Thank you to crystalstars88, Pavi's Girl, anna, Mrs. Twilight, Namesless Grace, HoistTheColours, SatanReaper666, Hollywoodlover95, Mad-Dog-GXO, YolandaFriella and corbsxx for your reviews! Sorry about the wait, this chapter is long overdue.

Kaleidoscope

Chapter Six

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As she was pulled out of the office and harshly dragged down the brightly-lit hallway by the clown who was gripping her arm unnecessarily hard, Michaela knew that this was what it was like to be a prisoner on death row. Having had her last meal (in this case, her last conversation with the man she loved), she was now walking towards her execution.

The door was in view, a few seconds and they'd be through. Michaela started to breathe heavily as every possible worst case scenario ran through her mind. Roger's public appeal for her safety had pissed off the Joker enough, but now she was guilty of trying to escape him altogether, adding to her list of offenses. She really, really, really hoped the clown hadn't heard the part of their conversation in which Michaela had revealed their location; surely the clown would be only too happy to offer that information to the Joker, and then who knew what he would do.

What to do, what to do? Was there anything she could do? Perhaps she could kick the clown in the junk and waste no time in flying down the nearest stairwell? Perhaps she could pretend to faint; she was fairly sure the Joker would want her to be awake when he killed her, so that she could scream louder, struggle frantically, and maybe bleed a little harder. She could pretend to faint and feign unconsciousness until the Batman came!

As they neared the door, Michaela looked around for anything that might help her. She searched for a fire extinguisher, a water fountain, something she could grab and hang on to, something she could pick up and throw, anything. Anything!

But all efforts were futile. Her heart was racing when the clown pushed the door open and shoved her through, like shoving a lamb into the lion's cage.

The first thing Michaela noticed was the two uniformed men sitting at the far end of the room against the picture window, their knees drawn up to their chests. They both looked relatively horrified; the one was nursing a bleeding cut just above his right eyebrow. Michaela figured one of the clowns had hit his head with the butt of a gun in a way to shut them both up during their fight. She was relieved that neither of them had been killed.

The second thing she noticed was Dorian, standing upright and only a few feet away from her, the second clown stood next to him and had his gun pointed at Dorian's head the entire time. Dorian was red in the face from anger, and his hands hanging at his sides were curled into fists and trembling. He acknowledged that she had been brought in but he would not look at her, and it made Michaela feel even more abandoned.

Finally, and the most horrible thing she noticed, was that the Joker was no longer sitting down on the desk. He was up, pacing the floor anxiously, and when she and the clown came into the room, he stopped pacing and stared at her.

Michaela's heart thundered against her chest as she realized what he was saying to her with his eyes. He had given her a fair warning, and she blatantly ignored him. Now she was going to pay the price for being such a disobedient hostage.

The clown came into the room and pushed her shoulder with the heel of his hand, making Michaela jump and her eyes turned to the carpet to escape the Joker's gaze. "They were in one of the offices, boss."

Michaela winced as the clown gripped her bruised arm and squeezed. "This one was using a phone."

There was dead, quiet silence in the room. Michaela trembled, stared down at the carpet, knowing she was about to face her doom, until she heard the Joker's unusually high-pitched voice perk with interest. "Really?"

Michaela looked up and her eyes widened in horror as the Joker grinned a little bit. What was funny about the fact she had been using a phone? Or was he really smiling because he found it amusing? Maybe he was smiling just to spite himself. Either way, the Joker started to approach her slowly. He had his eyes on her and they wouldn't move; all she could do was stare as her heart dropped into her stomach and she felt all the blood leave her face.

The Joker approached her until he stood within arms reach of her. She felt like she was shrinking under his towering height; she didn't know why but the way he towered over her always made her feel small and helpless. His taunting little smile was soon gone and he was looking at her with laughter in his eyes.

"So ah, who were you calling, Mi-kay-lah?" The Joker asked, his voice high and nasal, almost mocking and sing-song. The informality of the question made her wonder if she had really heard him correctly. Then again she figured that he wanted to make sure she hadn't been calling the police to reveal their location.

Michaela swallowed, discovering that her throat was painfully dry, and told him the truth. She figured if she told him the truth, the guilt wouldn't show as badly on her face. "…My boyfriend."

The Joker laughed suddenly, an annoying high-pitched giggle, and she was taken aback because he was laughing right in her face, scaring the hell out of her. Michaela noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that Dorian had turned his head and was looking right at her. She wished she could have seen the look he was giving her, but she didn't dare look away from the Joker.

When it seemed he had gotten the last of the giggles out of him, the Joker swept his tongue over his scars and tilted his head a little, a teasing smile on his lips. "And what'd you say to him?"

Michaela frowned but figured once again that he just wanted to make sure she hadn't given away their location. This time, with a little conviction, she told a lie. "…I told him I loved him."

As she said these words, the light in the Joker's eyes changed. They perked to some degree, and his teasing little smile widened into a full yellow grin. As Michaela stared into his black eyes, wondering what the hell he thought was so damned amusing, she suddenly realized what she had just said.

She had Roger on the phone…she actually had him on the phone! What had she told him? Did she tell him that she wished she hadn't covered Jamie's shift tonight? Did she tell him that she was dying for a piece of pizza when she got home? Did she tell him that she'd been staring at the picture of them at New Years and oh, wasn't that such a romantic evening? Did she tell him that when she saw his appeal on the television, her eyes had stung with tears because she was so happy he was there with her, even in television-esque spirit? Did she tell him about her dream where he had totally walked in on her in the dressing room while she was trying on swimsuits? Did she tell him that she was pining for him, missing him more then anything? Did she tell him she was going to die under the Joker's hand and she would never see him again? Did she tell him that she loved him? Did she?

No. No, no, no, no, no, no. She didn't tell Roger that she loved him. And what was worse? The Joker knew. He positively knew she hadn't told Roger that she loved him. Somehow he knew and he was grinning because he knew he was taking advantage of both her fragile state of mind and her love for her boyfriend. She hadn't told Roger she loved him and immediately she felt like she was going to be sick.

Suddenly her legs felt like they would buckle under her weight. The realization came over her: she had Roger on the phone, spoke to him for the very last time…and she hadn't told him that she loved him.

"Sooo," the Joker drawled, staring at her with the same ever-knowing smile, his eyes narrowing a little bit. "You told him you loved him, did you?"

He said it in half a cheery lilt and half in a sneer, the verbal equivalent of spitting in her face. Michaela wanted to burst into tears and shake her head, but she couldn't do that either. She stared at the Joker but not because he had her memorized, and not because he was frightening her. Michaela was furious; how she wished humans could combust and burst into flames when they got angry enough because it would sure be a way to send a message. Careful not to change any of her facial features, she narrowed her eyes to the Joker with all the anger and fury in her being.

I hate you. Oh, how Michaela longed to spew the words out at him. I. Hate. You.

But instead, just to be safe, she stared at the Joker and lied again. "…Yes."

The Joker's toothy yellow smile turned into a long, lazy, smug grin, like he knew he had caught her in a telltale lie, and she hated him even more for it. He continued to smile at her and she felt the expression on her face sour as his black eyes stared at her, laughing at her.

Then, ever so suddenly and without warning, the Joker came towards her swiftly; Michaela, all feelings of anger tossed completely aside, gasped on first instinct and stepped back as though he were about to plunge a knife in her chest. Her heart thundered hard against her chest as he reached for her; she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to convince herself it would all be over soon, when she felt him grip her shoulder and pull her forward. Michaela took in a sharp breath as he coiled his arm around hers, not in an iron grip, but hard enough to ensure she wasn't going anywhere. She flinched hard as he pulled her right up against him, so they stood shoulder to shoulder.

"I think you better come sit with me, Mi-kay-lah," he said crisply into her ear, his hot breath making her shudder. "Since you seem to be too much for these clowns to handle."

He said it half at her and half over his shoulder to the clowns, probably because they had failed to keep her and Dorian from escaping. But that hardly mattered to Michaela; the only thing she was conscious of was how close the Joker was to her. She could feel the heat from his body, and the grip on her arm, however not painful, was like a shackle that she could not escape from. The smell of him flooded her nostrils instantly; he smelled like laundry detergent, probably from the suit, and the faintest spicy smell that was genuinely all male, which seemed fitting; she'd never expected someone like the Joker to go waltzing into a department store to buy a bottle of Armani cologne.

But then the Joker began to move quickly in long strides and Michaela struggled to keep up with him. Her legs felt like jelly, her feet were sore from the stilettos she had been wearing all day, and her entire body felt heavy. Her body screamed in agony as she moved with the Joker, who led her towards the desk. It was then she noticed the wheeled chair that had been pushed under the desk, and reaching over the Joker pulled it out, pushed it against the wall, and did all but shove Michaela down into it.

As soon as Michaela felt herself sink into the leather she sat upright, frozen, her eyes tilted down and fixing on the purple pants he was wearing as he towered over her for moments. She clutched the hem of her jacket so tightly between her hands that her knuckles went white.

With Michaela securely in the leather chair, not daring to move, the Joker turned away from her and wandered over towards Dorian. Michaela looked up, watching the Joker's purple-clad back as he moved away from her, and her eyes shifted to Dorian, who stood tall and unrelenting, his eyes cold and hard. She noticed suddenly that Joker and Dorian were nearly the same height, and for some reason it made her feel a little more secure.

"So ah," the Joker mused as he stepped in front of Dorian. "Who did you call?"

Michaela leaned forward a little, barely able to hear them, and watched as Dorian breathed in sharply through his nose. "My wife."

Biting down on her lip, Michaela watched nervously as the Joker began to shift impatiently on his shift. "And uh, what did you tell her?"

Dorian did nothing but stare with the same hard expression on his face. In fact it looked as though he was trying to keep from openly sneering at the Joker. He leaned forward a little bit towards the Joker. "Nothing. She was asleep."

Instantly Michaela knew it was a lie. He wouldn't have spent that much time on the phone to his wife if he couldn't get ahold of her. And the way he said it, with anger and the slightest hint of attitude, told Michaela that not only did he probably get ahold of her, but he probably told her to get the hell outta dodge.

Whether the Joker bought it or not was hard to tell. He continued dancing between his two feet with irritation, as though wondering whether or not to trust him. Then, the Joker seemed to have come to a conclusion.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "All right."

And he turned to one of his clowns, made a gesture with his thumb towards Dorian, and Michaela watched as the clown came forward, all of a sudden, and slammed the butt of his gun right into Dorian's nose.

Michaela screamed as she watched it happen. Dorian let out a cry that was more surprised then painful, and his hands went up to cover his face. Michaela watched in horror as he tried to keep his nose from bleeding, but blood was already starting to gush through his closed fingers. Then, in his bloodied state, the clowns forced him down towards his previous spot on the floor, where he tilted his head back in an effort to stop the bleeding. His expression told Michaela that he was seething but at a loss to do anything.

In an instant, Michaela knew why the Joker had done it. After Dorian was securely sitting on the floor clutching at his gushing nose, he dismissed his clowns back to their previous positions. As soon as the Joker came over and resumed his position on the desk, Michaela just froze, not daring to move or even to breathe. Since she'd run away, he probably figured she was less likely to do anything but sit still and behave if the Joker himself was going to baby-sit her.

Michaela looked at poor Dorian with his head tilted back, nursing his nose, and she would have done anything to trade places with him; she would easily have taken the pain and blood of a broken nose over the perpetual torture of sitting so close to the Joker.

What was worse was that the chair was pushed up against the wall so she couldn't even see the TV, and she was too afraid to look over her shoulder in case the Joker lashed out and punched her in the face or something to that effect. So she sat perfectly still. It had been the perfect solution.

She was closer now to the two bodies, and observed for a moment the large pool of blood beneath them that had now soaked into the carpet. Repulsed, she looked away, her attention fixing on the two uniformed men. The one continued to nurse his head wound, touching it carefully as though trying to keep it from bleeding, and the other was staring down at the carpet, visibly trembling. She didn't know how the fight was broken up, but she figured it was probably pretty harrowing.

The Joker leaned forward in his seat, pressing his palms together and rubbing them almost anxiously. Michaela looked over and realized that, if she wanted to, she could reach forward and put her hand right on his left knee; she shuddered at the thought, realizing just how close he was to her now.

His presence was menacing and hung over her like a bad thought, so she stared straight ahead, listening to Jack Ryder blaring in her ear. She fixated her gaze on a blown-up picture framed and mounted on the wall, one she hadn't noticed before. It was a Gotham Cityscape taken at night, obviously of the financial district, but she was surprised to see that the Wayne Tower was absent in the picture. It made her frown; she figured photos inside the Wayne Tower would have been of the skyscraper itself…

Next to her the Joker started humming a strange tune to himself as he watched the TV and Michaela stiffened. In her ear she heard Jack Ryder blabbing away about the charred remains of the bank, and how the police had recovered the remains of three adults and were trying to find the fourth. Michaela closed her eyes, her heart heavy for the families of the four victims who had to watch their loved ones die on television and sit by while their bodies were burnt to crisps.

The Joker smacked his lips loudly. "Where oh where could the Batman be?"

He said it rhetorically, of course, and when Michaela turned to look at him, she was perturbed to find him nodding his head back and forth, as though dancing to some tune. Then he turned and looked right at her, making her jump a little. He smiled, but then again she figured it could have been her imagination, what with the painted smile and all.

The Joker smacked his lips and leaned towards her just a little. "Isn't he just the worst to keep us waiting like this?"

Michaela swallowed tightly, captured under his gaze for moments. She didn't know if he was expecting her to say something in return or if he was just saying it rhetorically. What kind of answer was she going to give him? Yes, the Batman's a jerk for not rescuing us and letting four people die. Yeah, she was sure that would go down real well with someone whose temper flared as the drop of a hat.

Nevertheless, he was still staring at her…why? Michaela stared back at him, into his hard black eyes, and flinched when he licked his scars with his lips, the serpentine movement repelling her. She turned her eyes forcefully away, down to the floor, so she wouldn't have to look at him anymore, and therefore couldn't feel compelled to say something that was bound to get her killed.

But, as it turned out, she didn't have to say anything to invite the possibility.

"Breaking news! Ladies and gentlemen, breaking news from the GCN news room! We have just received word that the Joker is hiding in Wayne Enterprises Tower!"

Reeling her head back to look at the screen, Michaela was shocked when she heard the words. All she could see were the pixels of Jack Ryder's massive jaw line on the television as he practically had a conniption fit for all viewers to see.

"Due to an anonymous tip, Gotham City Police now suspect the Joker as well as hostages are hiding in the Wayne Enterprises Tower."

She felt them before she could even comprehend what Jack Ryder was saying: the Joker turned his eyes directly to her. She straightened and looked right at him, her mouth open, about to plea to him that it wasn't her who'd said anything although quite truthfully yes, it was her, she had told her boyfriend where they were on the phone.

It didn't seem to matter though. The Joker's lips were pulled into a tight, mean little frown; his eyes narrowed and gave her one look: truly murderous. She gripped the arm rests of the chair, dug her heels into the floor, and was more then prepared to run.

But her grip relaxed as she realized, really, for the first time that night…there was no point in trying to run.

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A/N: Sorry about the wait, everyone. I had originally written this chapter to go in a direction I really didn't like, but I think I've got it figured out now. Hope you enjoyed.