.

"No, hospital."

Jack snarled, a low grumbling sound coming from the back of his throat after he said it. He almost sounded like a wolf growling.

She averted her eyes down to the glove, looking at the creases of the brown leather. His hand shook slightly, as if he were struggling to keep his grip. Why didn't he want to go the hospital? Was it drug related?! Her heart hammered in her chest. Although he was strange, she hadn't thought he would be into that, at least not using the anyway. She hadn't smelt anything on him that made her think so.

Rosalie knew that she couldn't trust him. She couldn't trust anybody, ever. She almost felt a responsibility to help him, though. Staring at the glove for a moment she pursed her lips, if he wouldn't go to the hospital, she'd help him. He had saved her life the other night.

Rosalie nodded her head a little in understanding, allowing her hair to fall in her face and over her cheek that was facing him. The gloved hand fell away once she did that, however it came up to her cheek and brushed the hair out of the way.

"I-I have a first aid kit in the back. I'll go get it." Rosalie stuttered, moving immediately to go around to where she kept all of the stock in the storage shelves.

Once she was around the corner, blocked by the small wall and storage shelves, she pressed her hands around one of them and inhaled and exhaled slowly.

Why had he not wanted to go to the hospital? Why had he made his way to her shop and not somebodies home? Why was she actually going to help him, a stranger?

Rosalie lifted her eyes up to the shelf that held the first aid kit, seeing it's outline. She came to the realisation of why.

She was attracted to his strange nature. His difference to everybody else. She was curious about his scars but most of all, she was curious, intrigued and frightened by his eyes.

With that knowledge of herself in her head, she reached up and grabbed the kit. Walking back out she saw he was still at the counter, clutching his middle and muttering to himself.

Turning to the door, she hesitated. Should she close the shop up? What if he tries something and nobody will come in the shop for days? Shaking her head, she decided if he was going to do something he would have done it already.

Flipping the small red card that had 'open' and 'closed' on either side, Rosalie lowered and closed the binds on the door as well. She didn't want anyone coming in. What if it had been a drug thing? If a policeman walked in she'd be counted in as help towards the crime.

Glancing at one of her purple stools, she grabbed it and dragged it over in front of the front desk where he was currently standing behind.

"J-Jack, can you sit on that?"

Glancing up at him she saw he was staring at her again, his head tilted like a confused puppy and his greasy hair tumbling to one side.

"What's the mag-ic word-ah?"

Rosalie almost dropped the first aid kit in exasperation. Was he really trying to make a joke when he was obviously seriously injured? However, she knew he was strange, and perhaps he was only going to let her help him if she played by his rules.

"Please?"

Jack placed a hand over his injured spot and grinned, a strange noise coming from the back of his throat.

He took his time getting to her and by then she had opened her the kit on the desk. She heard him sit down, heard the cushion press down as he sat on it.

An incredibly wave of heat flooded through her as she turned around. Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire. Jack's dark eyes had been staring off at no where in particular and as soon as she turned around, they flickered slowly up to meet her own green eyes.

Clearing her throat, she decided it would be a lot easier to help him if the kit was by her side so she moved it on the floor and she kneeled on her knees infront of him. The stool was almost comically small, so her face was to his middle. She found it almost humouring that he was such a tall man having to sit in the stool, but he didn't seem to get the joke, so she decided not to laugh.

"Can you take your jacket and your shirt off?"

Rosalie had asked it hesitantly and she had hoped he would just obey her request but of course, a long silence set in. He stared at her pointedly and she sighed, shaking her head.

"Please?"

Rosalie tried not too blush too much as she watched him. His face contorted in pain briefly as he took off his jacket, tossing it to the floor. She ran her eyes along his arms, admiring the muscles she hadn't really expected. He kept his gloves on despite his bare arms. She watched as he put his gloved hand underneath the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head.

Rosalie bit her lip and tried not to stare to much at his surprisingly muscular form. It came to her much easier though, when she saw the large amount of smeared crimson blood on his middle. Some of it was caught on the fine hairs leading down to his jeans.

Her heart stuttered and she grabbed a cloth from the first aid kit and began to swipe it across his pale body, ignoring the smoothness of it when her thumb brushed over his skin.

Rosalie wiped over it once and then turned the cloth over to the cleaner side, wiping once more. Glancing down, she furrowed her brows as she smelt a familiar smell. It was the plastic scent of fake blood that she often used in the store.

Breathing in a shaky breath she felt her heart stop. She had wiped more than 85% of it away and she saw no gash, no wound, no injury, no cut. It was all fake blood. He had faked it. And now she was in a position where he could easily do whatever he liked to her, because she'd been stupid enough to believe it.

Feeling herself try to swallow something in the back of her throat, ignoring the loud pounding of her heart and the lack oxygen to her brain her eyes slowly flickered up to Jack's face.

Rosalie's breath caught in her throat as she stared at him, his black eyes turning. Suddenly, a gloved hand came over her mouth with a piece of cloth that smelt something like bleach. Despite herself she couldn't struggle, instead, she almost let the dark spots embrace her and her vision.

"Sorry, doll, but I just gotta know-ah."

Rosalie's vision was blurred as she awoke once more, she could feel a chair underneath her, however. Her vision was already dark and as it cleared, it seemed even darker. In panic, she tried to lift her arms and stand up from the chair but something forced her still. Looking down Rose saw that her wrists were bound to the chair's arm rests in torn black material, her legs seemed to be tied to the chair's legs in the same fashion.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Peering out infront of her, she noticed something. A black glass kitchen table. Her black glass kitchen table. She was at home. As her eyes strained to look out past the end of it, she could make out a silhouette of somebody. She saw, infused in his silhouette a cat's tail flicking back and forth lazily. Rose could hear Misery's soft purring. Narrowing her eyes, traitor, she thought.

"Welcome home, hon-ey."