Chapter Nine

Author's Note: This chapter was more than twice as long as my other installments, so I decided to split it into two parts. This particular part gives you a glimpse at a side of J that you may not be used to, but one that I think is integral to my story. I wanted to provide another layer of complexity to Madeline and J's relationship. I hope you guys like it! As always, feedback is welcomed and encouraged. You can expect part two tomorrow.

"Get out of here!" I commanded, ushering J out of the bathroom so I could start putting on my makeup. By the looks of my face I had a lot of work ahead of me, especially since our reservation was at 8 and it was already 6 - I was nowhere close to being ready.

J grinned as I shoved him past the doorjamb, carefully of course, as to not add any more strain to his injured knee. He turned to face me as I stood with my arms on either side of the entryway to our bathroom.

"You know, my little bunny, I'm not entirely fond of surprises." I looked up at him, crossing my arms over my chest defiantly.

"You weren't fond of the idea of me in combat boots either, but if I recall correctly you came around to that one quickly," I teased, sticking my tongue out at him before shutting the door, separating us completely. I heard him laugh on the other side and it made me smile as I made my way back to the vanity to start trying to cover up the discoloration on my face.

Thank God for good makeup. I thought, when I'd finally concealed the majority of the purplish bruises that decorated my cheekbones and eyes. I was relieved to see that the knot on my forehead had been reduced to a tiny bump. I'd been putting cold compresses on it since Richard left to take care of our dinner plans.

I set my foundation with a translucent powder from Chanel that smelled divine and began to contour my cheeks, jawline, nose, and forehead. I silently thanked the internet as I worked. YouTube had become an integral part of my life once I was on my own. I spent countless hours watching makeup tutorials to try and gain some semblance of feminine appeal. My father taught me much, including how to capitalize on male desires, but he wasn't equipped to teach me how to be a woman.

When I was satisfied with how well I had blended everything out I reached for my blush and highlighter. I swiped the blush delicately along my cheek bones and the apples of my cheeks, then used the highlighter to add a dewy glow from my temples down, as well as a pop of it on my nose, and a swipe across my chin. I took my fingertip and dabbed some onto my cupid's bow and was satisfied with the sparkle to my face when I looked in the mirror. You couldn't see the bruises anymore, in fact, the only thing marring my face were the popped blood vessels in my eye.

Next, I defined my eyebrows, brushing all the hairs in place before using my angled brush to fill in the spots where the hair was sparse. I decided to keep my eye makeup light, opting to swipe a thin line of black liquid liner across my top lid before I glued on a set of thick, luxurious falsies on my lash line. I coated my natural lashes with mascara so they stuck to the long fake ones, and took extra care with my bottom lashes, making sure they were all separated and given a generous coating of mascara as well.

I dug around my makeup stash looking for the perfect shade of lipstick and ended up picking out a dark nude color with a matching pencil. I expertly lined my lips, extending just a fraction past my natural lip line, then coated my lips with the velvety liquid lipstick. The cuts on my lips were barely noticeable now. I misted my face with setting spray and smiled at my reflection, feeling my confidence skyrocket. There was something about makeup that made me feel…powerful, elegant, and sexy as hell.

Now, what the hell am I going to do with my hair? I let my shoulders sag, my momentary confidence deflated, as I looked at my hair in the mirror. My face looked perfect, but I was dreadful when it came to styling my own hair. I pulled out a handful of bobby pins and decided to just start pining up pieces and see what happened. I let a few stray curls hang to frame my face and shoulders as I twisted up sections of hair and pinned them in place, taking care to make sure it looked disheveled in an intentional way.

Not bad, Madeline. Not bad at all. I thought, standing up and taking my hand held mirror to check the back of my hair. It didn't look as bad as I thought it would, the twisted knots of hair blended together well and the wisps of my curls made it look like an elegant up-do. I set it with hairspray before tip toeing towards the bathroom door, listening intently for any signs of life on the other side. I cracked the door open as quietly as I could and peeked outside. He wasn't in our room. I exhaled a breath I didn't even realize I was holding and stepped into the bedroom and to my closet.

I was giddy, I couldn't hide or deny it as I bounced around and thumbed through all of the expensive clothes in my closet. I found the dress I was looking for and carefully took it down off its hanger. I turned to my lingerie drawer and pulled out a delicate pink thong made entirely out of lace. I disrobed and pulled it up over my legs, making sure the straps set flush against my hips, then turned back to my dress. It was a deep purple suede, with a high neck, low cut sides, and a scooping backline that stopped just above the top of my ass. I stepped into it, pulling the straps up over my shoulders and smoothing the material down the front. It hugged my body all the way down to the knees where the material belled out, creating an almost mermaid-like silhouette. I did a quick twirl, making sure everything was in place, and as I spun I saw a jewelry box with a bow on top of it sitting on the chair in front of my shoe rack.

Oh, J! I gasped, picking it up and running my fingers along the length of the box. It felt heavy in my hands and I eagerly lifted the lid, nearly dropping it when I saw what was inside. It was a beautiful gold and diamond necklace that criss crossed elegantly all the way around to the clasp, and there were large tear-drop shaped emerald pendants that hung down across the front, varying in size, the largest pendant meant to drape in the hollow of my throat. Two gorgeous gold, diamond, and emerald drop earrings accompanied the necklace and as I looked at them in awe I felt the tears well up in my eyes. They were the most beautiful pieces of jewelry I had ever seen.

Very carefully I slipped the necklace on, making quick work of the clasp as I blinked away my sentimental tears. I put the earrings on next, and looked at my reflection in the floor length mirror when I was finished. My mouth popped open. I looked like a movie star…no, like royalty. My shoulders were back, neck elongated and straight, the curves of my body on full display, the confidence was rolling off of me full force. I felt beautiful. I scanned my shoe rack for the perfect pair to compliment my outfit and set my eyes on my pair of gold Louboutins. They laced up to mid-calf and had a pointed toe with floral looking cut outs along the top. When I had the straps secured I grabbed my golden clutch, making my way back into the bathroom to put a few essentials inside and spritz myself with my favorite perfume.

I took one final look in the mirror and I barely recognized the woman who stared back, but dammit I liked what I saw. I looked like a woman who had the world in the palm of her hand, someone who had everything she could ever hope for. The type of woman that pulled out envy and desire in those around her. The type of woman I always wanted to be. I realized then that had it not been for J, I never would have been able to become this version of myself, and it felt amazing being able to do it with him. Together. The two of us. An equal, fucked up, beautiful pairing.

I took a deep breath as I exited the bathroom, the clock on the wall said it was 7:15, which gave us enough time to get to The Enclave. I pushed our bedroom door open and saw J sitting at the piano playing a melancholy tune on the keys, his back to me. He was in a penguin tux, the back of his suit jacket hanging low behind him. He had on shiny black and white oxfords, and his hair was slicked straight back and combed to perfection. The bedroom door clicked shut and he immediately stopped playing, spinning around on the piano bench to look at me.

I can't be sure, but I swear I saw his chest hitch, as if his breath got caught in his throat at the sight of me. He didn't give much else away as he rose and began to saunter towards me, his cane tapping the floor as he went. There was a fire in his eyes that made me blush, a shyness creeping over me that I was unfamiliar with. When he got close enough to me he reached out and hooked his finger under my chin, lifting my face up to look at him. Both of his hands were covered in white satin gloves and when I looked up at him I noticed that he, too, had concealed the bruises on his face.

"Miss Malice," He breathed, releasing my chin and taking one of my lose curls to twirl around his finger, "you look…" There was an emotion in his eyes that I didn't recognize. Fondness, maybe? It wasn't the desire or attraction I was so used to seeing. There was a tenderness to him in this moment that was so foreign to me.

He let go of my curl and dragged his satin fingers down the side of my neck, resting it on top of my shoulder as he cleared his throat.

"Do you like the jewelry?" He questioned, brushing the back of his hand across the Emerald pendants.

"They're beautiful, J. Thank you." I said, reaching up to push a stray hair back that had dared to escape his perfectly styled coif.

"You should always be draped in the finest materials this miserable world has to offer." He finished, the tenderness still present in his eyes as he looked at me. We stood there, frozen in time, drinking in the appearance of each other. I thought fleetingly if this was what love must be like, and quickly pushed it out of my mind. I didn't believe in love. I couldn't fall in love and neither could he. Just deep, obsessive attachment. But I had to admit that I was enjoying this newfound softer side to him, it appealed to me in a way that I never thought it could. I didn't want this, right? I wanted our tumultuous, cantankerous relationship. The extreme highs and lows, the fights, the rough sex, the destruction. Still, I couldn't stop myself from wondering how different the sex would be if I took him to bed right now, or how different our lives would be if he was always like this.

We broke eye contact when we heard someone clear their throat. It was Richard, waiting awkwardly at our front door.

"Apologies sir, ma'am," He said, "but it's almost 7:30 and we have a bit of a drive back into the city. If you could both follow me, the car is waiting for you."

J cleared his throat again and took a step back from me, I saw the last trace of whatever he was feeling leave his eyes as he extended his arm out to me.

"Shall we, my little bunny?" He asked as I hooked my arm in his, bringing my hand to rest in the crook of his elbow. I smiled up at him, enjoying the sound of my heels clicking against the tile floor as we made our way out of the apartment.

"We shall."

The ride to the restaurant was spent in comfortable silence. J pulled me into the circle of his arm once Richard had shut the door, and was dragging his satin-tipped fingers up and down the exposed skin of my side. As we got closer to town J rolled down the partition and spoke to Rich.

"You did what I asked, Richard?" He questioned, never stopping the slow drag of his fingertips on my skin.

"Yes sir, I've got some of our most skilled men on it. The cops should have their hands full well into the night."

"Excellent," J said approvingly. "I don't want anything to interrupt us tonight. Keep me well informed if anything changes."

I looked up at him then with a puzzled look on my face. He hadn't mentioned any activity planned tonight other than dinner and our meeting with Anton. He returned my gaze and brought his free hand up to stroke my cheek.

"Never you mind, pet." He said. "I just sent Gotham PD on a wild goose hunt so you and I can enjoy our meal and take care of business." His eyes darkened at the end of his sentence. He was always eager to get to work, always cooking up schemes to destroy the fabric of society. Although I had to admit I was flattered that he went through so much trouble to ensure we had a good evening together. It was a bit surreal – going on a dinner date with The Joker. The thought was almost comical, but he was a showman and I was now his supporting actress.

The car came to a stop and I broke our gaze to look out the window at the grand entryway to The Enclave – Gotham's very own three Michelin star restaurant. I never dreamed I'd ever step foot in the place and yet here I was with my twisted clown prince at my side.

Richard parked the car and came to open J's door, handing him his cane as he stepped out, and allowing me to grasp his hand for support as I followed suit.

"I'll let you know if anything comes up, boss." He said, as I hooked my arm in J's on the sidewalk. "You two go enjoy your evening, everything has already been taken care of." Rich looked at me and gave me a goofy lopsided grin that was so out of character for him. I wondered briefly what the hell he was so happy about.

"Thank you, my good man," J called to Richard as he guided me to the front doors and escorted me inside. The maître d' greeted us warmly, if he was uncomfortable or scared of J his face gave nothing away.

"I believe I have a reservation under Joker," He said smoothly, but I saw the corners of his mouth begin to twitch upwards. "The Joker."

I couldn't stop myself and snorted out a laugh. Normalcy amongst the chaos. I thought as I grinned up at him.

"Yes, sir, right this way," The maître d' said, grabbing two leather-bound menus and leading us to a small, intimate table in the back of the restaurant. The inside of the place was gorgeous. Tall marble pillars lined the walls up to the impossibly high, arched ceilings that looked to be coated in pure gold, there was a small orchestra playing softly from a stage in the back corner, and the tables were covered in immaculate white table cloths with gorgeous floral bouquets at each one and place settings that had more silverware than I knew what to do with. Extravagant gold and crystal chandeliers hung at different intervals across the ceiling, casting a warm yellow glow across the room. The ambiance was magical. A girl could really get used to this. I thought fondly.

The maître d' made a move to pull out my seat but I saw J bring his gloved hand out to grasp the man's arm, letting a soft growl escape his lips. Only then did I see a crack in his composure when his eyes widened in shock and he stepped back immediately.

"Apologies, Mister Joker, sir," He stuttered, scurrying around the table to instead pull out J's seat.

I grinned, moving to sit down, and J tucked my chair up underneath me. Before I was completely seated I straightened out the fabric of my dress to make sure it didn't get caught under the legs of the chair. The maître d' handed me my menu as well as their wine selection and once J was seated he did the same to him. The man bowed profusely, backing away from us as he wished us a good meal.

I took a moment to look around at the rest of the tables in the room. I recognized some of the faces – a senator, a hot-shot lawyer with a woman who definitely wasn't his wife, even a table full of congressmen, what business they had in Gotham I'll never know. As I scanned the room I noticed how uneasy they were, without giving too much away. Still, I could see it. The women were touching their necks and shifting in their seats uncomfortably, the men were staring at their plates, none of them daring to look in our direction for more than half a second.

"Pathetic, isn't it?" J spat, noticing me staring down the surrounding restaurant attendees. "How easily their silence can be bought. They'll stuff their gullets full to the brim with food and wine then go home and tell all of their friends and family how they survived a night with The Joker, when in reality I merely acquiesced their cooperation by appealing to their greed."

I looked over at him then, my eyes tracing the frown lines on his forehead and the scowl on his lips. We shared the same disdain for society, me and him, and while he had more experience with it than I did, we enjoyed pointing out the hypocrisy of it all. We knew what we were and where we fit in this world, but it was so much fun to make a mockery of all those who were content with living their lies. I reached across the table to place my hand over his, a small gesture that made his focus shift back to me. His face softened as I squeezed his fingers.

"Good evening sir and madam, may I start you off with one of our many exquisite bottles of wine?" It was our waiter, I hadn't even noticed his approach.

"We'll have a bottle of the Cheval Blanc Merlot," J replied, not taking his eyes off of me. I was vaguely aware of the waiter uttering his consensus and backing away from our table. I arched one of my sculpted brows in his direction.

"You drink wine?" I asked, a playful smile forming on my lips.

"It's one of the few things we've gotten right over the years," He shrugged, "Well, that and whiskey." I stifled a laugh. He was full of surprises, and his mood tonight was unparalleled. Our waiter returned in an instant, pouring our glasses expertly before setting the bottle in a bucket that was nestled in a cart he rolled up to the side of our table.

"Have you decided on your meals?" He asked, folding a towel over his forearm. I hadn't even looked at the menu since we sat down but J didn't miss a beat and ordered for both of us, some lavish sounding seafood dishes that I'm sure I would love. The waiter scurried away when he was finished and I found myself staring at J, still trying to wrap my head around this evening and the way he was behaving.

"J," I began, placing my hands in my lap to fidget with my napkin nervously. "You're…different tonight. Is there something on your mind?" I held my breath, waiting for his response. He laughed across the table at me.

"Oh, my dear Madeline," He cooed, "things don't always have to be so tempestuous between us. I'm not always in a mood to destroy things. Sometimes I enjoy doting upon myself and, now you. You've been so…good. A woman who can stand her ground with me deserves something as a token of my appreciation and admiration."

"Admiration?" I questioned. It didn't seem like a feeling he was capable of having for anyone other than himself and maybe Batman.

"Yes, kitten. I admire your gumption! How you bravely tamed the beast in me," He took a sip of his wine and his eyes darkened when he looked back at me. "At least for now." I swallowed hard, letting him continue.

"How did you put it again, pumpkin? I believe you so eloquently said 'our crazies fit' – and it would seem that you are correct in your deduction. Although, I must admit that I'm not used to someone able to keep up with me…calm me down…contribute to my madness. It has been one hell of an adjustment, one I don't think I'll ever get entirely used to."

I knew he was right. His previous partnership was the polar opposite to what we shared. Because of that I was prepared for his backslides. I was prepared and more than willing to keep reminding him of who I am and why I'm here – what I do for him, for us. I didn't care if I had to do it every day. I didn't care if it took a conversation or a physical rebuke – I'd do it a thousand times over if it meant that I could stay with him and dive deeper into this pit of insanity. I was strong enough, for the both of us. I'd be beside him through it all, no matter the consequence.

"I've grown quite fond of you in these weeks, Madeline, and I don't know how else to show you that but through things like this." His eyes held so much sincerity that it made me smile. He placed his hand on the table, palm side up, and I eagerly laid mine on top of his, relishing in the feel of his satin fingers as they delicately gripped my wrist.

"This is…more than enough, J. I mean, I never even dreamed I'd step foot in this place, and yet here we are. Me and my clown prince." I grinned at him and he laughed.

"You know, I've always like that little nickname of mine. 'The Clown Prince of Crime.'"

When we finished our meal and were waiting for dessert, some ridiculously expensive chocolate truffle thing that I couldn't pronounce, J stood up from his seat and offered me his hand.

"Dance with me," He commanded gently, to which I obliged, slipping my hand into his as I slowly rose from my seat. He led me towards the small orchestra on the opposite end of the restaurant. As we went, people's conversations that had picked up over the course of our meal had reverted to hushed whispers when we passed which made me smile smugly.

You should be afraid, I thought, of both of us.

There was a panel of polished wood floors in front of the orchestra, a small dance floor directly in front of the stage, and J wasted no time twirling me into his arms – his hand placed securely around my waist, albeit a little lower than is considered appropriate, but I didn't mind at all. I slipped one hand into his other that was extended between us and brought my other hand up to the nape of his neck where I pushed my fingers into the short hairs there.

He led us across the floor in a waltz, spinning me around and dipping me along to the sweet sounds of stringed instruments. I had to admit I was more than impressed at his obvious ease with which he moved us both – it felt like we were gliding, and it wasn't long before I was breaking our proper stance to pull him closer to me so that I could rest my head on his shoulder. His chest vibrated with laughter as he circled his arm tighter around me, bringing our clasped hands to rest on his chest as he rocked us side to side slowly. I breathed him in and he smelled like home to me. Expensive cologne, gun powder, sweat, and soap.

The song came to an end and I took longer than I should have to release him. He nudged us apart, a smile still on his face, and escorted me back to our table where the dessert was waiting for us…and so was Richard.

Shit.