It's Friday once more. It's longer, not much going on, but... we finally get to see him next chapter :3

Thank you to reviewers, hope you like this chapter and it lives up to your expectations. Hope you can give me your opinion on how we're following Bruce and not Ella for the moment :)

Quotes are from Wake Up by EDEN. (Totally recommend him, by the way!3)

Without further ado, enjoy!

"And I remember how I spent the 23rd feeling six feet under."

Chapter 12: Descent

There was a moment where everything seemed to freeze around me—where no one moved a muscle—, before time sped up again and everyone automatically stepped back from the advancing terrorists. The Joker and his men walked into the ballroom, sizing everyone up and pointing their weapons at everybody.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," the Joker's deep voice greeted. He walked around the room through the crowd, causing all the guests to congregate together like a flock of sheep, including me. I kept taking slow steps back—almost as if any sudden movement would end badly—trying to blend into the crowd. But of course, no one was letting me get any further than the edge, leaving me front-seat to the violence that was bound to happen.

"We are… tonight's entertainment," the Joker announced, chewing some snack from the refreshments table. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I briefly wondered Where is Bruce? before I remembered I shouldn't worry about him. He was probably already in his batsuit. "I only have one question: Where is Harvey Dent?"

Bruce's words earlier that evening echoed in my head—Harvey Dent, the man of the hour—and the irony was not lost on me. The Joker walked around the guests, taunting and terrorizing them as usual, coming closer to where I stood. With every word he spoke, I realized how much of a sarcastic bastard he really was.

"Y'know, I'll settle for his loved ones."

"We're not intimidated by thugs," Anthony Bellmont, the gentleman I'd been talking to earlier, retorted. I held my breath, not knowing what to expect from the clown, but his facial expression said it all.

"You know… you remind me of my father," he replied calmly. "I hated my father!"

Talk about daddy issues.

The Joker held his knife to Mr. Bellmont's mouth, as if threatening to give him scars to match his own.

"Okay, stop."

My head whipped around at the sound of Rachel's voice so close to me. She was walking toward me, approximately a foot to my left, her voice confident and decisive but her posture when she stood beside me gave away her nervousness. Everyone around us continued to step back away from her now that the Joker's attention was on her, but I remained where I was.

"Rache," I muttered, and she startled as she recognized me. "I don't think this is a good idea."

Rachel didn't get a chance to reply, as the Joker began advancing towards us, saying, "Well, hello, beautiful. You must be Harvey's squeeze. Mhm?"

I tried to stand my ground but his attention was solely on Rachel. He didn't even spare me a second glance, which made me think that if I didn't back away right that instant, I was about to become a casualty.

"And you are beautiful."

Rachel couldn't seem to find her voice as the Joker approached like a lion stalking its' prey. I took a couple of steps back, just out of reach of Rachel, as the made-up villain began circling her, making Rache flinch as she struggled to keep him in her sights. I was still standing close to the both of them, but he appeared not to even notice me.

"Oh, you look nervous. Is it the scars?" he said, sounding concerned as though talking to a child. I remained silent, unwilling to draw his attention to me, not even by moving away. "Wanna know how I got 'em?"

Holding Rachel's head in his hands with his blade near her face, he began to tell the tale.

"See, I had a wife- beautiful, like you—who tells me that I worry too much, who tells me that I ought to smile more, who gambles and gets in deep with the sharks. One day, they carve her face. We have no money for surgeries. She can't take it. I just want to see her smile again, hmm? I just want her to know that I don't care about the scars. So... I stick a razor in my mouth and do this... to myself. And you know what? She can't stand the sight of me! She leaves. Now, I see the funny side… Now, I'm always smiling..."

I couldn't help but wonder if the story was true as Rachel kneed the Joker in the stomach, making him groan and step back. I felt like she might have been going for his crotch but missed. The Joker snickered.

"A little fight in you," he sneered, just as a hand on my arm startled me. Turning to my left, I realized it was Bruce as Batman pulling me away from the danger zone. "I like that."

Standing where I had previously been standing, Batman rasped out, "Then, you're gonna love me."

Rachel and I instinctively reached for each other, holding hands, when Batman began to fight off the Joker and his men. Everything was happening so fast, I wasn't completely sure what was going on. The Joker wasn't even fighting Batman, instead sending his men to do the dirty work. I couldn't even find him in the chaos.

Then, I felt Rachel's hand jerk away from mine. I instinctively tried to tighten my grip but both of our hands were sweaty. Looking her way, I realized the Joker was trying to pull her towards him with a gun in his other hand.

"No!" I exclaimed, lunging and latching onto her hand again. The Joker faltered as he saw me, his brow furrowing as though he was seeing me for the first time and trying to recognize me. He hesitated for a long moment, his eyes roving my entire face, before turning back toward Rachel. He yanked on her one last time and I fell forward on my knees trying to keep my hold on her.

Suddenly, the click from the safety being taken off sounded and there was silence. Nobody moved.

"Drop the gun," Batman instructed, as I slowly picked myself up off the floor.

"Oh, sure," the Joker sighed. "You just take off your little mask and show us all who you really are. Mhmm?"

He snickered as he pointed behind him and the shot the glass wall into pieces, holding Rachel over the open space only by her arm.

"Let her go," Batman stated, making me cringe internally.

"Very poor choice of words," the Joker cackled as he literally let go of Rachel's arm. Batman immediately threw himself after her, and a moment later, her scream of absolute terror sounded in the silence of the room.

Nobody dared move or say a word still, except for the Joker's men who were picking themselves up off the floor. My heart pounded in my chest and throat as the Joker turned to look at me, walking slowly, eyeing me from head to toe.

"And you—" he said as he stood in front of me, placing one gloved hand on the curve where my shoulder met my neck, "—you beautiful, gorgeous, little thing—are coming with me."

Panic kicked in and I made a run for it—part of me knowing it was hopeless—, the Joker's hand tightening on me before losing his grip. His men immediately blocked my path and I knew no one at that party would help me.

I turned back toward the Joker, who was walking towards me again. He stopped right in front of me and placed his hand on my neck, his thumb gently adding more and more pressure on my esophagus. I refused to make a noise and merely held my breath.

The Joker grinned and gestured with his head to one of his men behind me. Suddenly, I was being dragged away with an arm around my chest and a gun pointed at my neck.

"What are you most afraid of?"

"Not living," Ella replied without a moment of hesitation. Bruce continued to stare at her in slight confusion. "You know what I mean, right?"

Since Bruce knew Ella well, he could deduce what she meant, but he wanted her to elaborate. She probably meant how she wanted to enjoy her life always.

"Kind of, but…" Bruce trailed off and Ella grinned. They were laying on their bed together, the only light in the room from Downtown Gotham shining through the glass window and the tv playing some sort of suspense movie.

"I just—you know how I am, Bruce. I just don't want to look back on my life and think 'There was so much more I could've done' or 'I never enjoyed the little moments, never lived my life the way I wanted to.' Or even living a lie, where I'm obliviously happy and it turns out things aren't as they seem," she said as she stared blankly at the screen. "That's why I never pay attention to the things they say about me or to me. At the end of the day, I've learned to look out only for myself, as selfish as that sounds. Nobody else is gonna do that for me."

"You look out for me," Bruce reminded her, tilting Ella's face to look up at him. Ella bit back her grin.

"You're my boyfriend," she easily dismissed. Bruce grinned as he shook his head lightly and leaned down to peck her lips.

"So, as long as I'm your boyfriend you'll look out for me?"

"I'll always look out for you, Bruce. I've been with you for three years now. It's a little difficult to stop caring about someone you shared so much with… as long as you don't fuck up, obviously."

Bruce chuckled and hugged her closer into his side.

When Bruce managed to get off the Batsuit and arrive back at the penthouse, the only thing waiting for him was Jim Gordon and his bad news. He didn't know what to think, at first, as the lieutenant made his way toward him. After all, Rachel was safe and he had expressly made sure Harvey Dent was unharmed.

"Mr. Wayne," Jim Gordon said, looking extremely nervous. Obviously, they knew each other somewhat—aside from Batman—thanks to Rachel and Daniela, who were both friendly with him from some legal ventures. "We need to talk."

Bruce hid his sudden bout of anxiety and nodded, leading Jim to his office in the penthouse. Once the door was shut, Bruce and Gordon both sat down without saying a word. Something in the atmosphere made them remain quiet, as though the news would be worse if the silence was interrupted.

Gordon took a deep breath.

"Daniela—"

Bruce's breath got caught in his throat. Immediately, his last image of Ella popped into his mind, her full burgundy-painted lips trembling as her large, large dark eyes stared at the moon. His heart stopped beating for a moment before resuming with a fervor, Ella's picture-perfect image in his mind replaced with one of her face covered in white makeup, black-covered eyes closed and mouth shaped in grotesque red.

"He took her," Gordon finally finished, leaning his elbows on the desk to cover his face with a sigh. She was his friend, after all. "The Joker took her."

Bruce froze for a moment before an immediate, indescribable rage bloomed within him.

"That bastard!" Bruce bellowed, standing from his chair and sweeping a glass on the desk to the floor. It shattered as Gordon merely leaned back into his chair. It was a long night. "What the hell does he want with her?"

"I don't know, Wayne," he sighed. "Ransom, maybe?"

"He doesn't fucking need money!" Bruce exclaimed, turning the monitor of his desktop on. The background on it was a picture of both him and Ella from a photoshoot they had done nearly three months before. It seemed like so long ago. "I want her back."

Bruce didn't sleep that night—not that he did most nights, of course—as he sat at his desk, drinking a glass of whiskey that he never really did finish. In his mind were merely memories and memories and more memories of Ella.

He remembered their first date. They were already so in-tune with each other, they were so comfortable. They merely had dinner at a nice Italian restaurant, watched an action movie that left Ella so excited for the sequel, and he walked her to her apartment. When they officially started dating, there was so much controversy over it because she had started off as his assistant, although she was working in various branches of the company after being there for a year and a half.

When they first had sex, it was one of those eye-opening experiences, where he realized not everything had to be as he always thought it should. Ella was like that, though. She was so complicated, she made it seem so simple. She had him laughing during sex, for God's sake. At one point, she burst into laughter over one of his comments but he made it turn into a moan pretty quick, something that made him feel proud.

When he moved into the penthouse, she followed him shortly after. She had insisted she was dating a billionaire and wanted an amazing walk-in closet. That was the first materialistic thing she had asked from him so he indulged her. Except he didn't know they would be the ones decorating the room.

When they painted the room white with beige accents, they had made a mess. Well, they had really fucked after covering one another in paint. Ella was one of the only people who could bring out that side of him, the playful, carefree side. When they had installed the mirrors, they had also ended up having sex, Bruce watching her expressions in the mirror.

God, she changed him so much, made him explore and experience new things. And now she was taken hostage thanks to him. And she wasn't his anymore.

She'll walk away from those that hurt her, even if it kills her.

His phone rang at 3 minutes past 7 in the morning, Bruce still nursing the single glass of whiskey he was unable to drink. It was Jim Gordon, telling him to turn the television on to the 7 o'clock news now.

On the screen was another one of the Joker's videos, and the banner at the bottom read 'Bruce Wayne's girlfriend abducted by the Joker?'. The camera was held by the Joker once more, as always gleeful and cackling.

Behind him, Ella was sat on a chair with a long purple dress with a slit on each side and her hands presumably tied behind her back, as well as each foot to either leg of the chair. Her long, black hair was wavy and tinted with some kind of green dye. Her eyes were made up into a black smoky eye, her lips were smeared in blood red, and the hollows beneath her cheekbones were shaded in white paint. She looked like him.

"Motherfucker," Bruce whispered under his breath. The Joker continued cackling as they replayed the video from the top.

"Hello, Bruce. Bruciiiieeee… miss her yet?" he snickered. "Let me tell you, she's a real lady, ehh. So elegant, so… sophisticated."

He started laughing again as he pointed the camera at her. She looked terrified, trying to hide it but unable to, as she visibly gulped. Then, she said, "How much am I worth, Bruce?"

Bruce's hands balled into fists. He couldn't believe the Joker was doing this petty scheme.

The Joker directed the camera at Daniela still, walking in circles around her.

"Mhmm, she's pretty—those lips, those eyes!—and she works out. Just look at those legs! And let's not go into her personality! She's such a sweetheart," the Joker crooned, before appearing in the frame. "How many millions is she worth to you, Wayne? Don't forget… Batman still hasn't revealed who he is."

His smirk dropped until he stood looking seriously at the camera.

"But if you don't want her… I do."

His maniacal laughter could be heard as the camera shot the floor and Ella's legs in his process of turning it off.

"Criminals aren't complicated, Alfred. You just have to understand what they're after."

"With respect, Master Wayne," Alfred sighed, "perhaps this is a criminal you don't fully understand either. If that were the case, tell me. Why did he take Miss Ella?"

Bruce faltered in his steps and resisted the urge to snap at Alfred. It was a sensitive subject.

"He wants money," he tersely replied.

"No," Alfred protested. "He doesn't need the money… A long time ago—"

He doesn't fucking need money!

"She broke up with me," Bruce cut him off, unable to keep it to himself any longer. There was a moment of stunned silence. Their separation didn't change the fact that he would do everything in his power to have her back, but he wanted someone to tell him what to do.

"I told you so," Alfred said quietly. Bruce cracked a smile.

She'll walk away from those that hurt her, even if it kills her.

"I don't know what to do," Bruce confessed with a heavy sigh.

"What do you want to do?"

"Be with her."

"Then, you know what to do," Alfred said. "It's that simple. You and she are very similar in that, you don't do anything you don't want to do. So get her back. Be with her."

Bruce nodded with renewed determination.

"A long time ago?" he prompted the Englishman, who proceeded to tell him the story about the thief.

"Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money," Alfred finished, trying to get his point across to Bruce. "They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn."

Some men just want to watch the world burn.

"I can't remember how we got here or how we survived so long."