A/N: Sorry for the short length of this chapter! I'm absolutely exhausted after a long day of school-related things. "Why write it now, then?" you ask. Read it. I had to get this out!
As Joker had predicted, Abigail was bombarded with reporters on her way into the museum building the following day. Word had gotten around Gotham quick that she'd saved Commissioner Gordon's life. If she hadn't been so brave, he might've been killed at the hands of the Joker, the psychopath that had most of Gotham's lower criminals in the palm of his hand. Instead of politely denying any interviews as she ascended the stone steps to her workplace, she turned around and looked directly into the closest camera.
"Well? Do you have any questions for me?" She beamed a smile at the reporter, who went blank from the shock of actually having Abigail pay attention to her. No one had expected compliance. No one ever complied, especially not to them. "Yes, I saved Commissioner Gordon's life. I'm not ashamed to be proud of that. It was my way to give back to Gotham City." She gave the cameras around her another charming smile. "He still hasn't thanked me properly for it."
"Where did all of this go down?"
"Some sources say that you saved his wife, as well?"
"Do you have any idea as to the location of Harvey Dent?"
Abigail laughed, shaking her head. "So many questions! I'll answer them one by one. First, it 'went down' at an undisclosed location. Second, yes, I did. She hasn't thanked me either. Third, no, I don't. I had no idea that he was even missing." She had no trouble lying to the reporters, especially not since the happenings of the previous night. It still felt as though her heart couldn't catch up to her. When she thought of him, all she could hear was him asking for his wife.
A male reporter from some distance waved a hand in the air. She pointed at him, and he grinned. "Thank you! Uhm, I was wondering as to the real reason you saved his life. There are some rumors around that you are interested in him."
"Interested in him?" Abigail asked, stung though she would not show it on the camera. "That's just silly. Of course I'm not. I only have one love, and that's art. Which leads me to my own personal reason for agreeing to talk to you all." She looked directly into the camera that was emblazoned with stickers from Gotham's most watched news station. "I'd like to invite all of you out to a fundraiser that will be going on a week from today. We're in desperate need of funds, and it's up to you, people of Gotham, to keep this place up and running!" She flashed a pleading look at the camera before giving a light-hearted laugh. "Be a hero!"
With that, she turned around and hopped up the last few steps. Before she was able to duck into the building, however, she saw her only superior walk out. She stopped in cold blood, her eyes wide. She had caused quite a ruckus. From the look on his face, she could tell that he was not pleased with her. However, when he realized that the cameras were still rolling, his face melted into a comfortable expression. "Come on, let's go talk to them some more." He curled his arm around her shoulders and led her back from where they'd come. "We can say something about the fundraiser."
"I already did -"
"Well, we can say more about the fundraiser," he pressed with a reassuring smile before waving hello to the reporters still standing on the steps. Before anyone was ready, he launched into a speech. "We at the Gotham Museum of Art are proud to have a woman such as this on our staff. She is the truthful everyday hero that we have long waited for, someone that doesn't wear a mask. The fundraiser will now be held in her honor, all money raised going to her future here at the Gotham Museum of Art."
Her cheeks flushed immediately. "What he means is that all of the money will go to my doing my job," she giggled, "which is buying more art. So, in truth, he's just stamping my name on this for the attention."
Her boss shook his head, laughing. "Perhaps, but is that a crime? I really don't think so."
On the other side of town, Christine leaned against a counter, watching as the person behind it rang up the price for a hotel room. She couldn't go back to her apartment at Villiers', not with J, and he refused to let her be rid of him. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him staring up at one of the poorly copied prints on the wall.
"That'll be fift-," the cashier muttered in a monotone voice.
"Just put it on here," she said offhandedly, sliding her card across the desk as she watched him change direction and set his sights on the mirror across from the print. "J, what are you doing?"
He looked at her over the collar of his overcoat. She'd given strict orders to keep his features obscured, since his face was easily noticed, especially in this part of town. "Just looking around," he assured her with a yawn. It had been days since he'd last slept, and while he was tired, there was something else on his mind. Rest would have to wait. The cashier thanked Christine and handed her the key to their room.
The room was precisely what they'd paid for. There was a bed on one side and a door to a small bathroom on the other. The comforter was worn, and the lamp beside the bed fizzled in and out every so often. Sliding out of her jacket, she let it fall onto the floor. "It's not much, but it's a bed. I could sleep on just about anything right now," she laughed, collapsing onto the bed. It gave an annoyed squeak at her weight.
"I'm not really tired," he muttered, crossing the floor and leaning into the bathroom to inspect it. "This hotel really isn't that great, is it?"
Christine turned over onto her back, tucking her arms behind her head. "For fifty dollars, what did you expect? A room at Villiers'?" Joker smirked, tugging his arms out of his overcoat and draping it across the single chair. She sighed, her eyes combing over his arms and wide shoulders. When he realized she was staring at him with a less than chaste look in her eyes, his smile widened into a wolfish grin. "Come here."
He listened to her for once, moving to the foot of the bed and crawling on beside her. Placing a tiny, teasing kiss on her lips, his hands moved down her pale throat to her chest, fingering the plastic buttons on her blouse. "You're not afraid of me anymore," he concluded, looking into her eyes as he began to slip the buttons from their holes. "I think I prefer this." He curled a powerful thigh around hers, pulling her closer to him as he slipped her shirt from her pliant frame.
She stared up at him, a nearly overwhelmed smile on her face. He had removed all of his makeup in an attempt to feign normality when getting the room. "And I prefer you like this," she whispered, her voice thick. His hair hung in strings around his face. She ran her fingers through it. "But, you're right. I'm not afraid of you anymore."
His reply was a searing kiss, shockingly unlike the one they'd shared in the car. While this one held the same passion, there was a sureness in it that caused her to melt into him, a confidence. His cool fingers slipped beneath the taut underwire of her bra, curling up around her breast, digging his short nails into the skin. Christine gasped through his kiss, and he silenced her by darting his tongue into her mouth, twisting it around hers.
They fought each other for power over the other, rolling on top of the other and wrestling to get each other's clothes off. The moment she bent to bite the delicate skin on his neck, he rolled her over, pinning her arms over her head. When he let them go in an attempt to unbutton her pants, she curled her legs around his middle, rolling him over onto his back. His vest proved difficult to remove, as did her bra, especially with her constant moving. Eventually, though, they collapsed onto the pillows, their only attire a thin layer of perspiration.
Finally, Christine gave into him, watching with vision blurred with fatigue and desire as he hovered above her. She had not expected delicacy from him. She had expected nothing but pleasure mixed disturbingly with pain. He did not disappoint. Knocking her knees apart with a sure sweep of his fist, he plunged into her in one great thrust, knocking her back against the headboard. Her hands flew up to grasp it, ignoring the slight pain that shot through the back of her head.
All the same, her skin flushed and her back arched with pleasure. She had not experienced this rawness with Harvey, this confusion that lead to rabidness. Joker responded to her, moved with her and not against her. She knew that it was improbable, but she felt that he cared for her enjoyment. This was not for him; this was for both of them. She felt her eyes roll back into her head as he his snaked around her back, pulling her even closer against him.
He buried his face in her hair, pushing into her as far as he could go, his entire body shuddering at the feeling of being completely within her. He felt that there was something he should say, but knew that his words would ruin the feeling that he just knew she felt. Instead, he found himself abandoning the physically straining deep strokes. As he neared his climax, he knew that she was, as well. Her entire body tensed, as did his, and he dove in for another bruising kiss as her hips bucked upwards. He emptied himself within her, collapsing just beside her, rolling her onto her side, melding their bodies together.
They lay in that position for what felt like forever. He watched as she drifted into a sleep, his own eyes heavy while his mind raced. There were things he had to do. He couldn't stay here with her. Removing himself, he pulled the comforter up over her and stood, pulling on each article of clothing before leaving her alone in the hotel room.
When Harvey finally came to, he found that he couldn't see. He shouted, but heard that his voice was muffled. There was something pulled over his head. The back of his skull ached, and he could hardly remember what had happened. All he recalled was the Joker. He remembered his laugh and his henchmen, and he remembered what had happened before he'd gotten the call from Gordon. He'd asked Christine to be his wife. His blood ran cold as he took a deep breath. The first scent he noticed was gasoline. The first sensation below his neck that he noticed was the fact that his wrists were tied behind him.
"Is anyone there? Joker?" he called to anyone that could hear. "JOKER!"
From behind him, there was a shrill laugh. He noticed it immediately, twisting his wrists in an attempt to free himself. "That's very futile, Dent," he said in a condescending voice before ripping the mask from his face. Harvey glared up at him, his blue eyes piercing. When the Joker next spoke, his tone was menacing. "No need to be angry. I'm just here to do a little arts and crafts."
"What do you mean by that?" Harvey asked, a taste of fear in his speech. "What are you going to do to me? Are you going to scar me up like you? Are you going to make me a monster?"
Joker leaned down so that his face was just in front of Harvey's. "You're not very tactful, Harvey. I'm the one with the power here. It's just not smart to offend a man like me when you're all tied up and helpless." He ruffled Harvey's hair and backed up, turning to the small red container at his side. "You see, Harvey, this is gasoline. You probably already knew that."
"Of course I did," Harvey spat, his brows knitted.
"Easy, easy," Joker warned, twisting off the cap and lifting it to Harvey's nose. "Come on. Don't you wanna make sure?"
Harvey sneered at him, and Joker shrugged, digging what looked like a paintbrush out of the pocket of his overcoat. "Fine, be like that. You don't need to talk, so long as you listen." He pulled up a stool and sat right beside Harvey, dipping the paintbrush into the gasoline. "You know where I was just now? If the gasoline wasn't so strong, I'm sure you could tell." Leaning close to him, he passed the brush across one half of his forehead. Harvey cringed. "I probably smell like her perfume."
"You bastard," Harvey hissed, jerking his chair upwards and hoping that he'd be able to free himself. The gasoline had begun to drip down from his forehead, over his brow and down to his eye. The intense burning sensation caused Harvey to gag, his body convulsing in pain.
"Again, do I have to remind you who you shouldn't offend in this situation?" Joker smiled, dipping the paintbrush again. "Anyway, I just thought you should know. She couldn't keep her hands off of me. I thought he'd rip my pants right off." He sighed. The paintbrush dripped gasoline over Harvey's sculpted cheekbone. "I like that in a woman."
One eye shut, Harvey still found himself able to glare at him. "Why are you doing this?"
"Honestly?" Joker redistributed his weight on the stool, leaning one forearm against his knee. "I'm getting rid of the competition."
"You can't do anything to me that will get rid of her feelings. Physical deformities clearly mean nothing to her if she's fucked you," he growled, shoving his chest forward and jerking his wrists around. "You're pathetic, you know that, right? You're going to kill me because you can't handle the pressure."
Joker shook his head, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "But I'm not going to kill you." He motioned upwards, "There's a water spout just above your head. The second the smoke reaches it, it'll go off. Not only will the water get rid of the flames, but it'll alert the fire station. You'll be saved in no time. Your face, however…"
Just as he finished coating one half of Harvey's face, there was a sound outside, something that sounded a lot like a car pulling up outside of the building. Joker cursed under his breath, kicking back the stool and searching with shaking fingers for the pack of matches. When he found them, he tilted his head to the side, examining the district attorney. "You're stuck, Dent. You can't be Gotham City's unblemished face of justice anymore. Not only that, but Christine won't be able to stand the sight of you. How does that feel?"
Harvey took a deep breath, his eyes holding Joker's with unexpected calm. "It feels great knowing that Christine will find out that her lover set fire to another man. Do you think she'll still love you after that? Do you?"
Joker bit absently on his lip as he struck a match. "Actually," he laughed, "I do." With that, he pressed the flame to Harvey's cheek. The skin began to burn immediately, filling the dark room with light.
Before he left, he stood in the doorway that he'd entered in, and listened with perverse enjoyment as Harvey screamed.