Chapter 11

The streets of Gotham were almost terrifying as I drove down them, this being my first time driving in almost three weeks, not to mention, at night (which had come to mean different things to me than it had before). And yet, that wasn't what truly terrified me. What frightened me the most, heightened my senses and made me react to almost everything, was knowing that I was participating in a murdering plot. Unlike with Lieutenant Green's assassination, I wasn't just a helpless on-looker of the petrifying scene before me. Whether or not I took part in any other aspect of this murder, I had already helped set it up; thus having casted myself in the unwanted roles of both actress and bait. I shook with remorse, fear, and guilt; but, if I could, I had to get Peter to leave the city.

My heart beat at an incredible pace, drawing my attention to the cause of my dread. I had no idea how The Joker would react to my trying to help Peter. Would he kill me? Something in me doubted that he would, yet at the same time feared what he would do if he let me live. It was almost ironic that I had been given a much wanted moment alone, and the only possible way I could spend it worrying about the consequences of what I was about to do.

I steered my car through the busy downtown streets, taking a turn to avoid the traffic, turning onto a road that would take me uptown. I drove past a row of expensive townhouses, in search of only one. Several cars were parked along the street side. Mine joined them as I parallel parked, turning the keys and stopping my car. I exhaled loudly, resting my head against the steering wheel. My blood had run cold minutes ago, and my mind now carried the weight of indecision. Should I even have been here? If I wanted, I could've left, gone away and even have taken Bruce with me. I could have told him everything, and he would have known what to say to set me at ease.

But some strange, twisted part of me refused to do that. It told me that I couldn't leave, that I would hate every moment of my self-inflicted exile from Gotham. I was almost horrified at this strange side of me, but my logical side jumped in, reminding me that if I left Gotham now, it would only be worse for me later. I knew that no matter where I escaped to, I couldn't leave Gotham behind forever; and, regardless of where I went, The Joker could always find me, if indeed he wanted to.

Resigning myself to my task, I removed my head from the steering wheel, stepping out of the car and locking it. I stuffed the keys into my pocket, wondering how I would look to any random person who saw me, as my purple shirt was stained with last night's blood and my eyes were wild with hundreds of different emotions and thoughts.

I walked up to the steps of a townhouse, knocking on the door. I waited several moments before I squeezed my eyes shut, biting my lip as I reached into my pocket. I opened my eyes, fumbling around for the key to Peter's house. I flipped through the ring of keys, but found nothing. Of course not. It was gone, and it was obvious (painfully so) who had taken it.

Again, I knocked at the door, this time furiously. It took mere seconds for the door to swing open, revealing what appeared to be a vapid, eighteen-year-old woman with obviously dyed platinum blonde hair. Why did this not surprise me? Sure, Peter and I had broken up, but how many women could fall for this one man without caring about his duplicity?

"Addison Way-" The girl began in a questioning voice, a French accent clear in her voice. But I brushed past her, not waiting for her to finish.

"Who is it, Marguerite?" I heard Peter's voice coming from his living room. I turned several corners, entering the room. I heard Peter give an annoyed sigh. "What do yo-" He cut off, his eyes widening at the sight of me. Marguerite stood next to me, a frown on her face.

"Peter," She started, walking towards him. He raised a hand, and she froze.

"Leave, Marguerite." He ordered. She gave me a venomous glare before turning and running out of the room. I heard the front door slam shut, leaving Peter and I alone. Within seconds I felt Peter's arms around my waist, attempting to pull me into an embrace. I retaliated, pushing his body away from mine. Peter's expression grew confused.

"That's not what I'm here for, Peter." I hissed, backing away several inches.

"Then what are you here for?" He questioned, beginning to study me. His eyes widened as his gaze dropped to my torso. "Addie, you've got blood all over your shirt."

"I know that."

"But why?"

I gave a hurried sigh, shaking my head at him. "That's not important. What is important is your life, Peter." I told him. Immediately, he burst out in laughter. The sound of his laughter, of anyone's laughter other than The Joker's, had become almost foreign to me.

"You're not here to talk to me about the whole 'Joker trying to kill me' thing, are you?" He asked, his laughter continuing.

"Yes, I am," I retorted, grabbing his face in my hand, making him look directly at me. "Peter, this isn't a joke to you like it is to him." I emphasized, releasing his face,

"He only kills people involved with law enforcement." Peter said matter-of-factually.

"But you don't know him, Peter!" I declared loudly. Again, I heard his laughter.

"And you do?"

"Yes, I do." I informed him. My mind screamed at me for revealing that I knew The Joker, saying that Peter could use it against me, perhaps even inform the police. But I didn't care right now. If it was what I had to do to get Peter out of Gotham, then, due to my guilt, it had to be done.

"Addie, have you gone crazy?" Peter asked, disbelief on his face. "I'm fine, no one would try to ki-"

I lost my patience, slapping him hard across the face. "Peter, you need to leave Gotham if you're going to live!" I spat. "And I'm risking my ass to try and save you!"

For a moment, he was quiet. Then, I heard him sigh. "You know, you're acting just like Commissioner Gordon."

I gave a cry of frustration at that, my hand colliding with his face again. "Why won't you believe me, Peter?" I questioned angrily. "The Joker will kill you!

"I want to know why you're here telling me this and not the police!" Peter barked, gesturing towards me.

"The Joker wanted me to make sure you understood that you're not safe here!" I snarled. "I didn't have to tell you to leave, Peter. After all you've done to me, you're damn lucky that I'm even trying to help you!"

"Where did the blood on your shirt come from?" He questioned, ignoring me. I exhaled loudly, ripping a bandage off of one of the cuts on my neck.

"This," I said wildly, allowing him to gaze at the cut. I pointed to the other one, leaving the bandage on. "And this. From The Joker." I told him. His eyes widened. He stepped forward, reaching his hand out, possibly to touch the wound. I slapped his hand away, placing the bandage back on the gash.

"And he did that to you?" Peter asked quietly, his eyes not moving from the bandages.

"Would I do this to myself?" I yelled, grabbing Peter by the shirt. "Get. Out. Now." I growled between clenched teeth.

"Addie," Peter began, aggravated, though his voice wavered. "The Joker's not here, and he's not going to be here."

"That's where you're wrong, Petey." I heard a voice from behind me. I looked first to Peter's face; his expression now changed to one of disbelieving terror. I felt a hand on my neck, pulling me backwards until I was standing directly next to him; The Joker.

The Joker unclasped his hand from my neck, offering a sardonic grin. I heard Peter breathe: "Oh my god."

"Nice to meet you." The Joker greeted, offering his hand. Peter stared at it stupidly, backing away. "No?" The Joker asked, stepping forward. "You know," He began, flicking his tongue across his lips. "I really was trying to play it fair this time."

"W-What?" Peter questioned, his voice breaking. The Joker reached back, his hand grabbing my wrist.

"Come on." He hissed, pulling me forward. I felt the barrel of a gun press against my temple, causing me to shut my eyes and swallow hard. The gun was cold against my skin, and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, but I wasn't as afraid as any normal person would've been. The Joker and I had played this game too many times for me to believe he would kill me. Now, at least.

At last, I opened my eyes. Peter stood, cowering, his eyes darting from me to The Joker. "I sent Addie here to make sure you understood what was gonna happen." He informed Peter, pulling the gun away from my head. "But you just couldn't believe her, could you?" He questioned, disapproval on his face. "I didn't think you were that narcissistic."

"It didn't make sense!" Peter cried, sweat coating his skin. "I didn't think Addie would've known you!"

The Joker gave a loud, scornful laugh. I watched, nervous and shameful, as the two of them conversed. His laughter finally stopped, leaving him gasping for air. He caught his breath before speaking again.

"You know, Petey," He started, pointing at me. "It's no wonder you didn't want to lose her. She's a feisty little doll, isn't she?" He raised his eyebrows, emphasizing his words. Peter looked to me, his eyes narrowed with hurt and confusion.

"What do you mean?" He asked stupidly. I heard The Joker sigh.

"It means that Addie and I are involved." He said, drawing out the last word. I felt my body tense at his words. His implication was horrific, and yet I was unafraid; tensing only at the sight of Peter and his shock at the statement.

"Since when?" I questioned in a growl.

"Second date, fifth date; doesn't matter. How many have we been on?" He inquired, looking to me for an answer. I bit my cheek, saying nothing. He waved a hand dismissively. "They're all the same." He concluded, taking a slow step forward. Peter moved backwards, tripping over his own feet. The Joker gave a laugh, cocking the pistol and firing a shot into Peter's leg, immobilizing him. I let out a loud gasp, falling to the floor with my hand over my mouth. Peter gave a cry of agony, falling into a chair. "That's ok," The Joker said, a mockingly sympathetic look on his face. "You can take a seat."

Watching the two of them interact had caused me to lose control on all of my thoughts. My mind shrieked at me, begging me to stand, to help Peter; not because of any emotional attachment, but because it was moral, right. And yet it took everything I had within me to stand from my place on the floor and propel myself forward, just as The Joker drew out his knife.

"You can't!" I spat, my hand clenching onto his wrist. My strength was lacking compared to his, but it was enough to hold his arm in place.

The Joker chuckled as he questioned me: "Why does it matter to you?"

"Because it's what right!" I cried. His eyes met mine, his gaze filled with contradiction.

"Addie," He began, his voice sneering. "You don't care about what's right. If you did, you wouldn't have cooperated so well with all of my… plans, huh?" He enlightened me. My grip loosened, and I fell, roughly, to the ground. I pulled legs to my chest, drawing myself away from the truth. The Joker was right. I had been living with no rules but my own, no consideration for others; nothing but what I had subconsciously deemed important and acceptable.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" I heard The Joker ask. I squeezed my eyes shut as he began to tell Peter about how his drunkard of a father had given him the Glasgow smile that spread across his face. My eyes opened as he finished his story; not knowing if Peter was still alive or not. He was. His eyes were wider than I'd ever seen them, and The Joker's switchblade was against the edge of his lips. "Why so serious?" The Joker asked him, a loud, chilling laugh following the question. I looked away as Peter gave his first shriek of pain; The Joker had begun his work.

Hearing Peter's screams and pleas was a far cry from Lieutenant Green's silent acceptance, and not one that made watching a murder any easier. My eyes were wet with unspilled tears, blessedly distorting my vision and burning my eyes so the scene before me grew hazy; dreamlike.

At last, Peter uttered a final cry, his breathing heavy and slow. "Now you'll always be smiling." The Joker said with a grin. Within seconds, I saw the blade plunging into Peter's chest, claiming his life without any intention of giving it back.

Silence filled the room as The Joker smeared the blood from his knife into his hair. I gripped the edge of a coffee table, heaving myself upwards with any energy I had left. The Joker's attention flashed to me as soon as I was on my feet. I stood my ground as he approached me, knife still in his hand.

"We need to have a little chat, Addie." He informed me, grabbing my arm. I struggled to free myself, needing nothing more than a moment of thought; some time to remove myself from the crazed state of mind that I was in. But I didn't have the will to escape as The Joker dragged me from Peter's house, shoving me into the backseat of my car and pulling the keys from my pocket. It was only as he had begun to drive that my body grew numb, allowing the tears to flow freely from my eyes; not because of the loss of a person that I had been close to, but at the realization of what I was becoming; what I could hardly stop myself from becoming. And now it was too late to turn back.

There. It's up, just like I promised. The next few chapters are underway, and the next one should be up at some point tomorrow.

Reviews are always nice! Good, bad, I don't care. Any form of feedback is a good thing.

-HarlequinEnigma