Heavy rain poured down on Gotham City, drenching anything and anyone unlucky enough to be stuck outside. This included Leila and Jay as they climbed out of their separate cars at Station House Fourteen, glancing over at one another in confusion as they rounded either side of Matt's mysteriously empty Jeep. It was uncommon, even downright rare for him to beat either of them to work, so the idea that he had already arrived and gotten out to go inside was suspicious. Leila hurriedly used her messenger bag as a makeshift umbrella, holding it over her head and shielding her sleek ponytail from the falling water as she and Jay trotted toward the docking bay. Both paused once they had reached the shelter, frowning and staring at the empty ambulance.
Jay placed his hands on his narrow waist, glancing over at Leila. "Well, where is he?" he asked rhetorically, since it was obvious she did not know. "Ain't like him to get here early...And by 'early', I mean 'on time'."
Leila nodded her agreement and shrugged, using her hands to attempt to brush some of the water droplets from the shoulders of her uniform. "He's probably inside eating or something," she suggested hopefully, moving toward the door to the station, figuring Jay would follow in her wake.
Pausing inside the door momentarily, Leila glanced to her left, into the break room where she had expected to find Matt, eating lunch or perhaps reading one of his sports magazines. A confused frown formed on her face as she felt Jay pass behind her; the room was empty. However, a moment later, a door down the hall creaked open, attracting her attention, where upon turning to look, she saw the object of her search stepping out, followed shortly by one of her two bosses. Leila felt her heart sink at the look on Matt's face. He looked forlorn, tired and, if she was seeing his expression correctly, somewhat sad. She approached her locker, averting her eyes quickly to avoid being caught staring while the two men shook hands, but she kept her ears open to what was being said.
Mitchell, the EMT supervisor, clapped Matt on the shoulder. "Just give me a call and let me know when you're ready to come back, Park," he was saying; Leila's heart sank even further. She may not have had any desire to date him but she did care tremendously for her co-worker and friend and did not like the sound of what her boss had said. "I'll have Phil cover for you. We're overstaffed on the morning shift anyway."
Leila chanced a quick, subtle glance over her shoulder, just in time to see Matt nodding his head and taking a deep breath. "Thanks, man," he said, his voice sounding gruffer than usual. "I shouldn't be gone that long, but I'll keep you in the loop. Later." Hoping to appear as though she had not been listening, Leila sighed, pushing her messenger bag into her locker as Matt began walking down the hall toward her and Jay. Fortunately, Jay spoke first, giving her the opportunity to turn around. He nodded his head toward the office door in the distance, behind which Mitchell had just retreated.
"What's up? You leavin'?" Jay asked, as simultaneously, Leila noticed that Matt was not wearing his usual uniform, and was instead dressed in a pair of jeans and a navy blue polo. He nodded, glancing sideways at her.
"Yeah," he answered, shrugging his shoulders as he pushed his hands into the pocket of his fashionable, tattered jeans. "My brother died last week. My mom-" He paused, again glancing at Leila as she gasped in both shock and sympathy. "My mom called me this morning and told me."
While she leaned forward to give Matt a consoling hug, Jay's face was blank in what Leila could only assume was surprise, seeing how she was feeling that same emotion; neither of them had ever heard him mention a sibling. She shook her head, taking a step back after they had separated from the brief embrace.
"I didn't even know-" she began but Matt cut in, shrugging his shoulders.
"-that I had a brother?" he finished her sentence. "Yeah, he and I weren't really close. We sort of grew apart when I went to college. He, uh-" Matt paused, clearing his throat somewhat awkwardly. "Well, it doesn't matter. He's dead so..."
It was quiet in the hallway. Leila did not know what to say, and apparently, neither did Jay. Matt did not seem all that upset, though once she thought about it, she figured that may have been his way of dealing with personal grief. It was, after all, a part of their job to remain professional and stoic around death and injury. Nevertheless, she knew a deep portion of him was distraught and she could not help but feel deeply sorry for him.
"Damn, dude," Jay started, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."
Beside him, Leila nodded her agreement. "Yeah, Matt, that's terrible. I'm really sorry."
Furthering the image that he was mostly unscathed from the news of his brother's death, Matt shrugged his shoulders again, forcing a half-grin onto his lightly stubbled face. "Thanks, but I'll be alright," He motioned down the hall with his thumb. "I was just asking Mitchell for a few days off so I could go to the funeral and all that. Plus my mom's kind of a wreck right now, so..."
"If there's anything we can do to help, just ask," Leila implored him, her eyebrows raised and her expression sincere. "Seriously."
He smiled in return, reaching out to squeeze her upper arm gently. "I'll be fine," he answered. "Just try to survive the next few days with Phil. He's covering for me."
Only Leila and Jay could understand what Matt had meant by 'survive with Phil'. The man was one of the younger paramedics on the force yet displayed some misplaced sense of seniority that typically had his coworkers rolling their eyes and eager to get away from him at the end of their shift. And seeing how Leila was already feeling vexed enough from her unexpected company the previous day, she did not feel that her nerves could take much more strain. Phil was known for his rather crude sense of humor and eerily nonchalant attitude toward the more serious cases, something Leila strongly disliked about him. She had been working as a paramedic for over a year but still felt the utmost compassion for her patients; she hoped to never lose that. However, there was one patient she felt she could spare and not bat an eye...Fortunately, she had yet to face an emergency involving him.
A few hours later, Leila looked over to the open double doors of the ambulance as Phil climbed back inside, grinning cheekily about the rude comment he had just made to one of the nurses outside Gotham Municipal. She looked away to continue removing and disposing of the now unsanitary paper on the stretcher, meanwhile fighting the urge to roll her eyes with great difficulty. Phil shimmied past her toward a seat on the bench and plopped down, giving an uncouth sort of groan as he reached up to wipe sweat from his hairline.
"You heard about that casino night they're doin' here?" he asked so randomly that Leila turned and looked at the open doors, thinking Jay had walked up. When no one was there, she figured he had been speaking to her, so she glanced over her shoulder at him briefly.
"Yeah," she replied, turning to shove a rolled up ball of sweated-on paper into the biohazardous waste bin beneath a cabinet. "My dad's a neurologist here so my mom's been begging me to go with-
As if she had not been speaking at all, Phil cut in, "I just asked that nurse Melissa if she wanted to go with me. She said 'no' though...gotta work that night apparently."
Leila bit her tongue, thinking, Yeah, I'm sure that's why she said 'no'. Vaguely, she wondered if Phil would ever realize that nurses' schedules were not often written three weeks in advance.
While Leila finished cleaning up from their previous call, Phil lounged carelessly along the bench seat, flipping through his phone and occasionally letting out a stupid laugh at a text or picture message. Each time she had to pass him and he simply moved his leg to the side, out of her way, Leila felt herself missing Matt more and more, the way he always helped to made the work load seem much lighter. And it was only his first shift gone. How she was supposed to survive the next few shifts with his complacent, arrogant replacement was currently beyond her.
Fortunately, Phil's attitude around the patients was not as bad, so Leila felt it was something of a blessing that their night was turning out to be busy. They had already dealt with two rather strenuous cases and were already on their way to a third by the time inky, black darkness fell over Gotham City. The watch on her wrist currently read '9:37'. Leila sighed quietly in relief. Just under an hour and a half and she would be on her way home, to close and lock her door...and pray she would be the only human being in her apartment that night.
That entire day, and the night before it, Leila had been through an array of emotions, stemming from the Joker's impromptu visit, ranging from outright terrified, to shocked, even insanely amused, to the verge of tears. But now, as she sat there in the ambulance, bouncing along in time with the wheels connecting to the street below, her eyes gazing, unfocused, at the wall across from her, she felt ready to admit she was completely pissed. The motive to his visit had not been clear at first, not until Leila had taken some time to properly think it through. Now, it was obvious to her; the only reason he had come by, other than to be annoying, was to once again demonstrate his increasingly dominant hold over her and her sense of safety. He had clearly established that not only did he have a copy of her key to the apartment, but that he deemed it appropriate to stop by whenever he pleased, meaning that there was never a place nor time in which she could feel safe.
Leila closed her eyes, linking her fingers together in her lap as she listened to the scream of the sirens overhead. She could not help the feeling that sooner or later, she would wake up and find him sitting on the edge of her bed in the middle of the night, watching her sleep, with that disgusting, invading grin on his face. Goosebumps traveled down her neck and the length of her arms at just the thought.
The ambulance came to an abrupt and rather surprising stop, bringing Leila back up to earth from the depths of her personal hell with something of a jolt. She opened her eyes, glancing around, only to find that Phil had already risen from his seat on the bench and was approaching the doors with the bag of equipment on his shoulder, preparing to climb down. Leila followed, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Unfortunately, she had not been paying attention to the call that came through the radio a few minutes prior, but she figured within seconds she would know why they were there.
Flashing police lights assaulted her eyes as she landed on the pavement outside the ambulance, flexing her fingers to rid them of any air pockets that had been trapped beneath the latex. Jay was just rounding the truck as she turned toward the intersection, where the wreckage of two cars sat in a mangled heap. Her bald colleague shook his head in dismay as they began walking briskly toward the scene.
The two cars were a smoldering, twisted maze of warped metal, laying in a sea of twinkling broken glass, having struck each other with such force, it was almost impossible to tell the vehicles apart. It appeared that one of the cars, which was now upside down and dripping a foul smelling liquid from it's hood, had sped through the red light and careened into the oncoming car from the opposite direction, both moving at a fairly high rate of speed. Glass and small bits of metal crunched underfoot as Leila and Jay approached.
"Drunk driver," he explained in a voice raised slightly above the approaching sirens, obviously having noticed the somewhat blank look on Leila's face. "One D.O.A, the other critical."
She groaned. "Where did Phil go?" she asked with her tone at the same volume, glancing around as two police officers standing at the side of the completely totaled sedan turned to look.
Jay shrugged but didn't answer and instead addressed one of the officers. "Where is he?" he asked in relation to where their one living victim was.
"He's pinned in the vehicle," the man answered in little less than a shout over the sound of an oncoming siren. "We're waiting on the cutters. The door and windows are completely smashed." The policeman turned his head as the massive firetruck from House Fourteen pulled up and blocked off one lane of the intersection, it's horns, sirens and lights blaring at full volume. "Oh, thank God, they're here."
While the firemen unloaded the huge, heavy set of hydraulic pliers from the truck, Leila looked up at Jay after she had taken a step closer to the mangled car. "He's losing a lot of blood and going in and out," she explained, her throat already feeling somewhat hoarse from the plumes of acrid smoke issuing from the wreckage. "I'm gonna climb over to the other door and try to get in through the window to the passenger seat."
Jay's reaction was immediate as he shook his head adamantly. "No," he said curtly. "They're almost ready with the Jaws, just wait-"
"He's gonna die," Leila cut in, taking a step away from him, in the direction of the car, completely ignoring protocol. "Once I get in, pass me the oxygen and a neck brace. I can at least try to keep him stable until they can get him out."
Finally, Jay conceded to her plan and Leila was just hoisting herself onto the mangled hood of the car when Phil reappeared, looking breathless and harried, his blue latex gloves covered in blood. He was saying something about the other driver being dead and Jay was responding rather angrily that he already knew that, but Leila was already too far away, too busy concentrating on not cutting herself on the twisted metal to hear what they were saying.
As had already been described, the windshield and passenger side window were both almost completely shattered but held in place by the plastic tint. Without wasting time to figure out a way to break it gently, Leila steadied herself by placing both hands on the roof of the car, before driving her foot through the partially shattered glass, her leg protected by the black material of her uniform pants. The thick sole of her boot traveled the length of the window as she continued to kick the glass out of the frame, before finally, she felt comfortable climbing in.
Lowering herself in through the window was trickier than she had originally estimated, as the force of the impact had caused the door to buckle, thus making the opening much smaller than normal. She had to twist her hips in an awkward angle as she went feet first, bracing her motion with the resistance of the latex against the roof of the car outside. However, once inside the car and at a position she felt was right for dropping into the seat, she released her grip on the roof but felt her back scrape along the bottom frame of the window, where shards of glass still stuck up from the crevice. So great was the adrenaline coursing through her veins that she did not feel the pain.
The man in the driver's seat was almost completely and entirely pinned to the steering wheel, bleeding profusely from a head wound and, as she had mentioned to Jay, slipping in and out of consciousness at an alarming rate. She leaned toward him to speak, meanwhile motioning through the open window to Jay for the neck brace and a thick stack of gauze.
"Sir?" she called loudly enough for him to hear. "Sir, can you hear me?"
The man sitting beside her gave a low moan, his jaw seemingly frozen in one position though his terrified, cloudy eyes swiveled in her direction. "Please-" he somehow managed to moan. "Call my wife-"
"We're gonna get you out of here, okay?" Leila assured him, reaching out across the man as Jay leaned in with the brace. "I just need you to stay as still as possible for now. The fire department is here and they're going to use the Jaws of Life to get you out." Reaching back behind the man's head, she quickly removed the headrest to give her room to strap the brace around his neck and only once it was secure did she speak to him again, this time pressing that stack of gauze to the wound at his temple.
"The Jaws can be pretty loud," she said, glancing through the window again, to where the firemen were now preparing to start the machine. "So try not to let it scare you-"
"Y-you're gonna...stay with me, right?" the man suddenly asked, moving just his weary eyes upward to look into Leila's.
She smiled immediately, reaching down with her free hand to gently grip his trapped wrist and rub it with her thumb consolingly. "I'm staying with you."
Once the car had been cut apart and her patient removed, then carefully placed on the stretcher, Leila stayed true to her word and did not leave the man's side until he was safely inside the hospital, where upon briefly examining him, the ER doctor informed her that the chances looked good for his survival. When she returned outside to the waiting ambulance where Jay and Phil were sitting, she sighed in relief, grinning at them with something that felt remarkably like satisfaction and happiness; she had almost forgotten what those emotions felt like.
Jay returned her expression and reached up with a closed fist for a congratulatory bump from Leila. He nodded at her once. "You made a good decision back there, Hawkin. I'm proud of ya," he told her, leaning to the side slightly to give her access to the medical waste bin so she could dispose of her bloody gloves. "If you hadn't gone in that car, that guy would have probably died...Really good decision-making on your part."
"Thanks," Leila replied, her cheeks almost beginning to hurt from her wide smile. "He was a nice guy too," she went on, reaching down to the velcro pocket of her cargo pants when she felt her phone vibrate gently against her leg. "It's a shame he had to go through that tonight. He told me he was just on his way home from-"
Words utterly failed Leila as she glanced down at the device in her hand. Stupidly, distracted by the elated high she felt after saving a life, she had assumed the vibrating phone in her pocket was the one personally belonging to her. It was not.
The phone in her hand, the phone blinking a message of '(1) missed call', was the one belonging to the Joker.
She swallowed hard as goosebumps crawled up her arms and twinging back, the feeling of sick panic welling up inside her as if she were about vomit. With trembling fingers, she hastily shoved the phone back into her pocket and looked to Jay.
"Can we-" She paused to swallow again; the urge to puke in fear was becoming overwhelming. "Can we go back to the station?" Leila asked as calmly as she could.
Graciously, across from her, Jay seemed to notice nothing as he nodded, glancing at his watch. "Yeah, it's about that time, isn't it," he answered, standing from his place on the back step of the ambulance, but paused to point at the third, nearly useless member of their team. "Phil, clean up the papers and towels in there before we get back. You ain't done a damn thing all night."
The entire ride back to the station house, all Leila could do was glance, panicked, through the window of the truck every few seconds, watching the familiar surroundings whiz by, feeling that, given the chance, she could probably run there faster than Jay was driving. How she had missed the shrill, high-pitched ringing of that damn phone was a complete mystery to her, one that would likely cost her her life. What was she supposed to do then? I'll go straight to the police once I get in my car. I won't even go home, she thought desperately. Out of curiosity, just to see what time he had made the call that would ultimately be her undoing, Leila fumbled for the phone in her pocket again, pulling it out and opening it to look at the missed call log.
There was only one number there, listed under the name 'Unknown', followed by the numbers '10:13 pm'. Leila stared at this time for several long seconds before she sighed, resigned to her fate, and leaned back against the wall behind her. At ten-thirteen, she had been climbing into the man's car, tending to the accident victim and she figured that if she was going to be killed for being unavailable, at least she had been doing something worth while. At least that man's wife had not become a widow that night. Hot tears begged to spill down her cheeks, but Leila rebelliously held them back; she would not cry over this. She would NOT cry.
Despite whatever calm state of resignation she had achieved on the ride to the station, Leila nearly flung herself out of the ambulance in her haste to get inside to the lockers for her bag. Behind her as she ran, she heard Phil's stupid voice call out after her, asking where she was going when there was still cleaning to do, but she ignored him and attempted to dodge Jay at the corner of the truck.
He frowned, reaching out with both hands to grasp her shoulders. "Woah, woah," he started, holding her still and looking down at her in confusion. "What's up with you? Where are you in such a rush to?"
Sighing frustratedly, Leila bounced on the balls of her feet, shaking her head. "Jay, I gotta go. My-" she hesitated for only a split second before a hastily formed lie flew to the forefront of her mind. "My neighbor just texted me, saying my apartment is flooding. My landlord is freaking out, saying a pipe burst." The words came flying out of her mouth at such a rate that Leila was almost positive she would have to repeat herself to Jay. Much to her relief, he let go of her a second later.
"Well, shit, you better get going then," he said, nodding his head toward the door. "Phil can clean the rest of it."
After the accident scene she had just witnessed, running the solid red lights between the station and her house seemed beyond foolhardy, but Leila was currently far from caring. Cold sweat had built up quickly along her forehead and chest so as her car bounced into the basement parking garage of her building, she unbuckled her seat belt, struggling to drive and undo the buttons of her uniform shirt simultaneously, figuring that the less time she spent outside between her car and apartment door the better. Although, once she thought of it, the inside of her house was no longer any safer than if she were to stand out on the street.
Now left in just her white undershirt tank top, her black pants and boots, Leila pulled into the first open space, immediately shut off her car and got out, glancing around, keeping her ears strained for any irregular noises. She turned her head toward the stairs. They were not far. She could run fairly quickly, perhaps even stop on a floor or two below her own, to catch her breath and double back to be sure she wasn't-
The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Her arms were suddenly coated in goosebumps. Whatever small amount of breath left in her lungs escaped her in a defeated huff. Leila turned slowly, her eyes drawn to him as if by magnets. The Joker was standing there, waiting, poised between two cars, leaning against an SUV. He was not smiling. She shook her head, hot tears already gathering in the corners.
"No..." she whimpered, turning once she saw him take a step toward her. "No!"
Suddenly, she was running, sprinting toward the stairwell, his quiet yet audible footfall just behind her, gaining on her like a lion after his prey. The door swung inward with a rusty groan and Leila struggled to wrench it shut behind her, but the Joker was already there, holding it open with his hand, forcing it open so that it slammed with a bang against the wall behind it. A loud scream escaped her, echoing in the tall, enclosed concrete space, reverberating as though a thousand people had just mimicked her exact sound. Panting and crying, she managed to scramble up the first short flight of steps and onto the next, halfway between the ground level and the first floor before a pair of gloved hands were grabbing her waist and yanking her down painfully onto the concrete stairs. She flipped over onto her back, striking out with both fists, aiming to hit him wherever possible.
"Lay-luhhhh..." the Joker was growling as he breathed raggedly, giggling mirthlessly between his panting as he dropped to his knees on the step between her legs.
"No!" she cried, struggling with her back scraping painfully against the sharp edge of the stairs beneath her. "I'm sorry! Please!"
"What did I say would happen if you missed a call from me?" he asked, his voice completely barren of any playful clowniness, instead deep, demonic, echoing like the growl of a rabid dog in the stairwell. "Hm?" He shook her, having finally grabbed both of her flailing wrists and pinned them on either side of her shoulders.
Leila let out a sob, shaking her head frantically, taking deep breaths to try and explain herself. "Please, Joker, I didn't hear the phone! It was a major car accident and the sirens and-" she exhaled heavily, forcing her eyes open to look up at him where he loomed over her, attempting with every ounce of strength she had to calm down. Perhaps the less she struggled, the less he would attempt to subdue her. "Please..." she breathed. "You have to believe me. Joker...please..." She whimpered again, flinching as Joker grabbed a tight hold of her face in his gloved fingers, gripping her cheeks so tightly, she could practically feel them touching over the top of her tongue inside her mouth.
"It just so happens, I wasn't calling about anything serious," he growled. "You're still in the trial phase as far as I'm concerned, but trust me when I say, you are already on thin ice, Doc."
Leila nodded, opening her mouth wide and closing it again to stretch her jaw as he miraculously let go of her face before leaning back onto his knees.
"I swear I didn't hear it..." she moaned hoarsely, shaking her head as she too sat up. "I saw the missed-"
"Get up," he suddenly snapped, putting an instant end to her blabbering, standing from his position on his knees between her legs.
Leila blinked in confusion at his random, firm instruction but obeyed immediately, slowly rising to her feet from where she had previously been lying prone on her back against the stairs. Another whimper escaped her as Joker suddenly grabbed her arm, though instead of pulling her closer or smashing her into the wall as she was expecting, he merely turned her away from him with a rough jerk, bringing his opposite hand up to her shoulder, holding her steady. Leila closed her eyes, feeling her skin begin to crawl. Checking out her ass was one thing, but she at least wished he would attempt to be discreet about it. She could feel his eyes roving down her backside, though just as she was about to force herself away from him, he released her with a push.
"You should be more careful," he said, the mirth evident in his voice as he pointed down at the stairs where he had pinned her moments prior.
More confused than ever, she turned to take in the amusement in his eyes before following the line of his arm to the spot he had indicated. Much to her surprise, there was a dark, red stain along the cracked edge of the concrete stair where the small of her back had made contact a few seconds ago. Her jaw dropped open with the shock of seeing her own blood and she looked up at him, perhaps in a more accusatory way than she had intended.
In response, the Joker's eyebrows rose and he held up both of his gloved hands, smirking a very wily, amused grin. "Trust me, if I cut you, you'd know it."
Leila let out a humorless grunt of a laugh as she glanced back down at the smear. Somehow, she did not think there would ever be a circumstance or time in her life where she could "trust him", but she did not dare challenge his claim. Instead, she twisted one arm around to her back, sliding two of her fingers beneath the sticky edge of her white tank top where it had adhered to her skin by the warm fluid. Slowly, she managed to move aside the material to feel the stinging edges of a cut, and she groaned at the injury, bringing her hand back around to look down at the dark, red blood glistening on her fingers. The stairs didn't seem sharp enough to have cut into her so much, so there had to be another explanation for the injury. After a moment, it came to her.
"I forgot," she said with a tiny smile, relieved that she had actual, tangible proof of the reason she missed his call. "I scraped my back on the window of that guy's car when I was climbing in. I guess I cut myself worse than I thought." Leila shook her head, glancing up at him as he stood next to her, his eyes moving down to look at the shiny blood on her fingers. She hastily wiped them off on her pants. There was every chance the sight of blood excited him and she had no desire to provoke him further. "I'll uh-" she started, clearing her throat awkwardly, finding herself more and more anxious to get away from him. "I'll take care of it when I get upstairs."
She turned and without a glance back, hurriedly began climbing up the stairs in the hope that he had no more threats or business with her. However, to her huge disappointment, Joker seemed to have other ideas as his soft footsteps followed her, faint echoes in the stairwell. Leila felt a huge weight sink into her stomach. It had been a stupid, foolish hope of hers to assume he would let her simply walk away from her "mistake" without further repercussion. He had gotten distracted earlier by her injury, never finishing what he originally intended to do, whatever it may have been and now, there was no doubt he had some other punishment in store for her.
Her breathing increased, panic setting in, as she pictured various scenarios in her head, such as an incredibly realistic vision of him killing her in her apartment. This was not a likely situation since he had his chance and had chosen to let her go with a warning. The scene instead changed to the Joker cutting her, leaving her scarred, as a reminder to answer the phone. She already knew he wasn't above hurting the people who worked for him so it was a terrifying possibility. Perhaps he wanted the shelter of her apartment to hide the noise, her screams, not that her walls were soundproof by any means. Every step up increased her fear as her imagination took over with horrifying theories, images of what could possibly be waiting for her in her apartment. She could just imagine finding her mother, her father, Jay, Matt, even Murphy dead on the floor in her living room, collateral damage for her mistake. Tears threatened to form in her eyes at just the thought.
The only thing preventing her from slipping in to sheer paranoid hysteria was hope. Maybe he wanted another cookie, or to use the bathroom, or even the disgusting, but slightly more acceptable idea that he was planning to stay the night at her place. Actually, it did sound like something he might do; invite himself to sleep on her couch without so much as a question of whether that would be alright with her. At least, Leila hoped he would choose the couch.
But that line of thinking brought her to a sinister place, something she had only briefly considered in the darkest corners of her mind- rape. The word alone was ugly and bitter, evoking memories of the victims, the dazed women that had graced the ambulance and made her job emotionally difficult to the point of wanting to quit. Leila could remember their tears and shock, the way they shied away from Matt and Jay, jumping at the slightest touch, how some of them bore the marks of their attack with cuts and bruises, ligature marks around their necks or wrists. She knew all of them had the eerie knowledge hidden beneath the surface that they would live with that horror the rest of their lives. With the Joker stalking her every movement, she wondered if she would share the same fate and in a way, she would rather he kill her. At least then, it would be over.
Behind her, as she opened the door to her floor, she could hear the sound of his humming, off tune, as if he was deliberately trying to be creepy, and despite the previous noise in the stairwell, Leila had zero hope that a neighbor might step out and see her and the Joker. Even if someone did, they'd probably just walk away and pretend like nothing happened. In a city like Gotham, heroic actions got people killed, and to a certain degree, she felt could understand their hesitation, even if she didn't agree with it. And though her inner panic screamed at her to bang on someone's door, shouting for help, she understood all too well that the man behind her carried an entire stock of knives and would slit her throat within seconds of her attempt. No, she had to wait and see what he had in store for her.
At the door to her apartment, Leila reached into her pocket for her keys, but hesitated, turning her head to look up at Joker over her shoulder. She held out one, shaky hand toward the knob. "Would you like to do the honors?" she asked with a bit more sass than she had intended. "Seeing how you have your own key, and you apparently live here now?"
Joker shook his head, crossing his arms over his broad chest, grinning widely. "I never said I lived here," he countered. "I have my own house, remember?"
"I think you mean 'garage'," she grumbled, pushing her key into the lock and turning it, opening the door to reveal a starving Murphy sitting on the kitchen counter to the right.
Joker let out a grunt of a laugh as he stepped inside behind her. "A garage that I live in. Ergo...'house'." He paused in the doorway of the kitchen, a scowl marring his face as he watched Murphy come unglued at the sight of his owner. He was meowing loudly and arching his back, walking back and forth on the counter as Leila picked up his bowl from the floor. "What does it want?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes while she had her back turned to him. Her patience was waning. "He-" she began, tossing Joker a meaningful look as she knelt to scoop some dry food from the bag. "-is hungry." If she was going to die, at least she could be sure her cat was fed.
Behind her, Joker made a hissing noise like air being let out from a tire. "The last thing that cat needs is to eat," he growled, eyeing Murphy with distaste as the cat began munching the kibble. His eyes followed Leila as she squeezed past him into the hallway, heading into her bedroom.
For a moment, as she entered her bedroom, she felt the relief of being home. Even with him in the apartment, it somehow seemed safer surrounded by her personal effects, though that illusion didn't last long as the scent of gasoline hit her nostrils. She spun at the smell to watch the Joker enter her bedroom, his dark eyes roving over her like a predator, like she was prey to be devoured. She felt herself cower under his intense gaze.
"Sit down," he commanded abruptly, pointing a gloved finger at her bed. When she didn't move immediately, he reached out with his hands, gripping her upper arms in a tight, vice-like grip, steering her toward the bed. A whimper of fear escaped her as he pushed her onto it, her body automatically catching itself in a seated position. Leila swallowed hard as he bent at the waist to put himself at eye level with her. "Stay."
Leila decided there was absolutely no use in arguing with him. Whatever he planned to do, she would take it with dignity, despite his attempts to treat her like a dog. He would never hear her scream. The well-being of those she loved would ensure her cooperation and though terror threatened to explode her internally, she was determined to be strong. He would not break her. Fighting back the tears that once again wanted to gather, she stared defiantly back at his mocking expression.
Unexpectedly, the Joker stood and swept past the bed and went into the bathroom behind her, the door closing behind him. Though it was her chance to leave, to run, she knew it would be much worse if she did. He would find her, or worse, her parents or friends. So she stayed planted on the bed, listening to the sounds of rustling, of cabinet doors and drawers opening and closing, emanating from the bathroom. It sounded as if he was tearing the room apart, and maybe he was, but at that point, Leila cared very little. For now, the pain from the injury was setting in, causing it to sting and ache angrily, more like raw blisters than actual lacerations, running along the small of her back by several inches from where she had come in contact with not only the shattered window but also the sharp edge of the concrete stairs.
A minute or so later, the Joker emerged from the bathroom, his hands behind his back. Whatever he had been looking for was unknown and that raised her alert levels higher. She glared at him, knowing that he was using the uncertainty to scare her and she hated the fact that it was working to great effect. Leila turned her head to face the door again, not wanting him to see her fear, knowing how intoxicating he would find it. She would not give him the satisfaction. Though, it seemed he was determined to give her a terror-related heart attack, as she felt his weight settle onto the bed behind her, the warmth of his body closing in on hers. Her muscles tightened and she could feel minor tremors beginning within her.
As a finger touched her back, she bit her lower lip to hold back a scream. She would not scream, she swore to herself. His gloves had been discarded at some point and the warmth of his flesh against hers was almost too much to handle. Her eyes slid closed, wishing desperately she would wake from this nightmare soon, feeling his finger wiggle under the top of her shirt, yanking the cotton material away from the wound in her skin and causing her to wince in pain. He didn't care about her discomfort and she hated him for that.
He spoke, his voice lowered into that devilish octave. "Take off this shirt, or I will," he growled.
Her eyes widened in trepidation at those words, and she turned so quickly to look behind her that her ponytail whipped against the side of her face. "W-what do you mean?" she asked, searching his expression for any hint of a clue as to what his next action might be. The look in his eyes was as cold and unyielding as ever.
It happened within the blink of an eye. The freezing metal blade of a switch knife made brief contact with her back before it moved upward toward her shoulders, splitting the ruined tank top clean into two halves, which the Joker wasted no time in yanking roughly down her shoulders until it reached her elbows. Leila gasped loudly, her arms crossing against her chest to hold the remaining material in place. His purpose seemed clear and she felt a tear fall from one corner of her eye at what the future held in store for her.
Motions continued behind her back, but she didn't look, choosing to focus on the hallway outside her bedroom as she held the ruined fabric of her shirt over her breasts as a flimsy shield. Leila didn't want to know what hell he had planned for her and if she didn't look nor listen, she could pretend everything was fine, even if only for a moment.
"Hmm," Joker hummed in interest, dragging the blunt edge of the knife down along the ridges of her spine. "I haven't done this in a while."
Silence descended over them as Leila listened to the plastic of a bag rustling, the sound of liquid sloshing around in a bottle before a cold, wet pad of material met her skin, followed shortly by searing pain. Leila cried out instinctively as liquid dribbled down her back, slipping past the millimeter of space between her pants and skin, soaking into the top of her underwear.
"Is that alcohol?" she whimpered pathetically, fisting her hands around the fabric of her torn shirt.
"I can't have you calling in sick due to work-related injuries, Doc," he replied with a carelessly jovial tone, as if he hadn't spent the past few minutes terrorizing her, making her believe the worst. "I don't pay worker's comp."
She turned her head to look back at him, shock apparent on her face. He was cleaning her wound? At his side she could now see a box of gauze, a clear plastic bottle of rubbing alcohol, and bandages, clearly the spoils of his rummage through her bathroom. His eyes were focused on the small of her back, clinical and detached, and although she wasn't one hundred percent positive, she believed he had no other intentions. And like that, the stark terror began to ebb from her body. Perhaps his punishment was all psychological, but at the same time, she wouldn't drop her guard at all. He was still capable of using the knife sitting so temptingly close to his bent knee.
He continued his treatment of her back, onward and upward, slowly from side to side, slowly from top to bottom, pausing every other pass to wet a new piece of gauze. He was still using the alcohol, as Leila could smell it, could feel it stinging, though she was gradually growing accustomed to the pain. The soft gauze rubbed against the cuts and every now and again, his fingers would make direct contact with her skin, causing her to flinch, both out of fear and disgust. Fear that he still might take out a knife and begin to carve into her and disgust, as he was truly a wretched human being both in character and appearance. It was obvious that he had been wearing his vile greasepaint makeup all day and likely much of the one before it, as it had begun to fade and smear from his forehead down, the black spreading into the white and the red across his scars spread downward toward his jaw. The pads of his fingers were calloused and rough, grating across her sensitive skin like strips of sandpaper. She never imagined she would be half-naked in front of this man and the thought alone made her stomach queasy.
"Something's missing," he muttered, pausing in his ministrations to glide the bare tip of his finger down the length of her back, to the wound and back up again. Leila forced her eyes shut tighter, struggling to send her mind into a blank static, to block out the sensation of his arm snaking around her waist, tightening it's grip until he could tug her backwards, flush against his lap. A short gasp escaped her as the material of his vest scratched painfully against the raw wound on the small of her back.
She felt his hot breath first, crawling across her skin like a summer breeze that reeked of death, causing her chills to grow almost painful in their severity. Leila's insides were churning as that momentarily stayed panic began to well itself up inside of her again. She remained perfectly still, knowing whatever it was he was about to do, she would simply have to let him do it. It was immediately obvious to her that he enjoyed the struggle, took great pleasure in having to physically subdue his prey and she would be damned if she gave him the satisfaction of watching her squirm.
Leila jumped as something she had not felt until that point, something soft and warm, met the flesh along her spine, accompanying his heated breath. For only a second, she was granted a moment of clarity to wonder what fresh horror he was inflicting upon her, until the object moved again and she heard him exhale deeply, slowly from behind her; her tightly closed eyes popped open in shock. He was kissing her.
The new object against her back was his mouth, the surprising warmth emanating from his lips, the vague, residual stickiness from the red greasepaint lingering ever so slightly against her skin as he leaned away, only to move an inch or two higher. His lips returned yet again, pursed gently against her, and now that Leila was aware of what he was doing, she openly shuddered, gritting her teeth as she leaned forward a bit more. The grip of his arm around her tightened in accordance, insuring that she would stay in place. She had to let him continue, make whatever point he was attempting to make. Her head hung forward in resignation as she felt his lips move softly near the middle of her back.
His kisses were not exactly passionate, nor were they mere pecks, but rather firm yet tender, something she could never have foreseen from this man. He was the king of chaos and unpredictability, a nationally known criminal and yet here he was in her bedroom, sitting behind her, kissing her, only minutes after he had thrown her to the ground in a stairwell and attempted to kill her. Leila supposed this torture was all psychological and damn, it was working to great effect. She shut her eyes again, hoping it would be over soon and that it would not escalate.
Up her back, he continued, pausing in certain areas to pay more attention than others, his breath escaping through his nose in somewhat uneven bursts, an indication that his heart rate had quickened. Leila felt sick to think that he was deriving a twisted pleasure from this but again, she struggled to ignore him and the way her entire body had begun to shiver. He was nearing her shoulders. She could only pray that once he ran out of room on her back, he would be done. A deep, steadying breath traveled in through her nose and out through her mouth. He could not continue. Being raped was her worst fear and she could not let it happen to her, especially not by the foul man sitting behind her.
The grip around the curve of her waist tightened, his fingers curling, spider-like, around her hip, eluding to the fact that his opposite hand had moved, sliding up her arm to her shoulder, the rough callouses that lined his palm grating against her skin. Broken, dirty fingernails picked at the strap of her bra separating it from it's usual place so that the elastic band gave an ungraceful snap and slid down her arm to where the ruined tank top still remained. Leila forced herself not to let out a sob as she clutched her chest tightly. This was her worst nightmare made real, come to life in the one place she had formerly considered safe. He paused to purse his lips against the curve where her shoulder sloped gently toward her neck. She swallowed hard on a lump in the back of her throat, knowing that if he continued up her neck, she would be sick.
Yet again, he paused, though several seconds passed without another kiss, and Leila was just wondering what on earth he was waiting for, why he was not going on, when quite suddenly, his mouth was against her neck. His lips had parted and curled, his teeth bit firmly into her skin, and the noise that escaped Leila could not be described as quiet in any way. She yelped, rocking her head to the side and moving her hand to the top of his own where it remained curved around her waist. Her short, manicured fingernails dug into the skin there as tightly as she could manage, practically clawing him as he kissed her neck, gliding his tongue along the divots his teeth had created, soothing the reddened flesh there. He did not seem to notice her efforts to make him stop as his grip simply tightened.
On up her neck, he continued until Leila could feel the cool tip of his nose brush her ear lobe, and in a further attempt to cut him off, force him to lose access to that sensitive area, she leaned back against him, tilting her head back until her ponytail fell over his shoulder, turning her head toward his own neck. Tears were falling down along her cheeks with ease as the Joker let out a soft giggle, allowing his eyes to rove across the front of her partially exposed chest, which in the flow of events, she had completely forgotten was nearly visible. A moment later, Leila was emitting another hoarse, raspy cry as his opposite hand suddenly met her throat, his long fingers spanning easily from ear to ear. Her eyes flew open to find his black glare only inches from her own.
"You miss one more call from me and I swear to you, I will kill your entire family and everyone you love in the most slow, painful manner I can think of, kay?" he asked, his lips against her ear, his eyebrows raising as he nodded his head slowly, his tone one that a person would use to speak to someone of a lower mental caliber. When Leila simply blinked back at him, horrified, he tightened his grip, his teeth gnashing as he shook her roughly with his hand around her neck. "Say 'yes' if you heard what I said."
Her lips, tongue and throat all moved immediately to form the word, though no sound managed to escape her lungs, her fear only allowing a strained, whispered "Y-yes..." to be spoken. This, it appeared, was enough for the Joker. Though just when she expected him to stand up and disappear through the front door as he had done the previous day, her entire upper body was pushed forward, bent so far that she could rest her chin on her knees. His large hand came down against the cuts on her back with a resounding slap, the snap of the sharp contact echoing in her bedroom like the crack of a whip, forcing her to let out a strained sob. It took a moment for her to recognize the sensation of a large rectangular bandage between his fingers and her bleeding skin, followed by his knuckles digging in to roughly smooth the adhesive. The pain was momentary before the pressure against her back lifted, the weight on the bed behind her was gone and the Joker was walking out of her room, without another word, without so much as a glance back at her.
As she sat there, stunned, listening to the sound of the front door opening, then closing again, terror slowly began to leave her body and the blank, horrified numbness in her brain was fading. Finally, she had the chance to think clearly at long last. Her heart was still pounding as she counted to fifteen, giving the monster on the other side of the door a few moments to walk away before she suddenly leaped from the bed and ran to the front door, fumbling with trembling hands to lock the deadbolt.
The heavy metal bar slid into place with a satisfying but not entirely comforting thud, leaving Leila completely alone in her apartment, turning from the door to sigh heavily as she placed her bare back against it. Ignoring the pain of her bandaged wound, she slid to the floor, her knees buckling on their own accord. With her head against the door behind her, she sighed, staring at the carpet before her with foggy, unfocused eyes, thinking back to what had happened in her bedroom just moments ago.
It had been sickening, torturous and confusing, every action, every touch of his lips against her back reminding her what power he held over her, the power to take her life or simply to ruin it by raping her. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he understood what her fear was and it was obvious he had exploited that, even enjoyed it, the thumping of her heart pounding out a rhythm of 'what if...what if...what if...' And yet he had cleaned her wound, dressed it, kissed her back and neck, in motions that almost could have been mistaken as gentle, caring, though Leila was not fool enough to believe the Joker felt any semblance of compassion toward her. True, he had 'kissed it and made it better', just as her mother and father had done many years ago but as she sat there, mulling through his possible reasoning, she stopped herself short. He was the Joker; there didn't need to be a reason why.
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A/N: My lovelies! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as we got our first little 'taste' of fun stuff to come. Just a reminder to everyone reading that I am on facebook, (Haven QueenofMean Hunter) if you are interested in seeing pictures of my characters from this story, updates on the chapter postings as well as the song playlist for this story. Each chapter has it's own song that accompanies it! As for this one, the song was Blood, Milk and Sky by White Zombie. Again, thanks to Auriellis for all her typo-catching, comma-wrangling and general help with this chapter! Until next time, kiddos! -QoM